“Yes, Mother.”
* * *
I step outside into a sunny afternoon. My eyes squint against the bright light. I hadn’t realized how dark it was in the house.
Rather than waste time walking down the long driveway and taking the road toward the neighbor’s house, I cut across the fields. The grass is tall and tickles my fingertips as my arms sway back and forth.
When I was growing up, only the yard in front of the house was ever kept mowed and manicured. The fields around and to the sides were allowed to grow wild.
I remember playing hide and seek in the field when the grass was tall. It was fun to see if you could army crawl far away from the seeker without getting caught.
No one was playing hide and seek with me, but I was still practicing my army crawl through the grass when I found them that day.
I stop and shake my head, realizing I had completely blocked that from my memory for the past couple of years. It’s only beginning to come back to me now. A shiver chills my skin despite the bright, warm orb overhead.
After that day, I didn’t play in the tall grass with anyone else, but I did often go by myself. Part of me hoped it would happen again. And I couldn’t go more than a few feet into the field without getting a raging erection.
The reality of just how often I masturbated as a child and teenager smacks me like a brick to the face, making my cheeks burn. The field, the foyer, the study, the laundry room: everything, everywhere made me so throbbing hard. On an average day, I would yank myself three to four times just to be able to see straight. It was always necessary at night if I wanted to sleep.
There were many times when I was convinced I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to do it anymore. The shame was too much. I was out of control.
Each time I reached this point of resolve, I ended up a bawling mess of snot and tears. I would curl up to rock myself back and forth, hiding away in a corner somewhere while my crotch blazed with a fiery agony that couldn’t be put out until I gave in.
Each time I gave in, I vowed it would be the last. I spent hours on the computers at school searching for ways to get rid of unwanted erections and what to do about blue balls. There was a wealth of information, but none of it worked.
I tried distractions. Think of something funny; think of something weird; think of something gross; think of your grandmother. My mother looked way too much like her mother for that last one to ever have a chance.
I tried exercise. Take a walk; lift weights; go to the bathroom; do jumping jacks; flex a muscle.
Not helpful.
Cold compresses, warm compresses, ice cubes, wait it out. Tried it.
The only relief was through release. Shameful, tearful release because all the visions in my head when I was pulling my prick were of my mother with Her eyes. The most disturbing image was the time I saw her in the field.
I was down on my belly moving slowly and silently through the grass when I heard the grunting. I recognized my mother’s sounds of desire and pleasure immediately, but the second’s were absolutely not my father’s.
The noises called to me. I needed to see even though I knew it was just going to add to my embarrassing collection of depraved images to debase myself with.
As quiet as a snake, I crawled my way towards the gasps and grunts on my belly and elbows. They grew louder as I got closer. My small, pre-teen erection hurt from the pressure of my body pressing and scraping it against the ground.
Gradually, I began to see skin through the blades of green that shielded my eyes. I pressed ahead just a little. Legs began to come into focus.
I scrubbed my eyes, unwilling to believe what they were telling me. I soundlessly crept just a tiny bit forward.
My mother was sitting up, straddling and grinding on hips, one of her soft, smooth legs visible on this side of the form on the ground. The hips and legs between hers were covered in a dark brown, solid coat of fur like an animal. What sort of weird pants were those?
Recognition punched me in the gut as my eyes traveled all the way down to find the feet. They were hooves like a horse.
I gasped, unable to hide my surprise.
They both turned to look at me - my mother and the thing. I noticed her bare breasts, flushed cheeks, sly smile, and knowing eyes, but only for a moment. I must look at him. He grinned back from a handsome human face beneath the two thick ram horns that sprouted from the top of his forehead.
I climb through the simple three-strand barbed wire fence that separates the neighbor’s field from the land my parents owned. The field appears empty. At one point the neighbor raised cows, but I don’t see anything now.
As I get closer, I can make out a Cocker Spaniel lying on the porch. I pray I can complete this mission without anyone in their house seeing me. From the edge of their lawn, I stop and let out a little whistle.
The dog lifts its head and looks in my direction. I whistle again. It gets up and begins trotting toward me with delight. I keep whistling.
The dog wags its tail as it approaches me. I bend down and make little clicking noises with my tongue to encourage it to keep coming. The little fucker walks all the way up to me, not an ounce of fear present. I pet it for a moment, really ruffle its fur and scrub its body. It rolls over and shows me its belly.
“Who’s a good dog?” I scoop it up and continue to pet it as I carry it home.
Its tongue lolls as it tries to cool down from the heat of the sun.
“Who’s a dumb dog?” I ask as we enter the house, and I close the door behind us. I set the dog down and strip off my clothes as Mother had…asked? Demanded? Commanded? Whatever it was, I aim to make her happy.
The dog sniffs around the foyer while I undress and fold my clothes neatly by the door that leads downstairs to Meisha and Johnny. My instincts tell me my nakedness is for Mother alone now. She will have me dress when I go visit them next.
I expect Meisha will settle in down there shortly. The nursery Mother put together for them is really quite wonderful. As she sees Johnny enjoying all the toys, she’ll be content.
Once I’m in my birthday suit, I snatch up the dog and trot down the hallway calling out, “Mother.” My mouth is suddenly so thirsty. How long have I been without one of her cordials?
My body trembles from withdrawal. Or is that just the chill of being naked? Either way, I have pressing needs. My nether member leads the way, knowing I have just acquired something Mother needs. There will be rewards in store for me.
“In here, John.”
I follow the voice into the kitchen. Over her rockabilly dress, Mother wears a black apron with little red devil horns on it.
