Duckling (Part 2)

She was blind to all of it, first due to the intensity of her own inner state, but as she stumbled down the steps, and into the fading world of street conversations, playful masculine yelling and feminine laughing, the whirring of decadent neon, and the dueling streams of piss foaming on the side of the Queen’s Throne as two friends relieved themselves next to the other, the world began to coalesce, all its components, separate but equal, becoming one and without boundary.

As she moved, the world around her seemed to become less populous and bright, the lights that still did exist, lost their spectrum of color, becoming now only white, yellow, and orange. The conversations and drunken revelry all but gone, with only the occasional sound of passing car offering consistency.

As your mom continued, in the direction of the city block of dorm buildings - each one so similar that years ago, she had wandered into a male dorm building, mistaking it for her own - she started to realize that she was carrying a weight inside her. It was a weight unlike the one she carried where the back of her thighs and lower back met, which had sprung itself on her unexpectedly, a gift and a curse, all those years ago, and instead she thought it felt, at least at its blurry edges, more like that pit in her stomach, the one that gnawed at her comfort, self-esteem, and peace, the one rubbed away by your father’s loving hands, of which she believed only a seed of it stood, waiting for its bitter soil to arrive so it could embed itself within it, giving it the home it needed to sprout, growing itself into the all-encompassing monster it once was. The one she feared would come back one day to rob her of the blissful satisfaction of her second life. She consciously, with as little consciousness afforded her, held her upper lip tight against her two front teeth, shielding them from the world outside her mouth.

And then suddenly she had realized what the feeling was in her stomach.

It was her bladder.

She needed to pee.

As she stood there, struggling to stay up, she sensed a whirring in her peripheral, and looking at it now, was blinded by a light to her left that was only semi-ubiquitous moments earlier.

She moved toward that light, then feeling the sensation of something approximating a door handle in her hands, she tugged on it, and in feeling it give, she moved forward.

Ken had been just about to get up and leave when he heard the bell at the diner’s front door ring. He had only looked up at it out of morbid curiosity for what freakshow or glimpse at a sad story would walk itself into this dump, and when he had, his jaw dropped.

Standing there, in a tight orange dress, was a sight he thought he would never see again, it being somewhere else entirely. Somewhere that he didn’t know, and was too proud to ask, only noticing that at some point, during a summer years earlier, she was never in her family backyard anymore, and the pool that her parents neglected had become neglected entirely without her there to sanctify it with her form kicking through it angelically; nor would she emerge out of the front door of that house with more clothing on and with somewhere to be. She had disappeared from his existence entirely, never to be part of it again.

And now, just like that, in a place where even his memory of her had failed to follow, she, of all people had strolled in without fanfare, standing there, a sight for sore eyes and hearts.

Among the lessening clientele of deadbeats and drunkards, she happened to be the drunkest one there, and she looked around with a bare-sliver of jumbling awareness.

One of the servers looked at her, and she stumbled toward the desk.

-Where’s your bathroom, she managed to mumble out.

And the server, who usually would force himself to assert that the bathroom was for paying customers only, blinded by her attractiveness, even with a face flush with liquid blur, pointed in the bathroom’s direction with three hands.

Your mom followed those three hands toward those three doors, which all opened, three women, all of whom looked the same and walked in synchronous steps, came out, and she passed all of them, walking within all three doors and ending up, somehow, against all statistical odds, within the confines of a single bathroom.

She closed the door behind her. And as she stood there, trying to stabilize herself, in mind and body, in an attempt to remember why she was there, she looked into three mirrors. And in those three mirrors, she saw three faces, all three of them identical, but none of them familiar to her. And then those three faces, flush and neutral began to change, inch by inch into three smiles, and she looked back at these three smiles, each one looking back at her with - from molar to white molar, without blemish or flaw - three sets of perfect teeth, which shined at her like ivory under the white fluorescent light.

Ken sat there looking at the shut door of the bathroom, his jaw hanging open.

-Of all the shitty restaurants in all this shitty country, he thought. You had to walk into mine.

He had watched her ass, the way one stranded in a desert watched the distant mirage, as it followed her into that polluted bathroom, each cheek bobbing in hypnotic circular motions, even as she stumbled without grace toward it.

And then she shut the door.

And he was alone again, by himself, on the other side of the country, with the girl of his dreams, the one whose body he watched adorned in that damp glorious one-piece by her poolside, now within his vicinity, having been dropped in his weary lap, his thighs unexpecting of a miracle of a caliber even half as vibratory within him, and she just so happened to be within that tiny dirty room, sitting, with her dress hiked to the small of her back, her butt cheeks, carried from so far away to that dirty toilet seat, pressing themselves against it, relieving herself as she sat there, blind to the astronomical coincidence of it all. Either that or throwing up unglamorously with her ass sticking up in the air.

He had never seen her drunk before, even as he watched her with friends, or her boyfriend, by the poolside. He only ever saw her sipping on ginger ale, the alcohol content of which must have been nil, considering the high volume of it she drank without ever appearing drunk.

But here she was, stumbling into his life, its motion as majestic to him as it would have been if he spotted her on a fashion show catwalk, or running down the beach in her orange onesie, in Baywatch-style slow-motion, her luscious flesh bouncing just as slowly as her bare feet would lift and drop, her soles dusty with sand and her hair alive with wind.

But no, his reacquaintance with her was nothing of the sort. She was plastered like a pig, and she was alone in the big city, drunk and defenseless, cornered within its dirtiest nook. Alone.

Ken took his eyes off of the bathroom door to look around.

As soon as he noticed the two servers working the night shift were both in the back dealing with busy work, and that the few patrons there were barely awake or lucid, something in him, something as familiar to him as his own inner-monologue, having been with him for as long as he could remember, had possessed him to stand up, and then, as soon as he found himself on sure footing, he turned around in the direction of the bathroom, and seeing it there, without hesitation, he began to move toward its direction, letting the action take itself wherever it would, having trusted it his entire life, and knowing he should trust it now more than ever, even if it was that wild intuition, and its wild imagination, which gave him the reputation for being “crazy.” What did being sane even get one, other than a life as free from fame as from infamy, and as devoid of stories to tell as much as past tragedies to try to forget?

He had been made, in his mold in heaven, as “crazy” for a reason. It was some sort of seed planted in him, drawing him toward something inevitable. He knew it now more than ever. From the time he stood above her, driven by an incoherent disgust, its depth beyond that which he could even probe far back enough in memory to rekindle, when he had saw her, laying there in that orange parka jacket, her face to the snow, defenseless and docile, eager to avoid all conflict, laying on the violence of its wave, in anticipation for the moment it would break and settle as flat seawater, allowing her to coast like that, passively, onto the sandy shore.

The disgust he had felt in that moment, and the sudden urge it brought forth from him as if it were a natural muscle response. And then he *unzipped* his fly, standing there with his friends watching, shamelessly, and aiming it right at her, as the winter wind nipped at his body (he could remember it like it was yesterday), he let it go, eager with an urge to soil her with the filth ejected from his bladder, feeling it was all she was worthy of as viscerally as he had felt anything else.

Given its sudden onset, and the impossibility that seemed to be his lot in preventing it once the notion had emerged in his mind, what other purpose could that wild and impulsive moment have served than other than the obvious?:

He had been marking his territory.

He entered the bathroom, seeing first its toilet, its seat empty, but its water in mid-flush, meaning she had just blessed its porcelain with her sitting upon it seconds earlier. He rounded the door, seeing her there, the back of her raven-haired head, and the reflection of her flushed and passive face in the mirror, and it being reflected feeding into the remoteness of the moment but making it almost feel to Ken as if he were viewing it through a television screen. The part of her that remained real to him just then, was the part he could see un-inverted by a mirror, that part that he looked down at and saw, cupped in orange fabric like a cradle holding a sacred babe. Not only did it represent for him, as it sat there in innocuity, his biggest regret, but it also bubbled with his ache and nostalgia for home, for simpler times, and for the wild days of youth, where the consequence for action was proportionate to its effect.

He stood there for a little bit, looking at her as if she were a mirage. A smile forming on his face, and a warmth filling him, starting from his lower back. She couldn’t see him in the mirror’s reflection. She could barely see herself. But he could see her. And that was all that mattered to him.

Then suddenly, in a moment of powerful impulse, the likes of which he had always found impossible to control once it came, he wound back his hand and then, as if she was his to touch, let it swing forward with real power and slap against her protruding ass, feeling it, clad in the fabric of her dress, filling his thirsty palm. He then squeezed it to secure his victory.

As soon as he did it, she turned around, terrified as if violated, and seeing three male faces looking into hers, not recognizing any of them through sight, but feeling a familiar presence through vibe, and the familiar way he touched her, she only said one thing. And when he heard it, he felt an assurance surge through him.

The thing that she said which filled him with such bliss was only this: it was your father’s name.

She had said it with such a wistful bliss, happy he had come a month early, though all notion of time and date had dissolved within her, she knew she was receiving a gift, whatever that meant, ahead of schedule, whatever that meant as well. Wherever she was, whatever the time, and the town, and its latitude and longitude; whatever this little room, somehow your dad had found his way there and he was standing just in front of her.

And with that, she smiled with perfect teeth at the three faces, feeling as if she knew their soul, and with that she leaned in to kiss the strange hydra, all heads at once with a passion decidedly unbridled, only one man deserving of it.

His bottom lip brushed against her straight phalanx of smooth teeth as he sucked at her peach-tasting lips, his hands at the small of her back, their heels resting on her cheeks, allowing them to wander up to her face, then back down again to pull her closer, as if she could be pulled inside of himself, the place where he needed her to be, she being the most central part of his soul, or at least the very the shape of its only void.

She whispered your father’s name again, this time into his mouth as she kissed him.

-Yes, he said, in between kisses. I’m here. Don’t worry. I have you, baby.

-It’s been so long, she said.

-18 years, he said.

Bare-naked concepts like “long” and “love” and “too much” and “too little” could be made sense of within her now. But dates, lengths, units were all blind to her, and she didn’t even notice, never mind register, the esoteric content of his last statement, though it had meant the world to him. He had hated her since he had any awareness to feel hate to begin with, even going so far as to tell his dad he didn’t want to go outside because the ugly girl was there on the neigbhor’s porch. She was his first introduction to the grotesque in life. And he hung onto that contempt which she stirred in him with such great power that she had passed from the thing that he had wished to avoid, to that which he wished to get close to, entirely without his awareness, even as he noticed her on a day-to-day basis.

Almost fearing the moment would be violated by a phillistine drunkard who needed to relieve himself, his hands wasted no time, as if functioning from a mind of their own, with exploring the body he had designated as his own through sheer domination more than a decade earlier. An establishing shot from the bow, so-to-speak, a product of freakish premonition. A body which had known his idiosynchratic anointment before that loser with the unkempt hair had come as the new guy, cutting in on the trajectory of this story, throwing its path off into the treeline before its full beauty could bloom with the fattening cheeks of your mom’s ass, and its road be tampered down with travel like the two front teeth of her mouth with silver braces.

She was now where she belonged, and it was only right for him to take what was deserved. There was nothing in his way depriving him of the right, no coming bus driver, no gym teacher wandering outside the gymnasium door, no mom of the host of the party, and no fence seperating his yard from hers. He had her now. All he had to do was let his impulses do their thing, the way they were always meant to.

The sweetest fruit was always that which you had thrown away and missed. He could know that now, having sunken his teeth into them, his mouth filling with its bursting juice.

He pinched it with a reluctant intensity, as if to do so would wake him, and he’d discover himself in his own bed back home, pinching the cheeks of his face instead, still a senior in high school, with the sounds of a pool party next door, and she there, surrounded by an army of friends, untouchable to him, untouchable to him through their history and a colossal mountain of bad dreams and memories.

He squeezed hard.

-Uegh, she squeaked.

-It’s okay, he said. It doesn’t hurt.

-Eughh.

-Be quiet.

She said your dad’s name again.

-Yes, said Ken. I’m here, and he continued kneeding his fingers and thumbs through her sea of flesh.

He would gladly live the rest of his life under the moniker of that loser if it meant the restoration of his rightful title and a second chance at what was always meant to be his.

She said your father’s name again, her tone in doing so so saturated in lust that it filled him with a inner-contentment as deep as he had known.

-Yesss, he hissed into her lips. Just the two of us. I got you.

He was eager to feed into her delusion for the sake of strengthening the clarity of its purpose. The more she mistook him for your dad, the better the sex would feel, and the more he’d get to wallow blissfully in her lust and love for him, and outcome which he longed for like breath.

Her reborn pheonix of a mouth, and her immaculately conceived messiah of an ass, became his everything, the bathroom their kingdom, and its toilet their throne. Lifetimes passed within the throes of their passion, and your mom’s flesh in his hands seemed to stretch on and on, a vast empire, her raven black hair a river flowing through it, her fading eyes its two largest urban centers and her nose its sublime mountain poking in through the cotton embrace of its sky.

There was a special moment inherit within the security of knowing that an ass was yours, and the paradoxical pleasure that came with it when you could let your hand slide up away from that ass toward the flatter, bonier structure of a lower back. He knew that, with her and others, that that was the moment when real control had been established.

-I missed you so much, she murmured with slurred kissing.

-It’s alright, he said. I’m here now. And I’m never going to let you go.

He longed for his own pelvis to become her throne, and he turned her around, frightening her in her idiot stupor, as if the sudden inches worth of distance would mean a violent separation for a few months longer. And then he tugged her close.

He had spent a decade an a half musing over the nature of that mouth, first fearing it in infancy, then growing to despise it in youth, then to feel superior to it in his teenage years, before longing for it as a senior and missing it, like one who misses home, as an adult.

He had spent so long with it staring in at his mind’s window in various manifestations, that its absense, and unfulfilled promise, left a void multiple times its size, its chasm deeper than the elegant swallowing of her throat, and with a smell ancient and damp, instead of the warmth and sweetness of the mouth he wallowed in now, its pleasures a garden, and its air a cool breeze against sweating flesh.

Devoid of any explicit sexuality, even as her beauty bloomed, its implicit counterpart took full reign. He had watched it do so with the wild jigglings and firm muscles and the majestically stepping and kicking feet in her backyard. A body so sexual at its very nature, attached to a mind that was not, that even in a color without implication, orange, and a bathing suit meant to be modest, a one-piece, it blew all other competitors, in his school or others, out of the water without her even trying.

Planting kisses on her was a gift. The masculine rubbing of her throat, and the automatic fibers of fear it caused, and its articulation through her face and body, was a heavenly affair in-itself.

The only rubicon left to cross, that which was the most delightful to any man, was the bringing of his naked arousal into the moment. He reached down for his pants.

She reached down for three cocks, not recognizing any of them by sight, but knowing them as your father’s through the warmth she had received from them. She had thought of your dad’s cock not just as a utensil for her own pleasure, but as a trigger for his, and through it, something which she could repay him for his love through the easiest of joys, her ability to do it for him, even after all these years of doing it, among her greatest surprises in life. There was a time when she couldn’t have reasonably expected a single man anywhere to long for her touch, a fate she was spared, but not unscuffed by it, its remnants still tainting the waters of her inner-mind’s peace as some strange form of survivor’s guilt.

That’s why she had loved your dad as dearly as she did. He was the first person to love her before she emerged from her suffocating cacoon. It was as if it was his love that had made her beautiful. And because of it, she longed for his cock and the joys it gave him at its manipulations by her soft hands.

Ken could feel all of this, and understand its source, as she reached down for his, and it only added to his sense that everything was becoming right in the world after a hiatus of many paniful years. Your father had piggy-backed on a love meant for him, and now he was only continuing this game of leapfrog unto its natural conclusion, his naked flesh electric as her fingertips ran over it.

Your mom had become woman at its most pure, all visual aspects of love and familiarity faded, in place of a deep feel for emotions, them being what the physical world was a maze between, seperating one beautiful emotion from the other through a labyrinth of long, dreary hallways that had to be traversed in a woman’s life. It was the overpowring sense of these emotions which caused your mom to feel your dad where he wasn’t, her love for him being so ironically overpowering and pure that she could find him anywhere, so long as her mind was shut off from her sense of sight.

Even the cock she reached for, the one she knew as well as she knew his face, had seemed to transform. But she loved its freakish difference all the same, the way she had wished, alone in her bedroom for years, that someone would love her protruding teeth.

To show the depth of this unconditional love, through the only way her blurry mind could muster, she lowered herself down to her knees.

Ken looked at her with his eyes wide, and then he settled into the moment, a grin forming at the corner of his mouth.

-Do it, beautiful, he said. Suck my cock.

The bottom of his cock-head brushed against her almost-perfect two front teeth on the way to her mouth. She sucked at his head for a second and it was the second time in his life he had almost premature ejaculated. The first was when his classroom’s slut, Rebecca, had rode his cock for a few seconds in the school bathroom after the day was over and the school was mostly empty but for the stray janitor. Rebecca, bent over with her forearms on the sink, had smiled at him through the reflection in the bathroom mirror, stood up, pulled up her pants, and with a body filled with his cum, walked off into the school with pride at what she could do to him.

Your mom, without any extra effort, or that gene for exciting sexual intuition inherit in every whore, had almost done the same to him today, just out of the love for your father that permeated her.

He was a king now, and she was his queen.

-Get my balls, baby, he groaned. You know how much I love that.

She knew it was true, the sensitivity in your dad’s balls and guch like a switch to bringing her joy. And so, she lifted his cock and leaned in with her face.

-Yesss, he said. I love it when you used to suck them after our pool parties. I loved that little one-piece.

He couldn’t believe it was the very same mouth that horrified and disgusted him years ago which was now giving him the most pleasure he had ever known.

He leaned down and grabbed her thong, pulling on it just as he imagined doing to the strap of her one-piece bathing suit as he jerked off in his bedroom, hiding from his drunken bullying father, achieving escapism through wishes for sexual perfection through your mom.

-Take off your dress, he said. Let me see those titties free.

He couldn’t have cared less for you mom’s tits, nobody really did, but he felt a compulsion to make sure he had seen every private part of her. Every inch of her had to be scanned over and documenting, as if it was his to approve of, taking that duty from your dad, as if it was Ken’s watch in your dad’s absense.

After her chest was bare, he lifted her to her stumbling feet, and then all of a sudden, he grabbed her by her hips and twisted her around until she was facing the strange triage of female faces reflected back at her. At this sudden change of direction, she held onto his cock for dear life, it being her only anchor to time and place, the world around it but a blur.

-Okay sweety, he said, a smile on his face only obscured by his occasional look of uncontrollable bliss. Now, I want you to sit on it.

Coincidently, that exact wording was the one your dad used on your mom for the same purpose, and because of it, she knew exactly what was wanted of her now.

She was eager to please.

For a second time, Ken almost came right there, this time it being the thought of your father, and how he’d react if he could see what was happening to his girlfriend in this grungy bathroom right now. The soft flesh of your mom’s ass, each cheek supporting the other, rubbed against his lower body, staining him forever with its gorgeousness and lovely sensation. These were the cheeks that he had pondered at taking by force at one point, risking even his own freedom, and the possiblity of being placed on a sex offender registry for life; yet here were those same cheeks, through no power, forced or otherwise, of his own, giving him the exact pleasure he had required of them.

Your mom was a pro at the art of pleasing your father. For her, that was all sex had ever been. And in turn, that art was now being used on Ken to a loving perfection. The ass she had grown suddenly in front of your dad’s unbelieving eyes, which she had learned to use, with a profound responsibility, on rewarding your father with it, assuming that that was why it was given to her, not wanting it to end up in the wrong hands, believing they were unworthy of it; now, here it was, swallowing the cock that doused her with coppery liquid. Her fat cheeks swallowing that weapon against her self-worth, giving it the most pleasure it had ever known.

The pride that he saw within her fading eyes as she looked up at him forced a smile from his face.

-Your daddy’s dirty little girl, he said. Now bend over.

He pressed his palm on the flat of her back and pushed her flat against the sink. Then backing up slightly, he stopped for a moment to take in what sat in front of him, her pretty eyes, and perfect smile looking up at him in anticipation, as her ass sat there below, waiting. He grabbed the waist of her panties with a contempt as vicious as that which he used to see when looking at her gaping big-toothed smile, and then he tore those panties off of her, freeing her ass to him now and forever.

-Let’s see how you fuck, you big-toothed bitch, he said. I love you.

He pressed his cock inside of her slowly, and feeling it being taken in by her soft inner flesh and the heavy mass surrounding it, he groaned.

There’s a profound disappointment inherit in finding a beautiful girl, going through all the painstaking and deliberate motions to get her attention, get her on a date, get her laughing, and get her into your bedroom, all without mistake, only to find out in the moment of insertion, that the sensation of her pussy wasn’t as delicious as the rest of her.

Your mom did not represent one of these cases.

Not only was her fat ass perfect for providing stimulation as it was pumped from behind, but her pussy seemed to be perfect for Ken’s cock, another piece of evidence he stored internally for his thesis that the two of their fates and bodies were star-crossed in nature, if only for this night. If only he had known even more, that your mom’s pussy and Ken’s cock were so both situated, that each one was almost shaped perfectly to provide the other with perfect pleasure.

Your mom looked back up at the ring of masculine faces, each one becoming more like your dad’s with every revolution it did within the edges of her sight, and she smiled, ecstatic that your father’s cock was now capable of satisfying her in a way it never had before, and that the inside of her pussy wasn’t bending his cock out of place in ways that usually made him uncomfortable as it did every time prior, leading to an unfortunate amount of careful finesse when love-making. Because of this, she rocked back and forth harder, not just for the sake of her own pleasure, but for his, which she knew she was providing better than she ever had before, and which she felt necessary to continue, worried that it would never be this good, for either of them, ever again.

Your dad deserved this moment. She knew that.

Their faces suddenly, as if in opposite polarity, were drawn toward each other’s in an instant, and as their lips met, they both melted and became one within their minds. With your mom, the effect was especially pronounced, as she was having trouble differentiating the point where she ended and he began, and realizing this, in whatever way she could realize anything, some wordless part of her hoped this was what heaven was like, becoming one soul and body with him, with your dad, exactly as he was now.

She had never felt more safe, more loved, more alive, and more beautiful than she had here in this strange room. And it was all thanks to him, the man she loved more than any other, your father, and what he was doing with and for her now.

As she looked into his face upside down, as if something had suddenly changed, she noticed something new, something strange, and something as clear as day, but what it was, she couldn’t put a finger or toe on. The eyes she looked up at, both of them peering down at hers like two moons, seemed to be two which filled her with a sudden nervousness and angst, and wanting to fight the intruding sensation, being especially appalled by it due to its suddenness, she looked down and ahead at the reflection before her, but seeing the terrified and hopeless look of the three women there, she shut her eyes, feeling her ass being pummeled from behind with aggressive smacking from a strange pelvis.

She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, as if she was hanging on, waiting for her irrational sensation to pass, focusing instead on your dad’s thrusts. But as she did, she felt a growing horror, a thought, as illogical as it was, that what stood behind her thrusting was not your dad.

And then suddenly, with an uncharacteristic violence, two hands grabbed her at her arms, and a sudden shock ran through her as she braced for falling, an occurrence which she was sure was coming as intensely as dreaming followed sleep.

But instead, she realized that she was still standing there, bent over, firm in her footing, only feeling instead a fabric being pulled over her body, her arms being forced forward to allow it to clear her head, and then she stood there, feeling naked, free.

Ken let her dress fall into the sink.

-Good, he said. Now we got that stupid dress off.

After saying it, he looked down at her bare back, and seeing it, he squinted as he examined it. She turned her head and looked up at him, and seeing her like this now, he couldn’t help but feel like something had all of a sudden changed about her. Something which he couldn’t put his finger on or wrap his grip around to hold steady.

But fighting the sensation, he grabbed her at her sides, an action which made her flinch again, and positioning her as he backed up toward the toilet, he made ready to move to the second stage of love-making, that which he imagined her doing to him on his bed as the birds chirped outside and his dad stomped up and down the hallway of the house.

When your dad’s penis was placed at the entrance of your mom’s pussy, she reflexively let herself fall over it, pulling her heavy ass cheek away from it to make room as she usually did. But something was wrong this time.

The sensation was amazing, keeping her to the task of riding it, but the cock was strange. Like your father had transformed underneath her into someone that she barely knew. Or someone she knew, yet never had known as intimately, and never wanted to know.

-Feel good, sweetheart?

-Yeah, she said.

It wasn’t a lie.

-Good, Ken said. You’re making me feel wonderful.

She rode to a faster rhythm now, eager to please him, but as she did, she couldn’t fight the feeling that the cock inside her body gave her. Not only was it reaching deeper, but it was massaging her insides in a way that was seemed invasive, almost like when a stranger touches you, even if just on the shoulders or arms, there was always something not right about it.

She called your dad’s name again through the throes of passion, hoping it would be her trail of breadcrumbs to follow back to a sense of things as they actually were.

-It’s me, Ken said, referring to your mom by her name afterward. This is better than when we fucked in in the bushes at the park.

The shudder of unease that shot through her could be felt by Ken, but it could in no way be differentiated from the shuddering that ran through her from raw pleasure.

She didn’t remember ever fucking in a park before.

Had your father fucked someone else in the park? Was the reality of the world around her changing along with your dad, her memories being the only thing spared, making her a loner in her own world, estranged, but sight, sound, and experience, from her very own boyfriend.

As if to fight away the uncanny fear, she spoke with dishonesty.

-Yes, she said, moaning, both with real and artificial pleasure. Yess, I remember that.

-Of course you do, bitch, he said.

Feeling the hand come against her ass suddenly, spanking it pink, her unease became a sort of terror. Your dad had never called your mom that: Bitch, and at hearing it, she felt a sudden rush of horrible nostalgia, the likes of which was beyond place and time to her loaded mind. The cheeks of her face and ass began to shine a pink-red, not just from the sensation of the spanking, which had gotten harder and more objectifying, but from a sudden embarrassment and shame, the likes of which cut through to her very being. The balls of her feet and her toes itched with it.

Seeing no choice, she rode harder, a sudden guilt coming over her at these sensations she felt for the man who had meant so much to her.

-You like that?, she asked with a vibrating timbre.

-Yeah bitch, he said.

Your mom bounced harder to overcome the sensation that word gave her. She needed to prove her love despite the hurt, or possibly, because of it.

-You dumb ugly bitch, ride me.

-Eughh

-Come on you beaver-looking bitch. Ride that cock.

-I’m ugly, she moaned. I’m ugly.

-Yes you are, Ken said. You stupid, ugly, piss-drinking bitch.

She looked down at your dad’s face, and instead of seeing it there, or seeing the identical faces of three strangers, what was now looking back at her were two identical faces, both of which she recognized.

-Ken, she said, and grabbed his shoulders, not stopping or slowing down her rhythm.

-Yes, he said.

-Ken, she repeated, suddenly twisting her hips as she rode, feeling the cock stir in a circular motion inside her.

-Yeah, he said. Do that more, you ugly bitch.

The reddening of her face and cheeks became more pronounced, but her body only went harder.

-I’m ugly, she said, as if to reiterate a bare-naked fact to herself. I’m ugly. Tell me I’m ugly. Tell me…

-You’re ugly as fuck, the two familiar faces, both of which had been the product of her inner-bully for years, said to her with an ecstasy. You look like a fucking rat.

-Yes, yes! she squeaked, increasing her motion, feeling the cock stimulate her harder because of it. Ken! Ken!

-You’re so ugly, I can barely stand looking at you.

He grabbed her suddenly by her hips, causing her to flinch, and lifting her up as he stood, he turned her around, the world about her becoming a shocking blur in the process, and then tried to plant her head within the bowl of the toilet.

-I can’t stand looking at your face, he said.

Her feet reached tile as he pushed, and as she tried to hold her head above the echoey basin of the toilet bowl, he started to notice her bending, further and further, almost impossibly so, until he realized he had folded her in half. Looking down, he saw her face looking back up at him from between her two legs, confused. Her mouth hung open, and he could almost see his own shadowy reflection in the white sheen of her perfect teeth.

-Ughh, he said. I can’t stand looking at that fucking mouth. His teeth were gritted all through the sentence.

To cover her face from view he pushed his cock forward to work as a barrier between his face and hers, and meeting her pussy with its tip, noticing now that her perfect ass, the one which hadn’t even belonged to her five years previous, was the only part of her he could now see.

-Finally, he said. You’re gone. And I can spend some quality alone time with this ass.

He pressed his cock inside.

As he continued fucking, grumbling to himself during, your mom looked up, only seeing a long cylindrical object entering a strange hole with some sort of strange beige sack of indistinct goods swinging back and forth above her. Or at least she thought it was above, she was having trouble placing herself. She first called your father’s name, and when he failed to answer, she called Ken, who not only failed to hear her over the sound of their thighs clapping together, but wouldn’t care to answer even if he had.

Your mom sat in the lonely shadow, which was cast by something she barely understood, and she looked up at some meaningless process, in a world devoid of any other. She was alone. She hated being alone. She needed the touch of another. The only thing which distracted her from the existential terror of it was the pleasurable sensation that rubbed within the walls of her pussy, the one she wished your dad was around to feel with her, to share in that pleasure, even if just vicariously. But there was nobody there. She couldn’t even see her own body. It was as if she were a disembodied head in a void.

Ken looked down at her disembodied ass and grinned. Its sight, so surreal and unexpected, made it feel as if the ass he had begged for behind the curtains of his window, getting blurrier with each of his father’s drinks, had suddenly been conjured from nothing before him and was being utilized without regard for that which had been attached to it. He imagined doing the same to the junkie from earlier, her mouth filled with horrors that cut into his soul, but his mirth had been tickled by the reality, as soon as he was reminded of it, that it wasn’t a junkie he had with him now, it was a specimen of immense beauty.

He caught glimpses of her bewildered face looking up at him between thrusts, and he felt a devilish joy boil within him. Her teeth hung open, as if the spectre of a previous overbite which she had slayed in its physical form through conscious habit.

-Stay down there ugly, he said. I can’t stand the sight of you. Your face looks like a human foot.

It made him feel big to say it. To not only bring her back to previous size, but to keep her there, looming over her, his shadow cast over her back, her soul and self-esteem as twisted in knots as her body, ensuring himself that he would always be on top. The way it was meant to be. The gorgeous promise of previous experience.

He slowed down his thrusting enough for mechanical accuracy, and opening up her butt cheek with one hand, used his other to tickle her ass’s innermost crevice. She began to squirm.

-Jiggle it for me, he said. It’s the only part of you I can stomach. At least make it useful.

Your mom heard the voice both externally and internally, with its external tone and timbre being that of your father’s, filling her with a terror reserved for heartbreak or the threat of absence, and that of its internal make being one of her old bullies, the one who taught her what warm urine dripping down her back felt like. The latter made her feel infinitely hopeless and small. Without anyone too look into her eyes, hold her hand, or embrace her. Alone.

-That’s it, he said.

She shook her ass then out of the desperate need to grasp at the fine hairs of your father’s waning love, and to almost sort of shake away the approaching terror and possibility of Ken’s presence. She could feel hands slapping her on her ass, and though she took this as a good sign, the fact that she couldn’t see who was doing it, being unable to turn around and look behind herself, filled her with a sense of unexplainable dread. But she reasoned, as well as reason could be conjured, that it had to be your dad. Who else could it be? Nobody had ever smacked her there before.

-Faster, you dumb bitch, he said with husky confidence. You’d think the ugliest girl in school would know she has to work for it.

The ugliest girl in school?

Was that how your dad felt about her? It didn’t seem so insane. He was far from handsome himself, as much as she loved him, and maybe he had just settled for her. She felt the burning star of her last few years slowly start to give and drop toward the night horizon, its flame numbing as it fell, realizing now, as clearly as any thought could be in the liquid haze of her mind, that her recent years on the side of beauty were only an illusion, a subjective sense born of the sudden love she had received from your father, and years worth of consolation prizes offered to the figures of ugliness (“you have nice eyes”) by the charitable and empathetic.

And as it all came crashing down around her, the earthquake that took it all down rumbling to the rhythm of her shaking ass, she was shocked to feel something more frightening to her now than despair or heartbreak. What she felt as she stood there, aimless in this dark void, unsure of which way was up or down, was a sensation not unlike that of coming home after a long journey.

She was walking up the step of a house called Ugly, and inside there was a familiar meal prepared just for her, like it had been every night for years.

And after her meal, excusing herself from the table to nodding company, she went down the hall, entering her bedroom, and walking hazily through it, catches something strange in her peripheral. She looks over to see herself standing there, her reflection, but for one major change. It’s her body. Its shape is gone. And she’s standing there naked, looking at it. Her hips narrow and close together. Her thighs skinny and pale. And her ass completely flat.

Looking at it all, her mouth involuntarily hung open, and following the rest of her body upward with her eyes, she eventually found the open mouth of her face. And sitting in it, staring back at her, were those two front teeth, protruding arrogantly over the bottom lip of her mouth. She had found herself. Found herself as she actually was. She had been living a delusion.

And then suddenly, instead of the sensation of cold water that would usually accompany such bitter revelation, she felt something quite like the opposite streaming down her back. And before the sensation could even make it to the flat crack of her ass, the next thing she noticed was the overpowering smell of copper coinage.

As Ken’s cock was massaged my warm wetness of your mom’s pussy, he was surprised to feel like it was getting wetter as he went. He picked up the pace in arousal, and did it with such intensity, that it took him a moment to realize there was a strange sound coming from below.

-Phhth Phhhth

It was coming from directly beneath him. He stepped aside without stopping his thrusts.

Your mom’s face exploded into light, mid-mumbling and red, and Ken could see the tears in her eyes. Driblets of wetness fell from her pussy as he thrusted, some of it landing in her mumbling mouth.

Your mom looked up at a strange image above her, her face splattering with the refuse of its action. A sudden panic overtook her when she realized it was a cock and balls she had seen thrusting this entire time, and the hole which it disappeared within seemed to be a woman’s ass and pussy. Then, immediately, the first thought which had occurred within her mind as suddenly as the light had hit her face with the fading shadow was that the cock belonged to your father, and that the pussy and ass, being above her, could only be that which belonged to another woman. Your mom could hear Susan moaning, and at hearing it, her blood went cold.

She called out your dad’s name, but with apprehensive desperation.

-No, she said. You… can’t… Not…

-I can, your dad replied.

Susan giggled.

Her bottom lip began to quiver.

-But… you said…

Ken felt a swelling pound sensation in his chest at looking into her face. Almost as if to fight it, or to at least conceal his swelling emotion from her awareness, he spoke through clenched teeth.

-I can do whatever I’d like. Your face looks like a man’s ass.

Your father’s face suddenly filled with foreign features, and before she could say when, in his place floated the disembodied face of Ken, her old bully from when she was young.

Suddenly, a ray of hope struck through her dark bedroom, where she stood, ugly and alone, examining herself in the mirror. She looked up at her ceiling, seeing the cock and the ass there in riotous unison, but noticing that it wasn’t your father’s cock thrusting over her, it was Ken’s. And the ass being fucked belonged to a beautiful and shapely woman, one your mom could never hope to compete with or know what it was like to be. She looked at her flat ass in the mirror, just one unbroken crack from the small of her back to the space between her legs, then back up at the shapely bottom which rippled joyously with each thundering smack.

And seeing that she had imagined it all, and that what she was really seeing was the sex life of someone foreign to her, she snorted, and her fading frown slowly turned to what could be more commonly seen as a smile. The relief was heavenly.

Ken looked down, seeing his cock penetrate her in the reflection of her pristine teeth and eyes.

Then, at seeing it, suddenly felt his heart melt.

-Oh, come on, he said to her, his voice swelling with want. Come up here.

She felt a sudden blur within a cyclone, and then a sudden pain against the back of her head. Suddenly she was looking at a white wall in front of her.

Ken stood behind her, looking at the back of her head, her hair all wet with toilet water, with the cheeks of his face wide, sucking in air, with the mistake he just made. He leaned in and kissed the back of her head, the part which had struck the tank of the toilet when he had grabbed her by her neck and swung her body up into a normal position.

He looked at the area closely, lovingly, and seeing that it hadn’t left a mark, he kissed it again and then whispered into the back of her left ear.

-You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

Your mom melted, feeling the vague massaging of her insides being filled in form by the cock of your father.

-Ken, she said, speaking to the man who stood behind her. My boyfriend is back. He’s making love to me. I can feel his penis inside me. He’s missed me for so long. He loves me.

-I do love you, he said into her raven strands of hair. I’ve always loved you. Every second without you has been hell.

-I know, she said, speaking to your father. You’ll always love me. We’ll always be together.

Ken started to feel something tugging at his throat.

-Just… he began. Just promise me you won’t forget m- he had to catch himself. You won’t forget me.

-I can’t forget you, she said, then repeated your dad’s name. I’ll never forget you. And you’re not going anywhere. We’re going to be together forever. We’re going to be married. And we’re going to have kids together. Just like you said. Just the two of us. And nobody else.

-I’m not… I’m Ken, he said.

She shot forward in a burst of sudden pleasure.

-Ken, she said, as if calling to an old and half-remembered friend. Do you see me?

-Huh, he said, sweating through his confusion as he thrusted, feeling her ass fill-in his pelvis with each motion.

-I’ve changed Ken, she said. Look, I’m not the same anymore.

-I know, he said. I’m fucking you, aren’t I?

She felt another burst of pleasure. She called behind herself to your father who stood there with a smile.

-Babe, remember Ken, my neigbhor? she asked through vibrating moans. He’s inside me now. He needs me. I’ve changed and he needs me. He doesn’t hate me anymore.

-That’s amazing, you father said to her within her mind. Give him your all so he knows how good you’ve become.

She looked into Ken’s eyes, and he back into hers.

-My boyfriend makes love to me, Ken, she said. But you fuck me.

-His cock gets in there so deep, your dad said within her. I can feel it.

Your mom, at the realization that she wasn’t alone, that her pleasure was being shared with the man she loved most, began to grin.

-Get in me nice and deep, Ken. My boyfriend wants to feel it. I’m pretty now.

-You’re not pretty, he said. You’re beautiful.

Your mom tried to hide her prideful smile from him, but the smile within herself was wide enough that it could be read through the every fiber of her mannerism and being.

-Did you hear that, babe? your dad asked. And feel how hard his dick is now. He really means it.

-I used to sit at the front of the bus, Ken, she said. Because the bus driver didn’t like tomfoolery.

-Uh huh, he replied, continuing his thrusts.

-Now you’re not alone, babe, your dad said. And you’re doing tomfoolery as we speak.

She was there, at the front of the bus, bent over that leather seat as her classmates watched her getting pummeled by Ken from behind. Every once in a while the driver’s eyes would crawl up to the rear-view mirror to get a look.

-Where am I on the list, Ken?

-The what? he replied.

-The list? Am I the prettiest?

-You’re number one, the prettiest, he assured her. Nobody comes close.

She was hanging onto the radiator at lunchtime outside of Ken’s class being fucked as his peers sat within, eating. She looked around at the white walls, and then she was standing in her bathroom.

-Remember, if you have to go sweety, just tell the teacher. There’s no shame in having to use the bathroom.

Her mom pulled her kitty-kat underwear down from your mom’s soft, round ass. She then stood up, looking up at your mom, who stood a few inches taller than her.

-Okay, she said, motioning toward the bathtub. Step in so I can clean you off.

-I can’t, your mom said. Ken is here.

-Who’s Ken? her mom asked.

-He’s the one behind me, she said. His penis is inside me. It fits very good.

-Oh sweety, her mom said. Do we have to have a conversation about the birds and the bees?

-The bird is, and she said your father’s name, because he sings to me.

-And the bee? her mom asked, as she washed your mom’s back.

-The bee is Ken because he stings, but he also loves honey. And I’m honey now, mom.

-You always were, sweety.

Ken looked down at the blabbering idiot who was in the process of speaking to him, calling him “mom.”

-Do you like Ken’s cock? Ken asked in a soft, effeminate voice.

-Yes mom, she said. It feels good.

-Ken is better than your boyfriend, isn’t he?

-No, she said immediately. I love my boyfriend more than anyone.

-But whose cock feels better? her mom asked in a vibrating voice.

-Ken’s does, mommy, she said and whimpered. It goes so deep.

-Well then, her mom said with a grin. Buckle up, sweetheart.

-My sweetheart isn’t alone anymore, your dad said, leaning down, speaking softly into her ear.

He looked down the length of her back toward her ass, watching it being clapped and cupped by Ken’s insatiable pelvis.

-He’s fucking you like an animal, isn’t he? He can’t control himself. You’re just too beautiful. He must feel so embarrassed at how wrong he was all these years. Ooh, he said. I love seeing my baby girl in such pleasure. Embarrass him more by being a good girl for him. Show him what he’s lost out on.

Your mom moaned.

-No tomfoolery back there! the bus driver hollered.

-Leave her alone, Ken, a disembodied voice called through the freezing wind. Your mom could see the frozen breath of the speaker come in through her peripheral. She isn’t bothering nobody just standing there.

-Don’t leave Ken! she said.

-Fuck off! he screamed to the voice outside the bathroom. It’s occupied. I won’t leave you, he said to her. I… I lo-

Suddenly the door swung open.

Standing there, key in hand and his jaw agape, was one of the young men who worked behind the counter.

-Uhh, he said, watching astonished.

Your mom saw one of Ken’s middle school friends standing in his place, his face barely visible under a shady terrace.

-Ken he said.

-Leave, Ken said.

-Ken, leave her alone. She’s not bothering anyone. You’re going to get us in trouble.

-Maam, the young man said slowly, his voice cracking. Are you alright?

-She’s fine, Ken said. Mind your own business.

The air-conditioned air from without blew inward.

Your mom was laying in the snow, with Ken on top of her, thrusting as his friends watched, astonished.

An obese woman from outside could see minor glimpses through the obstruction of the worker’s body and the half-ajar door.

-What’s going on in there? she muttered.

-Stop the tomfoolery hollered the bus driver.

-Look, your dad said, sitting next to your mom on the couch with a red cup in his hand filled with coke. You’re the star of the party. Everyone’s watching. He passed the cup over your mom’s back to Ken’s hand. Don’t spill any on my girlfriend, he said, then looked down at her with smiling eyes.

Your mom looked deep into those eyes, lovingly.

-I love you so much, she said.

He blushed.

-Here, he said, handing her another cup. I poured you some ginger ale.

The woman outside stood up slightly, and catching a better glimpse, shot upright with a scowl.

Mrs. Rose stood in her classroom, looking at your mom being fucked from behind, her face distorted with a subtle disgust.

The woman powerwalked to the door, and pushing the young man aside, she put up her finger and began to speak.

-What are you doing in here?

-Mind your own business, you tub of shit, Ken hissed through his vibrating thrusts.

The woman was shocked, taken aback for a second. Then she looked at your mom with squinting eyes.

-Is she even sober?

Ken suddenly felt a tickle in his belly, one which he knew all too well. Without stopping or slowing in his thrusts, he turned his head and looked out at the woman who was standing there in her mountainous girth, judging him with her bloated face and stature.

He suddenly pulled his cock out, and it sat there, upright, stiff, twitching. And then in a sudden moment, in full view of the young man and fat woman, a volley of cum shot out of its enflamed tip, landing on your mom’s ass in a thick and drippy mass, followed by another, and then another. Each shot landed on the surface of your mom’s ass, either one of her two cheeks, or landing in the crevice between them, and slowly dripping downward, guided by the convex river banks of her inwardly turning butt cheeks.

The woman stood there, astonished, Ken staring directly into her eyes as his balls emptied. Then his final gushing had stopped and they all stood there in a profound silence as the cum crawled down your mom’s soft flesh. Not long after, that profound silence was broken when Ken opened up his mouth.

-If she was sober, would she have let me do that to her? he said with a smile.

The woman suddenly, as if pulled by the code of sisterhood, the one which had the homely, fat, and old pull in the direction of maximum chivalry for those who were beautiful, shapely, and young, shot toward the copulating mess of humanity.

Ken suddenly let go of your mom, feeling his cock emerge into the frigid grasp of air-conditioned atmosphere as he ran for the fat lady’s center mass.

Your mom saw another blur of porcelain white before suddenly feeling herself fall into a giant pool of blue water. She looked around underneath the surface, and seeing the wall at the deep end, she began to kick her legs, moving rapidly toward it as gracefully as a swan, her swimmer’s muscle tensing and releasing beautifully as the top or bottom of each foot pushed paradoxically against the giving liquid. Standing above the waterline, blurred by the motion at its surface, was a figure as familiar and fond to her as that of her own reflection. Your dad stood there, his face distorted and his arm extended with his hand open, waiting for her to get to the poolside where he stood.

She made it to the wall, and just as she reached up out of the water to grab his hand, it shot past her, grabbing her by the back of her head and tugging.

Ken pulled your mom’s face out of the toilet bowl.

He kneeled there, looking at her.

She looked back at him.

-Ken, she said with a look of surprise. Welcome to my pool party. I think I forgot to invite you.

She smiled.

The woman outside, beyond the locked bathroom door, was out cold. He had felt her jaw give against his fist, and just her silence itself now spoke volumes. But he could feel the young man, portly and awkward, and to use an unfortunate term, ugly, hovering outside the door, wishing he could be inside, knowing that what he had seen in here already would be the most exciting thing he’d ever see in his unspectacular life.

-Ken, she said. You should meet my friends. They like to have sex too.

Her eyes were big and wonderful, and her teeth a portrait of perfection. Ken kneeled there, looking into it all. His cock hung there flaccidly.

-I’d rather have nothing to do with anybody you know, he said. If they look anything like you, I’d rather hang out with dog shit.

He let go of her head and she slowly let it fall to the floor.

She lay there for a second, then she lifted it and turned to look at the wall.

She was silent. Her bottom lip began to quiver.

Suddenly, she felt her mom leaning in behind her in the bathtub, removing the scrunchy of her pigtails from her hair.

-That’s the thing, sweety, she said. Not everyone can be beautiful. Just like not everyone can be smart. And not everyone strong or funny.

-Am I beautiful, mommy? your mom asked.

Her mom looked at her with a blank face, and then she smiled.

-You’re beautiful to me sweetheart, she said, pulling the sponge from the water and squeezing it until it gushed. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

Your mom felt the warm sponge pressed against her back, the sensation soothing her, with trails of warm water not just falling but spreading against her aching body. Your mom suddenly noticed something. Her nose twitched.

Ken stood above her, his flaccid penis in his hands, and from this penis, a yellow stream of liquid shot out in an arc, shining in the fluorescent light, before landing on your mom’s back.

The sound it made was a satisfying crumpling noise against her soft flesh. He then pivoted in place, aiming his stream at the side of her turned-away face. Her eyes twitched. Then he pivoted in the opposite direction, watching the stream as it cut a path across her back, before he settled it, and all its powers, on the target of her giant ass.

He had drank a lot of coke out there, giving him a lot of fuel to spend on the urine he shot at her butt-cheeks, starting with one, floating over to the her butt-crack, after which, continuing on to the next cheek, before reversing course and going back, over the crack, to the other.

He then continued his path down the backs of her thighs, down her calves, before aiming at the upturned soles of her feet.

-I don’t care what this loser thinks of himself, he said. All of you is mine. Even if it drives me mad. You’re chained to me like a dead albatross.

He clamped down internally on his stream, and kneeling down, squeaking a little bit out of his tip as he did from the pressure on his bladder, he turned her over. Her eyes were now shut.

Your dad sat there on his end of the couch, looking at her as if it was the first time he really had a chance to.

-Here, he said, extending his hand with the red cup in it. Drink up.

A stream of yellow urine shot into your mom’s mouth. Then exited to splash her in her face, before going back into her mouth again.

-I’m always going to be a part of you, Ken said. No matter how hard you try to fight it.

His urine stream began to weaken.

-No matter where you go, no matter how far you run, there’ll always be some part of you that’s soaking in my piss. I want you to think of it, its feel, smell, and taste, every time you even thinking of being happy, or free, or glad to be yourself. There isn’t a single part of you that hasn’t been marked by me, inside and out. If you don’t remember any of this, at least remember that.

His stream died down into nothing, ending off its fanfare with a few dribbles on her chin.

He got up and got into his clothes, leaving her face down on the bathroom tiles.

Looking into the mirror at himself as he washed his hands, he began to smile. Then looking down, he had noticed that the sink was filling up with water.

It was a crumpled up mess of orange fabric which sat over the drain, obscuring it. He picked it up, looked over at her, hearing the sink suddenly begin to swirl and empty behind him, then looked back down at his hands and the crumpled up orange dress within them.

The bathroom door shot open, and the young man jumped back.

Ken stood there, looking at him.

-Thanks for the meal, he said. It was great.

He then placed a wet orange wad of fabric in the young man’s hand.

The young man looked at it, and suddenly was startled by the sensation of something grabbing his penis. He looked down to see a hand.

Ken looked at him.

-I can see my friend in there has had quite the effect on you, he said, and squeezed the young man’s erection.

He looked over at the fat woman lying unconscious on the floor.

-If you’re planning anything, he said, looking back at your mom’s naked and wet frame lying still on the ground. You better do it fast before Little Miss I’m-So-Busy-Sticking-My-Nose-In-Everyone-Else’s-Business-That-I-Don’t-Have-Time-For-Exercise wakes up.

He jiggled the young man’s penis, then he let go and walked off.

The young man turned to watch him leave. The bell jingled on his way out, and the man stood there, holding the orange wad in his hands, watching Ken as he looked both ways down the sidewalk, then he continued around the corner, the last impression Ken left of himself being that of somebody who was on all levels, physically, emotionally, spiritually, satisfied.

The young man looked at the door for a few moments longer.

Then he heard snoring.

He looked down at the fat woman, still out, laying there, harmlessly. Then he turned around. Laying in the bathroom, there on the floor, a college-aged woman, one well beyond any he had ever expected to see naked in person, laid there, free to his sight, and possibly, if he wouldn’t wake up from this apparent dream, to his touch.

It took him a bit to move. He was overweight, freckled, and his eyes were a bit too close together. He had tried taking-up exercise and weight-lifting, but a stray mean comment spoken too loudly by a gym bro was enough to dash his dreams against jagged rock, and he hadn’t even tried to improve himself since then. All of this, and the pock marks which these experiences had left within the moon of his self-esteem, had seemed to be working on him now the way they had worked on him in previous moments in his life. He stood there with indecision. Your mom breathed in and out, motionless on the floor. Completely unaware to everything. And the woman who had tried to save her, and was rewarded for that enterprise, was in much the same state.

He examined your mom’s raven black hair, her pale, pristine skin, and the structure of her face. The way her bangs hung over her features, making her look like a young Winona Ryder.

He took a step into the bathroom. He turned around, seeing the fat woman laying there. He shut the door.

It wasn’t until he locked it that it started to set in what he was about to do, and in realizing it, he began to shake.

He watched her beautiful, angel-like body as he pulled down at his work pants, exposing his pale, pimpled, and strangely skinny for the size of the rest of him, legs. They were two completely different worlds, he knew that, and just the thought of it, of her experiences with life, touched by the purple ribbon of beauty, compared to his, dashed against the concrete by the weight of ugliness, made him shake all the more.

Before stepping out of his pants completely, he fished in his pocket for his phone, setting it on the sink, eager to take pictures, to show his friends at next weekend’s DnD game. All of them, awkward and strange, in face, body, and demeanor, just like he was. He wanted to show them the phoenix whose ashes lay there within the dregs of their world, if only for a moment, a wounded sparrow lying helpless across their floor, and to inform them, that he, a fly just like them, had landed on that very sparrow, gnawing at the exposed flesh it left, without a hand to swat him away, sending him back to the dusty patches and trash heaps of his life where he belonged.

As he lowered himself to her, smelling a distinct coppery smell as he did, assuming that it had to be the olfactoral residue left by sex, he slowly lowered his body to hers, shaking at the thought of what was to come next.

And then, just as he lowered himself enough, feeling his muscles strain as he did, he felt the tip of his penis meet the soft flesh of her ass, each side of it cupped by an inward sloping cheek, and in seconds, he was ejaculating onto her butt crack.

He watched as his penis ejected wave after wave of cum on the perfect white ass, and then the pleasure, and the immense power it had over him, all but evaporated, and he was kneeling there, naked, over a passed out woman, her ass stained with the contents of his balls.

As eager as he was to lock himself in that room with her before then, he was just as eager to escape that room, locking her inside of it alone after he was finished.

Terrified at the thought that he had yet to close the establishment, even though it was technically closed, and of someone wandering in and finding her there, he left the bathroom, fully clothed, and quickly scrawled out an Out of Order sign on a notepad by the register and went back to the bathroom to tape it to the door.

As he closed up, sweeping the floors with a thousand yard stare over what he had done, he heard a moaning. Freezing at the sound, he looked over and was relieved (weirdly relieved) to see it was only the fat woman. He went over to her, ready to help her up, practicing in his head at telling her that the man and woman in the bathroom had already left.

Your mom woke up, although that term was only relative in this case. The world about her was still a blur. The only thing she was sure of was that she was alone. And at this realization, she shuddered. She stood up, saw another face, and moved to it, excited, desperate for the company of anyone, but when she saw a strange blemish across it, she stopped, realizing that she was only looking at her own reflection in a dirty mirror.

She looked around for her clothes, and not finding any, assumed that it must have meant that she was already wearing them. Then she turned to look around. Seeing the door, she looked down at its knob.

As the young man lifted the fat woman up to her feet, the bathroom door opened silently behind them.

Your mom wandered out, completely nude and wet, her body wet with one man’s urine, and her ass sticky with two men’s cum, and before the other two could notice, she made her way to the glass door of the establishment.

-Yeah, just like that, the young man said, holding the fat woman up by the crook of his arms.

Suddenly, he heard jingling bell behind him, and he turned, letting the fat woman crash to the floor, only to see the last glimpses of a perfect naked ass in sloppy motion. Once it was gone, he knew it was gone from his life forever. Not just it in particular, but it as a concept. He had become re-stranded. Re-stranded on the island of his own ugliness.

And at realizing this, hearing the woman moaning on the floor, he went to go lift her up with reduced vigor and duty. It was all downhill from here, he knew this. With the only thing left to him to remember it by sitting balled up in his pocket, a wet wad of garish orange. Minutes later, before leaving the building, he’d be standing over the toilet, watching the orange wad move in revolutions as it neared the black hole of the toilets drain, before being sucked in and disappearing forever.

Your mom stumbled down the street, the pavement still warm from a day’s sun against her bare feet. The world, now slightly more coherent, still rushed past her in a blur. She had no idea where she was, where she was headed, or why, but she still walked there as if she had full confidence in herself.

Bright lights flashed to her left and she turned to see an indistinct number of shocked faces, some of them speaking to the others but emitting no noise. She then felt something hard against her hip, stopping her in place. She looked down to see a red metal contraption, jutting up cylindrically out of the ground, pushing against her. She rounded it with labored thought, then turned to look at the bright light, seeing faces glare at her as she continued.

She heard strange mechanical noises, including one which seemed to be getting closer, and as its sound rose to its highest point, she heard a sudden honk.

-Hey party girl, she heard, from somewhere to her right. Why don’t you come with us?

She continued on, not understanding what was being said. Not knowing that responding was something she should do.

-Holy shit, another voice said. She’s drunk.

-Close the door, Hank. She’s probably on something.

-All the better, he said.

-You’re a pig. The voice that said it was female.

-Just stop the car, he said.

-No.

-Come on! Let me get out, I’ll walk home.

A sudden screeching noise could be heard and then the man’s voice bemoaning his company in the distance.

-Fuck you guys!

Your mom felt the sidewalk end, it had ended and re-began a few times, but this time it was different. Because at the end of this sidewalk, she felt the urge to turn to her left.

After going a ways in that direction, she found a monolithic building jutting up into the air, among other building just like it, but she knew, as well as she knew anything, that it was where she needed to go.

Getting to the door, she lifted her hand against its keypad, and hitting a few keys from rote memory, the door buzzed open. She stumbled inside, finding herself inside a brightly lit lobby. A hallway continued onward, with a little nook cut out in it where a table, chair, and rotary phone could be seen. Your mom continued down the hall.

Her room was at its end, the last room of the hallway, just around the corner. But as she moved toward it, she saw a little stick figure on a door, and seeing it, she knew she had to go inside.

She ended up inside a big white room, and moving toward its wall, she grabbed a knob, she turned it, and in turning it, felt a sudden rush of cold, then increasingly warm, water spill all over her. She could feel a freshness, and a smell of copper dimming. She felt the warm water fall over her face and drip off the curvature of her ass.

She heard something, and turned to see two bodies, both of them naked themselves, with their faces seeming to look over at her. They were saying something. But she couldn’t hear them over the sound of running water. When she was finished, she walked, wet, out of the bathroom, down the hallway, seeing the hall’s end, and the window looking out into the street, with her room on the left.

She stumbled toward it, seeing it get closer. She grabbed its knob. She opened it and went inside.

The room was dark, and she didn’t want to turn on the light, being happy she had just escaped the light which was hard on her eyes. The room though, even in the minimal light from street lamps outside, was clad in blacks and blues, and otherwise was colorless. Her dormmate was lying in her bed. She stumbled toward her own bed, and falling into, she rolled over, and suddenly felt an obstruction.

Putting her hand out she felt a broad back. And then, turning around, looking over at her, was a face. And she recognized it. And when she did, her eyes lit up.

-Baby, she said. You’re back. How did you-

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

-Shh, he said, not wanting to wake her dormmate.

Understanding, she whispered to him.

-I missed you, she said. I love you.

And he pulled her closer for a kiss.

As he lay there, holding her by her shoulders, feeling her naked hip against his, he looked into her eyes with bewilderment. He had seen a silhouette standing in his doorway, one that was feminine and shapely, but chalking it up to sleep, he assumed it was only the body of his dormmate coming back from the bathroom filtered through his half-awake imagination.

But no, lying there in bed next to him, was her. The one he had looked into the eyes of much earlier that night, then back down at her I.D., then back up into her eyes, before winking at her, and watching her as she walked inside the bar. She was now here, was now naked, and was now holding herself against him, in his bed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes, flashing him that beautiful smile, and carrying behind her, almost certainly, that beautiful ass, which had to be as naked as the hips he felt rubbing against his own; all of it now with him, under his covers or over them mere inches from his face and hardening penis.

As he pulled her close, realizing that whatever the explanation, he had no time to waste, his roommate lay across from him, sleeping securely in his bed.

His roommate had spent an entire evening dealing with noisy drunks, including two couples who just wouldn’t stop ordering drinks, and had been exhausted by it. He had walked back to the dorm that night with thoughts of her on his mind, and though her remoteness from him bothered him, something about just knowing she was out there, and knowing she was probably happy, was enough for him to feel some sort of consolatory peace. And as he lay there in his bed, his roommate just a few feet away, inserting his hard cock into a perfect ass from behind, he slept peacefully, with his mind content and occupied. As it was filled with the every detail of her beautiful smile.

And what more could anyone ask for?

-Eugh, a formless female voice panted in the darkness.