When the woman left the house, I ordered my old body to go and sleep and return only when ordered. It slumped on the couch, a drooling, useless husk, knocked out cold by the nano-chip's grip--a limp puppet I'd discarded for something far juicier. I stood in Mom's bedroom, her sweat-soaked, cum-drenched body stuffed into the sluttiest outfit I could rip from her closet: a black leather miniskirt, so tight it sank into her wide, meaty hips like a goddamn chokehold, the hem riding up to flash her thick, glistening thighs, barely hiding that fat, spank-bruised ass I'd been hammering all morning. The top was a sheer red halter, no bra, her monstrous tits bulging out, nipples stiff and slicing through the fabric like they were begging to be gnawed, sucked, twisted raw. I spun her body in front of the full-length mirror, feasting on the sight--Lisa, 43, my mother, now my filthy fuck-doll, her red lipstick smeared into a whorish grin, black eyeliner smudged around her eyes like she'd just crawled out of a backroom orgy. Her dark hair clung to her sweaty neck, the tight bun fraying into a messy crown of depravity. I raked her manicured hands over her curves, clawing her ass through the leather, mauling those heavy tits till the halter creaked under the strain. The nano-chip buzzed in her neck, my perverse master key to this twisted empire--her body, my rules, no fucking limits.
"Fuck me, Mom, you're a dripping cum-whore," I growled, her voice dripping sex, thick with that husky edge I'd jerked off to since I was a kid, picturing her catching me sniffing her crusty thongs. "Look at this nasty slut--built to be fucked raw, gushing for your own sick son." I smacked her ass hard, the crack echoing, her flesh quivering under my grip. "Been dreaming of owning you like this, you sweaty, slime-soaked bitch--now I'm you, and I'm gonna ram every filthy fantasy through your dripping holes till you're choking on my lust." I leered at her reflection, her face--my power--cheeks flushed, lips parted, a toy I'd ram my cock into if I still had it. The rush of possession was a high no drug could match, but I craved more--more flesh, more degradation, more screams to fuel my fire.
"Time to blaze and get fucked up," I rasped, digging through her nightstand stash. I yanked out a fat joint--premium weed she hid behind her perfect-mom facade--and sparked it, the flame kissing the tip as I sucked deep. The sweet, earthy burn flooded her lungs, smoke curling out her nose as I exhaled slow, watching it frame her slutted-up reflection. "Fuck yeah, Mommy's getting trashed," I purred, taking another hit, the buzz slamming in fast, lighting up every nerve--her sweaty thighs rasping in the pantyhose, her tits heaving, her cunt throbbing under the leather. "No rules, no limits--just me, riding your nasty ass into the dirt till it's a stinking ruin." I laughed, a low, dirty chuckle, and puffed again, the room hazing as I twisted her nipple through the halter with her free hand, pinching till it stung. "Gonna get so blitzed I fuck myself brain-dead in your skin, you juicy, festering sow--gonna drown in your rancid slime while I choke you with my perversion."
The air thickened with weed and lust, the bedroom a swamp of rot and sex--stained sheets, crusty toys scattered on the floor, a vibrator still slick from earlier buzzing faintly under a pillow. I staggered to the bed, flopping onto it, Mom's body sinking into the damp mattress, her thighs splaying wide as I ground her cunt against the sheets, smearing her juice into the fabric. "Look at this shithole, Mom," I sneered, her voice slurring with the high. "Your perfect little kingdom, now my filthy playground--gonna trash it till it reeks of my cum and your shame, you sloppy, leaking pig." I grabbed a handful of her tit, squeezing hard, imagining Sarah's face buried in it, her prissy lips sucking for dear life. The thought made my borrowed pussy clench, a hot pulse of need I'd unleash on her soon enough.
The doorbell sliced through the fog, sharp and jarring. I froze, joint dangling from Mom's red-slicked lips, then grinned--some fool was about to stumble into my den of depravity. I swaggered downstairs, her heels clacking like gunfire on the hardwood, hips swaying, tits bouncing with every step. My old body lay sprawled where I'd left it, a drooling lump on the couch. "Stay down, you limp-dick fuck," I sneered, kicking its shin as I passed, Mom's voice dripping venom. I yanked the front door open, and there she was: Sarah, my elder sister, Mom's precious little girl, mid-20s, plain skirt-suit hugging her soft, curvy frame, glasses perched on her nose, trembling like a lamb at the slaughter. Her jaw dropped, eyes bugging out behind those nerdy frames, taking in the sight--Lisa, her perfect mother, decked out like a cheap hooker, joint glowing, tits half-out, leather skirt flashing her meaty thighs, reeking of weed, sweat, and pussy juice.
"Mom?" Sarah stammered, stepping back, her voice a shaky squeak. "What--what the hell--"
"Shut your prissy mouth, Sarah," I snapped, twisting Mom's stern-mom tone into something cruel and gleeful, a whip of control. I grabbed her wrist with Mom's manicured hand, nails digging in, and hauled her inside, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled. "You're not scampering off, you little brat. You're mine now--Mommy's fresh meat to chew on." I blew a thick plume of weed smoke in her face, watching her cough, eyes watering, her good-girl world cracking apart. She'd always been Mom's shadow--obedient, terrified of screwing up, desperate for praise. I hated her growing up, the golden child who got love while I got shit, and now I had her under Mom's thumb--my thumb. Perfect prey for my twisted feast.
