Annabelle's Lockdown Ch. 02

Authors note:

You should probably read the first chapter in order to understand this one. In short, Annabelle, aka 'Tink', her heart freshly broken by a cheating boyfriend, now ex, encounters a friend (Timmy) from her distant childhood who has turned to her for help. He's been abused in foster homes, fed breast forming hormones and seeks comfort and safety in Annabelle's presence as she used to baby sit him. He's ended up in her spare bed, dressed in some of her clothes. All this during a covid-19 pandemic lockdown.

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I'd stood at the door to the spare room a few times to check on Timmy. The trauma in him was visible and audible. He had cried, grumbled, ground his teeth and wrestled with unseen things in his sleep. At one stage he had wound himself up in the bed sheet, the oversized night shirt and pair of simple shorts I'd left out for him, partially visible in the moonlight streaming through the window. I'm not sure if I was feeling maternally worried when I checked on him, or scared for my own selfish reasons.

Once I'd made it through my jobs for the evening, and a nightcap, I checked my laptop and discovered email after email advising me of the company's covid plan for the next week and my role, which was to work from home plus be available on call. Leaving the beckoning call of work until tomorrow, I headed for bed, but sleep did not come for me, and Timmy's disturbed state worsened.

Moving quietly into the guest room, I managed to partially untangle him from the sheet and spoon him, thankful for the air conditioning's cooling effect on this warm night, made warmer by my bed friend. We'd slept like this years ago, when I'd just hit my teenage years and he was only 7 or 8. He had crept into my room one thunderstormy night when we'd looked after him for a weekend. I'd lulled him to sleep that night, whispering to him stories of far off lands. I hoped my closeness this night would calm his afflictions and allow him to get some fitful sleep.

I woke in the morning to find myself still spooning him from behind. I had one arm under his neck and the other draped over him, my hand resting gently on his boob.

I lay there, listening to his breathing. In and out, and out, and in. All the while wondering what had tortured him so.

Fuck! That is a boob, I thought. It wasn't big, something like a large A cup, but it was a boob. There was no judgement from me, just wonderment and confusion.

He sounded peaceful. Not wanting to disturb him, but curious of what I'd found, I gently cupped the warm mound of flesh under my hand. Waiting a few moments, I then ran a finger over the nipple. Once, then twice. The response was noticeable. I'll be damned, I thought. I cupped the boob again just for good measure. The feeling was enjoyable. A little thrill ran through me. I loved the aesthetics of a good boob, but had never really played with someone elses. I'd admired but not touched. Sure, as a kid I'd touched and felt, but that was kid play. This was something unexpected and, for some reason, naughty. Surpressing any further thoughts I got up and got on with the day.

I was sipping from a water bottle later that morning when he emerged from the bedroom, the night shirt hiding the shorts and swallowing up most of his slender frame. I was seated at the work station just to the side of the tv area. From the shirt down he could almost look feminine. Then I moved my eyes up to his chest region and blushed, thinking that without the shirt, his chest could possibly look very girl like.

Trying to shift my focus back to work, I completed the form I was working on and hit save. Timmy was finishing up a glass of water.

"Make yourself at home. I have to work for a while. Zoom call coming up. Search around and find what you need. 'Mi casa su casa'. Just stay quiet please and stay out of the camera. Even with a filter I don't need 50 questions about who that might be in the background." He nodded and quietly set about making some breakfast. I snuck another glance at his chest region. If you know what you were looking for, you could make out the small bumps in the fabric.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a calendar reminder that my meeting was about to start. And like that, the morning disappeared into a morass of online meetings, forms, calls and documents. My guest brought me a glass of water at one stage but carefully left it to the side of my desk, not interrupting my online meeting with the national head of human resources. At one stage I heard him in the laundry and later on in the shower.

Around 11am I decided enough was enough and shut the lid on the laptop, switched the mobile phone to silent and rummaged through the fridge, coming out with a carrot which I peeled and chopped in short order. Hearing my culinary call, Timmy appeared from the bedroom and peered around the corner. Part hungry bruised human, part curious cat.

Taking an offered carrot stick, he took a seat on a bar stool at the breakfast bar and reached for the half full glass of water he'd been drinking from earlier.

"So." I said.

He hesitated. His eyes moistened, his head dipped and he murmed "So..."

I let him take his time.

"I needed somewhere to go." Tears flowed down his cheeks. "Somewhere safe." He reached for the water, his hand shaking. "They kicked me out. I'd only just turned 18 and within weeks, they kicked me out..."

"Who Timmy?"

"My foster family. I'd been a ward of the state after mum and dad died. I was moved from foster home to foster home. Older siblings bullied me mainly. So, they would move me."

"Is that where the bruising came from?"

He looked at me, confused for a moment. I motioned to the side of my face.

He shook his head. "I was beaten up a few nights ago in the sand dunes down there." he said, motioning out the window. "I was sleeping rough."

"Fuck" was all I could reply, but then asked the stupid question, "Why didn't you come here earlier?"

"I almost did, but I didn't know how to make contact in a way where you wouldn't reject me, push me away, ignore me. I've watched you for several days. You almost ran me over once. Then I thought about the TINK sign." Another tear rolled off his chin to the bench top below.

"Back up. Why were you kicked out?" Part of me wondered whether I should actually be worried for my safety.

"They didn't have to look after me anymore. The government processes were supposed to give me support, but didn't. I came home one day from my summer job and had a 'release from care' document waved in my face and my bag handed to me. I had sixty two dollars to my name and no where to go. Crisis housing wouldn't help, they said to go get help from friends. Everywhere is full up in this pandemic. Without money or references I couldn't get a rental. Moot point though, as there are no rentals." Perth's rental market was tapped out in this pandemic environment with 10s of prospective renters for each property available.

A sob broke from him. I went round the kitchen island and hugged him. It was a one way hug. More sobs came. "Timmy, Tink wants a hug back...". Nothing. "Hug me." Nothing. "It will make you feel better." He hugged me, his head squashing into my boobs. The tears flowing freely again.

Over the next half hour, he spoke. I listened. He'd been abused in so many ways. The where abouts of his inheritance was unknown but his last carers had somehow duped his trust fund into stumping up bucket loads of cash for purposes not related to him. He'd been beaten, not allowed to have friends or a social life, placed on strict curfews and beaten some more. He'd hardly ever been checked up on by the system, and the one time he'd tried to report to a foster supervisor he'd been told to think carefully about causing trouble. Meek little Tim pulled his head in, taking what was metered out, surviving day by day. They'd even demanded he hand over some of his summer job wages. On and on it went, his tale of abuse continuing.

"Timmy, what else happened?" He looked at me, questioning in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, I shifted my gaze down a touch. He knew exactly what I meant now. His face turned deep red. He stared at the counter in front of him. The silence was deafening.

"Timmy?"

"I think they drugged me." He looked up with anger in his eyes. "The most recent carer mother, she would taunt me repeatedly about being so small, so thin..." He stared off at the counter again. "I mistakenly once told her about you. About our games as a child. About how I felt safe back then. She would tell me I should have been a girl, that I didn't look like any teenage boy. This went on and on. Then she'd make me take vitamin pills. Kept saying they'd do wonders for my small frame." His fists clenched. "Then the growing began." He looked down at his chest.

"Tim, it could be something else. You always were small..."

He glared at me.

"Did you hit puberty late? It could be..." I searched my mind for the term, picturing a page from a magazine article read years ago, "Gynecomastia. Many males get breast tissue around puberty, then it naturally goes away." He shook his head.

Then phone vibrated. I put a work face on and went to pick it up. Ted, my parent's neighbour was calling. Answering the call and switching speaker phone on, I made a silence motion to Timmy.

"Hi Ted."

"Annabelle, my girl! I've been on the phone to your folks. Come down here if you need to. In the mean time I've said Dan will water the gardens, collect any mail and make sure everything is ok."

"Thanks Ted. You on speaker phone there? Is my Danny boy in the background?" Ted was like a surrogate grandfather to me and I loved him for it. Danny, his son, was now 16 and should have been like a cousin to me. We had spent time together over the years and were almost like family. Except he'd become more like a deer in the headlights around me since his puberty hit, and he'd hit his mid teens and all those hormones that kick in at that age. He'd had a serious crush on me for years. We all knew it and teased him mercilessly for it.

"He's right here, drinking some OJ." I could almost picture the smile on Ted's face.

"Ohhh Danny... thanks for the assist. I'll owe you biiigtiiiime now. I'll make it up to you." Then with added emphasis and in a semi husky voice "I promise." I know it was also done with a pretty wicked grin too.

There was a sound from the other end of the line which may or may not have been someone expelling juice.

I glanced at Timmy. There was a smile, but also something else to his reaction. Interesting.

Ted's laughter was raucous. "You've gone and flustered the boy, 'Belle. He's run off. He won't think straight for days now."

"He'll get over it."

"Not for some time by the look of it 'Belle. Anyway, stay healthy and safe. Give my regards to..."

I cut him off. "Nope, I won't. He cheated on me and it's over." There. I'd said it to another person. I glanced at Timmy again. A different look was on his face. 'Is that happiness? Or is it relief?' I thought.

"Haven't told the parents." It was a statement from Ted, not a question.

"I'll get to them. It's still too raw."

"Do it soon 'Belle and get it over with. Stay safe little chicken." The call ended and I put down the phone.

Timmy had got himself together. "Tink, where are my clothes?" He said, pulling at the side of the nightshirt.

"Yeah, about that. They went down to the bins last night. No offence, but they stank and I don't think anything was going to get them clean."

Fear came to his eyes. "But the shops are closed, in lockdown...". He stood up and paced a few steps back and forward. He was about an inch shorter than me and maybe 32-22ish-31ish. We had very similar figures in many regards.

"Timmy, you've dressed in my clothes before. You can do it now. We are probably the same size anyway. It'll be like before, but you are more my size now."

He looked like he was frozen in stone, stuck to the spot. He didn't move. Seconds passed. I searched for words to make good what I'd done and to realise what had started to form in my mind.

"There is no one here but Tink. It's safe." The maternal side of me, which I'd only just realised was a real part of me, meant that last word. The more evil part of me, the part that pushed boundaries, screamed to be allowed out to play for a moment and make the most of the first part of the statement. I quickly cocked an eyebrow, thrust my hips out and added, "You know, there are thousands of 18 year olds who'd love to get into my pants, and I just gave you an open invitation." Moments passed.

Timmy blushed, a sweet doe eyed blush. He stumbled for some words and all he could find was "Ahhhh, thanks?" But something flashed in those deep blue eyes.

A little part of my insides fluttered. I'd been hit on hundreds of times and had wrapped lots of men around my fingers before. There was definitely something at work here between us. But what? And how bad was it I just flirted with a 'childhood friend' who was now possibly a fairly broken human being? I smiled and told him to go find something else to wear, if he wished.

Work beckoned. I left him and headed back to the laptop. I pressed on into the day's to do list. Later on, I had a weird urge and I tweaked a nipple whilst leaning into a zoom call with a team mate who looked like a male model. It wasn't my work mate's image that caused me to do this however, it was the though of Timmy in a pair of my panties.

My mind whirled. What the fuck was happening to me here?

Time whizzed by as meeting merged into meeting. Compliance report, merged into other compliance reports. Work happened. Life went on, despite the pandemic. I grabbed glasses of water here and there and munched on some raw sugar snap peas at some point. Timmy was no where to be seen. I kept ploughing on with work.

Before I knew it, my phone was saying it was 5pm. I'd worked more than 8 hours today, so I logged off the laptop, set my phone to vibrate only, got up and stretched for 5 minutes. It's crazy how working from home can tense you so badly.

Walking to the guest bedroom door, I found Timmy mumbling, but asleep on his back. He was wearing a pair of my running shorts, these ones a vibrant aqua colour down one panel. He also had on a black running shirt. The women's-cut accentuating the curves of his upper body. If he'd been a more manly build these would have looked so conspicuous on him. Instead he looked cute, in an at worst feminine, and at best androgynous, way.

By the time I'd poured a stir fried, wok's worth of vegetables, onto some plates and poured two glasses of New Zealand white wine, the sleepy figure emerged from the bedroom.

"Morning sleepyhead."

"Morning". He stretched, his shirt stretching enough across his breasts to catch my eyes and interest. "Stop. Wait...What... Morning?"

"Just fucking with you, sleepy. Its almost 6pm."

"Wow".

"Wow indeed." I said, giving him a down and up look that in any workplace could have got me reported to a harassment officer. He blushed. "Someone has got into my shorts." By the look on his face, he'd just about died with embarrassment from that comment. Fuck, I could be a shit stirring tease sometimes.

We spent the evening with him talking and me mostly listening. After checking some online news and my emails, I decided I needed sleep.

"You are probably not tired, so why don't you fire up a streaming service on the tv and I'll see you in the morning." I nodded towards the 60 inch Sony.

"Tink, despite my long sleep today, I feel like I need more."

"Then go to sleep stupid. Listen to your body. You've been through a lot lately. Rest up."

"Tink..." He paused. "Can you sleep with me again? Like last night?" His voice was calm but his eyes pleaded. "I woke up at one stage and felt you there. It really helped."

I went over, kissed him on the forehead and nodded. Then headed to my room, coming back in some comfy, but small, pyjama shorts and a tight fitting, matching top. He was sitting on the bed. I gave a little Tinkerbelle pirouette and giggled. He swallowed hard and smiled. I think he may have blushed again.

He lay down on his side and I snuggled in behind him, resting my one free arm down my body. He smelled clean, and of mint and fluoride. After a few moments he reached up and behind himself, pulling my arm over him. My hand, after being moved up and over him ended up coming down on a squishy, but small boob.

Oooh sweet summer heat did my insides tumble. Despite this, the first wave of sleepiness came in fast, and carried me off to many sweet dreams.

I woke to morning silence. I could almost hear his gentle breathing on the other side of the bed. Turning, I took in the sight that was my little Timmy. 'Where did the 'my' come from? Was I becoming possessive here?' I thought.

He was on his stomach, head turned away from me. The shirt had risen up, exposing the dimples on his back. The bottom of the running shorts had also risen on the side closest to me, exposing the bottom half of a very sexy butt cheek. His skin was very light coloured. He hadn't seen much sun over summer by the look of it, and he was naturally fair due to his Lithuanian heritage. No real body hair to speak of, or at least from what I could see. That little butt cheek held my vision for more than was healthy. It was just...sexy.

Sneaking a finger down into my shorts confirmed that I was a little moist down there and I came to realise, pretty quickly, that I would not be so frustrated this time, should I wish to launch my body further down along an erotic path.

I tapped my hood a few times and let out a little "whoa" sound. I rubbed my middle finger along the length of my already swollen lips and my hips shimmied. I went to push it into me and my conscience got the better of me. I couldn't do this here, next to Timmy, and possibly wake him. He'd been through trauma and needed recovery sleep.

I glanced again at butt cheek. Oh Lordy it was a sight. Carefully getting up, I stood beside the bed and looked him over again. That's an 'apple' of a heiny, a really tight and small butt, I thought. My hand went down the front of my shorts again but paused, just resting on my pubic mound. I looked at his back dimples and touched my clit ever so gently. Sparks flew and guilt levels rose. Oh Lordy, was I feeling some urges there!

I turned and shuffled across to the door, the image of a butt cheek still vivid in my mind. I tapped that 'oh so sensitive' spot again. Fireworks. I stifled a moan. I needed to get out of there. This was happening now and it was going to be quick, nasty and glorious. Out the doorway I now raced. My hand still down my pants like some four year old boy grasping a morning boner, but I was a 23 year old woman with a wet pussy and a need to satisfy a basic urge. Halfway to my master bedroom I re-tapped my finger on that sensitive spot, more out of being flustered than selfish intent.

Ohhh geez. My release was speeding towards reality. 'Move faster!' I thought. I got to my doorway and knew I would not make it to the bed. I was not going to make it anywhere before I came. The urge to orgasm had built in me to tsunami proportions and I was about to be engulfed in its flooding waves. I stopped as best as I could and angled a finger and a half up, and into, myself. The result was instantaneous, glorious and monumental. My pussy gushed. My fingers were clamped down on. My knees buckled and I bit down on my other hand, trying, and only partially succeeding, to silence an orgasmic scream.

My insides bucked and slammed. And this all happened before I'd hit the floor. Colours bloomed behind my eyes and I'm sure I could smell rose petals and honey as the world spun and danced. I remember laying there on the floor a trembling mess, the crotch of my pyjama shorts wet and sticky with my fluids.