Stepmother Knows Best
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Mother Knows Best free porn video
Mother Knows Best
By Gambler
Editing by Steve Zink
The moment to my wedding is finally just few minutes away; Mother must
have known how nervous I was. She called me on the cell phone, telling
me everything will be all right. She always told me that. But, I
still have my doubts. Especially since most of Mother's best intentions
usually went wrong. Not that things didn't 'work out', but -
***
My childhood wasn't a typical one, not with a mother that vowed to keep
her only child out of trouble at any cost. One summer, the neighborhood's
tough kids in a sort of loose gang once roughed me up when I was only
six years old, over some disputes over who won the street kick ball
game. When I went home that evening, my face was all bloody and my
shirt was all ripped to pieces. The leader of the tough kids
neighborhood gang, Ken, told me to never mention what happened to my
parents, or he would personally give me an hour long beating the next
day. The last thing I saw was Ken's dirty long hair that had mixed with
dirt and dust and sweat after a long day of play; it had gathered into a
ratty clump of hair. As he turned around and deciding to leave me to
my mostly naked body, his long dirty hair brushed passed my face and
managed to slap my face as a real palm would do.
My Mom did find out what had happened later that evening, and I told her
everything, even the threat of being beat up again by Ken the next day
if I leaked a word to her. That night, after cleaning up and getting
into a change of clothes, I was afraid to fall asleep, and then afraid
to open my eyes the next morning when the sun shined in my room. I
slowly got up, wishing I would never have to go out of my room in my
life again. But my mother was already yelling for me to get down for a
full ten course breakfast that my father and I had to finish before
heading for the front door.
If you think a ten course breakfast was any big deal, then you never
set foot in my home; full size eighteen course lunches and twenty-nine
course dinners were regular in my house, all cooked by my mother, and
had to be finished by the end of that certain meal. Now, you might
think the three of us must have looked like pigs with all the food we
ate. But surprisingly, my father, mother and myself were all very thin
and lean. Must be the great family genes, my mother always tells the
neighbors, and I half believed her since I have no other reason in my
head making sense to me.
On that morning, right after the big breakfast, I tried my best to stick
around the house, offering my assistance to my mother. But she saw
through me and managed to get me out the front door by 8:30am. I had my
eyes closed shut, and was half expecting to see all those tough kids
ready to punch me into dust right in front of my home. But it was a
fairly quiet morning, no sound of bicycles in the neighborhood with
baseball cards making those clicking sounds, no kids yelling for the
next pitch in their little baseball game, or kids just sitting on the
sidewalk curb, talking or trading news or baseball cards. It was all
quiet, too quiet.
I slowly opened my eyes, after such a long and quiet period of time that
I was blinded by the morning sunlight when I opened my eyes again. I
was still standing, my clothes were still in good shape, and I was still
in front of my home, not in pain, not upside down tied to a tree or even
dragged behind those kids' bicycles on the asphalt surfaced neighborhood
roads! I was still breathing! I was still standing! I was still alive!
But, it was too good to be true. I turned around, half expecting to see
those kids ready to put a hood over my head from behind and drag me to
their clubhouse few blocks away and hang me from their tree clubhouse
for the rest of the day. But it was quiet, no kids were hiding around
my house, nothing happened, nothing.
I went around to the other side of the house, yet nothing was happening
to me, nothing was happening at all. As I took my first step after such
a long time standing, I almost tripped over myself. I still could walk,
I told myself as the first step I took brought me back to the firm ground
of the driveway. Then I took my second step outside of my house that
morning, then the third, the fourth, then I stopped. I stopped because
I saw something that shouldn't have happened, couldn't have happened, or
should I say never in my wildest dreams or nightmares could have happened
at all.
The sight that set me frozen in my front yard was something neighbors
would only whisper about in the dead of night for the next twenty or so
years, only when they had nothing better to talk about, and always in
such hushed voices that they seemed afraid others in the neighborhood
would hear what they were talking about. As if talking about it would
bring very bad luck or curse their houses right afterward, or if the
damn curse would happen to them.
The unnatural sight I saw that moment was two houses down across the
quiet street, right in front Ken's house. Ken and his buddies were there,
all together sitting there in the front yard, talking, chatting, shouting,
yelling and smiling. Smiling and very happy, very happy to play dolls
and tea party!
My mouth dropped wide open; I rubbed my eyes with both of my hands
several times to make me believe what I was seeing in front of me. Those
tough kids were sitting there, playing among themselves with dolls and
having a tea party! Ken's long hair was brushed in the nicest way I
could remember; he was dressed all nicely, properly, with two nicely
done ponytails, in his older sister's Sunday Church clothing!
As I rubbed my eyes again, I realized all the other kids around Ken were
also wearing girl's clothing; some even had makeup on their faces, and
a few had what looked like a light coat of nail polish on their
fingernails. They were playing, chatting, talking and smiling, all like
good little girls should be.
Then I heard a few dishes drop to the ground, and my head turned in the
direction of the new noises. A mother of one of the tough kids was
speechless in her kitchen, as I saw through the front windows. As she
cried and ran out of the house to get her boy out of that dolls and tea
party affair, other women in the neighborhood heard the commotion and
went to the front doors of their own houses to see what was going on and
see if it could provide more neighborhood chatting and gossiping
material. But more dishes were dropped to the floor, and more mothers
ran out of their houses to drag their boys back to their houses, out of
sight of all the other nosy neighbors.
As Ken was finally dragged back into his house by his mother, leaving
other remaining tough kids still mindlessly playing with their dolls and
tea party until their working mothers returned home that afternoon, I
felt my mother standing behind me. Without turning my head to see her
face, I could tell she had that certain faint smile on her face that she
usually sported when things went her way.
It was that moment in my young life that I knew my mother wasn't normal;
wasn't just a normal human being, wasn't human at all.
***
All those tough kids never did bother me again; they never changed at
all, and later all moved away from the neighborhood within a month or
two of each other, leaving empty houses for almost a year in the emptying
neighborhood, where I became the leader of the remaining kids. Similar
weird but yet getting normal incidents happened in my school years to
those bullies in my schools, usually after they did something to me.
None of those changes were talked about in the open by anyone, always
only in hushed voices in a quiet and darkened room, afraid of something,
or someone. But no one suspected a thing about me, or my mother.
My college life was really a mess. I fell in love with this girl, Janet,
that I met in my freshmen English class, but she was dating the star
receiver on the football team. When my mother sensed my mixed emotions
when I went back home on one of those holiday weekends, she told me there
was nothing to be worried about.
When I got back to my dorm room, I found Janet was waiting for me. It
turned out the football player she was dating was found to have a night
job in one of the strip clubs a few towns away from the university, and
the school decided to suspend him from all school activities and course
work. At first I didn't understand what could get the school
administrators and Janet so horrified of this football player's job.
Then Janet told me, when she was crying on my shoulder, sitting on my
barely there springs mattress that I called bed.
Between her sobbing and crying, she told me that the strip club wasn't
allowing their workers to strip all the way, always kept a few things
on. And the football player, I think his name was Thomas, almost could
have passed for a girl, that is if he got a long haired wig and stuffed
his bras and made sure his G-string really contained his manhood, tightly.
A year later I dumped Janet; I didn't fancy her any longer. But
something still lingers in the back of my head; I just can't figure out
why she decided to transfer to a Christian university and later become
a nun.
***
Working life after college wasn't that bad for me; even when I had bad
bosses, I soon got transferred out of the dump or those managers soon
got fired, decided to join the Peace Corps, or decided to have a big
change of life style. All that happened right after I mentioned my bad
bosses to my Mother. So I got better jobs within the company with better
bosses. Life was good, work was easy, and money was great. Then, one
day at work, I met Betsy.
I was in love with Betsy from the first moment I saw her near the office
water cooler when I was goofing off. She walked straight toward me,
looked at me, then gave me a note, ordering me to appear in front of the
company President in three days. I didn't read that note until much
later, my eyes were locked on Betsy the whole time. Her beautiful lips,
smooth hands, nice figure, long legs, high heels, and really nice perfume
or body spray she was using.
I called my Mother that night, telling her what the note said, but mostly
telling her that I was in love again, in love with someone who didn't even
want to spend an extra second with me at all. My Mother told me not to
worry about the note, it might be a nice reward for all the good works
I'd done so far in the company. And then she told me not to worry about
Betsy either; soon she would want to glue herself to me for life. I
didn't believe a word she said that night, but I had that certain nagging
feelings she would be right again.
The meeting with the company president took place three days later as
instructed, and it went well. I was promoted and became his personal
assistant. Well, I wasn't the only personal assistant in his executive
office; his twin daughters, both Betsy and Betty, were working there, too.
Soon after, one morning I asked Betsy out for coffee after work, but she
told me she'd rather take me to bed instead that night. We didn't make
it to the bed that night, either; both of us decided right then that the
supply room was the place, and we were in there for the rest of the work
day.
I know you would want me to tell you that Betsy and I were together and
therefore happy to be with each other until eternity. Well, it didn't
happen that way, not really, at least it wasn't what really happened.
After three weeks, Betsy dumped me; Betty cursed me for making her sister
unhappy for all that time. It seemed my mother's wise words weren't
coming true, after all. I told her that over the phone one evening, and
she got mad, really mad. Mad at me for questioning her wisdom and her
powers. Mad that her only child didn't believe she could make everything
right again.
The next morning, everything was back on track, at least on the surface.
***
Now the clock is ticking down to the final moment until my wedding. I
am nervous as hell, but yet I'm angry at my parents, at my Mother
especially. My Father passed away eight months ago in a car accident,
and my Mother passed away a week later after remaining in a coma after
the accident.
Wait a second, you say, if that's the case, how could my Mother have
just called me few minutes ago?
I'm looking at my image in the mirror, cannot believe what my Mother did
to me eight months ago, nor what kind of troubles she could be willing
to go to just to make sure everything turned out the way she wanted to
it to be, or appear to be.
"Are you all ready to go?" Betty comes into the room I'm now in. She's
the maid of honor in a sexy and elegant white chiffon gown, almost a
wedding gown except in name. Her body's figure is as nice as the gown
containing it; the gown reveals very little skin, yet nothing was hidden
for all to see.
"Yes, Father," I say to Betty, who now has the soul and mind of my
Father inside, thanks to my Mother's hard work eight months ago. I take
another look at myself in the mirror, the last moment I will be seen as
a single person. As I walk my final steps to the altar in the large
church, Betsy's father is waiting for me. He smiles at me, then at
Betty, who hurriedly walks to the door as the wedding coordinator
instructed her to do, and then slowly walks down the aisle as the maid
of honor. My father still has a very nice ass, I mutter to myself in a
low voice. It's my last moment as single. After this, I'll be happily
married as the world would think. Yet, it's not really going to be that
way, at least not on the surface.
I take a look at Betsy's father; he's all smiles, and yet crying at the
same time. He takes my hand, and then we walk down the aisle as one. My
Mother is now waiting for us to finish the short distance that seems to
be long and hard to walk down. She's all smiles, smiling at all her
handiwork leading to this. As Betsy's father stops, he looks at me and
gives me a kiss on the lips, then gives my hand to my Mother. As my
Mother holds my hand, her hand is feeling out my hand, my fingers, and
trying to calm my nerves.
Then her hand moves up to my arm; I feel her fingers through sleeve of
my beautiful silk lace weeding gown. Yes, my Mother is in my male body,
while I'm now forever trapped in Betsy's beautiful body, along with my
father in Betty's body. A necessary thing to do, my Mother told me that
morning after I woke up in Betsy's body eight months ago. I didn't
scream as you might have expected; I already knew it was useless to do
anything, so I just accepted, as I always have. My Mother always ran
the show.
The wedding, on the surface, is picture perfect, yet nothing is what it
seems, with players changed and shuffled around.
As my Mother is putting the ring on my finger, and my Father is now
crying beside me, either he's happy or sad to see his only son being
married to his wife of more than 800 years. All I see now is my own
face, smiling at me, foretelling the horrors I would live through for
the rest of my life, for eternity.
"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest says, sealing my fate,
forever. And forever is a LONG time. I cannot believe it, I cannot
believe what is going on, I cannot... "You may now kiss the bride," the
beaming priest tells my Mother. I want to scream now and run far away.
It's all madness.
Yet, I can't run. I can't hide. All I can do is offer my delicious
lips to my Mother, and she presses her lips to mine and kisses me like
never before in my life.
But as she... er, he will be kissing me now for a long, long time.
Jeannie
- 10.07.2022
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