Chapter 26

“Your mother is so lazy. I do not know how you stand it. It’s already 7:45 in the morning. I had some leftover hash browns, bacon, sausage, biscuits, ham, and pancakes, and I thought you might enjoy it,” she offered sweetly.

I’ve never said one word to this woman in over a decade until yesterday. In fact, the first time I saw her I was not even sure she WAS Mr. Johnson’s wife until she rode her bike over to her trailer. Now, she was bringing me breakfast.

“Come on in,” I said.

“I really cannot stay,” she stepped right in as soon as I offered.

“Cunt, get out here and crawl,” I pointed to the ground.

“Oh my, do you have to use such obscene language in front of me?” Mrs. Johnson appeared to abhor vulgarity, but I had heard her be rude to my mom earlier.

“I call her a cunt, because Lori is one, and it helps reinforce her place,” I said.

Mrs. Johnson nodded a tacit approval and looked around the house with disgust. Our house was tidy, and everything seemed put away, but she didn’t like it. We didn’t have a lot of clutter, but we did have some knick-knacks and thing-a-ma-bobs my mom has collected over the years. “There isn’t a lot of counter space. Is there a safe space I can set this down?” she asked.

There was plenty of counter space, although admittedly our deep fryer, coffee maker, and other kitchen gadgets took up a lot of space. She could set the tray down in front of them. I pointed to a spot. I thanked her and said that this was really quite considerate. I assumed she would leave right after delivering the food as I would have.

“Does your mother remain crawling like that all the time at home?”

“No, but for meals she does eat like a dog,” I said.

“Really? That’s utterly disgusting,” Mrs. Johnson sounded fascinated by her mother’s conditions. “I brought this over for you, so you could have something other than Instant breakfast and cereal, but if you want to share it with her you are more than welcome.”

I ripped off a piece of pancake from the plate that Margaret brought over and hand-fed my mother with it.

“Yesterday you grumbled and complained about being on your hands and knees for so long! Here I find out that you crawl around all the time,” she chided my mother.

“My son lets me have gloves and knee pads for long periods,” Mom said.

“I’ll make sure she wears them the next time she comes over,” I assured her.

“I would be uncomfortable with her nude in the front yard, so you’ll need to bring something to cover her body,” Mrs. Johnson said.

“Yes Ma’am, would a shirt be sufficient? Or could I get her a bikini or something?”

“She’d probably delight in the attention the bikini affords her. I would opt for something simple like a shirt and sandals as you had her in yesterday. It was practical.”

“Feel free to order her to lift her shirt and search her. My mom steals sometimes - nothing important, just odds and ends. I find them under her boobs sometimes,” I told my mom to lift her tits and show us what was in her mouth. She did and opened her mouth wide.

“My niece suffers from the SAME condition. Nobody knows why she steals what she does, or why she would crave sexual intercourse in any manner, but I do at least commend you for trying to control her urges,” Mrs. Johnson added. “It should be unthinkably humiliating to carry on this behavior, but you have a compulsion dear. Please do not hold it against your dear son. This is for your own good.”

Mom looked down. I think she was trying not to laugh.

“She’s ashamed of you seeing what a slut she is,” I explained.

“Do you ever praise your mother when she does good, or do you only speak to her with scorn and ridicule?” she asked.

“I do both, but it probably seems more like I have to talk down to her. It’s what gets through to her,” I said.

“I agree, if you don’t mind some advice, any praise that we ever heaped on my niece went unnoticed and taken for granted. Yet, anytime we spoke harshly to her or made demands, then she might listen.”

Mrs. Johnson was a real ball-buster. “Any word from your sister?”

“No, how would there be?” she asked.

“You said you emailed her last night,” I said.

“Oh, dear boy,” Mrs. Johnson explained that she wrote a letter to her sister. “You and your emails. I have a phone, but I hardly use it. I suppose I could try to email my sister as well. I wrote to her to tell her that your mother seemed to at least be willing to accept her condition and that was a start.”

I said that it was and quietly turned on my phone to record this interaction. “Do you want to watch our morning routine?” I asked.

“I really can’t stay. I should be getting back to Walt,” Mrs. Johnson politely declined, but then didn’t leave.

I explained that my mom prepares the food in the morning and then she eats off the floor. I told her that I had different approaches, but since she was here, I would show her the simplest way. I made my mom remain on all fours, put some of Margaret’s food in a bowl, and some tap water in the other, and then I put it on the ground.

Mrs. Johnson seemed disappointed I’d give my mom so much of the food she meant for me to have. However, she had brought over more than enough for three people to have a hearty breakfast.

“My condoms as well, Sir,” My mom admitted nervously as she parted her legs wide and hovered over the dog dishes.

“Oh yes, mom loves the taste of cum and so rather than cut her off cold turkey, I let her keep little souvenirs from the men she bangs. That’s why I call her a cum dumpster,” I said as I went to the bathroom and returned with one of the last condoms pinched in my fingers.

“Absolutely disgusting,” Mrs. Johnson looked down at my mom.

“I know, but you should have seen how much cum she’d eat before this,” I said as I dribbled the cum from the condom into her bowl and discarded it.

“How long has that been sitting out?” Margaret was incredulous.

“I don’t know, probably a day or two,” I said.

I told her that we’d eat at the table and asked her if she wanted to have a seat. “I would love some coffee,” Margaret said.

I snapped my fingers and told my mom to make it.

“A Keurig? Oh, no thank you,” Margaret rolled her eyes at the instant coffee maker we had. It was simple because all you have to do is put it in a little capsule. I rarely drink coffee. I didn’t enjoy it. “On second thought, beggars can’t be choosers,” she said.

“You can finish eating later,” I told my mom after she made the coffee. “Crawl into the bathroom, get your toothbrush, and toothpaste, and re-fill those two enema bottles. You can walk back out.”

Mom hustled to do as I told her.

“Your mother is beastly. Have you ever considered having her committed?”

I laughed that off and didn’t take offense to it. We were after all embellishing a lot of the truth. “I could never be without my mom. I am happy to take care of her,” I said.

“You are such a good boy, Jerry. I had no idea. I apologize for not visiting sooner. That wasn’t very neighborly of me.”

“You were probably put off by mom’s slutty clothes,” I said. My mom never dressed slutty -not really. She had some slutty clothes and she had been out drinking on Friday and Saturday nights in the past but nothing big. The sluttiest clothes were for work at home. However, Mrs. Johnson was all too happy to believe it and agreed with me.

“You have allowed your mom to go out of the house dressed that way recently,” Margaret said it like she was having trouble understanding my motivations and a little skeptical I was even telling the truth anymore.

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, Mrs. Johnson. I sometimes feel sorry for my mom, and I indulge her a little now and then,” I said.

“You are a good and kind, Son. No one can expect you to be strict all of the time, but I will say that she seems better for it when you are,” Margaret agreed. She watched my mother bring out two full plastic enema bottles and a toothbrush.

“We are all out of condoms,” she told me.

“That’s a lie. Did you drink the last one in there?” I said.

“No, Sir,” my mom insisted.

“Lift up your tits, show me under your arms, turn around and pull your ass crack apart,” I said. My mom dutifully complied. “Get on the floor, lift your legs above your head and show me that snatch,” I said.

Inside her pussy was a wet condom dripping with cum.

Margaret was fit to be tied. I was so pleased with my mom and so happy that I was recording this. I got it, a perfect shot of the condom sticking to her pussy like it did not want to leave as I pulled it out. I only wished I had the reaction on Margaret’s face. It was a combination of shock, surprise, disgust, and a seething sort of anger for my mother stealing.

“Sorry, Sir! There is still some cum left in it,” she pinched it and pulled it out.

“Pour it on our toothbrush and scrub your asshole with toothpaste!” I said.

Mom demonstrated in front of Margaret. She spread her cheeks and even put the tip of the toothbrush INTO her butthole this time.

“What is the point of this debauched spectacle while you are trying to eat?” Margaret looked away but I could tell that she shifted her eyes back to watch my mother’s every move.

“I am used to it while I am eating, sorry about that. The toothpaste is going to sting and make her dance around. She has to keep it on for five minutes. She’ll coat her pussy and then brush her teeth.”

“You use her own erogenous zones that she would normally use for pleasure, to torment her?” Margaret asked me as if I was a true sadist.

“Yes,” I explained.

“I wish I had not sealed that envelope I wrote to my sister. I may try to email her after all. Is this because she stole the condom?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t punished her yet. This is something she does every morning to just set the tone. I usually make her sing a humiliating little song while she waits but since you are here, I can forgo that.”

“I’d rather not intrude,” Margaret clearly wanted to hear it.