Author's Note: This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.
Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
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Angela Stohl felt the bile rise in her throat as she heard the crunch of the clam shell drive in front of the trailer. A moment later, she heard one, then the second car door slam shut.
"Hey Mom," Charlie Stohl called out as he and Theresa Melancon entered the double wide trailer.
"We got the cutest costumes," Theresa enthused, clutching a big plastic bag to her chest.
"Oh! What's wrong with the costumes you're already wearing? A fucking useless slut and her God damned idiot boyfriend?" Angela sniped.
"See? I told you. You should have let me get the Angela Stohl costume," Theresa said to Charlie.
Smiling sweetly at Angela, Theresa continued. "It's you know, a self-righteous narcissistic bitch. But I am sure I'd never be able to get that big of a stick so far up my ass."
Charlie beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom. Angela and Theresa both readied for another exchange of hateful invectives. Suddenly, Theresa clammed up and followed Charlie.
"Got all kind of money for stupid costumes but get your own place? Nnnooo!" Angela snarled, stomping to her own bedroom.
Angela conveniently forgot, any time Charlie or Theresa mentioned moving out, she begged, whined, and manipulated them into staying on. Any time they readied to find another place to live, Angela pointed out that they would be having a baby in just a few months. Babies needed constant care; they were both still in college.
Entering her bedroom, Angela flopped down onto her bed. She cursed her husband; the spineless wimp had married her only because he'd managed to get Angela knocked up.
"I tried. God knows I tried," Angela snarled up at the ceiling, remembering Andrew Stohl's litany of complaints about her, about their baby boy, about their marriage.
"Ran off, left me to raise a boy on my own," Angela spat at the ceiling.
Suddenly, Angela sat up. She stared at the door of her bathroom; there was a glow coming from the small chink between door and doorjamb.
"Oh, that little bitch," Angela snarled.
A few weeks after Theresa had barged into their trailer, announcing her pregnancy, the little tramp had moved herself in. Then, they'd all come down with the flu.
Angela had staggered from kitchen to her bedroom, her sanctuary, only to see a pale and sweating Theresa exiting her bathroom. Angela had shrilled that this was her bedroom, her bathroom. No one, no one was ever to invade her bedroom or her bathroom. EVER.
"Fine, fine, next time Charlie's hogging the bathroom, I'll just go shit in the kitchen sink," Theresa had screamed at Angela.
"Little bitch knows they're not to use my..." Angela said loudly, standing.
"So? What do you think?" Theresa asked, sliding the door of Angela's bathroom open with a loud bang.
Theresa barged from bathroom into Angela's bedroom, Angela's sanctuary. Whirling around, Angela glowered at her son's freakish girlfriend, with her numerous facial piercings and gaudy, trashy swastika tattoos. Right behind the mutant, Charlie stood, regarding his mother with reddened eyes.
They had both dyed their hair black. And, protruding through the unkempt thatches of black hair, Theresa and Charlie wore two horns. Their faces and throats were covered in a dull red hue. Even their hands were stained in the grotesque red. Their skin blended perfectly with their dull dark red body stockings that went from throat to ankle.
Looking at Theresa's reddened face, Angela supposed the girl would actually be pleasing to look at without all of the metal adornments But the metal rings glittered and shimmered in the weak light of Angela's bedside lamp. The body stocking displayed two heavy breasts with charcoal black areolae. Each thick nipple sported a thick silver hoop that glittered and shimmered in the pale light.
Angela shook her head, smirking at the obscene garment; it even displayed an unruly thatch of black hairs covering Theresa's crotch. Bisecting the triangle from point to base was a thin slash of dull red.
Charlie, her sweet little boy Charlie was a chubby, pudgy little thing in his own vulgar, pornographic body stocking. The costume even featured a large, dull red cock and large dangling balls, with a scruff of black hair.
The smell of their hair dye or their skin coloring, or perhaps the combination of both dye and coloring was intolerable. Angela sneezed as the sulfuric odor assailed her nostrils.
"Both of you, leave my room. NOW! And take those disgusting... God, those, that's pornographic," Angela shrilled.
"Shut up. Damnation! Do you ever cease?" Theresa ordered, shoving Angela backward onto her bed.
"Wha... How, how dare you?" Angela spluttered, truly outraged.
"Oo-heh!" Charlie giggled.
Angela recognized the sound; it was the delighted sound her infant son used to make when he was happy. Lying in his crib, staring up at his jingling jangling mobile, he would coo. Or, releasing her nipple, her baby boy would let out that odd little utterance.
"Oo-heh!" he said, scrambling up onto his mother's bed, large fat cock and balls dangling obscenely.
"You know, Angela, your problem? You just need to get fucked," Theresa hissed, the talons of her left hand easily slicing through the large upholstered buttons of Angela's housecoat.
"Ack! I, stop! Stop that!" Angela ordered as her dress fell open, baring her plain white bra and full cotton briefs.
"Provocative," Theresa mocked, then used her claws to shred Angela's undergarments, baring her saggy breasts and full bush of dark brown hairs.
"Oo-heh, oo-heh, oo-heh!" Charlie cackled, stroking his expanding cock.
"Stop! I, no, no, I..." Angela cried out, trying to cover her nude form with her hands.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Fires of Hell, woman, do you ever cease?" Theresa snarled, forcefully grabbing Angela's lips between thumb and forefinger and squeezing her mouth closed.
"Oo?" Charlie asked, pointing a gnarled finger toward Angela's crotch.
"Of course you can," Theresa cooed sweetly.
