A woman, abused by her son, looks for a way out.
I wiped the tears from my eyes as I stood there alone on the sidewalk. Alone, aside from the usual Tuesday morning foot traffic. Men and women walking to work or appointments, not a care in the world outside their own selves. I could feel the fear clenching my insides, afraid he was in the crowd, afraid he’d see me, afraid he’d find out. But I knew he couldn’t. He was at work, just starting to walk his beat across town.
I looked down the stairs that led to the lowered entrance just off the sidewalk. Even on a bright spring morning, the entrance was blanketed in shadow. I cast another glance around the semi busy street before starting down the stairs. Dark purple curtains were drawn closed behind the window beside the door. The wooden sign in the window simply read “Lady Swift.”
The hinges made a small squeak as I opened the door and stepped inside. I pushed through the strands of crystals that made a curtain just inside the door. It was dim inside, lit only by dozens of candles placed about the room. The candlelight illuminated the woman sitting behind the table in the center of the small room. She was young, maybe in her mid twenties, the same age as my son. Her long blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She was nothing like I had expected.
“Come in and sit,” the young woman said. She motioned to the chair across from her. My heart was racing as I walked to the table and sat down. I flinched and tried to ignore the soreness and dampness between my legs. The table was covered with a dark purple cloth that matched the curtains. “Relax, Donna. I’m here to help.” Startled, I looked over at her. I hadn’t told her my name.
She smiled and reached across the table toward me. Her smile relaxed me, and I took her hands without thinking. “How did you,” I started. “How did you know my name?”
“It’s a gift.” She squeezed my hands gently, her eyes never leaving mine. Her smile shifted and I saw a sadness cross her face that seemed to mirror my own. “It’s your son,” she said. “He’s the one hurting you.” I nodded, not having the words. “You want help. You want a way out.” Again I nodded.
“I will need something from him, and from you.” As she spoke, she pulled a small black velvet pouch toward her that had been sitting on the edge of the table. “A hair, a drop of blood.” She sorted through some things in the pouch as she spoke, then pulled out a small silver amulet on a fine silver chain.
“I don’t know if I have anything like that of his.” I spoke hesitantly. “But I can get something.”
“Or his cum,” she continued, once again locking her eyes with mine. Her eyes flicked downward.
“Oh,” I said, once again feeling the dampness between my legs, the dampness of my own son’s cum inside of me.
“It’s ok Donna,” she smiled and stood up, walking toward me. “Let me help.”
“Um,” I stammered, my heart racing as she neared me. She leaned down toward me, her face close to mine. She smelled of lilac and roses. “Please.” I barely got out the word as her hand moved up my thigh and under my skirt. I hadn’t bothered putting my panties back on after my son had torn them off of me less than an hour before. I closed my eyes as her fingers gently entered me. Gentle was not something I’d known for nearly longer than I could remember. Her fingers were slender and curled inside me. I quivered as she brushed my g-spot. I gasped as she removed her fingers. Why did she have to stop? She raised her hand, holding her glistening fingers up between us.
“Perfect,” she said, giving me a quick wink and returning to her chair. “I have all I need of you both.” she picked up the amulet and rolled it around in her fingers, coating it with my son’s cum and my own juices.
“What can you do?” I managed to get out after a few moments. “I just want him to stop.”
“I am giving you a way out, Donna.” She began massaging the glistening mixture into the amulet, rubbing it between the palms of her hands. She placed the amulet in the palm of her hand and held it out to me. “Give me your hand. Place it on top of mine.” I reached my hand out and covered hers. She closed her fingers around my hand, trapping the amulet between our hands. I could feel the stickiness of it. “Now close your eyes, Donna.” She closed her eyes and I did the same.
I don’t remember what happened after that. The next thing I remember was her standing behind me, clasping the silver chain around my neck. She tucked the silver amulet into the neck of my blouse, her fingers lingering a moment to caress the curve of my full mature breasts.
“Keep this on you,” she whispered, leaning close. Her breath on my neck and ear was intoxicating. “It will give you a way out.” I shivered as she removed her hand from my cleavage and stood up. She took my hand and helped me to my feet. She guided me toward the door, holding the crystal strands open for me. “Good-bye Donna.” She smiled at me one last time before I turned to the door and stepped out into the bright morning.
**********
I sat at the dining room table turning the amulet over and over in my hand. I hadn’t taken it off, and the silver chain lay cold around my neck. It was nothing special to look at. A silver disc about the size of a quarter and maybe twice as thick, with strange carvings that resembled vines on both sides and around the edges. How could this help me? How could a stupid necklace get me away from my son?
The abuse had started more than ten years before, shortly after the death of my husband. He was a good man who had died of unknown causes in his sleep at the young age of thirty-seven. A month later, my fifteen year old son, Jon, forced himself on me for the first time.
I’d just gotten home from my yoga class, and was sitting in my husband’s chair in the living room when Jon got home from school. I knew he was upset about something, the way he slammed the front door and stormed in. He just stood there at the edge of the living room looking angry. His dad usually handled him when he got this way, but he was no longer with us.
“Jon? Are you ok?”
“Fine, mom!”
“Why don’t you come in and talk to me? What happened?” He glared at me a moment then came in and sat down on the coffee table in front of me. I leaned forward, smiling and trying to get him to relax. “What is it, Jon?”
He sat there silent for a moment, then I saw his eyes flick downward, obviously noticing my cleavage. I had forgotten that I was still wearing a tight, low-cut tank top and no bra, my usual yoga attire. I sat up a bit, but his eyes followed my breasts. I was beginning to get uncomfortable when finally he spoke, his eyes still not moving off of me.
“It’s Jenna,” he said. “She dumped me.” Jenna was his girlfriend, but they’d only been going out for about a month.
“Oh, I’m so sorry baby,” I said, leaning forward again. This time placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Did she say why?” He looked up into my eyes briefly before dropping his gaze back down to my breasts. I tried to ignore it and he finally went on.
“She just said she didn’t wanna be with me,” he said. “But I know for a fact she was at a party Saturday night when she told me she was sick. Jimmy told me she was drunk and sucking guys off in the bathroom all night. When I told her I knew what she did, she said she wanted to be with every other guy in school, but not me.”
“Oh, baby,” I said, leaning forward and giving him a hug. “It’s gonna be ok.” I felt him return the hug and just hold on, like he used to when he was little. My heart melted a bit. “It’s gonna be ok,” I repeated, pulling back a bit and looking him in the eyes. I was completely unprepared when he leaned in and kissed me hard and full on the mouth. After a moment’s shock I pulled back from him.
“Jon! No!” I said. “I’m your mother! You can’t do that!”
“Fuck!” he yelled, pushing me away. I fell back against the chair and slid off onto the floor. “No one fucking wants me!” He stood there towering over me, staring down at me. I was shaking, afraid. I’d never seen him like this before. I started to scoot away, then I saw something in his eyes click as he followed me.
“Fuck this,” he said. His voice had become eerily calm. “I’m not waiting anymore. Jenna wouldn’t give it up for me, so I’m taking what I want.” I kept backing up as he reached down and grabbed my tank top.
“Jon! Stop!” He backhanded me hard across the face before ripping my tank top off over my head. I fell back, my head striking the coffee table. My eyes were swimming. I turned over and tried to crawl away from him.
“Always teasing me with those fucking tits,” he mumbled, slapping my tank top across my exposed back. He grabbed my hips, yanking my yoga pants down to my knees. “And this fat ass of yours.” He slapped me hard across the ass. “Begging me to take you.”
One more brutal pull and my pants were down around my ankles. My shoes were still on, so the material was bunched at my feet. I tried to crawl away, my ass and tits exposed, but he grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me across the carpet. My tits burned as they slid hard against the carpet, the first of countless rug burns I’d receive.
“Stop fighting,” he said, flipping me over onto my back. I tried to cover myself, but he slapped my hands away. “I know you’ve wanted this. All you fucking whores want this.” He kicked my knees apart and knelt between my legs. I tried to push him away and he grabbed both my wrists with one hand, pushing them over my head.
“No! Jon!” It was then I realized his pants were off. How had that happened? He was leaning over me and I could feel his cock on my tummy. He pulled back and I could feel him ramming his cock at me, trying to penetrate me. Trying to rape his own mother!
“Fucking hairy bitch,” I felt his fingers spread my lips and guide the head of his cock into me. “Teasing me my whole fucking life.”
The head of his cock entered me and I screamed. I hadn’t seen him naked since he was little, and never hard. He was a monster, so much bigger than his father. He shoved his cock into me, not caring that I wasn’t wet. I felt something inside me tear and I screamed again, begging him to stop. But he wasn’t hearing me.
“Fuck. This. Cunt. Is. Mine.” He pounded into me with every word. I screamed and begged, but I was helpless beneath him. Helpless, as I lay there being raped by my own fifteen year old son.
**********
The sexual assaults, the rapes, by my son continued for the next several years until he graduated high school, sometimes once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. The abuse slowed down when he went off to the academy, and slowed even more when he married his wife. But then he accepted a job with the police force in a division across town. John and his wife Emma moved into a house only a couple blocks away about a year ago, and the abuse started again. This time even worse than before.
Lost in thought, and wondering how the silver amulet could help me, the sudden sound of a key turning the lock in the front door made me jump. I quickly tucked the amulet back under my blouse. Most days, Jon stopped by after he finished work, before he went home. The hope that he’d skip today, since he’d fucked me already this morning, crashed away in a wave of fear.
I heard the front door shut and a moment later he entered the dining room. He’d actually grown into a handsome young man, more filled out than the scrawny youth who had first raped me. He was tall and broad shouldered with close-cropped dark hair. He was clean shaven with a strong masculine jaw, much like his father’s. If he hadn’t been my son, and such an abusive person, I might have been attracted to him.
“Hey mom,” he said, walking over to me and kissing me on the top of the head. The gentle gesture was ruined when he pushed his hand down the neck of my blouse, popping the buttons open and squeezing my breasts hard. He pinched my nipples, giving them a violent twist, before removing his hand. “Miss me, mom?”
I instinctively pulled away from him, and tears began to fill my eyes. “Please,” I whimpered, knowing it would do no good. But I hoped every time that the pleas of his own mother would somehow reach him. But they never did.
“Oh fuck, not with the whining again.” He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me hard to my feet. My leg struck the chair and it toppled over as he pushed me face-down over the table and pulled up my skirt. I let out a small scream and then another as he gripped my panties and tore them off of me. “You’re never gonna learn, are you bitch?” I felt his open hand meet my bare ass over and over until I lost count how many times he spanked me. My tears and sobs blended into one long painful moan by the time he was finished and let go of me.
When he finally stopped, I collapsed onto the cold tile floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hoping he’d stop, knowing he wouldn’t. I knew he wasn’t finished, and I knew I was powerless to do anything about it. “Fucking worthless pig!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me through the dining room and the entryway and into the living room. I felt the burn on my hip and I knew I’d have red marks for a week from the tile and carpet.
I knew where he was taking me. The living room was Jon’s favorite spot to rape me. I could feel the sharp edges of the carpet beneath me where his cum had dried and my feeble efforts to clean had not been successful.
He released my arm and reached down, tearing my blouse the rest of the way open. With a flick, he unfastened my bra and pulled harshly off of me. I used to be proud of my breasts, back before I’d given birth, and back before he’d first raped me. But now that I was in my late 40’s they sagged against my no-longer-flat tummy. I’d stopped going to yoga more than ten years ago, the day my son first raped me.
“Still teasing me with your fat, ugly body!” He forced my legs open and climbed on top of me. I was tired of fighting. I just wanted out. His cock slammed into me with one violent thrust. I lay there, nearly broken, as my own son slammed all ten inches of fat cock into me.
I felt something cold around my neck and reached up to grasp the silver amulet hanging near my shoulder. My tits were bouncing up into my throat with each of Jon’s brutal thrusts into me. I held the amulet tighter as my tears poured down my cheeks.
“Out,” I said in a near whisper, nearly sobbing. “ I just want out.” I closed my eyes.
**********
“Ahh!” I heard the woman’s scream come from beneath me. “What the fuck! Get off!” Hands pushed against my chest. “What’s happening?” I could hear the terror in her voice as I opened my eyes.
I gasped as I looked down into my own face, my own body. I was kneeling over myself. But I didn’t feel like me. I felt stronger, more powerful. I looked down and saw the huge cock buried in the pussy of the woman beneath me. The woman who had my face, my body. I leaned back and stood up, watching the cock slide out of her. The cock that was attached to my body. My male body.
“No!” she screamed again. “Who are you? Why do you have my body?” She was backing away from me, fear in her eyes. As I stood up, I saw the silver chain around her neck, and the tiny silver amulet. The amulet that I had acquired just that morning.
The realization of what had happened dawned on me, and I smiled. She must have seen something in that smile because she started backing away from me. “No, no no,” she repeated over and over.
“Hi Jon,” I said, “My dear son.” I looked down at the woman that had been me. The woman that was now my son. Oh how young I felt! I looked down at Jon’s massive cock, now MY massive cock. My heart was racing, and I could feel my blood almost boiling inside me, inside my son’s fabulous body.
“Mom?” he cried with my voice. “What’s going on?” Her voice grated at me. Was that really how I sounded? No wonder Jon couldn’t stand it
“Not to worry, Jon,” I said, taking a step toward him, toward my body. Such a confusing thing. I looked down at my old body. So old. How could he enjoy anything about that body? The tits were saggier than I thought, my tummy fuller. The stretch marks on my thighs and tummy and tits and arms were repulsive to me. Just looking at it made me angry, made me want to ruin it, to use it, to throw it away.
“Come to mommy,” I said, reaching down and grabbing my old body by the throat. Jon’s scream stopped short in my old body as my fingers closed around that old flabby throat. Jon’s cock was hard on my body and I could feel it throbbing and pulsing. I could feel the lust burning inside me.
“You were right,” I said, thrusting that giant cock into that old cunt. “That body is fat and ugly.” I could see the fear in her eyes as I pounded my new cock into her cunt. “Now, what did you say that first time?” I slammed hard into her. “I know you’ve wanted this.” I could feel the orgasm building with each thrust. Was this what it felt like? I wanted more. I needed more.
“Fuck. This. Cunt. Is. Mine. Now.” Jon’s eyes were rolling back in her head as I fucked her. My fingers tightened around her throat as I came. “Yes!” I’d never felt so powerful, so full of life and energy. Was this what it was like for a man to cum? No wonder Jon had taken me like he had! No wonder he’d used me like he had all those years!
Jon stopped moving long before I thrust a final burst of cum into her old worthless cunt. My cock was still hard, still craving more. I keep fucking her limp body, my hands getting tighter and tighter on her throat as I came again, and again, and again.
Finally, my body was truly mine!
