Trouble With The Boy

"Are you sure you got all of this down Becky," the nicely dressed, middle aged brunette asked.

"Of course Ms. Harris," the eighteen year old babysitter replied.

"All right," Ms. Harris said, "Well little Jack is asleep down in the basement so he shouldn't give you any trouble. I just want someone here to make sure nothing happens, just in case."

Becky nodded.

"Well if anything does happen," Ms. Harris continued, "Just call me at this number."

And with that, she handed the blonde teen a note with her mobile phone number scrawled out on it.

"I will Ms. Harris," Becky replied, "But don't worry about it. Just try and have a nice girl's night out. We'll be fine here!"

"Okay then," Ms. Harris said as she walked out the door, "I'll be back around ten."

"Okay," Becky said waving to her, "Goodbye then."

Almost as soon as Ms. Harris had gotten into her little minivan and backed out of the drive way, there was an ominous clap of thunder, followed by a sudden downpour of rain. Becky hurried up and ran back inside the house. Fortunately, she wasn't very wet, but she still decided to take off her coat, leaving her with only her skimpy little cheerleader outfit.

Now, as one might expect, eighteen year old Becky Anderson was quite a popular girl at the local high school. Blond, intelligent, and with a well-developed chest, she led quite an active social life, albeit one that most adults were completely unaware of. Therefore, after a few minutes had passed, Becky took out her mobile phone and dialed up the latest in her string of boyfriends, one Paul Thomas. The fact that his parents had bought him a car on his eighteenth birthday had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they were seeing each other, or at least, so she had told him.

No sooner had Becky gotten on the phone with Paul, cooing at him in a sweet, playful voice and told him all about how she was babysitting alone in this thunderstorm, than Paul raced out to his car and drove through the rain to meet up with her. He made it to Ms. Harris' house in under fifteen minutes, which was if anything a credit to his pent up teenage hormones. Becky, still clad in her slightly damp cheerleader uniform, was of course already waiting for him.

She had sprawled herself out on the couch and left the door unlocked. Paul practically got an erection as soon as he crossed the threshold.

"Hey," he said as he walked over and sat down on the couch beside her.

"Took you long enough," Becky joked.

"So what do you want to do," Paul asked her.

He just shrugged.

"I don't know," he said, "Maybe take in a scary movie or something."

Paul had only just picked up the remote when Becky scolded him.

"Come on," she exclaimed, "We're at Ms. Harris' house! We can't just order a movie! She'll see it on the bill, and then I'll

never

get another babysitting job again!"

"Too late," Paul replied as he pressed the confirm button, ordering a movie.

"Besides," he continued, "She probably won't even check her cable bill. My parents never do!"

Becky playfully slapped him across the check, to which Paul simply responded by hugging and then kissing her. Paul then reached over and turned off the lights, just for added effect, and then the two young lovers settled in on the couch. The movie was, of course, another one of those generic and utterly forgettable teen slasher movies with some masked killer running around killing people with household appliances. It was utterly cheesy, but also fun.

Just as Paul had hoped, Becky shivered and moved in closer to him during the scary parts. Each time someone got killed, she squeezed his leg and slowly let him come closer. By the end of the movie, he was able to cop a pretty good feel off her perky, well-developed teenage boobs. As the end credits rolled, the two young lovers started to make out.

"You know Becky," he said, "That movie took place on a dark, stormy night... a night just like tonight."

And then he moved into to kiss her on the lips.

"Knock it off," Becky replied.

"I'm just saying," he said as he kissed her neck now, "Doesn't it freak you out a little."

"Nnnoooo," she struggled to whisper out as a wave of passion came through her body.

"Not even a little," he asked.

And with that, there was a clap of thunder. Both Becky and Paul jumped up a little in surprise. Becky soon found herself hugging her boyfriend for safety.

"All right," she sheepishly admitted, "Maybe just a little!"

"Well it's all right," Paul said as he slowly slipped Becky out of her top, "I'm here to protect you."

"Come on Paul," Becky said, "Ms. Harris will be back soon. We don't really have time for this."

"All right," Paul said, "But can we at least do something quick then? Maybe like a blowjob or something."

She sighed.

"Fine," Becky said rolling her eyes.

There was another clap of thunder as Paul dropped his pants and whipped out his rock hard member. Becky decided she may as well take off her top, but before she could even drop to her knees and get the damned thing over with, the power went out.

"Damnit," Becky exclaimed, "The power is out!"

She picked up the phone. There was no signal.

"It's okay," Paul said hopefully, "We can still finish."

"No Paul," Becky exclaimed, "I've got to check on the kid! I haven't even seen him all night. He's probably scared."

"He's probably fine," Paul protested, "You said he was asleep, right? Well he probably just slept right through this whole storm."

"I should really go down and check on him anyway," Becky said as she slipped back into her tight little cheerleader top, "You can have a blowjob later, okay?"

"Fine," Paul said as he slumped back onto the couch, more than a little frustrated by his lack of sex tonight.

Suddenly, there was a loud 'thud' sound from the basement.

"What the hell was that," Paul exclaimed.

"I don't know," Becky said making her way the basement door, "I was just going down to check on the boy. Why don't you see if you can find a flashlight or something."

Becky then opened the door.

"Jack," she asked cautiously, "Jack are you okay down there?"

There was no answer. Only darkness.

She slowly made her way down the stairs, calling out his name several more times. But once again, there was no answer.

"Jack," she said, trying not to trip as she made her way down the stairs.

She heard a groan. A deep groan, in fact, too deep to have come from a child. At first she thought it was some appliance running, like a generator or something. Becky stopped in her tracks. No, it was definitely human.

"Jack," she whispered, "Is that you playing a game on us?"

Now it was growling, more like a wild dog or some other predatory creature. Becky shrieked out in terror, and then turned and ran back up the steps. A dark, shadow figure pursued her upstairs. Naturally, like any horror movie girl, Becky tripped a couple of times, but somehow she still managed to make it up the stairs safely. The dark figure wasn't far behind her.

He... or perhaps

it

chased her through the house. Driven by an instinct to seek out protection, Becky ran towards her boyfriend, who still had his pants down around his ankles and his flaccid dick hanging out. Unfortunately Paul wasn't exactly the ideal action movie hero. He jumped up in surprise, just in time to see the hulking figure bring down a gigantic between his legs. It split his pants in two and just barely missed his manhood. Paul looked up and screamed at the figure, practically falling over backwards on the couch as he ran to escape from the killer.

In the meantime, Becky had already managed to run back past the deranged killer and out the front door. Paul was still trying to struggle back to his feet, while the axe-wielding mad man circled the couch. Another flash of lightning revealed the killer in all his horrific glory. He seemed to be wearing a ratty looking trench coat and a crude plastic mask with a smiley face drawn across it. It sent a shiver down Paul's spine.

After weaving back and forth a few times trying to dodge the killer, Paul finally decided to make a dash for it. Being considerably more nimble than his brutish pursuer, he narrowly slipped past as the serial killer brought his axe down behind him. It tore Paul's shirt a little, but otherwise left him without so much as a scratch.

He bolted through the front door while the killer let out a howl of anger at not getting a chance to claim a victim tonight. Paul jumped into his car and sped out of the driveway, narrowly avoiding crashing into Ms. Harris, who was just getting home while all of this drama unfolded in her house.

"What the hell is going on here," she said angrily as she walked into the house, "Becky? Where the hell are you? Can I not leave you alone for a minute? Kids these days..."

The axe-wielding killer slowly slinked through the shadows, until he was behind the middle aged single mother. Finally, he decided to announce his presence with a bestial roar. Ms. Harris quickly spun around and looked the killer in the face, staring into his cold, soulless eyes...

But instead of screaming, she simply said:

"Oh Jack, my poor baby!"

And with that, she hugged her monstrous son. The colossal serial killer responded by dropping his axe and hugging his loving mother back.

"Did they let you out," she asked, "And unsupervised! I think I'm going to have to have a word with that girl's mother! Imagine leaving a sweet baby like you out all by yourself. How irresponsible of her!"

Hey, even a cold blooded axe-murderer is somebody's son. Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Norman Bates just got a bad rap.