Roberta regarded her small, intimate audience with a warm smile and a conductor’s wave. Increasingly, this week-to-week confessional before the parents and guardians of shrunken delinquents was becoming her show, and she knew it. Though never verbally acknowledged, the changes were noticeable.
Where once there was first a voluntary option to share when everyone was seated and settled, by now, it was assumed amongst the group that Roberta and Kyle would take their turn first. And frankly, the woman didn’t envy the rest of them the task of following the first act, because more often than not, this mother and son team had their share of titillating anecdotes to relate from the past week.
Today, the effect was more pronounced than ever, as no sooner had the bespectacled group leader golf-clapped everyone to attention, every single pair of eyes in the room, both normal and shrunken, was directed to Roberta’s casually reclined form in the chair: enthusiastic interest from the parents, and flinching anxiety from the teens.
Just to get the crowd warmed up, Roberta eased deeper into her seat. The hinged legs creaked and groaned as she purposefully twisted her rump into the undersized cushion. Then, with just a single pat on her outer thigh for good measure, she folded her hands in her lap and batted her eyes.
“Sorry about that. Just wanted to make sure Kyle was good and settled,” Roberta declared. She was met with nods of approval from the parents. “You know the drill. A time-out is a time-out, after all. As usual, I made sure to note any… comments he has, for the benefit of the group, before he was put in his place. Which is to say, he didn’t have many.”
“That sounds just fine, Roberta,” the instructor said with her normal ring of cheer. She thumbed the edges of her clipboard. “So there’s been some disciplinary action taking place under your roof this week, I presume.”
“You could say that, yes.”
If she was being honest with herself, though, Roberta realized only now that Kyle hadn’t technically done anything wrong before she shoved him up between her cheeks this afternoon. Her judging process had certainly shifted in the last several weeks, punishing increasingly minor infractions. However, today, the boy was actually clean; he’d even been polite all morning and done exactly as she asked. Yet she still found an excuse, right before they headed out the door to make their way to the facility, to drop her pants and caress Kyle up her inner thigh before jamming him into the valley of her ample ass.
At the core of it, she knew perfectly well that she did it purely because she enjoyed the feeling of his muscular, squirming little body hugged up against her soft butthole.
No matter. Who said a crime had to fit exactly with the punishment, one-to-one? This wasn’t the American judicial system. He had an entire backlog of adolescent wrongs clogging up the history of their relationship. The way Roberta saw it, she wasn’t just answering his choices with consequence, but taking an active role in his re-education. Thus, she was in the right to choose when, where, how, and why he was reprimanded.
“Well then,” said the instructor. “Why don’t you just give us the rundown of your week, Roberta?”
“Oh, I’m sure you all could rattle it off for me at this point. Baby steps, but a great deal of treading water, if you will. As close as Kyle and I have grown, he still has a lot to learn about being the man of the house. Try as I might to make him one, he resists.”
“How?” one other mother in the circle chimed in.
“I was having a little drink, just the other night… as I’m sure we all do from time to time, what with the added stress of being teachers as well as parents. Well, maybe more than a little drink, but I’m a big girl, and I can hold my own. I was hoping Kyle might be receptive to some proper instruction on the birds and the bees, shall we say. Uncomfortable or not for him, I feel it’s my duty to make sure he’s set free back into the world after all this with a conscientious mind and a gentlemanly approach to all his future relationships. Surely I’m not alone in that feeling?”
Murmurs of concurrence rang out from the circle. Most of the parents leaned further forward in their chairs to listen.
“God love my boy, but he can be… well, a little selfish sometimes, when it comes to recognizing the needs of others. Especially the needs of the woman taking care of his every need during these months,” Roberta continued. She clenched her buttocks in tighter, feeling the sweat-glazed cellulite bunching comfortably around Kyle’s crumpled form; she tried not to let her grin spread too wide. Gazing around the room full of women with their wide-eyed fascination and cheerful air of solidarity, it finally occurred to Roberta just how free she was in this group. “And to be frank, he’s of a certain… size, which could be useful for more than the ways he’s making use of himself now around the house, if you understand me.”
More nodding. The circle of shrunken teens in the hands of their mothers, aunts, and sisters looked positively petrified.
“Sure, I can make do… cucumbers, my favorite pink toy, especially, but in my mind, it’s simply never the same as connecting with a real person, just as I think Kyle, my sweet little virgin boy, at the ripe age of eighteen, no less, has to experience in order to truly make strides forward,” Roberta continued with relish. Her thumb played at the corner of her lip. “So I was raring to get teaching with him, and what did he do? The adorable little runt just ran for it! From me! The woman he should be thanking, above all else, with his cooperation! I tell you, I don’t often get angry, but it certainly inspires something inside you to be treated with such a lack of appreciation.”
Roberta paused to catch her breath, noting the stirring in her loins merely from recalling the sexual insanity of that evening, not to mention the ripple of goosebumps over the globe of her ass. She could see she had all of them now, absolutely, in the palm of her hand. Every woman was either nodding vigorously or shaking their head in disbelief at Kyle’s insensitivity. Never before had Roberta felt quite so accepted and understood as she did in this circle, at this precise instant, telling a story about chasing down her son to insert him inside her womanhood. What a world it was.
“But I’ll tell you what,” she said quietly. “Maybe next time, he just won’t have the opportunity to run. And then we’ll see who’s appreciating who after that.”
Miraculously, one of the women beside Roberta began a slow clap. Within a second, then, the entire room of normal-sized guardians were applauding. The instructor, even, beamed with pride and clapped as well.
Roberta set her upper lip hard, her brow furrowed with determination and newfound zeal. While she may not have even been certain of where she was headed with that story when she began, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind now that she had the support and faith of everyone present on the conclusion of her tale. And that was all she needed.
The Lawrence household was silent as the grave and, in Kyle’s mind, roughly as inviting.
Roberta’s dining room table was strewn with the remains of their latest dinner date, including trays of half-empty chicken, potatoes, and broccoli, most of it eaten by the mother, while the son picked sickeningly at the scraps of meal given to him, trying not to look up and fill his field of view with the slumped masses of his parent’s tits. Now, though, he would’ve given anything to have the opportunity again to shovel in some food. Anything to avoid what was happening now.
In hindsight, he should’ve predicted something different was going to take place tonight. When Roberta appeared at the top of the stairs in her ill-fitted black leather corset top and tall thigh boots, looking like a low-rent dominatrix with all the confidence of a high-rent dominatrix, it might have tipped Kyle off that she was in a very particular kind of mood. Plus there was the fact she was wearing no underwear, a fact he was only made aware of when she sat down to dinner at last, when he could hear the squish of her vaginal lips. Still, a shield of denial allowed him to hope that she was merely trying to find new ways to make him supremely uncomfortable.
Now, though, that dream of idleness was shattered. Because Roberta, completely sober and coherent, had Kyle pinned to her palm with her meaty fingers and was jacking his wilted member between her clammy thumb and forefinger.
“There’s a good boy,” Roberta encouraged softly. The velvety grooves of her fingers glided in a gentle rhythm along her son’s miniature shaft, which was regrettably springing to life after so much stimulation; the opposite thumb, meanwhile, kept him splayed on her opened hand. “Do you want to cum for Mommy? Is that what you’d like?”
Kyle’s face burned pink, nearly matching the crimson hue of the lipstick stains painted across most of his body, but especially his face and crotch; his hair was sopped and itching with leftover saliva from the last slobbery make-out. There was no pretense any longer, it seemed. No lies about lessons to learn or personal improvements to make. She had strapped his arms to his sides with rubber bands, with an additional binding keeping his hands cuffed behind his back. And his mother, for her part of this disgusting farce, was dressed in a poorly cut S&M uniform and gazing at him with dreamily wide hazel eyes as she forcibly masturbated him: not out of some twisted sense of logic for his development, but because she enjoyed it. He knew that now. His stomach churned as he blearily scanned the length of his mother’s torso bulging out of the leather corset. Her left breast, especially, was making an impressive effort to escape. The dark upper ring of her nipple poked earnestly over the upper cut.
He bit his tongue, hoping to slow the progress of his erection. It was failing.
“C’mon, hon. I know you want to show Mommy what you’re made of, after all that bragging I did about you and how you’re going to be the man of this house. You can’t even be the man of my hand yet, can you? Well, we’re going to fix that, if you’ll just relax, and let me show you how to have a little fun.”