Teenage son takes care of Mom after new baby arrives, incest stories, I can’t begin to describe how much my life has changed these past couple of years. I wonder sometimes if I am going to be ruined for any other woman because of my relationship with my mother; yet I can’t seem to think about anything else. My heart starts racing even as I write this, knowing Mom told me to tell our story, and she is waiting to read it.
It started when I was 18 and in my last year of high school. My mom was 39 and to everyone’s surprise, including her own, she got pregnant. I honestly didn’t even know my parents did anything that often, as they fought a lot and he was either working outside or spending time with his friends. I never understood it because my mom was like a throwback to the 1950’s, only more fun. She did everything around the house and treated my dad like a king. Waited on him, did all the laundry and cooking and cleaning; in addition to her 9-5 job as a legal clerk. Only thing he did was “man” stuff like fix things and take care of the yard. He was not a bad guy he just did not spend time or appreciate her like he should have.
Anyway, I was busy a lot that last year of school, and I did not take the time to help out around the house until mom was in the last 3 months of her pregnancy. I played football and was involved with stuff at school, but I was not overly popular with girls or guys. Once football season was over, I started to hang around more at home.
I don’t know what it was, but my mom looked absolutely stunning to me all of a sudden. I had never once paid attention to a pregnant woman, unless I saw one on a beach or something, but there was just something amazing about seeing mom with her belly getting so big. She was still very active; going to yoga classes after work, shopping, taking care of the house and generally not slowing down one iota. She dressed very sexy, or at least what I considered very sexy, for a woman that was six or seven months pregnant. Mom shunned those baggy clothes and seemed delighted with her new found shape. Snug, form-fitting, yet classy blouses, sweaters and skirts for work; tight leggings and jeans, with sexy tops for weekends. And those flannel or silk “jammies” as she called them were too much for me at times. Running around bare foot, bending over the oven or to pick something up; catching a glimpse of her bare belly and her swelling breasts.
I can not tell you how embarrassed I was on more than one occasion when she caught me ogling her while serving dinner or lounging on the couch. Mom would simply smile and go about her business, but inevitably she would make eye contact with me later and I would feel myself turning beet red. Was it my imagination when she started leaning over me more when serving dinner? Or when she started sitting next to me on the loveseat, tucking her feet under her, but in my direction; instead of sitting in her usual spot on the couch? And as the weeks went by, did she really need more help from me and not Dad around the house? Asking me to pull things down from the cabinets or carry the laundry downstairs to the basement. She would always give me a little brush on the arm or a kiss on the cheek, but never really look me in the eye or give me anything extra to go on. She was just being my sweet mom.
I wanted to be around her more than ever now. I had always been kind of shy, which is why I went out for sports, but even that never took the edge away. Being with mom was the only place I felt completely safe and able to be myself; whether that be serious or silly or angry or even sad. I took it upon myself to start waiting on her like she always did for me and Dad. I felt guilty that I had never done this before. The first time I did it, I just fixed her a drink while I was fixing mine. She looked at me for a second like I was from another planet, and then she just smiled.
After that I would always ask if I could do something for her or help out. I started all the daily chores, and actually became what she said was a mother hen. As her belly was now huge, I did not want her moving a muscle. I also realized something else at that time. It made me feel more like a man to take care of her. Dad thought I was plain stupid for doing so much especially when I had my own things to do. And he thought I was even crazier when I no longer complained when she asked for someone to go to the store with her. I offered to go for her instead now. She started making little comments to him about at least someone cares about helping her and stuff like that. Dad would get pissed on occasion, but normally it looked like he hadn’t even heard her over the television.
I would watch Mom waddle around in front of me at the grocery store or the Costo’s, picking out things for the family. On these outings she would always make sure she got each of us a favorite treat that Dad would not know about. Some extra cookies or ice cream, or we would stop off and have a quick lunch someplace out.
She was beautiful already, but the pregnancy made her even more so. Dirty-blond, shoulder-length hair, small lips and a cute little nose, with the prettiest blue-green eyes I had ever seen. She wore just enough eye makeup to make her eyes “pop” which gave her a little bit of a naughty appearance as well.
Mom could tell I was enthralled by her, and she began to flaunt it as she entered her ninth month. Almost every night now, she would ask me to rub her feet or her shoulders. She was home all day now and not working, so would have a snack ready for me when I got home. I think she loved me telling her that she shouldn’t be doing anything for me at all and then watching me as I made over her for the next twenty minutes by fluffing the couch pillows and fixing a drink or something for her too.
On numerous occasions she would get all excited and call me over to feel the baby kicking. She would hold my hand on her tummy and watch for my reaction. More often than not there would be nothing to feel except for her. She must have known that I was almost overcome by being able to touch her bare skin there; that it had nothing to do with the baby; even though that was kind of neat to be honest.
So, Mom ended up having my baby sister, Vicki, right around Christmas and for the next few weeks, I continued to hover. Even Dad helped out more than usual. Mom was not one to stay down though so she was up and trying to get back to her old routine in just a few days. She was surprised when I continued to chip in even after she told me she was fine now.
Four months later mom had her shape back pretty much. All except her breasts which still looked way too big for her little frame, and her tummy which had a slight, soft pooch to it around her mid section. I was mortified when one day she caught me staring at her running on the treadmill in the basement. I was fixated to her bouncing boobs and the large wet spots from her sweating made me so hard I couldn’t get off the bench. She looked down at her chest and blushed when she saw where my eyes were focused. But instead of chastising me or covering herself up, she just kept running, wiping the sweat from her forehead and chest with a towel and smiling at me.
“I can’t believe how much they’ve filled out, can you?” she said. I couldn’t believe she had just said that so openly. She saw the look on my face as I turned my face away and attempted to keep lifting again. “Well I can’t. I was happy with my 36-C’s thank you very much.”