My Other Mother Ch. 11

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Ameaner
Ameaner
1,252 Followers

The front of Pastor Marx's blouse was now soaked and she watched as three guys began sucking the booze out of the shirt, she laughing like they were, opening her mouth wider in silent pause when they began sucking at her breasts.

She happened to look up then and we both looked at one another. She chuckled happily and returned her attention to the three men who were now working together in unbuttoning her blouse.

Everyone, including myself, was surprised to find a Pastor wearing such a flimsy, insubstantial black lace bra that was easily seen through now that it'd been soaked in beer. One of her shiny, erected nipples had been worked clear of its low cup and was immediately tweaked by one of the men, the other two going back to licking and sucking without the encumbrance of the blouse.

"Wanna see mine?" Sue asked as she pulled her shirt up and over her shoulders without waiting for my answer.

They were nice, although not as nice, or as big as Mum's. They sat in a white bra that gave them lift and she looked at me with pride while I stared at them.

"You're a sweet little bitch too, lamb chop," Arlene informed, her thick fingers fiddling with my belt as Sue untucked the back of my shirt so her hand could roam over my back inside it.

"I shouldn't be doing this," I tried, making moves to get off the dyke's lap as my dick rapidly hardened.

She held me there and my move to free myself was interrupted by Sue's grinning gesture to the center of the room. Both Marci's boobs, probably just a little smaller than Trina's, were out of her bra, her blouse gone while she was helped up to the top of the table. When she got there on her hands and knees, she was surprised, but not in a bad way, by the erect penis hanging in front of her face. Her mouth opened at the sight along with the feel of hands grabbing her ass and straight inside that cock went.

More hands began to grab her, feeling her body up at will as the man in front of her started slowly fucking her surprised, but compliant face. I took a gulp of the glass of rye that the bartender gave me, my perverted mind almost victorious in its battle with my morals.

I looked down in time to see that Arlene had gotten my belt undone and was pulling all the buttons at my fly. I was hard as hell and I wanted them to see, wanted to show myself off and I actually smiled when Sue stuck her hands down my pants. A moment later they had my cock out and were playing with it, making me feel great. I took another gulp of the rye and looked over to see how Marci was making out, so to speak.

She was on her back and a different guy's dick was in her mouth, a sleazy, rotund guy wearing a yellow polo shirt with his gray slacks down to his knees. She sucked and stroked him eagerly, obviously enjoying the act as her slacks were being pulled down to her ankles. Pastor Marx wore a thong that matched her bra, but only covered her actual sex, leaving everything else, including her cropped, dark brown pubic bush, exposed.

Sue started sucking my cock while I goggled at Marci, she oblivious to all as the music stopped. Between songs, I watched and listened to their low whistles and surprised comments at "the good Pastor's sexy panties". Her lewd sucking and moaning was the loudest thing in the room just before the music kicked in, something that sounded like Rage Against the Machine, but a bit harder.

And then a funny thing happened. It happened all at once, like the way light instantly fills a dark room when one flips the wall switch, illuminating all that was hidden a split second before.

First, the increasing effects of the liquor just sort of... slid away in a sense. The mental and physical impairment was almost gone, leaving only the wild, unpredictable possibilities that a drunk mind can come up with and have no qualms about doing. I felt different, but it was familiar somehow. At the same time, I knew that the reason Marcie was allowing what the men were doing was because my grandmother had put the whammy on her like she did Audrey and Maureen. This was her doing, sure as hell. Lastly, I couldn't believe I didn't see this before and how my own sex drive had allowed things to get so far.

I roughly, rudely jerked my body from Arlene's lap and to my feet, pulling my pants back up and realizing that I'd also almost let myself cheat on Mum and Roxy with with these two puddles of puke. I was suddenly quite angry, mostly at myself and the rest at Marie.

"Fuck!" I cursed bitterly, the shouted, angry expletive bringing Arlene's advance upon me to a stop.

The song thrashed on as the singer shouted and screamed his lyrics, the heavy, aggressive guitars adding their ire while the drums accentuated the vocal rage.

"What, did she bite you?" Arlene laughed, prompting the laughter of her ditchpig friend who I actually let put her mouth on my penis! "C'mere, lamb chop, we're not done with-"

"Get the fuck off me, pig! Marci!"

I ignored her outraged expression, turning to get my only real friend out of the horrible mess of my own creation, when she grabbed my shoulder and whipped me around. I gave her a hard shove backwards, causing a pretty spectacular fall, taking our table, everything on it and the two chairs down with her and her very surprised expression.

Sue's scream wasn't necessary to attract attention to me at that point. No, a few people had noticed and they stood up, looking at me threateningly. At the moment, there was just no way that I could have cared any less about that.

"You guys!" I shouted over the music. "Get the hell off the Pastor; she's leaving with me right now!"

They didn't receive this very well and I was the immediate recipient of shouted insults and threats, all of them having stopped up their advances on Marci in favour of wondering where I got off, I suppose. Something else I couldn't have cared any less about. Marci herself only smiled, looking slightly confused, but horny as hell, her thong pulled down to her knees.

"Marci, get dressed, we're leaving! Now!"

"Everything's okay, Ste-"

"That's it, you little shit!" one of the guys, a medium sized unkempt fellow said as he advanced.

He made a grab for me and I used his arm and forward momentum to send him crashing into Arlene, who'd just regained her feet and was moving in from behind, both of them going down to the floor. That's when they all came at me, completely forgetting about Marci.

This was bad, but so was Jim Wall, my Jujitsu instructor. Mum not only found the best instructor in the city, she also found someone who had experienced the ring in venues that weren't exactly televised or sponsored by famous corporate names. Unbeknownst to her, she had hired what amounted to a very dangerous man who actually liked hurting people. Luckily, he seemed to take a liking to me and taught me a lot of things that I never mentioned to Mum, the kind of things that aren't even allowed in a dojo.

See, Jim explained that beyond the defensive aspect of throwing and holding, there was a different side to Jujitsu. For one thing, it's apparently the hand to hand defense style of the Japanese military, where a much more brutal touch is put to the art, all of which he taught me including some supplemental stuff from a few different styles. So, after all the knuckle pushups, finger pushups, one legged squats on the edge of a two-by-four, intensive cardiovascular training, etc. that Mum paid for, the real gold in Jim's instruction was the truly nasty stuff she never knew about. And he made me practice that stuff until I had it all perfectly because, as I said about Jim Wall, he liked to inflict pain and he was a very effective instructor.

The music fueled my already intense anger and the heightened senses of my mother's other son completely ignored any pretense of control or mercy from the very beginning. I broke arms and legs, flipped men off their feet to send them crashing down to the floor face first, flailed out with backhands and vicious elbow smashes, shattered kneecaps and even managed to avoid a few bottles swung at my skull. I did catch a few punches, but nothing serious and the only thing that stopped me in the end was the revolver that was pointed in my face.

It was the guy with the yellow polo shirt, his pants now pulled up. He had beady, ratty, greasy eyes as he stared at me from the safe end of the snubby, pulling the hammer back.

"Time for you to leave, Karate Kid." He snarled.

"I got no problem with that, just let Marci get her shit toge-"

"Pastor Marx stays." You go. Now. Or I'll put one right between your eyes."

He was serious. I was defiant, my anger having not abated in the slightest, my resolve to get poor Marci out of there never having slipped. I won the fight, the victory was mine and so was the prize. My rage almost boiled over as I looked back at this coward who wanted to rob me of it, our eyes making direct contact now.

I was actually surprised to see his eyes lose focus, his body relax somewhat as he fell to the Jedi spell. I wasn't expecting it, but there it was and nobody in the place knew as they watched, the broken, the moaning and the bloodied along with the less battered of my victims.

I hated the coward. It's my only explanation for what came next amidst the frustrated anger pumping over the speakers.

"Point the gun at your gut," I ordered.

He did this immediately with no facial reaction as I held him fast.

"Shove it in nice and hard, fuckhead."

He did this as well, allowing a discomforted grunt.

I sneered hatefully at him, a look he withered at on the inside, something I could literally feel through our eye contact before speaking again.

"Pull the trigger."

"(POW!)"

Everyone in the place jumped at the report, including me, causing me to break eye contact. The man in the yellow polo shirt moved back a couple of steps, tripped over a chair and went down, a dark, shiny red spot on his gut quickly growing larger. He'd dropped his gun, but he seemed a lot more concerned with his self inflicted wound than about wherever it had fallen, and he soon began crooning a high note of fear, audible even above the music before it turned to a scream of pain and panic.

They were all in shock, staring at me and trying to put together what had just happened. I couldn't blame them as I glared at all of them, the vocalist now screaming one long, loud, wordless roar of outrage as the heavy music supported his emotion, its own aggressive tempo adding any emotional details the listener might have missed in the singer.

I turned quickly and looked at Marci, she also in shock over what had just happened, her thong still at her knees, legs spread as much as they allowed even though the fun between them had been forgotten by all in the club.

"Marci!"

She looked at me and I saw fear in her eyes.

Looking directly into them, I ordered, "I said get dressed, we're leaving! Now!"

Thank her God, she complied so I could get my eyes back on the rest of the room, but none of them moved, not even to go to the aid of the guy in the yellow and red polo shirt, despite his desperate pleas for help. A minute later, still confused, but somewhat dressed with her pants pulled back up, her blazer on, blouse with collar in her hand, she seemed as ready as she'd ever be. I grabbed her by the upper arm and moved her carefully to the exit, keeping an eye on all my victims. I felt her body trembling as I stopped to speak one last time.

"If I see any of you fuckin' losers come out after us when we leave...! If I ever have any problems with any of you, or if Pastor Marx does...! I'll come back here and have every one of you cock suckers cut your own god-damned throats!"

They were scared shitless, all of them. Oh yes, they'd got religion that night, alright, and I hustled poor Marci out the door afterward.

"You're going home; I'm walking you," I stated once I got her out to the sidewalk, it being my turn to look over my shoulder to make sure we weren't being followed.

"You..." she tried.

"Home, Marci," I firmly repeated.

She led me there and inside her apartment where she only stared at me. She was still in a spell, Marie's, mine, or both.

"Go get in the shower, Marci," I told her, trying to speak softly despite the still present aggression and anger that wanted to be used up. "Get really good and cleaned up, okay?"

She nodded and turned, walking out of her small, but nicely decorated living room and down a short hallway. I went to her couch and threw myself down in it, covering my face with my hands, and tried to calm myself down.

I was partially successful with this by the time I heard the shower running, enough to think about the chances of police involvement. Unless the guy knew someone who could take care of a bullet in the gut, the cops would be called when he showed up at the hospital. Of course, he'd have a hard time explaining how it happened, since I never touched the gun. I figured I was probably okay, breathing a sigh of relief without a thought for those I'd maimed. Just one more thing I couldn't care any less about right then. No, my only concern was for Marci. That crazy old bitch didn't have to do that to her and, if I'd been smarter, had I not been so wrapped up in my own depression and stupid sex drive, I'd have seen what was wrong, what was happening before things got so far out of hand at the underground club.

Another thing I didn't understand was how I suddenly had the ability of the Jedi spell. With Audrey, there was already a basis of some sort started by Marie, a kind of free pass to her mind that she'd left, but the guy in the yellow polo shirt proved that theory wrong. Then it occurred to me that I had the ability ever since that moment that Mum and I shared. It was possible she helped bring it out, possible that whenever I was around her she was helping to bring it out more and more, she probably completely unaware.

I had become my other mother's other son. The booze they plied me with, the very worst thing they could've done, helped all the more and that was why I felt so different as a person, yet familiar. Even as I sat there on Marci's couch, I knew that I had been shoved to the side and that I wasn't really me anymore. I was the aggressive side of my personality, the parasite that lived off its more evenly tempered, controlled host. He'd been there the whole time, just unbeknownst to me, even after I began to understand the true nature of what I am.

It didn't bother me at the time, this revelation. I mean, why would it?

A door opened down the hall and the sound of the running shower was louder as I turned around to see Marci, wrapped in a huge, white bath towel, coming to a stop at the threshold of her living room. She looked at me with eyes full of fear and deep humiliation, her tone matching her expression perfectly.

"Steven... I- I want you to leave. I don't want you to come back and if you see me out... I don't want to talk to you anymore. I'm sorry, but... I don't want to be around... whatever God forsaken thing you are. Please leave now."

" ... Marci... I didn't hurt you, Marie did. I didn't even realize at first-"

"J-just get out, please?"

"But I-"

"Get oooooout!!" she suddenly screamed. "Get out, get out get ooooooooout!!"

In order to illustrate her desire for me to leave, she picked up a figurine on a nearby table and whipped it at me, tears flowing and fear of me even greater in her eyes.

She barely missed and reached for a twin to the figurine, whipping that too so that I could only flee her apartment. My heart tore itself in two as I listened to her completely break down from outside in the hallway, her racking sobs cutting through me along with my worry for her.

There was no longer any doubt that our visit to Shoreline was a serious mistake and I regretted it almost more than I could bear.

Part 3

I just went home after I left Marci's place. There was nothing else to do and if there was, I wouldn't have wanted to do it. But not even home, such as it was, was desirable, considering that Mum would soon be there as well and that there was no way to avoid her in our current single room lifestyle.

This isn't to say that I didn't want to be with her because I did, but more in the sense of being comforted by her presence, whereas I knew she'd be looking for sex. I wasn't sure I could handle that. I couldn't get Marci off my mind, or the anger I felt towards myself for having taken her to Marie and then not seeing what was happening at the club later on before things had gone so far. In addition were the events at Pitbull's place before that. I smiled bitterly at those events, now not so bothered by Mum's idea of a fun time in light of what happened to Marci, my only friend and now ex friend.

It was an eventful day, alright.

I was still in the grip of my parasite by the time I got in the door, still worried about Pastor Marx and angry with myself and Marie, vowing to get her for what she'd done somehow. I didn't play video games, or watch TV, didn't even turn on the light, rather sat at the table and stared out the window in dark thought.

There was nothing I could do about Marci except hope that she'd be alright, that she'd find some way of getting over it in time and move on. Failing a change in her mind about not wanting to talk to me anymore, I just didn't see any other solution to the problem and I had to compartmentalize the whole business. I had to keep my mind on... that damned promise. A promise to get rid of something that was as much a part of me, especially at the moment, as it was a part of Mum. When I thought of it then, it seemed more like murdering a big part of her.

My thoughts returned to that orgasmic moment we shared between us and how my Jedi stare seemed to have developed since then, thinking of how my beautiful mother wanted to have another such moment, how she wanted us to explore ourselves and learn. It seemed an attractive prospect, keeping to myself and Mum, burying myself in what I really was, what she really was. Burying myself in her wonderful pussy. My sudden hardon almost made me laugh, but it also reminded me of how I was almost taken advantage of.

I went and took a shower. I was still hard when I returned to our room in nothing but a pair of boxers, my condition easily obvious to anyone I may have met in the hallway. I met nobody, but it really wasn't a concern of mine at the time anyway. I turned the TV on and got up on the bed, leaning against the headboard, the streetlight and the screen cooperating to light the room.

By the time I'd watched the news, noting the Dollar, the price of oil, the markets and the chaos in Greece, my hardon for Mum was still almost achingly present and I had to struggle to not jerk myself off. The previous dread of having to deal with her had turned to a need for her that transcended both the emotional and physical.

It was almost a quarter to two when she did return, brightly coloured shopping bags to show for Joe's work.

"Hi, sweetie pie!" she happily greeted, putting a smile on my face instantly.

"Hi, Mum. You look good enough to eat."

She really did, too. She wore a red dress that almost reached her knees, the bodice covering each individual breast like a bra and leaving almost as much cleavage to look at while still looking somehow tastefully sexy.

"Thanks, hon," she smiled, looking at my lap and seeing my condition. "I see you missed me."

"Look who's talking. I'll bet your nipples are nice n hard, aren't they?"

"Almost always," she admitted, putting her bags and purse on the table.

"Will you pull your dress up and show me your ass?"

She smiled wider yet, turned around and hoisted the back of her dress to the small of her back, showing off the backs of her pink panties, the ones that looked so great on her.

Ameaner
Ameaner
1,252 Followers