Flying Money Express

Author's Forward:

Two described locations in the following work are fictitious: New Kent, a large city on the East Coast of the US somewhere between Boston, Massachusetts and Charleston, South Carolina, and Lutton, the seat of the equally nonexistent Quinn County in Kansas. I simply wanted settings that could be whatever I wanted without violating reality because I'm anal like that.

As always, all characters appearing in described sexual situations are over the age of 18. The female main character conceived and gave birth to the male main character before the age of 18 due to a sexual assault when she was not aware, conscious, or capable of resistance. Since this fact is central to her character and explanatory of her living situation, it will be mentioned in the story but not described, nor is it intended or written to be sexually titillating, and as such it does not violate the standards of Literotica.com.

Let's get this out of the way: this story takes its time. This story is an examination of how a mother and son who are not attracted to each other before the story move closer and eventually find intimacy unavoidable, with the attendant joys and difficulties it brings. As such, I lay out at length how they are at the beginning and why, and how and why they move together. There is sexual activity described in this chapter but most of it is not described in detail; sex, like anything else, is boring if too much of it is presented. Any complaints about how the story is "slow" or "needs more sex" or "why isn't he fucking his mom by page 3" will be ignored, as the people making those complaints obviously didn't read this preface. Later chapters will see much more, and more explicit, sex.

Also, geeky 18-year-olds would absolutely be talking in Brainrot much of the time, but I am too damned old to type "skibidi" more than once.

All persons, place, and situations appearing in this story are imaginary. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is a result of your diseased imagination

.

Flying Monkey Express, Chapter 1

Wednesday, August 27

When Ethan Mitchell stepped into his family's kitchen that morning, he was quite literally dripping with sweat. The end of August in Kent City marked the middle of the dog days, when heat and humidity soared and the usual ocean winds failed; the result was long, sweltering days of unrelieved misery for anyone without the blessings of air conditioning. Fortunately the Mitchell family had air conditioning (and even more fortunately it was working for the moment, which wasn't always the case), so their small house was a reasonable oasis in a time of wretchedness.

He had been out for his daily run - it was best to do it in the early morning because it was cooler then, but also because it was the safest time for someone to be out alone on the streets. Their neighborhood, Suttonfield, was not one of the worst in the city, but it wasn't free from danger either, especially during economically precarious times. Still, he had never been accosted while running first thing in the morning - maybe creeps and thugs and assholes slept late.

He peeled off his tee shirt and wiped his chest with it just as his father walked into the room. His dad, Harley, was dressed for his latest job, which was as an office manager for a company called Pine Nut Wholesale - Ethan wasn't entirely sure what the company did, but his dad worked as a standard-issue cat-herder. "Hey, there you are," Harley said. "Good morning. Have fun?"

"It was a blast." A sharp-eared listener might have detected sarcasm in his tone. Ethan enjoyed running, but the kind of hard running he did most mornings was grueling and miserable in weather like this. "I think I should be able to do better in Track this year, though. Last year was pretty disappointing."

"Well, take a shower and get cleaned up. You need to be at the airport by 10:15, remember."

"I know. Have a good day, pop."

"You too," Harley said as he grabbed a Red Bull out of the fridge. "Hug your mom for me."

"I will." Seeing her would be a big deal: this would be the first time he'd seen his mother in eight months almost to the day. His Grandma - his mom's mom - had been in an automobile accident on the day after Christmas last year and his mom, Brianna, had flown back to her hometown in Kansas to take care of her. What had begun as a six-week trip had morphed into a multi-month endurance contest, since grandma's recuperation was slow and Brianna felt obligated to stay and help her through it.

Ethan didn't envy her a bit. Lutton, Kansas was a shithole of the worst sort and it was filled with terrible memories for her as well as for Harley, which was why they almost never visited. Ethan had lived there his first three years but remembered almost nothing from that time; in all the years since, they had gone back as a family just once, when Ethan was 10, and that trip had been filled with wretchedness and violence. He never wanted to go back.

He took a shower and then a leisurely breakfast and plenty of time to scroll through his socials, which made a relaxing change from how he'd spent his summer. He'd just gotten back himself three days before, so little things like unlimited internet time still seemed like tremendous luxuries. He wasn't complaining - his summer at his Aunt Tina's and Uncle Jim's farm had done him a world of good in every way - but you only really appreciate your creature comforts after you'd lost them for a while.

By 9:00 he was in his car - well, more accurately he was in his mom's nine-year-old Ford Escape, since that was the only vehicle available to him - and heading east. The airport was basically a twelve-mile straight shot into the suburbs, since the entrance to the highway was barely a half-mile from the Mitchell front door. Still, Highway 77 was torn up for construction (as always) and most of the drive would be spent either moving slowly or not moving at all, so getting an early start was necessary. He put on his sunglasses, commanded Spotify to commence a driving music playlist, and headed off.

Traveling slowly on a highway affords one a good chance to think, and he had a lot to think about. His senior year of high school was right around the corner - just six days hence - and since he had changed a lot over the summer, he was looking forward to seeing if life would be better or worse. Simply put, he was a computer geek, and while school work had always come easy, the social aspect had opened him to bullying and ostracization from most of his peers. He had five very good, very nerdy friends who had been together as a group for six years now, but he had never made any inroads into other cliques. Maybe -

maybe

- that would change this year, if he wanted it to.

Another thing he was looking forward to was getting some free time. For the past three years, he'd spent every spare second (and then some) on a game he was making

,

which had started out as a lark at computer camp, a way to learn to program better and nothing more. But it had captured his attention and had gotten bigger and bigger as time went by, until it had turned into his white whale. He'd even roped in his two best friends, Vincent and Olinka, to help. He had done the lion's share of the work on it, but Olinka had polished the graphics and Vincent had spent the summer troubleshooting it from feedback gained from a small playtest they'd run for members of an online coding community they were part of. They were planning to put it up for sale in various store when it was done, but he expected nobody but friends and family to buy it. It didn't matter - Ethan just wanted it on his high school resume and, from there, in his rear-view mirror. He wanted his life back.

Up ahead, a car had broken down in the center lane and brought progress to a standstill. A state highway patrolman worked his way slowly up the shoulder to try to do something about it, but meanwhile there was nothing for Ethan to do but wait.

He couldn't help but wonder how his mom's summer had been. They'd had little contact between the end of December and the beginning of June, because Grandma Jenkins's home was a couple miles outside of a little town with rotten cell coverage, which meant that texts and emails only got sent when Brianna had gone into town; after the beginning of June, when Ethan had gone to his own summer spot, they'd barely communicated at all. He was pretty sure it had been a lousy summer for her, because Lutton was

fucking awful

.

His mom's father, Grandpa Jenkins, had run a feed & seed store in town until the economy collapsed; fortunately, he'd invested wisely and had enough money to maintain a sort of genteel poverty after his store went under. He'd managed to keep the house to make sure there was a roof over the heads of Grandma Jenkins, Brianna, and Brianna's older sister Tina. Grandpa Jenkins had died six years ago - his funeral was the cause of Ethan's only trip back to Lutton - and what few memories Ethan had of him from the odd video call and the couple of times his grandparents had come to New Kent to visit were of a profoundly conservative man, distrustful of outsiders and their ways (in spite of the fact that his own preferred way of life had collapsed utterly), and full of aphorisms about the virtue of thrift and savings and wisdom with money. Ethan had never thought he'd been a lovable sort of grandfather, an attitude that he'd no doubt picked up from Brianna's lingering resentment of her father.

The truth was, Ethan didn't know much about either of his parents' families or the lives they lived before moving to New Kent, which was definitely how his parents wanted it. What little he did know had been stitched together from occasional vague mentions by his parents, greatly supplemented by his Aunt Tina over this past summer. He knew that Brianna had been raised to be a fervent, unquestioning Southern Baptist (which was amusing since it would now take a gun to Brianna's head to get her into church for anything but a wedding or a funeral) and she had been a good student, primarily with a focus on learning enough to run a household as a traditional wife for her eventual husband. All-in-all, the Jenkins' were one of the most respected families in a very conservative town, and Brianna looked to be a pea in the pod.

Not so the Mitchells. His father had come from a dissolute and debauched family with a generations-long history of criminality and ne'er-do-wellism. Grandpa Mitchell had died of a drug overdose long before Ethan was born, and Grandma Mitchell was doing a twenty-year stretch in state prison for attempted murder of a police officer who came to raid her drug stash. His dad had brothers and sisters too, but Ethan only knew about two of them: Uncle Joe, a career criminal currently on the run, whereabouts unknown (with whom Ethan and his father had had a very unpleasant run-in during their trip back to town) and Uncle Deacon, called Deke, who had been sent to prison for armed robbery, escaped, and went on a tri-state killing spree before the cops shot him down like a mad dog in a convenience store outside of Tulsa.

And that, really, was all he knew about his ancestors and relations. His parents had gotten together after his mom had become pregnant under circumstances neither one would discuss (Aunt Tina had also refused to go into it, saying only that neither his mom nor his dad had been conscious when he was conceived - he didn't understand how that was possible, and Tina had refused to explain). Their marriage had never been a warm one and he wasn't even sure his parents loved each other in the traditional sense: his mom had always respected and honored his dad for sticking by her when Ethan was born, saying only that he had assumed responsibility when nobody expected him to, while his father had steadily grown more distant from his wife and especially his son as time had gone on. Harley and Brianna were friendly with each other and seldom argued, but there seemed to be no heat, no passion, and little to keep them together apart from the fact that a married couple could live more cheaply than two people on their own.

Even as his dad had steadily and slowly drawn away for reasons he never understood, Ethan had remained close to his mother. She was a shy, awkward woman who had never gotten over having him so young - her social skills had never really developed and she was uncomfortable talking to people. He'd always suspected that her weight problems contributed to that as well, since she carried around eighty extra pounds on a frame that was barely five feet, two inches tall. Her hair was the shade of light brown that might almost be said to be no color at all, and she wore it in a long style that fell easily across her face, letting her hide behind it. He'd always thought it perfect that she worked as a librarian in the city library system - although he'd heard that she was very outgoing with the child patrons, who loved her in return, he couldn't imagine the same was true of adults who went there. She seemed the sort of person who desired nothing more than to drift through life unnoticed.

Of all the things he'd missed that summer - home, his friends, the internet, working on his game - he'd missed his mom the most. In some ways they were very alike: both smart, both intellectual, both funny (though she only showed her sense of humor to him and a couple of her close friends), both victims of severe school bullying because of things outside of their control. Many had been the day when he'd carried home his bruises, mostly emotional but sometimes physical, to be comforted by her. She always worked her ass off too, always taking care of the cooking and the housework even when she was in school full time, or, later, at the library full time. As he'd gotten older and some of his friendships deepened, he had relied more on them as emotional supports, but he'd never lost his appreciation for his mom and for everything she did.

In spite of his parents' resolute efforts keep the details of their early lives secret from him, but he knew that they were both still in high school (and his mother was only a freshman) when he was born. Early on, he'd picked up hints that their lives - especially his mom's life - had been very difficult because of him. Aunt Tina had filled some of that in for him over the summer in a brief exchange where she told him that after Brianna had gotten pregnant with him, her life had consisted of school, homework, childcare, help with housework, and school the next day, broken only by the Sundays when her parents would drag her to church to pray for redemption for her soul, which was soiled by being the survivor of a sexual assault.

Driving in the airport was a pain in the ass - you always seemed to be in exactly the wrong lane to get where you needed to go. Eventually, though, he found a spot in one of the parking lots and caught a shuttle to the gate where his mom's American Airlines flight would disembark. He had almost half an hour - he would make it easily. As he waited, he wondered if his mother would even recognize him - after all, he had a changed a lot over the summer.

*

Somewhere a hundred miles inland, Brianna Mitchell sat looking out the window of her airplane, seeing land and clouds pass by. It had been a very, very long eight months since she had been home. She was desperate for the embrace of normalcy.

Her mother had been very badly injured when the car she was driving got T-boned by a truck carrying a couple thousand live chickens, and she'd desperately needed someone there around the clock to help her, especially for the first few months. That meant either Brianna or her sister Tina had to go be the attendant; both were in precarious financial situations, but Tina had two underaged children at home and several small businesses to help run, which left it up to Brianna. They'd settled up by Tina taking in Ethan for the summer (eighteen-year-old boys ate enough for several ordinary people) and covering Brianna's half of the mortgage payment on the house in New Kent.

Still, Brianna hadn't wanted to go. Her relationship with her mother had been strained since Brianna had become pregnant by means of rape, and the thought of spending months cooped up together was excruciating. It turned out, though, that her mom had mellowed a lot in the six years since Brianna's dad had died of cancer, and that aspect of the trip was more tolerable than she'd expected it to be.

All those horrible people who'd made her life miserable when she was young, who'd taunted and pilloried her for being an unmarried teen mother knocked up by someone from the worst family in the county - they were all still stuck there: drunks, tweakers, junkies, either criminals or living off the largesse of a Federal government they constantly professed hatred for. You could smell the misery-stink of the dying town by driving through it with your windows rolled up. And there she was, the derided one, the scorned one, the one who was everyone's target - and the one who'd gotten away from it all to have a decent career in a place far away, with a stable marriage that every single person there had assured her wouldn't last a year. She'd showed them, and she loved rubbing their hateful little piggy noses in it, just like she loved getting better right before their disbelieving eyes.

Still, just existing in that milieu for eight months had been hard on her soul. She'd missed her job at the library, she'd missed her own bed, she'd missed being able to watch what she wanted on TV, she'd missed

home.

She'd missed her husband Harley, a good and decent man who was a friend and a life-partner. Most of all, though, she missed her little boy.

Of course, Ethan wasn't a little boy anymore, he was eighteen years old - she'd also missed his birthday, since she'd been stuck in Kansas and he'd been at her sister Tina's farm in Indiana - but he was still

little.

He'd always been small, the smallest boy in his class, short and skinny, with a head that looked like it belonged to a bigger kid. She adored her little stringbean, as she called him, and she had always admired his mind and his drive; he learned quickly in anything he lent himself to, and he had the will to carry through to the end whatever he started.

His will was the only sticking point, really, because ever since he was little he was extraordinarily...well,

stubborn

wasn't quite the right word. He certainly never threw a tantrum after he outgrew the Terrible Twos. He had simply always known what he wanted and was always willing to ask for it and, if necessary, pursue it. At first she had done her best to enforce her will and make sure Ethan toed the line, but over time she grew to trust him and let him have his way more and more often. He never asked for anything extravagant, never abused the trust she placed in him, and was anything but a spoiled brat - he simply had a good head on his shoulders from a very young age, coupled with a good heart and a caring nature. By the time he entered high school he already seemed to possess more emotional adeptness and awareness than she had today. It was just better to follow his lead on things that directly concerned him, and she became comfortable ceding that control to him. By the time she'd left for her Kansas sojourn, she had more faith in her son than in anyone else in the world, possibly including herself.

She only wished that Harley had as good a relationship with Ethan as she did. Up until the time Ethan was seven or eight, they'd been very close - they'd loved to spend time together, and Harley played with him and helped him with his homework. Then Harley had started to draw away because of other things going on in his life and the depression those things caused. Ethan had been so hurt when the daddy he loved began doing less and less with him, and he was too young to understand why his father was so sad and why nothing he did seemed to help.