This is a modern re-telling of the tale of Psyche and Cupid, the original Valentine's romance.
Many thanks to NewOldGuy77 for quick, thoughtful, editing and comments!
(Dafydd)
"Look at her, my son."
I looked over my mother's shoulder at her computer screen. On it, a video played showing a young brunette laughing and playing frisbee with a dog on a beach. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, unworldly even. It wasn't just her body, although that was perfect in every proportion, it was her personality that shone through her expression and movements. She seemed full of cheerful innocence, with just a touch of mysterious sadness that tugged at my heart.
"What do you think of her?" My mother asked, her tone deceptively sweet.
"She is a woman. What should I think?" I replied, carefully.
"Does she arouse you?" My mother pressed her hand to my cock, not bothered by the fact that we were at work, or that I was her son.
"No," I lied, keeping my penis flaccid.
Dealing with my mother, Madrona Wynne, I had learned to control my body. She demanded it of me. According to her, my erections, like those of all men, should be only for her. She was a witch in the true sense of the word, and her power came from the arousal she incited. The more cocks she hardened, the more power she had. The more power she had, the younger and more beautiful she could look, and the more cocks would harden, and so the cycle would repeat.
Her company, Wynne Beauty, was just the latest in a line of endeavors to launder and hide the money she'd amassed over her centuries of life. More importantly, she'd embraced the world of social media, a new way to connect with her admirers. Since launching a YouTube channel, her power had grown exponentially, as had her jealousy.
"Look at how many followers this harlot has," my mother indicated a number on the screen. "It is nearly half as many as me, my son."
I said nothing, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
"But you prefer me, don't you?" My mother asked, turning towards me.
Smiling up at me, my mother pressed her disproportionately large breasts outward and up. Her cleavage presented a shelf of fleshy pillows into which all of her (exclusively male) employees dreamed of pressing their faces, and she knew it.
To me she looked like a snake, coiling around its prey. I could imagine her jaw would soon unhinge and she would swallow me whole. It didn't matter what I thought, though. I smiled sincerely and made an erection for my mother, which swelled under her hand.
"Of course, I prefer you, Mother."
Looking up at me coyly, she unzipped my pants and pulled out my penis. My hard cock sprung upwards, arching to touch my belly button. Exaggerated sexual proportions ran in the family, a side effect of being witches who gained power from erotic energy.
To disguise my lack of true arousal, I sent a tingle of my own power through my penis into my mother's fingers. She sighed and licked her lips with pleasure. Nothing made my mother happier than getting more power, no matter what she had to do to get it.
Turning back to her computer screen, her expression turned grim again, "The little whore is stealing power from me. I can feel it! She isn't even a witch, it's wasteful and conceited and I want her punished for it."
"Perhaps a hex to blur her image in digital media?" I suggested the mildest approach I could imagine.
"You are too soft in the heart," Mother hissed reproachfully, then giggled as she wrapped her hand around my cock, realizing her pun, "but not too soft in my hand, hmmm?"
Distracted, she turned from the computer and kissed the head of my penis gently, sliding her tongue across the glans, then swirling it around the corona. I sent another bit of power.
"Your arousal is the most delicious, my son," My mother groaned as if in an orgasm.
Maybe this would distract her from wanting vengeance on that innocent girl, I mused. It was a vain hope, within moments my mother had turned back to the computer screen.
"The girl must suffer, and be seen to suffer, so that all her admirers will begin to pity and revile her. I will destroy her..."
I watched the happy young woman on the screen toss her long brown hair. It caught in the wind and blew back from her face, revealing a delicate straight nose and eyes so pale blue they were nearly white. Her full, but not too plump, lips spread in a laugh, revealing slightly crooked, white, teeth.
Compared to my mother, the woman on the screen looked real. Hauntingly beautiful, yes. But alive in a way that mother no longer was. Surprising myself, I realized that when I watched the video, my erection was much easier to maintain.
My mother spoke, interrupting my thoughts, "Wouldn't it be delicious if this delicate creature, this idol of beauty, were to be married to an ugly and inferior man? How miserable it would make this vain creature to be wed to a monster, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, Mother," I agreed, but I doubted that anyone could match my mother's vanity.
"You will find me a man like that. Someone truly disgusting. I will give you a potion that will make the young woman fall in love with him. Oh, how delightful it will be to see her lose all of her followers as she dotes on ugliness" My mother chortled. "It is a good plan, no?"
"Yes, Mother."
It would do no good to argue. I knew from experience that if I argued for forbearance, my mother would just become crueler. So, if I wanted lenience, I'd have to find a way to do it subtlety.
(Ceri)
"Can't we be done yet?" I tried not to sound whiny as I collapsed in the sand and rubbed at my calves.
My sister, Awen, frowned at me from behind her fancy camera, "No. You know I need at least two hours of video to edit the perfect five-minute montage, and it's only been one hour. You can't be tired already, can you?"
I sighed and flopped back in the sand, closing my eyes against the brilliant sun. I allowed a tear to leak from one eye. My muscles burned from running in the sand and my head hurt from the unrelenting sun. Awen had not been running, and she wore a baseball cap that protected her face from the sun, of course she was not suffering. I stifled that ungracious thought before it could grow into more resentment.
My sister had taken care of me after our parents died when I was ten. She had been nineteen and newly married and had let me move in with her, rather than sending me to foster care. It was that debt that now, eight years later, I worked to repay. It wasn't my sister's fault that her husband wasted more money than he made, I told myself firmly, she was only trying to make sure we would be able to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths.
"Come on, Ceri. Get up! We're losing the light!"
Sighing, I pushed myself to my feet. I took a deep breath and looked out at the Celtic sea, filling my thoughts with its beauty and majesty. The smell of beach wrack (seaweed and salt) revived my spirits and I smiled. Who couldn't be happy in a setting this lovely?
