Author: Lizard69
Title: Girlfriends
Part: Part 2
Keywords: Mb, Mdom, bg, ped
Summary: Role Play isn't just for kids, but they're fun too.

This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary between
fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes following the title
freak you out, don't read it.  If I mis-coded drop me a note through the
author email link at ASSTR.  Do not under any circumstances forward this
file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you haven't
figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do not allow
it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently downloaded it in a
jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please delete it immediately.
Do not re-post in whole or in part without this notice.  Do not repost on
any "for profit" site without my specific written permission.  Copyright
2012 by Lizard69.

   Girlfriends Part 2 (Mb, bg, Mdom)



   Thinking she'd be alone in the office Mary was a little startled when
she ran into Harold, the company IT person.

   "Hello, I didn't expect anyone else to be in today."

   "I needed to install some server updates.  Right now I'm waiting for the
database to re-index then everything should be good to go."

   "Oh, let me know when it's back on line." She started to turn away and
then had another thought.

   "Uh, Harold?, if you have a few minutes there is something I'd like to
discuss with you.  It's not work related.  In fact, it's personal enough
that unless I can be sure of your discretion I should probably keep my
mouth shut."

   "OK Mary, now you have me interested.  I maintain the company server
including email and web browsing logs.  Half the people who work here would
be at each others throat if I wasn't discrete."

   "I never thought about it before but can see what you mean.  First a
question.  It's sort of an open secret around here that you're gay.  Is
that true, or just inaccurate gossip you've chosen not to correct?"

   "Yes I'm gay.  It's really nobodies business, unless you were planning
to ask me for a date?"

   "I'm sure I know more than one gay man.  You're the only one that is
openly gay and doesn't seem to have a chip on his shoulder about it.  I
need advice from somebody comfortable with their nature, not someone hiding
in the closet or pushing an agenda.  Would you step into my office and grab
a seat while I explain?"

   "You've got me hooked."

   After taking a moment to get settled she continued.  "You've seen my
sons photo on my desk?  Recently he made a new friend.  Bob is in his early
twenties, about a decade older than Timmy.  He's more of a companion and
mentor than a peer.  One morning he stopped as I was leaving for work and
disrupted my routine enough that I forgot my purse.

   "I went back for it and got one heck of a shock.  When I walked in on
them..., well..., excuse me for being vulgar.  They weren't making love or
engaged in intercourse.  This pervert was *fucking* my son."

   "Oh shit!"

   "Uh huh, for several minutes that's about as far as my own thinking
went. They had time to finish before either of them noticed me standing
there.  My first impulse was to call the police.  I'd actually picked up
the phone before having second thoughts.  Instead I called in late and
spent some time trying to understand what was going on."

   "And did you...  understand that is?"

   "Perhaps...  a little...  I'm still trying to make sense of things. 
From what I've heard and read it isn't unusual for adolescent boys to
experiment.  This seemed more, I don't know, developed?  Besides the, uh,
physical side of it they were engaged in a sort of role play.  To me that
seems terribly sophisticated for a beginner.  He isn't quite into his teens
yet.  The only thing that kept me from calling the police was the memory of
my own first experience.  I was less than a year older than Timmy and the
boy was sixteen.  If we'd been caught he would probably have been waived
into adult court and convicted of statutory rape.  I'm sure a few of my
classmates were virgin on their wedding night.  I'm equally certain I
wasn't the first to misplace her cherry.

   "Is the experience similar for gay men?  How old were you the first
time? Do you think you were older or younger than average?"

   "I don't normally discuss these things, certainly not with a woman I
hardly know!  But, you seem to be making a sincere effort to understand. 
That's rare enough I'll do whatever I can to encourage it.

   "Most kids, especially boys, spend a lot of time on role playing games.
It isn't surprising that your son would use role play as a familiar way to
explore an activity new to him.  My first gay encounter was with a youth
group leader at the church I attended.  I was still in middle school.  He
was a high school senior.  I don't know how close to average I was.  I do
know that if I'd met him a year or two earlier it would have happened that
much sooner.  My first time with a girl was nearly a year later."

   "You're bisexual?"

   "No, I'm gay, but I could hardly know that without trying it with women
could I?  I don't believe there is such a thing as a person who is 100%
straight or gay.  The most hard core homophobic gay basher has wondered at
some point what it would be like.  The most outrageous flaming queer has at
some time or other had a little interest in a woman.  That most of us are
predominately one or the other really doesn't mean much.  In fact, I'd be
willing to bet some of the guys with a reputation as, 'ladies men', are
actually less hetero than some others with premature ejaculation problems.
Gay and straight are nothing more than convenient labels.  Keep in mind
also that they apply to preference not performance.  I can function with a
woman, but unless she's something special it generally isn't worth the
effort."

   "So you don't think I have anything to worry about?"

   "I didn't say that.  Worry is probably too strong a word.  What you
should be concerned about is this relationship crowding out more
appropriate contact with his peers.  Now that he's having sex with somebody
the biological pressure to get a girls pants off is greatly reduced.  If
the social pressure to do so also disappears it may be quite a while before
he has a chance to compare the two and establish a real preference.  On the
other hand, it could work the other way just as easy."

   "How so?"

   "Twelve year old boys tend to be pretty inept when it comes to women. 
Twelve year old girls aren't much better when dealing with men.  However
girls generally aren't expected to pursue the object of their affections.
The first few times a girl has intercourse about all that's expected is
that she *be* there.  If Timmy already has somebody he can go to for sex,
he may be a lot more relaxed and tolerant when some young lady leads him on
then has a last second change of heart.

   "Another thing to consider is the nature of Bobs attraction to the boy.
Is he homosexual or is he more interested in the fact that your son is
young?"

   "That I can answer.  Their current fantasy requires Timmy to submit to
sexual activity, 'as if', he were a girl of similar age.  While they both
refer to it as, 'being a girl', that portion of their relationship is
almost exclusively sexual in nature.  Also there is a strong domination
theme.  While his participation is completely voluntarily, the role he's
playing is that of a young girl submitting to a serial rapist."

   "Ok, so you know it's not going to be a long term thing.  As soon as he
begins to develop more adult male characteristics Bob will begin to lose
interest.  It's important that Timmy expand his own social net to include
other potential partners before he gets dumped."

   "What about the fantasy itself?"

   "It's almost irrelevant.  He's got a pretty solid grip on reality,
right? You're not worried about him leaping off the roof with a throw rug
because he's a level 38 Sultan with flying carpet privilege?"

   "No, but this is different."

   "Because the game is sexual in nature?  Have you really looked at the
artwork on the games he plays?  Due to the age of their target market there
is a limit to how explicit they can get.  The competition for players is so
intense the game designers crowd that limit pretty hard.  The artwork
itself may not be created by hormone crazed teenage boys but they're
certainly the ones it's aimed at.  Now he's involved in his first adult
oriented RPG and they're making up the rules as they go along.  It's
important that they share input while making the rules.  The critical thing
to be concerned about is that the game remains consensual.

   "So far that doesn't seem to be a problem.  I'm a little worried things
might get out of hand.  He's already asked me to teach him how to use
cosmetics.  Just lipstick and mascara for now but I doubt it will stop
there."

   "Excellent!  Oh, don't look at me that way.  It may progress as far as
costumes before they're through.  What's excellent is that he's coming to
you for advice.  If you're careful not to push, not to try telling him what
to do, if you give him only the support he's actually seeking, you'll be
somebody he can fall back on should things start to go wrong."

   "I'm not entirely convinced things aren't already going wrong.  However,
your suggestions coincide with my own thoughts on the matter.  Unless I
want to keep him under close supervision 24/7 I'm going to have to learn to
trust his judgment.  Trying to tell him what to do is worse than useless.
He's reached that age where if I tell him the milk has gone bad he'll chug
whatever is left in the carton."

   "You've got it.  Right now keeping the lines of communication open is
more important than anything else.  If you just can't resist the urge to
offer unwanted advice there's one trick that might help.  Ask him to review
with you the facts that have you concerned.  Then ask him to think about
how to handle it.  Make it plain you aren't trying to tell him what to do.
You aren't asking him to submit a course of action for your approval.  Then
let him know that you'll be around if he wants to discuss later how things
worked out."

   "That sounds like solid advice.  Thanks for taking the time to discuss
it with me."

   "You're welcome, just because I'm the I.T.  guy doesn't mean I'm
completely out of touch with real people."

   Timmy seemed a little more quiet than usual when she got home. 
Following Harold's advice started to pay off almost immediately.  She spent
the afternoon suppressing her urge to pry.  By the time they were finished
with supper and half way through some insipid sitcom Timmy couldn't keep
quiet any longer.

   "Uh mom?, can I ask a question without you blowing your top?"

   "Is it regarding things you and Bob do together?"

   "Yeah, I guess, well sort of.  We do lots of stuff together but what I
wanted to ask about is part of the role playing."

   "Timmy, you know I don't approve of that, but you're still my son and I
care about what happens to you.  The bottom line is that I care about you
enough to stuff my opinions in a bucket and try to keep an open mind.  What
exactly did you want to ask?"

   "Bob calls what I like best the, 'classic young girls rape fantasy'."

   "Uh huh, and what exactly is that supposed to be?"

   "That's where the kind of guy she'd like to be with anyway uses just
enough force to make her do all the things she enjoys but would be too
embarrassed to ask for.  He said the details are different from one girl to
the next but most of them play with a fantasy like that for at least a
little while.  It doesn't mean they want to be raped.  The fantasy is sex
with just enough force to be exciting.  The real thing is violence with
just enough sex to be embarrassing."

   "Well...  I've never heard it described quite that way but I wouldn't
call him a liar."

   "Today he asked me to try something different.  Bob called it the
classic rapist fantasy."

   "This ought to be interesting."

   "Somebody he wants to do it with says no.  He makes them do it anyway.
Whoever it is gradually goes from, 'please don't', to, 'don't tell anyone
how much I like it', and on to, 'don't make me leave already'.  I guess a
lot of the creeps like to believe they're so great in bed that if they can
make somebody do it, they'll enjoy it so much they won't be upset about
being forced."

   "That either makes a twisted sort of sense, or perfect sense to the
twisted sort of person who rapes people."

   "Yeah, well, he said doing it for real is a straight ticket to prison.
There's a tiny handful of people out there that would get into being the
victim of a real rape.  The odds that any one rapist will pick one of those
as a target are so small it makes Russian roulette look like a safe hobby.

   "Anyway, you know that he doesn't really force me to do stuff.  If I
tell him I *can't* do something he'll make me do it anyway.  If I tell him
I *won't* do something whatever that is doesn't happen.  See the
difference?"

   "Yes hon, I understand.  It's kind of a fine line but I guess that makes
for a sharp distinction."

   "To do what he wanted today I had to pretend that I was really being
forced, at least right at first.  He was a little worried that if we really
got into it I might say won't when I didn't intend to, or he might get
carried away and not notice such a small difference.  We talked about it
and decided, 'enough', or just 'nuff would be better if I really wanted him
to stop."

   "I guess you both have a little more sense than I've been willing to
acknowledge.  Did you have to uh, 'holler 'nuff'?"

   "Yes...  No...  Oh, I don't know...  I pretended to fight him and he got
a little rough.  That was Ok, sort of like when me and Billy are play
fighting.  Only Bob weighs twice as much as I do so it wasn't much of a
fight.  Some of the stuff he wanted me to say while he was doing it was
really nasty.  For me the whole thing was more creepy than fun.  Bob told
me after that it was more fun than creepy for him.  It wasn't enough fun
that he's in any hurry to do it again.  I can do that one if he wants it
but I'll be happier if he doesn't want it very often.

   "There was something else.  You know how sometimes something big happens
and you know it's big, but you don't know just how big until later?  Or
somebody tells you something important and later on you're thinking about
it and something you missed at the time makes it a lot more important?

   "After I got home I was thinking about what we did and there were a
couple spots where I should have said something.  At the time everything
was happening so fast.  Before I could decide something was, 'too much', he
was doing something else.  That's wrong, but not too scary.  I know the
word we agreed on before we did anything and I know what that word is now
but...  The more I think about it the more I believe that while he was
doing it I had no idea what to say that would make him stop."

   "That *is* scary.  Now you're feeling like maybe you really got raped?
Hon, I don't know how it is for men, but for a girl that's part of growing
up.  It's all about setting boundaries and making sure the guy you're with
knows what yours are.  I'm sorry this happened to you but sometimes the
knowledge of where your personal line is comes from finding yourself on the
wrong side of it.  If nothing else, it should make you a little more
careful when you're with a girl.  You're a lot less likely than most guys
to be accused of date rape."

   "Uh, thanks, I guess.  Now all I need is a girlfriend."

   "Well, get one."

   "It isn't that easy."

   "Do whatever you want but there is something you might want to think
about hon.  Right now the gender ratio for you is about fifty-fifty.  Girls
mature a little faster.  I can guarantee there are a *LOT* more twelve year
old girls looking for a boyfriend, than boys looking for a girl.  In a
couple of years you'll be competing with all the other guys.  On a related
note, I have to go to the mall for some things tomorrow.  If you want to
girl watch or just hang out, you're welcome to ride along."

   They were hardly into the mall before Timmy stopped as his mom turned to
go into a store.

   "I can't go in there!"

   "I suppose a lingerie shop *is* a little, 'out there', for a twelve year
old boy.  This is also where I buy my cosmetics.  If you're not interested
in watching women decide whether or not they want to wear something frilly,
I can shop for both of us and meet you later at the arcade."

   He was half way there before he quit blushing at the idea of his mom
shopping for him in that place.

   The town was pretty small.  Kids didn't have a lot of places to hang
out. Somebody he knew from school was always at the arcade.  He was a
little surprised to find Debbie there.  He'd felt uncomfortable being
around her since that day at the bus stop.  Now that he had his own
experiences with an older pervert it was even worse.  Still, when she asked
him to play air hockey he didn't try too hard to find a reason to refuse.

   Normally he was fairly good at the game but today he didn't stand a
chance.  She was wearing shorts and a halter that would be snug when her
top developed a little more.  Right now it was loose enough that any time
she bent over his eyes drifted away from the puck to pair of perky little
tits topped with puffy nipples.

   Straightening up after the final goal she said, "Well, you lost the
game, did you enjoy the show?"

   Flustered, he ducked outside but his mom was going to meet him here so
he really couldn't go far.  A short while later he heard a soft voice
behind him.

   "Timmy?  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to embarrass you.  I know you don't
like me.  Don't be mad at me.  Please?"

   "Why do you think I don't like you?"

   "You're always avoiding me.  Especially since that day waiting for the
bus.  I guess I said too much."

   "We asked you and you answered.  I, uh, I thought that was kind of
cool."

   "Yeah, well, I don't think I'll do that again.  Everybody was treating
me like some kind of freak because he did stuff to me.  Almost like I died
and came back or something.  It was like the big question that everybody
wanted to ask, but you guys were the only ones who had the guts.  So I
answered your questions.  Now half the people I know act like I'm some kind
of slut while the others still think I'm a freak."

   Her eyes started leaking, he reached out to touch her shoulder, and
suddenly found himself with his arms around her as she softly sobbed
against his neck.  It didn't take too long for her to regain some control.
The way she froze when he shifted told him she knew it wasn't a roll of
quarters in his pocket.  While she pulled away a little she didn't let go.
After a minute she broke the awkward silence.

   "Sometimes I wish I'd never said anything."

   "I's not your fault.  We asked."

   "I don't mean then.  Earlier.  I wish I'd never told anyone that he did
anything.  I was too embarrassed to say anything the first time.  I thought
maybe it was just a one time thing and it was over.  Then he did it again.
The third time I knew that he was going to keep on doing it until somebody
made him stop."

   "So you told?"

   "Sort of, I didn't really mean to, or maybe I did.  I told my best
friend at a sleep over after making her swear to keep it a secret.  She
told her mom, who called the cops.  I'm not mad it her.  I guess I knew
she'd tell."

   "They made him stop?"

   "I guess.  He's in jail for at least another six months.  He isn't doing
anything with girls."

   "But, if you had like a, 'do over' , you wouldn't tell?"

   "Maybe.  I don't know.  It wasn't romantic, not like having a boyfriend.
The guy was older than my dad.  It wasn't even fun, for me anyway.  He
seemed to like it...  a lot.  Some of it hurt and all of it was super
embarrassing, but..."

   "But what?"

   "Why should you care?  You don't even like me."

   "I like you.  But if I tell you why I've been avoiding you, you'll think
I'm a creep."

   "If you're avoiding me anyway why would that matter?"

   "Ok.  Back when you were telling us what he did I, uh..."

   "You got hard, just like the other guys.  I noticed, no big deal."

   "Yeah, well, when you told us that perverts do it to boys too..."

   "You stayed hard.  The other guys didn't.  Ok, that's a little creepy,
not the first part.  If I'm talking about a pervert doing sex with me, and
you're *not* thinking about sex, that would be creepy.  If you're
embarrassed about getting hard just thinking about a pervert doing stuff to
you, maybe you can understand why boys don't tell when it happens to them."

   "So, you want to be friends?"

   "Maybe.  Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

   "Uh, would you?  Be my girlfriend that is?"

   She didn't answer in words but the way she pressed herself against him
sure didn't feel like no.  By the time Mary picked him up they'd exchanged
phone numbers and made plans to meet again next weekend.  It wasn't until
he was helping Bob clean cages on Monday that it occurred to him, not
everybody might be happy he had a new friend.

   "So, my girlfriend has a girlfriend.  You gonna tell her how hard you
get when I'm fucking you?  Will you compare notes on being a horny little
slut?  Are you done playing games with me?"

   "I still want to do stuff.  I didn't think you'd be mad at me."

   Bob sighed and continued in a softer tone.  "I'm not mad at you.  What
we do wasn't going to be a long term thing anyway.  Besides, you might
discover you'd rather catch than pitch.  I can always hope."

   "I guess.  We're almost done here.  I brought my glove if you want to
play catch."

   Bob finished coiling the hose and followed Timmy in where the buckets
were stored.  The boy wasn't quite so innocent as he'd been a few weeks
earlier.  When Bob tried to sneak up behind him Timmy turned and wrapped
his arms around the older mans neck.  There was something different.  Even
though he was expecting it, hell, he'd suggested it, it took a moment for
him to figure out what it was.

   "Ok, ya got me.  I wasn't far enough behind for you to put on lipstick
just now.  How long were you wearing it before I noticed?"

   *****

   "So?  What happened then?"

   "Mom!"

   "Well, I'm curious.  You don't have to tell me anything.  You didn't
have to get me involved at all.  But you asked me to show you how to apply
it.  Then you voiced some hesitation about wearing it.  Did it really turn
out to be the big thing you thought it would be?"

   "Oh...  You meant the lipstick."

   Timmy was sitting at the kitchen table.  Talking this way was still new
enough for both of them that they were working as much on how to say it as
what was said.  Bringing things up as she finished getting dinner ready had
worked well enough the first time that he'd continued it.  Some things were
easier to say to her back, especially if she had at least a little of her
attention focused on something else.

   Now Mary was glad to have something to cover her own discomfort.  She
recalled a time back in college when she and her roommate were both between
boyfriends.  One evening they'd shared a jug of cheap wine and some weed
while watching a gay porn video.  At the time they'd talked semi-seriously
about being open minded and non-judgmental.  Actually it was more simple
curiosity, at least at first.  By the end of the night she was certainly in
no position to pass judgment on anyone else's sexual preferences!  If Ellie
hadn't been such a total dick addict it might have become a regular thing.

   She'd been less innocent than many women when she walked in on her son
and his...  his what?  Any attempt to define their relationship in terms of
what they were doing required her to...  well...  She'd been telling the
literal truth about preferring a decent level of ignorance.  That video
years ago had been both amusing and strangely arousing.  But...  not her
*son*!  My God!  He was still a little boy.  He should be building models
and playing children's games.  She was hardly prepared for him to begin
noticing girls.  To have him doing this...  and mistakenly thinking she
wanted to quiz him about it!  At the same time she wanted to protect him
and realized that ignorance was not her friend.  She hadn't reached her
present position by shirking tedious or unpleasant details.

   "It was...  different.  Not the big deal I thought it would be, just
different.  I thought he was being really cool about it at first until I
found out he didn't notice I was wearing it.  After he noticed...  It's
hard to explain.  It's not like he was ready to jump on me every second. 
It wasn't even like when he lets me know it's, 'girlfriend time'.  But we
weren't just a couple of guys hanging out either."

   "What are you?  Usually?  I mean if we're standing in the driveway
talking and a neighbor walks up.  I can't just say this is Bob, my sons,
uh...

   "I don't know.  We talked about him being one of those, 'big brothers',
like in the TV commercials.  But if I'm being a girl that would make me,
like, his little sister..."

   "Stop!  I have a hard enough time not thinking about what you're already
doing.  I don't want to have to not think about that too."

   "I guess.  What do you call one of those guys that teaches kids?  Not
the classroom teacher, one on one?"

   "A tutor?"

   "Not that, the other one."

   "A mentor?"

   "Yeah, that's it.  I'm learning all sorts of stuff from him, not just...
you know."

   Mary thought it over for a minute.

   "Ok, that works for me too.  Uh, on the lipstick, does it look like it's
going to be a regular thing?  Should I buy you a tube in that shade?"

   "I guess.  It's kind of weird.  It isn't exactly hot but it's like a big
step closer to getting hot."

   "Uh-huh, I'd call it edgy.  Not horny yet, but like you could get horny
real fast."

   "That's it.  Uh, is that like a girl thing?  The guys I know, they talk
about this girl or that one being hot.  And, you know, wanting to do stuff
with her.  They never say anything about how fast they could get hot if
they had a chance to do something."

   "It might be.  I've never been a boy.  Listen hon, I'm glad I had you,
every day of my life.  Being a parent is the biggest thing that has ever
happened to me and I wouldn't give it up for anything.  But it isn't easy
and sometimes the hardest part is learning how to let go just enough for
now.

   "I carried you around inside me for nine whole months.  When I brought
you home from the hospital setting you down and walking away for a minute
was tough.  For a couple of years it seemed like you had another, 'first',
every time I blinked.  First time you rolled over, first time you slept
through the night, first word, first solid food, first crawl, first time
you stood up, first steps, after a while it slowed down.  But the firsts
got bigger, first time you crossed the street by yourself, first best
friend, first two wheeler.

   "All of those things had a risk of getting hurt.  Some of them I knew
you *would* get hurt.  But I knew I had to let you.  I couldn't keep you
bundled up in bubble wrap without smothering you."

   "You tried!"

   "I'm sure sometimes it seemed that way.  Maybe you're even right.  But
now you're reaching an age where I'm like a mother hen trying to raise a
baby duck.  My mom had it a lot easier."

   "How's that?"

   "She was raising an only daughter.  When I got old enough to be
interested in boys, she could tell me the things a girl needed to know
about them.  When a boy finally, uh, 'made me a woman', mom wasn't the
first one I told but it didn't stay a secret from her for long.  If I
hadn't walked in on you and Bob I don't think you would have said anything
to me about it."

   "It wasn't going on very long before you found out.  But yeah, it isn't
the kind of thing a guy tells his mom about.  It isn't something I'd tell
my friends or dad either if he was still alive.  Did you really talk to
your mom about doing it with guys?"

   "Yes.  There's something else I guess I should tell you.  After I found
out, I asked a gay man I know some questions.  So he knows about me walking
in on you."

   "MOM!!!"

   "Just for the record, he doesn't think you're gay.  He told me my
biggest concern should be making sure you don't let this thing with Bob
crowd out friendship with other people.  Sooner or later you'll get dumped
and when that happens it will be a lot easier if you don't feel like you're
losing your only friend.  What do you think?"

   "Billy will be back from visiting his uncle in another week.  Debbie
wants me to meet her at the mall on Sunday.  Bob told me I can hang out
there as much as I want but I don't *have* to go there at all."

   "Ok hon.  For now I guess that's about the best I can hope for."


   End Part 2