Chapter 8

After mom called Wendy that night, Rodney left to meet her and try to save their relationship, again. Lynn and Shell were tucked into their room, and I was told to knock on my mom's bedroom door once they slept.

"Come in Jules."

I gripped the knob and twisted. The door moved awfully slowly. If I could have opened it slower I would have. Mother stood next to her bed, wearing a loose, green silk nightgown and brushing her long, dark hair.

"Gee mom, I could come back later." Like maybe next week?

"Close the door behind you. We have to talk."

"Umm, okay." The click of the door latch sounded like the seal of my doom.

"Come and sit down." She indicated the bed beside her with her knee. Her gown rustled like warm wind.

I walked to the side opposite her and sat. So far my dick remained inert.

She watched me as I walked around her bed.

"Jules, I've been wondering."

"Y-yes mom?"

"Do you think I look sexy?" She tilted her head and smiled at me.

Now I thought my mother was the most erotic creature on Earth. Her hair, she so seductively brushed, flowed across her shoulders like silken licorice. It fell down her back in curtains of midnight water. In figure, she'd added a few pounds since her prime, but the keen wisdom shining in her eyes made her more beautiful than a super-model. Her breasts hung a trifle low, but their modest size gave them a subtle, but alluring cleavage. Fat tits are a waste of good chocolate, I say. Fine breasts are gourmet platters. Mother's were an artist's master-work. Her belly was just big enough to be soft, without waves. Her hips, wide and womanly, and her toned legs, I remember their grip the previous night. She had used them together to suck me into her wanting loins.

Something was wrong. My cock, it wasn't getting hard. I was surrounded by the inviting glow of my nautilly clad mother. The air sustained the subtle perfume of her sex, and I hadn't had sex in 24 hours. My mind swirled with ardor, but my dick lie in my groin like a dead slug. Mother must have noted my initial panic. She walked around the bed and took me in her arms. I listened to her whisper in my ear.

Mom hadn't asked her question, expecting an answer. "See, my naughty boy, there are greater things under the sun than sexual psychic powers, or God's meddling with genetics, or whatever the hell's going on with you.

"You - you did something to me. The meal! You put something in the meatloaf!"

"No, honey. Not at all."

"But what is it? What's happening? Why am I so soft?"

"It was the chocolate cake." She winked and released me. Mother stood up and went to her dresser. She set her brush on top of it.

I was about to squeak out, 'why?', but it was instantly obvious. I had raped my own mother. "But mom, is it healthy? What did you use? I'm a teenage boy. What if I'm suppose to get hard a lot. How often do I have to eat that stuff? And for how long? Will it damage me? What about my sexual adulthood?"

"Oh, I think you crossed that line yesterday. How does it feel to have YOUR sexuality manipulated?" She did not speak this cruelly. She asked it only to underscore her lesson. "Jules, I laced your cake to prove you can control your desires, even if you have to use a drug."

"I don't know what to say."

"I'm not going to poison you, and if you'd like, we can experiment with what it will take to let you stay in control. But that's a decision you have to make. Jules, this is more important that your biological imperatives. You have to control yourself, or your brother will be proven right, eventually." Mother walked back to her side of the bed.

"Okay. I guess I deserved it." My eyes were misting up. "I-I know you didn't deserve what I did last night."

"Hush. That's in the past now. What will you do about your future?" Mother sat down on her bed. "The current problem is, I've been thinking about you, a lot. Ever since last night, I've had the oddest cravings. I was furious at you yesterday, but by morning I couldn't get the memory of you inside me, out of my head. I'm worried your power has serious after-effects."

"Do you think," I grew alarmed, "maybe that's why Wendy dressed up like a hooker."

"Poor girl. When I called her, she sounded so ashamed. She admitted she liked Rodney very much, but she had never imagined going all the way so early in their relationship. She told me, if her father found out, she wouldn't be allowed to leave her house ever again. What they did was really foolish, but I should have reasoned with them instead of going ballistic. I promised her he wouldn't find out. Got that?" She intoned adamantly.

"Yes, yes. I won't tell a soul, but let's hope the neighbors weren't watching. What about you, mom? What did you mean by cravings?"

"I've been struggling with my feelings." Mother confessed. "Honey, what you did was very powerful for me. I haven't been with a man for a long time. You know I don't like to pick up dates. My four children cause me enough distress. I don't need a man to add to the excitement." She paused and looked deep into my eyes. "All day I've been fighting being excited around you."

"Mom, maybe I should go. Maybe my power doesn't need a boner for an antenna."

"No, it's not the same, at all. The first time it happened in the kitchen, when I went berserk, afterwards I felt the same things. I got really horny, and I couldn't get you or Rod out of my fantasies. The feelings lasted for a couple days, but you're my son's after all. I kept a lid on it." Mother pulled herself across the bed and smoothed her gown. She studied me longingly. Her pupils dilated like black tea cups.

My eyes grew wide at her revelation. "Th-then you must be feeling..."

Suddenly my mother shrugged off her nighty, and her tits popped into view. "Please son, suck mommy's nipples!" She reached out and grabbed my head.

"Hey! Ohh- plllppt!" So much for her letting me choose my own level of control.

She planted my mouth squarely upon a breast and she cooed delightedly as she stroked my hair. "Mommy can't control herself. She needs you honey. She needs her son to make her feel good again. Suck me good honey. Suck my tits real nice."

What can I tell you? My dick might have been a poster child for Viagra, but as I was about to learn, a hard dick isn't everything. I sucked on my mom's tit like it was fresh melon. My nostrils tickled from imaginary wisps of honeydew and cantaloupe. Her fingers ran through my young locks reassuringly. I forgot all our troubles, but I did worry a little about her strange regression to baby talk. It sounded so uncharacteristically submissive. It was like I was with another woman who was also my mother. My dick would have hardened to steel at her first words if it weren't for the nasty chemicals I had been fed.