Somewhere along the line my son Jason turned into an arrogant prick. I guess it started when he got onto the basketball team at his high school. He was pretty good looking and athletic I noticed he had lots of different girls around all the time. They called and texted his cell at all hours and sent him flirty messages on Facebook --I know because I monitored his Facebook account and cell phone. I'm a good mom and it's my job to know what's going on in his life.
The arrogance got really bad during his senior year after he turned eighteen. He started walking around our apartment like he owned the place, and giving me lip when I wanted to see his phone. At first I cut him some slack, I thought he was just going through a phase. His dad was not a part of his life, and I figured he just lacked positive male role models, but his swaggering macho bullshit was really getting under my skin.
I hadn't realized how bad it had become until Cindy Jenkins paid me a visit one afternoon. Cindy is a meek little divorced woman who lives in our apartment building. She is childless and lives with her elderly mother, I guess she's in her mid forties.
She knocked on my door out of the blue and said she needed to talk to me. We sat in my living room and I offered her coffee but she declined. She came right to the point and told me that Jason had used her for sex and discarded her like a piece of trash. Apparently it had been going on for months --he would go over to her apartment after school every day before he came home. She apologized profusely but insisted that he had initiated the relationship.
She said that he abruptly stopped coming over and when she confronted him about it he laughed in her face. She was crying as she told me all this, and I couldn't help but feel pity for the poor woman. Since Jason's father left us I'd had my heart broken twice by men who just wanted sex whenever they felt like it. I knew what she was going through.
"The reason I'm telling you all this is because I think he's really messed up emotionally. I don't think he ever saw me as a real person, we never really made love, it was like he was using me to masturbate. I was just a warm place for him to stick his thing. He's cruel and cold, and I thought you, as his mother, should know."
Her words echoed in my head long after she'd left. I knew what she'd said was true, I could see that my son was becoming the sort of man I despised with all my heart. When I was in college I was raped by a swaggering macho jock. He was a golden-boy on campus and I knew that no one would believe that he would come after the likes of me. He could've had any girl he wanted. When I look back on it I'm filled with burning rage, and I still harbor some pretty sick revenge fantasies.
My son would probably do the same thing to someone someday, if he hadn't already. I couldn't let that happen, I had to do something drastic. I'll be honest and tell you that my first impulse was to kill him and make it look like an accident. I'd strangle him with a belt and then after he was dead, pull his pants down and put his dick in his hand to make it look like he was into auto-erotic asphyxiation. Then I wouldn't be responsible for sending another raping asshole into the world.
But I knew I couldn't do that. He's my son and I loved him in spite of what he'd become. No, I decided to give him a chance. I'd see if I could re-educate him through extreme measures and I'd only kill him if he resisted too much.
XXX
"MOM!" I shouted coming in the door. I was so pissed off. She was sitting in the kitchen, looking at her laptop. "What the hell did you say to my coach? He sent me home from practice and said I wouldn't be allowed to come back until I had your permission." I could tell from the look on her face that she was in one of her moods. I was used to it, but taking me out of basketball was too much. Now the whole team would know my mom was a psycho bitch from hell. I looked around. "What's with all these boxes?" I asked. "Are we moving?"
She shut her computer and looked at me. "It's all the stuff that was in your room." She said. "I'm getting rid of it all."
"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" I turned and went to my room and found it completely empty. There was nothing, no bed, no clothes, no dresser, just an empty room. I was so mad I almost missed the fact that she had installed a sliding lock on the outside of the door to my room, and that wasn't all, there was also a peephole, like we have on the front door of our apartment, installed so the person on the outside could see in.
I turned and she was right there behind me. "Well, what do you think?" She asked.
"Where's my stuff?"
"Your stuff? You don't have any." She said. "All that crap in there belonged to me, I bought it, and I decided that I don't want it anymore so I'm getting rid of it all. If you have a problem with that you know where the front door is, you can leave."
"Mom, what's going on? What'd I do?" I was trying hard not to cry.
"You think you can treat another human being like trash?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Cindy Jenkins." She said. I stared at her not knowing how to react. It was just like Cindy to come to my mother with a sob story. That was how she got me, telling me sob stories on the elevator. I just started fucking her because I felt bad for her. Jesus, try to do some people a favor...
"Mom, if you throw out all my clothes what am I supposed to wear to school tomorrow?" I asked.
"If you plan on staying in this house you wont be going to school tomorrow -and another thing, stop calling me mom. From now on you will address me as mommy. You stopped calling me mommy when you were twelve years old and that's when the trouble began. Now give me the clothes you have on so I can put them out with the trash."
"The clothes I have on?"
"NOW!" she shouted.
"But what am I supposed to wear?" I asked. In reply I got a hard smack across the face. Mom was a strong lady. Big and strong.
"What am I supposed to wear mommy." She corrected.
My stomach turned and I thought I might puke. I looked at my mother and realized that she was getting off on this in a sexual way. "Wh-what am I supposed to wear mommy?" I said.
"That's better," she said, "and you'll wear whatever the fuck I tell you to wear, and you'll like it. Now take off all your clothes. Underwear too, I'm you mother you don't have to be shy."
