This choice: A couple of hours later, mom needs to pee. • Go Back...Chapter #3A couple of hours later, mom needs to pee. by: K   *Bullet* A couple of hours later, mom needs to pee.The sun beat down on the backyard, a relentless heat seeping through the thin fabric of the bikini briefs, making Josh feel suffocated in the dark, tight space. He could sense the warmth of his mom’s skin all around him, the faint scent of sunscreen mixing with the stifling closeness. Every slight shift of her body on the sun lounger sent a ripple through him, a reminder of his utter helplessness, trapped as a part of her. The distant chirp of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze outside felt like a cruel taunt, a world he could no longer touch or feel as himself. His mind churned with panic and disgust, trying to grasp how long he’d be stuck like this, a silent prisoner in the most intimate part of his mother’s body.
A couple of hours passed, marked only by the slow crawl of dread in Josh’s thoughts and the intermittent sips of lemonade his mom took, the faint trickle echoing somewhere above him. Then, a subtle tension began to build in her body, a tightening he could feel deep within, and his heart—or whatever he had left in this form—sank with a sickening lurch. He knew what was coming, her earlier warning ringing in his mind like a curse. The pressure grew, an undeniable force, and suddenly she shifted on the lounger, her thighs pressing together briefly before relaxing. The faint sound of her sigh carried a casual indifference as she stood up, the movement jarring him, and he felt the bikini fabric stretch slightly as she started walking back toward the house, each step a countdown to the inevitable.
Josh’s terror spiked as she entered the bathroom—he could tell from the familiar echo of tiles and the click of the door shutting. His mom didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge him, as if he were nothing more than a mundane part of her routine. He wanted to scream, to beg, but he had no voice, no control, only the horrifying awareness of what was about to happen. As she sat down, the pressure intensified, and he braced himself, every fiber of his being—if he could call it that—recoiling in revulsion. The first warm look trickle began, and the sharp, bitter taste flooded what used to be his senses, a violation so profound it drowned out even his panic, leaving him in a haze of raw, helpless horror as the moment stretched on.
You have the following choices: 1. Piss 2. Piss indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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