Hands Off, Mom!byclinton09©
[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; STORIES HAVE A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS]
[Warning: the mother in this piece is quite demented; she will do anything to retain her son in her home, as in 'anything'. So, brace yourself and put on your seatbelt.]
I would like to tell you about my beautiful, loving, caring, well adjusted mother, my mentor in life. NOTE: I said 'I would like to tell you'. I can't. The main reason is that my mother was quite demented. She took love and devotion to a child and raised it to the nth power. I guess I have to start the story; I actually would prefer not to. Did you see the Giants game yesterday; man, I mean...oh damn, let's get started...
My father and mother made a mismatched pair. He was a businessman who was harangued by his wife, my mom, for not being successful enough. She complained that sales weren't growing, no new units were being built (it was a chain of restaurants he founded); no commercials were airing, etc. When he told her things were tight, and investors wary of expansion, she put down the gauntlet: He would act aggressively, bankers be damned, or she was walking. So, he opened four new units in marginal locations, they languished of course, funding evaporated, and he was done.
At the divorce proceedings, mom acted as if she was an innocent spouse, oblivious to his business doings. The courts awarded me into her custody; father, the poor simp, was ordered to pay her $4,000 per month, which was exactly $4,000 more than he was making a month. The ironic thing was—I wasn't even his son. Before her fascination with me, mom's concept of loyalty extended only to her detergent (Tide). She never did tell me who the father was, probably because she didn't know herself.
The divorce occurred when I was nine. Mom was 31. If I had been older, I might have noticed that mom was pretty damn hot. Five foot two, eyes of blue, Clairol blonde, little bit of a nose, ruby red lips, and a Hollywood smile. All of that was above a Pamela Anderson (in miniature) figure, with oversized breasts just barely fitting into her 36D bra. A narrow waist, shapely legs, slender ankles, and lovely smooth feet, completed the picture. Most mothers with a male child in their home would wear more and more clothing when at home so as to not warp their child, i.e. entice him into incest. Mom was quite the opposite; in my youth, she wore a simple green robe. As I grew up, the robe was draped over a hanger and she just wore a peignoir. At the climax of the tale, when I was fully a man, she wore absolutely nothing. But, I am getting ahead of myself.
At the age of nine, mom could not possibly have seen anything in me that was extraordinary. It was strictly her desire to not need the outside world for stimulation that had her invest so much in me, her developing son. To that end, she bought two weight sets and set them up for me in our basement. One of the sets was for kids, with weights ranging up to 20 lbs. The other set was delivered by the sporting goods store and set up, with tension or actual weights up to 800 lbs.
Though I was only an innocent nine year old, mom offered me a little Tastykake if I would indulge her and NOT go out and play. Instead, I was to go to the basement after school, watch TV as I played with the kid's weight set. So, I did (kids can be bought cheaply, just like grown-ups).
A typical day would see 8pm on the clock, and the sound of click, click, clang, as I worked away on the weights. By the age of ten, I had outgrown the kid's weight set and began zooming up in capability. Mom would check my progress, secretly holding a measuring tape in her hand, keeping tabs. When my progress zoomed forward, especially when I hit my teens, she got more and more interested, almost fixated on me. When my shoulders got to be the width of a football player and my biceps crossed the twenty inch barrier when I turned 18, she couldn't get near me without getting sopping wet.
All of these years I had been going to school. What with the weight lifting and nautilus training at home, it was natural that I would get attention from some of the fabulous babes in school. Arlene, one of the fantastic cheerleaders for the school, a real blonde with a full-sized Pam Anderson body, wanted to go out with me. I made the mistake of telling mom about it. She made me tell her all about us, down to each and every time we spoke. Mom told me to sit down on her bed. I did. She got up, took off her green robe, and was wearing only a diaphanous baby doll nightie. She asked me if that 'bitch' had a better figure than her.
I said, "No, mom, you have the best figure of any woman in the world "(I had been, what, brainwashed?) Truth be told, mom didn't have that young tramp's figure, but she still was pretty damned hot...
She had me feel her firm breasts, her flat tummy, and her smooth thighs. In spite of myself, I got hard. She saw her chance and said, "Jim, you will call this bitch, you will tell her that you are sorry, but that you will be busy on that day after all!"
I said, "Yes, mom, I will do that." I gave a last lingering caress to her incredible bust, just as she bent over and kissed me a long, passionate kiss.
This being my 18th birthday, mom was on her king-sized bed; I was watching TV wearing my pajamas. Mom got a call and handed it to me, glaring. I immediately recognized Carla, a lithe gymnast from the junior college I had started to go to. She wanted me to go to her party. It was a 'make out' party and no wallflowers or shy people were invited; could I come as her guest? I said, "YES! I will be there with bells on!" I hung up.
Mom said, "Just who was that tramp?"
I said, "She's a nice girl from school. She wants me to go to her party, a 'make out' party too! I bet I could collect quite a few kisses at something like that!"
Mom said, "Oh, kisses is it? Is that your grand quest, to collect a few pathetic kisses from some junior college white trash? Wow, look at me, I just got a kiss!"
I turned back to the TV, lying flat on my back, my head on a TV pillow. I sighed, "Oh, what's the use; just accept the fact that I am going out for once..."
Mom quietly panicked. She couldn't tie me up or nail me down. She would have to do something desperate to keep me. So, she did.
With me at 90 degrees to her, laid out at the edge of her bed, mom could use her gorgeous smooth bare feet freely on me. She did, her right foot, sporting a sexy toe ring and ankle bracelet, probed into my pajama bottom, reaching thru the front opening. Locking big and second toes around my now semi-erect 5 inch man's cock, she brought it out of the bottoms. Holding it upright like a tree log to be processed, her equally sexy left foot now came and keyholed that pole up and down. I stopped watching the TV and watched with fascination this drama. My cock went from a semi-hard five inches to a steel hard rod of twelve inches. Now mom's right foot went to my bull sized testes, feeling their incredible heft, shaking the huge reservoir of seed in them, and feeling their latent power. Meanwhile, her left foot was a blur, riding up and down my shaft like it was the piston in the mightiest racing car engine. When finally I came, I moaned very loudly, my head sagged to the bed, and my mighty cock cut loose an enormous spend which erupted in a long plume. The spend rose seven feet and travelled twelve feet, splashing noisily onto mom's dresser, the force of it upending all of the bottles there.
Mom set new rules for me. I would have to obey them all, or else:
1.I will not set a date out with anyone without getting mom's pre-approval.
2.I will not let anyone see my physique; only mom is allowed to see my body and touch it as part of her massage therapy.
3.If my love device happens to get hard when I am out of the house, I will immediately call mom on the cell phone, but only in my car as I return home.
4.If my love device happens to get hard when I am at home, I will, without discussion, locate mom in the house and insert that love device into her love slot, making love with her until my love liquid is empted inside her.
5.Though I will pursue my studies in school, with the hope of securing a good job, I will secretly have as my ultimate goal in life to satisfy mommy. If mommy wants me to lift weights and get strong, I will. If she wants me to lie down, offering my love device to her to ride, I will. If she wants me to make a puddle, a big puddle, of my love liquid inside her, I will. If she wants to build a big new nursery, and fill it up with children, I will.
Mom made me repeat these words twice, like an oath. She printed them out onto parchment, which I kept in my wallet. I had to read them at noon sharp, everyday.
Things came to a dramatic highpoint one year. I was attending the city campus of the state university, trying for a business degree. This foxy brunette saw me, was attracted to a guy with biceps about to burst the sleeves of his polo shirt and a unit about to rip his wool slacks. When she took a risk and kissed me, I backed away.
She asked what was the matter;
I told her I had to call my mother.
She saw me holding the parchment in shaking hands. She grabbed it. Most co-eds at that point would run off with it, making me the laughing stock of Facebook, MySpace and the entire campus. This young woman, however, was fascinated by this tale of oppression and domination. She wanted to help. She took me to the psychology prof who was her mentor, and he de-programmed me. For once, I was free of the conditioning and ready for new relationships.
That marvelous brunette, Marcia, wanted to drive home the freedom that I had won at such a frightful cost. She would go with me to confront my octopus armed mom, letting her know that I was free and clear of her.
We arrived, Marcia was revved up and ready to have a go at my treacherous mom. As I was supposed to be at school, mom was just wearing a frilly nightgown, doing house-chores. Marcia had not expected to be debating a woman in such a revealing outfit; when mom was silhouetted against the bright open window, you could easily see everything. To pretend to be respectable, mom quickly donned her little green robe to cover up.
Marcia shot the opening volley: "We have seen what you tried to do to your wonderful son, Jimmy, and we are appalled. I just had him 'de-programmed' professionally. He is free of your awful influence, your control. We just came here one final time to let you know that he was leaving you for a normal life, with me as his wife."
Mom motioned that we should all settle down and sit down. We all did. She excused herself, went to her closet, finding a dusty shopping bag with things she had collected and held in reserve, for just such a day as this.
Marcia resumed the tirade. "Your son is freed from your yoke, you sick, perverted bitch. No longer will he be a slave to your whims, or a sexual device, a love machine, for your own private pleasure. Those huge biceps, that enormous cock of his, they will now be used to entertain me, soon to be his lawfully wedded wife, and not you, you over-aged, over the hill, oversexed, swamp hag. So get on your broom, and ride out of town, you witch."
Mom was furious. Here this brunette had come into her home, stolen her son, and threatened to take him away and all that he represented. Mom had to resort to the 'emergency stash' in that dusty bag.
Mom looked at me, ignoring her completely thereafter. She began, "Jimmy, I don't blame any of this on you. I can see that this dark haired hussy aggressively took advantage of your kind heart, helping a woman like her who needed attention, deprived of love as she was. But, I am more concerned with you. Summer is coming on. I would hate to miss out on all that quality time that we would have together. I had made so many plans for the summer, just to make you happy. Do you remember when I told you about see-through sole shoes. You almost jumped ten feet when I showed you the pictures on line of those saucy babes with their sexy feet, completely visible top and bottom, wearing those see-through shoes? Well, I found a pair. Would you like to put them on mommy?"
Marcia said, "No, he does NOT want to 'put them on mommy'!"
To her amazement and disappointment, I moved her aside, fell to my knees. She handed me the shoe box, and then her gorgeous right foot, its toes painted the darkest ruby red. I kissed that lovely foot and then lovingly put the slide on. We did the other foot the same way. Mom stood up and modeled them, lifting the bottom up and showing me the clear sole. I found that so sexy I got rock hard. She then handed me a bottle of ruby red number 5, saying that my job this summer would be to do her toenails as we watched TV together. Finally, she handed me this bracelet. She said it was foot jewelry. She put it on, and it was like a jewelry shoe, wrapping around her tiny ankles and extending across her graceful foot to wrap around the 2nd toe. A jewelry shoe...
Mom commanded me to stand up, right in front of my fiancé. I did. She ordered me to open my pant front for her. I did. She pulled out this ten inch cock, about to spring to its full twelve inch glory.
Marcia watched in goggle eyed amazement; this tableau was more than she expected, perhaps more than she could stand.
Mom said, "You bitch, now you will see just WHO has the power over this masculine god." With no further ado, mom motioned for me to come forward. With the big, uncut, ending of my manly virile cock within inches of her, she grabbed that big knob and put it into the oven that was her ruby fringed mouth. She took most of my Olympic sized tool down her throat, and proceeded to go up and down it a number of times.
In a last act of desperation to save me as an independent person, Marcia grabbed me by the shoulder. She said, "Jim, please don't do this; you can do so much better with me. We can be married, and you can make love to me several times a week. You would like that, wedding, marriage, love making?"
Mom broke off her oral salute to my man-hood. Still keyholing it to keep its power and hardness, she told me, "You know Jimmy, if you come back to me, I pledge to you, all summer, all I will wear in the house is that jewelry shoe, and nothing else. You would like that wouldn't you, your beautiful mom, naked, all to yourself. If you were watching our state football team on TV and that nasty station showed those cheerleaders doing a hand stand again, you would get hard just like before. But, whereas other guys watching would have to crank themselves, you could just grab your naked mom, throw her onto the couch, and fuck the shit out of her."
Marcia cooed, "Jim, just think; your own legally wed wife; crossing the threshold, carrying your brunette treasure for a night to remember. We might even have sex after the honeymoon too. It all depends upon whether this new birth control pill is sold over the counter as they announced."
Mom retorted, "Jim, if you stay with me, you won't have to worry about nasty pills, clumsy rubbers, or anything. You can come deep inside of me, with no fears. If your wondrous seed, your virile sperm, happens to fertilize my egg, I will carry that precious child to term, and I will give birth. So, while this mousy run of the mill brown haired floozy would have you shopping for birth control pills, I would have you join me for shopping for cribs, basinets, and baby clothes. You wouldn't be shopping with that truckstop waitress reject but with your own beautiful blonde haired mommy. Mommy would be sporting a lovely swollen belly, her belly swollen with your baby, or babies. Everyone would look and see this gorgeous woman and the man who was lucky enough to sire life inside of her. While you could be collecting empty birth control pill blister packs with that barren bitch, you would prefer to be amassing a large family with mommy. Just think, we would have to go to the bank for a loan, adding a big new nursery onto our house. We could start our own baby boom. You would like that, wouldn't you? Mommy constantly pregnant, her belly swelling every year until it's brought forth its latest miracle. The house and nursery throbbing with new life, all a product of our love, the, what, ten children waiting to be fed. Two of them would be lucky enough to suckle my warm sweet mother's milk, while the others would be fed by formulae. Every day, you would watch them grow; knowing this tidal wave of humanity was all your doing, an incredible achievement all due to staying with your loving mother!"
Marcia made one last attempt to break the yoke that bound me. "Jim, I demand that you stand up to this insane woman. Go up to her and slap her, telling her that you are leaving!"
Like an automaton, I stood up, obeying the female voice as I had been trained to. I walked slowly toward mom. Seeing this, mom commanded, "Jim, this is your mother; this is MOMMY! I want you to go over to that dime store hussy and strangle her...to death. She tried to kill our relationship, our love. So go kill her, now, for me, right here."
Still like an automaton that had been re-programmed, I went over to that foxy brunette and put my powerful hands around her slender neck. As I was about to apply a titanic force, snapping it like a twig, mom said, "Stop dear. We don't want to harm that tramp. Why don't you just secure her to the chair? My robe next to you has a sash; you can use that to tie her hands to the back of the chair." I went ahead and tied Marcia up to the chair. Mom said, "Now watch, you tramp, as real love is displayed before your oh-so-common brown eyes."
Mom motioned me to come over. She stood up and had me remove what little clothing she had on. She disrobed me with amazing speed and deftness. Naked, we looked at the brunette, bound before us. Mom held me by my cock as she got on her back, pulling me on top of her and then into her private place with my foot long penis. Marcia watched in horror as I manfully gave it to my mother. Mother and son, fucking with wild abandon. Marcia could only see that magnificent rod, almost steaming as it emerged, just before being slammed back inside of mom's fertile vagina. Marcia looked with alarm as my testes, heavily laden with seed to the point of drooping, suddenly tensed up into their places alongside my amazing manhood. Then she saw a wave vibrate throw those enormous reservoirs of life-giving seed. Once, twice, a full ten times they vibrated visibly, the obvious result of those tanks of virility using my foot long rod to broadcast my seed all over the unprotected womb of my gorgeous, loving mom.
Mom stared at the guest as she felt my large uncut cockhead swell, and then emit a pint of semen laden with millions of lively vibrant young sperm, all eager to create life in mom. Later, she held me as the guest watched. For 30 minutes, to ensure pregnancy, mom had me stay inside her, plugging the hole. Marcia now expected to be released, but that was not to be. She was held in bondage until that new miracle home pregnancy test detected conception. We tested every six hours. Mom finally conceived, it turned blue, and we let her go.
If you thought that mom would finally be put away for false imprisonment, think again. Brilliant in all of her crazy plans, she had reported Marcia some time ago for 'stalking'. Marcia had indeed kept up a vigil, waiting for the chance to confront me when I was out of mom's clutches. With this complaint on the books, they did not believe Marcia's complaint about imprisonment.
Okay, did I ever break the chains and find freedom. Let's go ten years forward and see.
My mother was now 51 and almost as breathtaking as she was when I was nine and she was 31. Her breasts were still oversized, even more so after having had seven children with me. It was impossible, but those wonderful breasts, having had nine years of being used for breastfeeding, remained perpetually engorged with sweet, warm mother's milk, breastmilk. I can't be sure that that was the addictive substance that kept me bound to mom, but it might have been. I mean, watching TV with your mom, having the right to just open her nursing bra and take a big swig of delicious sweet milk, like melted ice cream, WAS quite a treat. And if, after taking a taste, I got hard (I always did), and got the notion that I wanted yet another baby, well, that was why mom was there. I shagged mom hard on the shag rug, many times putting her back in the family way.