Maria stood outside her daughter's room, a hand brush in her hand.

Sitting on the bed was her daughter Isabelle, looking absent mindedly out the window. Maria shook her head as she looked her daughter over. What a complete tramp she looked. Her top barely covering her budding breasts, her flat smooth midriff completely bared, and that mini skirt leaving nothing to the imagination as nearly all her firm legs were exposed. Was that a black thong that peeked out under that skirt?

Maria shivered at the skimpy clothing her own flesh and blood dared to put on.

"There is NO WAY you're going out like that honey!", she had told her baby not twenty minutes before. She had been sitting in the family room, watching TV when she caught sight of her teenage daughter bouncing down the hall towards the front door.

"I'm going out mom, see ya!"

Maria had put her foot down. No daughter of her's will be going out like that. No way!

Maria moved forward into the room, catching the eye of Isabelle who stared stone cold at her. Well this wasn't supposed to make her daughter happy. Harsh lessons were a reality of parenthood. She was a mother first and her daughter's friend second.

"I said NO!" Maria had yelled, standing before the door, arms crossed and foot tapping the floor.

"You're just jealous!"

"What? Don't be ridicules."

"You're just envious cause you cant pull this sexy outfit off."

"Nonsense! And that isn't the point, I don't want you looking like a complete and utter whore!", Maria scolded back at her girl, nonsense indeed. Was it so wrong to want to protect her girl's dignity?

And how could she be jealous of her teenage daughter? She was happy for her girl that she could fill out such an outfit, but to show it off like a whore, a tramp?

The two of them stared at each other, daughter on the bed, mother standing just inside the room. It was almost like a duel, seeing who would sike out the other.

Maria broke the stare, looking down at the brush handle, holding it tighter in her palm. This just had to happen, she told herself. She had to demonstrate who was in charge here. Jealously or not, love or envy, this was what it had to come to.

Maria took a few steps closer.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Boy that hurt, that really did. No mother wants to hear that. Why did she have to go so low?

"Please don't go there baby, I love you, I only want to..."

"You don't love me, your a jealous BITCH!"

She had gasped at the word. Such a stinging word. A word of complete disrespect. Only the worst of daughter's say it to their loving mothers.

"Bitch" echoed over and over in her head as she took another two steps forward. The cold stare on her face crumbling just a moment. Her daughter's never faltered, cold as ever.

"I can wear that piece of trash any time, but I don't have or WANT to lower myself. Sluts and whores wear that garbage. You're my daughter, my angle, you don't have to..."

"I'm no slut! I'm sexy and you can't handle it. You can't stand that I have the looks you don't have any more!"

Maria turned to the side, looking at herself in her daughter's full length mirror and shivered. Her teenage years long since gone, the body she once had has moved on to her daughter.

But damit that's ok, let her daughter have the looks of youth, of sexuality. She had her fun when she was younger, but now she's the mother. She doesn't have to look as good as her daughter, as sexy, as slutty. She can be the mother, the guardian, the bitch!

Maria shook her head. No no no, not the bitch. She is a woman, a mother, a person with respect. So what if her daughter can't understand that. Won't listen. She'd make her listen. Show her who's the boss. It's what has to be done.

A few more steps and Maria was standing before Isabelle, her daughter. Brush in hand she stared down at the unrepentant girl, sitting practically naked on her bed.

It didn't have to come down to this. If only her daughter could listen to reason. If only she could understand the compassion her mother had for her.

But she didn't. She had no respect for her mother's authority. None at all. And it made her sad to tears as her eyes swelled up.

Isabelle stared sternly up at her mother, who stood comically dressed in one of her daughter's micro mini skirts, the hairs of her untrimmed pussy peeking out below. Maria's sagging tits practically popping out of the revealing tube top, with a slightly bulging midriff bare just like her much more fit daughter.

"Bitch!", uttered Isabelle as her mother began to sob lightly before her, holding out the brush, offering it to her stern faced daughter. Isabelle took the handle and watched her sniffing mother lay herself over her daughters knees till her hips lay just over them.

"Who's the whore now?" Maria said nothing as she wiped away the tears, her daughter taking hold of the micro skirt and rolling them up and over her mother's heavy bottom. Isabelle let her hand rest on her mother's chubby cheeks, patting them slightly, letting the meaty sound linger in the air hypnotically.