Chapter 1: BIRTHDAY
Falling stars are a wonderful sight in the night sky. Many believe that if you make a wish when you see a falling star, it might just come true.
Max had no idea how much his life would change because of a random flash in the sky.
The annoying alarm clock blared, just like any other school day. Then came a knock on the door.
"Max, wake up! You'll be late for school again. And don't start with the 'I'm sick' excuse," said a pleasant voice. It was his mom. She sipped her coffee and disappeared into another room.
"Whatever you say, Mom," Max mumbled, picking up his phone. His calendar displayed a reminder: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX!"
"Yeah, right. Today is my 18th birthday," he muttered.
He walked into the kitchen, where his mom was engrossed in a phone conversation while standing at the stove. Her yellow curls cascaded to her shoulders, and her hips swayed back and forth as Fortuna (that was her name) cooked breakfast.
"I wonder if there's some surprise waiting for me," Max thought, taking his place at the table. Fortuna served him breakfast.
"Eat up and hurry. Get ready for school, or you'll be late," she said, sitting across from him, her attention glued to her phone as always.
"Anything you want to tell me, Mom?" Max asked.
She looked at him with a cute crinkle of her eyebrows. "What? I don't have time for your nonsense, Max. You cook dinner tonight and do the dishes."
"What? Even tonight?"
"Is today some kind of special day? Yes, even tonight," she continued typing something on her phone, trying not to break yellow manicure.
"Sorry for distracting you from your boyfriend."
"My boyfriend, your dad, is away on a work trip. It's business, not leisure. Don't be silly and watch your tone, young man." The phone rang, and she got up, leaving the kitchen.
===
"She forgot about my birthday. Just unbelievable, Derek." Max stared at the morning sky in his sports uniform during PE class while Derek did his warm-up routine. "At least my dad called, but I doubt he'll tell her. They rarely talk about me."
"Your mom is a very busy MILF. I can understand her."
"Hey!" Max glared at Derek, who was a bit taller. "I told you not to call her that in my presence. It's gross."
"But you're not going to deny she's a MILF, are you? Firm ass, decent breasts, big gray eyes, and long blonde hair. Damn. If I had a mom like that, I'd forgive anything--even something as small as forgetting your birthday."
"That's easy for you to say. Your mom never forgets anything. She really loves you."
"Yeah, she does. Only she has to keep reminding my dad about everything. He's the one who always forgets stuff. My mom's probably a MILF too." Derek placed his hands on his hips, recalling images of his own mom.
"That's even more gross. Calling your own mom a MILF. How can you even say that?"
"Come on. We're eighteen, Max. Hormones bubbling inside us." Derek put a hand on Max's shoulder. "Your mom just got really worked up. She'll remember your birthday tonight when she gets home. Don't make a big deal out of it."
===
"Max, I'm home!" Fortuna threw her keys onto the shelf and began to undress. "I'm so tired."
"I made you dinner," his voice echoed from the kitchen.
"Thank you." She kissed his cheek, but it was a dry, unpleasant kiss--without love. Fortuna sat down at the table as Max served the food. "There's a hole in my new stockings. Gosh, I liked them." She twirled her fingers over the white spot on her beautiful left leg.
"You can always afford new ones, knowing how much you like stockings." He sat down across from her and silently waited while she ate. "Still nothing you want to tell me?"
"That's enough, Max. I don't care about your silly games. I'm so tired. Do you know what I've learned for sure in my 44 years? If you have something to say, always say it straight. What's wrong?"
He sighed. "Nothing, Mom. Nothing is wrong. Sorry for being so damn annoying."
"That's better. Isn't it time for you to go to bed? Or do you want to skip school again tomorrow? Your grades are bad enough as it is, Max."
"Yeah, sure. Do you even love me, Mom?"
She set her fork aside and, to his surprise, hesitated for a second. It was only a second, but it startled him.
"Of course, Max. You're my son."
"I just realized today that you hardly ever say you love me. Sometimes I feel like a burden. Maybe you and Dad never really wanted kids."
"Max, please. You chose a bad day to complain about your life. I had a horrible day and don't want to hear about how tough yours is. Just go to bed."
"As you say." He stood up slowly. Fortuna glanced out the window, peering into the dark evening.
He went back to his room. The final moments of his birthday were ticking away. Max walked to the window. Even though he didn't have a birthday cake, he still had a wish in his heart.
"I wish I lived in a world where mothers love their sons with pure love."
At that moment, by a one-in-a-million chance, a shooting star streaked across the sky. Usually, wishes made at the perfect moment involve all sorts of little details, their fulfillment barely noticeable to the one who made them.
But Max's wish was different.
It was a big one.
Chapter 2: PURE LOVE WORLD
DAY ONE
He woke up, as always, to the sound of the alarm clock. A knock on the door followed shortly after.
"Honey, get up, or you'll be late for school," Fortuna called out. She took a sip of coffee, and, judging by her retreating footsteps, disappeared into another room.
Max rubbed his disheveled hair. "Honey?"
While getting dressed, he kept recalling the last time she'd called him honey, sweetie, sweetheart, baby, or sunshine. Perhaps those times were from when he had no consciousness at all.
He walked into the kitchen, where his favorite breakfast--two eggs and bacon arranged to look like a face--was already waiting.
"Sit down, or it'll get cold," Fortuna said. Her long hair hung loose, and she wore an apron. She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a gentle, sweet mark of pink lipstick behind. He sat down and began to eat.
"That's odd. What is it with her today?" His gaze slowly slid toward the stove. Max's eyes widened. Fortuna had no outerwear under her apron. Her bare back and big firm ass were only partly obscured by the transparent fabric.
He turned away in shock and disgust.
"You want me to do a job, dear?" she asked cautiously, continuing to work at the stove.
"Is she asking my permission to go to work? I need to get to school," Max thought, hastily finishing his breakfast before leaving the kitchen as quickly as possible.
===
"This is kind of crazy. I'm telling you, there's something wrong with my Mom." Max sat on a chair in the schoolyard while Derek ate his lunch. "My Mom would never let herself wear something like that. Not even at home! She only wears pants and sweaters, even when it's summer. She hates wearing light blouses and tights with skirts at work, so at home, she always dresses like its winter outside. "Even when she swims, she always wears silly, boring jumpsuits. She hates dressing in anything sexy."
"Uh-huh," Derek nodded with his mouth full.
"And when she sees someone dressed indecently on the street, she always starts talking about how unaesthetic it is, how it's wrong. 'These girls have terrible parenting,' she says. 'A woman shouldn't wear something like that...' Is that nerdy Bob?"
"Uh-huh," nodded Derek again.
Right in front of them walked a nerdy guy with long hair. Walking next to Bob was a woman, the same height as him, looking about 50 years old. Short hair, glasses. She was just an ordinary fifty-year-old woman.
"Walking with his Mommy. Just look at them. They're holding hands."
Bob and his mother walked along the schoolyard path and headed further down the street. As they mingled with the crowd, he thought Bob slipped his free hand somewhere under his mom's blouse, right into her neckline.
"I certainly wouldn't walk with my mom holding hands, especially not with a mom like Bob's," Derek said as he hid the remains of his lunch.
"Yeah... I guess," Max was still looking in the direction where Bob and his mom had just disappeared.
"My mom's hands are only made for doing me a great handjob. Like today." Derek raised his hands in a completely relaxed manner, spreading out on the bench.
"Uh-huh, yeah. Wait, what?" Max's face suddenly contorted, he brought his fingers up to his face trying to determine if he had just heard that correctly. He said his Mom do him handjobs? Probably another stupid joke.
"Yeah, yeah, sure." Max let out a silly laugh and punched his friend lightly in the shoulder.
"What? I'm serious," Derek's face was stone-cold. "When your balls are empty it helps you focus a lot then in school."
"What? What the hell are you talking about, bro? Is your mom giving you a handjobs?"
"Yeah! What about yours? Doesn't she?"
"Of course not! Ew. Of course I always knew you and your mom were close, Derek. But what the fuck?"
"What's wrong?" Derek really did seem confused. "My mom knows it helps me. She does it when my dad isn't looking because he gets jealous."
"I really don't want to hear about it, about your crazy family. Your jokes go too far sometimes. Enough of that. Close the subject!"
"Fine."
Max had been to Derek's house many times and met his mother. It was crazy to imagine what his friend was talking about. His mother doing him a handjob? No freaking way.
They didn't dare discuss anything more about mothers and jobs for the rest of the day.
While heading home, Max checked his phone for news. A celebrity had held a high-profile wedding, and the bride was... his own mother. "Weirdo. And I used to be his fan," he muttered.
As he reached the edge of the road, he stopped abruptly when a bus sped past, just inches from his face. An ad on the side of the bus caught his attention: "Embrace Your Love." The sign depicted a young man passionately kissing a woman who was slightly older than him.
"Weird," Max thought.
Later that evening, he cooked dinner for his mom and retreated to his room, avoiding Fortuna after the disappointing birthday and the unsettling things Derek had shared earlier.
The next day was much the same. In the morning, his mom gave him a sweet kiss, made his favorite breakfast, and said, "I'm sorry if I seemed off yesterday. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart."
