The story contains no sexual innuendo involving minors.
.............................................................................................
Dad was the best person I ever met. He worked hard, in his free time helped doing house chores, always spoke in a low tone, and tried to accommodate Mom's and my needs the best he could. For all the above, I loved and cherished the times I spent with him. Unlike him, Mom strutted around the house like a queen, never worked a day in her life, did very little at home, unless you count yoga for 10 minutes at a time, and used all her energy to care about her appearance and complain about everything.
The brunt of her fury was directed at my father: His job didn't pay him enough, and he needed to quit and work elsewhere; his choice of clothes was inadequate; his 6 feet wasn't tall enough, and she towered over him when she used high heel shoes; he was a wimp. You get my point.
She wasn't particularly nice to me, either. My room was a mess; I didn't work hard to get better scores; I could help more around the house; I loved Dad more than her. She was right about the last one, although I never admitted it to her.
Everything escalated when I was a senior in high school. One day, Dad started coughing mildly. We assumed it was a simple virus, the flu, or Covid. A week later, he coughed more frequently, got weaker, and stopped helping at home. Mom chastised him for becoming lazy while she didn't lift a finger. All the house chores were performed by once a weekly cleaning lady and me after school hours. Did Mother bother helping? Of course not. Did she thank me? Dream on. The lady invested all her free time chatting on the phone with anonymous friends, driving to meet buddies, and beautifying herself.
One thing was clear: She was very successful at making herself noticed. She was a 40 year old, 5'8", 132 pounds, with a pretty face, and a gorgeous figure. However, her bitchy behavior prevented me from ever complimenting her about her appearance, which she complained about as well.
Dad's health continued deteriorating until one day, he couldn't take it anymore and went to see his doctor. The physician ordered diagnostic tests. A week later, we were notified Dad had advanced lung cancer. We were devastated. The first one to recover from the revelation was Dad himself. He came to my room, hugged me, and said, "Bruce, let's face it. I'll be gone soon. You'll be the new man of the house, and it will be your job to take care of Mom. She knows nothing about our financial situation or even how to pay the bills. I organized everything for you in the lower drawer of my desk. Over there, you'll find the names and contact numbers of everybody who's involved in our wealth, as well as where and how to deal with everything. You are a smart guy, and I trust you do a good job."
"Dad, I am sorry your health is not good. Is there a possibility the doctors are wrong, or is there an experimental drug that can help?"
He smiled, "I checked, and there is none. The good news: Mom and you will have enough money for many years. I purchased very good life insurance and put money in a savings account and a Vanguard portfolio. Mom doesn't know how wealthy we are because she'd rather spend it on beauty stuff."
"May I ask you a private question?"
"Son, but of course."
"Did Mom always behave like that? Why is she upset and bitter all the time?"
He hugged my shoulder and said, "You are young and barely 18. Life is not always nice or fair. Being happy has nothing to do with how rich, healthy, or even loved a person is. Everything has to do with expectations. Mom was the prettiest girl I ever met. I was the school's football quarterback. We were attracted to each other and spent every free hour playing hanky-panky. We married a year later. In college, I was the great promise, but a nasty tackle cut my career abruptly. It also left me with a severe spinal injury that prevented me from being accepted for most jobs I was hoping to get. I was disappointed but tried my best to find a work that would allow a decent living for Mom, who was pregnant with you at the time. Mom saw the whole situation differently. All of a sudden, her happy, prosperous life was cut short, and she got stuck with a disabled person. Since it happened with no faults of her own, she didn't deserve the upcoming misfortune. It changed her attitude completely. Since that time, she resented me. Mom also blamed you because she claimed to have divorced me if she weren't pregnant... And the rest is history."
"Dad, it's not your or my fault either. Wouldn't you expect her to overcome her misfortune and communicate better with her loving family members?"
He sighed, "I guess you are right, but what can I say - Mom is different..."
...
Dad died 3 weeks later. Mom and I mourned him. Mom lay in her bedroom and hardly got out while I had to deal with the relatives and visitors who came by to console us.
When the week was over, in the morning morning, I knocked on Mom's bedroom door. She was watching TV in her room, eating a piece of chocolate cake, and drinking coffee. I was angry - She could have asked me if I wanted or needed something to eat. I resisted and blurted, "I have to go back to school. I'll be back in the afternoon. Are you going to be OK?"
She mumbled, "I feel so miserable. Who is going to care for me now?"
"If you get out of the room and start doing something useful, you'll feel better. We can talk about everything else when I return."
"OK..."
At 4 pm, I arrived home. Nothing was touched or cleaned in the living room, and the kitchen sink had dirty plates and utensils. I found Mom sitting in front of her mirror in her bedroom, wearing a silky robe and putting on makeup and lipstick. The semi-transparent robe could not hide her fantastic assets, and her face was as pretty as ever.
She turned to me, "Bruce, do you think I am attractive?"
I controlled my fury and answered, "Mom, you look terrific, but don't you think you could have done the dishes before admiring your beauty?"
She grinned, "I knew you'd do it after school. We don't have guests, so why hurry?"
I couldn't take it anymore and shouted, "Mom, you are very selfish. You do nothing constructive - You do not go to work, do not help at home, and only care about the way you look. Is this the way you plan to continue your life?"
"Why not? Before he died, Dad told me you'd be the man of the house, so I think you should care for me now."
The blood rushed to my head, and I yelled, "You are a real bitch!"
She gazed at me momentarily and then murmured, "I am your mother, and you cannot talk to me like that."
"I can, and I intend to do more than that. I am not Dad, and with me running the show, you'll start earning your living here."
"Bruce, threats do not work on me. If we have money, I do not have to lift a finger, and if the money is not enough, you, as the man of the house, will find a job to support us."
I watched her continue to beautify herself and knew I had to do something drastic. Otherwise, I'd be subjected to her abuse like Dad before.
Without mentioning a word, I left her room, went into the garage, cut a long rope into 4, and returned to her bedroom. Under her watching eyes, I tied them to the 4 posts.
She wondered, "What do you think you are doing?"
I raised Mom on her feet and, despite her resistance, led her to the bed. I lay her on her back and began tying her wrists to the posts. She screamed, "Bruce, are you out of your mind? Let me go at once!"
I ignored her yell and tied her ankles, too. She was now spread-eagled on the bed, covered with the robe.
She stared at me and looked frightened, "What are you doing?"
"You are a nasty bitch who never cared about Dad, about me, and about the house. Since the only thing that interested you was your appearance, I decided to mount a mirror on the ceiling and leave you like that in bed to see yourself nonstop."
Next, I opened her belt and exposed her naked body.
She was stunned and couldn't talk for a while. Then she whined, "What is wrong with you? Leaving your own mother naked and tied in bed..."
I ogled her heavenly body, and my pecker began engorging. I giggled, "Mom, you are very sexy. A cruel witch, but definitely worth fucking."
She cried, "Honey, what happened to you?..."
"Nothing happened to me. I realized you are worthless as a mother or housemaid, but god gave you a perfect body to be a whore, so we'll both enjoy your body."
"You cannot do this to me. Once you free me, I'll call 911."
I laughed, "That's a good reason to leave you like that. If you behave, I might be nice and feed you when I feel like it."
"You are full of it. Let me go, I need to pee."
I sat on a chair near the bed and blurted, "Sorry, Mom, no go. As I said, unless you beg nicely, you are not peeing. You can urinate in bed if you wish. But remember, I am not going to change your sheets."
Mom cried, "I really need to go."
"Go!"
She stared at me with hateful eyes and tightened her lips.
I stood up, stretched my arms, yawned, and said, "I am tired. I go to sleep for 2 or 3 hours. I'll check on you when I wake up."
"You better not do it!"
I left her room and went to mine. I worked on my computer for about 2 hours, hearing no noise coming from her room. Next, I entered her room without knocking. If a look could kill, I would have been dead by now. She said quietly, "Bruce, that's enough. Free me now."
"Mom, do you want me to clean your ears? You'll stay like that for as long as it takes to teach you to be a better person."
"I understand. You are right. Let me go."
"No."
"Now I really have to go to the bathroom."
"Would you prefer to do it on the sheet, or you want me to place a diaper under you?"
"Brucey, you are exaggerating. I misbehaved, and I am sorry, but it's time to go back to normal."
