Chapter 14

For Melinda, some Sundays were doubly frustrating.

It was bad enough to be dragged to church and sit through a boring sermon that she would not remember more than five minutes after it had concluded, but Sunday was the day that friends and relatives would drop by to visit. Melinda was forced to sit through these tedious sessions still in her good Sunday clothes, and woe to her later if she misbehaved in the slightest. This was compounded by the fact that Heather was exempt from these, as her mother felt she was mature enough to have her own things to do.

At least one thing had changed. Heather used to give Melinda a smug grin as she left her baby sister to her fate. This time, her smile had been almost sympathetic.

When her mother bid goodbye to the last of their visitors, Melinda launched herself from the couch and hurried out of the room.

"Melinda!"

She stopped and sighed, rolling her eyes before whirling around. "What it is, Mom?" she asked a bit sharply from the hall.

"Come back in here, Melinda, I need to talk to you."

Melinda bit her lip nervously. She recognized that tone of voice. Aw, shit, what did I do now? she thought despondently.

She stepped back into the living room, walking with heavy footsteps just short of stamping. This drew an immediate look of disapproval. "What is it, Mom?" Melinda asked, forcing her voice softer.

Penelope Sovert -- or "Penny", since she hated the name Penelope -- just looked at her daughter for a moment, hands on her hips. A hard expression was set on her otherwise gentle, oval-shaped face framed by dark red hair, drawn into a ponytail behind her head. She extended a single arm and silently pointed to the sofa.

Melinda sighed and dropped like a stone onto the cushions. There was no need in pretending to be nice. It was obvious to her that her mother was mad at her for something.

Penny looked at her daughter and folded her arms. "Melinda, I got a call last night from Mrs. Conner."

Melinda's eyes widened a touch but she remained silent.

"She's very concerned about you and Jason, it seems."

"Huh? Why?" Melinda blurted. "We're not doing anything wrong!"

"Are you sure of that?"

"What?? Of course I am!" Melinda cried, though her cheeks grew warm.

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not!" But her cheeks just grew redder.

"Melinda, you're a little young to have a boyfriend right now."

"Most of my friends have boyfriends already!"

"I'm not their mother. I'm your mother."

"Yeah, don't remind me," Melinda grumped before she could stop herself.

"Melinda Ann, that's enough," Penny said firmly. "Don't talk back to me."

"You let Heather talk back to you all the time!"

"Melinda, we're not talking about Heather now, we're talking about you."

"Well, I don't want to talk about me," Melinda said adamantly. "Jason's a... a friend. That's all. He's not doing anything wrong."

Penny appeared to pause for a moment.

Melinda silently fumed. She hated being forced into the position of defending Jason. She was supposed to be angry with him. He didn't stop Richie, and he took advantage of her. If he had at least even tried to make her cum, she would not be so upset.

"I just don't want you... well, trying anything that you're not ready for yet."

Melinda blushed even more furiously at this. "I'm not," she said in a small voice.

"Just like you're not going off on your own on days that you're supposed to stay with your sister?"

Melinda gave her mother a stricken look. "How did you... but... !"

"No 'buts', Melinda. I told you I don't want you off on your own, so this will stop now."

Melinda gasped and jumped out of her seat. "C'mon, Mom! No!"

"Don't shout, Melinda. Okay, you don't want to hang out with your sister, that's fine, but starting tomorrow, on days I'm working, you stay home here."

"That's not fair!" Melinda wailed. "Stop treating me like a baby!"

Penny swayed a bit and her eyelids fluttered.

"I'm old enough to do something things on my own. It's not like I even leave the neighborhood here. I just hang out, that's all! What's wrong with that?"

Penny swallowed and raised a trembling hand to her forehead, taking a deep, shaky breath.

Melinda stopped and stared at her mother. "Mom? What's the matter?"

Penny stood still for another moment with her hand on her forehead. After a few more seconds, she steadied. Her hand no longer shook as it dropped from her head. She let her breath go in a single, smooth sigh, her body giving one last small shudder before growing still.

"Nothing's the matter, Melinda, dear," she said in a decidedly sweeter tone of voice. Her lips curled into a pleasant smile.

Melinda's mouthed dropped open. "Mom... a-are you sure... ?"

"You know, Melinda, you're right," she said. "I have been treating you unfairly."

Melinda just gaped, speechless.

"I'll stop doing that right now. You can keep going out during the week on days that I'm working."

"You... you mean that?"

Penny smiled and nodded.

Melinda felt a chill. The look on her mother's face was just like what she would see in the others at the house. "Mom, are you sure you're all right?" she asked in a small voice.

"Never better, dear."

"You don't... you don't feel funny or anything like that?"

"I did for a moment, but not now. Can I do anything for you? Anything at all?"

A small smile came to Melinda's lips. "Anything?"

"Anything."

Melinda was not sure why that particular thing came into her head, but she had barely formed the thought in her head when her mother spoke again.

"Wait, I know. Would you like me to make those chocolate cupcakes of mine that you like so much?"

Even though she knew her mother was just echoing her own desire, Melinda stared in disbelief. "On a Sunday?"

"Sure, why not? Anything for my wonderful daughter."

"Uh, sure, Mom, that would be great."

"I'll started on that right away," Penny said. She stopped in front of Melinda and touched her cheek lovingly before heading straight into the kitchen.

Melinda stared at her mother's back until the woman retreated out of view.

Her skin felt flushed, and her sex tingled madly. Her emotions barreled through her head in a torrid rush. She had just used some of that power from the house on her own mother. She felt at once elated, spooked, and guilty.

Is this what it would be like if she had the power all the time, her mother treating her more in the way that Heather was treated? For a just a brief moment, Melinda craved more. She wanted to see what she could really do with something like this. She could finally have some of the things she always wanted. She could finally have her own room! Privacy at last!

Grinning, Melinda started towards the kitchen. As she grew nearer, she heard the sounds of pots and pans being moved about beyond the door. She was just raising her hand to push open the swinging door when she hesitated.

Her smiled slowly faded and she lowered her hand, backing away from the door a step.

Was that too much too soon? Wouldn't she have to control her mother for awhile to get her to do those things? It could take days or even weeks to get what she wanted. She couldn't see herself doing that. Something about that idea creeped her out.

Melinda sighed. No, she had to let go. She couldn't do this to her mother. She'd stop.

She paused, then smiled to herself and turned away from the kitchen.

Well, I can at least let her make the cupcakes first, she thought.

Jason had trouble focusing on anything that day.

If Saturday morning had been bad, the afternoon had been worse. It had been as if his mother had been waiting to pick up their argument from right where they had left off. This time, Jason's father had done nothing to intervene. Worse, Jason had sensed silent, seething anger from him, as if the man somehow knew that his son had controlled him.

Jason felt stupid. Of course he would know! Just like Melinda, Heather, and Richie all knew afterward that they had been controlled, having remembered the actions they took and how they were powerless to stop it. If he didn't think Jason was responsible, he knew something strange had happened, and he had not liked it one bit.

Now it was Sunday, and Jason spent much of the morning languishing in his room. For once he wished his parents were churchgoers. At least then he would have had a chance to see the others. Maybe Melinda would have talked to him, and he could have convinced her not to be mad at him anymore.

Jason was a mass of conflicting emotions and thoughts. He still felt it was wrong to have this power, yet he didn't trust the others with it, either. He felt compelled to return to the house, to watch the others. His own forays into using the power he could keep in check, he was sure of it.

Walk away from it. That was the "right" thing to do. But would Melinda do the same? Or would she keep going back? Could she not be trusted to do the right thing either? Worst of all, Jason still liked her very much. If he didn't go back, would she ever want to give him the time of day again?

He needed answers, but he did not even have anyone of whom to ask the questions in the first place.

Except one.

Jason sighed in resignation and dropped into his seat before the computer. He called up a map-finder service, and looked up the Sunny Hills Nursing Home. He tapped his fingers impatiently as the computer sent the map to the printer. He snatched at the sheet barely a second after the printer had ejected it.

The home was only a little over two miles away, right up Green Avenue, in the northeast corner of the town. He hastily folded the map and thrust it into his pocket as he burst out of his room. He was down the stairs, through the garage, and on his bike before his mother noticed he was heading out. He ignored her indignant shouts from the front door and pedaled away as fast as he could.

Richie had lapsed into sullen silence by the time his mother drove them back home after church.

Well after church, Richie realized with resentment. He had been forced to wait around in the car while Sandra flirted with a man that had to be ten years her junior. It had been obvious where the conversation had been leading, for she had playfully slapped a hand from her body three times. Each time she had let him get a little further, until the last attempt she had let him fondle one ass cheek briefly before finally batting his hand away.

After walking into the house, Richie said in a low voice, "You're going out again."

Sandra looked at her son, giving him a small, humorless smirk. "Oh, now whatever gave you that idea?" she said in a sarcastic tone of voice before heading up the stairs.

"You were out all afternoon yesterday!" Richie countered, chasing after her. "And the evening!"

"Yeah? So?"

"Would be nice if you stayed home. Like you did Friday."

Sandra stopped just past the top of the stairs and spun around. She regarded Richie with an angry look in her eyes, but a trace of anxiety flickered in them as well. "That wasn't my idea," she said flatly.

Richie said nothing.

Sandra's eyes narrowed, her muscles tensing. She knew something odd had happened that night. Her rationality told her that her son could not possibly have been responsible for it. Fear told her something else. "You wanted me to stay home," she said.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Sandra remained silent for a moment, as if daring him to confirm the unthinkable.

"So why can't you stay home today?"

Sandra continued to hesitate, as if expecting something to happen. She sighed and forced herself to relax. "You don't need me here today, Richie. You've got plenty to keep you occupied."

She turned and quickly headed into her bedroom. Richie tried to follow, but she slammed the door shut in his face.

"What about dinner tonight?" Richie bellowed through the door.

"I don't know, Richie! If I get home in time, yes."

"How long does it take to fuck, anyway?" Richie muttered in a low voice as he turned away from the door.

He trudged down the hall to his own room and quickly changed out of his Sunday clothes, anxious to get into something more comfortable. By the time he was done, he heard his mother's door open already. He popped out of his room in time to see his mother trot past him. All she had done was fix up her hair a little, change into a very short skirt, and slip on some black stockings.

"What, already? You that desperate?" Richie said, blurting out the words before she had a chance to reach the stairs.

Sandra stopped and glared at him. "Watch your fucking mouth, smart-ass."

Richie ignored this and stepped up to her. She flinched slightly, and he saw worry cloud her eyes briefly. "That's what you look like to me," he said. "Couldn't go two days in a row without getting laid?"

Sandra laughed. "Yeah, like you're one to talk. I can guess what you've been doing every morning. And don't give me that fucking innocent look, either. I know you haven't been at the park to play ball in nearly a week."

"But at least I'm home for dinner, which is a lot more than I can say about you!" Richie shouted.

"Stop being a little fuckwit and get over yourself!" Sandra screamed back. "You're fourteen. Stop acting like a big baby!"

Sandra started down the stairs, Richie glaring at her back.

"I don't want you out late, Mom," he declared loudly.

Sandra stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The hand on the banister trembled.

"I mean it."

She took a deep breath and let it go as a rattling sigh. Her fingers curled reflexively until the knuckles turned white.

Richie felt the rush again, and the sudden, abrupt arousal. "Let him fuck you all he wants," he said. "But don't stay late. I want you to make dinner tonight."

Sandra's hand relaxed. Her mouth stretched into a serene smile. "Of course, dear," she said in a soft voice. "I would love to do that. May I go now?"

Richie slowly grinned. "Sure, Mom."

Sandra nodded once and headed towards the front door.

"Just remember what I said, okay?" Richie called out, and started back into his room.

"Of course, Richie," she said, though he was already out of earshot. "Let him fuck me all he wants, and be home to make dinner."

She quietly let herself out the front door.

Melinda heard the door to her room click shut. She looked up just as a hand abruptly snatched the magazine she was reading from her hands.

"Hey!"

"Shut up," Heather snapped, throwing the magazine to the side. Her eyes flicked over to the small plate on Melinda's night table and the chocolate cake crumbs scattered over it. She picked up the plate and stared at it for a moment, as if needing to convince herself it was real. "Fuck, she even let you eat in our room??"

Melinda just gave her sister a smug smile.

Heather put the plate down with a loud clatter, casting a dark look at Melinda that made the younger girl's smile fade. "All right, just what the hell is going on?" Heather hissed. "What's wrong with Mom?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do, you little snot. She's sitting in the kitchen looking really freaked out about something. I've never seen her like that."

"Freaked out?" Melinda said in a low voice, giving Heather a wary look. "What do you mean?"

"She looks like she saw a fucking ghost. She keeps looking at the bowls and stuff from the cupcakes she made and shaking her head."

Melinda bit her lip. "Uh..."

Heather narrowed her eyes. "You do know what's going on, don't you?!"

"No!" Melinda cried, eyes wide. "I don't!"

"Fucking liar."

"Heather, please, I... I didn't do anything, okay?" Melinda said in a quavering voice. "I mean, I didn't hurt anyone."

Heather paused a moment, still staring at her little sister, trying to sort out what she just heard. "So you did do something," Heather said in a low, dangerous voice. "You did something to Mom, didn't you?"

Melinda swallowed, stricken and quivering.

"You did the same thing to her we do in the house!" Heather said in a shouting whisper. "Mel, how could you?!"

"You would have done the same thing! She was going to make me stop seeing Jason! Then I couldn't go to the house anymore! I had to do something!"

Heather snatched the plate up and threw it into Melinda's lap. "Yeah, and I suppose cupcakes were critical to that plan, huh?"

Melinda's cheeks burned. "What's the big deal?" she said sullenly.

Heather dropped her head into her hand. "Mel, you can't do things like this..."

"Oh, yeah? And if it had been you and she told you that you can't see Brad anymore, what then, huh?"

"Never mind that. Why do you care if you can see Jason? I thought you were pissed off at him?"

"I am," Melinda said in a softer voice. "Sorta."

"Look, you can't do this anymore, okay? Not to Mom."

"You're just jealous that I can do it and you can't!"

Heather snorted. "Yeah, right. So how'd you get the house to give you that power, Mel? Beg? Shed a few crybaby tears? Make it pity you?"

"Shut up! You're the one that wanted to bring Brad into the house so you could boink him the way you wanted. Or do you want to try to get the power too so you can do it yourself?"

Heather could not help but flash a brief but smug smile at this.

Melinda's mouth dropped open. "You've already done that!" Melinda squeaked. "You have!"

"That's not the point, Mel..."

"Like hell, it's not! You have a lot of fucking nerve, telling me what I can't do, when you've done it yourself!"

"But not on Mom!" Heather said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, yeah? Why not?" Melinda demanded.

Heather almost told her. She almost told Melinda what she had seen happen the week before. Heather had tried to catch her mother at it again, but Penny knew she was being watched from the start, and had kept her time with the reverend short. The look on the woman's face when she had seen Heather watching her had been one of annoyance.

Whatever was going on with her mother, she didn't need Melinda making it worse.

"Because I don't do it," Heather said, not knowing what else to say.

"You don't have to. She gives you everything you ever want. Everything for Heather, she's the ma-TURE one," Melinda said in a mocking tone of voice. "What if I want something now and then, huh? I can't go running to Dad for everything. Mom treats me like a baby. Just like you do."

"Then stop acting like a baby. You want everything your way, don't you?"

"Oh my God, just listen to yourself! Heather, what did I just tell you? You already get everything your way! I want the same thing here that I want at the house. I want it to be my turn for a change. Why is that so bad?"

Heather paused for a moment, dropping her gaze. "All right, I understand," she said in clipped tones. "But don't do it this way, okay? Let me talk to Mom. Maybe I can get her to..."

Melinda sneered. "Oh, yeah, sure, how generous of you. Then I'll owe you another favor. Nice try."

"Melinda, I didn't mean that!"

"And maybe I don't need you to do it anyway, since I can just get things from her myself now!"

Heather stared at her little sister. "You can't do that, Mel! You..."

"Shut up, Heather! Just shut up! No more! Don't tell me what I can't do. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of just being your 'baby sister'. I'm tired of you getting all the attention. I'm tired of you calling me 'Mel' or 'runt'. And I'm tired of you. So, fuck you, Heather. Fuck you and Mom!"

Melinda was sniffling back tears. She reached over and picked up her magazine, putting it between her and Heather.

Heather resisted the impulse to pull the magazine away from her sister again. She uttered a small and barely audible sigh before standing up and heading slowly out of the room.

"You want to see who?"

Jason resisted the urge to cringe at the critical look that the nurse gave him. Already he was so nervous he had to keep his hands in his pockets so they wouldn't shake, only to realize that made him look too much like the kind of kids they would much prefer to keep out of a place like this. He forced himself to take his hands out and clasped them tightly in front of him.