Chapter 2 – *Against Medical Advice*
I’ll be the first to admit that I have issues. You would too if you grew up like I did. My parents didn’t hit me more than was normal or anything like that, they just let things happen to me that shouldn’t have. Let’s just say that if your kid ends up in a juvenile mental hospital that is actually a work camp run by pedophiles, then you aren’t doing it right.
Am I angry about it? I guess. I’m probably what you would call a volatile personality. But hey, I have fun when I can.
My dad died while I was away at the juvie/bunny ranch, so I never got to thank him personally for having me kidnapped, jailed, worked like a dog, and abused by the staff. It wasn’t even court ordered. He was just sick of my attitude.
To be fair, I was more than handful as a kid, so maybe I deserved something, but no kid deserves to spend his teen years like I did. Imagine your parents just declaring to the world that their child don’t belong in it. Let me tell you, it leaves a mark.
I was a scrawny little late bloomer when they sent me away so that first year especially was a barrel of monkeys. Some nights I thought about escaping and showing up at home with a gun and some duct tape. Not saying I would’ve shot anybody – just sayin that after I was done with em, Pappy woulda knowed who the man in the family was.
As it happened the old man’s ticker gave out one evening on his way home from work and he wrapped the Volare` around a telephone pole. Oh well.
Mom, on the other hand, is loving life as a widow now. So, silver lining and all. Plus, now she gets to be my girlfriend.
Yup, I’m boning my mom.
It’s not as disgusting as it sounds. Or maybe it is. We were pretty much strangers to each other before I went away, so after spending my adolescence breaking rocks it’s like we’re hardly related anymore as far as I’m concerned.
You’d have to know her. She’s a timid little church mouse that lets people take advantage, but she’s also a sexy as fuck little fuck toy. For an old lady her body bangs. Big tits and wide hips on a tiny frame, and holy shit those nipples!
I checked out of the ‘hospital’ on my eighteenth birthday Against Medical Advice, as they put it. Didn’t even tell her I was getting out. Just showed up one evening after hitchhiking all day across blazing panhandle. I wish to hell I’d had a phone to record her face when I walked through the front door cause she went from shock to fear to pretend happiness in about five seconds. It was fucking adorable to watch her act all excited that I was home when obviously she was anything but.
I don’t blame her for being shocked. She hadn’t seen me in a long while, and after years of hard labor I wasn’t a little boy no more. Didn’t say shit – just walked right on in past her, dumped my duffel, and went to the fridge for a beer.
Of course there wasn’t any, probably on account of the old man not drinking as much as he used to. So the first thing I said to her after getting out was, “No beer.”
I think she was just tickled fucking pink to have an excuse to escape my unexpected presence, never mind I wasn’t even old enough to drink yet, cause no sooner had those words left my mouth than she’s flying out the door with her purse and keys in hand saying, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were coming home today! I haven’t done any shopping, blah blah blah,” and off she goes to the Piggly Wiggly.
With her out of the house I took my first private shower in three years and washed the road off. After that I poked around in the utility cabinet and found a roll of duct tape for later.
When she got back she set about making supper while I flipped through the cable channels, finally finding the good stuff way up in the pay-per-views. She bustled about in the kitchen while I watched incest porn turned way the hell up so she couldn’t help but hear. Of course, like always she pretended nothing was wrong.
One time when she walked in with a freshie I was stroking a mean boner through my jeans while this dude in the video was railing his mother in law who wouldn’t you know it had gone and got her hand stuck in the back of the dryer somehow.
“Oh Danny,” she moaned. “This is so wrong! You’re fucking your mother!” as if he hadn’t figured it out yet.
Abbigale tutted and started to say something about the porn, but stopped mid sentence when I looked straight at her with what was probably a sinister smile, hand still on my dick. That’s when she finally got that I wasn’t going to play nice. After handing me the beer she turned around *real* quick and went back to the kitchen.
During supper I left the porn playing for ambiance and continued the silent treatment while she nervously nattered on about who was doing what in the church community like I gave a shit. Later, when she was done cleaning up I told her to go take a shower.
“Well,… I, I, don’t know why you care,” she stammered, “but I showered this morning.”
“Did I ask?”
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just wait til the morning, then.”
Without looking up I slam my fist on the table. “Now!”
She backed away like she’d just realized I was venomous.
“Well,… okay then. If it matters that much to you,” and so on like everything was still fine. But she went and did it.
While she was in her bathroom I went into her bedroom behind her and pulled the bedspread and blanket off the big four poster bed, laid out the role of duct tape, a leather belt, and what passed for sexy lingerie I found in her dresser.
Let me tell you, when she walked out of the bathroom wrapped in just a towel and found me sitting there in her room with my hard dick in my hand, she didn’t know what to think. She looked back and forth between me and the things laid out on the bed, trying to make sense of it all in a way that didn’t mean what it clearly meant.
“Oh, now, honey, that was sweet of you but Mommy doesn’t need help gettin dressed,” she said like I was eight. “Why don’t you go give your old buddy Davey a call. Remember Davey? You two were thick as thieves back then, right? He would probably love to hear you’re back! Just go on, now, and let your old mom get dressed.”
“Put it on, cunt.”
Well, if she wasn’t terrified of me already, she sure as shit was now. She started to shake like you do when you are expecting a punch. She tried to bluff her way through it.
“Oh no, Frank Jr.! No sir! You do not talk to your mama like that!…Ever!… Not Ever!… Now go on out of my bedroom and let your mom get dressed and we’ll have no more potty talk in this house!…”
Then she turned away and started messing with her comforter like I was already gone.
I didn’t budge. Knowing that I hadn’t, she continued chirping away, “We still have so much catching up to do! My friends from church will be so excited to hear you’re home! I tell them about you all the time! Tell em how good you been doing with your schoolwork and all. I haven’t been going as much as I used to, but maybe you can come with me this Sunday and…”
She stopped her nervous chatter when I stood up and closed the door to her bedroom.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, cunt.”
She had no reply to that. Her eyes were dancing around like she was a trapped animal. I could tell she was trying to think of anything she might say or do that could change what was about to happen, but she couldn’t and she knew it. She sort of sagged in on herself like a blow up doll losing some air. She turned her back to me again and picked up the lacy white bra and panties from the bed. When she started towards her bathroom I grabbed her by the arm.
“Here. In front of me.” I said calmly as I tore the towel away from her clutching hands. She stood there naked and shaking with tears welling in her eyes, holding the bra and panties over her breasts and bush. Then all of a sudden she just starts bawling, all hiccups and snot like a little girl.
“Do it.”
She did an awkward job of stepping into her panties one-handed with the other hand unsuccessfully attempting to cover her tits. She modestly turned her back to me again as she slid her arms into the bra straps and closed it in front.
“Turn around.” I ordered.
Slowly she turned back to me staring at the floor, arms still across her boobs and snatch as if that was going to do her any good.
“Hand me that belt from the bed, mamma.”
She looked at the black leather belt with the worn but still clearly legible G784 hand stenciled on the underside in cracked white paint. The same number that you would find painted on my duffel and on every thing inside it down to my toothbrush. G for Geddis, and 784 because I was the 784th ‘student’ admitted to Bananaville.
She looked at that belt for a few seconds not getting why it was in the room with us, and then she got it. She gasped. The next domino fell when she realized what the tape was for. She looked at me then with terror in her eyes and the back of her quivering hand went up to her mouth all theatrical like an old timey movie actress. I just smiled and stared letting her know she was right to be afraid.
“Oh, Junior! Oh God, Junior! What are you doing?” She asked in a shaky voice.
“Well, mom, I guess I’m going to tape you to that bed, beat the ever-loving shit out of you with that belt, then fuck you silly. What do you think about that?”
(crickets)
“Get on the bed, whore!” I shouted at her as I jumped up from the chair. She fell back on the bed with her hands up like she was expecting a blow, and I thought that was probably a good instinct.
“Show me your tits, Mom.” I sneered as I picked up the belt. She did not. So this would be our first *teachable moment* as they liked to say back at the camp.
Her arms were up high protecting her chest and face so I cracked the belt across her thighs. Too shocked to even scream, she made this comical *Oh* face and rubbed at the rising red welts across both legs. Christ, it felt good to hit her.
“Now, Stupid! Show me your tits!”
Hands shaking from adrenaline she reached between her tits and managed to separate the clasp, closing her eyes and turning her head away as she exposed herself to me.
Jumping Jesus on a Pogo stick, I love my mom’s tits! They are like fat, juicy, hanging, pears tipped with dark pink, cone shaped areolae that end in acorn sized nipples. (Yes, I had to look up what the pink skin around the nipple was called.) The fact that they pointed kinda down now that she was a mother in her forties just made them hotter for me. I was torn between powerful urges to punish and suck on them titties. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to choose.
Looking back I can see that at this point I was more than a little out of my mind. I’d been fantasizing about doing this for so long that it didn’t seem real. I mean, even my actual dreams had been about doing this to her. By the time I had her alone in her bedroom I had already fucked her hundreds of times in my sleep.
A psychiatrist (who was also a pedo) at the camp told me about lucid dreaming as a way of resolving some bad memories. Over time I taught myself to do it. I got to the point where as soon as I started to dream I would understand from how ridiculous things were that I was dreaming. Once I know that I’m in a dream it’s like I’m God, but meaner.
I *guess* you could call what I did in my dreams therapeutic. I flew a lot, and smote my enemies. But mostly I fucked.
I learned to invent scenarios where someone famous or some lady staff member I had the hots for would show up. I would magic their clothing away and materialize bindings that made them helpless for my use. Or toss them naked to a pack horny mental patients like raw meat to starving dogs and just watch. In a lucid dream I could walk into a restaurant and make all the men rape all the women. I could fly down into a football stadium during a game and make the cheerleaders all fuck me right there on the sideline while the crowd cheered.
It was so good I even stopped jerking myself off nightly before falling asleep like every other dickhead in the place because I was saving it for my dreams. My group started calling me Crusty because my bed sheets were typically the stiffest when laundry day rolled around.
I didn’t even know I wanted to fuck my mom until she started showing up in my dreams on her own. I mean, I know it’s all happening in my head, but I wasn’t trying to make her appear or anything. You know how dreams are. I would be dominating that mouthy social worker with the really nice ass, when suddenly it would be Abigail whimpering under me, and I wouldn’t stop.
I think at first I told myself that she was just easy to imagine, and since it wasn’t real, one pussy was as good as another. I loved it too much, though – and I loved how wrong it was.
In my dreams I learned how to shame her with pleasure, and I discovered how fun it was to hurt her. That’s probably the closest I ever got to doing actual *therapy* in that place.
Even when awake, I had long hours of mindless labor to fill with detailed fantasies about how I would make my dreams come true when I got out. I became obsessed with making her my slave for real.
Abigail’s the kind of woman who would sell a kidney to avoid being publicly shamed. I was convinced that under duress I could make her do or say anything I wanted, and make her love it. I figured all I had to do was record her groveling for my dick one time and that shit would be on lock down for as long as I wanted. I made plans.
I had this whole speech prepared. I was going to make her dance for me, humiliate herself. I was going to make her say she was sorry for taking those years away from me, and beg for my forgiveness. Make her suck me. I was going to beat her until she begged me to fuck her. But now that I finally had what I wanted, I just threw myself on her and went crazy.
She was a dear in headlights while I tossed her around on the king size bed, slapping, grabbing, or sucking whichever part of her presented itself. I pinned her arms under one hand and molested her head to toe with the other, pausing only to slap her with the belt. She was so overwhelmed she just whimpered and took it all like a rag doll without fighting me or anything. Like when I spread her legs and started blasting her with my fingers, she just let me. I think because deep down she knew she deserved what was happening to her.
“Hey! Hey! Don’t look away! Look at me, Abigail! This is happening!” I yelled and pulled her jaw around so she was looking at me afraid and confused while I popped her sloppy wet pussy.
She moaned, “Jesus save me…Sweet Jesus, come to me now,” and shit like that.
She started making this weird laughing noise when I felt her cunt muscles start to clench at my fingers like it was trying to push them out of her. I could tell I was making her cum so I popped even faster til my palm was spanking her clit. All of a sudden she starts screaming and pissing herself. Only it wasn’t piss! I mean I thought it was at first. But it didn’t smell or taste like it. I know this because I took some in the face when she started to squirt, and because it wouldn’t have been my first taste of piss.
I didn’t figure it all out til later, but it turns out that sometimes when a lady cums she squirts out more than a man. And you can make them do it over and over! Who knew?
“I’m going to fuck you now, Abby! Your son is about to fuck you!” I yelled at her as I rubbed her own cum all over her face. She just stared into the distance with unfocused eyes panting and jerking from what I’d just done to her.
“Hey!” I yelled again and slapped her face. “Wakey, wakey, Mommy! Look at me!” She seemed to focus a little. “What’s happening to you right now Abigail? Tell me!”
I saw awareness grow in her eyes and she looked at me like she had just figured out it was me doing it to her.
“Junior?”
“Yeah, mom. It’s me, Frank Jr. What am I doing to you? What’s about to happen to you?” I demanded.
Still kinda foggy-like she said, “You… You… You’re raping me.”
“That’s right, bitch. Your boy is raping you. Say it!”
“My boy is raping me,” she repeated like she was commenting on the weather.
“That’s right! Are you ready for this, Mamma?” I spread her legs with my knees and led her shaking hand to the motherfucking crowbar between my legs. As her fingers closed around my girth her eyes widened.
“Oh, no no no no no, Junior! It’s too much! You’ll hurt me!… You can’t! I’m your mother!” Which were separate and unrelated arguments, so whatever.
I slapped her hand away and pushed the head between her lathered lips. I let out a groan as I wiped it up and down against her slick hole and so did she. I spread some of her plentiful jizz around on my cock and started pushing it in.
“No… no…,You can’t…you can’t,” she panted. Even as I pushed through I could feel her cunt muscles squeeze in an effort to stop me, but that wasn’t happening. I shoved myself all the way in until our pubes were grinding! She let out a groan that was part shock, part misery, and all pleasure – for me, at least.
Let me tell you, it was pretty trippy being inside the hole I came from. Well, not exactly because they cut me out of her, but you get the point.
I think I screamed like an animal as that first orgasm turned my brain inside out, just shooting and shooting as deep as I could be in her. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she grunted through clenched teeth like she was having a seizure. I felt her clawing my back as her body convulsed under mine, her cunt spasming around my cock.
I might have felt some things in that moment, but, you know, it’s all biological. I’ll be honest here, I balled like a baby when we came together that first time. Don’t know what that was about, but it lasted for less than a minute and I never lost my wood.
While I cried she gasped for breath and quivered underneath me while stroking my back like she was genuinely sorry that I was sad. It made me furious because where was that shit when I was little and could have used it?
I was still buried in her and so ready to go again.
I started pounding her into the bed then like I was trying to kill her with it and all she could do was cry and moan and take it. I was so wound up I nutted again and my hard-on still wouldn’t quit. I just kept slamming into her like a rampaging cement finisher with a broken dead man switch.
Whatever my mom felt about being raped by her son, I could tell her body was fucking loving it. I don’t think she even knew she was doing it, but while I fucked her she cried out in pleasure like she hadn’t been laid in years. At one point I even felt her hands on my ass pulling me deeper inside of her. What a whore!
Eventually I got around to taping her wrists to her calves and then each connected arm and leg to the sides of the bed so she was pinned open on her back like a frog in a science class.
That was when I slowed things down, remembered my game plan.
I beat her slowly. Gave her time to beg between strikes. Holy shit, the things she promised to make it stop!
“Yes! Yes! I’ll be your whore!”
“Call me, Master!”
WHAP!
“OW! OKAY! OKAY! You’re the master!
“And if we go to see a movie and I tell you to suck it right there in the theater?”
“Yes! Yes! Please don’t! Please! I’ll suck you! Wherever you want! Whenever you want!”
WHAP! “Yes,.. Master!”
“OWEE! Yes Master! Yes Master!”
Of course she didn’t mean it. Staring in horror at the belt in my hand poised to strike her puss again, she would have sworn her love for Allah if I told her to.
“Beg me to lick you.”
“What?”
WHAP!
“AAAIIIIEEEE!!!”
“Beg your son to lick your cunt.”
“I….I….”
WHAP!
“OH GOD! OH GOD! SAVE ME LORD! HELP ME JESUS!
WHAP!
“I’m your god now, bitch. Beg for it.”
WHAP!
“Please Junior!… Please!”
WHAP!
“Beg for it, Mom. Beg me to lick your pussy.”
“Okay! Okay!…..Okay………Please lick me.”
WHAP!
“OOOOOHHHH! OOOOOH! OOOOHHH! I DID it! I asked you!” She bawled in confusion.
“Like you mean it! Beg for it!”
“Oh God! Oh God! Please lick Mommy’s vagina! Please lick it! Please, Junior! I mean Master! Please lick me Master!” she babbled in desperation.
That was good enough for a first lesson, so I did. For a long time. Turns out my mom will cum if I so much as breath on her clit which makes torturing her so much fun.
I fucked her slow with my fingers and my tongue. I played with those giant nipples. I shoved fingers into her ass. She loved all of it. Eventually she stopped sobbing and just gasped and moaned. Every once in a while her thighs would quiver, her toes would curl, her hips would start to rock against my mouth, and white cum would flow from her pussy like a liquid jackpot.
She begged me to stop pleasuring her, but after the first few times making her pop, I sort of wanted to see how many times I could make her do it. The answer is: *a lot*.
Good times.
Chapter 3
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