On the RunbyCartman94©
Warning! This contains incest, please beware. If this does not turn you on, this is not for you. This is a rather dark story, at least in the beginning.
I saw the fist coming at me. Blam! Another hit and another one and another one. They kept coming. My face red, tears rolling down my cheeks, my body shaking and curled up trying to protect itself but it didn't work. My father's hand kept my hands in place while the other one kept coming at my face. He was drunk again, way too drunk. I was crying, begging, pleading him to stop, but he didn't. My mother stood behind him yelling and screaming trying to pull him off me but he kept pushing her to the floor. "Shut up bitch!" he yelled at her, "Shut the fuck up!" Another blow.
You're probably asking yourself what's going on. Let me tell you. My name is Diana, I was 18 years old when this happened. I was born as a boy but always felt like a girl. I always dressed up in pink dresses, tank tops, bras, stockings, thigh highs, ballerinas, you name it. I felt much more comfortable in girl's clothes than boy's clothes. I wore them at home and I wore them to school. There was no one in school who knew I was a transgender except for my best friend Liz. Naturally, since no one knew, I was a virgin but Liz kept everything a secret and supported me all the way through.
So did my mother. My mother was 35 at that moment. She gave birth to me at the young age of 17 and to be able to take care of me she stayed with that man. She managed somehow to get through college while having me and taking care of me and got a good, well paid job which was incredible. She loved me with all her heart and I loved her with all my heart. She caught me in her room checking out and trying on her clothes at a very young age. Of course they were way too big back then. We had a talk and when I said I loved to dress in girl's clothes she accepted that and she bought some for me. That was the first step of our close relationship. She bought more, taught me how to wear make-up, how girls act and so forth. She even helped me start hormone therapy. I grew breasts and my masculine features kind of disappeared. She then asked me what I wanted to do with my penis. Did I want to have a full sex change or not? I didn't want to, I wanted to keep it. I didn't really know why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. She accepted that too.
Then there was my father. I never called him dad, I hated him. My mom told me he has always been a bit aggressive and on top of that he hated gay people and transgender people. He thought they were a freak of nature that had no place in society. They had to be cast out. Now at the time I didn't know if I was gay or not. Dressing up as a girl didn't automatically mean you were gay, but I was a transgender and that was enough. When he found out he was furious. He hit me, he hit my mother, called us names and started drinking. Now him being mad is one thing, but him being drunk was something else entirely... and he was drunk a lot. He would go on a rampage. He would break things in the house, he would throw things at me and he would break me down. Every day was the same, hands, fists, books everything he could hit me with he did. He said I was worthless, a freak, that I deserved to die. He made me insecure, shy and at some points he made me hate myself. Then when he found out I was on hormones he lost it. He started hitting my mother the same way he hit me. He told her she betrayed him by making me look like a slut, like a skank. My mother cried, I cried, but he didn't stop. And then one day, he went too far.
Another blow. "Ow! Stop, please stop!" Nothing, he just kept going. Pressed against the couch there was nothing I could do. I saw my mom crying on the floor yelling at him to stop. Nothing worked. "Come here slut." He ripped my tank top off, revealing my black bra. I screamed. I tried to kick him, to break my way out of his grip, but he was too strong. His hand squeezed my breast through my bra too hard. "Ah, that hurts," I tried to kick him again, "get off of me." Pieces of clothing flew through the room. He had ripped half my bra off, revealing one breast. He dug his fingernails in my flesh. Pain shot through my body. My mother screaming louder now, crying more than I did.
He spun me around on all fours, held my hands on my back and began unbuckling his belt. I heard it hit the ground and he ripped off my skirt and panties. Screams, tears. I felt something against my butt crack. With his other hand he grabbed my hair and yanked it hard. "You wanna be a bitch?" He yanked my hair again. I yelled, tears running down my face, I tried to break free but I couldn't. "Well then get fucked like a bitch, you fucking whore!" He placed himself against my entrance. "Nooo! Please don't!." This was it. My life would be over. He had degraded me in every way possible and now he would violate me. My insides would be torn, I would bleed, he would have complete power over me.
Then I heard a thump. His hands released my hands and hair and he fell down. I turned around, scared, eyes wet from all the tears. The first thing I saw was blood. Blood was rushing out of this... this animal's head. He lay there, silent, not moving. I looked up and saw my mother standing there with a statue of a rock in her hands, blood covering the rock. she too was paralyzed, unable to move. I was staring now too. A dead body on the ground. My mom killed him. I kept crying. She let the rock fall and not a second later she was hugging me, crying on my shoulder. "Oh God Diana, I'm so sorry." She sobbed in my ear. I heard a voice but it was too far away, my mind and gaze was fixed on the body on the floor. Blood... blood... blood. She pulled me out of the couch away from the body. Her voice was growing stronger now. "...to leave. Come on Diana," she sobbed and cried, "pack your things, we can't stay here anymore." She took me upstairs and then everything was a blur.
The next thing I remembered was sitting in the car, fully clothed, my other clothes in a bag on the backseat and my mom driving, crying. I couldn't concentrate. I stared out in front of me. Trees, grass, the sky, it all flew past but the image of the body was haunting me. Not moving... blood coming out of the head... mom with the rock in her hands. Then it hit me... he was dead. Dead. I laughed, I cried. Emotions shot through my head like bullets. Then my mind went blank.
I woke up in a strange double bed wearing only underwear. Instantly my mind brought up the picture of the body. I tried to shake it off, to forget it, but it didn't work. I looked around. A chair, a window and a door to my left, a cabinet and mirror in front and what looked like a hallway and a wall to my right. I managed to drag myself out of bed, my head spinning, my body hurting. I walked towards the window and looked outside. The light hurt my eyes. We were in a motel. I walked towards the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. The entire left side of my head was hurt bad. I had a black eye, my cheek was double its normal size, my upper lip was cut and there was dried blood under my nose. I remembered him digging his nails into my breast. I pulled down part of my bra to check it. Nothing serious, nothing that wouldn't heal.
It was only then that I heard water falling. I glanced right and saw there was a door ajar. I slowly walked up to it and as I drew closer I heard sobbing. I peeked my head in and saw my mother sitting in the corner fully clothed, softly crying under the shower. I walked in. I had to comfort her, tell her that I was there, support her. The water was freezing, but I didn't care. I sat down next to her, but she didn't seem to react. I put my arms around her and hugged her tight. That's when she released it all. She hugged me back, tears falling down my shoulder mixed with the freezing water. I kept silent and caressed her hair.
"I'm so sorry Diana," she mumbled against my body, "I'm so sorry. I should have never let him hurt you."
I held her even tighter. "Hey come on mom, it's not your fault, it was never your fault."
"Yes it was. I should have done something about him sooner, he should have never layed a finger on you."
My eyes watered now too. "You don't have to worry about it anymore. It's over mom, he's gone."
She cried even harder now. "Yes, because I killed him. I'm a murderer, I'm nothing more than a murderer."
"No mom, you're not. You're not a murderer. You're a wonderful human being who just protected her daughter. You are not to blame, he is, that... that animal is.
She wouldn't stop and shook her head. "No, it is true. I can feel it, I feel his blood on my hands, on my body."
I cried now too. I touched her face, she was freezing. I turned the heat up and began undressing her. she looked up at me. "What are you doing?"
"I'm undressing you and I'm going to wash you so that so called blood is off your body." She didn't stop me. I took of her shoes, her top, her socks and pants. Then I took a deep breath and took of her bra and panties. I took soap and a washcloth and got behind her. I spread my legs around her and let her lean back against my body. I put on the washcloth, squirted some soap on it and began washing her face. She rested her head on my shoulder, closed her eyes and let me wash her. By the time I reached her shoulders and began washing her arms, she wasn't shaking and freezing anymore and she had stopped sobbing. But even though she stopped sobbing I felt she still had trouble keeping it in and she still believed she was responsible. But she was not. She only did what she did to save me, that animal brought it on himself. My mom only saved me because she loved me.
I moved from her arms to her breasts. I never thought I'd be doing this. She had c-sized breasts. I used to know the exact size, but not anymore. Gliding the wash cloth over them reminded me of the first time I tried her bra on. I was very young and her bra was way too big. It put a smile on my face, the first one since... since yesterday. I washed her stomach but then I was a bit reluctant at washing her vagina. Putting on a brave face and saying it wasn't her fault didn't mean I had no problem with touching her private parts. I took a deep breath and did it anyway. The washcloth glided over her clit down along her lips and a soft moan escaped her lips. She trembled a bit as I continued. Wow, she's pretty sensitive I thought to myself. No, stop don't think that about your own mother. I quickly moved on to her thighs and legs.
After a long time I was done with her body and I quickly shampooed her long black hair. "There." I said. And before I knew what was happening she turned her head and kissed me on my lips. "Thank you." she whispered. I was too startled to say something back. My mom just kissed me. Why? It was probably just confusion. With all the things that have happened, everyone would be a bit messed up. Right?
"Do you believe me know mom, it wasn't your fault okay? You saved me from that monster." She nodded, but still a bit unsure. I left the shower on, but we got out, I dried her off and told her to go take a nap before stripping naked and getting in the shower again myself.
The moment she was out of the bathroom I sank to my knees and started crying myself. I had to keep looking strong for my mother, but everything that animal had done over the years hit me like on big punch. All the punches, all the names, all the degrading stuff. And now even the thought of rape. If my mom wasn't there, if she didn't love me like she did I would have been used, been violated and I would end up killing myself, no question. I couldn't take it anymore. But she saved me. She made sure that monster would never hurt me or herself again. I cried for a long time, but for some reason my mother's kiss cheered me up. I had no idea why, but it did.
My mother was a beautiful woman. Every time we would go out on the street I noticed some guys staring at her. She had long, wavy black hair, incredibly beautiful blue eyes, a cute small nose, thick red lips, now that I had seen them, pretty breasts and what was that saying I heard a long time ago... oh yes, an ass to die for. She was still pretty young so she didn't look her age. And it didn't stop at her looks. She had an amazing personality. She would always help people, make them smile. Even when my father had beaten her or me, she would do anything to make me smile, to make me laugh. But now, after what happened, she looked defeated. No smile, no happiness, only sadness and tears. I couldn't stand seeing her like that. I would do everything I could to make her happy again.
I washed myself and got out of the shower. I looked at myself in the mirror and even though the left side of my face was beaten up, I realized that I looked somewhat like my mother. I had dark brown hair instead of black, but I had the same eyes. We had the same small nose but my lips weren't as thick as hers and I was a bit paler than her. My hormones gave me cute small b-sized breasts which I was happy with and my penis when erect would be around 6 inches. But my personality was way different. Where she was open and talkative, I was shy, nervous and insecure. That bastard made sure of that. I knew it was his fault and that I shouldn't be, but hearing him call me a slut, a skank, a stupid dumb whore, that I didn't deserve to live, that I'd be better of on the streets, living in a cardboard box making money by sucking dick over and over again hurt me in ways no one can imagine. I had never told Liz about him abusing me and every time I would come to school with a black eye or something else, I would always make up an excuse. I was sure she didn't believe me, but there was nothing she could do. The only person I could really be open to, the only one who I could share everything with was my mother.
I dried off, put on some new clothes and walked out. My mother was already standing there with her bag in her hand. "Come Diana, we have to go, we can't stay here."
I sighed, collected my things and we took off. This was going to be our life for a long time, on the run, nowhere to stay for too long. I had just finished high school and I had so many plans after leaving that monster behind. But now... nothing. It was as if our lives had stopped. Maybe if we went somewhere remote, somewhere alone they wouldn't find us. My mom's grandparents were farmers so we could maybe provide our own food. Maybe they wouldn't find out, or maybe they would give up looking for us. But right now, mom focused on getting away as far as possible.
We drove all day. I lost count of how many cities and villages we passed, I lost track of time. At evening we finally pulled over at another motel. It looked almost exactly the same. It had a double bed as well which meant I had to sleep next to my mom. I put on a nightgown and got into bed and short after my mom joined me.
"Good night mom."
"Good night honey."
The room was a bit lit up from a light post outside. I could still see the features in my mom's face and I noticed her eyes were watering again. The body. Blood. The picture flashed before me again. I don't know how long I rolled around. I couldn't sleep. I curled up, I was sweating, scared. Body. Blood. Rape. Whore. Bitch. Skank. Tears were forming. Get out of my head! I felt so alone.
I hesitated a first but finally spoke. "Mom? Mom, are you awake?"
"Mom... I can't sleep, I'm scared. Can I... can I hold you?"
She pulled me on top of her and hugged me. "Of course honey. You can hold me whenever you want."
The warmth and touch of her body made me feel safer. She softly caressed my hair and put her other arm around my waist to protect me. And then, without knowing why, I quickly kissed her on the lips and rested my head on her breasts. "Thanks mom." And not long after I fell asleep.
It wasn't the best night of sleep I ever had. My dreams were both good and bad. I dreamt about school, about friends and about dressing up but then it turned to a hand, a fist coming at me. Names shouting in my ears, rape. But then, as if she was talking to me, I heard my mother's voice whispering and the nightmare went away.
Body... My eyes shot open. I was shaking and scared, not realizing at first where I was. My whole body was wet and my mother's nightgown and mine were drenched in my sweat. I wanted to move, but I was too afraid. A noise, outside. I rolled of my mother and curled up under the sheets, crying. ...You want to be a bitch, well then get fucked like a bitch, you whore! I put my hands on my ears and shut my eyes as hard as I could. No, get out of my head! Leave me alone you monster! Sweating, crying, shaking.
Then, hands around me and a body close to mine. I cried onto my mother's chest. I failed, I wanted to be strong for her, but I failed. "The voices, the images... they won't go away mom."
"Shh shh, don't worry baby, mommie's here. It's all right, everything is all right." She wiggled me like trying to put a baby to sleep. "Listen to my voice honey. Think happy thoughts."
"I can't mom. I... I..."
"Think about Liz honey, think about that birthday party."
I grabbed her sides and concentrated. Years ago, Liz, ball pit, laughing. My crying gradually stopped and the voices disappeared. "Thanks mom."
She didn't say anything, she just held me close. She protected me like I wanted to protect her. She pulled away a bit to look at me. She smiled and wiped my tears away. Her fingers felt so tender on my cheeks, her lips seemed so soft... and then my head was moving. Why was my head moving? What was I doing? What was going on? My lips touched hers. She didn't react, but also didn't pull back. Why was I doing this? I had to stop but her lips were so soft, so perfect that I was drawn to them. She opened her mouth and my tongue was moving. Our tongues touched. Whore! I pulled back instantly. We crossed eyes for a split second before I ran to the bathroom, hand over my ears, crying again. I quickly locked the door. What was wrong with me?
"Diana? Diana, please open the door honey." My mom knocked on the door. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, please open up."
I crawled to the farthest corner of the room, pulled my legs against my body and put my head on my knees. Tears were running down my thighs as the fell from my cheeks. Not because of my mom, not because of what just happened but because of the voices. They screamed at me, pushed me down, laughed at me, degraded me. My mom knocked on the door for a very long time before giving up. I didn't go out. I couldn't. I sat there for God only knew how long. It could have been days, years or it could have been seconds. I managed to get up and to walk to the sink. I filled it with ice cold water and splashed it over my face. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red of all the crying, but the left side was healing rather quickly. My cheek was already normal size, my black eye had healed a little and the cut in my lip was nowhere to be seen. I dried my face off but it still hurt.
I opened the door and saw my mother sleeping on the floor with a picture in her hands. I gently took it out of her hands and looked at it. I chuckled. It was a picture of me the first time I tried on her clothes. Bra too big, her dress was draped across the floor, shoes too big. It brought a tear to my eye, this time a tear of happiness. She was the one who always supported me, who was always there for me.
"Diana," my mom had woken up and was already up, "I'm so sorry about what happened. I..."
I waved and cut her off. "No mom, don't be. It was my fault not yours. I acted, I took the initiative."
She smiled. "Why did you kiss me sweetie?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, you kissed me after I washed you but you probably don't remember that and when I was scared and crying you held me so close and protected me... I mean you always stood by me, always supported me, always believed in me. You were the one who loved me and... I don't know I guess I just couldn't resist. I mean you're so pretty and..."