This account deals with potentially triggering content such as: Events that could be considered physical or sexual abuse, and borderline incest between a mother and her son. It also contains first hand remembrances of depression, involuntarily celibacy, social isolation, and agoraphobia. So if any of that may bother you, you have been warned.
Introduction
My name is Mark, and this story takes place in the autumn of the year I was 22. My family situation was fairly cliche' for a semi-dysfunctional middle class American family circa 2000ce. Dad was rarely home, and mostly just argued with Mom when he was. My little sister had just left for college. Which meant that it was pretty much just Mom and I at home.
I was in a pretty bad state. Growing up, I fit many of the incel/neckbeard/weirdo etc. stereotypes. I was obese during my childhood and adolescence, which had devastated my social standing and confidence to the point that I hadn't developed social skills.
During my teenage years I went through constant rejection and unrequited love. I couldn't talk to girls at all and had difficulty even keeping ties with my childhood buddies.
After high school, I became a hikikomori. Although that is a Japanese word, it is the closest I can find to describe my condition. I experienced a mental breakdown that resulted in severe agoraphobia. I was unable to speak more than a couple syllables at a time, and I was completely unable to leave the house.
At the time I didn't work or attend school. I had an inheritance of a few thousand dollars from my great-grandparents that I lived on in addition to my parents taking care of me.
In an attempt to recover from my mental breakdown, I started a diet and exercise regimen just after I graduated high school. I blamed my obesity for why no one wanted to be my friend, so I mail ordered a weight set and a stationary exercise bike. Over the four years between graduation and the events of this story, I lost over 100 pounds, and became very physically strong.
I had assumed that once I was fit, it would be easy to find a girlfriend. Making friends obviously didn't happen, as I was a shut-in. But I stubbornly maintained my regimen of calorie counting and bodybuilding.
Unfortunately, it seemed my efforts were in vain as instead of making myself attractive I just looked scary. One of the symptoms of my depression was poor self-care, which caused red scaly patches of dermatitis on my pale skin, and thin, greasy, uncut hair. Coupled with my 6'3" 230lb muscular body and heavy features I looked like a real-life Frankenstein's monster.
My Mother's name is Anne. She is 5'9" tall. Her face and body type sort of resemble the actress Sigourney Weaver, although Mom is a little fuller figured, with a rounder butt and breasts. At the time of this story she was in her mid 40s. She had dark hair that she kept shoulder length, but almost always wore up in hair clips. It was just starting to go grey at the temples. Her skin is soft and fair, which contrasts with her hair. At the time of this story she was inspired by my weight loss and had taken up hiking and dieting and was fit and shapely for a woman of her age.
Mom worked as an ER nurse at a nearby hospital. She was under a huge amount of stress from her work, marital difficulties with dad, financial worries, and of course not knowing what to do with her failing son.
Generally, Mom has a loving, fun personality. She did have a terrible temper when she was younger, that appeared when she was stressed or tired. I've always loved her very much, but was also a little afraid of her mood swings.
Mom and I had drifted apart during the years between my mental breakdown and the events of this story. She had tried to maintain a relationship with me during the first year or so, but my sullen silence had been impenetrable.
I had gradually restarted interacting with my mother a few months before this story begins. I seemed to spontaneously recover a little, being able to think and speak more coherently, and I was extremely lonely. I started by thanking Mom when she brought home groceries, and progressed to short conversations and visits. She was supportive and patient, and after a while I was able to talk with her normally. Mom was lonely too, and we rediscovered that we got along well, and we would often keep each other company when she was home.
Chapter 1
Ok, that probably illustrates the situation enough for context. It all started in August. Our house has all kinds of books, and we even had a book on Wicca. There were some parts of it that were kind of taboo, such as many of the rituals are performed "skyclad" i.e. nude, and it illustrated some basic bondage harness ties for initiating coven members, etc.
I noticed Mom reading it and we kind of joked about it and she said she was going to try some spells for fun. I didn't think anything of it and pretty much forgot about it.
A few days later, she was working 2nd shift and got home around midnight. I was in my room but I heard her come in, and do her usual post-work routine of bathroom, change out of her scrubs, feed the cats, and check her plants. I would sometimes come upstairs to say hello to her once she had decompressed with her post-work ritual.
On this particular night it seemed like she was taking forever to come in from watering her plants. It was also weird because the back porch light was off, which I could see through the basement window. Although to be fair it was a full moon so it was pretty bright. I decided to go see what was going on.
I got up and went upstairs. I was barefoot and she had left the back door open so she didn't hear me. She was outside in her garden, completely nude, performing one of the rituals from the book. She was about ten or 15 feet from the door. Her back was to me, and she was kneeling and bending over one of her flowerbeds and was chanting over it or something.
This was the first time I had seen a naked woman in person. Her fair skin glowed in the moonlight, her hair was down around her shoulders, my gaze went from her head down to her back and finally her ass, bent forward with her cheeks parted slightly. At the sight of her butt, a lifetime of sexual denial and frustration lurched through me. My body didn't seem to care that she was my mother.
I couldn't think clearly, and my ears started to ring slightly. My penis immediately became erect, pushing the threadbare sweatpants I was wearing out like a tent. The entire event only lasted a second or two, until she noticed me. She made an eek! sound in surprise and stood up and grabbed her robe from the bird feeder holder that she had hung it from.
Quickly putting it on she came towards me, saying "Hi, Mark, I was just doing one of the nurturing growth spells from the witch book, for my plants. I needed to be skyclad."
I could tell she was embarrassed, but all I could do is mumble, "Oh, cool, but isn't the growing season almost over?"
"These are chrysanthemums." She said.
