Mom's Buttons

All characters are above the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.

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My son Anthony walked into the house, shutting the garage behind him. I was in the kitchen, preparing the pulled pork we were going to have for dinner. Anthony was in debate club which ran after school. That normally meant he left from school and I left from work at about the same time. My drive was a little shorter, so I usually got to have a little time to myself in the afternoons, which I loved.

"Hey, sweetie. How was school?" I asked. Anthony was a senior in high school, and it was the last day of his spring semester. He had already been accepted into university for the fall, so at this point he had nothing more to do in school. This semester was basically a freebie for him.

I was obviously upset that my little baby was going away to school, but I was happy for him. Anthony was the younger of my two children. His older sister was already a senior in university, so both of my darlings would be gone. For the first time in 22 years, I wouldn't have anyone else in the house but me and my husband.

So maybe I was dealing with a little empty-nest syndrome. I knew it would get better over time, and I was already so proud that both of my kids had gotten into college and were on a better track than me. My older brother had never bothered getting his degree, and I had dropped out of college when an unexpected baby bump hit me at 21.

In a way though, having kids early had been great for me as a mom. Anthony came a bit later, when I was 25, but I still got to spend all my time with them and really watch them grow up. My husband proposed as soon as we found out I had gotten pregnant, so I got to focus on being a stay-at-home mom.

After Anthony's older sister left, I grew pretty bored though. He was 14 and didn't need me as much anymore, so I finished up my degree online and started working for the first time. But now, it would be even worse having no one around. While it meant more alone time for me (since my husband's work hours were odd and he didn't usually get home until four hours or so after me), I loved my kids more than I loved myself, as any mom can attest to.

Even as a young kid, Anthony was always a bit different than his big sister. He was more creative and less academically-driven. I always made sure he did fine in school, but he was never as driven.

That's probably why he had loved this semester so much. He really got to take it easy and relax. As long as he didn't fail any classes, he already had a spot at college locked up.

So I was surprised when Anthony walked into the kitchen looking very dejected. This was unusual.

"Fine," he mumbled. He tossed his backpack down, gave me a peck on the cheek, and started towards his room.

"What's wrong?" I asked, reading his mannerisms and emotions like only a mother could.

"Nothing," he said.

"You're a terrible liar," I remarked. "Tell me what happened."

"It's nothing. Nothing happened."

"Did something happen at school?"

Anthony had taken his finals the week prior, which meant today was the last day grades would be given out. I couldn't imagine anything being wrong there.

"No," he said. But his voice wavered. He honestly looked a little shell-shocked.

"Come here. Sit down," I told him, pulling a chair out at the kitchen table.

He sat down and I stood leaning against the counter.

"Why are you acting like this? If it's not school, what is it?"

The only other option would be girl trouble, but I didn't think that would be it either.

Anthony wasn't a jock by any means, but he was still pretty popular. He was funny and charismatic and relatable, not to mention quite handsome, and that's not just from the perspective of a mother. His short dirty blonde hair was a shade lighter than my own, and his chiseled jaw line and strong masculine features came from his dad.

He had naturally broad shoulders and a tall 5'11" frame. After some playful needling by his sister about his beach body (or lack thereof) during last summer, he had actually been working out more and now was pretty muscular and fit. He had grown into quite the dashing young man, and I couldn't have been prouder.

Anthony let out a deep breath. "Promise you won't be mad."

Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all.

"What is it, sweetie? You know I'll always love you, and we'll get through anything, okay?"

"Yep," he nodded slowly.

A pit was forming in my stomach. I really didn't like the way Anthony was acting. It was making me nervous.

"But you have to tell me what the problem is," I continued.

"Ok. I got my final grades back."

"Alright. And?"

That pit grew bigger. His finals shouldn't have been an issue.

"I failed math class."

"Oh fuck," I muttered. I never swore in front of my kids. This was a big deal.

Math was always Anthony's worst subject. My husband was much better at it than I, so he tutored him when Anthony was younger. High school had been tricky, to start at least, but he had managed to get through it with B minuses and Cs.

This was really bad though. This would mean that the position he was offered at college would be revoked. He wasn't allowed to fail any classes this semester, which we never thought would be an issue.

Oh God, how had I let this happen? Was I a terrible mother for not pushing him harder this semester? For not staying on top of him and really riding him to make sure he was doing okay?

I had to stop myself. This wasn't the time for self-judgement. We had to find a solution. There had to be one.

"Well, how bad did you do?" I finally asked.

"D-. One fucking percentage point below a pass."

"Well, did you study for the final?" I asked him. I heard the tone in my voice rising. I tried to calm myself. It didn't matter what Anthony did in the past. He would be getting a very stern talking-to from his father. For now, we just needed to find a way to rectify the situation.

"Yeah, of course! I just did terribly! My teacher's an asshole though and didn't give us enough time."

"Okay, okay, we're not making excuses, alright?!" I snapped. "It is not your teacher's fault. You needed to do better. But we are going to fix this."

"We can't. It's too late."

"No, we will fix this. Where there's a problem, there's a solution. And we are not going down without a fight. Did you ask your teacher about extra credit?"

"Yeah, as soon as I got my grades back. He said he doesn't make a habit of giving out extra credit assignments."

"And did you inquire further?"

"Well, no."

"Okay, honey, this is a really big deal. You can't just give up when met by resistance. He said he doesn't make a habit, not he doesn't ever. Did you explain your situation?"

"Well he grades me, I'm sure he knows."

"He has a lot of students, he's not going to remember!" I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "When can we meet with him to talk about it?"

"We can't," Anthony replied. "School's out. The grades are already final."

"Shit," I murmured to myself.

Anthony shook his head and slammed his fist on the table. "Fuck!" he screamed out. Tears were welling up in his eyes.

I walked to Anthony and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "Hey, hey, hey, calm down," I said. "It's going to be okay. We're going to solve this, alright?"

"How?" he asked, choking back tears. "God, I really fucking screwed up."

"Well, maybe you did. But there's a way to fix it." I really hoped there was anyway. "Do you have your teacher's phone number?" I asked, moving to sit down across from my son.

"Um, no, I don't think so."

"Alright, well, let's find it online. I'm sure the school has it."

"What are you going to do? Call him?"

"Yep and explain your situation. And I'll make him agree to give you extra credit. Your mom can be very convincing when she wants to be."

"I'm well aware," Anthony chuckled. He had seen me complain my way into better hotel rooms, canceled subscriptions, and comped meals many a time before.

I opened my computer and navigated to the school's website. After a quick call to HR, I had his math teacher's number.

"Great, now just let me work my magic," I said to Anthony.

"Wait, can we just... please not tell Dad about this? I know he'd get super stressed."

I sighed. "We will see. Let's just worry about this now."

I picked up my phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number.

Contrary to Anthony's claim, the teacher was not an "asshole." I found him to be rather pleasant and understanding.

Because the school was officially over, he couldn't offer any extra credit or test re-takes to Anthony through the school. But, he had suggested the possibility of doing work through a different source, and we came to an agreement.

There was a website that Anthony could use, and he would complete a large set of problems online. There wasn't a time limit, and he could try each question three times before it was marked wrong, so I hoped the lower stress environment would be better. If he passed it, he would recoup that last percentage point to get a passing grade. Of course, to make sure he wasn't cheating, his teacher and I both agreed it was only fair that I supervised his work.

And thus, I had worked my magic again. I hung up the phone and silently fist pumped. I knew there had to be a solution.

***

Per Anthony's wish, he would complete the problem set after I got home on Monday. It would just be the two of us in the house, free from other distractions.

My heart was racing the whole day. I could hardly work, but I managed to get through it. I drove like a maniac to get home and finally bring an end to all of this.

Anthony had been studying during the day, and was all ready. He had his computer set up on the kitchen table. I watched over him as he opened the problem set and prepared to click on the first problem.

"You sure you're ready?" I asked him. This was too important. He couldn't be hungry or distracted or anything else.

"Yeah," Anthony answered. I noticed him shift a little in his seat. I looked down to his lap and noticed that he had a slight erection. I knew he was a horny teenage boy, but that couldn't afford to be an issue right now.

"You don't need to use the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good," he answered.

I sighed. "Alright. Get started then."

Anthony opened the problem set and got to work. I sat down next to him, supervising him. I couldn't understand any of the math he was doing, but I just needed to make sure he wasn't cheating.

Anthony worked on the first problem for a few minutes. He reached an answer and submitted it.

Incorrect.

He sighed and shook his head. He reworked a few things and submitted again.

Still wrong.

I took a deep breath. One more shot.

Anthony went back over his work and re-did the problem. He entered his final answer and submitted it.

Correct.

I let out an exhale. One down. There were 25 problems on the set. He had to get 20 right to be given a pass.

Now for problem 2. Anthony took less time on this one and got it right on his first try.

Problem 3 was not as kind. Incorrect all three tries.

"It's fine," I re-assured myself. Four more strikes. He can do this.

Problem 4 stumped Anthony again. Now he had three strikes left.

He got Problems 5 and 6 right. Now he was doing better.

Problem 7 was wrong. Shit. I was getting very stressed out. He needed to do really well on the rest.

"Are you sure you're doing okay?" I asked. "Do you need a glass of water or anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

My eyes traveled over my son. Anthony was sweating slightly, and his whole body was tensed up and nervous. I couldn't help but notice that his erection had gotten bigger. I was concerned about that. He couldn't be distracted right now.

"Alright, honey, just take a few deep breaths. You're going to do great on the rest."

"Yep," he unenthusiastically responded. He took a deep breath and returned to work.

Number 8 was easy apparently since he got it right very quickly. 9 took longer, but thankfully he got that one down too.

And then Problem 10 arrived. I obviously didn't know it then, but it would turn out to be the most life-changing math problem I had ever known.

Anthony worked on it for close to ten minutes. He fidgeted and wiped his sweaty brow again and again. He submitted the answer.

Incorrect.

Anthony let out a long, exasperated sigh. I breathed anxiously.

He tried again, taking a few more minutes before submitting. Wrong again.

Anthony groaned. He reached down and adjusted the crotch of his pants. He took another deep breath and re-worked the problem for the last time.

Incorrect.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, slamming his fists down onto the table. He could only afford one more strike. He would have to be perfect from here on out.

"Calm down, sweetie," I said, running a hand over his back. "You need to relax and clear your mind."

"I know, I just can't fucking think right now! This shit is ridiculous and hard, and my mind is just jumbling it all up."

"Well you studied all day for it. You're prepared."

"Yeah, I know. That's the worst part. I know that I know the material. I know that I can do this, that I should be able to do this. My mind is just cloudy. It doesn't want to work right."

I bit my lip. I couldn't help but think of his erection. He wasn't in the right mindset for the test.

Then an idea popped into my head. Normally, I would have completely disregarded the idea. It was probably stupid and reckless.

But at the time, it seemed like a good plan and a solution for our problem. Anthony absolutely could not afford to fail. It was clear his brain was cloudy and struggling getting focused. He just needed proper motivation to fix his mental issue.

I stood up, pushing my chair back.

"Listen," I said to Anthony. "Just take a deep breath. I have an idea, but it's a little crazy." Anthony's eyebrow raised before I continued, "I know that you can ace this. I know you've been studying and I know you can do great. But you said it yourself: your brain doesn't want to work right. You need a little help focusing."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "What's your idea?"

It was my turn to sigh. My heart was racing and my mind was moving even faster. I had no clue if this was the right decision. But in the heat of the moment, it was the one I made.

"Well, your brain needs to get focused. We need to give it motivation to concentrate, because I believe in you, and I know that if you're focused and sharp, you'll ace this." I had to take a deep breath. I was talking too fast.

"Okay..." Anthony said.

"And I couldn't help but notice that you have an erection." Anthony looked down at his crotch and back up quickly. His face tried to hide his embarrassment. I spoke slower now. I picked every word carefully. "If that's the motivation your brain needs, then so be it."

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Anthony asked, seeming both puzzled and slightly nervous, which truth-be-told I certainly was as well.

"For every problem you get correct," I began. My morality was telling me not to continue down this road. But my desire to help my son was taking over, instructing me to do whatever it took to get Anthony to pass. "I will undo one button or take off one article of clothing."

Anthony's eyes lit up. That's not the reaction I would have necessarily hoped for. No mother wants to know that her son is excited about her offering to strip for him. But he was already horny, and I guess it was quite the motivation.

I was not particularly enthused about stripping in front of him. It was far past any line that should be drawn between a mother and son, and it was not as if I had ever even thought about approaching that line before. But Anthony was my son, and if this was what it took to get him to succeed, then I had resigned myself to this fate.

He was already horny, and this was the best type of motivation for his mind. My son needed me in this moment, and I wasn't going to let him down.

Anthony stared back at me, his mouth parted slightly in shock.

"Umm, you think that will help?"

"Yes, I do," I confidently responded.

"Uh, okay."

"Come on. I believe in you. Do number 11."

"Alright," Anthony breathed. He turned to his computer and set to work. Within a minute and a half, the green checkmark popped up next to his answer.

Anthony turned back to look at me. I inhaled and exhaled, steeling my nerves, or trying to at least.

I figured I'd start with my pants. I was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans. The rest of my attire consisted of a pink knit cardigan sweater that had a pretty deep v-neck, beneath that a plain white sleeveless blouse, and then of course my panties. I was now seriously regretting not wearing a bra this morning, but I couldn't do anything about it now. I hadn't really thought about how many problems it would take me to get undressed. I just prayed it was more than Anthony had left.

My fingers moved to the button on my jeans. I found my hands to be shaking a little. They shouldn't have been. I shouldn't have been nervous. I was committed to what I was doing, and I was only doing it for Anthony.

With a little more difficulty than usual, I popped open the button. I unzipped the zipper of my jeans, exposing just a tiny sliver of my baby blue panties.

Anthony watched my every move intently. His eyes were staring right at my crotch now. I could somehow feel the hole his eyes were burning through that thin fabric, boring their way beneath to my crotch. His own pants were sporting an even bigger tent.

Some amount of concern was washing over me. I didn't like how enthusiastic he was about this whole situation. This was certainly a one-time thing, only done to motivate his horny brain and make sure he passed. I hoped he didn't have any other ideas, especially considering I was his mom.

To be honest, I couldn't really blame him. As a younger parent, I had always gotten a reputation as the "hot mom" while my kids were growing up. When I was in high school and the first two years of college, I never really thought of myself as pretty. But as I grew more confident in myself, more people started noticing me and I embraced my beauty more.

I wasn't overly tall , about 5'5", although my legs were rather long. My weight had fluctuated a lot for a few years thanks to kids, but I now kept myself at a steady 120 or so. I had a slender waist and wide hips with a round butt. My boobs weren't huge, but they were a solid C-cup, more than enough to fill out a tight shirt or fill up a hand. I was very grateful that they still remained firm and perky and hadn't begun to sag yet.

My light brown hair came down to just past my shoulders. It was naturally very straight, but I usually styled it a little bit wavy. I avoided ever wearing a lot of makeup, preferring to let my soft features shine for themselves. Thanks to naturally smooth skin and using moisturizer, I had managed to stave off wrinkles so far, but at 43, I knew any youthful exuberance had long since abandoned me.

Still, I looked good for my age, and that's all I could have asked for. I was very aware that guys still checked me out, whether it be my husband's friends or Anthony's if ever I dropped him off at school. Every woman likes being appreciated, and it always made me feel confident and a excited to be admired. But this was different. The admirer wasn't supposed to be my son.

"Alright, move on to the next one," I said. Anthony turned back to the computer. His hand moved like lightning over his notepad, jotting down some impossibly intricate equation I could never hope to understand. He entered his answer. Correct.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Things were looking up. Maybe my plan just might work.

Now came the rest of my pants. I curled my fingers into the waistband and began to pull them down.