A Very Tully Christmas 1

By David

The author prefers not to display any email address. Please direct any feedback to [email protected] and it will be forwarded

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain 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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A Very Tully Christmas

By David

The characters in this story are based on my series, Marlene and the Boy Next Door, which you can find at /~puericil/david.html

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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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Part One

Twelve year old Samuel Oliver lay in the bed, quiet and thoughtful. It was still dark outside and the air was cool. Snuggling deep under the warm covers, the slumbering boy savored the moment, clinging to the solitude and the cherished quiet where one longs for just a few more minutes of precious sleep.

Suddenly he remembered. Oh gosh, it’s Christmas morning!

For a moment his eyes went wide with excitement and his heart raced in glorious realization. Giddy with anticipation, the eager child thought about how in just a few moments he would be jumping out of bed, energized to start the ritual of running through the house, alerting everyone of the obvious and heading downstairs for the tree and a magnificent day of fun, thrills and childish wish fulfillment.

Yay, it’s Christmas morning!

There would be giggling and laughter and pure gluttonous glee as presents were unwrapped and dreams would come true. All of the suspense of the season would explode in a few delightful hours of happiness and joy and boyish greed. Toys and games and gifts of all description would be the focus of this day. Nothing could compare to the exhilaration that was to come; nothing could be better than this one day of pure narcissistic delight. It was, after all, the best, most wonderful day of the year!

Yay, it’s Christmas morning!

But no, not yet, Samuel thought. Not just yet. I don’t want to rush through it and miss something. Nope, I’m going to take my time. I want this day to last for as long as I can make it.

The sound of stirring in the house caught his attention. The drowsy boy combed his long curly blond hair behind his ear with his fingers and he carefully listened. Someone was already up, which he found curious. His parents usually slept in and he always had the most awful time getting them up. He listened carefully. There was no mistake. He definitely he heard activity downstairs.

What the heck? Who could that be?

“Santa?”

Mildly curious, Samuel yawned and stretched as he looked about the room. It was dark, but a glimmer of light slipped in through the open door and down the hall, accompanied by the sound of Christmas music. He smiled, just for a moment as pleasant, appetite-stirring aromas from the kitchen mixed with a familiar feminine smell. An all … too … familiar ….

That smell … what was … that smell?

A chilling, foreboding fragrance wafted through his nostrils, sparking a faintly haunting memory. Samuel tugged at his curly locks and frowned. He suddenly felt nervous and squishy and oddly vulnerable all over. A queer queasy sensation hit the pit of his stomach, triggering his bottom muscles to clench closed, of all things, and the tip of his slumbering penis began to twitch.

What the heck was that … that smell?

The weary lad brushed his disheveled locks out of his eyes and thought for a moment. Stupid hair, always getting in the way. He wished his mother would let him but it off, but she insisted he let it grow. He shook his head. He hated arguing with his mother and he didn’t want to think about that right now. What was he thinking about …? Oh, yeah. Now he remembered. That smell. He remembered now. It was the sweet, floral scent of lavender and lilacs.

Lavender and lilacs. Mmmm … lavender and lilacs ….

The alarmed lad’s eyes suddenly popped wide open.

LAVENDER AND LILACS???

Oh … my … gosh! No … it can’t be. Not lavender and lilacs. Please, don’t let it be true! Not … lavender and lilacs!

Alert and near panic, Samuel’s heart pounded as he suddenly realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong. He froze in place and looked about in the darkness. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He wasn’t where he thought he was. This wasn't his room. He wasn’t home safe in his bed. He wasn’t anywhere near his home. And he most definitely wasn’t safe.

Holy crap!

The youngster buried his face in the soft, down-filled pillow and took a deep breath. In addition to the lavender and lilacs he detected a hint of …yes, there is was, the fetid, unmistakable stale smell of an old lady. A most particular and peculiar old lady.

No … no … no no no no no nononononooooo …!

Squirming in terror, Samuel curled his young body into a desperate fetal position and tried not to panic. The covers shifted and a cool gust of air tickled his bare bottom. What the …? That’s when he suddenly realized that he was completely naked under the soft, heavy bed clothes. He never slept naked in his own bed. Oh no, there was only one place in the world where he slept naked ….

He wasn’t in his home. And even if he was, his parents would not be joining him in celebration of Christmas. Recently divorced, his father lived in another town and his mother was on a trip out of state; Samuel would not be getting them out of bed to open presents or visit relatives.

The frightened boy gave his hair another hard tug, this time with both hands, as he realized exactly where he was. There would be no running through the house where he now found himself, no narcissistic delight or boyish greed. He doubted there would even be presents. Oh no, this was the one place on this entire planet he where he did not want to be. It was a quaint little cottage, innocent looking to passersby, with a doll house facade and adorable fairy tale garden in the back. Located at the end of a quiet, lonely lane, it was a place where the ugliest of nightmares came true, where homely old women with grandmotherly smiles and sing-song voices ruled; a place where a young boy’s dreams could be smothered and his fragile ego stripped away, leaving only shame and confusion in the form of bittersweet tears

Samuel’s pale blue eyes burned with tears and his lower lip began to tremble. Now that he fully awake he remembered everything, where he was, how he arrived and why he was there. The explanation wasn’t all that difficult; the harsh reality, well, that would prove very difficult, indeed.

The anguished lad buried his face in the soft down pillow and fought the urge to cry. But it was futile. Wet, salty ears blurred his eyes and his plump, pink lips quivered. In another second he broke down, burying his face in the lavender and lilac scented pillow case and bawling his heart out in anguished regret.

“Not Mrs. Tully … not Mrs. Tully ….,” he sobbed in the morning darkness. “Not on Christmas … Not Christmas ….”

This most definitely wasn’t the holiday he thought it was going to be.

***

It was less than twenty-four hours earlier that Samuel Oliver discovered how he was going to spend his cherished holiday.

He was being hit hard with one of those “good news, bad news” announcements. The good news was that his mother had just announced that she was going to Florida with her girlfriends for the holidays. Florida? For Christmas? Awesome! Oh, what could be better! For an instant the seventh grader had visions of amusement parks and swimming in the ocean in his mind. No cold snowy days being stuck in the house! He almost wished it was all over and he could go to school and brag about his upcoming adventure. Oh, how jealous his friends would all be when they heard how he spent his Christmas in the sun and the surf!

The good news, unfortunately, was short-lived. Samuel felt his dreams unravel as his mother continued to speak. The other half of the equation, he was about to discover, meant there was bad news to come. And it was bad. Really, really bad.

Really bad.

Yes, his mother was going to Florida. But, as she explained smugly, he wasn’t going with her. Instead, he was going to spend his Christmas somewhere much, much different.

“… And so I figured you probably wouldn’t have such a good time with your ugly old mother and her lady friends, so you’re going to stay here. Isn’t that a great idea? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel watched carefully as his mother paused for a moment and smiled. For some odd reason he felt sick to his stomach. If he didn’t know better he’d have thought she was about to give the punch line to a really bad joke.

The confused boy blinked “Here? Where here? Home by myself?” His voice had a bit of hope as he looked at his mother, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Mrs. Oliver laughed. She had a beautiful voice, so light and lilting, so musical to the ear that even when she said bad things they sounded irresistible. Like right now, for instance.

“Oh, no, you silly little boy. Not by yourself. You’re way too young for that. I’ve got other plans for you.” She gave a dramatic pause. “You’re staying with your grandmother for Christmas. You're staying with Nana Tully! What do you think of that?”

Now Samuel really felt ill. Suddenly, powerfully and horribly ill. It began with his ears, which turned red and hot and began ringing, as though they’d been boxed. His breathing became erratic and he felt his lungs seize, just long enough to add to his panic. A moment of dizziness set in and then it hit his stomach. He felt a wave of nausea so strong he thought he would throw up in the car.

He was going to spend his Christmas with … MRS. TULLY? He was going to spend Christmas in … in … Old Lady HELL???!!!

The panicked boy had to say something and he had to say it quick, before things got out of hand and the thing he thought he heard became real.

“My … my grandmother? You mean Mrs. Tully? You’re kidding, right? You … you’re … not really going to make me … make me spend Christmas with Mrs. Tully? You’re just teasing me, right?”

Samuel’s mother laughed. “No, I’m not teasing you. So you’re going to spend Christmas with Mrs. Tully. What’s wrong with that? Is that so awful?”

“Yes it is! Not Mrs. Tully, Mom! Not for Christmas!”

“Well, if you’re upset about that, you’re gonna love this.” Mrs. Oliver nodded and winked. “You’re going to spend New Year’s with her, too. The whole week long! Just you and Nana Tully. What do you think of that?”

The seventh grader’s curly blond head spun with what he heard. His relationship with Mrs. Tully was, well, complicated. While his mom called the old woman his “grandmother,” she wasn’t really related to the family. He wasn’t sure how the old witch had weaseled into their lives, but he knew he was the worst for it.

“I’m gonna have to spend the whole week with … HER?” he cried. “Christmas … AND New Year’s? With Mrs. Tully?”

Samuel’s mother shrugged her shoulders. “Well, who else would you stay with? There’s nobody better that I can think of. Especially for the holidays. From what I understand your Nana really goes all out for Christmas. She’s got this huge tree and she’s been baking all sorts of treats and there’ll be presents and stuff. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

The terrified child shook his head. “No, please, Mom. It won’t be fun. Not fun at all. Not for me. Please, don’t make me stay with Mrs. Tully! I’m begging you! Please! Please? Pretty please? Pleeeeeeeeasssssse???”

Mrs. Oliver smiled. “Oh, really, Samuel, don’t be such a crybaby. There’s nobody else, and even if there were Mrs. Tully is the best choice anyway. You’re still a child. I can’t leave you alone. You’ll just get yourself in a world of trouble and you know it!”

“Mom, I’m twelve, not five,” cried the desperate lad. “I’m almost a teenager! And she still treats me like a baby!”

“Well, maybe if you shouldn’t act like a baby ….,” his mother said with a giggle.

“But not Mrs. Tully!”

“And why not? Just think about it. She certainly knows how to make you behave, that’s for sure. It won’t be all bad. She’s practically family and she loves you to death. She’s got all sorts of fun Christmassy things planned for her little ‘baby doll.’ There’ll be presents, too, remember?”

Samuel crossed his arms and pouted. His long locks brushed his ears and shoulders, making him feel more pitiful than angry. God, he wished his mom would let him cut it short, but now wasn’t the time for that argument.

“I don’t want any presents. Not from that mean old woman!”

“You better not let her hear you call her that!” The pretty woman laughed. “And don’t be such a party pooper. New Year’s will be fun, too. You can stay up late and I hear you see the fireworks from her house. Doesn’t that sound better than hanging around your ugly old mother during the holidays with her boring old girlfriends.”

“But not with Mrs. Tully! What about Dad? Why can’t I stay with him?”

A dark shadow clouded his mother’s face as she stared at the road. “Your father? Really?” she spat. “Go ahead, ask him, if you can get ahold of the good for nothing bastard. Good luck with that. Ever since he moved in with that skanky whore ….”

Samuel regretted even bringing up the subject of his father, but … well, in the face of his current predicament, he didn’t have much choice. He braced himself for a second wave of scolding.

“If that’s what you want, if you want to go live with your … your FATHER … and kiss his sorry ass, and the ass of that fucking bitch he moved in with, then you just go right ahead. See if I care!”

The more his mother fussed the redder her face became. What was worse was that she just used the “F-word.” She never used the “F-word.” Well, almost never. Only when she talked about his father.

“So yes, you just go right ahead, little mister! Go right ahead and kiss your precious daddy’s ugly ass! And say hello to that fucking whore while you’re at it. But if you do … if you ever walk out on me … then you better not ever come crawling back. You’re on your own. If you ever leave me for that fucker, for any-fucking-body, don’t you fucking bother coming back. Do you understand me? Do you?”

Except for the sounds of the car there was silence for the longest time. Samuel hated when his mother was mad at him, especially when it came to his father. He felt that same guilt all children felt when their parents split up; he just knew it was his fault that they’d divorced.

“I … I understand, Mommy,” Samuel said in a soft, pleading voice. “I don’t want to go away. I promise. I won’t ever leave you. I really, really promise.”

“Well, you better, because I mean it! I’m sick and tired of not being appreciated. After all I do for you … and all this because you don’t like your grandmother? After all she’s done for us? Give me a fucking break!”

“I … I’m sorry, Mommy,” the cowering boy whispered. He wished she wouldn’t use the “F-word.” He never heard her say it so many times in his life. That was not good and it scared him.

Mrs. Oliver shot her son a sour, foul stare that shook the frightened boy to his core. Samuel looked at the road, took a deep breath and tried to think of the right thing to say.

“I’m really sorry, Mommy,” he said once more, begging for her forgiveness. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was that silence again. The worried boy squirmed in his seat and tried to think of what he needed to say next.

“It’s just that … not Nana Tully,” he pleaded. He clasped his hands dramatically together. “Please, Mom, don’t make me stay with her again. Especially not for Christmas. Can’t I come with you?   Please? Pleeeeeeeassssssse?”

Samuel winced as he said the words. He knew he was taking the risk of reigniting his mother’s fury, but his very future was at stake. As afraid as he was of angering her, he was even more fearful of his dreaded grandmother.

It turned out that he was wrong.   His mother didn’t yell at him at all. She didn’t use the “F-word” again. She didn’t do any of that. She didn’t even scowl at him. What she did was quite different. Quite different, but just as scary.

“What’s the matter, baby doll?” Mrs. Oliver’s voice was suddenly and oddly playful, bordering on mockery. “You don’t sound very happy. I thought you’d be excited about spending Christmas with your grandmother. I know she’s excited about you coming to stay with her. Your Nana has all sorts of interesting games planned for you. I just know you’re going to have all sorts of fun.”

“But, Moooom ….”

Samuel knew exactly what his mother was doing. She was teasing him again, trying to get him to cry. She’d been doing that a lot lately and he hated it. It was like she was bullying him, as if she was his mean-spirited big sister rather than his mother. Sometimes she did things that shocked and embarrassed him, almost as if she’d been taking lessons from that stupid ol’ Mrs. Tully.

“Just like … Mrs. Tully ….” he whispered quietly. “Ugh!”

The anxious boy squirmed in his seat as the car sped along the highway. What was wrong with his mother? Why was she acting so mean to him lately. She was his mom, not some ugly old woman, not some old witch! Why did she have to be so… so cruel ?

“What’s the matter, baby doll? Is little Sammy ‘fraid his Nana is going to treat him like a baby instead of the big boy he thinks he is? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel tried not to let his mother’s teasing get to him, but it was futile. She knew how he hated when she used baby talk on him. She also knew how he felt about his “grandmother.” He’d told her all the stories and she was always ready to listen to him whine and moan over the indignities imposed on him by that wicked old woman. But she never did anything about it. Oh, she’d listen patiently and ask all sorts of detailed questions, sometimes too many. She was obviously more curious than sympathetic about his plight. And instead of taking his side she’d dismiss his grievances with a little laugh and a wave of her hand. From the way things were going lately, she enjoyed hearing about his suffering.

“Oh, really, Samuel, you’re such a crybaby. I can’t believe you’re making such a fuss over that nice old woman. You make it sound like she’s been abusing you. She wouldn’t abuse you, she loves you too much. Silly little boy. You silly, silly little boy.”

“But Mooommm!!!! She's not nice! She’s mean to me every time you leave me with her!”

“Oh Samuel, please! Don’t lie to me. That old woman wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. She might warm your bare butt up for misbehaving, but that’s totally different.”

“But what about when she makes me go without any clothes? What about that?”

“What about it? You threatened to run off. We’ve discussed this before. What did you expect her to do?” Mrs. Oliver grinned to see her son’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Besides, the way I heard it, I think you like showing off your pretty little butt. Do you have fun letting that little girl next door see you naked?”

“But … but … I didn’t … I don’t … that dumb ol’ girl wasn’t supposed to ....” The flustered child was speechless. He clearly wasn’t going to win this argument.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Mrs. Oliver raised her eyebrow once again, her face forming an amused smirk. “Don’t be ungrateful. Mrs. Tully told me Santa has big plans for you this year. It sounds to me as if you’re going to have a wonderful Christmas. Probably one that you’ll never forget.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the youngster said with a pout.

“Well, you’ll just have to grin and bear it.” Mrs. Oliver gave a little laugh. “If you don’t behave, you might really have to ‘bare’ it! Get it? B-A-R-E? ‘Bare’ it? Like getting a spanking on your BARE butt?”

Samuel gave a horrified gasp. “Mom! No! That’s what I’m talking about! That’s not funny! It’s not funny at all!”

“Well, then maybe you need to mind your manners. You do exactly what your grandmother says, do you understand me? She’s got my permission to do whatever needs to be done. You mind her or there WILL be hell to pay if you don’t. If you think she’s abusing you, you let me hear you’ve misbehaved. I’ll show you abuse! I’ll pull your little panties down myself and wear you out! You won’t see a pair of pants again for as long as you live! Do you hear me? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel started to say something, but thought the better of it. He lowered his eyes and nodded his head.

“I understand,” he croaked.

“Good. You better. And I don’t want to hear any more complaints. Considering your nasty little bathroom habit, you need a little tough love. Maybe she can fix you. Lord knows I can’t.”

“Mom!”

Samuel hated when his mother brought up his … well, his “bathroom habit.” It was way too embarrassing! She knew how much he hated talking about it and yet she continually teased him about it. He watched with dread as a coy smile spread across her thick red painted lips and her eyebrow raised up in a knowing, almost evil, contemptuous manner.

“Don’t bother denying it, baby doll. We’ve had this talk before. I know what you’ve been doing. You spend way too much time in the bathroom with your hands between your legs, pulling on your little thing. You really need to stop. You’re way too young to be that perverted.”

The blushing boy bit his lip. She caught him that one time, standing in the bathroom and looking at his privates. He really wasn’t, well, … okay, so yes, she caught him jerking off. But it was just that one time. And now she treated him like he was some sort of sicko, always snooping and checking on him. He closed his eyes wished he was a million miles away. He’d never live down that moment. Why did she have to talk about this now?

“Samuel! I’m talking to you! Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the blushing youngster replied. He went back to twisting the end of his hair around his finger and praying for the end of that conversation.

“You better be listening. You think you know everything, but you don’t. Just because they all say ‘if it feels good, do it’ doesn’t mean you have to jerk off all the damned time.”

“Mom!”

The horrified boy put his hands over his ears. Why did she have to say “jerk off” like that? Other moms didn’t talk that way … did they?

Mrs. Oliver grinned. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. If you’re not careful you’ll pull it off!”

Samuel sighed as his mother laughed at her little joke. There was no arguing with her about anything.

Stupid wiener, he lamented in his mind. All does is get me in trouble. Sometimes I wish I really could pull it off!

Fair or not, all Samuel’s mother had to do was bring up his dirty laundry and she was the winner of any argument. Talking with her about such private matters was humiliating enough, even when she didn’t tease him. But lately she seemed especially eager to discuss his experiences with Mrs. Tully and his “bathroom habits” and anything else that embarrassed him. She’d chatter on and on, criticizing him and making him sorry he’d dared to challenge her authority. Sometimes her mocking questions were so painful he wanted to scream.

It’s not fair, he thought to himself. It’s not fair at all!

Mrs. Oliver cleared her throat and gave a little giggle. “Okay, no more arguments and no more pouting, baby doll. It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to be happy! Happy, happy, happy!”

Samuel Oliver sat in his thoughts, twirling his blond locks with his finger and trying not to worry about the horrors to come. He squirmed in his seat as he wondered how long it would be before he’d lose his clothes and get his first spanking.

Mom probably won’t be out of the driveway before Old Lady Tully makes me take my clothes off, he silently lamented. I won’t see another pair of pants until after New Year’s!

The worried boy bit his lip. This is so stupid! I can’t believe this is happening to me. I don’t need a stupid babysitter anymore! I’m almost a teenager for god’s sake! How can this be happening to me again?

Samuel looked over at his mother and nodded automatically as she yammered on about her impending vacation trip. He couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t fair that she was going to the land of amusement parks and sunny beaches ….

This is going to be the worst Christmas ever, he thought as the car pulled in front of his grandmother’s home. He wiped a tear from his cheek.

Yep, he was headed for Old Lady Hell, all right, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

To be continued ….

(The End)