Second Thoughts and Immedate Regret
Neighborhood MILFs
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
primus359
For a long moment, James stared down at his mother, Paula, as she sulked on the floor like an overgrown child. He had been only a few inches tall since birth but it was hard not to feel like a giant next to her pathetic display. A grin tugged at his lips as his thoughts wandered. With just a few, well thought out orders, James could have the perfect mother! She would love him and dote on him and make sure that she protected him from all the crazy people out in the world. No more renting him out for disgusting or demeaning odd jobs to the other women of the neighborhood. No more close calls with Mary's gullet and then a wretched, shivering night spent curled up in her toilet bowl. NO. MORE. JAR.
James' now wide grin began to fade as common sense started to poke back in. Did it really make sense that his long vacant father would be able to control women with just his voice alone? Or that James would just today-- right now-- manifest that same ability? Wasn't it MORE likely that Paula was so drunk she had convinced herself that she had to obey him? James knew from experience that drunks had problems with impulse control and thinking about it now, it did not seem like THAT much of a leap for someone like his mother to decide that James was the voice she should listen to. Like a Jiminy Cricket that Pinocchio only listened to when he was completely sloshed. Yes, it seemed unlikely, but not impossible, so he would have some fun tonight but expect her to be back to her bitchy-self tomorrow.
He grinned broadly again, letting her see it. Letting HER be the one to feel the dread of their encounter for once.
"Well... I guess, I'm your Master now!" He could not help but laugh as he said it. He felt like he should be sitting in a chair stroking at cat while he laid out his plan for world conquest. "And there's going to be some changes around here. I command you to obey these rules... for... the whole rest of the day!" He took a deep breath and held it as Paula just goggled up at him; either too shocked or too drunk to argue with him.
"Rule one: you go by Delia now." James chuckled as Paula's cheeks flushed. She HATED her middle name and James had spent more than a week's worth of nights in the jaw until she had finally broken him of the habit of calling her that just to irritate her. 'Sounds like a stripper,' had always been her stormy reply.
"Rule two: you will dress better in my presence beginning tonight. Fix that makeup and put on something that that will make my friends at school jealous!" He grinned as her cheeks flushed pinker but James did not care if she was angry now. He knew it was television but James had always been jealous of those TV families where the mom wore house dresses all the time and always looked immaculate no matter what she was doing around the house. HIS Mom acted like a drunk and dressed like a drunk. Even now, her clothes had old stains on them and a stretch waistband so she could collapse into bed without getting changed.
"And rule three: you will love me!" For just a moment, he could feel his throat constricting. Pau-- Delia was an ill-tempered, drunken bitch but she was still his mother and if he had just one night of her loving him the way mother's were supposed to love their sons, then he would eagerly accept it.
"I already love you, you ungrateful piece of afterbirth," Delia hissed immediately. Her anger was helping her find her tongue again but it also reinforced the point for James. Yes yes, she was his mother and blah blah blah, but he wanted the full experience: a peck on the cheek, a tussle of his hair and a pat on his back because she was SO proud of him.
"Physically! You will physically love me, you fucking mouthy cunt!" Anger seethed through James' veins. Even as his slave, she could be so damned infuriating. Her eyes fluttered as she processed the words. Jason held his breath as he watched. Yes, she was drunk but she obviously believed his commands were having an effect. Would it actually be THAT simple to get the perfect Mom? Finally her eyes cleared and she focused on him again but there WAS something different in her eyes now. For just a moment her gaze dropped, trailing down his tiny body before boring back into his face. James held his breath.
"James... I... I... BuuUUrrRp!" The table shook from the size of her belch.
James' shoulders slumped in disappointment but he could not really claim to be surprised. For a moment he was afraid something besides air would spew from those lips and if she had reached the point of being violently ill, then she could do that in the back of the house where he did not have to see it. She was his Mom and nothing would really change her.
"Yeah, I guess that sums it up, Mom. Now... go. Execute. Engage or... whatever." James waved a hand dismissively towards the hall to her bedroom. Immediately, Delia's fingers slid up towards him. James yelped in surprise then flushed pink as the still tipsy woman gripped the edges of the table and lurched awkwardly to her feet and then stumbled away down the hall.
James stood on the edge of the table for a few more minutes wondering if he could have handled the situation differently. A woman, even his Mom, under his control was certainly not something that would happen every day, least till the next time she was drunk. Still, he had sent her off and within minutes she would probably be snoring and laying half off her bed.
"Fuck it," James breathed with a sigh and the hint of a grin. The house was HIS for the night! A few minutes of stomping on the his Mom's cellphone later and a delicious sausage pizza was on its way and the TV was, for once, all his! No sharing. No having to watch Delia's shitty reality shows. No spending the evening under Delia's sweaty ass while she pretended to not notice him until she got bored. Really, life could not get much better!
After ending the call and a few minutes of looking for a better way, James climbed from the edge of the table and dropped the distance down to the seat of the chair below. He stumbled at the landing and cursed. Delia snickered softly from the doorway and James felt his hopes for the night fade.
"Yeah yeah, the tiny guy fell. Always a laugh rio--Ooooh. My. GOD." His Mom stood in the archway to the hall looking like a vision of pure sex. White stockings covered her legs up to her thighs. Strappy, white heels, each taller than James, sat at the end of her feet. Slender straps led up her thighs to a garter belt that strained around her gut and the waistband of a white thong that look a size too small for her. Her shoulders and chest were draped in a lacy babydoll that was completely see-through. Her tits, firm and round and fat, rose and fell beneath the silky fabric as she stared at him. For several long seconds he could only stare, mesmerized at those breasts as they swayed softly to the shift of her body.
"M... Mom?"
James had experienced Delia's tits before. She felt that it was humiliating to stuff him down into her seemingly bottomless cleavage when she had to carry him around; AND, she was right. The world was a sweaty, bouncing, sickening roller-coaster every time she did that and he had grown to hate the experience. Now, staring across the room at her, he could not believe how incredibly glorious those breasts were! And that lingerie! It was so clean and white that it almost hurt his eyes to look at it; like wedding night lingerie, he felt a little dirtier but his eyes refused to leave those magnificent fun bags. He had no idea that Delia owned anything so... pure!
--CLICK-- --CLICK--
Delia heels tapped against the floor as she took a few steps towards him while a sheepish grin tugged at his lips. Her makeup was perfect too, her eyes dark and mysterious and her lipstick a perfect shade of red that would drag any other man's eyes to that mouth again and again and perhaps James DID glance. What were his rules? Something about dressing better? This was definitely a 'check' even if it was not the way he expected. She would forget tonight, but he would never forget it. The next rule? Being nicer to him, that was right. His grin widened even more as she circled around to the front of the chair; looming above him like an enormous, out-of-shape goddess.
"I hope you're happy with yourself, dumb-ass" Delia hissed and James' grin vanished immediately.
Her thighs parted and she stepped up around the chair as if to straddle it; towering above him so that he could not see anything past her thighs, crotch and the sliver of fabric running up between her cheeks. James tried to back up but stumbled and fell on his ass just as her knees bent and his mother's hairy, lace covered muff descended towards him.
"Holy shit! Mom! Mom, sto--"
Her cunt enveloped him, or so it felt as it pressed down on him from all sides; hot and moist and quivering. He could feel the fleshy outline of her labia squeezing his tiny body as she ground down on him. She rocked back for a moment and light filtered down to him. His lungs expanded to scream but her thighs tensed again and her crotch rolled right back over him as she let out a throaty moan. In a panic, James punched and kicked but the mountain of flesh around him only trembled with excitement and then ground down even harder. His body was being pushed tighter and tighter against her apparently sopping wet cunt with each roll of her hips like she was going to push him right into her, panties or not. Moisture was soaking through the fabric as his mind raced. He needed to get away! He needed to give her an order, but what would it be?!
James' now wide grin began to fade as common sense started to poke back in. Did it really make sense that his long vacant father would be able to control women with just his voice alone? Or that James would just today-- right now-- manifest that same ability? Wasn't it MORE likely that Paula was so drunk she had convinced herself that she had to obey him? James knew from experience that drunks had problems with impulse control and thinking about it now, it did not seem like THAT much of a leap for someone like his mother to decide that James was the voice she should listen to. Like a Jiminy Cricket that Pinocchio only listened to when he was completely sloshed. Yes, it seemed unlikely, but not impossible, so he would have some fun tonight but expect her to be back to her bitchy-self tomorrow.
He grinned broadly again, letting her see it. Letting HER be the one to feel the dread of their encounter for once.
"Well... I guess, I'm your Master now!" He could not help but laugh as he said it. He felt like he should be sitting in a chair stroking at cat while he laid out his plan for world conquest. "And there's going to be some changes around here. I command you to obey these rules... for... the whole rest of the day!" He took a deep breath and held it as Paula just goggled up at him; either too shocked or too drunk to argue with him.
"Rule one: you go by Delia now." James chuckled as Paula's cheeks flushed. She HATED her middle name and James had spent more than a week's worth of nights in the jaw until she had finally broken him of the habit of calling her that just to irritate her. 'Sounds like a stripper,' had always been her stormy reply.
"Rule two: you will dress better in my presence beginning tonight. Fix that makeup and put on something that that will make my friends at school jealous!" He grinned as her cheeks flushed pinker but James did not care if she was angry now. He knew it was television but James had always been jealous of those TV families where the mom wore house dresses all the time and always looked immaculate no matter what she was doing around the house. HIS Mom acted like a drunk and dressed like a drunk. Even now, her clothes had old stains on them and a stretch waistband so she could collapse into bed without getting changed.
"And rule three: you will love me!" For just a moment, he could feel his throat constricting. Pau-- Delia was an ill-tempered, drunken bitch but she was still his mother and if he had just one night of her loving him the way mother's were supposed to love their sons, then he would eagerly accept it.
"I already love you, you ungrateful piece of afterbirth," Delia hissed immediately. Her anger was helping her find her tongue again but it also reinforced the point for James. Yes yes, she was his mother and blah blah blah, but he wanted the full experience: a peck on the cheek, a tussle of his hair and a pat on his back because she was SO proud of him.
"Physically! You will physically love me, you fucking mouthy cunt!" Anger seethed through James' veins. Even as his slave, she could be so damned infuriating. Her eyes fluttered as she processed the words. Jason held his breath as he watched. Yes, she was drunk but she obviously believed his commands were having an effect. Would it actually be THAT simple to get the perfect Mom? Finally her eyes cleared and she focused on him again but there WAS something different in her eyes now. For just a moment her gaze dropped, trailing down his tiny body before boring back into his face. James held his breath.
"James... I... I... BuuUUrrRp!" The table shook from the size of her belch.
James' shoulders slumped in disappointment but he could not really claim to be surprised. For a moment he was afraid something besides air would spew from those lips and if she had reached the point of being violently ill, then she could do that in the back of the house where he did not have to see it. She was his Mom and nothing would really change her.
"Yeah, I guess that sums it up, Mom. Now... go. Execute. Engage or... whatever." James waved a hand dismissively towards the hall to her bedroom. Immediately, Delia's fingers slid up towards him. James yelped in surprise then flushed pink as the still tipsy woman gripped the edges of the table and lurched awkwardly to her feet and then stumbled away down the hall.
James stood on the edge of the table for a few more minutes wondering if he could have handled the situation differently. A woman, even his Mom, under his control was certainly not something that would happen every day, least till the next time she was drunk. Still, he had sent her off and within minutes she would probably be snoring and laying half off her bed.
"Fuck it," James breathed with a sigh and the hint of a grin. The house was HIS for the night! A few minutes of stomping on the his Mom's cellphone later and a delicious sausage pizza was on its way and the TV was, for once, all his! No sharing. No having to watch Delia's shitty reality shows. No spending the evening under Delia's sweaty ass while she pretended to not notice him until she got bored. Really, life could not get much better!
After ending the call and a few minutes of looking for a better way, James climbed from the edge of the table and dropped the distance down to the seat of the chair below. He stumbled at the landing and cursed. Delia snickered softly from the doorway and James felt his hopes for the night fade.
"Yeah yeah, the tiny guy fell. Always a laugh rio--Ooooh. My. GOD." His Mom stood in the archway to the hall looking like a vision of pure sex. White stockings covered her legs up to her thighs. Strappy, white heels, each taller than James, sat at the end of her feet. Slender straps led up her thighs to a garter belt that strained around her gut and the waistband of a white thong that look a size too small for her. Her shoulders and chest were draped in a lacy babydoll that was completely see-through. Her tits, firm and round and fat, rose and fell beneath the silky fabric as she stared at him. For several long seconds he could only stare, mesmerized at those breasts as they swayed softly to the shift of her body.
"M... Mom?"
James had experienced Delia's tits before. She felt that it was humiliating to stuff him down into her seemingly bottomless cleavage when she had to carry him around; AND, she was right. The world was a sweaty, bouncing, sickening roller-coaster every time she did that and he had grown to hate the experience. Now, staring across the room at her, he could not believe how incredibly glorious those breasts were! And that lingerie! It was so clean and white that it almost hurt his eyes to look at it; like wedding night lingerie, he felt a little dirtier but his eyes refused to leave those magnificent fun bags. He had no idea that Delia owned anything so... pure!
--CLICK-- --CLICK--
Delia heels tapped against the floor as she took a few steps towards him while a sheepish grin tugged at his lips. Her makeup was perfect too, her eyes dark and mysterious and her lipstick a perfect shade of red that would drag any other man's eyes to that mouth again and again and perhaps James DID glance. What were his rules? Something about dressing better? This was definitely a 'check' even if it was not the way he expected. She would forget tonight, but he would never forget it. The next rule? Being nicer to him, that was right. His grin widened even more as she circled around to the front of the chair; looming above him like an enormous, out-of-shape goddess.
"I hope you're happy with yourself, dumb-ass" Delia hissed and James' grin vanished immediately.
Her thighs parted and she stepped up around the chair as if to straddle it; towering above him so that he could not see anything past her thighs, crotch and the sliver of fabric running up between her cheeks. James tried to back up but stumbled and fell on his ass just as her knees bent and his mother's hairy, lace covered muff descended towards him.
"Holy shit! Mom! Mom, sto--"
Her cunt enveloped him, or so it felt as it pressed down on him from all sides; hot and moist and quivering. He could feel the fleshy outline of her labia squeezing his tiny body as she ground down on him. She rocked back for a moment and light filtered down to him. His lungs expanded to scream but her thighs tensed again and her crotch rolled right back over him as she let out a throaty moan. In a panic, James punched and kicked but the mountain of flesh around him only trembled with excitement and then ground down even harder. His body was being pushed tighter and tighter against her apparently sopping wet cunt with each roll of her hips like she was going to push him right into her, panties or not. Moisture was soaking through the fabric as his mind raced. He needed to get away! He needed to give her an order, but what would it be?!
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June 1
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