The Wrong Treatment

The Wrong Treatment Part II

Mrs. Young bit down heavily on her bottom lip, gritting her teeth and refusing to collapse and surrender to all the abuse she was taking. Load after load crippled the petite mother as Brent hunched over her jutting bubble butt and crammed her pussy with the full girth of his dripping, fat cock. Her knees wobbled unsteadily, digging into the carpet. A balled up skimpy nightgown lay deserted under the coffee table. She was completely naked, a shameless sheath for her son’s meat sword as it continued to fire, depositing another torrent of cum that filled her womb to the brim. Every plunge, a fresh frothy squirt of milky batter erupted from the outer folds of her labia and streamed down her slickened, quivering thighs. She panted, head hanging limp and defeated, chin to her chest. Her light blonde hair, normally straight, was beginning to curl and stick to her sweat glistened face.

She blearily looked between the heavy, swaying 34D breasts she’d possessed since adolescence at the hot mess drizzling down her legs and collecting on the floor between her knees. Never had she felt so fat, bloated, and dirty. Her normally beach toned belly distended with teenage spunk. On every level, it was grotesque. It was bitterly wrong, but instead of clenching and trying to squeeze every sinful glob out like a full tube of toothpaste, she bit her bottom lip and groaned. Another soul-shattering flash of ecstasy radiated and sent tremors rocketing through her.

The symphony of Brent’s pelvis smacking against the flesh of her taut ass echoed loudly in her ears, and the scent of their latest creampie dribbling onto the rug strangled the sensors in her nostrils. She thrust back her hips to meet his pistoning shaft and threw back her head, gasping desperately for air. Embracing her debauchery, her hand disappeared between her legs and began mercilessly rubbing the nub of her sensitive clit like a starved whore. No one, not even her own parents could have stopped her from cumming in that moment. The fingers of her studly son clamped to the meat of her ass cheeks, shamelessly parting them to expose the pink ring within, as he dominated and rearranged her internal organs. He huffed proudly, keeping full control as she whimpered and whined beneath him.

Where was the highly educated, independent, married woman with a medical degree from an Ivy League institution? How had she been reduced to such a mindlessly horny, adulterous and incestuous slut completely subservient to her son’s whims? There was no denying they were a perfect fit. Her toes curled while her pussy invited more of everything her son could give. She accepted the destruction of her vagina and gripped his probing cock with her coital walls trying to trap it forever. What had become of her? When had her son become the sole aspect of her sexual desires? How had he creeped into her thoughts and undone everything like an evil virus?

Twisting her arm back, he replaced his fingers over her throbbing clit.

“Oh Brent, honey!” She gasped. She couldn’t stop herself. The intimacy between mother and son was never meant to go so far. She wanted to turn and kiss him, taste him, and touch his shirtless athletic body. His abs alone were enough to melt for. She had never been a slut in school, but she was not blind to the unconscious pull of an alpha male. His manhood willed its way forward, itching virgin territory as it scraped her inside walls and stirred the soup of sex they’d created together. The last ropes of cum spit into her fiery pussy and she squeezed her eyes shut, face contorted in exhilarated shock. She didn’t think it was possible for a boy to possess so much spunk. She didn’t think it was possible for her to either.

“I love you mom, You’re so hot. And now you’re all mine.”

She shivered at the obscene thought, collapsing onto the soiled floor. She should scold him for saying such things, but the flame was lit and there was no dousing it. She could never go back.

****************************************************************************

I couldn’t believe it. It was gold. I sat wide eyed and flush with an erection begging for attention. I had evidence that could destroy Brent. My hand literally shook as I replayed the video for the third time, this time focusing on the facial expressions of the incestuous duo. Each viewing gave me something new to look at. Brent glowered at his mother with a relentless glare of carnal lust fitting of a wild animal. The way he pounded her senseless, she would probably be walking sideways for a week. I wondered if he’d ever thought about her before ingesting the treatment. The aggression that he had shown, taking and claiming her so completely had to come from somewhere.

Sweat dripped down my forehead as the glow from the screen reflected in my retinas. My eyes ached from staring at the brightness for so long. “Jeeze she’s pretty,” I whispered aloud, still aroused by the way her eyelashes fluttered and her shiny red lips gaped open while Brent strummed her clit. The tent in my boxers twitched, but it was 3AM and I had school at 7.

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I was predictably zonked and ineffective for the first few classes. As lunch approached, the adrenaline of confronting Brent helped pull me from my stupor. How cool would it be to reveal what I know in the middle of one of his takedowns? It would be a legendary blow. A modern-day David vs. Goliath. I marched with confidence to his spot in the halls and smiled as I saw him jovially conversing with his best friends. One of them nudged him as I came closer.

“Yo freak, you lost? Or are you looking to peddle some voodoo crap?” Brent smirked. I soaked in the moment.

“Why? Are you having trouble staying hard for your mom?”

My heartbeat raced, but I distinctly heard a girl behind me stifle a giggle.

One of Brent’s friends piped up.

“Oh shit, bro. You gonna let him shit on you like that?”

Brent eyed me with daggers. Obviously, no one was going to take a ‘your mom’ joke seriously so I continued.

“Yeah, I just happened to walk by Brent’s yesterday when I saw him fucking the shit out of his own mom. They were going at it like rabbits, screaming as he pumped her full of little boy cum.”

Brent’s face went from red to ghostly pale. To everyone else this just meant anger, but I recognized the dread.

“The fuck you say about me?” He lurched forward with the agility of a 185lb varsity athlete and grabbed my collar by the cuff.

Within seconds he had half dragged me down the hallway, around the corner, into an area where no one could hear or see us. He pushed me so my back smacked the brick wall.

“I should break your finger,” he threatened. “Talking like that... I’m going to fuck you up.”

I had pressed a nerve and he was gauging everything on how I responded. Extracting my phone from my pocket, I pushed it into his chest and smiled.

“The fuck?” He said, grabbing it as if ready to smash it on the tile.

“Watch it.” I had the video cued up and ready for him.

He studied me and sneered. I didn’t blink.

With an angry sigh he turned it on and hit play. The volume was on high so there was a moment of scuffling as he freaked out, trying to reduce the wails of his mother’s high-pitched shrieks coming from the little speakers. Shocked, he watched in horror for a good minute of the video. It was high def, and high-quality content. When he finally paused it, I noticed his chest bulging for air. Was he going to have a panic attack or murder me? Or both?

“I have copies.” I explained anxiously before he decided to stomp and break my camera.

He looks up at me utterly dumbfounded, then back at the footage. His hand runs through his thick hair.

“You... filmed this?” he whispered. No shit, Sherlock.

“I filmed you. And now I own you.” I whispered with the sinister confidence of someone who’d practiced the line in a mirror for 20 minutes that morning.

“You own shit.” The tone of his normal self returning.

“No, no, no.” I took a step to my right. “You do anything to me, if you so much as look at me when I’m not talking to you this gets out. To everyone in this school. Hell, I may even post it online. It will ruin you. It will ruin your family. It will ruin your slutty ass mom.”

He gritted his teeth and looked at me like a restrained bull, eyes squinting, and nose flared. I could almost hear the gears catching in his head.

“You’re going to follow what I say from now on...”

“What the fuck do you want?” He spat.

What did I want? In this whole plan, part of me always assumed he would be so angry that I would get an ass kicking and then get to release the video for all to see. I hadn’t really worked out my demands.

“Money.” I declared. “750 dollars. I know you can afford it, you rich asshole. And I want you to...”

“Dude, what’s taking so long? Fucking stuff this kid in the trash. There’s only a couple minutes of lunch left.”

One of Brent’s friends walked around the corner; Richie Armstrong, basically Brent junior. A muscled jock with black hair and a little stubble, a few inches shorter than Brent. He had a twin sister, Misty who did not run in the same crowd. She was not into sports and was more likely to be getting high with her friends than at a game. Though she was one of those girls who preferred wearing jackets and boots, nothing revealing that would sexualize her, she was still obviously very pretty, and I had held a crush on her since 7

th

grade. Even though we share two classes together, I doubted she knew who I was.

“Give me a fucking minute.” Brent lashed out, stuffing my phone in his pocket.

Richie puts his hands up apologetically and looked at me in confusion before walking away. I clenched my jaw. Even neutering Brent, there were a lot of other bullies in the school. The realization hits me like a bus.

“You leave me alone. You stop bullying. You get me the money... And if I ask for your help, you help. No questions asked. I won’t let anyone know about you and your mom. Now get the fuck out of here.” I held out my hand for the camera.

He paused, then closed his eyes and took out the phone. He was trapped and he knew it.

“Last thing,” I smirked. “You might want to watch the PDA around campus.”

He shook his head. The vein in his forehead is more pronounced than ever. I can tell he’d like nothing more than to dangle me off the roof. Not today Brent. Not ever again.

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Riding my bike home, I felt free and invigorated for the first time since I can remember. Not only had my plan worked so I was finally liberated from Brent’s harassment, but a new mission was forming in my mind thanks to Richie.

Taking a detour, I parked my bike and slipped around the back of Brent’s house to the window where I’d installed the hidden camera to the sill of the roof. There were no cars in the driveway, and I was lucky no one was home. A smarter person would have removed the evidence earlier, but I was new to the blackmail thing. Skulking around in plain daylight was dumb, but now that Brent knew big brother was watching, I didn’t have much of a choice. The small recorder had surpassed my expectations. With $750 on the way, it had even paid for itself many times over. I was nearly ready to leave, skulking past the last window, when I caught a glimpse of a large bed. I peered into the master bedroom. The room screamed ‘Adult.’ Everything was so clean and expensive from the chic furnishing, large vanity, and fancy jewelry box resting on the dresser.

What was I doing? I stalled. There was no question I had enough video to ruin Brent’s life. Yet the thought of capturing more was so enthralling, my penis twitched at the wickedness of it all. Instead of stowing the camera I reset it to face his parent’s room window. Even if he found it, I could just buy another I reasoned.

That night I did my homework while streaming the reality show that was my bully’s house. Brent’s father crashed early, and to my surprise it didn’t take long till Mrs. Young joined him in bed wearing nothing but a lacy black nightgown that showed off a lot of shoulder. At least it looked black with the lights off. Their bodies rested still, and I assumed they had both fallen asleep by 11. It wasn’t till I came back from a quick shower before going to bed myself that I noticed the sheets had been tossed aside and that Mrs. Young was no longer in bed. Bingo!

I scrolled back the movie. At 12:03am Brent’s mother began to toss and turn. She wiped her face, and pushed back her hair, clearly annoyed and restless. A minute later I noticed her turn, her hand sneaking between her thighs as her legs brush anxiously against the sheets. She twisted her head back and forth, stifling a gasp into the pillow as her fingers no doubt pleasured her insatiable thirst. Mr. Young let out a hearty snore. She stops and looks over her shoulder at her husband, then gradually maneuvered out of bed and left the frame walking toward the doorway. The time stamp was 20 minutes old and she hadn’t returned yet.

The next morning when I woke up, I see she stumbled back to bed by 4:00am. The black nightie is nowhere to be seen instead she’s covered up in a purple silk bathroom robe. She collapsed and lost consciousness immediately, a satisfied smirk gracing her pretty face. Not a trace of guilt for the multiple sins she had no doubt committed.

------------------------------------------

The plan for Richie was the same as before.

Football practice began 30 minutes after school, and I lurked behind the bleachers. On the edge of the track surrounding the fields a group of cheerleaders were training. As the players ran from the tunnel, I noted where each placed their bottles. I was about to down the confidence vial when I noticed, among the few kids scattered in the bleachers was an adult. She could almost pass for a teen, but I immediately recognized the Blake Lively haircut - Brent’s mom. The blazing heat pumped down around us giving everything a watery glow.

The busty mother reclined across two rows of seats, in a tight crop top and pencil skirt that hugged her skinny waist and flared hips like a second skin. Her light, voluminous, shoulder-length blonde hair reflected the sun and framed her delicate features. The same face I watched twist in sinful yearning as she buckled under her son’s assault. Large aviator type frames gave her the look of a movie star as she basked in the bright rays, exposed arms stretched and leaning back, and long, golden legs crossed in front of her. It looked like she was chewing gum while watching the football players. She should be careful; It was uncommon to see a parent attending their kids’ sports practices past like third grade, and I wasn’t the only one who picked up on the attractive visitor.

As football practice began, many of the players snuck peeks at Mrs. Young. Removing a little tube of sunscreen from her purse, she put on a bit of a show squeezing a huge dollop of the white stuff into the palm. The naughty contrast of her red painted nails and the white lotion made time slow as her hands descended the slope of her delicious, long legs. I found it hard to swallow as the graceful blonde mother flaunted her feminine glory to a team of testosterone fueled varsity kids in their prime. She carefully rubbed and kneaded the sexy flesh, making sure to repeat the process while waxing her shoulders and neck.

“Heads up!” I saw one player get whacked in the back by the ball. Ouch.

His attention was where half the fields was. It’s a good thing they wore cups to hide their boners. With the players eyes wandering toward the bleachers, it gave me ample time to sneak down and add the love cocktail to Richie Armstrong’s bottle. I didn’t dare use more than a few drops given how strong the reaction had been between Brent and his mother. 15 minutes later I saw him jog to the sidelines, check his texts, and glug down a few mouthfuls of the laced H2O. Perfect.

I didn’t bother staying till the end of practice. Based on the first experience, I knew it would likely take a couple days before there were signs the drug had worked its magic. That didn’t mean I couldn’t do some reconnaissance. Peddling past Richie’s house, I did a quick assessment and was disappointed to find the windows seem to have shutters that would make spying from the outside very difficult. I needed to find another way.

The electronic store provided the most options, so I spent an hour formulating a plan while cruising the aisles. The cheapest device I could find that suited my purposes was a USB sized voice transmitter that could be concealed in clothing.

When I got home, I linked the listening gadget to my phone and left it in the kitchen. Sure enough, I was able to hear my mom as she unloaded the dishwasher and talked to my father about dinner.

I was quickly distracted by the return of Brent’s mother. She was wearing the same outfit from earlier, white crop and pencil skirt. She walked through her room into the bathroom and closed the door.

My penis twitched as she strolled out naked, but for the white towel wrapped around her drying hair and stood in front of the vanity mirror. She stuck out her prim ass and slid her hands under her pillowy, round breasts, striking a Kardashian-esque pose. Her MILF-ish body gleamed exquisitely as she absentmindedly inspected herself. From the dresser she squirted some moisturizer into her palm. She leaned and squinted, applying the product unto the delicate skin around her eyes with the tip of her index finger. I was aroused watching how much care she put into just her face when the rest of her was so bewitching. When she was done, she wiped her hands down her breasts and stomach. Her nails hovered and skimmed lightly over her belly. She bit her bottom lip. My eyes couldn’t help but descend to the inviting V between her long legs.

Strutting to the closet, she retrieved a raspberry colored strapless dress and returned to the bathroom. When she exits, I can’t help but regard the evolution of the woman who I’d watched fight with her son in their car leaving school. That woman had seemed worried, nervous, and modest. A work-oriented, conflicted mother who had no time for indulgences. This was not the same person. Everything about Mrs. Young was screaming to be noticed, to entice and tease the new man of the house. With her wet hair combed behind her ears she applied a fresh coat of bright red lip gloss to her angelic face. Her eyebrows tighten as she squeezed them together and pouts her lips. She was the hypersexualized dream of any teenage boy. A bold, promiscuous...

“Dinners getting cold.” My father yelled rapping on the door.

I shuddered and center my hard cock underneath my belt as I rush to the family room.

-----------------

I get to school early and lingered near the parking lot to scout out Richie. I wonder whether he’ll even be in school. My question is answered when his truck pulled up and parked a minute later.

“You’re such a dick!” Misty popped out and slammed the door. She shot Richie a sneer full of scalding teenage angst.

“I’m just saying you’d be more popular if you did!” Richie yelled.

Misty pulled her hoodie up and stomped off in her heavy boots, ignoring him.

I watched Richie run up to some friends and head to class. Nothing out of the ordinary. The day passed at a snail’s pace. I kept fiddling with the voice transmitter in my pocket. When the bell for lunch finally rang, I scuttled down the hall and cut off Brent before he could join his entourage.

“I need you to borrow Richie’s letterman jacket.”

“The fuck?” Brent did a horrible job holding back his anger.

“Do it now. Or you don’t want to know what happens. Bring it here when you’ve got it.” I threatened.

Brent gritted his fists and stalked past me. That’s a good dog.