What Spencer Saw

By Nocti Raven

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and/or sexual activity of preteen and young teen children. This is fantasy, and the author in no way endorses or practices these things on real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.
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Spencer crept through the dark hallway very slowly; if he moved too fast or stepped too heavily, the floorboards might creak and give him away. He shivered a little in the cool air conditioning, wishing he’d had the sense to put on pants over his briefs, and maybe something warmer than just that little t-shirt, but he’d just snuck out of bed, and those were his pyjamas.

He could see the flickering multicoloured light of the TV pouring into the hall ahead of him. Just a few more steps and he’d be at the doorway to the living room. With any luck he’d be able to quickly peek in without Marty seeing him. If his hunch was right, the TV wasn’t the only thing distracting him.

Even over the noise of the TV, Spencer had heard the front door open and close just a few minutes after Marty had put him to bed. Then he’d thought he heard just the faintest hint of Marty’s voice, and he was pretty sure it was Marty and not the TV: Marty had a pretty distinctive voice, one of the deepest, most grown-up sounding voices Spencer had ever heard come out of a twelve-year-old. Spencer himself was almost thirteen, a full five months older than his babysitter, and his voice still sounded the same as it had when he was nine.

Spencer didn’t really mind being babysat by a younger boy. Marty had been one of his best friends since second grade, and he was pretty nice about it. He didn’t make fun of Spencer, he didn’t abuse his babysitting authority, and he kept the whole arrangement their little secret. It was a little embarrassing to have his friend enforce his bedtime and his bathtime, but he’d gotten used to it. It was easier to settle into the routine than to resist. The one time he’d argued that he was too old for a bedtime, Marty had asked, “Do I need to give you a spanking like a little boy to show you that you’re not too old for anything?” Spencer had never challenged him since. He didn’t doubt that he could make good on that threat because, despite being five months younger than Spencer, Marty was a good two inches taller and consistently beat him at arm wrestling.

He wondered how Marty would react if he caught him sneaking around after his bedtime. He wasn’t too worried; presumably he could say he was just getting a glass of water. He’d be forgiven for that, wouldn’t he? Then again, the significance of that door opening might change things. Marty might be a bit less forgiving if Spencer saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.

Before he leaned over and looked into the living room, Spencer sniffed at the air. He didn’t smell any smoke, but that didn’t mean anything. Even if, as he suspected, Marty was using his house to meet with a dealer, there was no reason to suspect he’d actually smoke pot right there in the house. Then again, Spencer had never tried weed, and when he heard other kids at school talking about it, they never gave specific details like how it smelled. Maybe it didn’t give off smoke with a smell.

He inched right up against the doorway and leaned over very slowly until he could see into the living room. There was the couch, and Marty sitting on it with his back to the doorway. Even though he was facing the TV, he was leaning way back, like he was more interested in the ceiling than the screen. He gave a little groaning sigh, like he was waking up from a dream, rocking his head slowly from side to side.

Spencer leaned in a little more, trying to get a better look at the coffee table between Marty and the TV. Marty certainly seemed to be acting high; surely there would be something telltale on the table. A joint, a bong, anything.

Marty leaned his head forward, looking down in his lap. “Yeah,” he sighed, “that’s nice.”

Then something appeared in front of Marty, a shadow rising into view, lifting its head. It was all Spencer could do not to gasp as Marty brushed the dark hair back behind the girl’s ear, revealing the pale, delicate visage of Wendy Gordon, the shy little bookworm who sat at the back of the class, quiet and unobtrusive. She always let her long hair obscure her face, and never seemed to look anyone in the eye. It took Spencer a moment to process what he was looking at, partially because he had never he had never even conceived of nerdy little Wendy in a sexual situation, and partially because Wendy seemed to have discarded her shirt, and the sight of that lacy black bra and the bulges beneath was extremely distracting.

Wendy licked her lips as she looked hungrily into Marty’s eyes. This was unreal! Wendy was one of the girls who didn’t even get mentioned when the guys argued over which girls in the class were worth jacking off to. And when people whispered rumours of who might or might not be a virgin, her name tended to come up as a joke, or on “virgin forever” lists.

But it kind of made sense, Spencer thought, watching her lean forward and kiss Marty on the lips. For the last couple of weeks he’d noticed Marty turning his head in class, looking back to the rear of the room. Spencer had thought he was looking at Collin, who had a reputation as the seventh grade’s premier weed supplier. But no, Marty’s real interest had been Wendy, who sat at the back out of shyness, not shadiness.

She leaned back and crossed her arms, obscuring the spectacle of her nearly naked chest.

“Marty,” she said, “we have company.”

Spencer immediately pulled his head out of the doorway, but it was too late. He couldn’t run back to his bead without making noise, and the excuse that he was just getting some water suddenly sounded hollow and lame in his ears. He just stood there in the hall for a moment, his back to the wall, eyes wide, heart beating rapidly.

“Hey Spence,” Marty called. “We know you’re out there, Spence. Get in here right now.” He didn’t sound angry, or even impatient. But he wasn’t joking either. It was the friendly-but-serious tone that Spencer had heard him use on only two occasions: when he’d first explained that he’d be his babysitter, and when he’d threatened to spank him that time. It sent a chill down Spencer’s back.

He walked stiffly into the living room as his friend and babysitter had ordered. Wendy watched him curiously as he walked in, but Marty didn’t even turn his head. Spencer walked around the sofa and stood facing the . . . couple. It was a strange feeling, standing before them. Marty’s surprisingly long, saliva-coated penis was sticking out of his open jeans and Wendy had stripped down to her matching bra and panties . . . yet Spencer felt like the most exposed, naked one there. Everything he saw just made him feel jealous, yet overwhelmed, out of his depth. The way they looked at him, he thought they looked amused. He felt like a little boy in front of them, like his boyish little briefs with their too-small bulge were just a big puffy diaper.

Marty and Wendy exchanged a look, then Marty gestured for Spencer to come closer. As he inched forward he was very aware that he was closing the distance between him and his friend’s exposed, slimy dick . . . and also getting closer to Wendy’s wonderfully exposed body. Funny how he’d never realized she was attractive until now.

“I put you to bed,” Marty said. “You shouldn’t be up and about, and you definitely shouldn’t be spying on us. Sorry, buddy, but I think you’ve earned a spanking for this bad behaviour.”

He reached out toward Spencer’s crotch. Spencer backed away, speechless, but Marty’s hand was too quick. Soon he had his friend by the elastic waistband, and dragged his briefs down to his knees as he pulled him over. Spencer tried to cover his privates as he shuffled forward, but his hands were yanked away. Marty held one wrist and Wendy held the other, and after a few seconds of feeble wrestling and pathetic little grunts, Spencer was tumbling forward over his friend’s lap. Without his hands to prop himself up, his face smacked into the sofa, but that wasn’t nearly as alarming a sensation as Marty’s slimy erection stabbing him in the belly as his t-shirt got hiked up to his armpits.

Spencer felt his arms being twisted back cruelly for a moment as Marty relinquished his grip and let Wendy hold both wrists. Then, without letting go, Wendy nimbly hopped onto the sofa and sat, cross-legged, facing Marty, with Spencer’s head in her lap. Spencer craned his neck and found himself face to face with the nerdy girl’s crotch, the tip of his nose mere inches from the black fabric of her panties. That was really unreal. He could almost smell some sweet flowery perfume coming off her. If she hadn’t been holding his arms down on either side of her, he might have given in to an irrational urge to reach under those panties . . .

But he didn’t get a chance to enjoy the view for long before Marty landed a savage smack to his bare butt. He’d known his friend was stronger than him, but the force behind that first blow was staggering. It filled poor Spencer with fear as he wondered just how many more he’d get. He’d been afraid of spanking before, strictly because it would be so humiliating . . . but he hadn’t dreamed it could hurt so much. Before he knew it, he was holding back tears, kicking wildly with every strike.

He felt so terribly betrayed in that moment. How could his friend of so many years hurt and humiliate him like this? That thought alone pushed him over the edge into outright bawling. The spanking seemed to go on forever, like Marty was just having so much fun that he didn’t want to stop.

And it was all in front of Wendy, in front of a girl!

When it was finally over, a bunch of things happened that Spencer was only vaguely aware of. He could barely see through his tears, barely hear over his own loud sobbing. But Wendy released his wrists and they helped him to his feet. His whole body felt limp and tired, and his underwear chafed horribly as someone’s hands pulled them up and back into place. Then one of them, probably Marty based on the size and strength of the hand, gripped him by one arm and walked him back down the hall to his bedroom. They threw the covers over him once he was in his bed, then left and shut the door.

Spencer was alone with his tears and his thoughts, with nothing but total darkness to comfort him. He pulled the blanked tightly around his body, desperately wanting to feel clothed and covered, less vulnerable and exposed. He wanted to put on a pair of his old pyjama pants just so he wouldn’t be quite so naked when he got up in the morning, but he just felt too tired and beaten to crawl out of his bed.

It was all just so unfair . . . Marty got to be taller, Marty got to be stronger, Marty got the bigger dick, Marty got the deeper voice, Marty got paid to watch him every couple of weeks, Marty got to spank him just because he felt like it, Marty got Wendy . . . and all that that implied. It seemed like Marty got everything, and Spencer got nothing. He hated his friend for having so much more than him, for being so lucky. Deep down, he’d felt that hateful jealousy for quite a while now, even before his friend had become his babysitter, but he hadn’t let himself realize it until tonight. He’d forced himself to be okay with having a babysitter and a bathtime and a bedtime because it would be too frustrating to hate it and not be able to do anything about it.

But now there was no denying how he felt, now it was impossible to pretend it was all okay. He couldn’t go back to just playing along after tonight. Marty had kept secrets from him in his own home, beaten him until he cried, subjected him to the worst humiliation he could ever have imagined. He wasn’t a friend anymore, just the mean old babysitter.

Marty inferred as much the next morning from Spencer’s attitude toward him, but he didn’t mind. The old relationship had been getting boring anyway; Spencer’s passion for John Madden video games had become annoying, and his conversation had seemed more and more childish lately. He looked forward to their new arrangement quite eagerly. Now that the cat was out of the bag with Wendy, she didn’t have to wait till Spencer was in bed to invite her over. He could send Spence to play alone in his room while he made time with his girl, and only ever had to acknowledge the other boy’s existence when it came time to make sure he took his baths, ate his dinner, and went to bed.

He expected Spencer to be less cooperative from now on, but that was no problem. The previous night’s spanking, he assumed, was just the first of many he’d administer going forward. And with any luck, Wendy was just the first of many girls to share the pleasure with him. Oh yes, things were going to get a lot better.

(The End)