Blurred Reality
Copyright© 2026 by EVHayes720
Prologue
Science Fiction Sex Story: Prologue - Awakening in a strange facsimile of his own reality, the places familiar yet the people oddly divergent, Ted struggles to adapt.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Heterosexual Fiction School Isekai Cream Pie Exhibitionism Oral Sex
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything, sweetheart?” Joanne asked, worry playing across her motherly face as if it pained her not to have catered to my every whim. Kneeling at the chair where I sat, bringing her eyeline to mine, she cocked her head and tenderly brushed the hair from my face, the backs of her fingers just barely gliding along my skin. “Nothing?”
“I’m fine ... mom.”
It still felt weird to say that to her.
The woman in front of me was by all measure my mother.
She looked the same as my mother, her dirty-blonde hair kept short just past her shoulders, her pale blue eyes anxiously searching me for some sign of what was wrong. She wore the same hoop earrings she loved along with her flowing summer dress she always broke out for company; the same white heels that clacked in her steady rhythm wherever she went.
She even sounded the same. The same inflection to her voice, the soft-spoken concern like she was checking a wounded puppy.
Even her smell was the same. Just a hint of vanilla shampoo that lingered all day and the whiff of her perfume whenever she walked by. Memories of growing up in a household with her would instantly flood back in the wake of her passing.
But whoever this was ... she wasn’t my mother.
“Really?” she asked, her voice needling me like only a desperate mom could. “You look so flushed. Water? A snack? A blowie?”
And there it was ... the reason that I knew this wasn’t my mother.
My mother was many things; strict yet caring, friendly and outgoing, but sexually liberated was definitely not one of those things. Sex had been a taboo subject for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t that she was particularly religious, just that she thought it ‘crass’ and wouldn’t have ‘that’ kind of talk in the house.
And yet, she said it so naturally, like a doctor going through potential options. No particular stress in the word, no drop in her voice like it was a shameful, and exceedingly taboo thing, not even a hint of it being awkward with the growing group of visitors we had in the house.
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