Mike and Helen
Copyright© 2025 by work for nothin
Chapter 17: The Invasion.
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 17: The Invasion. - Helen Price and Mike Price are a mother and son who are in an incestuous relationship. After a long relationship, Mike becomes increasingly obsessed with his mother and wants to possess her completely. Can Mike completely possess Helen, who has decide to be one of the women of a gang leader named Big Daddy?
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Ma/Ma Consensual Rape Romantic Fiction Crime War Incest Mother Son Orgy Interracial Black Male White Female Anal Sex Double Penetration Fisting Sex Toys Cat-Fighting Violence AI Generated
The midnight approached with a silent promise and the city outside the mansion’s walls a cacophony of distant sounds that seemed to amplify the tension within. Big Daddy, Mike, and two of his most trusted men climbed into the Wrangler Rubicon, the engine rumbling to life with an echo that seemed to shake the very foundations of their resolve. The city streets were a blur of neon lights and shadowy figures, the anonymity of the night offering them a temporary shield as they drove towards FDB’s fortress.
Big Daddy sat in the driver’s seat, his hand resting casually on the gear stick, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Mike was in the passenger seat, his heart pounding in his chest as he checked the time on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The two men in the back, both heavily muscled and armed to the teeth, were silent, their eyes scanning the streets with the precision of seasoned soldiers. The air in the car was thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and anticipation.
“Remember, boy,” Big Daddy said, his voice a low rumble, “stick close to me. I’ll keep you safe.” Mike nodded, his grip tightening around the gun in his lap. He knew the risks, but the thought of bringing FDB and his gang, WMX, to justice fueled him with an unshakable resolve.
They arrived at the mansion’s outskirts, the towering gates looming like a twisted welcome to hell. The night was alive with the buzz of anticipation and the distant sound of a party in full swing within the walls. Big Daddy pulled over a hundred feet from the entrance and cut the engine. The silence was deafening as they climbed out of the car, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat of their adrenaline.
“Now, remember,” Big Daddy murmured, his voice low and serious. “Mr. Taylor will call when the transfer’s done. First thing we do is hit the electric station. We need those lights out before we make our move.”
Mike nodded, his heart racing as he followed Big Daddy and the two men through the dense foliage, the underbrush crunching beneath their boots. They approached the electric station, a nondescript building nestled in the shadows of the mansion’s sprawling grounds. Big Daddy gestured to the two men, and they moved swiftly, placing explosives with practiced ease. Mike watched, his breath shallow, as the men stepped back, their faces grim in the flickering light of the detonator.
“We’ve got to wait for the partygoers to leave,” Big Daddy murmured, his eyes on the mansion’s windows, which were alive with the silhouettes of figures moving behind the curtains. “Once they’re gone, we can make our move.”
Mike nodded, his eyes on the gleaming metal of the guns and the shadows of the men who held them. He knew that tonight would be the night that changed everything. The night he’d become a man. The night he’d became his mother’s pride.
They crouched in the shadows, their eyes glued to the mansion’s grand entrance as the partygoers began to trickle out, their drunken laughter and the occasional crash of a champagne glass piercing the quiet of the night. Each departure brought a collective exhale from their hiding spot, the tension palpable as they waited for the perfect moment to strike. The men’s faces grew grimmer with every passing minute, their focus unwavering as they scanned the area for any signs of trouble.
One by one, the partygoers staggered out of the mansion, their laughter and chatter gradually fading into the night as the last few guests climbed into their luxurious vehicles and drove away. Each car’s taillights grew smaller and smaller until the only light was the flickering glow from the mansion windows and the occasional flash of the moon peeking through the clouds.
The wait was agonizing, but necessary. They needed to ensure that FDB was distracted and that the house was as empty as possible before they could safely proceed. Mike’s palms were slick with sweat, his eyes never leaving the grand entrance of the mansion. He could feel the weight of the gun at his side, a constant reminder of the gravity of their mission.
And then it happened. The shrill sound of Big Daddy’s phone pierced the night, jolting Mike to attention. Big Daddy’s hand shot to his pocket, pulling out the device. His eyes lit up as he read the message, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s done,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Mr. Taylor’s got the money, and FDB is none the wiser.”
He turned to the two men, their faces a mix of excitement and nerves. “Alright, gents,” Big Daddy said, his voice a low growl. “It’s showtime. You two,” he nodded to the men, “sneak in through the west side. Take out the power station before they realize what’s happening. We’ll follow once you’ve got it under control.”
The men didn’t need further instruction. They disappeared into the darkness like ghosts, their footsteps swallowed by the earth. Mike watched them go, his heart racing. This was it. The moment of truth. He turned to Big Daddy, who was already pulling out a map of the mansion, his eyes scanning it intently.
“You know where the gang’s room is?” Big Daddy asked, his gaze flicking up to meet Mike’s. Mike nodded, his mind racing with the layout of the mansion from his time there. “Good,” Big Daddy said. “Take them out. Make sure no one gets to FDB before I do.”
Mike’s hand tightened around the gun’s grip as he followed Big Daddy’s two men through the shadowy underbrush. His heart was a drum in his chest, the anticipation of what was to come making every beat feel like an eternity. They approached the mansion from the rear, the sounds of the party a distant memory. The night was their ally, the darkness swallowing them whole as they moved like ghosts across the manicured lawn.
The mansion’s grand facade was bathed in a soft glow of emergency lights, casting eerie shadows across the windows and walls. The moment the explosion rang out, the lights inside flickered and died, plunging the house into darkness. The emergency lamps flickered on, casting a dull, sickly light over the opulent decor. The two men moved swiftly, their eyes adjusting to the dimness as if they’d been born to it.
Mike led the way, his heart racing as he approached the heavy door with the small peephole. He knew what lay beyond—a room filled with FDB’s most loyal thugs, their eyes glazed over from the drugs and debauchery that was a staple of these twisted gatherings. His hand hovered over the doorknob, his breath shallow as he listened for any signs of movement. The air was thick with the stench of cigarette smoke and something else, something that made his stomach churn.
He glanced back at Big Daddy’s men, their faces a mask of grim determination. With a nod, they moved into position, their weapons at the ready. Mike took a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly as he turned the knob. The door swung open with a silent ease that seemed to defy the tension of the moment.
The room beyond was a tableau of depravity—men and women writhed on the floor, their cries of pleasure turning to screams of panic as the lights died. The thugs inside, caught off-guard, scrambled for their weapons, their eyes wild with confusion. Mike stepped into the fray, the gun in his hand a beacon of cold steel in the gloom.
Big Daddy’s men wasted no time, their silenced guns whispering death as they moved with the grace of seasoned soldiers. Bullets flew through the darkness, finding their marks with a wet thud that was music to Mike’s ears. The gang members fell one by one, their cries for mercy cut short by the cold embrace of the void.
Mike felt a rush of adrenaline as he took down his first target, the man’s eyes going wide in shock before his body crumpled to the floor. The room was a chaotic ballet of shadows and gunfire, a symphony of fear and panic. Each thug that fell, each breath of smoke from the gun’s barrel brought him closer to a step towards redemption.
As the last of the gang members lay on the ground, Big Daddy’s voice crackled over the radio. “Freed the women and check the drugs around the room,” he said, his tone as cold and final as the night itself. Mike nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for.
They moved swiftly, freeing the women who were bound and gagged, their eyes wide with terror, their clothes in disarray, their makeup smudged from tears and sweat. His stomach clenched, thinking of the horrors they’d been subjected to. He pulled them aside, whispering reassurances, promising that it was over. They nodded, their expressions a mix of relief and fear.
One of the women, trembling and barely coherent, tugged at Mike’s sleeve, pointing to a large, ornate bed in the corner of the room. “Under there,” she managed to gasp out, her voice barely audible. “The suitcase ... it’s ... it’s everything.” Mike’s heart raced as he approached the bed, his eyes scanning the floor.
Sure enough, there it was—a black, hard-shelled suitcase, inconspicuous amidst the chaos. His pulse quickened as he knelt beside it, his hands trembling with anticipation. He clicked open the latches, revealing a treasure trove of cash and bags of white powder. It was more than he’d ever seen in one place, a stark reminder of the depth of FDB’s corruption.
With a grim satisfaction, Mike secured the suitcase and gestured to the women. They stumbled out of the room, their legs shaky from fear and the effects of the drugs, their eyes darting around in the darkness like trapped animals. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards them. The thought of they being hurt fueled his rage.
In the backyard, the air was cooler, the moon casting a silver glow on the lush grass. Mike’s eyes searched the area for any signs of movement, his gun at the ready. His heart hammered in his chest as he set the suitcase down and opened it, the cold metal of the zipper a stark contrast to the warm night. He began to transfer the stacks of cash into his bag, each bill feeling like a brick of justice.
As he worked, he couldn’t help but think of the lives ruined by the drugs he was about to destroy. The families torn apart, the futures stolen. It was a sobering thought, but it only reinforced his resolve. He had to do this. For justice. For the women they’d just rescued. For himself.
Mike took a deep breath and grabbed a fistful of bills, feeling their weight in his hand. He knew they needed the evidence, but there was something satisfying about the thought of burning it all to ash. To watch the flames consume the fruits of FDB’s evil empire. It was a small act of rebellion, a symbol of their victory over the monster they were about to face.
Big Daddy’s men nodded in silent agreement as Mike pulled out a lighter, the flame dancing in the darkness like a tiny star. With a flick of his wrist, he lit one corner of the suitcase, the flames catching instantly. The smell of burning fabric and cash filled the air, a strange scent that seemed to mingle with the acrid odor of the drugs. The women, still trembling, watched from a safe distance, their eyes wide and fearful.
Mike approached them, the firelight playing across his face, casting it into stark relief. He held out a handful of crumpled bills to the woman who had spoken to him earlier. “Take this,” he murmured. “Use it to start over. Don’t come back here, don’t say anything about what you saw tonight.”
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