A Vampirella Classic Story: A Mother's Burden
Richard looked up from his homework as he heard his mother's voice calling from the living room. "Ya, Mom?"
"Could you come in here please."
"I'm kinda doing my homework," Rich shouted back.
"Now, please ... I need to talk to you!"
"Oh all right," he mumbled dejected to himself. Closing his book he trudged down the hall. Richard was a boy of slight build. His tousled black hair gave him a whimsical look no matter how much his mother tried to comb it. She claimed he acted like his father more often than not, which for Richard’s mother was not a compliment since Richard-Senior had left her to fend for herself early on. Richard had been in the process of studying for a final for Mr. Benzinger’s Consumer Math class. He thought of the class as "drool-cup math" since all of the dullards were taking it. All of his friends were already in pre-algebra but Richard couldn’t seem to get past Consumer no matter how hard he studied. Math just wasn't his thing. 8th grade was harder than he had anticipated and his grades were showing it.
When Richard entered the room his mother was sitting with her legs primly crossed at the knee, holding the remote to the VCR. She'd obviously just returned from work and was still wearing her skirt, blouse, and heels. The gray suit jacket that matched the skirt was slung over the arm of the couch on which she sat. She wore a concerned look that immediately put Richard on the edge. His mind sought for something bad he had done recently that she might have found out about.
Richard’s mom was in her early thirties and according to Richard’s best friend Ted was a "hottie". That never failed to creep Richard out every time Ted would say such things. Ted went so far as to show Richard a picture from a Playboy … claiming the big busted, voluptuous, full bottomed girl in the centerfold was the spitting image of his mom. Ted earned a punch in the shoulder for that one. For the next week, Richard couldn’t stop himself from picturing that centerfold with his mother’s face on it every time he would see her getting out of the shower or getting dressed in the morning for work. It was a total gross out as far as Richard was concerned. Now, thoughts of Ted and centerfolds were far from Richard’s mind. He couldn’t conceive of a single thing he had done to earn such a stern look from his mother.
"Take a seat."
Richard eased himself into the lazy-boy next to the couch.
"I'd like you to watch something." Richard looked on as his mother raised the remote and pressed play. A fuzzy image appeared on the screen and it took Richard a moment to realize he was looking at the living room and the chair he was sitting in. In the chair lay his babysitter, Sara, sound asleep. Richard’s eyes darted to the bookcase oposite the lazy-boy but could see no camera. Then he spotted a large blue binder on the shelf that he had never noticed before. There was a black hole in its side and he instantly knew this is where the hidden camera was.
"This is from a few weekends ago." His mother's voice caused Richard to jump. "I had a suspicion that Sara was getting into my liquor. I set the camera up to make sure I wasn't being paranoid. Not soon after you went to bed she sat in the chair to drink my booze and watch TV. After talking on the phone for a good long time she finally feel asleep as you can see."
Richard's face turned a dark crimson as he recalled with dawning horror what would appear next on the screen. Sure enough Richard watched himself creep into the living room, peer for awhile at the sleeping form of his babysitter and then creep forward on hands and knees. Richard wanted to run to his room and hide under the bed but for some reason he couldn't get his body to respond and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the screen. His heart was beating so fast and loud he could swear his mother would hear it.
On the video: Richard had now reached the foot of the chair. Stealing another look at Sara to make sure she was still asleep, Richard then cautiously picked up one of her high-top tennis shoes and lifted it to his nose. There was no audio on the tape but it was more than obvious that he was sniffing the shoe. After inspected both shoes with his nose he began to pull down the top of his sweatpants. His erection was quit visible as he pulled it out. Richard sunk deeper into his chair as his mother cleared her throat in an uncomfortable manner.
Richard knew the worst was yet to come. As soon as he had his penis in hand he lifted himself up to begin sniffing at Sara's defenseless bare feet. His nose hovered mere centimeters from her soles as he sniffed and masturbated. Again Richard heard his mother clear her throat and he began to squirm in the chair wishing he could shrink into non-existence. He felt like an animal caught in some insidious trap.
Here came the grand finale! Richard now had his nose brazenly buried in the toes of his passed out babysitter. He slid his face down the length of her sole to her heel obviously sniffing the entire way. His nose then returned to sniff between the short, chubby toes. His body then began to shake. In an instant his orgasm hit and he was cumming in Sara's shoes. Richard watched himself perform on the tape and felt his belly doing flip-flops.
Soon the painful scene came to a close as he crept out of the room leaving the sleeping girl totally unaware of what had just transpired. The screen went blank as his mother hit stop on the remote. The long stretch of silence that followed was the worst part. Richard stared helpless at the blank TV screen unable to believe what had just happened. His mother again cleared her throat, but Richard was still unable to look at her of ever turn his head one way or the other.
"Obviously we have some things to discuss," she ventured.
Richard tried to work some spit back into his dry mouth but was unsuccessful. A whisper of a croak was his only response.
"Richard … Richard! Look at me when I talk to you!"
Richard slowly turned to face his mother. Her disapproving look was like an ice pick in his chest.
"I wanted you to see this first so we didn’t have to go through a denial session. We both know what happened so now we have to do something about it. This is not healthy behavior, Richard. What you are doing on that video tape is sick. Its sick and perverted. Do you agree?"
Richard hung his head and remained silent. His mother took his lack of an answer for an agreement.
"Good … I’m glad we have that settled," Richard’s mom adjusted her skirt as she continued, "I’ve had a few weeks to think this over since I first saw the video. I’ve done a bit of research and I think there is still hope for you. There’s still a chance to get over this perversion you seem to have developed. The first step was firing Sara, you won’t be seeing her again anytime soon."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Richard couldn’t help but experience a pang of regret at losing his babysitter. Sara had been Richard’s favorite sitter. He’d been interested in the smell of feet for as long as he could remembered and the footwear of his various babysitters’ had always been an outlet for him. Sara was his favorite. Not because she was nice of let him stay up late and eat ice cream it was simply because of her drinking. Her tendency to pass out gave Richard his first experiences with true footsmelling. In fact, he’d had his first orgasm while smelling her feet. Now those feet were gone … and not only that but his mother of all people knew about his fixation!
"Richard, are you listening to me?!"
"Yes mother," Richard mumbled.
"As I was saying, I’ve done a bit of research. There’s a book I have here written by a board of therapists from Littlerock Institute. There’s a chapter detailing the persuasive power of negative correlation. It seemed a bit extreme at first, but when I considered the probability of you growing up with this handicap, and suffering from it into your adult life, I finally came to the conclusion that any chance was a good one. I just want you to know that I am here to help you. We have a bit of work to do and I think we should get started right away. The sooner the better … don’t you agree?"
Again Richard could only answer in silence. His fascination for feet and his latter graduation to the obsession of stinky feet was something Richard had kept a dark secret. He’d never told a soul … not even his best friend Ted. He still couldn’t believe that his mother now knew and that she was sitting here discussing it with him as if he had some fearful disease.
"Your condition is known in the psychiatric field as a fetish. A fetish is an unhealthy obsession with an inanimate object or pastime. Fetishes, in my opinion are not for normal people! I can see no hope in you growing up to have a healthy relationship if you continue on like this. I see nothing wrong with you looking or thinking about girls; though I still feel you are too young to entertain such thoughts. But the idea of you wanting to sniff their filthy feet is abnormal to say the least! Am I making myself clear?!"
Richard mumbled something inarticulate.
"Now, before we go any further, I need to ask you a question and I don’t want any lies. You know I can tell when you lie to me. I want the truth … understood?"
"Yes mame," Richard knew his mother had an uncanny ability to ferret our his untruths.
"Do you …. do you smell my shoes?"
"God no … gross!" Richard yelped in totally honesty. The thought of smelling his mother’s shoes had never crossed his mind. Just the idea made him cringe with revulsion. How could she ask such a thing! Yuck!
"Good," she sighed with obvious relief.
"Now from watching the tape I see that you’ve become rather comfortable with this sick little thing. You need to learn that this is not the kind of desire to be taken lightly. You need to see it as a gross little obsession! Just the idea makes my stomach turn as it should for you. Do you understand? Now … please come over here and take a seat on the floor … we need to have a talk and I don’t like you staring at the TV when I’m trying to have a conversation with you!"
Richard slowly lifted himself from the chair on shaky legs. He marveled at the fact that his mother always called it a "conversation" when she was giving a speech. Sheepishly he closed the space between himself and his mother, taking a seat on the floor as had been requested.
"Now … take off all of you clothes and fold them neatly."
Richard stared at his mother as if Martian were flying out of her ears.
"Don’t make me repeat myself, Mister!"
"What for … ?"
"Are you embarrassed? Good! Do as I say!"
Richard began to disrobe with great reluctance until he was sitting in his underwear.
"Everything … underpants too."
"DO IT … and no sass!"
Then his nudity was complete. Richard had been pantsed in Gym class once. For the reader unfamiliar with this desperately mature ritual … it consists of a bully yanking down the pants and underwear of a hapless victim exposing his or her genitalia for all to see. Gordy Donney had chosen Richard for this dubious honor one afternoon during third period basketball. Even then, he had felt less exposed as he did now … sitting striped before his own mother. His hands instinctively went to cover his penis.
"Take your hands away! Put them by your sides and keep them there!" The sharpness of his mother’s voice caused Richard to jump and do as he was bade instantaneously. When Richard’s mother grew this intense she was not a woman to be trifled with.
"Now, Richard. I’m going to have you smell my feet."
Richard immediately cringed and groaned in disgust and disbelief.
"Sniffing feet doesn’t sound so good now does it! Too bad!"
Richard watched in numb terror as his mother reached down and slipped off one of her black leather heels. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed. Her nose immediately wrinkled in disgust. "Yeach … how horrible!" She then removed the other shoe and dropped both to the floor. They landed with a dull thump on the plush carpet. Locking her hands beneath her knees for support, she extended the soles of her feet towards Richard’s face.
He’d never noticed how large his mother’s feet were until they were this close to his face. From chubby toe to rounded heel they easily matched the size of Richard’s head from chin to crown. He could see sweat glistening on the soles of her tan nylons and his face twisted in a grimace. He concentrated on breathing through his mouth as the sweaty, nylon clad feet of his mother filled his vision. As they moved closer still he could feel the heat pouring from her soles as if they were twin suns.
"Now this is for your own good … smell them!"
"Uh-uh," Richard resisted in a nasal sounding voice, "Uh-uh!"
"Do it now, mister!"
The stalemate had been reached. The feet hovered before him like evil apparitions. They drew closer and closer until the tip of his nose brushed against the fabric of her stockinged soles. Richard’s eyes began to tear up … not from fear … from the fumes. His eyes had never done this when he’d smelled Sara’s feet … what was happening?!
"You want a spanking? You’re not too old for me to turn you over my knee … you want the belt? Sniff, dammit!"
Richard hadn’t heard his mother this angry since he had nearly burnt down the garage with a haphazard chemistry experiment involving a two gallon jug of gasoline and a fire cracker. She was dead serious … he could tell … and it made him feel helpless as a three year old. He decided he’d rather be sitting in the burning garage again than here with those awful feet closing in on him.
"Smell my feet NOW!"
Richard, with his watering eyes bugging out, took a loud sniff of his mother’s feet. Mid sniff, he nearly catapulted himself across the room.
"OH MY GOD!" he yelped in utter dismay.
"Get back over here and smell my feet!"
"I can’t," Richard pleaded … now tearing up in earnest, "they smell too awful!" It wasn’t just the fact that he had sniffed the feet of his own mother, though that played a part in the overall humiliation of the thing, it was the wretched stink! Sara’s feet had never smelled so completely rank. Sara’s feet had always been a light mixture of perfume and foot sweat … occasionally stronger on the foot sweat … but nothing like this. In fact Richard had never smelled feet so stinky! The stench was like nothing he had expected. Sniffing Sara’s feet, his mind had made allusions to buttery popcorn, corn chips, vinegar and so on … but he could find nothing in his sniffing experience to compare with the harsh, acrid reek of his mother’s fleshy stinkers. They were beyond reason!
"I haven’t washed them in over a week and I’ve been wearing the same stockings day in and day out … not to mention that fact that I’ve been sleeping in my filthy gym socks. I’ve been preparing for this since I read the book. I’ve made them as stinky as I could stand … all for you sweetie … aren’t you happy with them?"
"God no! They’re horrible!"
"Exactly … now get your butt back over here and smell them again! Smell my feet! I want you to smell them until you can’t smell them anymore! You’re gonna do it till you pass out from the stink!"
Richard began to squirm backward on the carpet until he bumped into the entertainment center. A lone CD case came crashing down on his head from impact. Briefly startled by the tumbling projectile, Richard failed to see his mother jump from the couch until it was too late. Grabbing both of his ankles she roughly dragged him across the carpet. Richard’s torso feel back until he lay flat on the floor staring up at his mother who now appeared to be twenty feet tall.
"Now take your medicine like a good little boy or I’ll make you smell those crusty gym socks too! Hell, I may even make you suck them clean … you’d like that wouldn’t you!" Richards cheeks puckered just thinking of such a horrible punishment. Her right foot left the carpet and quickly descended on his face. She lightly pressed her sole down until Richard’s nose was nestled into the hollow beneath her toes. "Now smell … " she said menacingly.
Richard sniffed and began a coughing fit. "Again!" his mother commanded, "Sniff again!" Richard sniffed again and felt his throat close up. The stench was too much! He couldn’t bare it! After sniffing her shoe his mother had said "horrible" and she was right!
Unconsciously Richard’s hands had once again moved to cover his penis and testicles, and true to form, nothing escaped his mother’s notice. "I said, hands at you sides. Keep that little penis of yours visible! You like to play with it so much why don’t you want to show it to your mommy? Are you embarrassed? Keep sniffing! You like my stinky feet? Its all for you sweetie. All that wonderful foot stink just for you and your little nose. Sniff dammit sniff!"
Richard couldn’t take anymore. He was mortified beyond belief. He would have told his mother he would never smell feet again if he’d thought she would have listened to him. He sniffed again and again. Now only five sniffs into her feet and he was beaten. He couldn’t handle another sniff. It just wasn’t possible. He couldn’t keep smelling the foul things … he’d die for sure! He had to get away!
Richard tried to roll to the side but his mother stomped on his chest and pressed down firmly. The air rushed from his lungs in a dry whooshing sound. Richard began to wheeze with the weight of his mother on his chest.
"You’re making this very difficult! You don’t have a choice in the matter … you are going to smell my feet until I tell you to stop … do you understand me!" Richard didn’t care what she said, he had to get away from those powerful smelling stink machines. He continued to fight and thrash.
"All right them, mister, have it your way!" Finally her foot was gone from his chest and Richard gasped in the much needed air. There was a slight hint of her foot aroma permeating in the room and tainted his air, but it was better than smelling them up close.
Thinking he was finally free and the torture ended, Richard closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to relax hoping to get a hold of his speeding heart rate. He heard his mother’s feet thumping on the floor as she left the room in a huff. As he finally attained a modicum of composure the humiliation began to fully sink in. Not only had he been forced to sit with his mother and endure the spectacle of himself smelling the babysitters feet he’d also been treated to the unwholesome experience of smelling his own mother’s horrible, filthy feet. Richard was mortified to say the vary least. How could he look at his mother again? How could he look at himself in the mirror again!
Finally Richard slowly opened his eyes. Immediately seeing that his mother had returned silently, he was forced to realize that his assumption of safety couldn’t have been more wrong. In the respite Richard had allowed his mother, she had not only removed her tan pantyhose and had them dangling from her hand, but had fetched what looked to be a zip-lock baggie with something tucked inside. She quickly crossed the room and stood above him straddling his chest. Too Richard’s utter revulsion he caught a glimpse of her vagina from beneath her skirt. He quickly averted his eyes but the vision of her pink lips was burned into his retinas. Before Richard had turned his head he had also noticed that she clutched both of her leather heels in her other hand. He wondered in dismay what new devilry she was about to commit.
"If you want to do this the hard way, I’ll oblige you, Richard!" With that promise she promptly sat down with her full weight on his pelvis whilst simultaneously pining his hands to his sides with her knees. The coarse fabric of her skirt rubbed roughly on Richard’s exposed penis. Leaning slightly forward she pressed the opening of one of her closed-toed, high heeled shoes over his nose. As Richard opened his mouth to gasp in unscented air, he felt the pantyhose crammed in. His tongue tasted the salty tang of the crusty things and he struggled to spit them out, but his mother only jammed them deeper until he was at the risk of choking.
His first sniff of the swampy interior of his mother’s shoe was no more pleasant than her feet. They of course reeked with the monstrous aroma of her foul foot stench but the added odor of the sweat saturated leather brought new wrinkles of disgust to Richard’s face. Richard closed his eyes tightly unable to meet his mother’s stern face. She traded the shoes back and forth, allowing him to sample each in turn as if it made a difference. She spoke to him as if he were a connoisseur of stinky feet. "There … how’s that one … better? Or do you prefer the right shoe? No … maybe it was the left one. Yes that’s it. That’s the really stinky one … I can tell by your face. Get a good sniff … don’t worry you little sicko, there’s plenty more where that came from."
Finally relinquishing her shoe assault she placed each shoe on either side of Richard’s head. "You thought that was bad, mister, try these." Richard heard the plastic crinkle of the zip-lock bag which he had forgotten about until now. As he opened his eyes he was treated to the view of her blackened and yellowish gym socks descending upon his helpless nose. She firmly pressed the toe-ends of the socks, which had been turned inside out for his sniffing torture, under his flaring nostrils. The material was stiff and crusted with dried, sweaty foot funk. The smell was revoltingly similar to rotten eggs and sulfur with a hint of musty canvas.
"Sniff those good … that’s the smell of my dirty feet at the gym … a whole week’s worth. Remember I’ve been sleeping in these too. Nice huh? My feet sure sweat something fierce when I work out. Especially in aerobics class. I don’t think anything makes my feet quite so stinky as the gym. Aren’t they wonderful? Keep smelling dammit! Oh ya, I forgot to mention, I borrowed these socks from you sister’s dirty clothing hamper. They already reeked something horrible from her drill team practices. So not only are you smelling my stinky gym feet, Richard, you’re also sniffing your sister’s stinkers too! Kind of a family amalgamation of footstink. Pretty cool, huh, sweetie?" His mother seemed quite pleased with herself.
The sock smelling continued for the next twenty minutes until Richard was sure he was going to pass out. Visions of his sister’s sweaty feet swam in his head. Her long, pudgy toes curling around his nose. Her yellowish soles rubbing over his face. Richard hated his older sister and the idea of being forced to smell her feet as well was almost beyond enduring. Finally the sock torture ended and Richard was more than grateful for the respite.
"Good, it looks as if those had the desired effect. You seem a bit more docile now my dear … now on with medicine. Are you ready for this?" Before waiting for a reply, she scooted herself around until she was balanced, then lifted both feet from the floor and plaster them to Richard’s face. Richard had temporally forgotten she had removed her pantyhose. The shock of the bare skin of her sweaty soles pressing against his face caused him to gasp in surprise. Of course the gasp consisted of a sharp intake of air through his already tortured nostrils. The slimy, stinky feet of his mother pressed down on his face drowning Richard in their overwhelming, choking aroma. His nostrils flared with each humiliating sniff. His eyes were open, seeing only the hint of light through her toe cleavage. Her feet then moved up until he was plunged into total darkness. I didn’t seem possible, but he had begun to think the socks had smelled worse than her feet. Now sniffing her bare soles and toes he realized he couldn’t have been more wrong.
Richard began to panic. First he tried to push her off, but she simply grabbed his wrists and forced his arms to his sides and against the floor. Having lost the leverage of his hands, Richard attempted to dislodge her by thrusting his hips from the floor. No matter how hard he bucked, his mother somehow managed to remain atop him. Richard’s struggling final came to a dead stop when he felt something warm and fleshy on his penis. At first his mind refused to accept the truth, but he was soon forced to realize what his struggling had done. Her skirt had some how come up during his fight for freedom and now his mother’s vagina was pressing firmly, with her full body weight, against his limp member.
Now the feeling of being tramped was overwhelming. So much so that Richard’s entire body went ridged and he was unable to move. "That’s more like it," his mother cooed in a pleased tone, "be a good boy and smell mommy’s stinky feet. Smell them … that’s it."
Doesn’t she notice! Can’t she feel it! Richard’s humiliation deepened even further. In shock, he began to take deep, measured sniffs of her feet. His head began to swim. They were so stinky! How can she have such rank feet?! She said I had to do this until I passed out … if I smell them as hard as I can maybe I will pass out and she’ll let me go! Richard took the deepest sniff he could, drawing in as much of the rancid scent as was humanly possible. He did this again and again … hoping for salvation in oblivion. For twenty minutes the only sound was Richard’s deep inhalations as he suffered his mother’s feet. Soon it felt as if he was outside of himself. I must finally be passing out, Richard thought amidst the blurry haze, thank God! Soon a mantra began to repeat itself unbidden in his mind: Stinky Feet, Stinky Feet, Stinky Feet … this was the mantra that Richard would mentally incant when he sniffed Sara’s feet. It would always, for reasons unbeknownst to Richard, expediently urged him towards orgasm each and every time. For reasons beyond his control it had surfaced in his groggy mind against his will. It repeated over and over in time with his continued sniffs.
Then something brought him back to reality. He felt warmth. Tremendous warmth on his penis. His mother shifted her weight and Richard felt his member, now slick with his mother’s sweat and fluid, slide against the silkily folds of her vagina.
"Oh … " he heard her exclaim in fragile alarm. I guess she finally noticed, Richard thought, still in a partial haze. She’ll have to let me up now! I’m free! He tired to move, but his mother pressed down with her full weight and barked, "No you don’t mister, keep smelling my feet … we aren’t through by a long shot! I thought I’d lost you there for a minute but apparently we aren’t finished." She shifted again and his penis once more rubbed against the impossibly hot flesh of her vagina.
The cloying smell of his mother’s feet had totally claimed him now. The rank aroma had him in its thrall and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, the mantra of "Stinky Feet" continued to run on a loop in the back of his mind. Then the unthinkable began to happen. He felt his penis slowly becoming engorged with blood. His member began to stiffen despite his attempts to prevent it. He tried to shout "no" from behind the pantyhose gag, but it came out as a loud "Mmmphffff!"
Panic again seized Richard and he began to thrash about in a vain attempt to free himself from beneath the weight of his mother. He realized his mistake too late as his penis, sliding forcibly against his mother’s vaginal lips, grew to full erection. His final jolt nearly sent his mother sprawling, but by pressing down with her feet on his face she gained enough leverage to hoist herself back up.
As her ass slapped back down onto Richard’s pelvis, his now fully erect penis was waiting for her. She impaled herself on his cock. Richard felt his hardened penis slide effortlessly into her vagina.
"OH MY GOD!!!" she screamed, "NO, NO, NO, NO! These are your mother’s feet you are smelling! Your mother’s stinky, horrible, filthy, smelly, awful feet! Smell them dammit … smell your mother’s feet! You sick freak … how can you be aroused and hard! Smell your mother’s feet and be ashamed. Smell them smell them smell them!" Unconsciously she began to bounce up and down in her fervor and subsequently began fucking her son soundly. Soon realizing her plight she lifted her weight and Richard penis disengaged. Loosing balance she plopped down again with her back slightly arched. Sitting down with all her weight she felt his malevolent erection slip between her now sweaty ass cheeks and entered her anus with a pop.
"OWWW … GOD NO … OWWWW! DAMMIT!" Her mind was on the verge of snapping. She was now obsessed with her feet remaining on Richard’s face, forcing him to smell them. Her chaotic thoughts reasoned that if she let him go now it would all be for naught. "Dammit Richard! Smell those feet! Sniff your mother’s smelly feet! You’re sick! Perverted! Smell them … make yourself sick on my feet! Why won’t you be ashamed!"
Her ass cheeks were now so sweaty that she could barely stay on her son. Her hips slid back and forth consequently moving his penis in and out of her asshole in a repulsively sexual manner. She couldn’t think of a more horrible thing than having her own son’s erect penis deep in her rectum. But every time she tried to dislodge it she was in danger of moving her feet from his face. I was so close, I know I was. He was almost there and now this! I don’t understand!
Her mind flashed back to the chapter’s she had read in the Little Rock therapy book. Wasn’t this like some of the things suggested in the book? She moved her feet until her toes cupped his nose giving her a partial view of his face. The boy looked like he was gazing into the depths of hell itself. Its working, she thought with triumph! It must be just as horrible for him. Of course it is … who would want to have sexual relations with their mother. I can use this! She steeled herself for what would come next. This is for his own good, she reminded herself.
"Oh, ya … you like being in my ass, sweetie?" she couldn’t believe what she was saying, but the shocked look in his eyes told her she was on the right track, "You like smelling mommy’s stinky feet and being in her butt at the same time? Here, you like this?" she began to bounce up and down on his penis, enduring the discomfort of further punishment to her aching anus. His size was surprising, but then again, like father like son. The wicked thought had risen before she could stop it. A shudder of self loathing over came her briefly. She responded with bouncing harder, concentrating on the pain of having her ass roughly filled.
"Yes, yes, yes … fuck mommy’s butthole. Smell her feet! Oh it feels so good!" As soon as the words left her mouth she realize in horror that they were not far from the truth. She tried to concentrate on the pain again but found it to be slowly ebbing away being replaced by … what …. pleasure? It couldn’t be! GOD NO …ITS WRONG … WRONG BEYOND ANYTHING! THIS HAS TO STOP! But by then it was too late …
The mantra had continued in Richard’s mind: Stinky Feet, Stinky Feet, Stinky Feet … but now a new word crept in: Mother’s Stinky Feet, Mother’s Stinky Feet. He was quit aware of the different sensation of his penis leaving his mother’s warm wet vagina and entering her tight rectum. Her exclamation of pain and surprise had thrilled Richard in a dark sensual way he could barely comprehend. He was helpless to understand the feelings he was having. Images of Ted and the centerfold … Ted’s voice, "Dude, she a feakin’ hottie … she’s a hottie … a hottie …" then Ted began to say things he’d never said in life, "Dude, you’re in your mom’s ass … your doing your mom in the butt! Smell those feet, Richie … smell those feet and do your mom’s butthole! Ya dude, you the man!" Richard could hear the slap of the high-five that would natural follow such a jocular exchange … but soon realized it was the slapping of his mother’s sweaty ass cheeks on his hips.
Then the words had poured from his mother. She likes this … she actually likes this! Her sex-talk, as Ted would have put it, furthered Richard’s lust. Her commands, urging him on, was like setting a match to a lake of gasoline. He’d never been so hard in his life! The sexual excitement mixed incongruously with the humiliation creating a pocket of frenzied sexual exhilaration in Richard’s now unchained psyche. One last sniff of those wonderfully rancid feet and then it was all too much … Richard exploded deep in his mother’s chute.
She felt the warm liquid fill her rectum and felt her son shudder beneath her ass. Then the reality came crashing home. The last few moments she’d been struggling with that dark, inner voice, her body had responded instinctual. She knew that she had willing been bouncing on her son’s cock, pushing it deeper and faster into her anus … and for a second feeling absolute power of domination over him as he was forced to suffer her feet while she used his defenseless cock to pleasure her aching asshole.
The tears would not come. She wouldn’t allow it. Tears would mean guilt and she had to push this away. She had to rationalize the event for her own sanity. She’d always been good at rationalizing. Some would call it self mind-fucking … but she called it rationalization. This had not happened! Richard was the sick one not her! This was for his own good. Of course pushing it to this extreme was merely to humiliate him as the book had suggested. Scare the fetish out of him … Yes, that was it. That’s all it was …
She came to her senses sitting next to her son. She could feel his semen dripping from her asshole and pushed the feeling aside. Her eyes strayed to his now limp and glistening penis and then up to his face. The pair of pantyhose was still firmly planted in his gaping mouth, his cheeks and nose spotted with bits of foot grim and toe jam … the room smelling of her feet and their mutual fluids. Her leg was extended and her foot laying next to his face. She watched in stunned amazement as he slowly turned his head and began to sniff lazily at her sole. His penis jumped once, twice. Was it getting hard again?!
Roughly she yanked her foot away. "You disgust me Richard! Your perversion knows no bounds apparently. This is going to be harder than I thought." Richard looked at the dejected face of his mother in total confusion.
For the next number of years, until Richard moved out at the age of 19, he was subjected to his mother’s feet "for his own good". Each session she attempted to make her feet stinkier than the last in hopes of dissuading his fetish. The tell-tale sign, she said, was whether his penis would grow erect or not. A sign for which she would always watch like a hawk. These inevitable erections were treated to violent handjobs from his mother, in conjunction with verbal denouncements, until he came. As she slammed her tightened fist up and down the length of his throbbing penis she would inform him in no uncertain terms that he was a sick pervert and needed to be cured. The event would always end with her panting in near exhaustion asking if he was rightfully ashamed of himself. Of course he always replied with, "Yes, mame."
When he was sixteen, his mother went so far as to slip sleeping pills into his sister’s soda to facilitate yet another part of his treatment. After the girl had passed out Richard was forced to crawl on all fours, naked, to the couch on which his sister was laying. After his mother had removed her daughter’s shoes, she’d pushed Richard’s face into his sister’s rank soles forcing him to sniff. Soon his erection was evident, to which his mother promptly spit in her hand and administered what the Little Rock book referred to as "The Humiliation of The Maternal Handjob". On this night, she had suddenly felt inspired, and for the first time slipped a finger knuckle deep into Richard’s rectum. This had triggered an instantaneous orgasm. A trick she continued to use with much success throughout the remaining years.
In his adult life, Richard would constantly attempt to recreate these episodes with various woman, and later his wife, but to no great satisfaction. Though during the holidays, when Richard and family would return home to visit his mother, she would at some point take him aside and ask "are you all better now, Richard?" to which he would always reply, "no mother, unfortunately not yet."
"Well then son, come with me … lets get you out of those clothes …. Its been almost a month since I last washed them … maybe this time it will work."
A cure that’s just as wonderful as the disease, one could say…