#bully fucks my mom

The Shape

It didn’t take long for your mom to realize that there was something wrong with her pumpkin spiced latte. She shot up and ran to the kitchen window. Her friend, who hadn’t been able to drink as much of her’s due to her diligence at carving away at her jackolantern, looked over at your mom, shocked and terrified at her sudden change in mood and behavior.

“What’s wrong!?”

Your mom fell to the floor. She began pressing her forehead to the ground and groaning as her big ass stuck up in the air. “Get out of here! Run!”

Your mom’s friend was full of questions, but she knew she had no time to ask any of them and she shot up, causing your kitchen chair to bounce out from under her ass, fall backwards, and smash the glass face of the stove. She ran out towards the front door. Your mom groaned behind her before going silent completely. Your mom’s friend heard a thud sound, but she didn’t turn around to look. If she did, she would have seen your mom lying face down on the kitchen rug.

Your front door got closer and closer. Her stomach was turning. Not just from the events occurring behind her, but because of a sudden chemical reaction bubbling from within her. The door leading to the outside world away from this claustrophobic nightmare was only an arm’s length away. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared behind the glass. Your mom’s friend stopped cold.

The door opened.

“Oh, thank god, it’s you!” She exclaimed.

You stepped into your house, smiling.

“Look.” She pointed to your mom lying face down in the kitchen. She looked back up at your shocked face.

You approached your mom and got down on your hands and knees. She was out like a light. “Go to the bathroom. We need water!” You demanded from your mom’s friend as she stood sheepishly by the front door.

She ran down the hallway and snapped on the bathroom light. She emptied the cup full of toothbrushes and she turned on the tap. As she stood there, with her fingers on the cold water handle, it occurred to her that she could have gotten water from the kitchen, but she forgot about that under all her panic and stress.

When the cup was full she ran out into the hallway, leaving the tap running, and rushed toward the light of the kitchen.

When she turned the corner, she gasped, dropping the cup to the floor, causing it to spill its contents at her feet.

Sitting there in front of her, on the kitchen floor in front of the sink, was a body that she recognized well enough. But what startled her wasn’t the body of her friend, it was her head. Because right where your mom’s familiar face should have been was instead a jackolantern, grinning back at her mockingly.

She twisted around to run in the opposite direction, probably in an attempt to get to the front door through the living room, avoiding running past your mom’s garrish appearance in the kitchen.

As soon as she turned around, a tall fleshy figure stepped out from the hallway. She screamed. But the shape’s hand shot out and grabbed her mouth. Then he wrapped his arms around her little frame and pulled her towards his naked body. Naked from the neck down. She looked up at him with eyes that screamed what her mouth couldn’t. He looked down at her. His horribly calm eyes behind his white, featureless mask.

He pushed her back into the kitchen. She fell to the floor on her ass. He approached her. His hard member swinging freely at her face level. She tilted her head back with horror as the cock swung inches in front of her face, a pendulum of sweaty flesh. “Open up,” said the voice. It was a horrible, horrible voice. She shook her head. He grabbed her cheeks and pressed them with his thumb and his forefinger, causing her mouth to pop open comically as she tried to shake her head free, looking almost as if she was shaking her head in the negative to the idea that any of this was really happening.

The shape was finally able to stabilize her head. She braced herself for that hard cock to enter her throat. When suddenly, instead, a warm liquid spilled into her mouth from above. It tasted like pumpkin-spice.

The shape stood over her with her latte cup and tilted it until there was nothing left. She coughed up a little bit, but he let her go. She tried to get up and run, but her legs failed her and she fell down right into your mom, who look down at her with that mockish jackolantern face. Your mom’s friend turned around just as the shape got to her. He grabbed her by her jaw and placed his other hand on the back of her head, then he pressed her face down towards your mom’s crotch.

She whimpered there for what felt like an eternity to her. Until, the whimpering stopped. He let go of her and her head sprang back up and rested itself on the sink drawer next to your mom’s. Their bodies were pressed into each other. Your mom’s friend finally looked peaceful, and your mom’s big orange head, over her soft tanned body, smiled ridiculously into the silence of the kitchen. Sex Hilarious.

The shape grabbed her first, and dragged her by her bare ankles. Her head tilted to the side as it dragged along the kitchen tiles and smiled at the third victim, lying face down underneath the kitchen table. She kept looking over in that direction as her legs were lifted up into the air, and her shorts were pulled up the length of her legs, passed her bare feet. Her smiling jackolantern face remained the same as her panties were removed the same way. The man then lifted her up by her legs, causing her jackolantern helmet to fall off and roll on the ground towards her friend. She was now completely bottomless in the same room with her son and her best friend. It was a surreal moment that they weren’t both awake to witness. Nor was she awake in order to know it was happening to her.

The shape hoisted her body on top of the kitchen table. He seemed to be driven by one thing, completely ignoring the son below the table, and the woman to his right.

He titled his head slightly to the side as he examined his victim’s bare ass. Fascinated by it as it sat motionless. He reached over and grabbed the paint brush and little black box of paints. He placed them next to the big naked ass. They looked like a strip of cabins next to a mountain. He opened up the box. He started with the black. Paint drips fell to the floor as he worked above. First it was black paint, and then it was orange. When he was done, he pushed your mom over to the side of the table and picked up her friend. He stripped her naked the same way he did your mom and placed her faced down on top of the kitchen table, her big bare ass side-by-side with your mom’s.

He began on her ass after staring at it curiously for a few moments.

When he was done, the paint box fell to the floor. He carried one woman at a time, down the steps in the kitchen that led to the garage. He opened the garage door, where there was a big grey van backed up right to where the garage ended. He placed your mom in first, face down. Then he came back again through the damp garage air with your mom’s friend. But your fate wasn’t to be put in that back seat with them. Instead he just closed the door, got into the driver seat, and left without shutting the garage.

Only one person saw anything. A girl from your school, walking home just then, saw a naked man in a white mask with a fully erect cock getting into the driver seat of that van. She rushed off quickly, creeped out by the sight. But because she didn’t see any more than that, she didn’t do anything about it. It didn’t even occur to her to tell any of her friends that day. They wouldn’t believe her. The thing that creeped her out most was just as this man was climbing into the driver seat of the van, he noticed her. He looked right at her and didn’t break eye contact. His black eyes peered at her, into her, and she turned off to rush away.

Many more people saw the creepy, gray van as it passed by with its night-black tinted windows and thick mist-like exhaust. None of them could see the driver, who stared ahead in his mask as he drove past the orange glow of Halloween displays and decorations, driving at exactly the speed limit, no more, no less, with no apparent doubt in his mind about where he was headed. They also had no way of seeing the contraband he was carrying in his back seat: Two asses, jiggling about with each brake and turn, naked but for the orange and black paint that cast a garrish looking jackolantern, smiling at the roof of the van, on each luscious ass. Sex Hilarious.

———————————-

A figure, large and ominous was walking about the farmyard. He was towering and bulky with muscle. He looked around, startled by every little noise. He had seen this farm with its shed every few days driving past it to get to work. He had no clue he would ever be standing here one day, especially not after being invited here by a note shoved into his back pack at some random point in the day. 

“It’ll be worth your while. You have nothing to lose… but your head.” is how the message ended. He thought it was ridiculous at the time, though the promises the letter made intrigued him. But now that he was here, he couldn’t shake the feeling like he was being watched by someone. Or something. Either way, he wasn’t going to cut and run. Just in case he really was being watched. He didn’t care what little Halloween trick had been prepared for him, he was going to wear his flat, emotionless poker face like a man.

And he’d shake off any indication that the promise made by the note not being made good on was upsetting to him. He’d hide that, even though in his heart of hearts, he was hoping deeply that it would be true.

The weather was crisp and cold, chilling him inside and out.

He took a few modest steps under the eaves of the barn. His pace was slower now. His eyes fixated on the many spidery shadows of the barn, knowing each one could be a hiding place for something he didn’t want to see. He went a few meters forward, then doubled back cautiously, as if he missed something.

Then suddenly, his eyes went wide. He saw something through the corner of his left eye. Something moving. He slowly turned his head to see a jackolantern. Just a jackolantern. He took a sigh of relief. It was all in his head. “You’re being a pussy,” he thought to himself, punitively.

Then he noticed something strange about the jackolantern. Not only was it clearly not a real jackolanter, it was a painted jackolantern on the face of something. Something that was not only resting on a pile of hay in a way that defied gravity, but something that was fleshy and was…. breathing.

He stood there, petrified as stone, not knowing what to do. Afraid to approach the two orange faces smiling ominously at him, and afraid to walk away. And that’s when one of them moved, and he could see the golden-brown flesh colored canvas it was painted on peeking out from behind the hay. And then he realized what he was looking at.

A woman’s ass.

Two of them.

And on top of the hay was another note for him.

He picked it up and read it. It said: “I told you it would be worth your while to come here. But one demand if you want to live. Hump all you want, but no peeking inside in the hay. I have a million eyes and they’re all watching you. Just know that these are two girls you’ve seen before. If you don’t hump away, you’re also dead.”

Chills went up and down his spine. His mouth was dry. But as long as this mystery person was being honest, he had nothing to worry about. As curious as he was to put two faces to these two asses, he could restrain himself if it meant life or death. And he definitely didn’t need to be threatened to start humping away. He had had sex with 3 girls in his life up to this point. His girlfriend, her sister, and her best friend. He was more than happy to up his number to 5 within seconds of each other.

He stripped his pants from his ass and let his cock, still hard through all his apprehension and fright, hang loose. He then, pressed his cockhead and shaft deep into the pussy, or mouth, of one of the jackolanterns, groaning with pleasure as he did. Then he pulled it out back into the cold October air, stepped over a bit to the left, and after taking a second to feel the pussy out with his cock head, plunged his trembling cock head and shaft deep into the warm pussy of the second jackolantern. His number was now 5. Now that that was out of the way, he could really enjoy himself.

He was sweating and trembling all over, even in the cold air, and he removed all his clothing before giving his shaking hard dick shelter within the haunted house of this mystery girl’s pussy. His right butt cheek twitched with pleasure as he did. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.” he said, voice breathless and shaking.

His cock going in and out of the jackolantern’s mouth should have been a familiar visual to him, but this connection was lost on him in that moment. He had caught one of his classmates in a room at a Halloween party years ago, sitting half naked on a bed, fucking the mouth of a jackolantern in the darkness. The whole party had a laugh at this guy’s expense when they bursted the door open on him to laugh after they were told about what was happening.

He was too overwhelmed by his ominous fear at the absurdity of his situation and glorious pleasure at this big ass and tight pussy on his hard prick to make these connections with events that happened in Halloweens past.

He wanted to see their faces so bad. Part of him almost thought it was worth the risk to take a peek as he switched from one ass to the other. “Ohhhhhh” he said aloud as he pressed his dick into the other pussy, “this one is so much better than the other one.” He kept pumping away at the mystery woman. He didn’t care if she was the ugliest woman he knew. He wanted to know who she was. Whose pussy he was violating right now.

He was about to get his answer.

“Aaaaggghhhhhh!”

Your mom and her friend burst out from under the hay.

His balls tightened up, and he almost came from the thrill of it all. Luckily he held on. The sudden jolt, triggering his fight or flight mechanism a bit, didn’t stop his pelvis from humping. And even through the sense of terror, he only took seconds to realize who he was looking at.

It was your mom and the pumpkin fucker’s mom. The revelation coming all at once almost made him cum again, and again he held on. Which was good, as now he wanted to fuck these two asses even more. The doped up eyes and mouths on their pretty faces looked back at him lazily. Your mom’s sweet pussy and fleshy ass felt so much better with her pretty face looking back at him. She was Hally Berry with a better body.

He was fucking the ass of the mom whose son he dominated at school. And Jackolantern Fucker’s mom’s bare ass was naked just next to her. They had been made into Halloween decorations by this mystery figure and handed over to him. Not only was he now free to fuck Jackolantern Fucker’s mom’s jackolantern, but he was free to take the sweet candy pussy from your mom to make up for the one Halloween he had to go without candy on because he beat you up for yours that night and you ran to your mom crying. He still remembers scowling at her from the kitchen as his parents handed her two pillowcases worth of candy, as you sat in the car crying.

He watched her brown legs and protruding butt in her Pirate costume skirt as she walked off. He knew he’d get her revenge on her one day.

He helped the women out of the hay once they started struggling to move around, completely forgetting what the note told him. He wanted to see their nakedness in all its glory.

Recognizing the effects of Blue Velvet in them, he knew that they’d be extremely vulnerable to suggestion.

“Shake your asses for me girls.” he demanded, cooly.

He watched their fat ass flesh wobble in the fresh October air, wondering if what he was looking at were two evil spirits, clothed in forms they knew would be the most appealing to him. After all, how could have this turned out so well?  And as turned on as he was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that that was exactly what was happening to him. The eerie faces on the asses didn’t help. They looked like they were laughing.

He could almost hear it.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,” mockingly.

It was coming through so high-pitched and clear within his head. It was almost as if now he knew that was what was happening. But his cock didn’t falter in its rigidity. It stood strong and proud. He was still overcome with excitement and lust, and the only thing that scared him more than the thought of these asses opening up and swallowing him whole, was the possibility that it wasn’t those two loser’s moms he was fucking.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.”

And even if these two ghosts or creatures or whatever they were had disguised themselves in the exact image of what these two women’s naked bodies actually looked like, the thought that it wasn’t actually them he was violating in this moment was horrifying.

He reached out and grabbed your mom’s ass. Then he put his finger in between her opening and closing butt cheeks. Oh, they were so warm and soft. He took a sigh of relief, because in the moment he knew these thoughts were only shadows from the dark corners of his paranoid mind.

He was replacing the positive unbelievable reality with a negative unbelievable reality. He had no reason to do that. The truth of what was actually happening was crazy enough for him not to make up any more wild tales.

All at once, the witch cackling from their asses stopped as their asses stopped shaking.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread at the two rictus grinning jackolanterns looking up at him. He saw a hose sitting over to the side.

“Okay, shake those asses girls.”

He played with his cock as he sprayed the two giant fleshy butts in front of him. He grinned evilly at his victory over these imaginary spirits. And with quite the show. The jackolantern faces began to fade and he could feel a darkness being lifted.

Their asses were just regular asses, not the faces of demons. If there were any real ghosts or spirits working to steer anyone’s fate this Halloween, they were working in his favor.

The Shape that brought him here watched from the darkness of the barn as he washed off the two naked bodies. The Shape’s eyes stood emotionless and black behind his white mask. His body stood still, all of it, but for his neck, which tilted his head sideways as he watched. A spider crawled across his face. He didn’t react. He just watched with his black eyes. Motionless. But for his chest as he breathed and his naked cock as it twitched.

The man he was watching enjoyed your mom’s ass, completely unaware that he was being watched. He forgot completely. All knowledge and fear had left on a black stagecoach being dragged by the power of your mom’s fat ass. Your mom’s ass had that effect on people even when they weren’t fucking her. 

The slap of your mom’s ass was drowned out by the sound of car engines, delivering little Frankenstein’s Monsters and Trolls to the city where they could collect bagfulls of candy.

And here, tucked away from that ritual, your mom kissed her friend’s ass as it rode your bully’s cock. And when he wanted to know what your mom’s pussy tasted like, all he had to do was ask.

His tongue invaded every part of your mom’s pussy.

Would it have made you proud to know that your mom’s ass was the one he decided to bust his warm load on? Because that’s what he did. And he left it there, along with her friend’s, sitting naked on that Halloween evening, just as the trick or treaters had hit their first few houses, and the goblins and ghouls rose from the dirt to make the night’s mischief complete.

The Shape watched as your classmate left. Moments later, he got into your family van and drove back to your house. Trick-or-treaters littered both sides of any street he drove down.  It was dark at this point, so he was able to exit the van in the cover of darkness. He rounded the corner of your house and walked along its wall, around to the back.

He disappeared into the blackness.

———————————-

You walked down your hallway with your hand running through your hair which had been matted with sweat. You felt like you were on a drug. You had this hazy feeling, an unreal sensation, as if you had just woken up from the most unbelievable dream you’ve ever had. One that felt too real to be a dream.

As you walk into the living room, headed towards your kitchen, you stop cold. You see someone in the corner of your eye.

You gulp.

You look over slowly

Your mom’s friend’s son is sitting on the couch, holding a jackolantern in his hands. He looks up at you, emotionless with plain.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you ask.

He just looks at you confused. “I… I don’t know. I think… I don’t know what’s going on.”

You shake as you look at him. He wasn’t in any normal state of mind. “Would you like a ride home?”

He looks up at you again, with a stare a thousand miles deep. “Yeah… I think so. But… my mouth is dry. Can I get water first?”

You sheepishly nod your head and duck into the kitchen. As the tap runs, he slowly rotates the jackolantern in his lap until it’s looking up at him. It’s smiling face garrishly laughing up at him.

You come back from the kitchen, looking back into it at all the paint on the floor, the tossed chair, your mom’s clothing on the table, and the discarded pair of panties. You look back at him, trying to look calm as to not draw his attention toward the fact that you noticed something strange had happened in our kitchen.

You hand him his water. You head back to your room. Cold October air blows in through your open window. You grab the keys to the van from your dresser. You get him into your van and you drive him down through the dark Halloween night streets, witch, ghosts, goblins and vampires on all sides around you in the darkness, all averaging about 3 feet tall. He’s staring off into space. You gulp deeply.

And then suddenly, he begins laughing.

“Ha ha ha ha ha.”

You keep your eyes straight ahead, as sweat trickles down from your forehead.

“Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa…”

He stops laughing only to stare off into space.

You were finally in front of his house, and the weight you had felt on your shoulders felt like it was being lifted. “Trick or treat!!” is what you hear from the 4 kids standing on his porch. Nobody answers because nobody is home.

He steps out of the car and says goodbye. Good was an understatement. And he brushes awkwardly past the kids on his stoup and disappears into the blackness of his house. You take a deep breath, relieved, and you drive off.

His blinds were wide open, with the orange glow from outside spilling into what would otherwise be stark darkness. He sits down on his couch, with thin rays of orange light projecting themselves at him, illuminating horizontal stripes of his person.

He breaths deeply in the dark.

“Why was I there?” he asks himself. “How did I get there?” He tried to retrace his steps. But it was hard, because after somehow remembering that he had gone over there to see his mom before heading home, his footsteps led to a black oblivion of thought, though not completely of sensation, as he remembers a strange other-wordly feeling, maybe in his gut, as if something foreign and wrong had entered him. And then he was on that couch, with that jackolantern in his hands.

No, wait. That’s not where and when he woke up. He remembers picking the jackolantern off the kitchen floor. The kitchen floor that was littered with paint and a pair of panties.

“And I… I woke up….”

He thought about it hard, trying to remember.

Suddenly it clicked.

“I woke up under the kitchen table.”

3 kids: 1 Witch and 2 Devils approached his front door. The large black windows and lack of light on the porch loomed down at them. Their pillow cases were tight in their hands.

Inside, as he sat on the couch trying to piece it all together, he felt something strange in his stomach. And then a familiar terror, something in his gut. And that’s when he realized it. “THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THAT WATER!!”

The 3 kids stopped short, their mouths open, milliseconds away from calling “trick or treat!” They fled from the dark house and the horrors that awaited them inside.

Inside, he lay on his back, passed out on his couch, seconds after shooting upwards and suddenly losing strength and thought, until all that was left was a black nothingness and he fell back down onto the couch. Nothing but a black nothingness. A black nothingness and that feeling in his gut.

—————————-

You feel a bit nervous as you head to your washroom. You hear kids yelling “Trick or Treat!” outside but you ignore them.

You look at yourself in the washroom mirror, feeling giddy and strange, and you hear a strange buzzing noise in your ears. It’s constant and unceasing. Like running water. You look down to see the tap is on, and you and your mom’s toothbrushes are lying in the sink. You put your hands under the cold water. Orange and black paint run down the drain.

“Trick or treat!” again from outside.

You shut off the tap and head for your room.

The night wind is blowing the curtains in, making a subtle whistling noise. You close the window, shutting yourself off from the ghastly fun going on all around the neighborhood. You sit on your bed, with your back resting on the head rest, staring at yourself in your mirror. You look exhausted.

An image flashed in your mind. A rustic door frame, surrounded by darkness and itself surrounding an image that was green, white, yellow, orange and brown and constantly moving. You smile at your reflection.

You then freeze as you notice something out of the corner of your eye. A face. You look over to your right to see it, waiting for you on your pillow. White, emotionless, void of features. You put it on and look at yourself in the mirror. You look down at your rock hard cock. You still had orange and black paint on it from earlier. It had dropped onto your toes too. And the bottom of your right foot, as you could see in your mirror, had the black leftover from the top of your accelerator and brake, and little dirty strands of hay littered your bed around your feet.

You stroke your cock as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your black eyes, emotionless, driven, blank. Looking less like a human, and more like a…

… a shape.

You tilt your head to the side.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iHkqgKMBDc (Hold ctrl and click on link)

Epilogue

Two big brown asses sitting out in the cold, surrounded by the pitch-black night. Illuminated only by the circumference of light propped up by two white candles, each protruding from one’s asshole. The two brown asses of two friends, sitting within two overlapping circles of visibility and warmth in a night without either. Hot candle wax spills from each, landing in the crevice between two butt cheeks.

The asses sit there. Brown cheeks, brown thighs, brown lower back, but no brown faces can be seen. A wolf howls in the night.

The wind blows, and the candles are snuffed out, leaving the illimitable blackness to swallow all.

One-Sided Meeting (Remember Me?)

You were standing at the back of the line and you couldn’t contain your smile. Of all the places in the world, this was the place where you finally get to see him again. In the most humiliating place possible. For him that is.

The shoe was on the other foot. It was a jack boot, and you were about to shove it so far up his proverbial ass you’d be able to control his facial expressions by wiggling your toes.

Another customer served, another link in the chain busted free, another step closer. You couldn’t wait. Those long gone days. You remember them like they were yesterday. One memory in particular, likely because of how similar it was to where you were now. In line in your old elementary school cafeteria. Standing just behind the blonde girl you had a crush on. The edges of existence itself felt blurred whenever you were around her. Everything looked like a dream sequence in the cartoons you got up early to watch ever Saturday morning. Except things felt more real, not less, whenever she was standing near you.

You couldn’t feel your legs, as if you were floating. She was inches in front of you. You wanted that moment to last forever.

Then suddenly: “Hey, Dirty Sanchez. Mind if I cut in line?”

You turned around suddenly to see him standing there, a full 2 and a half feet taller than you. Unluckily, everybody else in line turned to look as well. They started laughing at his pet name for you. He just looked down at you with that smug grin.

“I hope you don’t mind me cutting in front,” he said as he did, “think of it kind of like jumping the border. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

Your classmates didn’t get the reference. But you did, and you were trying real hard to fight back the tears. You knew that once you let just one loose, the rest would follow in force.

“I saw that.” You turned around to see your teacher, Mrs. Botaccelli, approaching. “Cutting kids in line? Really?” Her look of disgust was palpable.

“What?”

“Get out of line before I go to the superintendent.”

“The superintendent? Why not go to the principal?” he suggested, smug grin and all.

“Well, maybe it’s because a little bird told me that the principal is actually your uncle. And I was wondering who would hire you for this job. I knew it had to either be stupidity or nepotism. Turns out it was both.”

“Looks like you won this time. Now turn around and leave.” He stepped out of the line, smug grin still affixed to his helmet.

Mrs. Botaccelli just smiled as she walked off. He stared at her as she did.

“I like her even more when she’s walking away,” he said. He looked over at you. “You ever seen a butt that nice?”

You just stared up at him. You have. You saw it everyday at home. Little did he know, in the next few weeks, he was going to see it too.

Another customer was served, and you were another step closer to his dead-eyed gaze as a he piled food onto the tray of another satisfied customer. Service without a smile. His hairnet was the cherry on top of this fulfilling sundae.

You were lost in thought yet again. To the first day he saw her. She had come in to help with student reading week. I’m talking about your mom of course. She was bent over the desk, having a conversation with Mrs. Boteccelli. He looked over at their slightly bent over butts as they leaned over the desk. It was bittersweet. He loved seeing those two gorgeous asses lined up so perfectly next to each other, contrasting each other beautifully, but he didn’t want Mrs. Boteccelli to tell your mom about what a real piece of work he was.

“Hey, Dirty Sanchez, how do you like the look of that? If you look at the line in between her forearm and her bicep, you can tell what her butt looks like. Man, that’s a nice tan shade. Is she your mom?” He clearly asked that as a joke, because when your mom turned around, and catching your eye, waved to you, smiled, and said “hi” silently, his face turned white. Whiter than usual that is.

Mrs. Boteccelli gave him her patented disgusted look as she ushered your mom off to where the books were kept.

You could feel him next to you. You could always sense him when he was near. But now he was different. Like something inside him was missing. The same thing that made him so imposing to you.

And when he finally got a chance to start talking to your mom, it was clear what that something was. His confidence. He had no way of knowing what your mom knew. Has she heard the stories about the way he talks to you? Does she know about the time he tripped you when you were playing soccer with your classmates just to see you fall? Does she know about the way he openly brings up Mrs. Botaccelli’s butt to the students?

He had no way of knowing, and this uncertainty was what robbed him of his swagger. It showed in the way he talked to your mom. For the first time ever, you had lost all fear of him. He was like an injured bird or a chastised dog. You almost felt sorry for him. Not for too long though.

Eventually, reading week ended, just like any other week, and your mom was gone. This was enough to restore his mojo, robbing you of the satisfaction of knowing your mom, and her “gorgeous butt”, would be away from him, because, when it came to how he treated you, he just picked up where he left off.

He went right back to calling you Dirty Sanchez. He went right back to treating you like his favorite pinata, beating you with words whenever he got his chance. Except now, he had a new stick to beat you with. Once while doing finger painting, he came up close beside you and asked if you ever saw your mom’s butt naked before. You didn’t know how to answer that. He said that you should draw what it looks like for him.

You were so afraid, as he stood there, kneeling right next to you, that you instead painted out an image of your mom’s friend’s butt, which you had accidentally seen once.

“That’s your mom’s?” He asked. You nodded your head, sheepishly. “Cool. Can I keep it?” You nodded again.

Another time, he saw you picking pedals off a flower, playing She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not with your blonde classmate in mind. He came up to you and asked you what you were doing. You stood there quietly, afraid to move, never mind speak. He asked you if you were playing “My Mom’s Butt, Mrs. Boteccelli’s Butt.” You didn’t answer. You just pulled off another pedal. He said “Mrs. Boteccelli’s butt.” You looked at him. He stared down at you intently. “Pick another pedal.” You did. He responded with “Your mom’s butt. Okay, another one. Mrs. Boteccelli’s butt. Your mom’s butt. Mrs. Boteccelli’s butt. Your mom’s butt. Boteccelli’s butt.”

When you got near the end, the flower looking dismal and dead in your hand, you knew your mom’s butt would be the “winner” (lucky her…) so you ripped off two pedals at once. “Your dirty spick,” is what he responded with. “Your mom’s it is. The gods have spoken. That’s what happens when you cheat.”

Luckily for you, reading week was reading week and not reading year. If it wasn’t for that one field trip at the zoo, he never would have seen your mom again  at all. The best part of all was that even on that field trip, her shirt hung down over her ass, obscuring it from his greedy eyes. He didn’t even get one farewell look at it. 

He was trying to make up for his lack of confidence the last time he saw your mom by being as loud and obnoxious as possible. He kept trying to make small talk with her, but she seemed to be responding to him mostly out of a feminine urge to be nice, rather than actual interest in the conversation. Mrs. Boteccelli rolled her eyes at him.

To top it all off, that would be his last day at work. While you and your classmates sat in the dark enclosure, watching the owls sit in the artificial moonlight, something happened in the parking lot involving him that was so beyond the pale that, later that day, his uncle had to find the stomach to fire his own nephew from the gig he initially provided him. Principal giveth, principal taketh away. 

Your field trip was over.

On your way back to your classroom, walking past the office, you saw Mrs. Boteccelli describing the mystery event through the glass. You couldn’t hear her, but you saw her rocking her fist back and forth in front of her face and pressing her cheek outward with her tongue. It wasn’t until years later that you knew what that meant. He must have made that gesture at her after they argued in the parking lot over the usual. He might have even groped her. That’s what you gathered from the slapping motion she made with her hand just as you and your classmates were herded around the corner and she was out of view.

It was finally over. He was gone.

For years you wondered where he went. He was the little voice in the back of your head telling you you weren’t good enough. Making you feel like an outsider. You always wondered if seeing him would send you into shock or whether it would de-fang his legend in your overactive imagination. Well, you now how your answer.

You smiled as you took another step closer. The woman before you ordered a crescent and a smoothie. His eyes were dead. He had none of the usual joy he exuded when working as your recess monitor. Life had beat him down. He bitterly, but non-defiantly, handed the woman her tray and she walked off.

You took your step up to his counter. Your palms were sweating. You would have found it impossible to conceal your joy even if your life depended on it. “Hi,” you said.

“Hi,” he said, looking down at the register.

“Can I get a ham and Swiss with a water.”

<tap> <tap> <tap> “Yeah. That’ll be $5.28.”

You pulled the ten dollar bill out of your pocket and before handing it to his outstretched palm, you pulled it back, lifted it to your face, and scratched your cheek. He followed the bill as it moved, across the table, up your stomach and chest, right up to your face, and then he made eye contact.

He froze.

You stood there smiling, from ear to ear, all your pride seeing him in this low state. It had all built up to this moment.

He looked at you for a second, in your eyes which must have shone cruelly as black suns.

Would he say anything?

Suddenly, the corners of his mouth bent slightly upwards. And they kept going. And the lines on his eyes creased, and his lips kept on, until it hit you. He was smiling.

Confidently. Smugly. Wide. Enthusiastically. Genuinely. He was smiling.

He was smiling right at you.

What was going on?

He was happy to see you. Unashamed. Almost as if you were the one who should be embarrassed.

But…

A terror took hold of you like you couldn’t describe. So much so that you knew you were telegraphing it with your face, no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

His smile wouldn’t break. He was a foot away from your face, grinning confidently, as if he wanted to laugh at some cruel joke, or some sad figure. Like he was watching a clown locked in its most ridiculous bit. He was beaming like you’ve never seen him. So familiar, yet so new and sick.

What was happening?

Suddenly, the image of Mrs. Boteccelli standing in that office flashed in your mind. She lifted her fist to her face, rocked it back and forth, and pressed her inner cheek with her tongue. With her right hand, she made a slapping motion, as if smacking a fat bottom, until she disappeared as you rounded the corner.

It kept replaying in your head, as if you were scanning each pixel of your memory for clues.

You were being walked into class by the bus driver because your teacher, wide-eyed in the principal’s office, was passionately describing what she saw in that parking lot. He cheek bulged in and out.

Her typical look of disgust at all things him, which had been burnt into your memory, wasn’t really there now that you think of it. She had more humor in her face. Like she enjoyed what she had seen. At least the messed up spectacle of it. Like she had just came out of a circus tent, excited to relay the contents of the freak to those still waiting in line. She seen something in that parking lot, she wasn’t the victim of it. She was the witness.

The bus driver, when looking back to make sure all the students were following him through the hallway, kept locking eyes with you. One of the teachers was leaning over the librarian’s desk speaking to her in hushed tones, as if sharing news she shouldn’t be. When your class passed by they looked over. They watched with concern in their faces as the cloudy mass of students passed, waiting for them to disappear so they could continue talking. No, they weren’t looking at the class with concern. They were looking right at you.

The bus driver brought you all into class and got you to sit down. He had you play classroom games to pass the time until your teacher was back. Usually the recess monitor would do that, but he was in trouble for whatever he did in that zoo parking lot so he wasn’t there. But if the recess monitor wasn’t there, then the parent volunteer should have….

….where was your mom during all this?

The beads of sweat fell thick along your face as he stared into your eyes, grinning at the gift God set before him.

Mrs. Botecculli, trying not to laugh, excited to share what she saw with the principal, jerked her fist in front of her face, and poked into her cheek comically. Then she lifted her hand up and made a smacking motion in the air, and she said something. You couldn’t hear it, but you could see her mouthing the syllables out in a way that was familiar to you. You could see it now, as clear as day and in slow motion. Each syllable isolated, but said in quick succession. It was a name.

Oh god!

No!

She disappeared as you rounded the corner.

He stared into your eyes. Your face was red hot with shame and submission. The bulge in his beige khakis twitched. His smile wide and unceasing like the sky. His back straight and his chin up, his eyes twisted at you, maniacal in their ecstasy. But he didn’t laugh. That would have been a release. He held on to the moment and savored it.

Not knowing what to do, you handed him your ten, wet with your sweat, and you walked off, forgetting to wait for change. You went to go sit down, and you tilted your tray, spilling your water all along the table and floor, causing everybody else sitting there to look over at you.

You went over and grabbed a napkin with your stiff limb. You wiped up the mess you made, not very well, and then you sat down, hearing and feeling a moistness on your ass as you did. You lifted your sandwich to your face, taking a bite, as if nothing was the matter. You chewed but you didn’t taste.

He was behind you, and without looking, you could feel him looking down at you, at the back of your head, the smile still there. It was as if he was a giant looking in at you through the window that stretched from one corner to the other. You ate on as if he wasn’t there. The back of your neck and ears were as red as hot coals. When you finished, you got up and walked away without looking back, with a dry throat and nothing to drink to make it wet again.