"Ladies will start arriving in fifteen minutes. Get the finger food on the table Dean," Gabby Johnson stuck her head out of her bedroom door to project her voice down to the kitchen. She returned to the mirror, adjusted her blouse and took a deep breath as she stared at herself.
Her dark blue formal dress billowed out from her broad hips and almost touched the floor. Ornate buttons fastened up to a white frilled collar against her neck making her blouse the definition of ladylike sophistication and dignity. Her grey hair was tied back with a sapphire studded silver headpiece. She wanted everything to be perfect for the local coven meeting.
After taking a moment to calm her nerves, she made her way down the hallway to inspect her son's progress.
"Last month you over-cooked the spring rolls," she had tension in her voice while moving from the lounge room into the kitchen. Upon arrival, she found Dean turning around while holding a tray of perfectly cooked spring rolls. He smiled proudly for a short moment.
She leaned against the doorway with arms folded.
"Did you clean the bathroom?" she probed.
"Yes," Dean was quick on the reply.
"Will dinner be ready soon?"
"In about half an hour," Dean's irritation was tempered by an understanding that his mother was nervous. The last thing that he wanted was to trigger her anxiety any further.
He understood that she sometimes felt out of place amongst the senior members of the Sisters of Dibella. After several failed business ventures, she barely had the money to put him through school, let alone attract a handsome boyfriend. She was one of the only ladies among the coven leadership who didn't have a man.
Holding the tray with one hand, Dean pulled a platter from the cupboard above him without even looking. Everything had its place. He had been responsible for all cooking and cleaning in the house since he was twelve but was still unaccustomed to preparing a banquet for fifteen ladies with well-developed appetites. Preparing all of the food that his mother requested for the occasion required him to spend half of the previous day shopping and then start preparations at 7 am.
As he turned to the bench to begin plating up the snacks, Gabby noticed that her son was still wearing some battered old track pants that she got him for high school athletics.
"Oh Deany. You're not wearing those ugly old track pants again?! They are hardly appropriate for guests," she said in a pained tone of voice.
Dean loved to wear the black, ragged trousers around the home. They reminded him of the day that he made the high school team. He had trained every day for over a year to make the last place in the reserve relay team.
She always said that he was much more gifted as a homemaker but he detested the thought of being a stay-at-home husband. He loved track but knew that he wasn't a natural athlete.
"If any of my friends knew how I was spending my weekend cooking and cleaning as a domestic servant in this stupid white apron, I would never hear the end of it," he reminded himself as he bit into a hot spring roll gingerly.
"Put on those lovely shorts that you got last week. I assume that you got them for tonight," Miss Johnson used a tone of finality that she only administered on occasion. Dean knew that this meant that any argument or protest would not end well for him. Besides, he hated to make his mother upset.
Dean cringed for a moment. He had bought the hotpants to impress his girlfriend, Charlotte Femworth. In reality, they were more like lingerie than shorts.
He considered telling his mother the real reason that he bought them but he didn't dare open himself up to more invasive questions. If she knew that he had been dating the daughter of Justice Femworth, she would be proud. But then the probing would never end. He would need to lie, something he was always terrible at. He couldn't bear to imagine his mother's reaction if she knew that he had already given his virginity to her.
He recalled the hypnotic sight of her powerful dark brown breasts bouncing in the dim light cast by her bedside table lamp and his desperate plea for her to stop. Their formidable size was a testament to her femininity. The only sounds were her loud moans of satisfaction building towards another orgasm as his penis grew inside of her. He could have stopped her, could have said no. But he didn't want to be that kind of guy. The kind of guy who entices a femme but never puts out. Charlotte talked about how much she hated boys who would abuse their sexual privilege to manipulate honest unsuspecting femme. In that ecstatic moment, he gave in. Half of the school knew about his deflowering only twenty-four hours later; reinforcing her position as queen Bee.
Dean noticed that some of the guys from the track team were a bit more distant with him than normal. He felt like a cheap whore and couldn't blame them for their reaction. The only thing that could drive home his humiliation any more was if she got pregnant; then she would have him for good.
She terrified him. He could never seem to control himself around her and she would always seem to get her way. He knew that he made the right decision in the end. Ending it was the hardest thing that he had ever done, but it felt like too little too late. He certainly couldn't bear to tell his mother any of this because he was sure that the shame would kill her.
Dean realised that his mind had wandered so he turned back to his mother and quickly came up with a response.
"But it's a bit cold tonight," was the best excuse he could come up with to avoid wearing the hotpants.
"Rubbish, you've been working hard enough to stay warm, besides, you can keep the apron on anyway," she said.
The knowledge that his front would at least be covered afforded him some relief.
"Ok," he sighed as he made his way to his room.
The hotpants proudly carried the 'CG' logo that gave them an air of class that Dean had never felt before. The white elastic pant legs ran only an inch below his bottom, leaving his smooth-shaven legs exposed. He picked white because it was the color of virginity. Looking at himself in the mirror made him feel like a fraud. The thin elastic fabric did little to hide his genitals; an outline of his plentiful charms pressed against the tight fabric and left very little to the femme imagination. He was proud of his masculine assets, but using them to entice a bunch of horny old witches was the last thing that he wanted. His mother's friends made him feel uneasy even when he dressed modestly.
He swallowed hard and slipped on a light-blue tight sleeveless shirt then tied the apron around himself and turned in the mirror to see the material riding all the way up his ass crack; as if the pants were painted on. The fabric pressed uncomfortably against his genitals. But at least his genital bulge was covered by the apron; something for which he was eternally grateful.
Dean sat on his bed and began slipping on some socks and shoes.
