Bully Moves in Next Door Pt. 11

This usually meant he had me doing the most menial of tasks: scrubbing the bathroom, cleaning up the workstations, disposing of the excess animal flesh that isn't used. Every unpleasant aspect that came with working in a butchery and deli, I had to do.

Stanley totally got off on it all. Not just ordering me around, but what he made me do as well. He could never hide his grin whenever he assigned me something to work on, clearly reveling in the fact that he had mom and I under his thumb. We were both his to do with, there and at home, as he pleased, completely cementing him as the sole authority figure in our lives.

To make it even worse, mom was grateful to him for it. The first few days or so, I could tell from her body language that she was a bit apprehensive about me working there, but chose to defer to Stanley's judgment and authority as the man of the house, sending me off with him without a word each morning.

However, when I kept coming home exhausted, she took it as a sign that I had become dedicated to the job and was working hard, something that was probably reinforced by Stanley as well.

One evening, a couple of weeks after I'd started working with him, I emerged from the bathroom after showering and heard them talking in the living room. Creeping down the stairs, I spied them sitting close together on the couch. Mom's arm moved up and down, her hand down the front of Stanley's mesh shorts, stroking him.

"Once again, you were right," she was telling him. "I've never seen him work so hard before."

"See, this is why I make all the decisions," he said in a husky voice, his left hand casually playing with one of her tits. "I know what's best for the both of you."

"I know, and I'm sorry for doubting you. I'll know not to question what you decide again."

"It's ok, baby, so long as you remember that's why you wanted me in the first place."

"Well, partly why," she smiled coyly and stroked him faster.

"Yeah, why don't you go ahead and remind me of the other reason you wanted me around."

With his other hand, he pushes her head slowly toward his crotch, giving her enough time to free his hard cock for to take between her lips.

"That was a smart idea Stanley had," grandma was saying, her words slurring slightly.

"I think so. Oh! The baby is kicking again!"

"He sure does that a lot. Must be strong like his father," grandma said.

Mom sees me looking down at her stomach and reaches over to take my hand.

"Here, sweetheart, I don't think you've felt him kick yet."

Before I can say anything, she lays my right palm over stomach. I sit there dumbfounded, my mouth slightly ajar, as I feel a strong thump against my hand come from within.

Despite mom's pregnancy nearing its end, I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that the baby growing inside her is both my little brother and Stanley's son, that they had procreated together and the result was kicking at me from within her stomach.

For years I had wished for a younger brother, and either God or fate had cruelly decided to grant that wish by dumping my high school bully next door to be able to inseminate my mother in an elicit, lust filled copulation, which was the culmination of a torrid, fiery affair.

"So?" Mom prompts.

"It's, um... strong," I gently remove my hand.

"Bet he ends up tall and muscular, just like his daddy," someone says.

"He'll have good genes, that's for sure," grandma says, taking a sip of her drink.

"He's so energetic, always moving and bouncing in there. Definitely as tenacious as Stanley, I can tell that much already."

"That's my boy," Stanley comes bounding back down the stairs.

He's washed up and changed into his usual getup of a tank top and mesh shorts with his signature white slides on his feet.

The women laugh as Stanley throws himself down onto the couch on the other side of mom.

"Let's hope that's not all he gets from me," he puts his arm around mom and leans in to kiss her deeply.

"Oh, that reminds me," someone says as they break apart, "let me take a photo of the new family."

"That'd be wonderful," mom gushes. "Thanks, Siobhan."

Stanley saddles up close beside her and she automatically leans into him. I feel his large paw clamp onto the top of my shoulder, causing me to tense under his strong grip.

"One, two, three, say 'baby'!"

I manage a small smile in spite of the pain as the brunette named Siobhan snaps a photo of us with her phone.

"Alright, now just mommy and daddy."

Stanley releases me and I quickly stand up to move through the crowd of women, rolling my shoulder as I jostle through them. I'm going to have a bruise there tomorrow, I just know it.

Turning, I stop and look at mom and Stanley sitting on the couch together. He casually drapes his right over her shoulder while resting his left on top of her stomach, a sleazy, self satisfied smirk stretching wide across his face.

Mom's left hand grips his muscular thigh while her right holds onto the wrist of the hand draped over her shoulder, her smile as wide and happy as his.

Staring as they pose for the camera, I picture a little baby cradled between them, and can't help the foreboding feeling that I'm slowly being pushed out.

-----

Mom gave birth almost a month after the baby shower. She went into labor early one morning while both Stanley and I were home.

I spent the next twelve hours in the waiting room with Stanley's raucous family, his obnoxious brothers pestering me and his sleazy dad making passes at the nurses. Finally, later that night, I had a new little brother.

One of the nurses led me into mom's room and I stopped in the doorway. If there was ever any doubt that mom was carrying Stanley's child, they were instantly swept aside. The baby swaddled tightly in the blue blanket was dark and hairy, just like he was.

Mom laid in bed, cradling him softly in her arms, while Stanley sat next to her on the edge, his left arm hooked around her shoulder. They both stared down at the baby sleeping soundly.

"He's perfect," mom whispered in awe.

Despite how tired she looked, I could see a deep, adoring love in her eyes as she smiled softly down at my little brother.

Eventually I cleared my throat and shuffled in place, catching their attention.

"Hi, sweetheart," mom said. "Come meet your little brother."

I walked over and stood by the bed, looking down at the baby.

"S.J., this is your big brother, Kyle," mom gently cooed down at him. "Do you want to hold him?"

Without waiting for a response, she gingerly handed him over to me, explaining the proper way to support his head and such, and suddenly I'm staring down at my little brother, nestled in my arms.

Here he is, the culmination of my mother's affair with my high school bully. This baby ties them, and by extension me, together, for the rest of our lives.

-----

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Pachis."

I watch from my seat as mom and Stanley turn toward the cheers and applause of the crowd. They hold hands, a smug look on Stanley's face and a beaming smile on mom's.

They decided to mark their two years together by marrying, or "getting hitched" as Stanley put it. Even though so much had happened between them in the last couple of years, it still came as a surprise when they told me.

I never figured Stanley would tie himself down like that. I knew from working alongside him that he still regularly fucked other women, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Marriage was the ultimate form of submission on mom's part, legally tying herself to him as his woman, his property. I had shivered when they got to the part in the ceremony where she promised to honor and obey him, but Stanley had grinned wide at that, and I swore I saw him chub up just a bit in his pants.

My heart had sunk when the officiant had finally declared them man and wife, and I watched hopelessly as they sealed their union with a deep, sensuous tongue kiss.

Now, sitting low in my chair, I watch as they walk back up the aisle, this time together and as husband and wife. The beaded bust of mom's wedding dress displays a generous amount of her ample cleavage while the slim bodice hugs her body tightly, showing off her curvaceous figure, before flaring out at the bottom.

Stanley had decided to forgo a traditional tux in favor of simple black dress pants and a matching jacket, the silver shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal a portion of his sculpted chest underneath.

Stopping at the opposite end, they lean in to kiss one another and the crowd whoops and hollers while the photographer snaps several candid pictures.

The officiant invites the guests to the reception hall while Stanley and mom take pictures with their respective families.

I wait several minutes for the crowd of people to disperse before walking up the center aisle to join everyone else up there.

Stanley stops speaking with his father to turn and grin at me as I approach.

"So glad you could join us today, Kyle," he says in a condescending voice. I catch Stuart smirking slightly out of the corner of my eye.

"Thanks."

He raises his eyebrows expectantly and I inhale deeply, closing my eyes for a brief second before reopening them.

"Dad," I add, barely managing to get it out. His grin grows even wider.

Stanley had insisted that I start calling him dad once he and mom got engaged, something mom found absolutely charming, although I could hardly stand the idea. So, I tried to address him as little as possible, but that didn't stop mom from referring to him as "your dad" whenever she spoke about him to me.

"Alright folks, we're going to take a series of different pictures, some with the bride's family, some with the groom's, and then a few of just the happy couple."

The photographer ushers Stanley's large family in first, the whole lot of them clustering around mom and Stanley in the center. Mom looks so out of place surrounded by so many tall, bronzed skinned, hairy men.

When it's our turn, grandma and I stand on each end, her next to mom and me next to Stanley, who clasps his large hand on my shoulder in a tight grip.

"Smile wide, son," he emphasizes the last word and I can't help but shiver.

I try my hardest to muster a smile, knowing that, for me only, today wasn't the happiest of days.

Finally, the whole lot of us are crowded together for one big family photo. I feel incredibly uncomfortable sandwiched between two of Stanley's brothers, both of whom take turns jostling me while snickering, and hope that this is over as fast as possible. The photographer is blessedly quick about it, however, and soon I step away, sighing in relief.

"All right, these are great," he says, looking at the screen of his camera. "Now one last set just of the immediate family."

Stanley's mother, who's been holding S.J., steps forward to hand him over to mom. He instantly wraps his legs around her as she hoists him up onto her waist.

Almost one and a half years old, S.J. is already big for his age, just one of the many ways he takes after Stanley. In addition to having the same olive skin tone and dark mop of hair, he was just as rambunctious too. As soon as he could walk, he began storming around the house with an undeterred tenacity. Same now that he's learning to talk, mimicking Stanley's assertive and commanding style of speaking.

This of course pleased Stanley to no end, and he did what he could to encourage S.J. 's behavior whenever he could, a shit eating grin plastered on his face every time he noticed his son acting like him.

"He's a chip off the ole block," he'd declare proudly.

I move to join them but was blocked by Stanley's loud family, who failed to notice me trying to get through. Working my way around them, I stop, my face falling when I finally notice that the photographer has already started taking pictures.

Mom and Stanley stand close together, holding S.J. between them, as they smile at the camera; the picture of a happy family.

I could feel myself deflate. Neither of them had even thought to include me. Had they already forgotten about me in just a short month?

I had recently decided to move out. After S.J. was born, my life became unexpectedly hectic. Since mom was busy taking care of a newborn in addition to working, it became my responsibility to take care of all the chores around the house in addition to working full time at the butcher shop and deli that Stanley's family owned.

It became common to come home from an exhaustive shift only to immediately begin whatever chores I had to do that day, and now that there were four people living there, including a newborn, it became a lot.

I was so busy and overwhelmed that the days and weeks blended together, and I realized, too late of course, that I had missed my chance to apply for student loans, which meant that I had to put off college again for another year.

So I fell into my new routine as the year progressed, working as a housemaid in my own home while being Stanley's personal bitch at the shop. I even took on the role of babysitter several months after S.J. was born.

One day, Stanley informed me that he was taking mom out for the evening, that they deserved a break and would be going out to dinner before spending the night at a hotel for "some alone time."

Of course, I was expected to look after S.J. while they were gone, something I was given no choice in, and this became a semi-regular occurrence. Mom and Stanley would go out, sometimes spending the whole night or even a weekend away, and it was left to me to watch my little brother, who only got more rambunctious the older he grew.

Eventually, I was able to find a rhythm that made it all bearable. But a small part of me knew this would become my permanent station in life unless I pushed myself forward in some way, that I'd be a slave to Stanley in my own house and at work for the foreseeable future. So I decided to attend a local community college part time in the spring of the following year.

By that point, I had saved up enough money from working to be able to afford the two classes I was taking without having to worry about the cost of room and board.

Of course, I still had to keep up with the housework, my job, and "nanny duty", as Stanley called it, something that he had made abundantly clear. However, I was able to fit it all in despite the fact that I was exhausted even more than I had been the previous summer and by the end of the semester I thought I would drop dead from exhaustion.

Stanley wouldn't let up on any of my hours at the shop nor relent on any of the chores that I did, so I figured that if I wanted to continue going to school and not feel like a walking zombie, then I would have to make a major change to one or the other.

Luckily for me, an opportunity presented itself not too long into summer. I had been only looking for a new job for about a week before I stumbled upon a Chinese restaurant near campus that was looking to hire wait staff. I didn't have any experience working in a restaurant but I decided to shoot my shot anyway, figuring that maybe over a year's experience of working at the shop would count for something.

The owner was a stone faced old man who gave nothing away while his daughter interviewed me. Surprisingly, I didn't fumble any answers like I had at my first even interview with Mr. Gottlieb at his ice cream parlor. I guess a year of working under Stanley had steeled my nerves a bit.

After 30 minutes, they gave me a job as a busboy, promising that I'd move up to waiting tables quickly if I worked hard enough. The pay was decent but I was to be given a portion of the tips earned by the waiters.

That evening at dinner, I told Stanley that I would no longer be working at his family's shop, that I had found a new one elsewhere. I had expected the worst but he surprisingly didn't seem to care that much, shrugging his shoulders and telling me to keep up with the housework.

So I fell into my new job that summer, working hard like they said to be able to earn a spot waiting tables. Eventually, I was given the opportunity one night after a waiter quit unexpectedly, and I moved up from clearing tables.

Working as a waiter allowed me to earn more money from tips, and when I found out that the owner rented out rooms above the restaurant, I jumped at the chance when he said they had a vacancy. It was small and not in the greatest condition, but it was close to campus and affordable.

I moved in right away. Mom was sad to see me go. Stanley not so much. In fact, he seemed almost glad I would be gone.

"He finally got his shit together enough to move the fuck out," I heard him telling Stuart on the phone one day.

"With that little bitch gone, Julie can devote herself to being my full time slave," he chuckled darkly.

There was silence as Stuart said something.

"Nah, I'll just get her to quit her job if it takes away from serving me. I can always make some extra cash off of the videos we make if I need it."

I had shivered at that.

Mom was teary eyed the day I left, and promised to come visit when I had set everything up. But in the month since I moved out, she hadn't been over even once. I had suggested it several times, but she always had some excuse why she couldn't. She was either swamped with finishing up the wedding preparations or too busy "taking care of my boys".

In fact, it seemed like the only time I had any contact with her was when I initiated it, and even then, she took a while to respond to texts or started to sound impatient if I was on the phone with her for too long.

I tried not taking it personally, assuring myself that the isolation and exclusion I was feeling was all in my head. But now, looking at mom and Stanley happily posing with my little brother, I couldn't help those feelings bubbling up again, stronger than ever, and I'm suddenly reminded of the lonely nights spent in my shabby little room above the restaurant.

Even though the ceremony was small and filled with mostly family, the reception afterward was much larger, mostly due to Stanley's extended family as well as his douchebag friends, all of whom wasted no time in getting drunk and rowdy. Their lewd comments grew louder and more inappropriate as the night wore on and as the alcohol continued to flow.

I spent most of the night sulking at the table I shared with Stanley's obnoxious brothers, avoiding Stanley and his dipshit friends as much as possible. Although this meant I had to suffer through uncouth conversations that occurred amongst his brothers.

It was late into the night and I was sipping on some champagne when Stanley's brother Wade drunkenly plops down in his seat next to me. He had just finished a slow dance with mom and we both watched as she now danced with Stuart.

"God, your mom fucking hot," he slurs unexpectedly.

I narrow my eyes in his direction but don't say anything.

"You know Stanley let me fuck her for my 18th birthday, right?" He turns toward me.

I almost spit my champagne out and stare at him in wide eyed horror. He leans in closer, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol.

"He lets our dad fuck her occasionally, only when he hasn't gotten any poon in a while though, but he promised me I could have at her one night when I became legal," he drunkenly grins at me, proud of his sexual conquest of my mother and giddy from bragging about it to me.

"So I spent the night after my eighteenth fucking her brains out," he breaks out in laughter. "She was a little apprehensive at first but once she got my big dick inside her, she was screaming for it. We didn't sleep at all that night, I just boned her as much as I could until the sun came up. Lost track of how many loads I dumped inside her."