It's a Tully Halloween 6

By David

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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
Part Six – The Life of the Party

Twelve year old Samuel Oliver stood at the top of the stairs in his babysitter’s house feeling quite the fool. It was All Hallow’s Eve, that glorious night when boys and girls of all ages donned spectacular and fanciful costumes and ran about collecting scrumptious treats and oftentimes playing tricks on unsuspecting victims; it was a special time when inhibitions were shed and identities were blurred and inner desires and wishes came to life; it was an opportunity for some to play out roles and experiment with “What if?” and “Do I dare?”; and for still others it was a chance to flirt with danger and live life on the edge, sometimes close to disaster … or perhaps a bit too close ….

In Samuel’s case it could be argued that his Halloween had more than its share of each of these elements, though perhaps not to his liking. The seventh grader’s original plans had gone awry at the most inopportune time; he’d intended to impress his friends and peers with the marvelous homemade Iron Man costume he’d constructed himself, but his mother ruined his plans at the last possible minute when she handed him over to the dreadful Irma Tully for the holiday; the events of that afternoon and evening went downhill from there. The poor boy endured countless misadventures in the following hours, each more humiliating and terrible than the last. He hoped and he prayed that the end of the night would find him refuge from his horrible journey; instead, he stood at the top of the staircase at Mrs. Tully’s home preparing to take part in a mysterious Halloween party his babysitter was hosting for a bunch of her decrepit old lady friends.

So, you might ask, why was he feeling foolish?

It might have had something to do with his costume. What Samuel wore at that moment was nothing at all like what he’d planned or wanted. The dazed lad was completely nude except for a pair of teeny tiny pink feathered wings stuck in the middle of his back with a strip of very strong adhesive tape. He had nothing else, no cape or mask or disguise, no face paint or make up or anything, to cover his bare skin or conceal his identity.

“I feel sick,” the anxious youngster whispered to himself. “This is not what I wanted … not even close.”

Indeed, Samuel had good reason to feel ill. His sparse costume was the result of yet another one of the infamous pranks Mrs. Tully loved to inflict on the unfortunate child, a cruel trick designed to humiliate him as much as it was to make her happy. The blushing lad was supposed to co-host his grandmother’s party dressed as a delightful Cupid, a role he wanted nothing to do with. An argument ensued and young Samuel’s costume was now incomplete; the cheap plastic bow and arrow set, along with some girlish pink tulle netting, were discarded if not forgotten in Mrs. Tully’s bedroom. Long gone was the possibility of any other costumes or Halloween adornments that might have been more to the modest child’s liking. With the exception of the childish doll-like wings, Samuel would be attending Mrs. Tully’s dreaded party in his bare skin, looking more like a naked winged angel than the superhero he so yearned to be.

“I feel so stupid,” he whispered to himself. “Why does this kind of stuff keep happening to me?!”

Complicating matters was the blushing lad’s inexplicable erection. One could have thought that being so ashamed and so frightened by his predicament would have caused Samuel’s boyish organ to go into hiding, but those factors seemed to have had the opposite effect on his libido.

Or it could have been that our young hero’s arousal might have had something to do with the mischievous Mrs. Tully; while our young hero might never admit it aloud, he knew from personal experience that his babysitter’s licentious and inappropriate attentions often excited him to the point of arousal. It was as though she had some magical power over his mind and body; she had, in fact, demonstrated on many occasions the ability to make him feel and do things that he would never under different circumstances, so perhaps she did have supernatural abilities. Or, most likely, she was just a manipulative, conniving sadist who thrived on bullying her naïve victim. Regardless of how it happened, a flustered Samuel Oliver was faced with a stiff penis that showed no signs of going away.

Stupid dick, the trembling child thought silently as he stared down at the pink appendage merrily protruding from between his chubby thighs. Sometimes I wish I could just cut it off and be done with it! It’s always getting me in trouble … why even have the dumb thing!

As Samuel pondered his fate, his quandary only seemed to worsen. Below him, hidden in the darkness at the bottom of the staircase, phantom shadows lurked and an eerie soundtrack of ghostly moans and rattling chains rose up to haunt him; most of these came from hidden speakers spread throughout the house, but Samuel could have sworn he heard real voices, sinister whispers and taunting laughter, as well. Running about in the nude – while not something he particularly enjoyed doing – was a normal part of life under his babysitter’s rule; but being without clothes on Halloween, surrounded by all of its ghastly imagery, creepy moods and monstrous themes … that was more than a bit unnerving.

This is really spooky, the naked child thought as he hugged his body in despair. Halloween is a lot scarier if you’re not wearing any clothes!

In contrast to young Samuel, Irma Tully was having the time of her life. The bosomy bully hovered over her helpless victim, playfully primping and plucking at the nervous boy’s hair and costume – what little there was of it – like a mother hen. Or in this case, like a gloating, gluttonous witch. She certainly looked the part in her voluminous black dress and tall pointed hat. The pair made quite a sight, a nude winged angel and a gigantic, obese sorceress, standing together in the dim candlelight.

“I think giving up being a cupid was a good decision you made, baby doll,” his babysitter told Samuel in a deceptively kind and more than slightly sarcastic voice. She ran her fingers over his bare shoulders and down along his ribs and waist. “You look so much more mature as a pretty angel instead of a silly cupid. Whatever was I thinking, giving you that ridiculous little bow and arrow?”

She let fly a spiteful, mocking giggle as she tickled the indignant boy under his arms and along his naked sides. “What would a child your age want with such dangerous weapons anyway? Mmmm … no … I much prefer you as a Nana’s lovely little angel instead … so soft, so pink … so innocent … so pret-teeeeeeee ….”

“Please, don’t tease me, Nana,” Samuel replied with a nervous giggle. He was frustrated and ashamed of himself for laughing, but his adopted grandmother was a master tickler and she knew all of his most sensitive spots. He gave another involuntary laugh as the old woman caressed him down his naked belly and flicked the tip of his erect penis with her fingernail.

“Ow, Nana! Please don’t do that! This isn’t fun or funny!” the embarrassed lad fussed. “You’re making me laugh when I don’t want to! Please, Nana … no more tickling!”

The fat woman put her hands on her hips in mock frustration. “Now there you go again, being a negative Nancy! You better watch out … Nana might put you back over her lap again and give you another warning spanking!”

Samuel froze up at the mention of the heinous “warning spanking.” He’d endured two of them that very day – the most recent only a few minutes earlier – and his poor blistered bottom was suffering for it. There was no way he wanted another! Sighing heavily, the beaten boy resigned himself to the fact that he was pretty much going to have to do whatever his evil babysitter said – no matter how silly or humiliating it might be – if he was going to get through the next couple of hours without a third thrashing.

Geez, this is going to be just awful, he fussed in his mind. I hate this, but Old Lady Tully acts like it’s all fun and games for everybody. Well, it isn’t for me, that’s for danged sure!

“I … I’m sorry, Nana. I don’t mean to be … a … a negative … Nancy.” Samuel sighed. He hated referring to himself in feminine terms, but if that kept him from getting his butt beat, it was a small price to pay. “I’ll be good … I promise!”

The nude lad licked his lips and tugged at his curly blond locks as he thought about his situation, completely unaware that his innocent actions only added to his effeminate image; indeed, even the most skeptical viewer would have thought they were seeing a young girl posing coquettishly, coyly stroking her shoulder length hair and looking so sweet and demure.

Irma Tully was so ecstatic by the sight before her she nearly swooned in euphoria! To see her adopted grandson fall into this role so naturally, so perfectly … was the pay off, when all of her scheming and manipulations and expertise came together to create such imagery … and opportunity! This was, for the villainous babysitter, turning into the best Halloween ever!

“Oh, you gorgeous little thing! How I love you so very much!” The greedy witch pulled Samuel’s face into her bosom, practically smothering him between her humongous breasts; snorting happily, she hugged the struggling child with all her might and then bent down to plaster wet kisses all over his forehead and cheeks, leaving bright red lip prints everywhere.

“You make Nana so proud and so happy, she just can’t stand it! I swear, if you were mine, we’d do this all day every day, year round! My little angel in his pretty angel wings! What joy! What loveliness! What bliss you bring me! I promise you, child, you would have so much fun and I’d be so happy, it would be pure and simple heaven!”

Samuel fought to catch his breath as his babysitter ranted on. None of what this crazy old lady said made any sense. He used to try to think about what she said, but he eventually just gave up on it. She was just talking her usual nonsense, of course, finding another dumb reason to keep him naked and put him in the most godawful predicament imaginable simply so she could make fun of him. This was all just another way of bullying him; he knew it and she knew it, but as you were told before, dearest reader, there wasn’t much he could do about any of it.

His poor blistered bottom was a sore reminder of that!

Irma Tully suddenly stopped talking. That’s when Samuel noticed she had a tissue in her hand and a weird grin on her face. He thought about his stupid penis sticking out and he braced himself for whatever was about to happen next. You never knew what that strange old woman was up to.

“Uh-oh! Nana made a mess on her pretty baby doll’s face! Nana’s friends will certainly get jealous if they find out we’ve been trading naughty kisses, hmmm? And we certainly can’t have that, can we? Imagine the scandal that would cause!”

The blushing boy bit his lip. For an instant he thought his babysitter was going to masturbate him. He was embarrassed to realize that he was both relieved and disappointed to discover that she was apparently not. Now he really felt bad … almost guilty; he sort of wanted her to jerk him off, if for no other reason than to just make his stupid erection go away.

“I … I g-guess not,” he stammered awkwardly.

“I should say not!” Mrs. Tully laughed. “Just think of the gossip it would create! Oh, you precious little tease, you! No wonder I love you so very much! Here, let Nana clean you up and make you look gorgeous again. Not that you need any help … you pretty, pretty boy!”

Samuel stood quietly as the bosomy matron spit on the tissue and smeared it across his face and eyes and mouth. He hated whenever she did this – it made him feel like a little kid, not a twelve year old seventh grader, which is what he was supposed to be – but he had little choice. It was either putting up with old lady spit or risk getting another warning spanking … and he sure as heck wasn’t about to risk another one of those!

Once his face was lipstick free, the naked lad sighed and wondered what he should do next. He was supposed to precede his babysitter down the stairs, but he really didn’t want to do that; according to the old witch an “audience” was waiting for him downstairs and that didn’t sound good at all. He’d much rather go back to bed or, better yet, go to his own home and hide in his room. But he knew neither of those were about to happen.

What made this all the more difficult was how spooky everything was in Mrs. Tully’s creepy old house. Aside from the fact that the lights were still out except for a couple of candles, there seemed to be new voices and whispers mixed in with the ghostly groans emitting from the hidden stereo speakers. As you’ll recall, Samuel thought these things were fun when he first arrived earlier that afternoon, but the events of the past few hours caused him to reassess his situation. Being naked in a creepy old house wasn’t much fun at all! A shiver of fear swept over his body as he tried to imagine what was awaiting him in the eerie darkness … downstairs … at the bottom of the staircase.

How do I get myself in these situations, he silently wondered. This is just crazy!

All of a sudden he had a thought, a glimmer of hope that might, just maybe, spell the end to this horrible nightmare.

“Nana, you’re not really having a party, are you?” he whispered weakly. He knew the answer probably was not what he wanted to hear, but he felt driven to ask anyway. “Isn’t it too late? I mean, it was supposed to start at ten o’clock and I didn’t get home until nine thirty. There’s not really a party, is there? You’re just teasing me, right?”

The old witch cackled, the sound of merriment and delight giving depth and volume to her voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby doll. It’s barely ten o’clock now and the party is about to start!   We’ve got all night long ahead of us … and plenty of fun to look forward to!”

As if on cue the downstairs clock began chiming away, punctuating Old Lady Tully’s words one clang at a time. Samuel frowned as he counted the bells, first one, then two … three … four … five … and eventually ten.

That didn’t make any sense, he thought. How could it be only ten o’clock? Marlene and I didn’t get back until nine thirty. I saw the clock. It’s had to be at least an hour since we got back, what with me taking a bath and dozing off … and then putting on this stupid costume and all.

This doesn’t make any sense at all!

How can this be?

A sharp pointed fingertip pressed against the small of Samuel’s naked back, nudging him to take the first step down the stairs. He was so scared he lost his balance and stumbled; he would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed the guardrail.

“Go on, baby doll. You heard the bells. It’s ten o’clock. The party is starting and people are waiting to be entertained … you don’t want to be late to your own show ….”

“Please don’t tease me, Nana” Samuel squinted into the blackness below and bit his lip. “I mean, there really isn’t anybody down there ... is there?” he whispered. “It’s awful scary downstairs.”

“Aw, is Nana Witchy Poo’s little angel scared?” Mrs. Tully sang with a girlish giggle. She gave the reluctant boy another push with her pointed finger. “Go on, you silly, pretty little angel. Your audience awaits ….”

A mixture of terror and shame caused the frightened boy to shudder as he slowly made his way down the staircase. He’d never noticed it before, but the old boards creaked with his every step, making it feel as though he was in a real life haunted house. Though he couldn’t see anything for certain, he thought he detected eerie phantoms moving in the darkness below him; the glowing decorations cast spooky shadows and silhouettes everywhere he looked, adding to the authenticity of the night. Murmurs and muted laughter rose up to meet him as well, making him think that, yes, there was most definitely someone at the bottom … watching him … waiting for him … preparing for him … for who knew what ….

“Here he comes,” a soft voice whispered. “He’s coming ... he’s coming ....”

A hissing chorus echoed the message. “He’s coming ... he’s coming ....”

Samuel paused and bit his lip. “Who is that?” he called out. “Is anybody there? I hear something. Who is it? Who’s there?”

A ripple of ghostly giggles rose from the darkness, triggering a blush across the young boy’s cheeks. He pressed his thighs together in a vain attempt to hide his tingling erection; for some reason it was sticking out even more than it was a few minutes earlier.

“I see him,” whispered one of the shadows. “He’s almost here … he’s almost here ….”

“I see him, too,” replied second phantom in the darkness. “He’s almost here ….”

“Mmmm … I can’t wait,” purred yet another. “This should be fun ….”

Samuel Oliver took a deep breath, let it out, and decided maybe he should go back up the stairs.

Things are getting really spooky, he thought. This isn’t such a good idea.

***

This would not be the first time Samuel Oliver attended one of his wicked babysitter’s parties in the nude. Such experiences, while not an everyday occurrence, took place often enough that he knew pretty well what to expect … and what to fear. They were usually small, intimate gatherings of anywhere from one or two up to half a dozen of Mrs. Tully’s friends, usually when a game of gin rummy or bridge was involved. There would be tea and cookies and sometimes a light lunch on special occasions; and, of course, plenty of old lady gossiping and chit-chat, enough to bore even the most patient of young boys.

But being bored was the least of Samuel’s concerns. The first time he was presented at one of his babysitter’s parties the poor boy had just received an unexpected all-out blistering paddling with her hairbrush. His shoes and socks and pants and underwear had been seized, leaving the poor lad wearing a simple white t-shirt that did nothing to conceal his glowing red bottom and shriveled penis. He was standing in the corner of the parlor with his nose against the wall – standard operating procedure in “attracting his attention” when he was being disciplined– when he discovered his babysitter had invited a handful of her friends over for tea … and to introduce them to her newly adopted grandson!

You can imagine the surprise and shame our young hero experienced as the doorbell rang and he was suddenly surrounded by a roomful of chatty, nosey women. Before that day his bare bottom had only been seen by his mother and his hated babysitter; now it seemed that everyone in the neighborhood was going to see him naked! Try as he might, the bare bottomed boy could not blend into the wallpaper or turn invisible; he was eventually ordered to spin about and face his adopted grandmother’s friends while she made the proper introductions.

“… and this is my pretty grandson, Samuel Oliver!” Irma Tully proudly declared, pushing the half-naked child toward her smirking, smiling guests. “Isn’t he the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen in your life?! Don’t mind his red bottom … we just had a little warning paddling over some naughty behavior. I’m sure he’ll be on his best manners for the remainder of the afternoon. Now, who wants to try some of my world famous chocolate dipped cookies!”

The blushing boy was handed a tray of cookies; he couldn’t believe his ears when he was then directed to go around the room and share them with his babysitter’s guests. But before he could begin his babysitter confiscated his t-shirt, leaving the horrified lad completely naked amidst a roomful of middle aged women. He felt dizzy as he made his rounds, as if he was trapped in a bad dream.

“There, isn’t that much better?” sang Mrs. Tully as she proudly watched her little prisoner tiptoe nervously amongst the smiling females. “See how pretty he is, ladies? Oh, don’t be jealous, now! You’ll be seeing plenty of him soon enough. He’ll be here from now on, helping me with my little get-togethers. We’re all going to become the best of friends and have the best time ever!”

Samuel was so upset and confused he couldn’t even think about the implications of what his babysitter was saying. To be rendered nude and then leered and laughed at by a bunch of grown women in their fancy dresses and coiffed hairdos was a mortifying experience for the youngster; his heart raced so hard and his face burned so hot, he thought he would die! He felt so miserable he actually longed to hide in the corner and put his nose back against that stupid flowery wallpaper!

But that never happened. Instead, Samuel spent the remainder of that afternoon and much of the evening facing the mocking grins and leering eyes of a bunch of rude old hags. Standing awkwardly by Mrs. Tully’s side, her arm wrapped tightly about his bare waist preventing his escape, the bashful boy suffered exquisite helplessness and hopelessness before his appreciative audience.

“Just be still and look pretty, baby doll,” the delightful woman told him. “You can do that for Nana, can’t you? Hmm? Hmmm? Unless you’d like another spanking, hmmmm?”

Just as Mrs. Tully promised, everyone had a marvelous time; well, except for a certain twelve year old boy, of course. There were giggles and whispers and lewd remarks – “Look at that cute little tushie!” “He looks so sweet in his bare skin, I just can’t stand it!” “Darn it! We missed seeing his fat butt getting spanked!” – which were most troubling. But the good news was that Samuel didn’t get another spanking that day, which almost made him happy. Almost.

As spring turned to summer Irma Tully held more and more social events and somehow Samuel Oliver ended up attending each and every one. The beleaguered boy began wondering if his mother was actually sending him to stay with his babysitter for that very purpose. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made to him; there was no secret that his mother adored that creepy old woman as she had embraced many of her disciplinary measures at home with great success. The proof of his theory came when he missed one baseball game too many and the coach finally kicked him off the team!

“Mom knows how much I hate staying with Old Lady Tully,” Samuel said on many occasions. “I bet she sends me over here just to be mean to me! Gah! I wish I lived with my dad … he wouldn’t let this kind of stuff happen! I’d still be on the team if he knew about this!”

Amidst idle dreams of his father coming to the rescue, Samuel had to contend with the realities of life. One thing he quickly learned about Mrs. Tully’s little social events was getting ready for them was almost as bad as participating in them. Well, almost. As soon as her young prisoner arrived for his weekend the buxom bully put him to work cleaning the house and making preparations. There was furniture to be dusted and carpets to be vacuumed and floors to be scrubbed; the kitchen had to be scoured from top to bottom, and likewise with the bathrooms, downstairs and up. Of course, it all had to be done in the nude because that’s how things were always done in the little house at the end of the lane.

“You know Nana’s rules,” the mischievous matron sang when Samuel complained about having to do his chores in his bare skin. “It’s summertime and it’s way too hot for little boys to be running around in stinky old t-shirts and jeans. And besides, you’ll just get your things all dirty doing your chores. Now, no more arguing … unless you want a taste of Nana’s hairbrush!”

As Samuel polished one of the ancient porcelain toilets with a pink toothbrush – “Do a good job, baby doll! Make it shiny for your hiney!” – he fretted over who would be attending his grandmother’s next get-together and wonder what kind of indignities he might have to endure when they saw him without any clothes on.

“It’s probably just gonna be another bunch of dumb old ladies,” the naked lad would tell himself over and over again. “It’s not like it’s somebody I care about or knows me. I guess it could be worse.”

Sometimes Samuel’s paranoia caused him to conjure up even more worries. “Oh geez! What if that crazy old woman invited a bunch of girls over to see me! Or somebody I know from school! Or one of my teachers! My life would be ruined if that ever happened! I’d have to move to Australia!”

Getting ready for parties also applied to little boys’ bodies as well as the houses they cleaned. Baths had to be taken, hair had to be shampooed, dried and brushed and bare bottoms had to be lovingly spanked and powdered. Of course, enemas always had to be given, but that is a different story; let’s just say that, in the words of the ever jubilant Irma Tully, Samuel would be “sparking clean, inside and out!”

At long last the doorbell would ring and it would be time to face those sneering faces and ogling eyes. Samuel whimpered and he whined and he protested – as much as one dared protest anything Irma Tully did! – but the old woman was quite insistent that he be the one to open the door and greet their guests … and that’s when the party really got started!

No matter how many times Samuel faced his grandmother’s friends in his birthday suit it was always a shock to his system; to see all those women dressed up in their fancy clothes and jewelry and appearing so sophisticated ... and then to glance down and see his plump, silly naked little boy body looking so pitiful and defenseless ... it was so humbling, so frightening. And then to hear what these mature, stately ladies had to say about his appearance, that was just plain unbearable; the comments came fast and furious, and they were as mocking and cruel as the women who made them.

“My goodness, Irma, you’ve certainly got a pretty one this time! He’s so adorable, I just might steal him away from you and take him home for myself.”

“You can’t have him, darling! I’m taking him home with me!”

“Oooo, how charming! Your sweet Samuel is so cute and innocent, just like a baby! A big, fat overgrown baby! Isn’t that the funniest thing!”

“What a little tease he is, showing off that sweet bare bottom and those cute little titties! The spoiled brat should be ashamed of himself, parading around like that in front of us ladies! What a naughty little tease he is ….”

The one constant in Irma Tully’s social circle was her life-long, dearest and best friend Mrs. Gertrude Haggard. As far as Samuel was concerned, that old lady was the most vile, evil creature on the planet. To him she was just another ugly old woman – she looked just like that old hag who chased after Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” movie – who took pleasure in making his life miserable. While the other ladies jokingly teased and taunted our young hero, Old Lady Haggard was truly spiteful and cruel. She didn’t like little boys and Samuel in particular. And she did not hide that fact. She was open in her malice and often went out of her way to debase and humiliate our unfortunate hero.

“Honestly, Irma, I do not know how you put up with such vile little creatures,” the old woman often said during Mrs. Tully’s little parties. “He is cute enough, I must admit, but 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 behaved little girl.”

Old Lady Haggard’s comments were always met with hoots and hollers from her peers; they also refocused the interest in Samuel being the only naked boy in the room. The amused laughter and arrogant looks hit the blushing lad as hard as a punch to the stomach. Who knew old ladies could be so mean? Being the subject of so much scrutiny made serving cookies and tea extremely difficult to do without bursting into tears or going weak-kneed and fainting; with every step, every “Would you care for more tea?” the poor boy could feel the barrage of gleeful, curious eyes probing his body, staring at his exposed privates and judging his plump bottom as he walked about the room.

“This is just awful!” Samuel whispered to himself as he fought to keep his composure. His plump boy boobs with their pink swollen nipples jiggled with every step and his little penis looked so silly bouncing about between his legs; the horrified lad just wanted to die, he was so ashamed!

“No wonder those old ladies are all laughing at me,” he whispered to himself. “I look so stupid, I’d probably laugh, too, if I saw somebody else like this!”

Hearing her grandson complain about having to entertain her guests in his birthday suit, Mrs. Tully eventually presented Samuel with a “uniform” to wear. It was a cruel joke, of course – after all, Irma Tully was well known for her sense of humor, you know – in the form of a skimpy white apron no larger than a hand towel. The blushing boy soon found himself facing his grandmother’s friends in what quickly became known as his “little maid’s costume,” a term that never failed to bring color to his cheeks. And with good reason: he absolutely despised the damned thing!

Oh yes, if there was any piece of clothing on the planet that Samuel did not like, it was that stupid apron. He literally hated that silly little bit of cloth with such a passion! He hated the white cotton fabric with its creased pleats and those stupid eyelet ruffles; he hated how the starched material was stiff and coarse against his skin and how it irritated and scratched sensitive spots on his body, especially his plump nipples and the tip of his penis!

Samuel especially hated the design of his new apron; the top was barely high enough to cover his boy boobs and the hem was so short and flared out so far he was always pulling it down to hide his dumb wiener. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the back didn’t do anything to hide his bare bottom; to him, in fact, it looked like the dumb thing was meant to show off his stupid bubble butt! I mean, why ever bother, right? Am I right? Hmm? Am I?

“This stupid thing doesn’t do any good,” he whispered the first time he put on his new apron. All he had to do was stand in front of the mirror and turn just a little bit to the side and he could see his fat bottom peeking out for the world to see. “I may as well not even be wearing the dumb thing!”

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, the worried boy suddenly realized something else: the darned thing made him look like he was wearing a little girl’s dress. Argh! It was true! Trimmed in ruffles and lace and decorated with little embroidered hearts and ribbons, the scant garment certainly had all the details of a dress; it even tied up in the back with a huge white bow, just like a girl’s fancy Sunday school frock!

“Not a dress,” Samuel whispered as he gazed at the ghastly sight in the looking glass. “Not a girl’s dress … I don’t want to look like a girl ….”

Of course, Irma Tully wasn’t satisfied with just making her adopted grandson look like he was wearing a dress. That would be too simple. No, she had to add matching white ribbons to his curly blond hair, brushing the shoulder-length locks down the middle and tying matching bows on either side. The childish pigtails did as much to emasculate Samuel’s appearance as did his new apron.

“Ooooo, how pret-ty!” cooed the grinning gargantuan. She flipped the springy pigtails with her fingers and giggled like a spoiled little girl. “My pretty little sissy is all set to entertain our guests ….”

Needless to say, Samuel despised how he looked in his new uniform; it literally made him sick to his stomach! As much as he hated going naked in front of other people, the idea of his grandmother’s mean old lady friends seeing him looking so girlish, so … so childish … well, it seemed much, much worse … even worse than going naked!

“Please, Nana, don’t make me look like this in front of those ladies,” Samuel squeaked in misery. He turned his head from left to right and he blanched to see his newly acquired pigtails happily bouncing about. “I look so dumb like this … I hate it!”

Mrs. Tully’s reaction was not quite what he expected. The tearful lad braced himself for a slap across the face and perhaps even a paddling with the dreaded hairbrush. What he got instead was … unnerving.

“Whaaaaat? But hims wooks so pwet-ty in hims pwet-ty wittle apwon and hims wittle wibbons. Hims wooks just wike a pwetty pageant pwincess!” Irma Tully poked and primped at the blushing boy’s freshly ironed garment, adjusting this strap and that ruffle, just as she would a little girl’s dress. “Nana thought her wittle baby doll didn’t want to go nakies in fwont of the mean old womens. Poor, poor wittle fing ….”

A loud, boisterous belly laugh punctuated the fat woman’s mocking soliloquy. She was clearly having the time of her life playing dress up with her personal little real-life boy dolly

The flustered child gritted his teeth. It was so frustrating when she got like that. Yes, he was lucky in that she didn’t give him a spanking … but still … just once he wanted her to talk to him like an adult and not some … some … someone who was retarded or brain-damaged!

“Please Nana … no baby talk, please! I’m serious! Everybody is going to laugh at me and call me a sissy! I’ll be good, Nana, I promise I will! Just don’t make me go out there looking like a girl! PUH-LEEEEEEEASSSSSE???!!!”

The obese woman stood up to her full height, her humongous breasts wobbling from left to right as she towered over the scantily clad preteen. While her voice was delightful and full of sweetness, there was an unmistakable undertone of danger that could send shivers down one’s spine. Samuel got so scared he thought he might pee right there on the spot!

“Oh, pish posh, baby doll! You’re just being silly! Such a silly little boy you are! So what if Nana’s girlfriends laugh at you? So what if they call you a sissy? Those are just words. Think about how you are bringing so much happiness into their lives. Nana’s friends adore you! They just love playing you and having fun with you, and you make them laugh every time they see you. There’s no harm done. You should be proud of yourself, baby doll, knowing that you can make Nana’s friends smile and laugh. Now, don’t be a party pooper. I want you to go out and show everyone a good time! Unless, of course, you’d like a little session with Nana’s hairbrush over her lap. We haven’t had a good spanking for at least an hour. Nana is happy to oblige you … all you have to do is keep arguing ….”

The defeated lad conceded the argument and accepted his fate. He’d pretty much do anything to keep from getting another beating, even if it meant going naked or looking like a stupid old girl.

“It’s just a bunch of old ladies,” he kept telling himself. “Nobody cares … it’s just old ladies … it’s just old ladies ….”

Needless to say, Samuel’s new uniform was quite a hit among Mrs. Tully’s friends at the next party. Adorned in their most fashionable hats and dresses, a handful of rowdy, talkative ladies showed up for a Saturday luncheon and a bridge tournament on Mrs. Tully’s patio. A bashful, effeminate figure made his appearance to loud applause and Samuel Oliver quickly became the center of everyone’s undivided attention, which pleased his babysitter to no end.

“See what I mean, baby doll,” she cooed sarcastically as her friends laughed and pointed at the bashful boy in his skimpy, frilly uniform. “Everyone just loves you! You should be proud of how happy you make Nana’s friends. Now, let’s see a big smile on that precious face. That’s it … such a pretty smile. They’re all so happy, so you need to be happy, too!”

The house quickly filled with so much merriment and joy; everyone was smitten by Samuel’s “little maid costume” and they fussed over his girlish hairstyle to no end. There was so much ado among the elderly ladies about his feminine appearance and demure demeanor, in fact, that he felt absolutely sick with shame; furious at being forced into such a humiliating predicament, the poor lad turned as red as a fire truck as inquisitive fingers tugged at his curly pigtails and plucked at the flimsy, flippy apron. He squirmed and he wriggled and he did his best to avoid being touched, though his efforts were in vain; those mean old ladies pulled and tugged at him from so many directions he thought they were going to strip him naked!

“Nana! Please, make them stop!” he begged fretfully. “They’re pulling my hair and they’re going to tear my apron!”

“Mmmmm … your apron, baby doll? Did I hear that right? Did you say that is YOUR apron?” Irma Tully cooed. “Aw, isn’t that cute. My little baby doll loves his pretty apron! Don’t you worry, lover boy. If those ugly old ladies ruin your precious apron Nana will buy you a dozen more that will be even prettier!”

Getting groped and molested was bad enough, but the wagging tongues were just as bad. The instant his babysitter’s friends saw the dazed and disoriented youngster in his feminine finery, they pounced on him like a pack of hungry cats on a helpless mouse. Who knew that such ordinary looking mature women would be so mean and cruel? If he thought they could act ugly before, he hadn’t seen anything yet!

“Goodness gracious, Irma Tully! How did you ever get this cute little guy to dress up like this? He’s so sweet, I just want to eat him up!”

“My goodness, you can’t be Denise Oliver’s little boy! You’re waaaaay too pretty! Boys can’t be that pretty, can they? You must be a little girl!”

“Oh, that’s no girl. A prissy little sissyboy, perhaps, but most definitely not a girl!”

“Why don’t you come home with me, sweetheart? I’ve got a closet filled with pretty dresses and no one to wear them. We could have soooooooo much fun together!”

As time went on and Samuel helped his babysitter host more and more parties, a disturbing thought occurred to him. With few exceptions the roster of attendees varied widely, which the baffled lad found disturbing; it wasn’t just two or three women who’d seen him at Mrs. Tully’s but two or three dozen or more! The way he figured it, there was a host of old ladies out in the world who had seen him in his birthday suit, maybe as many as a hundred!

Geez, that means one of them probably knows somebody I know, he thought to himself. And with my luck, they’ve probably told them all about me and Mrs. Tully! I am so screwed ….

Well, it may have not been a hundred who’d seen our hero’s bare bottom, but Samuel’s theory proved in part to be true. On occasion he would bump into one of Mrs. Tully’s lady friends while shopping with his mother or at a school event or church function. While pleasantries would be exchanged and introductions would be made – “How are you, Samuel? Oh my, I don’t believe I’ve met your mother!” – these cunning, wiley women never said anything that gave away the blushing boy’s shameful secret; though the knowing winks and smirking smiles were enough to cause him to tremble all over and go weak in the knees with shame.

Holy crap, he would think whenever one of these chance meetings took place. It’s like everybody in town has seen me naked! I sure hope my mom never finds out about this! Or any of my friends or my teachers ….

“That would really, really bad,” he often told himself. “Really, really bad ….”

***

All of these thoughts and more raced through Samuel Oliver’s mind as he stood on the steps of his babysitter’s house that fateful Halloween night. The memory of being bare bottomed in a room filled with old ladies in fancy dresses was not his favorite; neither was the recollection of all the slaps across the face and brutal spankings he’d endured since he first started staying with the evil Mrs. Tully.

Oddly enough, Samuel’s body seemed to find a bit of pleasure in those awful memories; his penis was still at full erection and it tingled like crazy, driving the youngster to distraction! Funny, how that small, otherwise insignificant organ was always causing him confusion, growing and shrinking and growing stiff again at the most inopportune times. It was as though it had a mind of its own and it was deliberately trying to make his life as difficult as possible.

Stupid wiener, Samuel thought to himself. Sometimes I wish I didn’t even have the dumb thing!

Gritting his teeth, the frustrated lad listened to the murmuring voices at the bottom of the staris and he steeled himself for whatever might happen next.

“He’s coming … he’s coming … I can see him now … he’ll be here soon … he’s coming ….”

I can do this, the anxious seventh grader thought bravely. He nervously shuffled his feet and shrugged his shoulders, setting aflutter the little pink wings attached to his back. I’ll just do what Old Lady Tully says and there won’t be any more spankings. I can do that. I mean, it’s just gonna be some dumb old ladies, right? Who cares if they see me looking like a stupid sissy as long as nobody else does!

“He’ll be here soon … he’s coming ….”

Unfortunately, Samuel’s courage was fleeting. Despite his efforts to pull through, the spooky darkness and eerie noises that lay before him was overwhelming. His babysitter’s house, once brightly lit and comfortably homey, had been transmogrified into a dark, creepy cavernous tomb sparsely illuminated by flickering candles and glowing jack o’lanterns scattered hither and thither.

The faux angel hugged his unclothed body, fighting a shiver that went from the back of his neck to the base of his spine. He didn’t like what was happening. Not. At. All. The night was getting way too frightening, even for the most ardent trick or treater. Halloween was supposed to be fun and exciting scary, not creepy weird scary. Looking down into the abyss below, with ghostly shadows moving in between the shimmering candlelight, it was hard to tell fun fantasy from disturbing reality. The longer he hesitated the more our young hero felt his nerves getting the better of him; he really did not want to face the unknown ... the spooky, sinister darkness ... especially in his birthday suit.

I should be used to this kind of stuff by now, he thought silently. I shouldn’t be afraid of being naked, not after all I’ve been through. And I shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. I’m usually not scared of those things, but this is different. This is crazy scary! I mean, this is way too much like a real haunted house. Those creepy voices … the spooky shadows and weird noises … all too real. Maybe … just maybe … I should find someplace to hide ….

“He’s coming … I see him … he’s coming ….”

The frightened lad was about to turn and make a hasty retreat when something – or someone – touched his bare shoulder; he would have screamed out loud were it not for his babysitter’s warm, strong hand slipping over his mouth and nose, cutting off his cry … and his air supply.

“Don’t run off, angel,” Mrs. Tully’s sarcastically sweet, not-so-reassuring voice whispered in his ear. “You’re almost there. All you have to do is go down those steps and you’ll get a wonderful surprise. You don’t want to disappoint your audience, do you? Or perhaps your pretty bottom would prefer another session with Nana’s hairbrush?”

The anxious boy shook his head. He certainly wasn’t eager to meet his alleged audience, whoever that might be. On the other hand, he absolutely did not want anything to do with Old Lady Tully’s infernal hairbrush!

“Mmmmph!” the helpless youth mumbled under his babysitter’s powerful, smothering hug. “Uh-uh! Mmmmmmph! Uh-uh!”

Samuel felt the warm hand suddenly disappear and he sucked in as much air as he could to fill his lungs. He hated being smothered like that, almost as much as he hated getting his butt heated up with that stupid hairbrush!

“I’m sorry, Nana,” he whispered. “I can’t help it, but I … I’m scared. It’s really creepy with the lights out.”

He cringed to hear the bosomy bully emit a very witch-like cackle. “Hmmm … there’s nothing to be scared of, baby doll,” the old woman cooed. “It’s Halloween, you big silly! Anything that happens in Nana’s house is all in good fun. I promise! Have I ever let anything bad happen to you? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel blinked. Did she ever let anything bad happen to him?! Was she kidding?! When did she ever NOT let something bad happen to him???!!! As far as he was concerned everything she did was bad for him!

“Now go on, baby doll,” the witchy woman whispered a bit too loudly as she pushed him down one step, then a second. “You know what to do. Just go down the stairs … and get your wonderful surprise ….”

Samuel nodded, though be it reluctantly. Maybe, just maybe … it won’t be all that bad, the flustered boy told himself as he resumed his slow march down the staircase. It’s probably just that stupid old Mrs. Haggard and another couple of other stupid old ladies. Yeah, that’s all it is. Okay, maybe it’s three or four of them. It doesn’t matter. It won’t be so bad.

The naked lad sighed as he thought about what was in store for him. Yeah, I’ll just have to put up with some teasing and smart aleck talk … I’ll get all embarrassed and they’ll probably make me feel bad, but it will be a heck of a lot better than another spanking with that danged hairbrush!

Samuel frowned in the darkness. Why did my stupid mom make me stay here this weekend? This really sucks! I really wish she’d either let me stay home by myself ... or maybe let me go stay with Dad.

And so it was with those thoughts that our little naked twelve year old hero moved silently and carefully, step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat, down the creepy old stairs in Irma Tully’s creepy old house … not knowing exactly what horrible fate awaited him at the bottom; whatever it was, he did know that it was most likely not going to be very much fun.

Not fun for me, anyway, he thought sadly. Not any fun for me at all ….

Samuel eventually arrived at the landing where he had to turn right and go just a few more steps to the bottom. The sensation of the cold hardwood floor against his bare feet sent a chill over his naked body. Just a few more steps, face his babysitter’s friends and get it all over with. That’s all there was to it … just get it all over wi- ….

That’s when the lights suddenly came on; every lamp, lantern and light in the house, including the stairs, flashed on, illuminating the naked child and his audience. Blinded by the intense glare, Samuel was stunned to hear an eruption of feminine laughter and giggles, followed by a chorus of ladies’ voices cry out in unison:

“Happy Halloween, Samuel Oliver! Happy Halloween!”

The surprised lad blinked his eyes and looked around. He could not believe what he saw! The room – no, the whole house, it seemed – was filled with, of all things, witches!

Witches? I mean, really … WITCHES???!!!

Oh yes, they were witches, all right, witches and hags and sorceresses and crones and harpies of all types and descriptions … and they seemed to fill Mrs. Tully’s house. They were many and they were loud and – judging from the cackles and catcalls they produced – they were all so very glad to see the nude youngster on the staircase.

“Happy Halloween, Samuel Oliver! Happy Halloween!” the witches screeched over and over. “Happy Halloween! Happy Halloween!”

This is crazy, Samuel thought to himself. He looked about the room and shuddered at the sight of his guests. Everywhere he looked … everywhere he turned … so many witches ... too many witches ... so scary ... too scary ....

“Happy Halloween, Samuel Oliver! Happy Halloween!”

The confused child lifted his eyes up toward his babysitter’s face. He had hoped to find some sign of safety or comfort, but her smug, jubilant expression told him there was no relief, nor escape, in his near future.

“Happy Halloween, baby doll,” the smirking babysitter said sweetly. “You should see the look on your face. We surprised you, didn’t we? Hmm? Hmmm? Oh yes, I can see it in your eyes! I can already tell you’re already having the best time ever!”

I don’t think so, Samuel thought ruefully. He glanced down at his naked body and then back up at the host of black garbed women looking up at him.

Yeah, I look pretty stupid … and there’s so many of them. I’m pretty sure I am NOT going to have a good time.

The scene that surrounded the bemused boy may have seemed a dream, but to Samuel it was a living nightmare. His ghastly admirers were varied and many. They came in all sizes and shapes, short, tall, fat, skinny, young and old. They couldn’t be real witches, of course – well, he certainly hoped they weren’t! – but they sure looked that way; each and every one wore some sort of witch’s costume, black dresses and frocks and gowns with shawls and scarves and capes … of every style and size and incarnation imaginable. Adding to the stunning spectacle, each “witch” also had on a pointed witch’s hat similar to the one Mrs. Tully wore; again, like the variety of dresses and gowns and accessories, some of the hats were tall, others were small … some were as wide as their owners, if not wider. It was a bizarre sight, not unlike one from a storybook or a Hollywood movie.

Adding to the grotesqueness of the scene, the old hags’ faces were scary and horrible and in some cases just creepy and even weirdly funny. Some were green, some were gray and others with varying flesh tones of every color and condition; there were long crooked noses and pointed chins, rotted teeth and wormlike lips galore; warts and moles with hair and bleeding sores added witchy realism to their complexions. Some were so gross, so horrible in their details, the naked boy had trouble looking away; as much as he disliked their ugly noses and drooling lips and leering eyes, he just could not stop staring at them!

The scene would have been an interesting if not fascinating one had poor Samuel not been naked and the center of the coven’s enthusiastic attention. Beset by the hoard of ugly, cackling creatures before him, the dazed and defenseless child looked down at his fat, pink body and he trembled in fear.

Oh gosh, he thought as he stared down at the bizarre cast of characters. They all look so scary and I … I look so silly … and weak … and naked! What’s going to happen to me? Do they have to keep looking at me like that? Oh geez … I think I’m gonna be sick!

Indeed, a nauseating feeling arose in Samuel’s gut as he reflected on the fact that he pondered his position as the soul naked person – not to mention the only boy – in the room. The only thing he wore was that silly, useless pair of pink feathered wings in the middle of his back; it did absolutely nothing to conceal his modesty and, in fact, only added to the infantile image he presented. Indeed, his pale, plump form was foolish and laughable in contrast with the creepy members of the morbid coven that stood watching and waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

Samuel bit his lip and thought about his situation. There had to be at least a dozen costumed witches – before the night was over he would count thirteen, the exact number in a coven and most certainly an unlucky number for him – and they were all cackling and laughing and staring and pointing in his direction. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide … and no one to help him escape the nightmare before him. The anxious lad was so stressed by the gleeful, hungry eyes that looked up toward him that he felt dizzy and giddy with shame.

“Yikes,” he whispered quietly. “I didn’t think there would be so many. Not this many. This … this is going to be bad. Really, really bad.”

Out of modesty Samuel put his hands over his erect penis – why was it still sticking out like that, anyway? – for what little good that did him; the futile gesture only triggered another ripple of laughter among the amused women, along with a flurry of finger pointing and comments.

“Oh, how cute! It acts like it’s embarrassed!” snorted a short, plump witch at the bottom of the steps. Samuel noted with disgust that her face had hungry, piggish features. “The poor little thing … so sweet … so pretty … is pretending to be bashful. How adorable!”

“How pathetic,” jeered another; her face was drawn and pinched and oh, so ugly, giving her a most disapproving, shrew-like expression. “Why bother to cover itself? The little tease is just acting modest! Look at that pathetic, self-indulgent little face … he enjoys showing off his naked body to us all. See the smile on his face! That’s the face of a flirt and a tease if I ever saw one! He should be ashamed, the little tease!”

Samuel gritted his teeth and shook his head. He wasn’t smiling … or at least he didn’t think he was. Why would she say that? He wasn’t having fun … he wasn’t … teasing anybody. He was scared to death! Why would that ugly old witch say things like that?

A third voice – hidden behind a gross countenance that looked more like a skeleton than a witch – was more mocking than the first two. “It doesn’t have much to be proud of, if you ask me. That little bit of meat and that ridiculous pouch of flesh between its legs isn’t worth looking at. All they do is cause trouble! They should be cut off, they’re so small and useless!”

A wave of malicious laughter swirled about the room and pointed hats bobbed as the host of witches all nodded in agreement. A dozen more comments hit the blushing seventh grader hard; some were sarcastic, others were ugly, all were demeaning and cruel in their own way.

“The little tease!” a creepy voice called out. “Showing off his little bits … flirting with us all … it should be ashamed!”

“Cut them off! Cut them off!” the coven chanted. “Cut them off! Cut them off!”

Samuel was confused and scared. He noted with alarm how everyone in the room reacted as though showing up naked on Halloween night was his idea, that he was the one who chose to wear only his birthday suit. He wanted to shout back at them, “This isn’t my fault! I didn’t want to do this! Old Lady Tully made me look like this!” but before he could take a breath he felt something grab his wrists and twist them up behind his back.

“Nuh-uh-uh, baby doll,” a stern voice whispered in his ear. “Hands go either at our side or behind us. No touching our little wee-wee, remember? Unless you want Nana Witchy Poo to give you another spanking!”

The surprised lad blinked as he realized his adopted grandmother was standing next to him. Muscle memory kicked in and he put his hands behind his back, clasping them together and striking a naïve, charming pose that triggered a ripple of approving murmurs and chuckles amongst the peculiar audience below.   Like everything else that happened that day, the reaction to his stiff penis was as weird as it was terrifying!

“Oooo, see how it sticks out!” one of the witches hissed. “I told you he was a flirt … a flirt and a tease! He’s so rude, the little imp! A spoiled brat if there ever was one!”

“He acts all shy and innocent, but he’s having more fun than he pretends!” cried another. “He pretends to be bashful, but see how he stands there posing for us, pointing his ugly little prick at us? He’s not so innocent! He’s a naughty little liar!”

“Liar! Liar!” chanted the witches. “You can’t fool us, nasty boy, naughty boy! You’re a liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!”

Please let this be over soon, Samuel prayed silently. He thought about the awkward times he spent standing around naked in front of his babysitter’s lady friends with his stupid penis showing. If only he could hold out for the next little while, everything would be all right, he thought. Just a little while longer ….

Please let this be over soon … please, oh please … let this be over soon ….

A loud, familiar voice suddenly broke the nude child’s reverie and brought him back to the harsh reality of the moment.

“Happy Halloween, everyone! Happy Halloween!” cried Mrs. Tully. “Happy Halloween! Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween!” replied the crowd of enthusiastic women. “Happy Halloween!”

Samuel blinked as he watched Mrs. Tully begin addressing the crowd of costumed witches as though she was the emcee of some macabre television program.

“I want to thank all of my friends for showing up on this important occasion,” the gloating babysitter announced. “It is always wonderful when we get together for our little parties, especially on All Hallow’s Eve.”

A hum of enthusiastic approval swept through the crowd of costumed women. Samuel noted with a rueful smile how stupid they looked in those tall pointed hats and bizarre, gross faces. Well, they might have looked stupid if he had been wearing clothes; at that moment they constituted the scariest sight he had ever seen in his young life!

The obese Mrs. Tully waved to her friends and continued her peculiar speech. “Tonight is especially important to me as I have a special guest I want you all to meet. Some of you have obviously already made his acquaintance over the summer and others have no doubt heard me brag on him, but tonight I wanted everyone to have the opportunity to become familiar with my new grandson, a perfect little angel,” – the proud babysitter let loose a girlish giggle at her little joke – “and my precious, sweet and lovely baby doll … Samuel David Oliverrrrrr!”

There was a round of ghoulish applause and even a few cackles and shrieks, all of which struck Samuel at his very core; the sight of so many eerie faces watching him, seeing him naked and clapping their hands and acting so happy to see him was … unreal? Unnerving? Unnatural? Unbelievable? Unforgettable, perhaps? Or maybe all of those put together. Yeah, that was it. It was all of those things … and more.

One more word applied, needless to say: unhappy. That was how Samuel felt about how things were going for him. He was one very unhappy boy, indeed.

This just awful, the shaken lad lamented. He looked down again at his unclothed body, his weak arms, his swollen nipples, his chubby belly … and the annoyingly erect penis that continued to protrude from between his plump, girlish thighs. Biting his lip, he fought the temptation to put his hand over the pink shiny tip and hide his shame from the leering eyes below.

This is awful. Just awful! Now not only does everyone here know what I look like with no clothes on, they know who I am. They … they even know my middle name!

Why did Mrs. Tully do that? Why would she do that???!!!

Poor Samuel. He had dreams – well, nightmares, actually – like this, where he was presented in the nude to large crowds of people, sometimes at school, sometimes in another public forum like church or at the mall. Oh sure, we all have that dream at one time or another, but in his case they were particularly realistic and all too frequent.

The shivering lad also remembered other nightmares where he was drug naked through a haunted house by dark, sinister creatures … well, not unlike the ones facing him now. None of those fantasies were fun. Whatever the format, they never ended well for him. Countless numbers of eyes and wagging tongues, mostly female, would devour him, stare at his nakedness and mock him and spread rumors and gossip and demean him. Tiny hands and teeth would tickle and irritate his skin and nibble and nip at him in the most sensitive of places. Oh, how he’d struggle and fight to free himself, straining against the wicked, curious creatures and their wicked, curious tricks and manners, but he could never get free; he would remain trapped and cursed to spend all his time being examined and celebrated by an endless audience of leering creatures, as if he was a living sculpture or some other delicious, precious work of fleshy, touchable art.

And now it was all coming true. Standing on the staircase landing above the crowd of jubilant costumed females below, a blushing Samuel Oliver was paraded about on display without any clothes or way to hide himself, all for the amusement of his evil grandmother and her ghoulish friends. It was a terribly thrilling, degrading feeling. His heart raced and his face burned bright red and his whole body trembled; the urge to go to the bathroom once again hit his stomach, which only made things worse. Despite all of his earlier misgivings, he never really thought he would actually be part of such a horrible scene; but now … it seemed inevitable!

The bosomy matron tilted the naked boy’s face up and leaned in to give him a little kiss on the lips. “Be nice to my guests, baby doll,” she said with a girlish giggle. “You want everyone to see just what a pretty little angel you are, don’t you? Let them have their fun. Unless you want another session with Nana’s pretty paddle.”

Against his better judgment, a humble Samuel stepped forward and stood awkwardly for his adoring, otherworldly audience. A member of the audience may have thought he was being proud, vain even, as he posed onstage without so much as a stitch of clothing, tiptoeing about like an angelic, heavenly figure. The fact was, of course, the naked boy was ashamed, nearly terrified out of his wits; he hated showing off his pudgy body to these strange women, but he would do anything to avoid getting another spanking!

“Turn around, baby doll,” urged Mrs. Tully. “Let my pretty friends see your sweet little bottom while you’re up there. Come on, my little sissy … don’t get shy on me now!”

Samuel did as he was told. He slowly turned about, just once, to please his grandmother and hopefully avoid a spanking in the process. But that didn’t satisfy her; he was instructed to do it again and again, only more slowly and with a bit of grace.

“That’s it, nice and slow. Now, raise up your arms and hold your hands out wide, you know, like you’re flying. You’re an angel, after all, baby doll. Have fun with it. Show Nana’s friends what you have!”

Whispers and murmurs of approval filled the room as Samuel held out his arms and obeyed his babysitter’s command. The blushing boy looked up at the ceiling in shame … and prayed that if there was a god in heaven, his little pink wings would be given the power of flight so he could flee this most awful, terrible situation.

Please, oh please oh please oh puh-leeeeeeasssssse ….

But Samuel didn’t fly away, needless to say. Instead, he did as he was told and continued to turn about several times, again and again, allowing his insatiable audience to admire him and laugh and enjoy the view in accordance with his babysitter’s instructions. The reaction of the crowd of costumed witches was a mixture of appreciative laughter and teasing comments.

“Ooooo, someone really has been a naughty sissy,” hissed one of the wraiths. “That red bottom gives it away! That’s my favorite color!”

The coven chattered and cackled in unanimous agreement.

Another hooted and cried out, “He’s a pretty one, he is! I think I’ll take him home and let my cats play with him!”

Again, the group let loose a mutual shriek of approval.

“He may be pretty, but he’s still a clumsy, useless boy,” jeered yet another. “It will take more than a few lessons before he makes a pretty ballerina ….”

“Oooooo, look at his pretty-pretty wings,” still another voice teased. “A lot of good they’ll do him tonight! They’re almost as useless as that silly little thing sticking out from between his legs!”

The house filled with wave upon wave of creepy cackles and lurid laughter. Samuel was so ashamed, he felt sick; even worse, a pang deep in his belly signaled the repeated need to go to the bathroom.

“All right, that’s enough, baby doll,” the mischievous Mrs. Tully ordered. “Now, hands behind your back … that’s it … you just stand there and look pretty for a moment. We want everyone to get a good look at you, don’t we? Such a good boy … such a pretty boy …. Isn’t this the most fun you’ve ever had in your life?”

No, this wasn’t the most fun Samuel ever had. Far from it. This was a nightmare come true. The boy’s mind was such a jumble he couldn’t imagine what fun might be at that point; he could barely think straight about anything. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced himself to look at the gathering of witches and see if he could recognize anyone among the ugly faces. He didn’t know who or what to expect, only that he prayed that his mother wasn’t present; that would be the most humiliating thing imaginable!

Oh God, I hope Mrs. Tully didn’t invite my mom, too, he thought. If she saw me like this … looking like this … in front of all these old ladies … these ugly old witches … she’d never let me forget it!

The flustered lad shivered as he pictured his mother standing in the middle of the crowd, laughing and jeering along with the ghastly guests. The way she’d been acting lately, it wasn’t all that hard to imagine; taking her cue from that awful Old Lady Tully over that past few months, she’d actually paddled his bare bottom and made him go without clothes for the entire days at a time! If she ever found out about tonight, how he’d gone trick or treating without any pants and showing off his naked butt to a bunch of old ladies, who knew what other measures she might ....

Mrs. Tully was not quite done with him, it seemed. “So, before you step down and join the party, baby doll, why don’t you tell your audience a little bit about yourself.”

Samuel blinked. He looked down at the crowd of masked figures and shivered.

“Um, tell them … about … myself?” he croaked hoarsely.

“Oh, sure. Be a little gentleman,” – the fat woman gave a little laugh, as did several of the costumed ladies – “and tell everyone your name and where you live and where you go to school. You know, things like that.” The bullying babysitter raised an ominous eyebrow. “Feel free to share whatever you like. I’m sure everyone will find anything you say most interesting.”

The naked lad bit his lip. He looked from the smirking Mrs. Tully to the ghastly faces before him. There were so many eyes staring right at him and despite being in disguise, he could see that they were all smiling or leering … as they awaited his response.

“Do I have to, Nana?” he whispered weakly. The raised eyebrow on his babysitter’s face was all the answer he needed; if he didn’t do as he was told, a hairbrush would be applied to his poor aching bottom at any moment. Or perhaps she might even throw him to the coven and who knew what they’d do to him! He put his hands over his privates and bit his lip as he tried to think of a way to bargain his way out of this catastrophe.

“Nuuuuh-uh-uh! Hands either at our side or behind our back,” the buxom bully said with a sing-song voice and a giggle. “That’s right, do as Nana says … like a good little boy. We want everyone to get a good look at your pretty costume, don’t we? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, just as he’d done so many times before. He felt even more exposed that before; in fact, his erect penis seemed to rise even higher now, savoring the attention from so many leering, grotesque faces. He shifted his position, trying to get as comfortable as a twelve year old boy can get standing naked before a crowd of strangers dressed as witches. He coughed, then took a breath … and did the best he could do given the circumstances.

“Um, hi. My, um, m-my n-name is … S-Samuel.” He glanced down at the gloating Mrs. Tully, who nodded encouragingly. “Um, Samuel David Oliver, I mean.”

He paused. He then looked up at his babysitter. She nodded with encouragement.

“Tell everyone where you live, baby doll. You know, in case they ever want to stop by and say hello.”

The shivering boy shook his head … and then nodded.

“I, um … I … I live over in Crestwood, at 223 Maple Avenue with my mom, Denise Oliver. My … m-my parents are … d-d-divorced … and m-my dad, Warren Oliver, he … he l-lives out of s-s-state.”

The anxious boy looked again at his adopted grandmother. She seemed as happy as a little child, silently clapping her hands in excitement and nodding for him to go on.

“Tell everyone where you go to school,” she said in a stage whisper. “And tell them what you want to be when you grow up!”

Samuel sighed and rolled his eyes. This was getting more and more ridiculous by the moment … but what choice did he have?

“I … I go to Lincoln Junior High and my homeroom teacher is Mrs. Campbell.” There was a buzz in the crowd that threw him off a bit. But he took another deep breath and stammered on. “My … my f-favorite subjects are … h-history and s-s-science and … and I want … want to be either a … a s-soldier or an … an astro- … astronaut when I … when I … when I g-g-grow up.”

Samuel felt foolish saying that last part. Heck, he felt foolish saying any of it! But to be naked and feel so vulnerable … in front of such a ghastly audience … and then declare something personal … like his dream of being a soldier and an astronaut – while quite normal under “normal” circumstances – now seemed pretentious and silly … if not futile.

Why did I say that, the naked child fussed silently. That sounded so stupid! Not only do I look stupid, but now they all think I’m stupid … just a stupid little kid ….

Aside from being naked and on display before so many mocking faces, Samuel hated how his whole life was suddenly becoming an open book. Not only did his ghoulish audience know what he looked like without clothes and know what his name was – they even knew his middle name! – but now they also knew where he lived and where he went to school! There was nothing they couldn’t see or know about him; his life was becoming as naked as was his plump, pink body.

Oh gosh, he suddenly thought. What if any of these people actually does what Mrs. Tully said? What if they actually did come by my house to visit? What would my mom think? What would she do? Would she make me go naked in front of them …?

Oh gosh … oh gosh … oh holy crap ….

Samuel felt a chill sweep over him, raising goose-bumps all over his bare skin. The baffled boy felt almost as drained as he did when his babysitter gave him a long enema session, where his bowels and his soul were completely voided and rendered empty; that was one of the most disorienting feelings in the world. And now … standing defenseless before such a bizarre company … feeling just as helpless and hollow … our young hero wondered … what else these strange creatures would find out about him before the night was done!

There were some whispers and mumbling among the witches and Mrs. Tully nodded.

“We have a question from the audience. Tell us, do you have a girlfriend? And if you do, what’s her name? Hmmmmm?” Mrs. Tully did a little dance, looking quite ridiculous in her witch costume. She then turned a winked at the nervous boy. “Oooo, I like that one! I like it a lot! So tell us, baby doll, do you have a girlfriend? Do you? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel felt his face turn red – well, redder, if that was possible. What kind of question was that? He didn’t have a girlfriend! And if he did, he sure as heck wouldn’t tell this group of witchy perverts!

“Um, no ma’am.” Samuel saw a disapproving glare from his babysitter and gritted his teeth. “I mean, no Nana. I don’t … don’t have a … a g-girl f-f-friend.”

The vulnerable child jumped as a shriek of mocking laughter and cackling chatter filled the room. The tall pointed witches’ hats bobbled about as his answer was discussed; he had apparently triggered some sort of weird reaction among the coven and it was scary!

“Awwww … you don’t have g-girl f-f-friend?” Mrs. Tully echoed the word in mockery. “I think somebody is lying. What about that little girl who lives next door? What about her? Hmm … you seem to spend an awful lot of time with that pretty young lady. What’s her name again? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel sighed. He’d been sighing a lot that evening.

“Um, her name is Marlene. Marlene Miller. But she’s … she’s not my … g-girlfriend.”

Mrs. Tully licked her lips and winked. “No? She isn’t? Are you certain about that?”

The frustrated child shook his head. “Um, n-no Nana. She’s just … just a girl … who’s … who’s sort of a friend … I guess.”

A gust of giggles and snickers went through the room like an autumn breeze. Samuel sensed a chill as he saw the delight in the witches’ gross faces. He wasn’t sure what he felt or was supposed to feel. All he knew was he was totally naked in front of a bunch of old ladies and being asked a bunch of stupid questions about some stupid girl! It was like some demented, twisted torture of some sort … and it seemed like it was never going to end.

The questioning went on for an excruciatingly length of time. Samuel felt like he was being interrogated for hours about his “girlfriend,” school, his parents and all aspects of his personal life. Somebody had the audacity to ask if he had a boyfriend, while another followed up with “Tell us about all of the boys you’ve kissed!” Those last two made him so mad, he got tears in his eyes and he practically cried as he whispered his denial to each.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” he squeaked. “And I haven’t kissed any boys! That’s so gross! Ew! That’s nasty!"

"But you’re so pretty," one of the witches called out. "The other boys surely want to kiss someone as pretty as you!"

“He’s a liar,” cackled another. “He’s a liar and a tease! His words say ‘no’ but his body says ‘yes!’ All you have to do is look at that silly little twig sprouting out at us to see that he lies!”

“Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!” shouted one of the shorter witches. “Haha! And he doesn’t even have any pants!”

“Liar! Liar!” echoed the coven. “Liar! Liar!”

Samuel rolled his eyes and wiped them once again, which didn’t do much good as his hands and his arms were covered in tears and he just ended up smearing them around. Exhausted and demoralized, he prayed for this nightmare to end. But it didn’t. In fact, it seemed to only get worse.

The question and answer session finally over, Mrs. Tully prodded Samuel to step down from the landing and join their guests. The weary boy apparently lingered a bit too long for his grandmother’s liking and she gave him a playful shove against his naked shoulders; losing his balance, the startled child literally fell from the steps into the eager crowd of costumed witches below!

“Oh my, it looks like my pretty angel can’t wait to meet his adoring audience,” the mischievous matron said with a titter. “Don’t be rude, baby doll. I’m sure they want to meet you, too!”

“Nana! Help me!” Samuel cried as a dozen eager hands grabbed at his nude body, catching him before he hit the floor. “Nanaaaaa! Help … meeeeeee!”

The frightened boy couldn’t help but panic; you would, too, if you’d been in his position! It felt weird enough just to be naked in the midst of such ghastly, gruesome hags, but the terrified seventh grader was not prepared for the host of greedy hands and fingers that grabbed and groped and pawed and pinched every exposed inch of his exposed skin. The giggling, cackling witches cruelly tugged on his curly blond hair and they tweaked his pink cheeks and put their hands his bare shoulders and arms; they ran their fingers up and down his naked back and over his pudgy belly; they rudely nipped at his tender nipples and squeezed his plump breasts; they even allowed themselves to reach down and fondle his bare bottom.

“No! Stop it! Let me go!” shouted the angry boy. “You can’t do this to m- ….”

A pair of hands suddenly covered his mouth and pinched his nose, muffling any further protest. Samuel tried to free himself, but there were too many hands, too many witches, to fight.

“Nan- … *gasp!* … Nana! Mmmmph!” was all he could get out and that took almost all of his strength.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. At one point he felt himself float from the floor, just like in one of his dreams; his feet left the floor and his body literally went horizontal, supported by a dozen pairs of hands gripping his arms and legs and torso. He writhed and he wiggled and he wriggled with all his strength, but his struggle was in vain.

“EEEEEEEE!!!” he cried through cruel hands and fingers. “MMMMMPH!!!!”

Then the tickling began. It started with his sides, as playful fingertips flitted and flirted across his bare ribs and waistline, trailing up and down his hips and making their way across his bare bum. They flicked his stiff nipples and poked his exposed belly button; they crawled under his neck and around his throat; and they even pinched his nose and lingered over his long eyelashes. It took all of his energy to fight and pull and try to escape, but his efforts were all in vain. The best he could do was try not to suffocate and hope he survived this bizarre torture.

The panicked youngster tried to cry out, he really did, but faithful hands pressing against his mouth and nose prevented much more than the occasional “mmmmph!” and cry for help to escape. He gave up on trying to beg for mercy and concentrate instead on simply breathing; it was all he could do to get air through his nose and fight to stay conscious.   Not that it did him much good.

To Samuel’s regret, things suddenly became really serious. The beleaguered boy felt his legs being forcibly spread wide apart, exposing his prepubescent penis and balls and everything underneath to whoever wanted to see them. All of the hands that weren’t busy tickling his upper body went into action down below; tickling fingertips and nails trailed up and down the inner region of his thighs, driving him crazy with distraction; they began clawing and scratching at the soles of his feet, alternating from cruel and painful to as light as a feather; the rudest of hands, of course, crept between his legs and stroked his pink penis and plucked at his balls! The combination of pain and pleasure was so great, so immense, our young hero could not help but laugh and cry and giggle and sob all at the same time – a mean feat, considering the limited amount of air getting through to his lungs.

“Isn’t this fun, baby doll!” the bullying babysitter cried gleefully. “Everyone is having such a wonderful time. I bet you didn’t know you were so popular, did you?”

“It’s not fun!” the naked child tried to squeal. “Not for me! Not for me!” His words weren’t heard, though; the muffling hands reduced his cries to a series of desperate gasps and squeaks, which caused his morbid audience to cackle aloud with delight and joy.

The struggle went on for several minutes, long enough for the flustered boy to be passed around the coven; everyone had an opportunity to caress him from head to toe and nary a curve nor crevice of his naked figure remained molested! He was horrified to be treated like a mere object, but a part of him found the experience exhilarating as evidenced by the turgid organ between his legs that literally pointed toward the ceiling!

“Please … *gasp!* … let me go!” Samuel squeaked weakly through the spiteful fingers. “Please … *gasp!* … let me … *gasp!* … GOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

After a few minutes the mauling ceased and Samuel Oliver was left standing alone in the middle of a circle made up of giggling, whispering women. With weak knees and trembling legs, he looked up at his grandmother, grateful to have survived this latest mortifying ordeal.

“That was just awful,” the exhausted child whispered to himself. “I sure hope they don’t do that again!”

The one good thing – if you can call it that – about being so near to the witches was that the mystery of the their identities was finally solved! Up close the breathless boy could see for himself that what he erroneously thought were ugly faces and hideous countenances turned out to be – ta-dah! – mere masks! It’s true: each guest wore a translucent plastic veneer that allowed their real face to be partially seen; the combination of an ugly witch face with ugly teeth and moles and warts laying over their own features was almost as eerie and creepy up close as they were viewed from a distance. At point blank range he could tell they were only masks and not the real thing.

Surprised but not surprised, Samuel noted that the coven was made up of Old Lady Tully’s friends and acquaintances, all of whom he’d met at the various little social gatherings his babysitter held in her home during his visits; ironically, this was not the first time they had seen him in his birthday suit. It amazed the weary child that these seemingly normal old ladies and women would go so far as to dress up in such elaborate costumes; after a moment of thought, however, he ruefully conceded that it only made sense, considering how he’d often thought of them all as mean old witches to begin with.

There was one exception to Samuel’s observation regarding the masks: the dreaded Mrs. Gertrude Haggard, his babysitter’s best friend. Samuel immediately recognized the wicked old woman as she emerged from the crowd of creepy hags. To his surprise he noted that she did not wear anything over her face; later he would find that fact funny, but at that moment it almost scared him.

This is weird, the frowning boy thought to himself. I knew she was ugly, but … wow … she’s ugly enough to be a stupid old witch without a mask. Holy crap … she was probably born looking that way!

“So, little brat, you think you’re cute, don’t you?” Mrs. Haggard snapped. She cast a smarmy, arrogant gaze over the bashful boy’s body. “Prancing about like a shameless tease, flirting with your grandmother’s lady friends and having so much fun showing off your little nasty parts. You should be ashamed, you vain, rude little thing. But I shouldn’t be so surprised. You look ridiculous, primping and preening and thinking so much of yourself. You pathetic, useless little brat ….”

Samuel blinked. He didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t this ugly old woman realize that none of this was his idea? That he was the victim here, not the perpetrator? He glanced at Mrs. Tully, who had the biggest, happiest smile on her face. She was obviously enjoying his awkward predicament. Instead of offering any advice, she just gave him a wink and nodded her head.

“Go on, baby doll. Don’t be rude. It’s called conversation. Gertrude said something to you, now you say something in return, please. Before you get another warning spanking.”

“Oh yes, ‘baby doll,’” sneered the hateful Mrs. Haggard. “Do say something. Or better yet don’t. I think I’d like to see you get that fat little butt beat!”

Samuel gritted his teeth. Oh, how he hated whenever that old witch talked mean to him. He had to be careful, however; very often she got her wish. He knew he had to proceed with caution or else risk raising the wrath of the costumed guests that filled his grandmother’s parlor.

The nude youngster clutched his arms over his body and shivered. He thought for a moment, then steeled himself.

“Um, weeeelllllll… I’m sorry if you … you … don’t like the way … I look. But my … my Nana thinks I’m cute. Don’t you, Nana?”

Well, that response garnered the most unexpected reaction, indeed! To the bewildered boy’s surprise, the entire room erupted with laughter, ghastly, cackling witch-like laughter, of course, but laughter none the same. There were chuckles and guffaws and snorts and hee-haws galore. Even Mrs. Tully was taken by Samuel’s response, giggling like an overgrown schoolgirl and delighting in the joyful noise that filled the room.

"Oh yes, you are so cute, baby doll," the jolly babysitter sang happily. "You are the most precious little thing in the world"

For an instant the young angel-boy thought he had finally achieved a victory, a small victory, but a victory just the same. Rather than be the butt of a joke, the object of mockery, he felt elevated, vindicated even … as admiring eyes and mirthful smiles turned toward him. For a moment he didn’t mind being naked in front of all those old ladies and he didn’t even care that his vexing wiener was still erect, standing bravely out for all to see. For a fleeting few seconds he was almost proud of himself and the little win he had over the awful Mrs. Gertrude Haggard.

SLAPPP!!!

Samuel’s eyes crossed and he felt the shock of Mrs. Haggard’s hand as it hit him hard on his cheek full force and with vengeful purpose. Then he saw her face. That horrible, ugly, ancient, evil witch’s face. As warm and joyful as he felt in that precious, short-lived while, he could tell that he’d made a terrible, horrible mistake. One that would ruin his evening and turn his life upside down. Or at least for the next few minutes.

SLAPPP!!!

A second blow across his other cheek caught him just as he was about to start crying. Breathless and in shock, his eyes burned with tears and snot dripped from his nose. He was about to reach toward his babysitter for support when a third SLAPPP!!! nearly knocked him on his bare bottom.

“You … little … brat,” the old witch growled, just like an angry cat. “You rude, ugly spoiled little runt … you nasty little tease … you dirty little flirt! How dare you talk to me like that! How dare you speak like that to anyone! How dare you flaunt your fat, worthless little bottom about … and that pitiful little bit of gristle between your legs … saying ‘Look at me, everyone! Look at meeeee!’ and acting like such a dirty, filthy little freak! And then for you to speak back to your elders in such a rude, ill-mannered and wicked way! You, you dirty little imp, need a severe lesson in manners …

“… And I am just the one to do it!”

Before Samuel could react his hated nemesis grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the sofa. The next thing he knew his naked bottom was pointed straight toward the ceiling and his legs were forcibly spread wide apart, leaving him in the most vulnerable, degrading position he could imagine!

“Nooo … please … not this … not again …,” he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. "Everybody can see my butthole! Please ... don’t let them look at me ...."

The helpless lad looked up at Mrs. Tully to no avail; a delightful smile radiated from the bosomy babysitter’s face and she clapped her hands together hungrily and with great joy. He glanced about the room and saw that the coven of costumed witches had crowded about the sofa, their faces glowing with lustful excitement.

“Please, please … don’t spank me,” he squeaked. “Please … Mrs. Ha- … Mrs. Haggard … not like this, not in front of everybody. I’m sorry … I’m so so sorry … I really am.”

“Oh, you’re sorry all right,” creaked the old woman as she adjusted herself in her seat. “You’re the sorriest child I know. Showing off your private parts and acting like such a smarty pants … such a dirty little flirt. I’ll show you sorry. I’m going to make you sorry you were ever born ….”

SMACK!!!

That first blow to his tender bottom was enough to cause our poor protagonist to shriek out loud in the most excruciating pain imaginable. Remember, he’d already gotten two warning spankings that day from his overenthusiastic babysitter, both with hairbrushes and the most recent only a short while earlier. To be getting yet another beating so soon … and for it to be so powerful, so painful … it was no wonder the unfortunate child was sobbing in agony.

WHACK!!!

“WHAAAAA!!!! … *gasp!* … Please … *gasp!* … NOOOO!!! … *gasp!* … No more … *gasp!* … please don’t … *gasp!* … no more!!!!”

THWACK!!!

“NAAAAANAAAAA!!! … *gasp!* … HEEEEELP … *gasp!* … MEEEEEEEEEEE!!! … *gasp!* …”

Samuel’s eyes filled with salty, burning tears and his nose began running way too soon. Choking and snorting, he looked up to see the evil Mrs. Haggard’s hand as it prepared to deliver yet another blow. To his horror he saw that she held a hairbrush made of dark stained hardwood, broad but not too broad, shaped just right to be applied to a soft, plump upturned bottom. The sobbing boy bit his lip as the brush reached the apex of its arch and began falling toward his burning butt ….

“No … no please … Nana, help me! Help me, please, Nana! Nana! Nanaaaaa! PLEASE HELP MEEEEEE!!!!!”

“No can do, baby doll,” sang the gleeful babysitter. “You were a naughty boy and now you have to take your medicine. Have fun, love … you’re doing a great job!”

SMACK!!!

“AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!”

I won’t bore you with all of the ugly details of Samuel’s punishment at the hands of the legendary Mrs. Haggard, but suffice it to say that the beating he received from the old witch was one of if not the worst in his entire twelve years of existence on this planet. Each blow was drawn out and timed so that the writhing, crying boy could feel at least a minute or so of burning, itching agony before the next was delivered; just as he thought the worst of it was over – SLAPPP!!! – a fresh hit would occur and the tortuous cycle of suffering would start all over again. All in all there had to be at least a dozen hits, perhaps more, though he lost count at five … or was it six? Understandably, each hit caused the youngster to scream and shriek and beg for mercy; but mercy could not be found in the little house at the end of the lane. At least not then … not on All Hallow’s Eve.

But then something even worse happened. Just as he thought his beating was over, Samuel discovered that it was just beginning. The circle of spectators watching his humiliation had formed up in a line alongside the sofa; he watched with disbelief as he found himself being passed off to a strange, grinning woman who bent him over her lap and began slapping away happily and with great gusto!

“WAAAAAH! No, please, no more! No more!” the frantic child cried. “No spanking, please! No spanking … no spanking!”

“Heheheheheeeee!” cackled the old witch as she wailed away on Samuel’s burning butt. Samuel noted through his tears that it was Mrs. Johnston beneath the plastic mask, a lady who went to his grandmother’s church and had played cards with her on many occasions. For an old woman she had the most terrifying smile on her face, one that showed off her bared teeth and gave her a wolfish, almost predatory appearance.

“Go ahead and cry, pretty angel! Cry all you want! Cry cry cry, you little crybaby! The more you cry, the more fun I’m having! And this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks!”

This spanking didn’t last quite as long as the one he got from Mrs. Haggard, but it turned out to be a painful portent of even worse things to come. Samuel Oliver couldn’t believe it as he was then handed off to yet another old witch who in turn began eagerly slapping his poor bottom; and as soon as she was done he was given over to a third … and then a fourth … and so on and on and on. He quickly realized he had been given over to his grandmother’s friends to use and abuse as they saw fit. Bent over lap after lap after lap … the desperate boy was living out his worst nightmare!

What is happening, the panicked boy thought frantically. Why are they doing this to me? Why are they all so mean o me? What did I ever do to deserve any of this?!

“NANA!!! Please … I’ll be good! I promise ….”

SLAPP!!!

“… oh please ….”

WHAPPP!!!

“… this can’t be happening,” he whispered in disbelief. “This can’t ….”

SMACK!!!

“… be real. Please ….”

WHACK!!!

“… don’t let it ….”

CRACK!!!

“… be real ….”

The gauntlet of spankings went on long and slow for nearly an hour, perhaps longer, according to the chime of the clock. It was hard to tell; for Samuel Oliver time blurred, as did the number of smacks and slaps across his poor, tender bottom. Fortunately, none of those hits were nearly as painful or debilitating as the ones applied by the hateful Mrs. Haggard or the deceptively cruel Mrs. Tully – which was good as he might not have survived such a beating! But still, they were bad enough to keep alive the fiery agony in his poor posterior and prolong his misery.

The spankings were as varied as the women who gave them; in addition to Mrs. Johnston there was Mrs. Brubaker and Mrs. Allenby and sweet old Mrs. Bloomfield. Some, like Mrs. Lietchfield, were worse than others; and others, like Mrs. Lacey, gave mere love taps; and still others, like Miss Marsh, administered stern but loving paddlings. A few, Old Lady Krugel and Mrs. Grub in particular, utilized that godawful dreadful hairbrush, but most of the participants preferred bare handed against naked skin.

“I just loooove how plump and smooth his bottom is,” purred Mrs. Lacey as she ran her hand across the squirming boy’s derrière and in between his legs. “How lovely! It’s just like a little baby’s butt! Your Nana is one lucky woman! Oh yes she is! Oh yes she is!”

“Oooo, what fun!” sang Mrs. Bloomfield. Samuel bit his lips as her curious fingers plucked and pinched his tender bruised skin. “I’ve been craving this ever since I saw his pretty little tookus! This is just what the doctor ordered!”

“My oh my, how cute!” cooed Miss Marsh as she spread apart the mortified boy’s cheeks and tickled his winking sphincter. “Irma always has the prettiest ones! I’ve never seen such a pokable, touchable little bum in all my life! Irma, you lucky girl! It’s just not fair!”

Indeed, witch after witch gave Samuel’s plump bottom a first rate review … and enough spankings to last any child a lifetime! The words hurt him almost as much as did the blows to his bottom … well, not really. But they did hurt him; these jovial, happy ladies in their silly costumes and absurd masks demeaned and mocked our naked hero as he squirmed and wriggled on lap after lap, rendering him a blubbering, pitiful mess of tears and snot and quivering pink flesh. As the line shortened the sobbing, gasping preteen prayed that the end of his torment would soon be upon him.

“It … *gasp!* … it … hurts,” he whimpered wistfully.   “Ooooh … *gasp!* … gooossssshhhh … it … *gasp!* … it hurts … *gasp!* … so bad ….”

A tearful Samuel was weakly standing on unsteady feet, with only a couple of witches to go, when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Happy Halloween, Samuel Oliver,” the deep, seductive words sent a sudden shiver down his naked spine. “My, oh my … what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Samuel’s shiny wet eyes went wide with surprise! Looking up, he could see that his next disciplinarian was, of all people, his seventh grade teacher.

“M-M-Mrs. C-Campbell? But … but … wh-what are … are y-you d-d-doing … here …?”

To be continued ….

(End of File)