Shawn Worships Mommy Ch 01

This story is posted here for satirical and comedic purposes, apart from the sexy moments. It's about a young boy who falls in lust with his own mother and her sexy, right latex, rubber, or leather catsuits and agrees to fall on his knees to be her devoted slave in a roleplay.

Fetishes: boot worship, ass worship, foot worship, latex, leather, leggings, corsets, femdom

Tags: Shawn, mommy, mother, MILF, incest, mother/son, satire, parody, feminism

DISCLAIMER: All characters in sexual relationships at the time of this story are 18 years of age and above, and are simply roleplaying the events described here.

Shawn walked across the street, avoiding the cars and getting to the central island in the middle. He waited until the cars had gone and the pedestrian sign across the road turned green. He then walked across the street to reach the one opposite and walked to a by-lane which led to his home.

He didn't know what to do yet when he got there since he was so depressed. He knew he was probably not the right man for some girls, and they weren't the ones for him, but what was wrong with them? Why could they be so cruel as to turn down someone who asked them out without any regard for what they thought?

He looked around to confirm he was near the right oak tree which was close to his house, then followed the path to the right of it. That was generally how he recalled the way home, unless he was being given a ride home by a generous friend. That was when he had to tell them the street names after reading them from road signs, but otherwise the path to home and hearth was straightforward enough. Right from the oak tree, towards a pine tree, then right again from there. From then on, he only had to go straight towards a gorse bush where his home was.

He reached the pine tree and looked around. There was the gorse bush. He started moving towards it, but his steps were slow and shuffling. He wasn't in the right state of mind to study or even do household chores. Teenagers tended to let their emotions get the better of them, or so he heard. From what happened at college that day, he couldn't help but think they were right.

He passed the bush, and for some odd reason, wondered if the girl turned him down because she herself had a big hairy bush. Could it be she forgot to shave or something and rejected him for that reason? The thought made him smile, and he was soon chortling to himself as he reached his door. He was probably rationalising away what had happened, but he didn't care. At least it made him feel better.

He stepped inside, holding his hand up to take a look at the fidget spinner he was rotating in his hand to distract himself. He took a look at the contrast of metal and green plastic, rotating at high speed 360º in front of his eyes. Apparently it wasn't allowed in college because students kept using them instead of focusing on the teachers, but fuck them. What did the teachers teach apart from how to follow government regulations or perhaps the best way to suck up to them and get grades?

His thoughts suddenly turned to the slut in class who had rejected him. Was she sucking a professor's cock to gain As and didn't want to distract herself from that duty? He knew he was probably letting his imagination get the better of him, but surely his resentfulness was justified with what she had done. He couldn't believe this, since if he had done it in his neighbourhood, he would have been turned down without being a bitch. It could've been some kids in his college who defended hysterical girls without question. Or was she one of those girls, the ones who got off by telling her girlfriends how cruel she could be when she got a simple, innocent offer of going out with someone?

ALTERNATIVE SCENARIO:- (starts when Shawn is reaching the bushes and trees near his home)

Shawn walked towards the bush near his home and thought over the events of the day. He hadn't meant to call the girl who asked him out ugly, but it was ridiculous how she expected a 'yes' just because she asked. He tried to explain to her that he himself had been turned down several times without any real explanation at all. He had tried to change their minds more than once, but of course they kept complaining about how he was 'harassing' them. He backed off when they started displaying extremely feminist tendencies, like mentioning how many other men they could bring together to beat him up.

Or in other situations, they would state that he was definitely out of their league. The best response was a sassy and uncaring one, like the one he gave the 'prom queen who told him to run away and sit down with his own league of girls, namely the nerds. He told her he never dated in the league of brattiness anyway, and that made her so triggered she chased him with a plastic knife. He ran for his life in a panic before realising that it was plastic (it was with a metallic paint, so he thought it was the real deal before noticing the serrations in it didn't look right).

When he was sure the knife wasn't real, he stood his ground and mocked her for not taking a no. That simply made her more furious, since she felt she deserved a yes for effort as well as an A grade. He said that he already looked up her interests on Facebook and Tinder, and he couldnt stay with someone who always went out on a limb for using social media for Instagram pictures of food. He also didn't want to be tied down with hair appointments or couple's massages when he could be having massages and couples therapy right in his home.

She didn't pay much attention and followed him around with the same knife for the rest of the day, saying that he should've at least said yes to give her a good reputation among her friends. He said he didn't care and she was too ugly to go out with anyway, which led to his suspension and subsequent note to his parents requesting a meeting at his office. After all, feminists never learned to just let some things go, and his college was chock full of them.

He wished he could point out that she wasn't leaving him alone at that time, and when he was a little more persistent that usual towards some of his own chosen dates, he constantly got warnings of harassment, charges of rape, and threats of castration from the white knights and three hundred pound fat chicks who were constantly roaming the college campuses, checking for instances of male privilege and lack of consent forms being signed across the board.

They were all provided with a stack of these forms by the radfem principal. Their job was to go around the campus shoving them under people's noses if they dared to talk to the same sex or even the opposite without permission. The idea was that people who mostly talked to their own sex were closeted gays, and even homophobes if they didn't admit it, assuming they were male. They had to be retrained to love the dick or else they would never fit into modern society.

Those who were smooth operators with the opposite sex were obviously those who discriminated against fat chicks, and were potential rapists whether they had any history of crime or dragging a girl into their rooms by her hair. This only applied when they were male as well.

Any girl who could make men feel comfortable was smashing the patriarchy and proving that girls were good at everything else. She wasn't just a normal girl who enjoyed the company of men, because everyone knew that men were a threat to the whole environment and the stability of nature, even if places with women rulers were statistically 27% more likely to go to war. That was just something the patriarchy called 'facts', and we all know how feelings trump facts. Women's intuition was always superior and the benchmark by which everything should be measured.

And women's intuition told everyone that men were privileged and abused it all the time to ensure women were held down, even when they outlearned men by 28¢ if single and childless, and they were convicted less, killed themselves less, and were raped more when you counted prison and undocumented cases.

Shawn would've liked to point out about how 78 to 86% of rape charges were false from police reports, and trying to put such a charge on him would just add to that statistic and make them look more like draconian bureaucrats, not to mention dictators, but he had to keep his mouth closed because he knew the campus security were white knight morons who would do anything to serve femininity. A pat on the head like a puppy was more than enough for them to leap into action.

He knew he could get his mother to deal with it later. She was the complete opposite of who a feminist was, including physical appearance, and she never tolerated the way they were trying to change society to make women fat, entitled cunts or men emasculated wusses. She didn't demand that men be strong or women stay at home, but she did say that nothing should hinder their normal development.

Boys would go for blue and girls pink before a shrieking feminist harpy elephantined her way into the conversation (without even asking for consent, mind you) and said that girls MUST choose blue and boys pink, because everything about each gender was interchangeable! Boys and girls were equal, so it didn't matter if you said that a boy had a vagina and a girl had a penis. Everything was equal and acceptable to everyone.

After he got the note and a call from his mother demanding that she reach a meeting scheduled at 10 o'clock where patri-Americans (men) and gyno-Americans (women) would discuss the virtues of feeding up a girl when she moved in with you so that she could never get up and leave, therefore effectively keeping you together forever, he decided he couldn't remain in this joke of a college any longer and might have to switch to keep his sanity. His sanity was tested further on the way home when he noticed the girl he called 'ugly' following him back home, hiding behind every bush with a toy gun in hand.

The worst part was the same feminist harpy following him back home and demanding that he acknowledge how feminism had made men softer, more in tune with their emotions and more likely to be heard. He knew the truth: when men spoke up about themselves, people were more likely to listen ... to their Spotify or Google Play Music playlists, not what men really had to say.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the batch of freshly baked cookies on the table. They were in the sitting room. He stepped forwards, hoping they were for him. He picked up the note lying next to them.

'Shawn darling,

I know you were planning to ask out a girl today because I heard you talking to your friends about it on the phone. Mommy knows all, you see. I thought this would be a nice little gift for both of you to bond over in case you bring them home, so I baked them ten minutes before you were due home. Yes, I knew what time you were coming because you kept whispering 'Two ... two ... two ...' at breakfast, and you said the same thing twice before leaving for college. It didn't take long to put two and two together. I guess mommies do that better than you would expect. Enjoy your cookie date, and if you're going to be naughty, I'll come out and spank both of you. ;)

Love, Mom'

Shawn reached the end of the note, smiling tenderly at how thoughtful his mother was. He looked once again at the batch of cookies wafting their exquisite aroma into the air. He could smell butter, chocolate chips, and even the scent of freshly made butterscotch. He picked one up and put it in his mouth. It was amazing. The flavour of soft dough, mixed with butterscotch, a smattering of melted chocolate, and finally, the chocolate chips crunching in his mouth assaulted his palate. No one made cookies, or love, just like his mother.

That was an odd thought to have. His mother making love. He didn't know if he had an Oedipus complex, but he recalled watching his mother going out in low-cut dresses as well as those yoga pants and even miniskirts which hugged her big ass so tightly that it appeared to be ready to burst out of it. He had watched his mother walk to the door, being sure to stay behind her to see how her ass cheeks moved. They were huge, but not in the sense of a BBW. They were big, round and delicious, more than the cookies he was stuffing his mouth with right now.

He recalled some of the neighbourhood boys whispering to each other that his mother 'had a phat ass' when she took him shopping so he could help find some of the household items. He had an easier time finding them because he generally roamed the supermarkets with his friends trying to hit on the cashiers, and random girls who walked the aisles. He wasn't indiscriminate at all with whom he tried to ask out. He chose the cute ones, those who looked pleasant enough to interact with, and managed to take out some of them, but it didn't always go beyond third base. They also frustrated him more than necessary when they thought they were teasing him for the anticipation of sex.

Also, he generally lost interest in them once he noticed they hardly made any effort to engage him in good conversation. The few who did simply petered out after a while, as if they were forcing themselves to like him. He generally told them that they probably weren't meant to be after a week or so, but they never responded. So much for common courtesy.

Shawn was shaken out of his reverie when he saw the cookie dish was empty. His hand was on the ceramic, pushing the crumbs around the place. He remembered that he wasn't with the cutie he had tried to ask out. He was back at home alone, eating the cookies which were baked for both of them alone. He crushed the note in his hands, a few tears blurring his eyes. He hadn't asked for this at all. He took the dish to the sink and dumped it in without washing it as was his habit.

He walked towards his bedroom, clasping his hands in front of him with his fingers interlocked. He lowered his head and sniffled, thinking of what to do next. Maybe he could walk inside and tell his mother all about it. He was sure he couldn't get any course work done at all like this.

He walked into the bedroom which his mother and father shared, wondering if his mother was back home. She generally was, but there were times when she had to go out for buying new lipsticks or outfits which she and daddy used in the bedroom. He heard the passionate cries coming from their bedroom almost every night. He had even rubbed his cock through his pyjamas while trying to deny himself an orgasm, wishing his mother was fucking his brains out instead of his dad. He was confused and mad at himself sometimes because he knew that normal mothers and sons didn't fuck, but he wished his mother and himself could be an exception to this.

He looked inside his mother's bedroom. It seemed a little dark, but he heard a light switch flick on. The room was bathed in soft, incandescent light. A figure made its way to the mirror on the dressing table.

Shawn froze in surprise. He had seen his mother wear several outfits which were teasing and a little sexy without blatantly advertising herself, but this one was way over the top. This was designed to tease, seduce, and even enslave, depending on how dominant she felt.

His mother was dressed in a black leather corset which revealed a plunging neckline, exposing so much cleavage he could drown in those boobies. It was held up with a criss-cross series of ribbons in the holes which were extending down over the centre line of her body to her stomach. The corset showed almost all of her breasts except the part where her nipples would be, hiding just her underboob. Her breasts were pushed up by the corset, almost spilling out over the top. T

his revealing outfit was made even sexier with a pair of latex leggings, also black. They stretched out tightly over her figure, accentuating her legs. Her thighs looked meaty and amazingly hot, enough to give him a chubby through his pyjamas. He placed his hands over his crotch and peeked further inside, wondering what else his mother was wearing. She looked so tasty he would've crawled inside on his hands and knees to worship her superiority. She really looked like a true goddess, the kind of woman anyone would get on their knees just for a chance to kiss her superior ass.

He wanted to look behind her to see what her ass looked like. He was sure it was filling those leggings out nicely, and he wanted to be the first to see it. He thought of crawling behind her as she turned around, bent over, and snapped her fingers while pointing a perfectly manicured finger at her ass. He would crawl over to her, leaning in to breath the scent of latex and her ass, sweaty and a little damp from the day's sweat. He would extend his tongue all the way out to lap eagerly at that latex-covered butt, licking it everywhere and leaving saliva streaks on it.

When he heard her command, 'Kiss!', he would eagerly press his mouth against her booty, making a smacking sound as he kissed it, then withdraw his lips from her ass and look up at her for approval. She would look down at him, somewhat condescending and arrogant because of the bitch face she generally kept for her slaves, but since he had been good, it would soften a little into a slight smile she only kept for special ass kissers. She would nod and turn her head back, bending down to place her hands on her knees. Sticking her ass out, she simply wiggled it up and down to non-verbally tell him to start his work. Kissing her ass all over with those slave boy lips.

And kiss it he would, until she was happy and would reward him with the rare privilege of kissing her boots. He would kiss, lick and service them for as long as she needed, getting his mouth filled with the taste and scent of her leather boots.

When that was done, she would allow him to masturbate his dirty cock and spew his filthy load all over her shiny boots, but only if he licked them clean so that they weren't dirty. No proper latex and leather Goddess could be seen anywhere with dirty boots at all. Especially when their naughty slaves had blown their dirty spunk and soiled their perfect footwear. He wanted her to have one boot on his back to force him to stay in that submissive position, on all fours with his back arched out for her and his head down, licking her boots clean of all that cum he had spewed on them.

But even after that, she shouldn't let him up, because a Goddess had to rest after a session with her faithful slave. She would sit down on a high-backed chair near him and stretch out her feet, placing her legs or boots on his back. And he was happy to be in that position, serving his Goddess as a footstool, cum cleaner, pussy licker, ass cleaner, and whatever else she wanted.

He couldn't wait until his Goddess decided her ass was really sweaty from wearing those leggings all day and stood up, picking up his collar and taking him to a corner with another snap of those slender fingers. She would squat down as if she was about to exercise, but what she really did was pull down her leggings to show him her ass. The sweaty, spicy scent of her ass crack filled the air, and he would be drawn closer since he loved every part of his Goddess, especially that large, fat, round booty. It was so perfect, it should get a thousand kisses every day from every slave.

Not that he cared about counting them, of course, he would gladly kiss her ass any time she needed for as long as she enjoyed his lips pressing against the soft skin of her bottom. She would grab his head and place it between her ass cheeks, letting go of them to trap his face inside it. His whole world would become her sweaty, slightly stinky ass, and he would worship it until morning. Or the whole day. He wanted to lick up all the accumulated sweat from her ass crack, his tongue working hard to remove anything from her ass which was uncomfortable. After that, she would have him alternate between licking her ass cheeks clean of any sweat remaining and kissing it everywhere, which would be his dream come true.