Bully Ch 01 1

He tricks a mom out of her clothes

Brendan asked his mother to talk to James, who was bullying him at school. It would be better if his father spoke to the boy, but he was away on business. His mom was the only hope, and so Brendon explained how to approach the boy.

'Don't shout and rave at him, mom, that won't work. He will just bully me all the more,' Brendan said.

Alicia wondered if it would be best left to her husband. He was used to negotiating, as it was one of his business techniques. Both boys were eighteen, so she was reluctant to get involved.

'I'm not sure, Brendan. I, err, I'm not very good at being, err, you know, assertive. I don't think I can tell him off, or make him stop. We should leave it to your father,' she explained.

'It will be too late then. The sports day is tomorrow, and you promised to come along. He will ruin it for me, if something isn't done,' Brendan told her.

'Are you sure?' Alicia asked again, while trying to squirm out of the confrontation.

'It's better to sweet talk him. Bullying him, or being logical won't work. You can't force him to see sense, mom. You are really good at being nice, everyone says so. He will respond to that, you'll see. Just so long as you try, that's all,' he implored her.

He went on at her until she gave in. He was too much like his father, persuasive and effective when arguing. From her he had a soft streak.

'Alright, what do you want me to do?' she asked.

'Just go to his house, to see his parents. They probably don't know what he's like in school. I expect he'll be all sweetness and light at home. Don't worry, just get me a day off,' Brendan pushed.

'I think I could speak to them,' she hesitantly spoke.

At school she had been bullied, so knew what it was like, and of course protecting her son was important. Deep down she was frightened of confrontation. Not wanting to show the fear, she smiled at her son, and grabbed the car keys.

Agreeing to see the young man at home, seemed like a good idea. His parents could be talked to at the same time, or instead of, leaving the awkward and unpleasant job to them. Although she was unused to putting her foot down, this was an opportunity to show some initiative and determination for once.

After all, he was only a boy, so she could deal with him. A lot had happened since high school, and she was an adult now. She was thirty-six, but eighteen years ago, she had been a young mother. Marrying Harold when she was just eighteen had been necessary. It meant she hadn't a chance to gain experience in the real world. Friends envied her cosseted home life, and it had to be admitted, it was nice and pleasant.

'Hello, James,' Alicia said, trying for a smile.

'Hello, Mrs Lucas. Please, come in,' he said, and gave her a pleasant smile.

Before she could continue, James invited her in and led her to the lounge. She was very nervous now. It was a good guess he knew why she was there. He knew her name, probably from Brendon. He seemed nervous of confronting an adult, and that gave her courage.

'Would you like a coffee?' he asked.

Wanting to exercise her new found assertiveness, she said, yes. On the assertiveness course she was learning to say, no, though that didn't occur to her. When he returned her resolve was renewed, and she was ready to tackle him.

'Where are your parents? I need to talk to them,' she firmly spoke.

'Oh!' she gasped in surprise.

Hot coffee was spilt on her dress, and it stung her legs.

'I'm so sorry, Mrs Lucas,' he fussed, keeping her busy with words and action. 'Are you always accident prone?' he casually asked.

'No, I'm sorry, I didn't grasp the mug properly,' she apologised.

He lifted the hem to mop above her knees with a cool cloth. Being shocked and distracted, she didn't wonder why he had a cloth ready. A gasp of surprise when he lifted the dress left her silently objecting, with lips noiselessly flapping

'You'd better take the dress off and I'll rinse it, before it stains,' he firmly told her.

Guiding her to a spare bedroom, she pulled the dress off, and wrapped a towel around herself. She hesitantly handed him the dress while hiding behind the door.

It wasn't until that moment she realised the consequences of letting him take the dress. She was in a stranger's house, in her underwear. She could hardly drive home in bra and panties. The boy had talked her into this, and she wondered if it had been on purpose. Of course it hadn't been, she was being paranoid. What possible reason could he have for a complicated ruse.

'Are you decent?' he asked.

'Just about,' she answered.

The thin shaky voice surprised her, so she cleared her throat. It made no difference.

'I'll show you the utility room,' he stated.

Following him through the house wearing a small towel, left her feeling embarrassed. If his parents walked in now, what would they think? Working out why she had let him take charge, should have been thought through more carefully. Instead she relied on his good manners, as she usually did with everyone.

'You'll need something to wear, while your clothes are washed. Throw the rest in there with the dress, then I'll bring you clothes to wear, until yours are ready,' he firmly stated.

'That's alright, I'll, err, oh, I see,' she stammered.

Her dress had been soaked, then thrown into the washer. It was in a soggy mess, totally un-wearable.

'My dress! Can it be dried?' she asked.

'No, it will take just as long as the wash cycle. Don't you want me to get you some clothes?' he asked.

'I guess, yes, please,' she politely agreed.

'Then take off the rest and throw them in the washer. Mom doesn't have anything that will go over that underwear. I'll get you something, you just need to be quick, before my parents get home. Come on, move it!' he cajoled her.

Mention of his parents worried her. She had to do something, and leaving like this wasn't an option. Not wanting his parents to see her like this, pushed her panic button. She deftly pulled the bra and panties off, without revealing anything. He had his back turned, so she felt he was trying to be decent.

'You know where the spare bedroom is. Wait there while I fetch something for you to wear,' he said, and pushed her in the right direction.

Alicia was shaking with stress when he walked in. Once dressed, she could decide whether to drive home, or face his parents. The boy had been polite and helpful, as her son had expected. At home the bullying had dropped away to leave a nice young man.

He still had that pushy way about him, and she could see him being a bully in school. To some extent she was pleased he'd pushed her into doing the right thing. The new dress and expensive underwear were saved, due to his quick action. It wasn't something she would have volunteered to do, but it was done now.

Yet another anxious look at the door, and this time he walked back in.

'Thank you, James, I appreciate your help,' she nervously spoke.

He turned his back on her, allowing her to change. About to ask him to leave, she thought it better to quickly pull on the clothes, before his parents arrived. First the panties were pulled up, then the dress was quickly pulled over her head. Trying to spread out the panties to cover down there, she found there was nothing to adjust, that was all the material there was.

'Damn! I can't wear this!' she whispered.

The clothes were awful. Not something a decent woman would choose, but then he was just a boy. He probably just grabbed whatever came to hand.

It was either wrap the towel back around her naked body, or keep the dress. The baggy t-shirt was almost long enough to be a very short dress. The thong left her feeling vulnerable.

'Err, James, is this something your mother wears?' she tentatively asked.

'Can I turn around, Alicia,' he asked.

'Yes, but I'm not sure about this, err, dress,' she said.

'It's one of my sisters. I tried looking through mom's wardrobe, but everything will be miles too big,' he politely explained.

He was standing a little too close to her. It was a little intimidating, especially as she felt so naked.

In Alicia's family everyone was short and finely boned. He was tall and muscular. If his mother was as tall and well muscled, he was right about nothing fitting.

'Does your sister have anything else. This is a bit short. Something more, err, comfortable, err, more coverage, please,' she said, trying not to say the obvious.

Would it be obvious to a boy of eighteen that her breasts were too exposed in the loose garment? If she weren't careful, they would fall out the large arm holes, one side or the other. It was a balancing act. Of course, his younger sister wouldn't have this problem.

'I think you look cute, Alicia. I didn't want to give you something new, as she would go ballistic when she gets home. This is something she used to wear.' he informed her.

'I see. Well, I understand. Perhaps another t-shirt could be found, to wear under this?' she timidly asked.

He put his large paws on her shoulders, gripping them tight, and smiled at her. Being in his hands, she felt very nervous, almost afraid. Wanting to suggest something else to wear, she tried to imagine what a modern girl had in her wardrobe. She licked her lips, and tried to say something. Whatever it was, the idea escaped her. Anyway, her throat was too dry to speak.

'It's only until your clothes are washed and dried. Surely it doesn't matter what you wear. No one will see you, so no problem. Will they need ironing?' he cheerfully asked.

'I guess you're right. That's alright, I won't bother ironing,' she said, on a whispery voice.

'Well, I think you look young and cute, in my sister's old clothes,' he smiled.

'I'm a thirty-six year old woman, err, I err, no longer do cute,' she quietly spoke.

The attempt at reminding him she was a mature woman, an adult, didn't seem to impress him.

'I don't believe your thirty-six. You look much younger. It's your pale clear skin, and you're short, that's what does it. You look real cute,' he said, and gently shook her.

Being manhandled by a boy didn't seem right. Pushing him away, meant letting go of her breasts, and letting them fall out the sides of the dress.

A chant from school came to mind about, finders, keepers. The sudden stupid idea sprang to mind, that if he found her breasts, he could keep them. An image of him mauling her breasts made her choke. He was grinning at her, telling her he found them hanging loose, so they were now his to keep. He owned them, so he could do whatever he wanted with them.

The nonsense was a sign of something. Panic? Hysteria?

'Thank you, I, err, do feel young,' she whispered, with the words tumbling from her mouth unbidden.

Why had she said that? Still holding her shoulders tight, he turned her around to face a mirror.

'It suits you. It's your colour,' he said.

Looking at the pale blue t-shirt dress, she wondered what he meant. Of course, her blue eyes. A string of butterflies winging their way from the hem, up between her breasts and over her shoulder, could be described as cute. It was no wonder his sister didn't wear it anymore.

A nudge of her arm, prevented a large breast falling out the side. It didn't feel appropriate to hold onto them, with arms crossed. Besides, that pose wasn't effective. It just served to hold them up, emphasising them. Pulling at the hem tightened the t-shirt over her bust. In the mirror her nipples were protruding, so she let go of the hem.

'I'm too, err, well, you know. I need something with more, err, more to it,' she pointed out.

'You can wait until your clothes are ready. They won't take long. To make the time go quicker, we'll get that coffee I promised you,' he firmly stated.

Meekly following him to the kitchen, she realised the compliments, and the vulnerable dress, had got to her. The situation combined with his deep commanding voice, had her spellbound. When last had her husband complimented her? He was always in too much of a hurry for much conversation. In bed the only sound between them was his snoring.

'Sit there, and I'll make the coffee. You all right?' he asked.

Sitting on a kitchen chair, she felt how little of her bottom was covered. This was the first time wearing a thong, and it should have been attended to instead of worrying about her breasts. How could she ask a boy for a decent pair of panties?

'No, I'm not sure, err, about this t-shirt,' she started to say.

He planted his hands on her shoulders, from behind this time. He leaned over her, talking right into an ear. The teasing breath overtook her. Her ears had always been sensually sensitive.

'You can always take it off and wait for your things to wash,' he teased.

Words of complaint tried to be said. The audacity of the remark, and the helplessness, combined to choke her.

'You've got nice long hair. It's naturally blond too,' he said, while running a hand through her golden locks.

'Yes, thank you. I'm alright, maybe I should leave,' she whispered on a paper thin voice.

Her legs didn't seem strong enough to lift her off the chair, let alone walk out the kitchen door.

'Let me help you up,' he said.

Afraid of going outside dressed like that, she said, 'It's alright I'll have that coffee, and wait for my clothes,' she said, trying to sound assured, and failing.

His big hands had gripped her under the arms, with finger tips touching her breasts. The sensitivity of them was more than it should have been. Why they were, she pushed out of mind.

'You seem tense,' he observed, and began to deeply massage her back and neck.

He lifted her hands to place them over her breasts, and she gasped. The reason was obvious when he dropped the shoulder straps, to massage her back. He was showing her some decency by preventing the top falling, and exposing her. A big hand came over her shoulder, and she expected it to drop down to grip a breast. When it ran back up to her neck, she nuzzled her cheek against the strong hand.

Quickly recovering, she told herself not to be silly. The coffee was ready and he poured too cups.

'Here, I'll carry them into the lounge. I can't trust you,' he teased.

The commanding tone had her following him before she realised she'd even stood up.

'Sit there,' he said, pointing at the sofa.

Alicia sat as commanded, and sank into the soft cushions. Her legs were raised, showing them off.

'I usually wear high heels,' she said, and wondered at the inane remark.

'You have nice smooth long legs. I bet they look stunning in high heels,' he told her.

Every time she sat down her bare bottom reminded her of that particular exposure. Some people might have been angered, or energised to do something. Alicia withdrew into herself a little each time, and became more passive.

Pulling at the t-shirt, as though trying to stretch it, she tried to cover her thighs, then had to prevent a breast escaping. Handing her a coffee, stopped the continuous fidgeting. Pulling her upper arms together helped keep her breasts from swinging out the sides of the t-shirt.

He sat next to her. He was sitting uncomfortably close, and one hand came to rest on her bare thigh.

'You look worried, Alicia,' he heavily stated.

'Err, I'm, alright, err, thank, you,' she hesitantly murmured.

She looked down at the big hand making her thigh look small.

'I'm glad you are here. It's nice to have an attractive woman to talk to. You look really nice. Have you had your hair done?' he asked.

Forgetting her bust for a moment, she pushed a hand through her hair. There was nothing protecting her breasts, with one had holding the coffee, and the other in her hair. A lean to one side, and a hand to that breast had it back under cover. She was now leaning against him. If she lent the other way the other breast was sure to swing free.

He was trying to think of things to say, and was coming up with points of conflict his parents argued over. Not buying her flowers, not noticing her hair, not making nice comments about a new dress. All these had been stored away, and were now being used.

'No, I, err, think I've an appointment, next week,' she stammered.

'Don't get it cut short, its lovely when long,' he told her.

'I should go,' she said, with a shaky voice.

'Wait for your clothes,' he firmly stated.

'I could collect them,' she offered.

'No need. They will be ready soon. You're not worried are you?' he asked.

'No,' she squeaked.

'Finish your coffee,' he ordered. 'Do you like flowers? As a present, I mean,' he asked.

'Yes, I do. Can't remember when someone bought me flowers,' she sighed.

Trying to get up, she nevertheless couldn't trust herself to even speak. Besides, if she got up, she would show her bare bottom to him. It would be uncomfortably close, and might be seen as an offer. Oh! No! What an awful thought. She sat still, and sipped the coffee.

'It's nice, you make it nice,' she said.

It could easily be imagined what he might say at school to his friends. It was no fault of his, it was her silly mistake. If she had grasped the coffee mug, instead of fumbling it, none of this would have happened. He was a nice boy trying his best to help her. He was being kind to her, merely talking nicely to get her through the awkwardness.

'I can't go home like this. The dress is too short,' she said.

'No, I think you should wear it, I like it. It shows off your beautiful long legs,' he insisted.

'They aren't long, I'm too short for long legs,' she said.

'They look long, in proportion, shapely too,' he smiled at her.

'The dress is too short, and it's far too loose,' she complained.

'Stop complaining, girl,' he firmly told her.

The sudden change in his tone of voice alerted her. The aggressiveness stopped her cold. It suddenly occurred to her how big and strong he was. Since being on the assertiveness course, she should have been able to control the situation. All this time she was responding to his commanding tone, not realising she was becoming more and more submissive. It wasn't too late, he was only a teenager, so she could put a stop to this.

He took her wrists in a powerful grip and pulled her close.

'You came here to talk to my parents, to complain to my parents. You want me to stop bullying your son. Make a deal with me, not my parents,' he aggressively spoke.

'There's no need to be angry. We can talk about this. I just want you to leave him alone. You don't have to be nice to him, or anything,' she weakly spoke.

'I'll make you a deal. You stop complaining about the clothes, and I'll think about what you want,' he said.

'Alright, sure,' she agreed without understanding him.

She felt stupid. Stupid from the way he treated her. Stupid for getting into this situation. Stupid for not putting her foot down from the first moment.

'While I think about it you can get me a drink. A beer, you can work out where to find one, can't you,' he sarcastically said.

'Yes, I think so,' she demurely acknowledged.

Glad to get away from him, she tried to roll out of the soft seat.

'Hurry up,' he said, and shoved her bare bottom upward with a big hand.

'Oh!' she squeaked.

On the brink of a deal, she wasn't going to upset him, so she said nothing.

On her hurried return, he didn't reach for the beer, so she had to stand right in front of him. He gripped her hand around the bottle, not letting her go. Conscious of the short dress and being so close to him, she nevertheless couldn't look away. Pulling at the hem was out of the question.

He could lower his eyes and see her crotch from where he sat. Instead he looked stared her in the eye, capturing her attention. She felt like a frightened rabbit, caught in a trap.

'You have a nice ass,' he eventually said.