Mind-Controlled Son's Proud Mama
Four months ago, my mom had been told she'd won an award from M.I.L.F.S. Tonight was the night she'd receive 'Most Successful Activist.' Mom had been killing it with handing out pamphlets to the local colleges.
She'd been helping guys my age know that it was cool to fuck their moms.
A lot of prejudices had to be overcome. Youthful rebellion had to be redirected. Now happy mothers were getting plowed by their young sons. Getting fucked hard and bred. It was so great to hear that all those other guys were learning the joys of being a mama's boy.
I know I loved being mind-controlled into one.
I fidgeted downstairs. I was wearing a tux for the first time. A rental. The bow tie felt too tight. I kept adjusting the jacket. It was strange to wear something so formal. I was nervous, too. Nervous. I wasn't the one winning the award, but butterflies were fluttering around in my stomach.
Dad was in a tux, too. He wore it way too easily. Even with his balding head, he looked sharp in it. Suave. I guessed tuxedos made any guy looked ten times sharper or something. He had polished his shoes until you could see your face in them. A cop now, but he had done a stint in the army when he was eighteen.
The stairs creaked. Mom descended.
Dad and I both shot our gazes to the stairs. The flutters increased in my stomach. Her legs appeared, in heels, calves in dark nylons. The skirt of her black dress appeared. It had a shimmer to it, the fabric dark and yet reflective all at the same time. It was slit up her left leg, revealing that she had on thigh-high stockings. Her round stomach appeared.
Five months pregnant with my son, she had a fertile curve to her belly that was always exciting to behold, but in her elegant evening gown, it looked stunning. Her hand gripped the railing, a diamond bracelet that Dad bought for her birthday last month gleaming. The dress cupped her breasts. They bounced and jiggled. Another diamond necklace draped down into her cleavage. Her brown hair had a glossy sheen to it, styled into a lovely mass than three hours at the hair salon today had given her. She wore a radiant smile. A pregnant queen descending to visit us peasants.
"Damn, Mom," I croaked, staring at how gorgeous she was. My cock lurched in my pants as she smiled and sauntered to me. Those big boobs of hers bounced and jiggled. "You look amazing."
"Just gorgeous, Rita," Dad said, his voice in awe. "Wow. Dynamite."
"Oh, boys," Mom gasped, her cheeks going bright red. "Really? It's not too much?"
"No, no you look fantastic, Rita. Just fantastic." Dad nodded, a big grin on his face.
"You're perfect, Mom," I said, moving to her. I held out my hands and took hers. I squeezed them, staring into her eyes. "Just so wonderful."
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I groaned, feeling her pregnant belly rubbing into my stomach. The waxy coating of her lipstick felt amazing, a sort of buttery softness. She closed her eyes, groaning. Out of the corner of my eye, Dad pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.
Mom broke the kiss and took my arm, snuggling against me. She smiled at her husband who took more pics of us. He was so happy for us. Poor guy wasn't getting any, either. I knew that Mrs. Lemon, my girlfriend's pregnant mother, had sex with her husband. Most women didn't just stop fucking their husbands, often having threesomes with their son and spouse.
But Mom...
Mom didn't have any interest in Dad. She just wanted me. I bet that was the magic of the belt. It wanted us to be in a relationship. Changed the whole fucking world so I would be her lover. Her mama's boy. I would do anything to make her happy.
And if that was pounding her pregnant pussy hard, then I would do it.
"You two look great," Dad said, so accepting of our new family life. He had moved out of the master bedroom into mine. That was where I slept, even on a school night now. Mom just made sure we weren't up all night fucking.
That was for the weekend. Often with Donna in the mix. Sometimes, Donna's mother would come for a foursome, but with both MILFs pregnancies progressing so far, that wasn't happening as much. I still had no joy in knocking up my girlfriend, but we tried as much as we could.
A knock rapped on the door. "Limo for Mrs. Reynolds."
"It's here!" Mom squealed, sounding so girlish. A big smile spread on her lips. M.I.L.F.S. had sent us a limo. It was so elegant. I couldn't believe it. We were heading up to a hotel in Seattle. The Red Lion. We would be spending the night.
It wouldn't be the first time Dad saw me nailing Mom. I knew he'd be in the other bed as we enjoyed ourselves tonight. It was just the way our family worked now. I had long accepted this new world. I was just the only one who remembered the old one.
Sometimes, I thought I was the crazy one for even thinking the world hadn't been this way. Like the belt that was up in my room had gas-lit me into thinking that the old place was all in my imagination and the world had always been for mothers fucking their sons.
There were even bible verses. I was pretty sure one of the Ten Commandments didn't say for 'Sons shall honor and obey their Fathers and shall lie with and obey their Mothers.' But I had read it in Exodus 20:12 myself.
Dad opened the door to the chauffeur who smiled at us. We had a forty-five-minute drive to the hotel if there was no traffic. It was late Saturday afternoon. There might be traffic. But we had a buffer. The event started at 7:00 PM. So we should make it in time.
"I've never ridden in a limo," I said as I escorted Mom down the driveway, the chauffeur hurrying to the limo to open the back door for us.
"Oh, I did once," Mom said. "Me and my friends rented one for our prom. I went with Billy Sullivan. He took my virginity that night."
"I don't need to hear about you and some other guy my age," I groaned.
"Oh you have nothing to fear. He was a terrible lover. Your father's better than him, and you are far, far better than your father." Mom snuggled tight. "Of the five men I've had, you're better than all of them combined."
I smiled at that. I was a stud.
I helped Mom into the limo. She slid onto the seat and rubbed at her belly. I went in after her, looking around. Two padded benches faced each other. Dad sat opposite us. In a holder built into the side of the limo was a bottle of sparkling cider. No champagne, Mom was pregnant.
The cork was popped and dad poured us all glasses. We were smiling and laughing and sipping that the carbonated cider. It was good. I felt giddy, and Mom was squirming, her head whipping about as we headed out. It was like we were going on an adventure.
It was so stirring. I loved it.
"I can't believe I'm winning an award," Mom said about thirty minutes later as we were driving down I-5, the world getting darker and darker, night falling. "Me!"
