tagIncest/TabooA New Man of the House

A New Man of the House


A big thanks to ghostprincess36 & DrBisensual for editing this.


Chapter 1 -- A Discussion over Dinner.

Monday. December 7th. 5:47 PM.

Al couldn't hide his disgust as he sat at the kitchen table. Was he officially one of those guys? Was he now married to a woman who'd completely given up? His worst nightmare had become a reality.

"Why wouldn't you ask for my opinion first?"

Kelly checked the chicken and rice soup on the stove before glancing back at her husband. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission."

"Kelly, I'm your husband," he told her while shaking his head. "I should have a say in this. You need to let it grow back."

The forty-two-year-old mother of one didn't see the problem with her new haircut. She'd been thinking about it for a while, and finally decided to go for it at the salon earlier. Her previously long, blonde hair was exhausting to maintain. She worked forty hours a week, ran a household, and took care of everything her husband put off, and now she had a short pixie cut which would take minutes to wash and style, versus the hassle of dealing with her former long locks.

Al thought a thirteen-year-old boy was standing in the kitchen when he arrived home from work ten minutes ago. His wife's hair didn't even cover her ears! The left side sat high on her head, before swooping down across her forehead and ending just above her right eyebrow. It was awful! Her blue eyes didn't even pop anymore. And the idea of looking at her during sex with causing his stomach to churn. He loved pulling on her long hair, and now he didn't have anything to grab onto!

"It's my hair and it's my decision," she stated. "Don't like it? Well, tough shit. Maybe you'll get used to it."

His eyes couldn't leave that horrific haircut. He wanted to go down to whatever salon she went to and slap the stylist who massacred that gorgeous blonde hair. But his real problem was the fact he wasn't consulted on the subject.

"I should have just as much of a say in this as you do. I'm the one who has to look at it all day! Not you! What you did was incredibly selfish."

"Selfish?" she snickered. "You should be the last one to accuse anyone of being selfish."

His eyebrows perked up. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey, Dad."

Al turned to see his eighteen-year-old son, Mike, walk into the kitchen with his basketball bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, Mike," he greeted him back.

The teen plopped his bag down on the table before glancing over at his mother. "Hey, Mom. Whatcha making-whoa!"

Kelly gingerly smiled at her son.

"When did this happen?" Mike asked, pointing at her head.

"A few hours ago," she answered.

A big smile grew on his face. "It looks great!"

"Really!?" she excitedly asked.

He took a seat at the table next to his father. The six foot tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed high school senior was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a gray hoodie despite it being fifteen degrees outside with light snow showers. It drove his mother crazy how he refused to wear a coat or even pants on his way home from practice, but hey, he was stuck in his ways.

"Absolutely. Listen, I love long hair, but that is like my second favorite hairstyle. What's it called?"

"A pixie cut," she told him with a big smile.

"I love it," he reiterated. "It looks awesome on you."

Kelly's eyes shot over to her husband who looked like he'd just smelled a skunk. "Well, would you look at that? Mike loves it."

Al turned to his son. "Are you kidding me?"

"Excuse me?" Mike asked.

"You love it?" Al inquired again. "Are you serious? It's looks awful!"

"Jesus, Dad... Mom is standing right there!"

"I don't care," he huffed, "I can't stand it. It doesn't look feminine at all. I feel like I'm married to a guy!"

Mike's attention shifted back to his mother. "Don't listen to him. I really love it."

She smiled again before checking the pot of soup on the stove.

"Will you stop kissing her ass?" Dad groaned. "You know, you always were a mama's boy."

"I'm not a mama's boy!" he protested. "I'm just being honest. Mom looks great. Are you seriously telling me that you don't like her hair?"

"I'm disgusted by it."

"You don't have to be an asshole," he told his father.

Al shook his head. "I'm not being an asshole. Everyone in her life tells her how great she is all the time and that's why she does shit like this. Mom needs some honesty, and it honestly looks awful. I loved her hair! It was the best part about her, and now that shit is gone and I didn't even have a say in the matter! It isn't right."

Mike was stunned. "Dad, it's her hair. She should be able to do whatever she wants with it."

"Bullshit," the forty-five-year-old father protested. "My opinion should matter just as much as hers."

The two men glanced up to see Kelly placing a bowl of soup in front of each of them. "I don't think I should have to ask permission to get a haircut."

"That's not a haircut," Al sighed. "That's a fuckin' holocaust."

Mike rolled his eyes and watched his mother make her way to the table with a bowl of soup in hand for herself. "Could you be more dramatic, Dad? A holocaust?"

"It is," he firmly stated as his wife took a seat directly across the table. "I don't even have an appetite."

The high school senior caught his mother's attention before she raised her first spoonful of dinner to her lips. "Well, I think you look beautiful."

Her spoon tilted and the soup went pouring back into the bowl. "What?"

"I think you look beautiful," he nonchalantly repeated before helping himself to some of his meal.

"That's the last thing she needs to hear," Al groaned. "She'll stop wearing makeup next."

He peered over at his father. "Okay, fine, you don't like her haircut. That's your opinion. But let's be honest with each other here. You're still batting way out of your league."

Al looked up from his soup. "Excuse me?"

"You're batting way out of your league," he repeated.

Dad wasn't following. "What does that mean?"

"I seriously have to explain this?" Mike asked. "Okay, fine. Dad, Mom's like a ten. She's a knockout. And I mean, I don't know what happened back in the day that resulted in you getting her, but you should be counting your lucky stars that you somehow did."

Kelly had yet to enjoy a single spoonful of her dinner. She was still glowing from being called beautiful just moments ago. Her hands felt weak as she placed her eating utensil down on the wooden surface of the kitchen table. It was constant criticism from Al. Everything she did was either wrong or stupid. Living with him had become a drain on her, but Mike always made things better. Not like this though. She couldn't remember the last time someone complimented her looks, and she found herself wanting to bask in it.

Al didn't share his son's opinion. "I should be counting my lucky stars? Are you kidding me? Your mother should be the one who's thanking God for ending up with me."

Mike raised his eyebrows.

"She should be!" Al loudly declared. "Look around! She has this great life because of me! Not to mention that she's married to a stud."

Kelly snickered.

His eyes shifted to his wife. "You should see what the guys I work with look like. They're a bunch of fuckin' slobs. Do I look like I did when I was twenty-five? No, but I think you're pretty fuckin' lucky, Kelly!"

She observed her husband's thinning hair before moving down to his big beer belly. She definitely didn't see what Al saw when he looked in the mirror. She saw a balding, overweight guy who didn't help out around the house at all. In fact, Mike took care of all the manly stuff like lawn maintenance and minor home repairs. Al was more than happy to grab a few beers after work, head on in to the family room, and plop his ass down on the couch in front of the TV for the next four hours. And don't even get her started on their sex life. As selfish as he was in everyday life, his narcissism was tenfold when it came to the bedroom. She wouldn't even be able to tell you the last time she received oral sex.

"Yeah, I'm a real lucky girl..." she sarcastically said.

"Damn right you are," Al added, not picking up on the joke whatsoever. "I'm the catch in this relationship."

Mike was flabbergasted as he looked up from his bowl. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not joking," Al instantly reiterated. "Your mother is married to a successful, funny, good-looking stud."

Kelly and Mike exchanged baffled glances.

"Dad, Mom looks better than ninety-nine percent of the girls at my school."

Al burst out into laughter. "Okay, now I know you're fucking with me!"

"I'm not fucking with you," Mike calmly protested. "I'm telling you the truth."

"Son, you can't fight age. Eighteen is eighteen. No guy is taking a forty-two-year-old over some eighteen-year-old hottie."

"According to who?" the teen asked. "You?"

Al shot his son a confused look. "You can't think straight because you're surrounded by seventeen and eighteen-year-old cuties all-day, so when you see an older woman, she looks good to you because it's something different. But you would never actually pick an older woman over one of your classmates."

"I absolutely would."

Al smirked at his wife, "This kid needs a drug test."

Mike dropped his spoon into his soup bowl. "Can I be honest for a minute?"

"You weren't already being honest?" he asked his son.

"No, I was," the three-star athlete replied, "but I mean really honest."

"You know how it works in this house," Al told him. "You're free to say whatever you want. You don't have to censor yourself."

Mike turned his attention to his mother. "And you're okay with that?"

She was still somewhat loopy thanks to his beautiful comment from earlier, but she was finally coming back down to earth. "Sure."

"I mean, it's about you," he said. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"You can say whatever you want, baby," Kelly smiled.

Mike looked his father dead in the eyes. "You're married to the most perfect woman on the planet."

Al rolled his eyes while Kelly lost her breath. The parents were only six feet apart, sitting at opposing ends of the kitchen table, but their reactions couldn't have been more different.

"First off," Mike started, "let's talk about her personality. Mom isn't like any other woman I've ever met. She's kind, and caring, and she always puts others first. Even strangers! It's unbelievable to me. You should see the way girls my age act. They're narcissistic and self-obsessed, but Mom is the complete opposite. I've never met someone who always thinks about everyone else the way she does."

Kelly's jaw was on the floor.

"And she's super fun to be around. She's easy to talk to—unlike most women, she can take a joke, and she loves to bust balls. I mean, what girl is like that? Most guys aren't even that way!"

Al didn't look impressed.

"And it's the nurturing side of her that really stands out. What about when either of us get sick? It's like we have our own personal nurse in the house. She cooks us anything we ask for, she's always waiting on our requests, and all she wants is for us to get better. But that just sums up the kind of person she is. She's always trying to improve the lives of others. She's a saint!"

Mike flashed his mother a quick smile before turning back to his father. Kelly was stunned.

"Now, Dad, that would be enough as-is to make you one of the luckiest guys to ever live. I mean, pretty much every dude would think they hit the lottery if they had a girl with those traits, but if all that isn't enough, then we get to the way she looks."

Her eyes had been locked on her son throughout the entirety of his speech, and now her heart was beginning to race. That was the single greatest minute of her life, and now he was going to talk about her looks? She's his mother! But the woman in her wanted him to keep going.

"I mean, she's attractive," Al chimed in.

"Attractive?" Mike laughed. "Really? That's how you would label her? Dad, she's a knockout."

He instantly rolled his eyes. "A knockout? Jesus, relax with the exaggerations."

"You don't think Mom's a knockout?"

Al shook his head.

"Well, what's a knockout to you then?"

"A supermodel is a knockout," Al told him. "Like a Victoria's Secret model or something, and, son, your mother is no Victoria's Secret model."

"Those chicks are gross."

Al was astonished. "What did you just say?"

"Those chicks are gross," Mike repeated. "Who the hell wants a Victoria's Secret model? They're like six feet tall and weigh ninety pounds. It's disgusting."

"Are you crazy!?" shouted Al. "Those girls are stunning!"

Mike peered over at his mother who had an awestruck expression plastered on her face. "Stand up."



Kelly snapped to attention. "What?"

"Stand up," Mike repeated.

She slowly rose from her seat, and stood in front of the table wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a long sleeve gray shirt.

"Are we looking at the same thing here?" he asked his father.

"I see a forty-two-year-old woman with a rather unattractive haircut."

Mike shook his head, his eyes never leaving his mother. "I see a knockout."

"God, I fuckin' hate that haircut..." Al muttered under his breath.

Mike pretended to ignore his dad's comment. "Okay, so, let's start at the top. Now, I was a fan of her long hair like you were, and I know we don't see eye to eye when it comes to her new style, but most guys would tell you that Mom has really sexy hair. I mean, who doesn't love a blonde, right? But, Dad, it's the eyes. Those blue eyes are dazzling. And she could easily pass for thirty. You do realize you're married to a blonde-haired, blue-eyed stunner, don't you? That's pretty much every guy's dream."

Kelly's right hand gripped her chair in an attempt to keep herself upright. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

Once again, Al was unimpressed.

"Total honesty, right?" Mike asked.

"Total honesty," Al nodded.

His eyes moved down his mother. "I mean, come on, Dad..."

He peered over at his son, waiting for him to continue.

"Mom has amazing...umm...amazing—"

"Tits," Al jumped in with a laugh.

The sound of Mike laughing along with his father swiftly filled the kitchen. "Well, I guess there's no reason to be shy. Yeah, Mom has great boobs."

Kelly's cheeks turned bright red.

"I can't argue that," Al agreed.

"Okay, now we're at probably the second most impressive part of her," Mike continued. "Her stomach and hips. Do you realize what the average forty-two-year-old woman looks like? Newsflash, Dad, it doesn't look like that. How often are you in the gym, Mom?"

"I try to go at least three days a week," she meekly answered.

"She busts her ass in the gym three days a week, she eats healthy, and she does it all so she looks great for you," Mike continued. "How in the world can't you appreciate that?"

"Hey, I'm not too bad to look at myself," Al countered.

He eyed his pudgy, out of shape father, and quickly found himself once again confused by his irrational and undeserved confidence.

Mike pointed at his mother. "Now, most guys would see this and be drooling, but do you want to know what the craziest part is? Mom, turn around."

Kelly followed her son's order so her back was now facing the table.

"I mean, Jesus Christ..." the teen groaned. "She's unreal."

"What?" Al asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Are we not looking at the same thing?" Mike inquired.

His father raised his eyebrows. "Umm, I'm looking at what appears to be a twelve-year-old blonde boy."

"Will you stop!?" Mike laughed. "Dad, look at that ass."

Kelly gasped.

"It's big," Al commented.

"Fuckin' right it is," Mike grunted through clenched teeth.

Kelly glanced back to find Mike with his focus solely locked on her backside. Was this really happening? Was her son breaking down her body piece by piece to try to make his father see what he saw? She could've taken a million guesses at what would've been discussed over dinner tonight, and she never would've come up with this.

"So, I see a dykey haircut and a big ass."

Mike shook his head in disagreement. "Dad, that's a perfect ass."

Al pulled out his phone. "Give me a second. I'll show you what a perfect ass really looks like."

She didn't need to turn around to know her son's eyes were still glued on her butt. She could sense it. She could feel his energy and she didn't want it to leave. Kelly wanted to soak up every drop of attention coming from the eighteen-year-old stud behind her.

"Here," he told his son before handing him his phone, "now those girls have perfect bodies."

A few moments of silence passed.

"You're crazy."

Al laughed before looking at him once again. "Excuse me?"

"I said that you're crazy," Mike repeated. "I'm going through these pictures and I don't see one girl who looks better than Mom."

"Will you give me a break!?" his father shouted. "Seriously, stop kissing her ass! She gets more than enough attention. She doesn't need you fawning over her."

"I'm not fawning over her!" Mike rejected his dad's accusation. "I see girls like this at school every day. There's nothing special about a chick with her rib cage sticking out."

Al opened his mouth but was quickly cut-off by his son. "Mom, look at this."

Kelly turned around and moved next to Mike's seat. Her son handed her Al's phone.

"Dad thinks these girls look better than you."

Her eyes hit the screen as she scrolled through the pictures with her index finger. She saw beautiful, gorgeous women dressed in an array of lingerie and swimsuits, posing on exotic beaches and in seductive bedrooms. Their bodies were tight, their stomachs toned, and their skin was flawless. She immediately grew insecure.

"Umm, sweetheart...these are professional models..."

The teen wasn't following. "And?"

"Baby, these women are stunning."

Al finally agreed with his wife for the first time today. "Exactly! Even your mother sees it!"

Mike gazed up into his mom's vivid blue eyes. "Really? Mom, don't sell yourself short. You look just as good as any of those girls."

Her eyes glanced back down at the phone. There was a perky blonde who appeared to be in her early twenties, in stunning white lingerie, posing on a bed which was covered in smooth white sheets. Even Kelly wouldn't rule out having a little fun with college-aged knockout if Al was on board with it. The model was that beautiful.

"I don't look like these girls."

"Yes, you do," Mike instantly rebutted. He was growing visibly more frustrated as he took his father's phone back and handed it to him. "Dad, pull up a picture of a girl in yoga pants that you find sexy."

Al fiddled around on his smartphone for a few moments before handing the device back to his son.

Mike's brow furrowed. "Really? This?"

"Absolutely," Dad told him. "That's like the hottest picture ever."

The high school senior looked back at the picture on the phone. The brunette was probably eighteen or nineteen and posing with her back to the bathroom mirror. She was holding her phone over her shoulder so she could capture the reflection of her butt. It was nice, but it wasn't anything great. She had a cute, perky backside, but he wouldn't look twice if this girl walked past him.

He pointed at his mother's seat. "Go back over there like before."

Kelly strutted to her chair and turned so her back was facing the men at the table.

He looked at the picture once again before glancing back at his mother. "Okay, put most of your weight on your left leg and bend your right knee slightly."

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