Mother-Daughter Addiction

"Hazel? Are you awake in there, baby girl?"

I hate it when she calls me that. And I hate it when she asks me stupid questions like 'are you awake in there?' It's so infantilizing. A part of me wants to finally scream at her that I'm an adult, and she should start treating me like one. But I know she'll hate it more if I just stay quiet, so that's what I do.

It's getting dark outside, and I'm sitting cross-legged on a tiny, unfamiliar bed. Right now, my mom and I are on this stupid trip that she planned, because she's sad and desperate and has nothing else going on in her life except for obsessing over my personal business. We're in some stupid nowhere town in Florida. It's hot here, and way too sunny. I've always hated having to go outside, and it's even worse when you add sand, that weird ocean smell, and a million different bugs into the mix. So far, I've spent the entire trip locked up in this tiny cramped bedroom, a book in my lap.

My mom jiggles the door handle. But I locked it.

"I know you don't like the beach during the day. But maybe we could go for a walk together now? It's nice and cool out," she says in that cutesy, sing-song voice she's used on me since I was two. I keep ignoring her, and she jiggles the door again, then sighs.

"Sweetie, please. Just let me in."

"Can't. I'm naked."

"Then put some pants on?"

"Too lazy."

"Hazel, I don't care if I see you naked. It wouldn't be the first time. Please just open the door? I just wanna chat a bit. We don't have to do anything else."

"Ugh, you make everything so

weird.

I just don't feel like talking. I'm reading."

"Maybe we could talk about what you're reading?"

"No."

"Hazel... baby girl..."

My mom just sounds sad now. And I get this awful feeling in my chest. Like

I'm

the problem, even though my stupid dad was the one who left. Suddenly I feel tiny and pathetic, like I always do when she talks to me.

I tuck my legs up against my chest.

My mom waits a few minutes more, then I hear her footsteps on the carpeted floor.

"Well, I'll be out here, okay? I can make some tea, if you want. Or... if you want anything, just let me know."

I want to feel like a normal girl,

is what I want to say to her.

But I'm not going to say anything that embarrassing. So I just wait for her to leave, and then I return my attention to my book.

It's not the kind of book you'd expect a young woman to be reading. It's massive, ancient, bound in crumbling leather and hand-inked. I technically have it on loan from an antique library. And I'm obsessed with it. Somehow, I can understand the spidery handwriting that spills across the pages, even though I'm pretty sure it's in a language I shouldn't know. These kinds of things have always captivated me more than anything else. And isn't that kind of pathetic? I've spent all of my highschool years holed up in my room, pretending I'm a witch. I've never had a boyfriend, never even been

touched

by anyone besides my mom. If I actually let a boy even hold my hand, I think I'd explode.

But I want to change that. No, I

need

to change that.

So I have this completely stupid plan.

I trace my fingers over the page of the open tome in front of me. The ingredients it lists are simple: rose petals, jasmine, honey, a sprig of saffron. I got everything from the grocery store before we left, and now I pull out my backpack and start unpacking all of the ingredients and squishing them down into a tiny glass tumbler that I bought from a gift shop. It still has tiny cartoon dolphins on it and everything. To blend everything together, I pour in some pure, clean spirits.

The end result... is a glass full of random herbs and Everclear. I groan.

I feel so stupid for thinking this would actually work. But ugh, I'm so

desperate.

I don't know how else to say it. I want to get touched. I don't care if it's just handholding, kissing, getting my tits grabbed, or even full-on sex. If someone doesn't put their body on mine by the end of this vacation, I'm going to lose it.

Just thinking about how badly I need it starts to make me ache

down there.

I'm such an absolute mess. And I wasn't lying to my mom earlier, when I said I was naked. Currently, my dirty clothes are piled all over the floor, and my unshowered, scrawny nude form is sitting cross-legged on the sheets. I know I'm not much to look at: I'm bony, with tiny boobs and a bunch of weird freckles all over my shoulders, chest, and butt. My hair is a frizzy brown mess, and I've got permanent raccoon eyes from sleeping poorly.

But I have a way to make them love me.

An entire crowd of boys, all pawing at me, maybe even

using

me...

I start swirling my fingers over my flower. I'm already dripping just from imagining that one scene, and it doesn't take long before my fingers are slick with my own essence. I plunge two fingers into myself, teasing my sensitive folds, bringing myself closer...

closer...

"Nnnngghh... uh..." I gasp.

That was loud. My mom probably even heard it.

I can't stop myself from imagining her sitting on the couch just outside of my room, trying to focus on a book, her face going bright red when she hears her daughter cumming in the room over.

Wait, fuck, why am I thinking about that?

I try to push the image out of my mind, but for some reason it stays. She's out there all alone, while I'm doing such dirty, pathetic things to myself...

I pull my hand away from my flower before I can cum. I do

not

want to risk cumming while I'm imagining my mom. Ew. A thousand times ew.

I hold up my hand. It's glossy with my own love-slick. The moonlight pouring through the window glints on the wetness coating my palms and fingers. This is the last ingredient. I dip my fingers into the mixture of spirits and herbs, swirling my own nectar into the mixture. At this point, I don't really expect anything to happen. But something does.

The herbs dissolve, and the Everclear takes on a deep pinkish color. The same color as the soft insides of my flower. I hold the mixture up and smell it. It smells strongly of

me.

It's a bizarre feeling, and it stirs this shameless horniness in my stomach. I want to run to the mirror, to admire myself, to start rubbing my hands over my own chest, my ass, my feet, even my pussy, to feel every sensitive inch of my own body...

I pull the potion away.

I didn't think it would work! And I didn't think it would be this

strong.

My head is still spinning with arousal, and with desire for

my own body.

I bet that just a few sips of this will have boys all over me! Maybe even multiple at the same time...

I set the tumbler on my desk, then I kick my feet up in the air and roll out of bed.

I need to get ready.

***

"Nnnngghh... uh..."

Hazel's voice. Moaning.

Mona was trying very, very hard to pretend she hadn't just heard what she thought she'd heard. It was normal, she reminded herself. Her daughter was a woman now, and women had needs. Mona indulged in a little self-love too, every now and then. Though she

had

been enjoying her own body less frequently in recent years. It just didn't feel the same, getting herself off, having nobody to hold her.

She wrapped her arms around herself in a pathetic little hug.

Weirdly enough, she found she wasn't grossed out at all by the knowledge that her daughter was masturbating in the next room. It made her feel slightly closer to Hazel. And wasn't that just awful? What kind of a mother was she, if the closest she could get to her daughter was this kind of lecherous voyeurism?

Mona rested her head on her arms.

After a few minutes, in which she heard plenty of mysterious rustling coming from Hazel's room, the bedroom door opened and Mona's daughter stepped out. The two women regarded each other silently for a moment.

Mona was, in many ways, the exact opposite of her daughter. Where Hazel was waifish and slender, Mona was bottom-heavy and slightly plump. Hazel kept her hair long, in a giant adorable mane that framed her narrow face with curls of pretty auburn hair. Mona's hair was darker, and she liked to keep it cut short so that it fanned out around her cheeks. Hazel was pale and covered in freckles, Mona had a creamy tan all-over. And of course, Mona's motherly chest absolutely dwarfed her daughter's own.

Mona brightened the second she saw Hazel standing there, wrapped in a towel and looking haggard.

"Oh! Hey, sweetie. You feel like joining me after all?"

"No," Hazel said. "I'm going out."

"Out?" Mona asked. Her daughter had never been the kind of girl to go

out.

Mona couldn't even remember the last time Hazel had spent a Friday evening doing something other than reading alone in her room. "What do you mean?"

"I... got a text from some friends. I'm going to go hang out with them," Hazel said. Her eyes wouldn't quite meet Mona's face. It was plainly obvious she was lying. Mona's heart ached. She wanted her daughter to have friends! If Hazel would just explain what was going on...

"Oh. Well that's wonderful, baby girl. Maybe we can spend a day together tomorrow instead?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Hazel turned on her heel and headed for the bathroom, bare feet slapping against the tile floor.

Mona sighed. She collapsed against the couch.

So now her daughter was keeping secrets from her. A part of her wanted to be happy, knowing that Hazel was finally starting to behave like a normal teenage girl. But she couldn't help but feel even lonelier than before. Her daughter would be leaving for college at the end of the summer, and Mona felt like she didn't even

know

Hazel.

She glanced over at Hazel's room. The door was still slightly ajar.

From the bathroom, Mona could hear the soft hissing of the shower and the splashing of water against her daughter's skin.

She stood up and tiptoed over to Hazel's room. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. Inside the room, she saw her daughter's clothes tossed all over the floor, along with several heavy books in a language Mona couldn't read. Hazel really was smart. A bit of warm affection kindled in Mona's chest. She glanced around the room, not entirely sure what she was expecting to find.

And then her eyes landed on it. A single glass tumbler stood on the room's dresser, a bottle of Everclear next to it. The glass was full of something pink and exotic-looking. Mona pinched her lip between her teeth.

Of course. Even though Hazel was only eighteen, Mona guessed that most girls her age were probably already drinking. She'd certainly enjoyed some illicit vodka and wine with her friends at that age.

But it didn't look like alcohol in that cup. Had Hazel mixed it with something?

Mona picked up the tumbler. She raised it to her nose and smelled the liquid inside.

It smelled like

Hazel.

Like the sweetness of her hair, like the musk of her sweat, like the familiar, comforting scent of her body... and like the naughty, sultry smell of her daughter's dirtier parts. A sudden rush of warmth spread through Mona's body, from her cheeks down to the tips of her toes. She let out a small gasp of delight. It was like Hazel was right here, pressing up against her, her daughter's body heat flooding into Mona's own chest.

She exhaled, and the feeling began to fade. But as it faded, she found she missed it.

No, give Hazel back...

she thought.

So she took another deep whiff of the strange concoction. This time, she held it in, her body memorizing the intimate scent of her daughter.

Hazel. Hazel. Hazel.

The feeling began to fade again though, leaving Mona yearning for her daughter even more than before.

Hazel. Hazel. Hazel...

Before she even had a chance to think about what she was doing, she tipped the tumbler back and swallowed its contents. The liquid burned at first, but the burn quickly faded as it was replaced by a giddy rush of warmth spreading through her. It

tasted

like Hazel. The thought made Mona's cheeks burn. She didn't want to think about that. And yet she relished the taste. Her beautiful daughter. Her baby girl. She loved her so much.

Mona slammed the tumbler back down onto the table.

What had she done!? What was even in that thing?

Her head was spinning now. But she wasn't worried for her own safety. All she could think about was Hazel. The drink's smell had been incredible. Its taste was even better. But Mona still felt weirdly empty. Her body ached for the real thing.

Hazel. Hazel. Hazel...

The door to the room creaked open. Hazel stepped in, wrapped only in a towel, her wet hair sticking to her shoulders.

Mona's heart clenched in her chest. Her eyes raked along Hazel's body, from her bare feet, along her slender legs, up to her hips, which the thin towel clung to, revealing her daughter's willowy figure. Lately, she'd barely gotten more than the occasional glimpse of Hazel, whenever the young woman was out of her room. But now, just openly staring at Hazel, Mona was overcome by just how beautiful she was. And all that was covering her naked body was a thin towel...

"O-oh," Mona gasped. "Hey, b-baby girl."

"Mom. What are you doing in my room?"

"Just, um..."

Hazel's eyes flicked to the empty glass by Mona's hand. "You drank it!?"

"I didn't know what it was! And besides, you are

way

too young to be drinking hardcore stuff like this. A little wine or beer would be fine, but this is..."

"No. No, no, no. Oh my God. Oh my God. Mom that was..."

Hazel kept glancing between Mona's face and the empty tumbler. She looked horrified.

"...never mind. It probably won't work anyway. Whatever. I'm going out, and I need to change."

"Out? Wait. Sweetie, please," Mona begged. The thought of spending an evening without her daughter physically hurt, like a sharp object getting lodged in the center of her chest. More than anything, she wanted to wrap her daughter in her arms. To feel Hazel's body pressed against her chest, only the towel separating her from her daughter's bare skin. Then when the towel fell, she could finally be as close to her daughter as she wanted...

Mona shook her head. What was wrong with her? That drink must have been stronger than she thought. Her cheeks were burning.

Hazel gave her a long look. Mona glanced away.

"Please just stay with me," Mona whispered. She hated how

needy

her voice sounded. But it wasn't a lie. She'd give anything just to have her daughter close to her right now. To hold her in her lap while they watched a movie, to cuddle as they slept, to kiss her...

"No," Hazel said. "I'm tired of being... like

this,

okay? I hate being a weirdo who never does anything fun. And nothing is fun when I'm with you."

Mona winced.

She couldn't make herself look her daughter in the eye.

Hazel took a deep breath. "There's a group of boys from my class staying a few houses down. They're having a party tonight. I'm going to join. Tonight, I'm going to have fun. I'm an adult now. I'm going to actually live my life. And tonight, I don't need you."

Mona winced. Hazel might as well have slapped her.

Her daughter must have realized she'd gone to far. She pressed her lips together, then turned her back.

"G-get out of my room," she said. Her voice was thin and stuttery. "I'm going to change."

Mona's head was spinning. She took two steps backward, out into the living room of their rented condo. Then Hazel shut the door in her face.

Mona leaned against the wall. She took several deep breaths, but nothing seemed to calm her. An absolute torrent of emotion was running through her chest.

What did she drink? The insatiable heat from that Everclear concoction was still lurking under her skin. Her hands still ached to reach out and touch Hazel. Her chest wanted to be against Hazel's own. Her lips wanted to find her daughter's cheek. She just wanted

Hazel.

But her own daughter had rejected her. Nothing was fun when Mona was around, was it? But she'd been the one to plan this entire trip! She did

so much

just trying to finally see her daughter's beautiful smile again. And it never pleased Hazel. Her daughter wasn't just moody, she was

mean.

She didn't seem to even care just how badly Mona needed her. Did she even realize that she was all Mona had left?

Mona's fists clenched at her sides.

The thought of spending an entire evening alone, pining for Hazel, it was agonizing...

***

I can't believe her! She just barged into my room and

drank

it! Ew, ew, ew! My own mom just swallowed my...

Ugh. I can't even think about it. No way.

I'll just pretend it was only Everclear. She doesn't need to know. And that stupid thing probably wouldn't have worked anyway. I'll still go to the boys' party and enjoy myself. I'll just be super flirty and fun and they'll love me. You know what, I'll be as easy as I need to be if it'll get me laid. Just please, I

need

to be touched tonight.

I picture one of the guys in my class running his hands along my body, rough palms against my skin as he feels up under my dress...

My heart clenches. A weird, cold wave of feeling breaks out along my body.

But that's probably just nerves. Once I actually let a boy get his hands on me, I'll start enjoying it. I definitely will.

I drop my towel, but I don't let myself examine my gross, scrawny body in the mirror. If I spend too much time looking at it, I'll just get psyched out. Instead, I start getting dressed. I slip on sheer frilly panties that I got off AliExpress for $3.78, but they

look

super slutty and hot even if they're made out of some weird itchy fabric. I don't bother with a bra. And to finish everything off, I pull on this tight, showy club dress that I spent all of my summer savings on. The skirt is so short that the lower part of my butt peaks out, and the neckline plunges almost to my belly button. It feels more like an experimental swimsuit than a dress.

I pull my hair up into a bun, then turn and face myself in the mirror.

I look like... me. But dressed like a wannabe whore.

Not exactly the confidence boost I was hoping for.

But whatever! I'm showing a ton of skin. Boys love skin. They'll still go for me! The second they see me they'll...

My stomach heaves a bit. Oh my God, I'm really freaking myself out. Just calm down. This is my big fun night, remember? I'll just go down there and party it up. Once I get into the groove, I'm going to have so much fun.

I slip my feet into my flip flops. I forgot to bring actual shoes. Whatever.

I take a shot of my Everclear. Which was a bad idea, because it tastes like pure gasoline and leaves me choking and sputtering. I put the bottle down and wipe my mouth. My head is suddenly super fuzzy, and the world is crazy bright. I open the door and step out into the living room.

My mom is leaning up against the condo's front door. She has her arms folded across her chest, and she's not looking at me. Instead, she's just staring at the floor. Her cheeks are

super

red. Does she know? That she just drank my, you know...

I won't let myself think about that. I walk right up to her and tap my foot against the ground.

"I said I'm going out. I'm eighteen, you're not stopping me."

My mom looks up, and she locks eyes with me. She looks mad, but she still smiles at me.

"It's okay. You can go have fun with me, baby girl. If that's what'll make you happy."

She still doesn't move out of the way.

"But you have to give me a goodbye kiss first."

"A kiss? You're being weird. I haven't kissed you in forever," I blurt out. But once I've said it, I get this weird twisting feeling in my chest. I really haven't kissed her since I was little, have I?