The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.






Disrobing Mother - A Triology (A Nasty Girl Story)
Copyright (c) 1996
By Dafney Cecil Dewitt
______________________________________________________

Leaning against the smooth rosewood table, Tommy Drummond
looks down at the picture of Hartford-Abernathy Academy
for young adult men.  He sees an ivy covered castle built
with huge stones surrounded by formal gardens. The caption
under the picture says the academy trains the leaders of
tomarrow. Even at the age of 16, Tommy knows real leaders
do not depend on military boarding schools to insure their
success.  Real leaders create their own futures. Tommy
knows he needs a plan to deal with his mother.

Tommy is afraid.  He imagines his mother bent over the
rosewood table, her dress pushed up over her hips, 
panties down around her knees, with some strange man 
thrusting into her from behind.  He is terrified that
following the divorce, his mother, Mary Drummond, will 
sniff after other men like a bitch in heat. Tommy hates
the idea of his mother dating strange men.

He lets his eyes fall to the persian carpet, half
afraid that he will see his mother laying on the floor,
exhausted, with her legs splayed wide open. He forces
his eyes to roam to the far wall.  It is filled from 
floor to ceiling with bookcases.  These are his father's 
books, Charles Anthony Drummond.  He feels a lump form
in his throat. His mother, Mary, is in the process of
divorcing his father after an 18 year marriage. The 
books will be packed and shipped after Tommy is sent to
the military academy. It seems to Tommy, as if he is 
just another package to be handled, just another detail
to manage, for the divorce to be complete.  Unlike his
father, Tommy does not intend to be managed.  He belongs
here in the 12 room white Georgian house where he grew
up surrounded by four acres of wooded pasture.  He is 
determined to take control of his future.

The sharp staccato sound of high heeled shoes clicking on
the slate covered foyer announces the arrival of Tommy's
mother.  He hopes she will pass by the library and go
upstairs.  He needs time alone.  He needs time to think.
The clicking taps fade as Mary Drummond steps into the
library.  With an analytical eye, Tommy watches her cross
the room.  She is an attractive, tall, redheaded woman,
fond of wearing formal ankle length dresses.  She has
the errect posture of an equestrienne.  She is thin, but
prominent breasts help round out her figure removing any
doubt that she is female. There are wrinkles in the
corners of her eyes and mouth but no other signs of her
fourty years of age.  She is still wearing her wedding
ring.  Tommy knows this is for his benefit.  The ring
will come off as soon as he has departed for the Academy.
Catching another man will be no problem for his mother.

"Well, I see you found the Hartford-Abernathy Catalog,"
Mary says approaching her son cautiously. "What do you
think ?"

"I like the idea of building for the future," says Tommy
surprising himself as well as his mother.

Expecting a protest, his mother automatically replies
with a vague rebuttal.  "You need the independence and
being around other young men your age will help you
develop."

"I just hope I fit in," says Tommy looking up at his
mother with a worried expression.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," says his mother patting
the back of his head with her hand. "You leave tomarrow."
Tommy can almost feel his mother's heart skip with joy at
how easy it is all turning out.

After his mother departs on another of her errands, Tommy
uses her Sony camcorder to tape himself in her bedroom.
He sits in a corner chair, rubbing his crouch, unzipping,
and grabbing himself.  He stops dozens of times to change
the angle of the camcorder and adjust the zoom.  He looks
directly into the camera and talks to it as if it were a
person.  The things he says make no sense.  He is constantly
stopping and starting the record mode. In the end, with
the camcorder on full zoom, pumping furiously, he imagines
his mother teaching him the rules of chess.  The chessboard
is laying on top of her dress between her legs. It is
positioned wrong with the corner pointed in where her legs
meet.  He tries to tell her the chess board is crooked,
but she keeps pushing pawns into his mouth.  As the tips
of the pawns pass his lips, they turn to chocolate making
it impossible for him to protest.

After rezipping his pants, Tommy is on the telephone. Only
three of the four school friends he calls show up. Tommy
has bribed them into helping him make a video tape. If they
cooperate, he agrees to give them his comic book collection.

Using the Sony camcorder, he records the boys entering his
mother's bedroom and sitting boldly on her bed.  Their
focus of attention is a chair in the opposite corner of the
room from where Tommy masturbated.  A portable television
set sits in the chair, with the sound turned off, displaying
silent cartoons. Tommy stands behind television.  He prompts
the boys on what to say, to look at the television and
register surprise in their faces.  The boys squirm around
on the bed making innocuous comments.

Tommy knows about the failed investigations.  Private
detectives hired by both Mr. and Mrs Drummond attempted
to find evidence of infedelity or improprieties that might
impact the property settlement.  They were not successful.
Mary Elizabeth Drummond will end up with the house and
about four million in stocks.  Charles Drummond will keep
his Overseas Investment Business valued at about seven
million and the condominium in town.  Not all of these
monetary details have been resolved and the final papers
still have to be signed. According to the divorce attorneys,
these details could drag on for months.

Two weeks after Tommy Drummond has departed for Hartford-
Abernathy Academy, Mary Drummond, returning from a solitary
shopping trip, is surprised to hear her son playing the
piano in the music room.  His face reflects defeat and
resignation.  He stops playing when she enters the room,
but keeps staring into the sheet music.

"Tommy, why aren't you at the Academy?"
"I can't."
"You can't what?"
"I don't fit in."
"Do you need an increase in your expense account?"
"No, that's not it."
"OK, then tell me the problem," Mary says sitting down on the
arm of the piano bench and putting her arm around her son.

"Well, it's like this," begins Tommy.  He explains how the
other boys all come from very elite families.  Families with
generations of wealthy doctors, lawyers, coporate executives,
and political leaders.  The boys from these families form a
clique, a super elite at Hartford-Abernathy Academy.  Once
accepted into this group, your future at the academy is
assured. However, those not accepted are shunned in polite
but terribly effective ways with a code of silence.  Those
not accepted are ignored by the other boys.  They do not exist.
Not being part of the elite in-group makes matriculation at
the Academy virtually intolerable.

"Surely, there must be something you can do to be accepted,"
his mother interrupts him.

Tommy looks up into his mother's eyes before answering.
"I have been accepted, but first I must pass the initiation
test."

Mary frowns. "Dean Atkinson assured me that there are no hazing
initiations anymore at the Academy.  Hazing has been outlawed."

"It's not hazing, Mom."
"Well, then be a man, and tell your mother," Mary says
affectionately, patting the back of Tommy's head.

"It's simple.  I need to make a videotape with your camcorder,
return to Hartford-Abernathy with it, and I'll be accepted."

"Well," says Mary standing up with relief, "If there's any way
I can help you, just let me know."

"Actually, you can help," says Tommy.
"How?"
"The videotape is supposed to be about you."
"Me?"
"Yes, the other boys saw the picture of you that I took with me
to the Academy.  They think you're a very pretty woman."

"Well, thank you," says Mary who thinks she is very well preserved.
She has not had any male appreciation of her appearance since the
divorce.  Mary has been having self-doubts about her ability to
compete with other women.  It feels nice to be admired.  It feels
even better to be admired by your son's young college prep roommates.

"They want me to videotape you undressing," says Tommy with a look
of defeat in his face.

"What!"
"I knew it wouldn't work," says Tommy.
"Why would they want that?"
"Because I don't have a sister."
"So?"
"So, the other boys have to bring back videotapes of their sisters."
"Humm, I think I understand now.  This is sort of a candid camera
thing.  Catch the girls unaware.  A peeping boy videotape.  Am I
right?"
"Yes, but I wasn't supposed to tell you."
"What did they expect?"
"I was supposed to hide under your bed or in your closet and
videotape you without your knowing."  Tommy hangs his head 
down in shame.
Mary pats the back of Tommy's head in consolation. "You did
the right thing. Don't feel ashamed."
Tommy raises his head and stares into her breasts without
speaking.

Suddenly, Mary stops talking and leaves the room.  Tommy is
uncertain how to re-open the conversation.  All during dinner,
Mary looks at Tommy with long curious glances.  Her face is
a mystery. Does she pity him?  Is she trying to think up an
alternative to his initiation?  Will she go along with it?
It is impossible to determine.

After dinner, Mary asks Tommy into the library for a talk.  He
notices the furniture is re-arranged.  The books are gone,
replaced with a collection of handpainted plates, the rosewood
table moved to the far end of the room and a collection of
chairs placed in a semi-circle.  The entire atmosphere of the
room has changed.  In less then two weeks, it has become her
room.  When his mother picks up her wine glass, Tommy notices 
the pale white band of bare skin on her wedding ring finger. 
Tommy can feel his insides shaking.

Pouring herself another glass of white wine, Mary Elizabeth
Drummond sits in one of the chairs in the small semi-circle
and motions Tommy to sit beside her.  Rotating the wine glass
slowly between the fingers of her two hands, Mary starts
speaking.

"If you bring back this videotape, are you certain to be accepted?"
"Yes, absolutely."
"Who will look at the videotape?"
"Just the other boys.  Some of the other tapes of kids sisters
have already been recorded over with television shows."
"Do you want to do it?"
"I'm not sure.  It's up to you."
"Yes, but what do you want?"
"I'd like to do it."

As his mother pours herself a third glass of her wine, Tommy can
tell that the idea of disrobing in front of a video camera excites
her.  Or maybe it is the thought of other mother's kids watching
her.  He never considers the possibility that his mother might be
excited by disrobing in front of her own son.  Mary is finishing
her fourth glass of wine before making her decision.

"If your father were here, I would say no."  Mary says slowly with
the resolve of making a moral statement.  "As the head of the
family, the decision would be his and not mine.  You have placed
me in a difficult situation.  I want you to be accepted. I want you
to succeed at Hartford-Abernathy Academy.  You need to grow up into
manhood among other young men.  As a single mother, I can not give
you the same type of rearing."  She pauses sipping more wine, and
begins on a new line of rationale as if she has lost her train of
thought. "There's nothing wrong with disrobing.  Many families swim
in the nude or use sauna's without bathing suits.  In Europe, there
are nude beaches. It's all in the perception.  Will you think any
less of me as a mother if I do what you ask?"

Sitting in the library, talking with his mother, Tommy feels
himself getting aroused.  This is the sexiest thing he has ever
done. Still a child, planning to dominate a grown woman, his own
mother. Watching and listening to her mental struggle to accept
his demands intensifies his pleasure.  It feels like a surge of
pure energy, pure power sweeping through his body.  He remembers
his father talking about the thrill of power brokering. Of watching
business adversaries trying to make their actions justify their
vanities.  His father told him his mother was vain, spending hours
fussing with her hair, applying makeup, getting pedicures, and
facial massages.  He knows these things, but he has never felt
the sensation of mental domination.  It sucks him in, without
letting go, like a whore's mouth.

Reveling in the sensation, there is a long, silent pause before
Tommy answers his mother's question.

"I'll always love you as my mother," he answers with a vague
reassurance.  Tommy's heart is beating uncontrollably.  He can
not believe his plan is working.  It is incredible.

Mary Drummond takes her son, Tommy, by the hand and together
they go upstairs to her bedroom.  While she primps in front of
the bathroom mirror, he sets up the camcorder.

Mary Drummond looks stunning.  She has applied blue eye shadow
and eyelash liner to accent her green eyes.  Her red hair is
brushed out, shining with a burnishing glow that is complemented
by her glossy coral lipstick.  She is fully dressed with full
length coat, an irish wool muffler, and hat. She looks about to
depart for a formal concert on a winter's night.  With a nod 
toward Tommy, she asks, "Are you ready?" 

"Ready," says Tommy.

Mary begins silently as if she were alone.  Removing her hat 
and shaking out her hair.  She drops the hat onto the chair.  
She unwraps the muffler and drapes it over the back of the 
chair.  Turning her profile toward the camera, she lifts her 
leg resting her high-heeled shoe on the seat of the chair. 
She slowly unbuckles the tiny black strap crossing her ankle,
letting her dress ride up over her thigh.  Bending over facing 
the camera, she gives a fleeting glimpse of her breasts beneath
the top of her dress as she removes her shoes.  

Standing in her stocking feet, Mary slowly turns until she is
looking directly into the camera.  Flirting with the camera, 
she touches her gold hooped earrings as if she were viewing 
herself in a mirror.  She tosses her head smiling into the 
camera and runs the tip of her tongue over her upper lip.  
Tommy zooms the camera in on his mother's face just as she 
pouts her lips and says, "Do you want to see more?"

After a drammatic pause, Mary starts unbottoning the front of
her dress.  She continues until reaching her waist.  She stops
and looks up again, directly at the camera, and says "Are you
sure you want to see more?"  Her face breaks into a dazzling
smile.  With her right hand she loosens the belt around her 
waist.  She pulls it out of the belt loops with her left hand.
Holding the belt buckle with both hands between her legs like 
a golf club, she lets the tongue dangle onto the carpet. Gently
swinging it back and forth, she looks up into the camera saying,
"It's a long one."

Dropping the belt on the floor, Mary reaches up underneath her
dress, bending over, turning her buttom to the camera pulling
her pantyhose down to her knees.  Swiveling around to face the
camera, she raises her right foot directly into the lense giving
a glimpse underneath her dress.  Standing on one foot, she works
the pantyhose off her right leg.  Switching feet, the camera
gets a brief view of her panties, as she raises her left leg to
remove the pantyhose.  Mary bends over to pick the pantyhose up
off the floor and lay it over the back of the chair.

Standing up straight, Mary begins working her dress down over her
left shoulder.  With one side of her bra exposed, Mary teases the
camera saying "Oops! I forgot to unbutton my sleave.  Shrugging
her dress back onto her shoulder, she unbottons both of the sleaves
on her dress.  "OK, now we'll try that again," Mary says slipping
her one arm out of her dress and pulling her dress down over her
shoulder.  She repeats the process until her dress is hanging from
her waist with her bra fully exposed.  Hooking her thumbs under 
the the dress at her waist, Mary starts wiggling back and forth, 
seductively, to squirm out of her dress.  She stops. Looking into 
the camera, she says "Oops! You wouldn't want me to take off my 
panties too."  Reaching down, she pulls up the edge of her white
lace panties with her fingertips before continuing to pull her 
dress down her hips.  She lets the dress fall to her feet, stepping
out of it toward the camera.  Bending to pick up the dress, she
bares her white laced panties to the camera's unblinking eye.

Turning toward the closet, she opens the door and disappears briefly
before returning with a long single piece silk nightgown.  She holds
it up by the shoulder straps, gathers it together preparing to slip
it over her head.  Without warning, she stops and lays the silk 
nightgown down on the chair.  Shaking her redhair back and forth, 
she holds her index finger over her mouth and purses her lips as if
cautioning someone to be quiet and says, "Oh, you naughty boys.  
You want more don't you?"  She lowers her finger and hugs herself
craddling her breasts together above her arms for maximum cleavage.
"Humm! What do you think I should do?" Mary says rotating her 
shoulders back and forth while smiling coquettishly.

Tommy is lost.  He is transfixed by this striptease.  It has
gone far beyond anything he might have imagined.  Afraid of 
thinking of his mother in sexual terms, he stops thinking.  
Emotionally, he is frozen.  The camcorder is his saviour.  It
frames the actions, objectifying them, making them emotionally
distant.  The lens sucks in the actions.  Tommy activates the
zoom instinctively.  The recording is automatic without Tommy's
conscious participation.  On a deeper level, he conforts himself
with the knowledge that his mother is playing to the camera, 
playing to the unknown young men who she thinks will be admiring
her body, and not performing for him.

Slowly, with a deliberation filled with suspense, Mary uses her
left hand to push her right bra strap off her shoulder.  She turns
and loosens her left bra strap.  Turning her back to the camera,
she unhooks the back of her bra.  Facing back toward the camera,
bra straps dangling, she cups her breasts in the palms of her hands
to keep the brassiere in place.

Tommy does not remember his mother exposing her breasts, or letting 
the bra drop to the floor.  She wiggles the silken nightgown down
over her head before he regains his sense of time and place.

The following week, Mary Drummond is puzzled by the sound of young
men's voices coming from the Home Theater Room.

Her first fear that Tommy has returned is quickly dispelled.  Mary
relaxes recognizing the surround sound from the television set.
Entering the Home Theater Room, Mary Drummond is stunned by the 
picture on the television screen.

She stands frozen, watching something that she knows never happened.
Mary watches herself doing a striptease while her son, Tommy, is
sitting in a corner chair masturbating, and three of his school 
friends are lounging on her bed making encouraging comments.

She turns off the sound, but lets the tape run seeing something
that she knows never happened. The film repeats itself in a loop
before Mary realizes it has been cleverly edited.
  
Tommy Drummond walks into the room.

"You bastard!"

Mary Elizabeth Drummond presses the eject button on the VCR.
She drops the cassette to the floor and smashes it with her
high heeled shoe.  The black case breaks open with a loud
cracking sound of brittle plastic.

"Tt's just a copy, Mom"
"You bastard!"
"I'm your son, Tommy."
"Has your father, Charles, seen this?"
"No."
"Thank God!"
"But he might ..."
"You bastard!  The divorce papers haven't been signed yet."
"I know."
"Your father could end up with almost everything."
"I know."
"What do you want?"

Tommy wants to say he will destroy the videotape if his mother
lets him quit the Academy and promises not to date other men,
but his voice chokes up with emotion.

"I want you...." Tommy manages to say.

Tommy hangs his head down, his nerve lost, thinking he has failed.
His mother reaches out.  Tommy thinks she is going to strike him,
but she only pats him on the back of his head, and moves away.  
When he raises his head, Tommy sees his mother is starting to 
undress.

The end
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