At first, my mom was relieved to only get 12 months house arrest. She and my father had both been charged with embezzling over a million dollars from the company they worked for. He was the Chief Financial Officer and she was just an accountant at the company. At their trial, my father's attorneys tried to pin the whole thing on my mom. Thankfully, the judge saw through that. It was clear my father was the mastermind and my mother was just his pawn. While my mom got the year of house arrest, my father got 15 years in prison.
While house arrest sounded like an easier sentence to serve as opposed to being in a jail, it ended up being worse for my mother. In jail, her day would have been regimented; she'd get up at the same time, have her meals at the same time, exercise at the same time, etc. While on house arrest, her only obligation was community service 10 hours a week at a woman's shelter. She wore an ankle monitor 24/7 and was only allowed to leave her house to go to the local grocery store. So she found herself spending a lot of time in bed, watching television, eating or sleeping.
In theory, her friends could visit. But after the trial, the family name was mud. She suddenly found she no longer had friends. My father was a dominant force in our family, so her social life revolved around him and people he knew. Now he was in prison, no one called, no one wanted to be associated with her.
I'm her son and her only child. Really, I'm her only family as well. My father isolated my mom from her siblings during their 20-some years of marriage. So she was estranged from everyone except me. My mother and I were close while I was growing up. My father and I, not so much. He was obsessed with accumulating wealth and social status. As long as his wife looked good at parties and his son ended up in a reputable university, he was satisfied. He believed you had to be a 'family man' to have a good reputation in the business world. So I always felt like a prop rather than his son.
I did end up in a good university. I graduated with degrees in both marketing and computer programming. I finished developing my first cell phone app with a buddy of mine when my parents were arrested. I lived on the other side of the country, so I kept updated on the legal proceeding through phone calls from my mom. But otherwise, I could carry on with my new business.
Like I mentioned, my mom was relieved when she got house arrest at the end of the trial. I think she was equally relieved my father was going to prison. She felt completely betrayed when he tried to pin the crime on her. She talked about divorce after that with every phone call.
It was only about 6 weeks into her year-long house arrest that I began to detect the depression that she was dealing with. It was during the third month that I really became concerned. She would call and not say anything, just cry softly. She wouldn't answer when I tried to speak to her. She would just cry and cry. That's when I bought a plane ticket and flew home.
I took a taxi from the airport when I arrived. The grass in the front yard hadn't been mowed for weeks. I knew that was a bad sign. Mom had always been fit and handy in the yard. Mowing was always something I dare say she enjoyed. I rang the doorbell and waited. I knew she had to be home or at the store. It was a Saturday and I knew she did have community service obligations. Finally, she came to the door. My heart broke when I saw her. She had always kept up her appearance. Not only because my father insisted, but she was a woman who took pride in how she presented herself. Now here she was; wearing a stained, ratty bathrobe, her once long and lustrous brunette hair was cut short and was now various shades of brown and gray. Her fingernails were short and chewed. I could see her legs from the knee down and they were clearly unshaven. There were bags under her once bright eyes. Her face looked old, pale and broken, her once bright white smile now yellow and dingy.
She looked at me for a few moments like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then she threw her arms around me and broke out in sobs. The faint smell of b.o. hit me as I held her there in the doorway. The initial feeling of sadness I felt for my mother was soon replaced by a feeling anger. How could she allow herself to fall into such a state? She appeared to only be living in her bedroom. In every other room, the shades were drawn. The air was musty and stale. The trash was full of empty nighttime cough syrup bottles. This was how she was coping with her arrest? I wanted to take her over my knee and tan her hide.
So it was a mixture of love, anger, pity and resolve that I sat her down and explained how things were going to change. First, I was moving in... immediately. I would sell my share of the business. My partner and I had created it to sell anyway and we had offers on the table. The money wouldn't be enough for a 22 year old to live in luxury the rest of his life, but it would be enough to live very well for the next several years. My mom almost jumped for joy at the idea of me back home.
Second, she was going to get it together under my supervision; no more self-medicating with cough syrup, no more laying in bed all day, no more ignoring her health and hygiene. I was going to arrange for a personal trainer to come to the house. I would buy the equipment needed to workout. I was also setting her up with online classes. I wanted her to get an understanding of what I do. That way, once her confinement was over, she could work for me on whatever I decided to develop next.
Mom began to cry again as I finished explaining the changes we were going to implement. But they weren't tears of despair as she had been crying. She was crying in both shame at her current state and gratitude that I was dedicating myself to her betterment.
I spent almost two weeks at my mom's initially. I got her set up on all the things I had promised. Unfortunately, I need to go back out west for a month. My mom hugged me tight when I left, promising she wouldn't slip up while I was gone. I had to finalize the sale of my business, get out of my apartment lease and basically tie up all my loose ends. I had a girlfriend there I had been seeing for about 4 months. The sex between us was hot and plentiful. I liked her a lot and we might have gotten serious, but this situation with my mother demanded we end things. That was the hardest part of moving back home.
I was feeling some regrets when I arrived at my mom's a month later. But then she opened the door and I was blown away. She was the beautiful woman I remember growing up... times 10! The transformation was truly incredible. When I saw her six weeks before, she looked like she was 60, 60 years old and broken by life. She was actually only 40 years old. Now as she stood before me, she could have passed for 30. And not just 30, a healthy, happy, SEXY 30 year old who had nothing but hope and optimism for the future.
I hadn't told her when I was arriving, so she was about to get a quick workout in. She was wearing black yoga pants and a sports bra. Wow! Her body was amazing. Her tits were full and mouthwatering, more than a mouthful for sure. Her legs were tight and shapely. Her ass was on the fat side, which was how I loved a woman's ass. She had her hair up, but I could see she was growing it out. It was the dark brown which looked so good on her. Her face was clean and glowing. Her beautiful white smile was full of joy when she saw me. I forgot all about the life I had just left behind.
We sat down and she excitedly told me all about her life since I had left. There was nothing about the shame of her crime, the loss of social status or 'friends'. Instead, she beamed as she told me about her school and working out. I was so happy to see her transformed. She was really blooming like she never had before.
As for myself, I didn't want to just sit around for the next 8 months, waiting for mom's sentence to be up. So I signed up at a local technical school to become a massage therapist. I didn't think I'd ever do it for a living, but it seemed like a skill I could use in my personal life. Offering a girl a massage is always a sly move towards lovemaking. So I thought, what the hell, might as well be good at it.
From the moment I moved back in, the dynamic between mom and myself was more husband and wife than mother and son. I'd come home from school and she'd have dinner ready. I'd tell her about my school, she'd tell me about her workout or classes. Then I'd clean up, we'd watch tv on the couch then say goodnight.
On days we were both free, I tried to make it special since mom couldn't leave the house. I'd either have a fancy dinner delivered or I would make it myself. We'd both dress up as if on a date. We'd have a candlelit meal in the dining room, maybe with some wine. Then we'd watch a rented movie, always holding hands. The evening would end with a chaste kiss and a long hug, or at least they did at first. As the months rolled on, the kisses were getting less and less chaste.
We both felt it; our relationship was evolving. We both wanted more. We both wanted to complete the bond of man and wife. But believe me, incest is an intimidating line to cross, no matter how bad both parties want to. So the weeks went on and the heat between us increased.
