It's a Tully Halloween 1

By David

The author prefers not to display any email address. Please direct any feedback to puericil@hotmail.com and it will be forwarded

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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It’s a Tully Halloween!
By David

Samuel Oliver has big plans for Halloween. He’s built the perfect superhero costume ever and plans to show it off to all of his friends at the neighborhood costume party.

But Samuel's dreams of fun and excitement are threatened when his mother is called out of town on a business trip and he’s faced with spending the second best holiday of the year with his dreaded babysitter, Mrs. Irma Tully!

See what happens when the cast of Marlene and the Boy Next Door get together and hold the scariest, creepiest Halloween ever!

Part One – It Sounded Like a Good Idea at the Time

With the ring of the bell Samuel Oliver joined his seventh grade classmates in gathering up their books and belongings and heading for the door. The cacophony of excited voices, the slamming of lockers and the rush of nearly a thousand eager children through the crowded halls and beyond was exhilarating. School was out and Samuel’s heart raced with anticipation as he thought about his plans for the weekend. It was Friday, which was just about the best day of the school week! And even better, it was Halloween!

The happy twelve year old couldn’t help but grin as he waved at his friends from across the room.

“Just wait ‘til tonight!” he shouted with boyish bravado. “I can’t wait for you losers to see my new costume! It’s freaking awesome! You’re gonna be so jealous when you see what I came up with you won’t be able to stand it!”

“Aw, it’s not gonna be as cool as mine,” Jimmy Hartfield yelled back. “Yours is gonna suck compared to what I got!”

Steven Elliot, of course, had to try and top Jimmy, shouting crudely, “Both of you are gonna suck, you fags! Just you wait and see what my mom bought me! You’re gonna wish you were me when you see what I got! Oh yeah, you are both gonna suck for sure!”

“Who’s the fag, you queer!” Jimmy replied with a grin. “Oh yeah, you heard me. You’re the fag, not me!

“I’m not the fag, you’re the fag! You’re worse than a fag – you’re a sissy fag!”

“I ain’t the sissy fag, you’re the sissy fag!”

Samuel bit his lip as his two friends teased one another. As much as he liked hanging out with them, he so wished they didn't talk like that. It was really embarrassing. True, there was a time when he was just as bad, but lately he’d quit using certain words because … well, just because. Instead he kept quiet and let his friends have it out with each other as they made their way to the door.

“You homo!”

“You queer!”

“I’m not the queer! Queers take it up the butt. That makes you the queer!”

“Oh yeah? Well, your mama dresses you funny, sissy boy! She makes you wear your sister’s dresses, you big sissy priss!”

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

“Does not!”

“Mr. Hartfield!” a commanding voice called out. “Mr. Elliot! Use our inside voices, please. And watch your mouths. You’ve got a better vocabulary than that.”

Samuel looked over to see his teacher, Mrs. Campbell, glaring in his direction. His stomach went queasy as he realized he was in the direct line of fire of her wrath.

“You too, Mr. Oliver,” the annoyed woman added. “It’s not too late for me to put you on report as well.”

“But I ….”

Samuel stopped before he said something that would have gotten him into even more trouble. If there was anything he learned in the past few months, it was when to keep his mouth shut. And if there was one thing he did not need right now, it was to be put on report. The way things had been going at home as of late his mother would probably kill him. Or at least make him wish he was dead.

“Take it outside gentlemen,” Mrs. Campbell ordered. “If I hear that kind of talk again it will be a week’s worth of detention.”

“Yes ma’am,” the three boys said in chorus.

“Mr. Oliver, I need to talk with you for a moment, please,” his teacher said, pointing at him and crooking her finger. “Now!”

Ignoring the whisper of “Uh-oh, you’re fucked now, buddy boy” from one of his friends, the worried lad made his way through the throng of exiting students. His face burned hot as he approached the imposing woman and stood nervously before her.

“Yes, Mrs. Campbell?” he squeaked. “Y-You wanted something?”

Tall and attractive, Samuel’s teacher was as admired by her students as she was feared. With her dark hair piled high on her head and a curvaceous figure and a large bosom that seemed to defy gravity, she struck a commanding presence as she looked down at the anxious boy. A playful, almost sardonic smile spread across her thick red painted lips as she leaned over, her low cut sweater giving Samuel a spectacular view of her ample cleavage.

“You’d better watch out, young man,” she said sweetly. “Those two will get you in real trouble one of these days.”

Samuel's ears heard her words, but his eyes were focused elsewhere, his gaze locked on the magnificent scene just inches from his nose. It didn’t take much for the blushing lad to imagine his face buried deep within the valley between her massive breasts; at such a young age he'd already spent more than his share of time trapped in such dire straits. He had a sudden memory of smothering, followed by the piercing, breathtaking fragrance of perfume hitting his nostrils. Even more alarming, he felt an awkward tingling beneath his pants and underwear.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be careful,” he said with a wistful nod. “They’re not really my friends … they’re just ….”

Samuel ran out of words. He was too distracted by the vision of Mrs. Campbell’s cleavage to think straight. For an instant he wondered what would happen if he leaned forward and pressed his face deep in the crevice between those bounteous beauties. Nothing good, no doubt. Still, the thought caused the tingling between his legs to suddenly jolt, like a shock of electricity. The blushing lad licked his dry lips and tried to think of something less disturbing.

Samuel was startled back to reality by the touch of his teacher’s hand along the side of his head. He shivered to feel her fingers caress his hair, combing it back over his ear.

“I really like this look for you,” the smiling woman said with a syrupy voice. She tilted her head, just slightly, and smiled a sincere, approving smile. “I normally don’t like long hair on young boys, but you keep yours tamed and neat. Very nice.”

The nervous youngster nodded, just barely. He didn’t like talking about his hair. It was always so embarrassing. He hadn’t gotten a proper haircut since the beginning of summer and it was nearly touching his shoulders. If his mother didn’t let her beautician trim it occasionally, who knew how long it would have been. Sure, some of the other boys at school had long hair, but like Mrs. Campbell pointed out, his was … different. Instead of a looking cool like a rock star, his curly locks looked more girlish than they should. To make matters even more awkward, women and girls were always making such a fuss over his appearance, and not in a way that made him feel flattered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Samuel whispered. “Um, th-th-thanks … I mean … thank you. M-M-My mom … she makes m-m-me … k-k-keep it this … way ….”

“Well, good for Mom. And good for you. You’re lucky to have such pretty hair.” His teacher gave him a little wink as she used both hands to flip his locks from over his ears and primped them on either side of his head; her ponderous breasts wobbled from left to right as she moved her arms, completely distracting the youngster.

“Um-hmm, the girls in this class could certainly learn a thing or two from you and your mother.”

Samuel Oliver was about to die! Between the extreme close up view of his teacher’s cleavage, the fragrance of her perfume and the touch of her hands in his hair, the excitement under his pants and underwear had elevated to an alarming level. The squirming child put his books over the front of his pants, a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment.

The towering teacher suddenly stood upright and she gave her student an appraising look, her eyes roaming up and down as if she was seeing him for the very first time. Samuel felt ashamed as her eyes locked in right between his legs.

“Ummm-hmmm,” Mrs. Campbell cooed playfully. “Now isn’t that just adorable. I think I have a new teacher’s pet.”

A bright, knowing smile spread across her pretty face, her pearl white teeth contrasting with her deep crimson lipstick as she gave a musical laugh. The mortified boy’s mouth went dry; he felt as though he was completely naked under his teacher’s curious gaze, all of his dirty little secrets exposed for her viewing pleasure. It was a feeling he knew all too well from personal experience.

Nothing was said for several excruciating seconds. With her eyes still fixated on the front of his pants, Mrs. Campbell eventually spoke up, her voice even more playful and friendly than before.

“There’s another reason I called you up here, Samuel. I understand that you and I have a mutual friend. I take it that you know Mrs. Gertrude Haggard?”

Samuel’s eyes went wide with surprise and his heart nearly stopped beating. Mrs. Gertrude Haggard? GERTRUDE HAGGARD??? A distasteful image flashed through his mind. Oh, he knew Gertrude Haggard, all right. He wished he didn’t, but he knew her … and she knew him. All too well. Gertrude Haggard was one of the most hateful and horrible people he knew. And that was all he wanted to think about at this point.

“Um, yes ma’am. She’s, um … she’s a friend of my babysitter’s.”

Seeing the surprised lad’s expression, his teacher couldn’t help but chuckle. She was clearly having fun, smiling down at him in an openly delightful, teasing manner. The blushing boy felt as small as she was tall.

“Your baby ... sitter? Mmmm ... that is so sweet.” Mrs. Campbell gave another little laugh. “It may interest you to know that Mrs. Haggard is one of my closest and best friends. She and I go back a long way. Did you know she was one of my teachers when I was about your age? Years later, when she was assistant principal at this very same school, she hired me to teach here. Isn’t that ... interesting?”

Samuel blinked. A million thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to understand what he was hearing. Mrs. Campbell, his seventh grade home room teacher, knew Old Lady Haggard? The very same Mrs. Haggard who visited his babysitter at the most awkward of times and enjoyed making his life miserable? The same evil witch who’d leered at him and taunted him as he paraded about his babysitter’s house in his birthday suit … and on more than one occasion had beaten his bare butt – and worse! – with her own hand?

This is awful, the forlorn boy thought. He fidgeted clumsily before the smiling woman. This isn’t good at all. Not at all.

“I still see Mrs. Haggard every once in a while,” his teacher sang sweetly. She leaned over once more, giving the nervous student an even closer glimpse of her plump bosom than her earlier presentation. Samuel could feel the warmth emanating from her chest and the sharp fragrance of her perfume imprinted into his adolescent psyche.

“She mentioned your name a few days ago and was delighted to know that you were in my class. She speaks of you very highly, Samuel. Did you know that? She’s taken quite an interest in you. Isn’t that exciting? Hmm? Hmmm? I certainly thought so.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, I guess so, ma’am.”

“You’re quite lucky to be acquainted with Mrs. Haggard, you know. As I remember she had a particular fondness for young boys such as yourself. I hope you pay attention when she's around."

Samuel struggled to stand still as he thought about what he should say next. Again, he stuck to his rule: when in doubt it's best to say nothing.
"Maybe sometime we’ll all bump into each other,” his teacher said. Her voice made the suggestion sound very mysterious. “Wouldn’t that be nice, you and me and Mrs. Haggard, the three of us getting together after school? It might even be fun, don't you think? Hmm? Hmmm?”

The red-faced lad hated that idea almost as much as he hated that ugly old Mrs. Haggard. He wanted to scream, “No way!” and run away, but the sight of Mrs. Campbell's breasts floating just inches from his face was too much of a distraction. Instead of making a scene he succumbed to his teacher’s charms … and the increased tingling between his legs.

“Y-Y-Yes … m-ma’am.”

Samuel had to hurry if he was to catch up with his friends. He made his way through the endless throng of students, his mind reeling as he reflected on his conversation with Mrs. Campbell. He still couldn’t believe his teacher actually knew Old Lady Haggard! He wondered just how much she told the old crow about him. Even more important, he wondered how much Mrs. Haggard had told her. Surely that ugly old woman didn’t say anything to Mrs. Campbell about seeing him going around in his birthday suit, right? And there was no way she’d tell how she’d paddled his naked butt, right?

Or was there?

For an instant, just quick couple of seconds, Samuel tried to imagine what might happen if he did get together with the pretty Mrs. Campbell and Old Lady Haggard. The resulting image was both disturbing and fascinating; the schoolboy immediately pictured himself standing before the two women completely naked with a red bottom and an equally red face. In his mind at that moment Mrs. Haggard held a heavy paddle, the kind they used on children in school, while Mrs. Campbell silently studied him from the top of his curly head to the tips of his bare toes. His face burned fiery hot and he felt a bizarre tingling sweep over his entire body as he pondered the scenario in his head.

“That would be … would be … just … terrible,” the trembling lad whispered to himself.

Terrible or not, such thoughts were increasingly common for young Samuel over the past several months. Ever since his mother started sending him to that new babysitter he …. Well, that’s another story for another time. Suffice it to say, the simple idea of being naked before the voluptuous Mrs. Campbell was enough to make him squirm right there in the middle of the school foyer. A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body, and he felt that horrid tingling again, this time in between his legs.

“Not now!” he muttered aloud as he rushed down the hallway. “And not here, of all places!”

“Ugh!”

The nervous lad shook his head. He had to stop thinking about such things. This was neither the time nor the place for such nonsense. It was Halloween and he had more important things to do! He still needed to talk with his friends about their plans and he didn’t have much time left before everyone took off in different directions.

“So what did ‘Big Tits’ Campbell want?” Steven asked when Samuel finally caught up with them in front of the school. “Did she get you in trouble? Is she gonna tell your mommy on you?”

“It’s … it’s nothing,” Samuel croaked. “She just said something about knowing my babysi- … er, I mean, one of my mom’s friends. That’s all.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “Ooooo … look at Oliver! Mrs. Campbell knows his mommy! His mommy and his big titty teacher know each other. Big fucking deal. So what’s that make you, the teacher’s pet?”

Jimmy joined in with, “Yeah, Oliver, that’s you! You’re the teacher’s pet! Haw-haw-haw-haw!”

Samuel’s face reddened. Just a few minutes before Mrs. Campbell accused him of being that very same thing. It didn’t sound so bad then, but now … well, it didn’t sound good at all. He clenched his jaw and tried not to sound upset as he argued with his friend.

“I’m not the teacher’s pet! That’s stupid! You’re stupid! I am not her stupid pet!”

“Uh-oh! Look at his face,” Steven teased. “Little Sammy is hiding something from us! He really is the teacher’s pet! Teacher’s pet! Teacher’s pet! Little Sammy is the teacher’s pet!”

Despite his best efforts, Samuel was on the verge of tears. “Stop saying that, you retard! I am not the stupid teacher’s pet! Quit saying that!”

“Whatchu gonna do, little Sammy?” Steven chided. “You gonna cry, crybaby?”

“I’m not a crybaby,” the beleaguered boy mumbled. “And I’m not a stupid teacher’s pet!”

“Oh, come on, Oliver, you know you are, so don’t deny it!” Jimmy’s piggish face lit up. “Hey, teacher’s pet, since Bit Tits Campbell is your mom’s friend, maybe she’ll come over to your house and visit. And when she does that, maybe she’ll let you touch her boobs! That would be awesome!”

“That would be fucking awesome!” Steven cried out. The two boys high fived one another. “No shit! I mean, those things are incredible! How does she get them to stay up in the air like that? They’re fucking amazing!”

Jimmy punched Samuel in the arm, hard enough to cause the quiet lad to wince. “Hey, Oliver, do me a favor. If you do get to touch them, touch them once for me!”

“Fuck that!” echoed Steven. “Make it a handful!”

“Make it two handfuls,” Jimmy roared. “That would fuckin’ awesome!”

Samuel’s face burned hot with emotion as his friends rattled on. He so wanted to join in and be part of the conversation, to be one of "the guys," but he was not at all comfortable with the subject matter. While he shared their interest in women’s breasts, his experience was not exactly the same. For a moment he imagined his face being pressed deep in between the cleavage of a pair of enormous breasts and being smothered in the process. Another image flashed through his mind, that of a large protruding nipple being guided toward his face and being pressed against his lips. Instead of an exotic perfume, however, the distinct fragrance of lilacs wafted through his senses ....

Clearing his throat, the flustered child did his best to redirect the discussion.

“Hey, um, sooooo … what time do you guys want to meet up? Trick or treating starts about six. We can get together before that and hang out … or something.”

“Aw, I dunno,” Jimmy replied. “Maybe. Six is a little early. It won’t start getting dark until at least seven. Trick or treating in daylight sucks. Let’s make it seven.”

“Yeah! Let’s make it seven!” Steven insisted. “It’ll be good and dark by then and we can stay out all night! We can go to that big Halloween party down at the park. I can get my brother to drive us. And if we get bored with that we can always go back to my house. My parents are gonna be gone and tomorrow’s Saturday, so they won’t care.”

“That sounds great!” Jimmy nodded eagerly. “Yeah, seven is better. I don’t wanna go around in my costume in daylight. That’s gay.”

Steven shoved his friend. “You’re gay.”

“You’re gay!”

“No, you’re the gay one!”

Samuel frowned. “Okay, well, seven’s all right, I guess. I gotta go in by eight, though.”

“Eight?” Jimmy spat. “Are you fucking kidding me? Eight’s for babies!”

Samuel sighed. He hated this part of the conversation. He took a deep breath and said, “I can’t help it. That's when trick-or-treating is over and my mom has this thing about curfews ….”

Jimmy snorted with disgust. “Well, fuck that! Like I said, eight o’clock is for babies! Who cares about trick or treating? What about the big party down at the park? That’s where the action’s gonna be! A bunch of hot high school girls are gonna be there and they always wear the sexiest costumes!”

“Yeah, we’re going to the big party and see the hot high school chicks,” said Steven. “What’s the matter with you, Oliver? Your mom is always treating you like a baby. What’s up with that? Is the wittle baby ‘fwaid his mommy might spank his wittle bottom?”

Samuel's face reddened. He felt like crying, but this was neither the time nor the place.

"Nooo ... it's just that ...."

"It's just what? Your pussy hurts?" Steven laughed. “Don’t be such a fag! Ever since last summer you’ve been acting awful weird. You quit the team and you’re always gone on weekends. We hardly ever see you anymore. What's the matter, are you too good for us? Or maybe you got something up your butt.”

Samuel gritted his teeth. He hated when people said things like that. Especially anything to do with his butt. Especially that ….

The frustrated lad took a deep breath and let it out.

"Noooo ... it's just that ... my mom … you know, after trick or treating ends … the curfew …."

“I think maybe he’s got something up his butt,” teased the other boy. “Hey, maybe Oliver isn’t just a teacher’s pet. I think maybe he’s the queer. You know, taking it up the butt from his mom with that curfew and all. I wouldn’t let my mom do that to me!”

“What?” Steven snickered. “Put you on curfew or take it up the butt?”

“Neither one!” Jimmy snorted. “I ain’t no sissy! Not like Oliver!”

Samuel blushed as his two friends laughed at his expense. He could have argued with them. He could have even started a fight, but that wouldn’t have accomplished anything. He probably would have gotten beaten up and ended up crying. And that wouldn't have done him any good, either. Besides, that would have just extended the conversation and he was not interested in any more talk about butts or sissies or anything of the sort. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to hear. Instead, he diverted the conversation back to their plans for the weekend.

“Okay, so seven o’clock then,” he conceded. “Down at the corner by the old church? That’s cool, right?”

Both Jimmy and Steven nodded.

“Sure, that’s sounds all right.” Steven shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll grab some candy from the little kids and then go to the park. The party’s supposed to last until midnight. All right?”

Samuel nodded. “Um, sure. Why not?”

Jimmy gave Samuel funny look. “You’re not gonna bail on us again, are you, Oliver? You sure your mommy doesn’t have weekend plans for you again?”

The flustered boy gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, heck no! We talked about it just last night. We’ll be here tonight and all weekend. I’m going home now to finish my costume and work on the lights. You guys aren’t going to believe how cool it’s gonna look when I’m all done with it!”

“Your costume has lights?” Samuel was pleased to see that he’d caught Jimmy’s attention. “Wow, I gotta see that!”

“Yeah, well it sounds pretty neat,” Steven conceded. “If it works.”

“It works!” Samuel insisted. “I tested it last night. You’ll see! It’s gonna look awesome!”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in wad. Geez.” Steven shrugged. “So seven it is, right?”

“Seven it is,” the three boys repeated in chorus.

By this time they’d passed through the main doors of the school and into daylight. Children scattered every which way to their various buses and pick up points. Jimmy and Steven broke away and Samuel was about to start the walk home when he heard the beep of a car horn and a familiar voice call out.

“Samuel! Samuel Oliver! Over here, sweetie! I’m over here!”

Samuel was surprised to see his mother’s car amid the sea of others parked in front of the school. He rushed over and leaned in through the window. He felt a funny feeling in his gut when he saw she was wearing her business clothes. A glance in the back seat revealed her travel bags and briefcase.

“Um, hi Mom. What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be at work right now.”

“Get in the car, dear. Something came up and there’s been a change in plans. Hop in and I’ll explain along the way ….”

A chill swept over Samuel’s body, followed by a familiar, sickening shiver. “A change in plans …? Wha- … What’s going on? Where are we going? What do you mean, a change in plans?”

Mrs. Oliver paused before speaking, as if she was collecting her thoughts.

“I got called out of town for a few days, so I’m headed for the airport, honey. And you are going to your grandmother’s.”

“My grandmother’s?” The shocked lad blinked, then moaned. “You mean … Mrs. Tully’s? But … tonight’s Halloween ….”

“I know it’s Halloween, but I can’t help that. Now get in. I have to catch a plane in an hour.”

“But Moooooom ….”

“I don’t have time for this,” his mother hissed. “Get in the car, Samuel. Do it. Now!”

Samuel lowered his head and sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

***

Samuel Oliver felt ill as the sedan sped down the thoroughfare. Not just a little bit ill, but a deathly sick-to-my-stomach-oh-god-I’m-gonna-die ill. He felt so ill he thought he was going to throw up, mess his pants, pee and cry all at the same time.

To put it bluntly, his world had just turned upside down. Completely and undeniably upside down. Seated with his arms crossed, he glared at his mother as she turned the car off the main road and toward his certain doom.

“But Mom, tonight's Halloween. I'm supposed to go trick or treating with the guys. I was gonna wear my Iron Man costume!” He felt his nose tingle, just like it always did whenever he was about to cry. “I promised them I’d be there. I’m gonna miss everything! You can’t do this to me! Not again! It’s not fair!”

“Honestly Samuel, I do not want to hear another word!” Denise Oliver scolded. “I told you I don’t need this right now. I can’t help it because I have to go out of town. Unlike some people, I have to work for a living. It would be nice if you were a little more supportive.”

Samuel thought about his friends and what they would think. After their last conversation he knew his reputation was in dire straits if he reneged on their plans. He looked over at his mother with shiny wet eyes, his hands clasped together as he begged her to reconsider.

“Please, Mom! I’ll do anything! Please, don’t do this to me. Jimmy and Steven are counting on me to show up! I promised them I was gonna be there. And now … now they’re gonna think … they’re gonna think ….”

“Who cares what they think?” Mrs. Oliver glared at her son. “You know what I think? I think you need to stop hanging around those brats. That’s what I think. You were so good all summer, then once you got back to school, it’s ‘Jimmy and Steven’ this and ‘Jimmy and Steven’ that. I think you’re spending way too much time with Jimmy and Steven. They are a bad influence and that’s going to stop right now!”

No one spoke for at least a minute. Except for the sound of traffic there was silence.

“It’s not fair!” Samuel muttered. “I worked really hard on my Iron Man costume. I was gonna hook up the lights and show it to the guys. The hands and eyes were gonna light up and everything.”

“I do NOT care!” growled his mother.

The youngster thought for a moment. “Can’t we at least go home and get my costume? It’ll only take a minute. I can run inside and ….”

Samuel’s mother shook her head in disbelief. “Oh really? You expect me to drive all the way back to our house just for some silly costume? Didn’t you hear me say that I’ve got a plane to catch in … well, in less than an hour now. Don't you understand what that means? Can’t you think of anyone else but yourself for once in your life?”

There was that silence again.

“Look, Samuel, I’m sorry if this ruins your weekend,” Mrs. Oliver said, her voice suddenly soft and forgiving. “And I’m sorry about your costume. But I’m sure your grandmother will make it up to you. She loves Halloween. She even told me so on the telephone. I’ve no doubt she’s got something big planned for you. I’m sure you’ll get to go trick or treating and whatever else you wanted to do. You’ll just have to do it from her house instead of at home.”

“But … my costume. What am I gonna wear for trick or treat?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Nana Tully can fix you up. She’s very creative. I guarantee she’ll make sure you have a great time.”

Samuel grunted. Yeah, what did ugly Old Lady Tully know about Halloween?

That’s when the light came on. The panicked lad suddenly realized what his mother had been saying. He was so upset about missing out on Halloween he had almost forgotten about the real issue. Who cared about his stupid costume!

He was spending the next few days with Old Lady Tully!

That was not good. Not good at all.

The worried boy bit his lip. “But you don’t have to leave me with … with Mrs. Tully. Not for … Halloween.”

“Well, I’m certainly not leaving you in the house alone for a whole week. Go talk to your father if you don’t like it. If he hadn’t left us high and dry ....” His mother glared at him. “Besides, none of this would be necessary if you didn’t sneak around and get in trouble when I left you alone.”

Samuel’s cheeks turned red.

Mrs. Oliver sighed. “We are so lucky Mrs. Tully is in our lives. On the salary I make I cannot afford to hire someone to watch after you when I have to go out of town. Yes, she can be hard on you and you may not like some of the things she does, but you brought that on yourself. So if you want to blame anybody for your problems, just look in the mirror, little mister!”

The car slowed. Samuel shivered as he recognized the part of town where his babysitter lived. In a few minutes they would be on the lane with the lonely cottage at the end. There he would have to face … Her.

“Not again … and not tonight,” he whispered to himself. “Ugh! Who knows what kind of plans that creepy old woman has for me. With my luck, she’ll probably try to get me into some sort of sissy girly costume and make me do some sort of sissy girly stuff."

Samuel gritted his teeth as he imagined his grandmother presenting him with a frilly princess costume or worse, a baby bonnet and pacifier. Either one was a definite possibility.

Oh god, what if she tries to make me go trick or treating in a diaper, he thought in a panic! What if my friends see me? Oh gosh, my life will be ruined!

***

Samuel had good reason to worry. Irma Tully made no secret that she enjoyed treating the unfortunate twelve year old like her personal dress up doll. In order to keep him from running off and getting into mischief during his visits, the sadistic sitter always took away his regular clothing and made him wear girlish t-shirts and underpants around the house … if he was lucky. Sometimes she wouldn't let him wear anything at all!

"God, I hate looking like a sissy," he mumbled to himself. "But it’s better than going without anything, I guess."

The short cropped t-shirts with childish butterflies and kittens and fairies were just plain embarrassing; he especially hated how they left his bare belly exposed to unwanted kisses and tickles. The skimpy undies – oh, how he hated the word “panties” – were so flimsy he felt practically naked wearing them. Occasionally he was allowed to wear longer t-shirts that reached just past his pantied bottom, but then he looked like he was wearing a girl’s dress.

That’s why that stupid ol’ Marlene keeps calling me “Samantha,” Samuel lamented silently. ‘Cause stupid ol’ Mrs. Tully keeps dressing me like a stupid sissy!

“My named isn't ‘Samantha,’” he told his archnemesis time and time again. “It's 'Samuel’! And I'm not a girl, I'm a boy!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, sissy boy,” the cruel Marlene would reply with a scornful smirk. “You're always wearing such girly clothes, it's just kind of hard to tell.”

As much as Samuel hated his girlish t-shirts and undies, he tried not to complain too much. His sadistic sitter had plenty of other ways to humiliate him. Sometimes she gave him little more than a small, frilly apron to wear over his birthday suit when he had chores to do, like scrubbing floors and running the vacuum. Oh, how he hated that stupid apron! The wretched thing was so short it barely covered his privates. Likewise, his bare back and butt were completely exposed to view; he would have been naked except for the overly large white bow holding the whole thing together just above his plump, pink bottom.

Mrs. Tully, of course, was quite fond of the blushing child’s skimpy “maid’s uniform,” and she often complimented him when he wore it.

“Just look at how adorable you are, baby doll,” she’d purr, primping and tugging playfully at the flimsy apron around his naked waist. Samuel’s face would burn hot with shame, knowing that a simple pull on the bow behind his back would render him down to his birthday suit.

“Nana just loves when her pretty little sissy boy dresses up for her. Don’t you just love being a pretty sissy for Nana? Hmm? Don’t you wish you could do this every day? Hmm? Hmmm?”

“Yes, Nana ….,” the unenthusiastic boy would mumble. To say otherwise would only invite more teasing and a humiliating smack on the butt – if not worse!

That was another thing. Samuel was sick of how his grandmother treated him like a toddler, always using baby talk with him and touching him in the most inappropriate places at the most inappropriate times. He didn't like being called “baby doll” and “sissy boy” and he sure didn't need anybody wiping his bottom for him. He was twelve years old, not two!

I'm twelve years old, he would lament. That makes me almost a teenager! She’s not supposed to treat me like this!

That didn’t matter to the bullying babysitter, of course. She treated Samuel as a small child in every possible way. Whether it really was wiping his butt after using the bathroom or worse, touching his "wee-wee" during bath time, she had no boundaries when it came to keeping the poor lad in his place.

Every evening they spent together, for instance, Mrs. Tully would bend the naked schoolboy over her lap and play with his bare bottom for hours on end for no other reason than her own personal enjoyment. This was always after he had been given his bedtime enema – ugh! – and a bath, which was her chief excuse for her odd little pastime.

“Nana likes to make sure her little baby doll is sparkling clean, inside and out!” she would announce with matronly delight. “Can’t have you being all dirty now, can we?”

Illuminated by the light of some old boring musical show or a dull black and white romance on the television, the old woman would explore and poke about much like a naughty little girl would with a defenseless dolly, humming and giggling and having the most wonderful time. She would spread Samuel’s fleshy cheeks and poke and prod the little pink “rosebud” in between them, sending a shudder of shame throughout the boy’s helpless body. The mortified lad never quite got used to the feeling of his grandmother manipulating his butthole in such an intimate manner. It was both terrible and exciting, and he would mew and squirm like a captive pet under his tormentor’s hand.

“Isn’t this fun, baby doll?” Mrs. Tully would coo as she fiddled and diddled between the trembling boy’s butt cheeks. “Don’t you just loooove spending time with Nana? Doesn’t this feel sooooo gooooood?”

Throughout the ordeal the red-faced child would hang practically upside down, trying his best not to make a sound or squirm or do anything that might encourage the mischievous matron. Complaints or struggles, no matter how slight, were met with a painful smack on his plump bottom – hard enough to bring more than a few tears – followed up with a playful kiss on the resulting “boo-boo.” It was a very uncomfortable predicament, to say the least. Mrs. Tully thought it was both fun and funny, but then again, she had a very odd sense of humor.

“There, isn’t that better?” she would coo as she stroked and kissed the blushing boy’s freshly spanked cheeks. “Oh, what a lovely way to spend time with my sweet little baby, paddling and kissing such a perfect little bum. I could just do this forever and ever! Aren’t you the lucky boy? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Not surprisingly, Samuel was ashamed of himself for allowing such awful things to happen. As much as he wanted to protest the indignities of being rendered naked and humiliated, his grandmother’s little games left him weak and defeated; it was like a dream where you try to escape, but your knees and legs go limp and you can’t run away, no matter how hard you try. The contrite youngster learned from bitter experience it was best to just lie there and endure his grandmother’s naughty fingerplay and teasing comments.

“Oh, baby doll, you’re so much fun,” she’d say time and again. “Is it any wonder Nana loves you so very much?”

Samuel hated it most when his grandmother held her afternoon card games and he was “asked” to help entertain her guests. Wearing his "little maid" apron and nothing else, he blushed from head to toe as he paraded about the room, giving everyone a good look at his naked bottom as he served tea and cookies from a small silver tray.

Before you get too worried, know that these gathering were usually quite small, with only a couple of old ladies from Mrs. Tully’s church in attendance, including the dreaded Mrs. Gertrude Haggard. Mrs. Haggard and her brood all loved Samuel and they always looked forward to seeing the young boy in his serving costume. Their eyes would light up the moment they entered the house and they would stare and leer at him throughout the entirety of their visit.

“How adorable!” one would exclaim.

“So cute!” another would coo.

“He is so sweet I could just eat him up!” declared yet another.

Adding to the awkwardness of his situation, the old women would tease him and ask him the most embarrassing questions, like where did he get such a pretty apron and did he have any girlfriends. He’d stammer through some lame answers and everyone would laugh and have a great time at his expense. He wanted to cry, but what little pride he had left kept him from giving them the satisfaction. Most of the time, at least.

“Aw, look at that sweet face,” someone would say. “Don’t you just love it when he blushes!”

The one question Samuel hated most was whether he was a boy or a girl. When he answered “boy” someone would inevitably lift up his apron to prove it, which set off a wave of malicious merriment.

“Oh, how can such a pretty child have such a nasty little thing!” was one of the comments he heard most. “He’s much too lovely to be an ugly old boy!”

“It just goes to show you, God has a sense of humor,” was another.

Mean old Mrs. Haggard was the worst. Her favorite saying was, “Well, if you ask me, all it would take is a snip with a pair of scissors in the right place and he'd make a much better little girl.”

Between Mrs. Haggard’s comment and Samuel’s wide-eyed look of panic, the whole room would erupt with feminine laughter, no matter how many times they all heard the joke.

And then there were the unwanted pinches and tickles the poor lad had to endure at the hands of his grandmother’s bullying guests; inevitably someone would pull him onto her lap and tickle and grope him all over, causing an uproar of womanly laughter around the room. It would start under his arms, with plenty of pinching and poking until he was helpless with laughter.

“Pleeeeehehehease! Stop it!” he’d cry helplessly. “Please stoooohohohohohop ihihihihihiiiiiiiiiiit!”

“Why the tears, sweetie?” his tormentor would tease. “It sounds to me more like you need cheering up. You’re not a little crybaby, are you? Hmm? Hmmm? Is the pretty boy a crybaby, too?”

“Noooohohohohoooo!!! Stop it! *gasp* Help me, Nana! *gasp* Pleeeeease … help *gasp* meeeeheheheheeeeeeeeeeee!”

The assault would then move to his knees and then up his thighs and to his bare bottom, ultimately going under his apron. He would scream and squeal for mercy, but rescue never came; instead he would be handed off to a fresh set of hands and an additional wave of terrifying attacks on his privacy. He tried to resist, he really did, but the humiliation was overwhelming, draining all strength from his arms and legs.

“No, don’t touch me down there! Please … *gasp* ... No! No no no no no nonononononono … NOOOOOOOO!!!! STOP IIIIIIIT PLEEEEEEEEEASSSSSSSE … *gasp* …. Please … no more …. no more ….”

Samuel was traumatized by these little sessions with his grandmother’s cruel friends. Who wouldn't be? He so wanted to run away and hide, but Mrs. Tully insisted that he remain in the room and entertain her delighted guests. To disobey meant getting his bare butt beat in full view of a very appreciative audience. That only happened once. And as much as he hated getting tickled, he would rather endure a lifetime of tickle torture than go through one more spanking.

“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper, baby doll,” the mischievous matron would coo as she wipe his tears. “Look how much fun everyone has when you’re around! See what a wonderful time they’re having? See all those smiling faces? That’s all because of you, baby doll. Everybody is having sooooo much fun … all because of you ….”

Those words would echo in Samuel’s brain … and haunt his dreams … for as long as he lived ….

“… All because of you ….”

***

Seated in his mother’s sedan, Samuel shook his head, doing his best to erase the memory of his abuse by the wicked Mrs. Tully and her coven of evil cohorts.

“That wasn’t any fun at all,” he whispered to himself. “Not one little bit.”

Wiping tears of frustration from his eyes, the unhappy child tried to think of something else, something really important, like how his Halloween was going to be ruined. His thoughts then drifted back to his babysitter. That’s when he suddenly realized that crazy old Mrs. Tully just might take away his clothes and make him go completely naked for Halloween!

Samuel’s pulse raced. Oh yeah, she was crazy enough to do that, and somehow, no matter what anybody said, she’d get away with it, too! It was just like all those times she just “let” him go around her house in his bare skin. He spent more time than he cared to remember standing around naked in front of his grandmother, waiting on her hand and foot, running to fetch this or that and in generally remaining on constant display for the old woman’s pleasure.

If he got restless or cranky, Samuel was “allowed” to go outside and play in Mrs. Tully’s famous flower garden, which wouldn’t have been so bad if that creepy old Mr. McGillicuddy or that ugly old Marlene from next door weren’t always lurking around and spying on him.

“What’s wrong with playing in the garden in your birthday suit, baby doll?” Mrs. Tully would tease whenever he complained. “You’re so adorable, picking flowers and watering Nana’s plants in your bare skin. You look just like a little pretty garden fairy!”

“But I don’t wanna be a fairy,” the frustrated lad fussed. “What if my friends find out? They’ll all think I’m a big sissy or something.”

“Oh, who cares what those old boys think!” The gentle bully would chuckle. “Nana just loves seeing you outside having so much fun, and so do all of her friends. That’s all that counts.”

“But Nana, I don’t like other people seeing me naked! It’s embarrassing!”

“Nonsense. Nobody cares if little boys go around bare bottomed. Back in my day they did it all the time. They used to have so much fun swimming and playing in the woods. Besides being fun, it’s practical. You don’t get your clothes all sweaty and dirty and I don’t have to do any laundry. Now hush up and go back and play. If you’re not a good boy I’ll give you something to really cry about!”

Bedtime was the worst. As creepy as it sounds, Mrs. Tully insisted that Samuel share her bed, insisting that “little boys sometimes get into mischief when left to themselves.” Before sliding under the sheets she would check him from top to bottom, doting on the naked lad as she would a much younger child. If he had an erection he was doomed.

“See? This is what I’m talking about, baby doll.” She would sweetly coo and tease the blushing lad as she pushed him back onto the bed. “You can’t go to sleep like this. You’ll be up all night, tossing and turning and thinking naughty thoughts. And knowing you, you’d probably do something nasty, wouldn’t you? It’s a good thing I’m here to take care of this for you. That’s what mommies and grandmothers are for!”

The sadistic sitter would expertly tickle and caress the hapless child, lightly running her fingertips up and down the insides of his thighs and over his bare belly until he was trembling with shameful excitement. "I know one special little boy who just loooooves being Nana’s naughty little sissy. Isn’t that right, baby doll? You just looooove being Nana’s naughty little sissy boy, don’t you?"

The trembling preteen would whimper and whine in vain. Eventually the curious fingers would flitter over his “pink pearl,” which was as awful as it was wonderful. Lying face up across his grandmother's lap, his naked body completely exposed to her view, he was felt incredibly helpless as she slowly tweaked and pinched and massaged him in his most private places. He was so overwhelmed with emotion he couldn't hide his feelings if his life depended on it.

"Ooooo ... is the pretty baby shy? Is he having fun?” A flutter of fingertips would flick and brush against the tip of Samuel’s penis, just enough to make the little pink organ beg for more. “Come on, you can tell Nana. You just loooooove being Nana’s naughty little sissy and playing naughty little sissy games, don’t you. Hmm? Hmmmmmm? Of course you do! Of course you do!”

At the peak of his excitement, Samuel would feel his babysitter’s weathered but warm hand grasp his penis. This was both a scary but comforting feeling; he knew that in a few minutes he would soon experience the most amazing sensation in his life, but at the same time he would reach the worst kind of shame. Mrs. Tully was an expert in bringing him to the greatest pleasure, just as she was at making him feel badly about himself. At was as if she was both an angel and a devil, all wrapped up in a frumpy housedress and hair that looked like a blue beehive.

“Now remember, baby doll, this isn’t for little boys. Only for mommies and grandmothers can do this, right? Hmm? Hmmm? Now, what did Nana say?”

“O- … o-o-only … *gasp!* … m-m-ommies … and g-g-grandmothers ….”

Samuel was breathless with terror. This could be real. It could very well happen. He could easily see it being just like every other time he’d stayed with her; he’d be stuck inside that stupid old house doing stupid old chores or waiting on her mean old friends while all of the other kids were out running around having fun and getting all sorts of candy.

“This is gonna be awful,” he whispered with a sniff. “This is gonna be the worst Halloween ever!”

To be continued ….

(End of File)