Birthday Party Entertainment (F/M, F+/M)
Posted: Mon Jul 10, 2023 3:48 am
"What were you thinking?"
Even by his standards, Colt Simonsen had never seen his mother so angry before, and though he would rather drink gasoline than admit it, he understood why.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question!" Mrs. Simonsen was yelling now. "What in God's name were you thinking?"
It may not have been a rhetorical question, but it was certainly a loaded one. They both knew full well that Colt hadn’t been thinking very hard. Colt had always been the troublemaker at his high school, especially because he wasn’t the sort of guy who thought too hard about possible consequences. Not until afterward, at least.
Colt folded his arms and stared resentfully at his mother. He might have been daunted by her fury for most of his life, but he was seventeen now; he has going to start Grade 12 two months, as well as his new position as captain of the soccer team. Although he wasn’t an especially brawny guy, nobody could doubt his fitness. He was very lean and very fast. His Nordic background meant that he had an angelic face, with blond hair and high cheekbones. Girls had always crushed on him, and he’d already become known at his high school as a ladies’ man and a heartbreaker.
Despite all that, he still couldn’t help but feel daunted by his mother’s wrath. Mrs. Simonsen had also been athletic when she was younger, and even done some modelling for a bit of time. Like Colt, she was proud of her good looks. Although she was as pale-skinned as Colt, Mrs. Simonsen’s background was Slovakian rather than Nordic; her black hair was cut in a French bob style, her eyes were wide and expressive, and she was normally a cool-headed and reserved person. Now she was anything but as she waited for Colt to answer her question.
"I didn’t think it was a good idea..." Colt began, lying as earnestly as he could. “But when the guys-” He might have said more, but his mother interrupted him, shaking her head in disgust.
"Of course. The guys, the guys, the guys. Always the guys." Mrs. Simonsen slammed a fist on the counter. “Two boys have already said it was your idea, and you pushed them into doing it!”
Colt gave a start. “That’s bullshit!”
“Why? You don’t think your friends would rat you out?” Mrs. Simonsen remarked sardonically. “Your sister heard them bragging about your big plan, you know. I made sure to tell Mrs. Biha, and their mothers too.”
Colt was shocked, but more than that, he was angry. Angry at those three idiots for running their mouths off, angry at his sister for snitching, angry at his mom for throwing him under the bus, and angry at Mrs. Biha for how she’d react to getting him in trouble.
Mrs. Biha was the toughest teacher in Colt’s school. That’s what some of the kids said about her. Colt was more inclined to say that she was an arrogant bitch who made trouble if any of the athletes weren’t meeting her uptight standards, and who was always trying to force her PC bullshit whenever and wherever she could. Worst of all, she’d used this PC attitude to claim that Colt’s history essay was ‘inadequately researched with no peer-reviewed sources’ and showed ‘an unhealthy bias.’ As if her shit didn’t stink or something. This made her the perfect target for initiation pranks.
Hazing had always been a part of soccer in Colt’s school. He’d gone through it, shown that he wasn’t a loser, and then he’d overseen the hazings on newer members of the team. The tryouts were supposed to be in September, but Colt already knew which guys he’d pick; his younger sister’s friends had older brothers who were going to join high school, and three of them were exactly the sort of guys that Colt wanted on his team, especially since his younger sister did nothing but whine about what big bullies they were to her friends. It galled him to imagine how happy she’d been to snitch on them, and also him.
“Fine,” Colt groaned, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, then. I’ll tell her I’m sorry too.”
"Sorry? You think you’re going to get away with saying sorry?” His mother suddenly started laughing, but it was clear enough that she wasn’t amused. “She's thinking of pressing charges!"
Colt froze. He knew that he was still a young offender, but this was one of his high school teachers. If Mrs. Biha pressed charges, then the other teachers would find out about it, especially Ms. Alfaro.
Ms. Alfaro was the only woman who taught gym at Colt’s school, but she was also the most senior gym teacher left after the former head retired. Assigning Colt his captaincy had been one of the last things he’d done before leaving, and Colt knew that Ms. Alfaro would only need the slightest excuse to take that away from him. She oversaw the soccer team, much to Colt’s disgust, and she had a lot of stupid ideas about how the players should behave. She’d made it clear that she would clamp down on the locker room talk, the pranks, and the jokes. Colt had always defied her as much as he could, even pranking her several times.
“She wouldn’t!” Colt protested, properly afraid now.
“Oh, she definitely would. But she says she won’t, but she has conditions,” Mrs. Simonsen responded. “You’re going over to her house and you’re going to help her as she sees fit.”
“Help?” Colt repeated, aghast. “For how long?”
“For the whole damn weekend, if she says so!” Mrs. Simonsen barked. “She’s happy to keep you over for the night, too, and if your attitude hasn’t improved, maybe I’ll let her have you for a week!”
Colt couldn’t believe his ears. His own mom was going to send him off to be someone else’s slave? “This is bullshit!”
“Not the kind of thing you should be saying right now!” His mother folded her arms, glaring balefully. She was utterly serious.
“Dad wouldn’t let you do this!” Colt shouted.
Immediately, he regretted saying that. His parents were in the middle of a bad separation. His father had been having an affair with one of his colleagues, and Colt had found out a full six months before his mother did. He still wasn’t sure if she knew that he’d helped hide that secret, because she hadn’t ever talked to him about it. He still wasn’t sure if she’d gotten harsher with him because she knew, or if she was just being a crabby ex.
“First off, your dad doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything,” Mrs. Simonsen answered coldly; her voice always lowered when she was well and truly angry. “Second off, I don’t know when you got this attitude about women, but I’m going to put a stop to it right now. I had a good long chat with your teacher about what sort of man you’re turning into. And frankly, all I see is an overgrown boy.”
She turned away from her son and walked towards the closet. “And speaking of ‘let’, I was going to save you from this particular condition. Mrs. Biha had a special idea to teach you a lesson, and I actually thought it might be going too far. But frankly, I think this might be a good thing after all.”
She took out a coat hanger, on which was hanging a Superman costume. It was the old Christopher Reeve style rather than the Cavill one, with bright blues, reds, and yellows included.
“Are you serious?” Colt was revolted; he’d stopped dressing up for Halloween when he was thirteen, and he’d never been dorky enough to want to wear a superhero costume.
“Absolutely.” Mrs. Simonsen threw the costume at him. “Get dressed for your big weekend, Super Boy.”
Colt wanted to scream. He wanted to rant and rage, he wanted to get out of the house and run away, or else barricade himself in his room. Instead, he forced himself to take the costume and go upstairs to get changed.
He looked and felt utterly ridiculous. The costume came in three pieces, which he wore over just his underwear. Tight spandex covered his legs and arms, the red cape hung down from his shoulders, the yellow S was emblazoned on the front, and he could barely bring himself to look at the red undie patch over his butt and groin.
Much to his fury, his younger sister Karla came home just in time to see him shuffle out of his bedroom, looking mortified.
Four years younger than him, Karla was an annoying little brat. She had pale blonde hair that she loved to dye different colours. These days, her hair was a bright shade of purple, and was tied in a strict ponytail. She had never once looked up to him like a big brother; she would complain about him, she wouldn’t listen when he gave her orders, she just acted out and threw tantrums whenever he tried to show her who was boss. Now she squealed with laughter as she pointed at him.
“Is it a bird? Is it a plane?” Karla asked mockingly.
“Shut up!” Colt snapped, but she just laughed harder.
“Come on, Super Boy,” Mrs. Simonsen ordered, shouting from the garage as she revved up the engine. “Get in here or I’ll make you walk to Mrs. Biha’s house.”
“I’m coming too!” Karla ran through the side-door which led to the garage, but not before pulling on eye down and blowing a raspberry at Colt. As a final insult, their mom happily opened the passenger door for Karla so that Colt would have to sit in the back.
With his sister’s laughter ringing in his ears, Colt stomped stone-faced into the garage and threw himself into the car. He leaned as far down in his seat as he could, cursing to himself as Mrs. Simonsen backed out of the driveway and began navigating the avenues and roads of suburbia.
“Here’s hoping that she can reach you,” Mrs. Simonsen continued; it was clear that she was enjoying her son’s humiliation.
It didn’t take long for them to reach Mrs. Biha’s house. The last time that Colt had been there, he and the three recruits had covered the property with a combination of eggs and toilet paper. They’d also covered her car with a layer of that stuff, and Colt didn’t fail to note that it was out of sight. But beyond that, the thunderstorms of the last two days had apparently cleared almost everything else away. ‘At least I won’t be cleaning up outside,’ Colt thought. It was the only silver lining that he could see in this mess.
“All right, Super Boy,” Mrs. Simonsen announced once she parked the car in Mrs. Biha’s driveway. “Have a good time!”
Ignoring her smirk and Karla’s taunts, Colt jumped out of the car and run up to the front door, pushing his finger on the doorbell as hard as he could. He didn’t even dare to look around to see if anyone was looking at him, though he did hear his mom and sister drive off.
Finally, the door opened, and Colt found himself looking at Mrs. Biha
Colt had always worried that he wouldn’t grow taller than his mom, but his last growth spurt had finally pushed him over her by a couple of inches. Mrs. Biha was still taller than him at six and a half feet. According to her, she was a Tutsi from Rwanda, though Colt couldn’t remember what that even meant. She had long black hair which she usually wore in tight braids flowing down her long neck onto her shoulders. She was in her forties, but she looked at least ten years younger. Her body was also curvy in all the places which Colt appreciated. He would never have admitted it, but he couldn’t help but find her a very attractive woman, but the awful part was that she sometimes seemed aware of his fascination with her. That made her self-righteous attitude even more impossible to deal with.
“Well, well,” Mrs. Biha announced. Her voice was lower than most women, with a strong accent that had made her difficult to understand when Colt had first met her. “Not every day that a superhero comes to visit.”
Colt was blushing furiously; he felt silly enough in front of his mother and sister, now he was standing in front of his teacher. He felt too embarrassed and angry to meet her smug, triumphant gaze.
“I’m here,” he mumbled, “so what do you want me to do?”
“Do?” Mrs. Biha might as well have been laughing, the way she was speaking now. “Now, that is a good question, young man. Let’s see if you can listen to me for once in your life. Come with me.”
She turned and walked into her house, up the stairs to the main floor. Colt obeyed, grinding his teeth and trying not to stare at Mrs. Biha’s generous rear. He had a feeling that if she caught him looking, she’d make his situation even worse.
At one point, she stopped in front of one door and pointed to it. “After you, Superman.”
Colt sighed as he stepped past her, turned the doorknob, and walked into the room.
A large queen size bed dominated the room, with two night stands on either side of it. Both had ornate picture frames with Mrs. Biha and a woman that Colt had never seen before. There was a closet which was open, and a costume was on the bed. Colt recognised it from one of the Black Panther movies.
He was still frowning at the costume when he felt Mrs. Biha’s hands on his wrists, pulling them behind his back. Before he could react, he felt cold metal click in place over both his wrists.
“Hey! What the f-mmmmMM!” His eyes widened as his mouth was suddenly stuffed with a nasty-tasting cloth.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Biha joked. “I discussed my plans with your mother; she gave me a pair of her gym socks to use on you. She asked me to tell you that she’s been wearing them four days in a row now, ever since we had our first chat about this prank of yours.”
Colt couldn’t believe it. He squirmed and struggled furiously, trying to get his arms free, but he was trapped. Mrs. Biha laughed as she easily held him in place with one hand, even as the other hand was clamped firmly over his mouth so that he couldn’t spit out the long, sweaty socks which now filled his mouth. He forgot everything about the situation he was in, and simply raged against his new bonds. But all his "MMMPH" talk did nothing but make Mrs. Biha laugh at him even more.
“I should mention,” Mrs. Biha remarked as she caught her breath, “You’re going to help entertain my girlfriend’s niece and her friends for a birthday party. And sad to say, they are all very big Marvel fans.” She giggled at the loud grown which escaped Colt’s mouth beneath her hand.
Even by his standards, Colt Simonsen had never seen his mother so angry before, and though he would rather drink gasoline than admit it, he understood why.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question!" Mrs. Simonsen was yelling now. "What in God's name were you thinking?"
It may not have been a rhetorical question, but it was certainly a loaded one. They both knew full well that Colt hadn’t been thinking very hard. Colt had always been the troublemaker at his high school, especially because he wasn’t the sort of guy who thought too hard about possible consequences. Not until afterward, at least.
Colt folded his arms and stared resentfully at his mother. He might have been daunted by her fury for most of his life, but he was seventeen now; he has going to start Grade 12 two months, as well as his new position as captain of the soccer team. Although he wasn’t an especially brawny guy, nobody could doubt his fitness. He was very lean and very fast. His Nordic background meant that he had an angelic face, with blond hair and high cheekbones. Girls had always crushed on him, and he’d already become known at his high school as a ladies’ man and a heartbreaker.
Despite all that, he still couldn’t help but feel daunted by his mother’s wrath. Mrs. Simonsen had also been athletic when she was younger, and even done some modelling for a bit of time. Like Colt, she was proud of her good looks. Although she was as pale-skinned as Colt, Mrs. Simonsen’s background was Slovakian rather than Nordic; her black hair was cut in a French bob style, her eyes were wide and expressive, and she was normally a cool-headed and reserved person. Now she was anything but as she waited for Colt to answer her question.
"I didn’t think it was a good idea..." Colt began, lying as earnestly as he could. “But when the guys-” He might have said more, but his mother interrupted him, shaking her head in disgust.
"Of course. The guys, the guys, the guys. Always the guys." Mrs. Simonsen slammed a fist on the counter. “Two boys have already said it was your idea, and you pushed them into doing it!”
Colt gave a start. “That’s bullshit!”
“Why? You don’t think your friends would rat you out?” Mrs. Simonsen remarked sardonically. “Your sister heard them bragging about your big plan, you know. I made sure to tell Mrs. Biha, and their mothers too.”
Colt was shocked, but more than that, he was angry. Angry at those three idiots for running their mouths off, angry at his sister for snitching, angry at his mom for throwing him under the bus, and angry at Mrs. Biha for how she’d react to getting him in trouble.
Mrs. Biha was the toughest teacher in Colt’s school. That’s what some of the kids said about her. Colt was more inclined to say that she was an arrogant bitch who made trouble if any of the athletes weren’t meeting her uptight standards, and who was always trying to force her PC bullshit whenever and wherever she could. Worst of all, she’d used this PC attitude to claim that Colt’s history essay was ‘inadequately researched with no peer-reviewed sources’ and showed ‘an unhealthy bias.’ As if her shit didn’t stink or something. This made her the perfect target for initiation pranks.
Hazing had always been a part of soccer in Colt’s school. He’d gone through it, shown that he wasn’t a loser, and then he’d overseen the hazings on newer members of the team. The tryouts were supposed to be in September, but Colt already knew which guys he’d pick; his younger sister’s friends had older brothers who were going to join high school, and three of them were exactly the sort of guys that Colt wanted on his team, especially since his younger sister did nothing but whine about what big bullies they were to her friends. It galled him to imagine how happy she’d been to snitch on them, and also him.
“Fine,” Colt groaned, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, then. I’ll tell her I’m sorry too.”
"Sorry? You think you’re going to get away with saying sorry?” His mother suddenly started laughing, but it was clear enough that she wasn’t amused. “She's thinking of pressing charges!"
Colt froze. He knew that he was still a young offender, but this was one of his high school teachers. If Mrs. Biha pressed charges, then the other teachers would find out about it, especially Ms. Alfaro.
Ms. Alfaro was the only woman who taught gym at Colt’s school, but she was also the most senior gym teacher left after the former head retired. Assigning Colt his captaincy had been one of the last things he’d done before leaving, and Colt knew that Ms. Alfaro would only need the slightest excuse to take that away from him. She oversaw the soccer team, much to Colt’s disgust, and she had a lot of stupid ideas about how the players should behave. She’d made it clear that she would clamp down on the locker room talk, the pranks, and the jokes. Colt had always defied her as much as he could, even pranking her several times.
“She wouldn’t!” Colt protested, properly afraid now.
“Oh, she definitely would. But she says she won’t, but she has conditions,” Mrs. Simonsen responded. “You’re going over to her house and you’re going to help her as she sees fit.”
“Help?” Colt repeated, aghast. “For how long?”
“For the whole damn weekend, if she says so!” Mrs. Simonsen barked. “She’s happy to keep you over for the night, too, and if your attitude hasn’t improved, maybe I’ll let her have you for a week!”
Colt couldn’t believe his ears. His own mom was going to send him off to be someone else’s slave? “This is bullshit!”
“Not the kind of thing you should be saying right now!” His mother folded her arms, glaring balefully. She was utterly serious.
“Dad wouldn’t let you do this!” Colt shouted.
Immediately, he regretted saying that. His parents were in the middle of a bad separation. His father had been having an affair with one of his colleagues, and Colt had found out a full six months before his mother did. He still wasn’t sure if she knew that he’d helped hide that secret, because she hadn’t ever talked to him about it. He still wasn’t sure if she’d gotten harsher with him because she knew, or if she was just being a crabby ex.
“First off, your dad doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything,” Mrs. Simonsen answered coldly; her voice always lowered when she was well and truly angry. “Second off, I don’t know when you got this attitude about women, but I’m going to put a stop to it right now. I had a good long chat with your teacher about what sort of man you’re turning into. And frankly, all I see is an overgrown boy.”
She turned away from her son and walked towards the closet. “And speaking of ‘let’, I was going to save you from this particular condition. Mrs. Biha had a special idea to teach you a lesson, and I actually thought it might be going too far. But frankly, I think this might be a good thing after all.”
She took out a coat hanger, on which was hanging a Superman costume. It was the old Christopher Reeve style rather than the Cavill one, with bright blues, reds, and yellows included.
“Are you serious?” Colt was revolted; he’d stopped dressing up for Halloween when he was thirteen, and he’d never been dorky enough to want to wear a superhero costume.
“Absolutely.” Mrs. Simonsen threw the costume at him. “Get dressed for your big weekend, Super Boy.”
Colt wanted to scream. He wanted to rant and rage, he wanted to get out of the house and run away, or else barricade himself in his room. Instead, he forced himself to take the costume and go upstairs to get changed.
He looked and felt utterly ridiculous. The costume came in three pieces, which he wore over just his underwear. Tight spandex covered his legs and arms, the red cape hung down from his shoulders, the yellow S was emblazoned on the front, and he could barely bring himself to look at the red undie patch over his butt and groin.
Much to his fury, his younger sister Karla came home just in time to see him shuffle out of his bedroom, looking mortified.
Four years younger than him, Karla was an annoying little brat. She had pale blonde hair that she loved to dye different colours. These days, her hair was a bright shade of purple, and was tied in a strict ponytail. She had never once looked up to him like a big brother; she would complain about him, she wouldn’t listen when he gave her orders, she just acted out and threw tantrums whenever he tried to show her who was boss. Now she squealed with laughter as she pointed at him.
“Is it a bird? Is it a plane?” Karla asked mockingly.
“Shut up!” Colt snapped, but she just laughed harder.
“Come on, Super Boy,” Mrs. Simonsen ordered, shouting from the garage as she revved up the engine. “Get in here or I’ll make you walk to Mrs. Biha’s house.”
“I’m coming too!” Karla ran through the side-door which led to the garage, but not before pulling on eye down and blowing a raspberry at Colt. As a final insult, their mom happily opened the passenger door for Karla so that Colt would have to sit in the back.
With his sister’s laughter ringing in his ears, Colt stomped stone-faced into the garage and threw himself into the car. He leaned as far down in his seat as he could, cursing to himself as Mrs. Simonsen backed out of the driveway and began navigating the avenues and roads of suburbia.
“Here’s hoping that she can reach you,” Mrs. Simonsen continued; it was clear that she was enjoying her son’s humiliation.
It didn’t take long for them to reach Mrs. Biha’s house. The last time that Colt had been there, he and the three recruits had covered the property with a combination of eggs and toilet paper. They’d also covered her car with a layer of that stuff, and Colt didn’t fail to note that it was out of sight. But beyond that, the thunderstorms of the last two days had apparently cleared almost everything else away. ‘At least I won’t be cleaning up outside,’ Colt thought. It was the only silver lining that he could see in this mess.
“All right, Super Boy,” Mrs. Simonsen announced once she parked the car in Mrs. Biha’s driveway. “Have a good time!”
Ignoring her smirk and Karla’s taunts, Colt jumped out of the car and run up to the front door, pushing his finger on the doorbell as hard as he could. He didn’t even dare to look around to see if anyone was looking at him, though he did hear his mom and sister drive off.
Finally, the door opened, and Colt found himself looking at Mrs. Biha
Colt had always worried that he wouldn’t grow taller than his mom, but his last growth spurt had finally pushed him over her by a couple of inches. Mrs. Biha was still taller than him at six and a half feet. According to her, she was a Tutsi from Rwanda, though Colt couldn’t remember what that even meant. She had long black hair which she usually wore in tight braids flowing down her long neck onto her shoulders. She was in her forties, but she looked at least ten years younger. Her body was also curvy in all the places which Colt appreciated. He would never have admitted it, but he couldn’t help but find her a very attractive woman, but the awful part was that she sometimes seemed aware of his fascination with her. That made her self-righteous attitude even more impossible to deal with.
“Well, well,” Mrs. Biha announced. Her voice was lower than most women, with a strong accent that had made her difficult to understand when Colt had first met her. “Not every day that a superhero comes to visit.”
Colt was blushing furiously; he felt silly enough in front of his mother and sister, now he was standing in front of his teacher. He felt too embarrassed and angry to meet her smug, triumphant gaze.
“I’m here,” he mumbled, “so what do you want me to do?”
“Do?” Mrs. Biha might as well have been laughing, the way she was speaking now. “Now, that is a good question, young man. Let’s see if you can listen to me for once in your life. Come with me.”
She turned and walked into her house, up the stairs to the main floor. Colt obeyed, grinding his teeth and trying not to stare at Mrs. Biha’s generous rear. He had a feeling that if she caught him looking, she’d make his situation even worse.
At one point, she stopped in front of one door and pointed to it. “After you, Superman.”
Colt sighed as he stepped past her, turned the doorknob, and walked into the room.
A large queen size bed dominated the room, with two night stands on either side of it. Both had ornate picture frames with Mrs. Biha and a woman that Colt had never seen before. There was a closet which was open, and a costume was on the bed. Colt recognised it from one of the Black Panther movies.
He was still frowning at the costume when he felt Mrs. Biha’s hands on his wrists, pulling them behind his back. Before he could react, he felt cold metal click in place over both his wrists.
“Hey! What the f-mmmmMM!” His eyes widened as his mouth was suddenly stuffed with a nasty-tasting cloth.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Biha joked. “I discussed my plans with your mother; she gave me a pair of her gym socks to use on you. She asked me to tell you that she’s been wearing them four days in a row now, ever since we had our first chat about this prank of yours.”
Colt couldn’t believe it. He squirmed and struggled furiously, trying to get his arms free, but he was trapped. Mrs. Biha laughed as she easily held him in place with one hand, even as the other hand was clamped firmly over his mouth so that he couldn’t spit out the long, sweaty socks which now filled his mouth. He forgot everything about the situation he was in, and simply raged against his new bonds. But all his "MMMPH" talk did nothing but make Mrs. Biha laugh at him even more.
“I should mention,” Mrs. Biha remarked as she caught her breath, “You’re going to help entertain my girlfriend’s niece and her friends for a birthday party. And sad to say, they are all very big Marvel fans.” She giggled at the loud grown which escaped Colt’s mouth beneath her hand.