Spiked Stepmom

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. All characters depicted in this fictional work are adults of legal age. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A Quick Note from the Author:

I'd like to encourage(not require) every person that finishes reading my work to please

leave a comment

. If you liked my story, tell me what you like about it. If you didn't, tell me what you didn't like. Please don't leave a two to three word blurb. It was great is just as unhelpful as It sucked. Thanks and happy reading.

Desmond exploded through the charcoal-colored double doors of his home and into the foyer. He kicked off his sneakers with a flourish and they plopped loudly onto the pristine marble. A blur of gray-colored jeans and a lime green t-shirt streaked across the spacious living room with vaulted ceilings. His backpack jostled on his back, one hand gripping one strap, as he made a beeline for the kitchen, focus sharpening his eyes and mischief bringing a slight smile to his lips.

Gleaming stainless steel and white quartz surrounded him as he padded onto the dark hardwood floors. His backpack thudded onto the expansive island and the only sound in the well air-conditioned space. Desmond opened the refrigerator.

Along the inside of the door, he scanned down the rainbow of cold-pressed juices neatly lined up in small plastic bottles. A devious smile sprang onto his face as his eyes settled on a bottle of mango juice.

"Yes!" he hissed out as the young college sophomore snatched the bottle and slammed the large refrigerator shut. Setting the juice on the counter beside his backpack, Desmond whipped the zipper open. His slender fingers pulled out a small glass vial with a screw-on blue cap. Clearly visible on the white and blue label were the words

Testing Sample

. In the low corner of the label, less visible, was the name

Maurizio Hernandez

. The liquid inside swirled a mesmerizing shade of bluish-green.

Desmond emptied the vial into the mango juice with a jovial scoff. He screwed the cap back on and gave the bottle a vigorous shake. The strange liquid vanished into the orange hue, leaving no trace.

An angry buzz sounded against the coarse fabric of his pocket. He whipped out with his phone in one smooth motion and read the name above the green and red button. Desmond's pulse quickened, but he answered nonchalantly.

"Yo, Rizz, what's up?"

The youthful voice coming from the other end was an octave higher with worry and urgency.

"Hey, man, you seen a vial of that stuff I showed you? I'm missing one."

Desmond's pulse jumped again, but he kept his voice steady.

"Nah...haven't seen it."

"I swear I left it on my desk-," Rizz's voice shifted to frustration.

Desmond's mind raced to find a new topic as he retreated to his room, leaving the bottle of orange liquid cooly perspiring on the island counter.

He could hear his friend shuffling around, probably continuing to search for the

lost

vial. Rizz's voice seemed to lighten a little, but a hint of suspicion remained.

"I'm serious, if you took it let me know 'cause that stuff's experimental. I don't even know all the side effects yet."

Desmond flopped onto his unmade bed and kicked his feet up into a more relaxed position, furthering the charade.

"Chill, Rizz. Maybe it fell out of your pocket somewhere. Or maybe somewhere else, did you check your stepmom's panty drawer." Desmond's deep brown lips parted into a grin.

A nervous laugh escaped Rizz. "Dude, that's not funny."

"Just go in there and take a whiff, maybe you can smell if it's in there."

"Fuck you!" Rizz shouted, a playful tone still in his voice.

Desmond raised an eyebrow, "With that ass she got? You need to be trying to fuck her."

"Just focus on Ashley." Rizz's tone now leaned to annoyance.

Desmond sat up, a sly grin returning to his face.

"Oh, I am. She's coming over tonight, and I've got the whole thing planned. Just gotta get her to loosen up a bit, and then unleash the Desmond charm."

He posed despite Rizz not being able to see it.

"Your

charm

, " Rizz scoffed, "couldn't even get Professor Smith to change your grade in English Lit."

Desmond did a dismissive hand wave.

"Whatever...", he paused and sat on his bed as a realization hit him, " Oh, before I forget can I get your Chem notes?"

Rizz sighed. "Why don't you just come to class and take your own notes?"

"Because we all should do what we're good at," Desmond retorted.

"You're good at being a student, I'm good at being a stud."

Rizz chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'll drop them off later,

stud

. And

if

you see my vial, be careful with that stuff. It's not a toy. Ok?"

Desmond continued to ply his friend with conversation and jokes not noticing the sound of the front door opening.

Jennifer pushed the door shut with an elbow as she read over the cover of some letters from the mailbox, flipping them in one hand and pinning her phone to her head with her shoulder. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble foyer as she half-heartedly sighed into her phone, "No, honey, I told you, I didn't see anything in the mail about it."

Her foot connected with a rogue sneaker, sending her stumbling forward.

"Damn it, Desmond!" she hissed, barely catching herself on the wall.

A predictable question came from the other end.

"Your son happened," Jennifer retorted, her voice dripping with annoyance. "He left his shoes all over the foyer again."

A sigh echoed from the other end of the line and a promise of future conversations.

"When will that be?" Jennifer asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. "This trip's been extended again?" There was a pause. Jennifer sighed again, a sound heavy with resignation.

"Sure, honey. I love you too." She ended the call with a deep exhale.

Jennifer stepped out of her own shoes with a practiced efficiency and placed them neatly on the shoe rack near the door. A slight ache from her sore feet put a hitch in her step as she headed towards the kitchen.

By the time her bare feet tread into her stainless steel and white quartz heaven, the hitch was gone. She smoothed her hands over her gray pencil skirt and looked down at the shapely thighs underneath before perching her hands on her prodigious hips and arching her back into a stretch. Her breasts tightened the fabric of her shirt, testing the thin cream-colored material's ability to hold back the substantial flesh.

Feeling a slight soothe enter the small of her back, Jennifer placed her purse on the island. Its contents rattled and she suddenly remembered.

"Oh, right. My vitamins." she muttered to the empty kitchen.

She dug through its contents and retrieved the white bottle of vitamins, popping a couple into her mouth and instantly grimacing at the bitter taste. The sour flavor spread onto her tongue and Jennifer was immediately looking around for anything to wash away the taste.

Her eyes landed on the bottle of mango juice now lightly perspiring on the island countertop. The sweet orangey liquid inside beckoned. Her manicured fingers wrapped around the cold bottle, undid the cap, and pressed it into her round lips, puckered for a long draw.

Desmond emerged from his room, all smiles and cackling with laughter from his latest joke. His eyes alighted on Jennifer standing near the island and his elation soured slightly. His grin fell away completely as a second glance caught the now partially consumed bottle of mango juice held casually in her hand.

His blood ran cold. His thumb almost instinctively ended the call with Rizz abruptly.

"Um, Jen?" he croaked, concern slacked his youthful features and put a pale tone in his otherwise warm brown skin. "Did you, uh... Did you drink that juice?"

Jennifer arched an eyebrow, a look of mild annoyance crossing her face. As she looked up from her cellphone in Desmond's direction.

"Hello, Desmond, good afternoon. How was your day?" her tone sarcastic and her arms waving in expectant circles as if to suggest to him that he'd started the conversation incorrectly.

"Oh...ummm yea.....good afternoon, did you drink that juice?" Desmond's voice was still barely above a whisper and teeming with worry.

"Yes, Desmond," she replied, taking another sip and returning to her cellphone. "I needed something to take my vitamins with."

"Oh... okay. Just wondering." he stammered as he turned calmly back in the direction of his bedroom.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "And for the hundredth time, could you please put your shoes away in the foyer?! Or better yet, take them to your room!"

She braced herself for his usual defensive retort, but it never came. Desmond merely nodded. He turned and shuffled towards the foyer like a zombie, retrieving his scattered shoes, and slinked back to his room.

Jennifer watched him in astonishment. She shrugged it off, attributing his odd behavior to his usual college boy moodiness. With a sigh, she returned to scrolling through her phone.

Back in the cool confines of his disheveled room, Desmond's finger jabbed at Rizz's name on his phone screen. When Rizz answered, Desmond could hear the faint sound of movement in the background.

"Hey, man, you're not gonna believe this-" Rizz started up.

"Rizz!" Desmond blurted, cutting him off. "I took the vial."

A brief silence hung in the air.

"What?" Rizz's voice was now sharp with disbelief.

"I took the vial," Desmond repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I thought...if I gave some to Ashley, maybe... maybe..."

"Are you kidding me?" Rizz's voice rose an octave. "You stole my experiment to try and hookup with a girl?!" A sharp intake of breath sounded as Rizz's voice thickened with anger. "And I asked you and you lied to my face!"

"I'm so sorry, Rizz. I really messed up." Rizz immediately paused and the call fell silent. For a long moment, neither spoke as the revelation hit Rizz.

"Why are you apologizing so fast?"

"I need your help, Rizz. Please.." Desmond's voice trembled with worry, but there was a clear urgency to his words. A long pause followed. Rizz's voice, when it finally came, was heavy with concern.

"Ok, how much did Ashley drink?"

Desmond eased his bedroom door open a crack, his eyes darting down the hall to the kitchen. Jennifer was visible, still standing at the island, the mango juice bottle now resting beside her on the counter while she expressionlessly looked into her phone.

"Ashley's not here."

"So who drank it?"

"My stepmom." he winced as he braced for Rizz's reaction.

Rizz's voice tightened. He made a sound like a small balloon letting out the last bit of air. Desmond could hear him pacing for what seemed like a long time before his voice came back poised and concentrated on the science.

"Okay, listen carefully. This compound, it's a novel psychoactive agent, a selective agonist for the 5-HT2A receptor. It induces a state of heightened euphoria, disinhibition, and..."

Desmond cut him off, "I almost failed Chemistry, man. Layman's, please."

Rizz sighed.

"It's like ecstasy, but without the bad trip. You feel really, really good. Eventually, you feel amazing, but it also lowers your inhibitions."

"What does that mean?" Desmond asked, his mind racing with possibilities.

"I don't know, man. It varies. Just keep an eye on her, try to keep her hydrated, and don't let her do anything crazy."

Desmond swallowed hard.

"Okay, but... Can you come help me?"

Rizz hesitated. "I don't have a ride."

"Well, find one, man. If this shit goes sideways you're the only person who might know what to do."

Rizz's voice softened.

"I'll try."

Desmond hung up and stepped away from his slightly ajar door. He stood at the far wall under a collage of bikini-clad women and music artists. He closed his eyes as if in prayer and started to breathe in deeply, before jumping up and down a little.

With his heart pumping a little more from the exercise, Desmond turned to the door and cooly walked out into the dim hallway, his focus now one hundred percent on the kitchen.

Jennifer was still there, a soft smile playing on her lips as she tapped away at her phone.

Desmond headed for the island, his eyes fixated on the bottle still two-thirds full of insidious orange liquid. His movements were swift and silent, as Jennifer's momentary turn away from the bottle allowed him a window.

He snatched the mango juice bottle, his eyes darting towards Jennifer as he quickly screwed the cap on and snuck it back into the refrigerator. His movements were almost soundless. Before the soft thud of the refrigerator door closing to conceal the juice, he swiped a water bottle from it and approached his stepmother with a sheepish grin.

"Hey, Jen," he began, holding out the water bottle. "Sorry about the shoes in the foyer. Won't happen again."

Jennifer looked up from her phone, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She took the water with a mixture of confused amusement playing up into her features.

"What's gotten into you?"

Desmond fidgeted nervously, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of the drug's effects. But Jennifer seemed normal, just a little more relaxed than usual.

"Oh, you know," he mumbled, "I just been thinking, I really should be more intentional about how I do things, y'know?" Desmond quoted from one of Jennifer's lectures to him.

Jennifer chuckled softly. "Wow," Desmond felt her eyes give him a look of approval and the sensation was both thrilling and unfamiliar, "starting to sound like a grown up."

She paused, closed her eyes and twisted her neck, feeling something warm slide over her skin. She stretched her hands up. Desmond tried not to be obvious as the swelling chest pressed into his eyeline. Jennifer felt her body, which had been previously stiffening up, was now suddenly supple and loose.

"I think I'm going to go take a nice long soak in the tub." Jennifer turned towards her bedroom, but Desmond noticed a playful jaunt appear in her gait as her thick hips twisted and her proud butt jiggled with every step toward the master bedroom.

"Okay, sounds good," Desmond replied, trying to sound casual. As the mesmerizing effect of her ass waned, he added, "Hey, Rizz might come by later. If that's cool?"

Jennifer shrugged.

"Sure, whatever."

She slowly dropped out of sight and Desmond heard the click of the double doors to the master bedroom echo through the house. Desmond let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. But then his stomach twisted as he remembered Rizz's warning. He had to keep an eye on her.

Desmond paced in the kitchen feeling, not just the cool wood floor beneath his socks, but the downshift in time as the minutes seemed to drag on. Over and over, his eyes darted from the floor towards the master bedroom. His steps disquieted by the wild scenarios being conjured in his mind.

He imagined Jennifer, hugging her knees in a corner of her room crying to herself. He pictured her clawing at the walls, foaming at the mouth, and ripping up pillows with her teeth.

The most jarring daydream was of her writhing in pain as her face elongated into a snout with jagged teeth and her manicured nails spread out into sharpened claws until all at once she emerged fur-covered with burning yellow eyes and a hunger for flesh. When the apparition in his mind howled, Desmond jumped and tried to shake off the spector.

Mocking the ridiculousness of his own thoughts, he remembered Rizz's words. He tried to picture Jennifer, sensibility incarnate, dancing around foolishly like a drunk girl at a rave. Somehow that seemed even more ridiculous. Desmond even snorted with laughter at the thought of Jennifer in pigtails jumping around to music with a glow stick in each hand, but as the humor faded, he realized he'd never be able to discern anything through the door.

The shadows in the house deepened with the afternoon sun while Desmond pondered his predicament when the memory of the laundry room door flickered through his mind. In the laundry room there was a pocket door that went straight into the master bedroom closet. He could walk right in as long as it wasn't locked from the other side.

Desmond hesitated, wrestling with the morality of spying and the anxiety of the guilt gnawing at his gut. In the end, culpability motivated his steps closer.

Desmond's palms were slick with sweat, a steady drumbeat was playing against his ribs. He moved quickly and silently on socked feet towards the laundry room. The door to the front-load washer was open and it looked empty. No piles of clothes in the basket on top of the machine or on the counter, deducing that there wouldn't be a reason for Jennifer to come in the laundry room. His eyes observed the small sunken in door straight ahead and his anxiety mounted. He could excuse his presence in the laundry room, but skulking around in his parents' closet couldn't be defended.

He inhaled a shaky breath, reached for the sliding door, and pulled at it, half-expecting it to be locked. When it eased open smoothly and almost with no sound, Desmond exhaled. He eased it open just enough for his slender frame to squeeze through.

In the obscured space of the master closet, he felt the gravity of what he was doing more keenly. Every sense heightened in this foreign territory. His eyes struggled for light in the dim area. There was only a dull glow of afternoon sun coming in from the partially open sliding door at the opening to Jennifer's room.

Desmond was careful to maintain a slow and silent gait. Even in the spacious walk-in edged in afternoon shadows, Desmond could see he was tiptoeing past pristinely hung clothes and uniformly closed drawers. He drifted through this symphony of order, meticulously organized racks of shoes and color-coordinated clothing simultaneously wondering who could ever be this organized and immediately remembering the sheer force of order that was his stepmother.

Desmond skulked across the plush carpet to the sliding door into the master bedroom, carefully pulling it open. The room was still taking in enough sunlight from its large windows that a cool blue dusklight gave him just enough light to move confidently.

Jennifer wasn't in the bedroom. Desmond's eyes followed the sound of running water coming from the cracked bathroom door rimmed in light. The soft glow beckoned him closer.

As he crept across the carpeted floor, his foot landed on something soft. He glanced down and swallowed hard. A blouse, a skirt, and undergarments--lay scattered in a haphazard trail leading to the bathroom. A cold dread washed over him. The clutter in the midst of this bastion of order and organization stood out like graffiti on a church. Still, he stepped closer to the bathroom door. The crack in the door grew as he drew closer.

The sound of splashing water reached his ears. He strained his ear to hear any sounds of distress. But all he heard was the rhythmic swish of water and a faint, unfamiliar melody humming beneath it.

Desmond tried to quiet his own breathing as he cautiously pushed the bathroom door open a sliver. A wave of steam and the scent of lavender wafted out. Jennifer was reclining in the tub, her eyes closed, her face was flush and mouth open as if struggling to get air. Desmond heard her make a pained whimper. The young college student searched his mind for any medical knowledge and his fingertips lightly touched on the door to push it open, but something made him hesitate.

Jennifer stirred at the water, her hand furious searching for something below the bubbles as her face seemed to slack open as if shock prevented her from screaming. Shock froze Desmond in silence, a line of light from the crack in the bathroom door over one eye as he violated his stepmother's privacy.