Chapter 8: Awake again ... but where?

Shawna’s next memory was of a low hum and then of increasing light. A moment later, her green eyes fluttered open and, while her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, she looked around.

“We had a car accident mom.”

Shawna’s head now turned to her right, following her son’s voice, until she saw him. He was sitting in a chair, by her bed, in what she was now starting to realize was a room inside a hospital. Shawna’s head sunk back onto the pillow while a sense of relief washed over her completely.

“Oh god Jason, I ... I had the most horrible dream.”

The admission came out as a moan of utter relief. None of it had actually happened. Of course, it couldn’t have been real. Nothing that horrible could ever have been real.

“What?” said Jason.

“You mean one where you were naked on your back in the middle of a bunch of 14-year-old boys who all recorded it on their cell phones while your very own son fucked you until you came all over his cock? Right there in front of everybody? And, in this dream, did you scream so loud that no one could doubt that you loved every single second that your own son slid his hard dick back and forth in your pussy? Yeah mom, that wasn’t a dream. That actually happened.”

“WHAT!?”

Shawna’s head jerked off the pillow so violently that a bolt of pain shot down through her neck. It was real. She was back in her very worst nightmare and the pretty Catholic mom once again thought she would vomit. The world was still coming into focus and now, for the first time since awakening, Shawna realized just how sick she still felt. Her tongue was swollen as well as sticky and dry in her mouth. Her skin felt clammy, and she was nauseous, with a pounding headache to boot. Lastly, she felt weak as a kitten, her wrist screamed in pain while her ribs and arms merely ached to the point she still wasn’t sure she could move them. Tears welled up in her eyes as the same sick fear she had felt in the bus now grew in her stomach again.

“Yeah so see mom, here’s what happened. Me and Damon, you know, we had to be able to explain how you got all fucked up. Wrist broken, arms and ribs all beat to shit, even knees a little bruised, so a car accident was just what we thought we needed. So, after we put you to sleep, the two of us had a couple other black boys put your clothes back on and load you into a car around the corner from where the soccer tournament was. Then me and Damon had the coach cover for us, he said he’d tell people we was feeling sick and all, and that you were going to drive us home. Damon drove on account of he’s done it before and he made sure to stick to back roads only. Don’t want to get caught on camera coming back through any of those toll roads with Damon in the driver’s seat. Once we get this other car back to the parking lot where we left our minivan, Damon and I load your still unconscious ass into the Caravan and, as we’re coming around that sharp bend on Forester Road, we just don’t make the turn. I’m driving, you’re in the passenger seat and Damon’s in the back. All of us are wearing seatbelts. There was a risk that when the van went off the road it would roll over, the roof would collapse, and one or more of us would break our necks but, luckily, that didn’t happen. Instead, the minivan goes down the embankment and rolls over once, coming to rest up against that big weeping willow that’s down there. Damon and I then move you into the driver seat and then he gets out and runs back up the embankment to a car bein’ driven by one of his friends who came back with us in the original car. Obviously, he wants to get out of there before anyone else comes along. They bug out and I call 911 saying my stupid-ass mommy just rolled her fucking minivan and the two of us are all fucked up. Course when they get there, by some miracle-”

Jason raised up his hands, extended the first two fingers on each hand and then bent them and unbent them twice, indicating he was making quotation marks.

“By some miracle,” he now began again, “I barely have a scratch on me while you’re unconscious with a broken rib and your arms and torso all beat to shit. Maybe your knees a little too. The ambulance gets there, they load you into the back of it and we’re off to the nearest hospital. The paramedics admit you and, when no one is looking, I give you an injection with the reversing agent of the drug we used to put you to sleep. You know, I didn’t want anyone coming in here and interfering with me bringin’ you up to speed. And don’t worry, nothing we gave you will show up on a toxicology screen just in case they give you one or ... gave you one.”

Shawna was speechless for even a mind as brilliant as hers was having trouble grasping the magnitude of what her son said. In front of her was someone or something that looked like her son, the sweet and adorable boy that, this very morning, she had loved with all her heart. Yet, this was not her son. It couldn’t be. Her son was kind and thoughtful, soft-spoken and shy. This imposter was obviously a psychopath, for only a mentally ill person with no capacity for guilt or shame or remorse could speak so easily about all the terrible, degrading things he had done to her. The pretty Catholic mom didn’t recognize the slightly smiling blond boy sitting in front of her at all. The words that came out of his mouth, the calm way in which he said them, and the way he acted; it was as if he were straight out of the Terminator or Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It was as if, before her, sat an alien creature that looked just like her son but was obviously, terrifyingly different.

“Hey,” Jason now said, snapping Shawna’s whirling mind back to reality.

“Damon finished splicing all the videos together. You wanna see a video of the smug, self-righteous and superior little miss Shawna Lynn McDonnel cumming her fucking brains out while being fucked by her own son from like ... maybe 15 or 16 different angles?”

Shawna’s head now sank back onto her pillow as she struggled with just what Jason was asking. Of course, she didn’t want to see it. The fact that it merely existed was just one more of an uncountable number of terrifying realities with which she would have to cope.

“Hey what do you think mom? You think everyone you know, everyone you’ve ever known ... heck Grandma, Grandad, Aunt Kira and Uncle Charlie, everyone you and they are friends with on social media ... all the people at the church ... what do you think they’re going to say when they see this video? What about dad and all his friends? Think he’d like to be known as the guy whose wife is up on the internet, buck naked and on her back, spreading her legs so her own son can fuck her perverted little slut pussy and cumming her fucking brains out on top of that? Think Grandad wants to be known as the guy whose little princess is such a depraved whore that having the dick of her own son repeatedly shoved up inside her wet pussy makes her cum her fucking brains out?”

Shawna now cast her eyes onto the floor. Even though Jason was responsible for this, it was she who felt ashamed. The pretty Catholic mom tried to tell herself it wasn’t true even to the point of denying it out loud.

“I ... I ... I d-didn’t.”

Shawna’s voice cracked at the end of the statement which then slowly devolved into another pitiful sob. To this, Jason said nothing, instead getting up out of the chair and walking towards her. Shawna now recoiled from her own son and, in that instant, the pretty Catholic mom knew that this was her new reality. She would now only think of herself as a 38-year-old fully grown adult woman who was so pathetically weak as to be afraid of 14-year-old boys. As she recoiled, Jason came and stood next to her. In his right hand he held a cell phone and, as he now held it out towards her, Shawna could see a paused video on its screen. Jason looked up and smiled at her and, as he did so, his left index finger touched the phone’s screen at its center. The image there sprang to life and started to move and Shawna, her green eyes bulging with horrified disbelief, now saw her image, their image, in the video playing on the phone’s screen. It was a shot of the two of them and she and Jason were already naked; naked and having sex, each partner in this most taboo of all couplings seeming to be fucking their family member with 100 percent of their energy and enthusiasm.

“OH GOD FUCK! OH GOD FUCK, I’M CUMMING!!!! OH GOD OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! GUH-GOD YUH-YUH-YES PLEASE JAY-JAY-SUHHNN! FUH-FUH-FUHHHHHHK-FUHHHHHHK-FUHHHHHHK MEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Each word was perfectly clear as it came out of the expensive Samsung’s speakers but, as sharp and as crisp as the sound was, the image was even better. Shawna thought she had never seen such a giant cellphone; it looked every bit as big as the tablet she had at home. Now, as she watched the abhorrent video with so much helpless horror, Shawna thought she could see so much detail that she could count the individual sweat droplets on each of their bodies. Why did it have to have been such a sunny day on that terrible afternoon? Why did their bus have to be outfitted with interior lights?

The most horrifying thing of all, Shawna now saw, was that, in the video, she seemed to be a willing participant. Even though it showed Damon lying beside her; as she watched Shawna saw, to her great dismay, that neither boy seemed to be restraining her. It was almost impossible to believe and never in her life had she so much wanted something not to be true but the pretty Catholic mom could now plainly see that she appeared to be fucking her son, not only of her own free will, but also enjoying every second of it. The expression on her face was one of extreme stress and agony.

Her eyes were tightly shut and every muscle under the skin of her beautiful face seemed to be twisted into knots and yet the high-pitched screeching noise that she made left no doubt that the 38-year-old suburban white mom was having an intensely powerful orgasm. The video on Jason’s phone only lasted about 30 seconds before it played again; only this time the images of Shawna fucking her own son, apparently with the greatest of gusto, had been recorded from a completely different angle.

In this one her face was harder to see but her bald, wide open cunt was clearly visible. It was engorged, bright red and swollen with blood indicating her extreme state of arousal. It was also dripping wet; the viewer could now watch it as, for every single second, Shawna’s very own son slid his cock back and forth inside her pussy. Nausea once again overwhelmed her and Shawna thought she might be sick. Her aching body heaved and, if she had eaten any food since that morning’s breakfast, it certainly would have ended up on the hospital’s clean bed sheets.

Finally, this second clip ended and a third one appeared. This one was taken from her other side and Shawna now had to watch as her upright and olive tinted breasts bounced back and forth in rhythm to her own son’s thrusts as he passionately fucked her pussy. Worst of all, the pretty Catholic mom now noticed, was the expression on her face. In the video, she had lifted her head so far off the bus seat that her chin was almost touching her chest., Her eyes were tightly shut and the tightness of the muscles in her face could be interpreted in several different ways. It could have been a look of extreme concentration or one of a woman having to endure the most humiliating experience possible. Lastly, and Shawna thought, most terribly, she supposed some people could misconstrue it as the look of a woman who was savoring getting fucked hard by her own son and who was about to have another earth-shattering and excruciatingly pleasurable orgasm.

An orgasm that’s about to be brought on courtesy of her son’s penis. Oh my god. Oh, my fucking god. Oh, my holy Christ, no one can ever see that video. The worst ... people always think the worst. When ... when people see something like that ... they ... they’ll always ... they’ll want to assume the worst about the woman they ... that they’re watching.

“I’m gonna send it to everybody.”

Jason’s tone was casual, almost cheerful, and Shawna once again wondered just who this person was who could talk about humiliating his own mom, who could talk about destroying the woman who had loved him more than anything and do it in front of the whole world as if it were nothing.

“Jason ... please ... you can’t. I-I mean ... I-I’m your mom and I ... I luh-love you. Please, what ... what did I ever do to make you want to hurt me in this way?”

Jason’s look was one of confusion along with genuine surprise and hurt.

“I ... I don’t want to hurt you mom. I mean ... nothing would make me happier than if you never got hurt again. And you’re going to be the one who decides whether that happens. It all just depends on you accepting the new order and that’s you understanding that you’re both inferior and subservient to every living creature with a penis. As long as you do what any and every male tells you to regardless of how degrading or repulsive or publicly humiliating it may be, you’re golden. Understand? Anything with a dick gives the orders now. You just comply and you’ll never have to worry about getting hurt again.”

Shawna didn’t give herself any time to consider the horrifying implications of just what she was agreeing to. In fact, she told herself, she wasn’t agreeing to anything. She was just going along, doing what she had to do and saying what she had to say until she could figure a way out of her current predicament. That would happen, soon she was sure, for she wasn’t about to spend the rest of her life, heck, she wasn’t about to spend even one day letting 14-year-old boys do anything they wanted to her now that she knew what they were capable of. For now, Shawna knew, she would have to play along. She would get those videos back. She didn’t know how but she would. The alternative was simply unthinkable. Shawna’s head nodded in agreement as hot tears of disgrace started to roll down her cheeks. It was a charade, Shawna kept telling herself, but, even if her new paradigm only lasted a few hours, her fictitious acceptance of submission and subservience to everything male was still almost unbearably humiliating.

“Good” Jason said as he watched his mom reluctantly agree, “and, if you’re still thinking about going to the cops, you know, you’ll have to explain this.”

The black backpack that Jason took to school every day rested by his foot. His hand now reached inside it and came out with a stack of papers about a half inch thick. He laid them on the hospital bed in a place where she could reach them, and this Shawna did while wincing against the pain she felt when she moved her arms. She pulled the pages closer and, with another new sense of growing horror, started to read.