Charlie Comes Home Pt. 01

Warning. Incest. Manipulation. Amputee. Mother and huge cocked son are just a few of the tags in this story. It's purely fictional. Please forgive any grammatical errors. I write for pleasure rather than accuracy. I'm considering a further part if there's enough interest. Hope you enjoy.

Claire Simpson looked at her reflection in the bedroom mirror and took a deep breath. '12 years,' she thought to herself, nervously running the brush through her long brunette hair, recognising the familiar sadness in her brown eyes. It was all she saw whenever she looked at herself. Sadness. Sadness, tinged with guilt. It was difficult to remember the last time she felt truly happy. Guilt and sorrow were the only emotions she'd felt for 12 long years........ever since the accident.

Her life had been idyllic. Her husband, Charles, had been a very successful stockbroker and they'd married when she was 23 years old, 5 years after their first date. He had been her one and only lover. They had a beautiful 5 bedroom detached home in the suburbs. The 2 acre gardens were immaculately maintained, as was the house. His income made it possible to employ a gardener and a housekeeper come chef, allowing Claire to concentrate on her one true vocation. She was a concert violinist and she was good. Very good. By the age of 30, she'd travelled the world, performing in some of the best venues and had become internationally recognised.

They hadn't planned for a child, but when their son came along, she'd doted on him as any mother would. They named him Charlie, after his father. Travelling made it difficult, so they'd employed a live in nanny, gave him everything a child could wish for and sent him to the best schools. By the time he was 8 years old it was clear Charlie was an intelligent and well adjusted child. He had a bright future ahead of him.

Then the accident happened.

It had been a warm summers day that Sunday, so the Simpsons had driven to the countryside to enjoy a family picinic. They'd had a lovely day and after they packed hamper and blankets into the Range Rover, Claire had climbed into the driver's seat. The country roads were winding, but quiet. Charlie was was listening to music on his headphones in the rear behind his father, who was reading through some reports for work. Then WHACK! Out of nowhere they were hit by a tractor on the passenger side, the Ranger Rover was toppling uncontrollably and everything went black.

When she awoke, Claire was aware of the emergency services, but kept fading in and out of consciousness. Then she was in an ambulance. Then she was in a hospital frantically asking the doctor after Charles and her son. Amazingly she had suffered barely a scratch. No broken bones. Not even whiplash. Just some mild concussion the doctor told her, before finally breaking the bad news.

Charles had suffered catastrophic injuries and died almost instantly, the doctor explained sympathetically. "He probably didn't feel a thing Mrs Simpson," he'd told her, well practiced at delivering such sad news. "Your son is undergoing surgery, but he's alive," he'd said, but his eyes were downcast. "He's in critical condition Mrs Simpson, but we're hopeful."

Claire's grief for her husband was surpassed by the worry for her son. His injuries were many and after he was finally wheeled into the critical care unit, she was updated. All 4 of his young limbs had been so badly damaged they'd needed to amputate. His legs from above the knees and his arms from the elbows. Not only that. He'd suffered a traumatic brain injury too and to give him the best chance of survival, would need to be kept in an induced coma. Nobody could tell her for how long.

Claire barely remembered the following 18 months. The funeral for Charles was arranged by his parents along with all their finances. She spent most of her time in hospital to be near Charlie until after 3 months, he was brought out of his coma. She recalled the relief, however it was just the beginning of a long road to recovery and Claire wasn't able to cope. Charlie had changed. The brain injury left him psychologically damaged and eventually, regretfully, she put him into full time care. The best she could afford.

The accident wasn't her fault, yet the guilt she felt never left her. Survivors guilt she was told. It didn't make her feel any better. She formulated a long term plan and dedicated herself to it. She never remarried or even went on dates. Charles would forever be her one and only love. There was only one thing on her mind. One person. All her hard work and diligent planning had come to this point. After 12 years of rehabilitation, therapy and care, Charlie was coming home.

She was, of course, happy. Her objectives has been realised and at 50 years of age, she could now devote herself to her son and care for him without having to worry financially. She was, however, nervous.

In spite of regular visits, Charlie was almost a stranger. The once well adjusted child had suffered immeasurably. The physical aspect was much easier to deal with than the psychological effects of his brain injury. Charlie lacked empathy. He was emotionally cold and was prone to bouts of aggression and bad temper, both physical and verbal. Alongside this, as he went puberty, he became sexually inappropriate, making unwanted foul mouthed and obscene advances to the female nurses. It was part of his condition, the consultant had explained. At the age of 16, it had become so bad that the female carers and nurses refused to deal with him, so he'd been assigned male carers. Even so, his behaviour hadn't changed much. That was until at 18, Joshua was assigned to care for him.

He was a young man of 25, but whatever it was that Joshua did, Charlie began to respond positively. His psychotherapy began to work, his temper tantrums came less often and even his sexually inappropriate behaviour seemed to be under control.........to some extent at least.

Yes, for Charlie, Joshua was a godsend. He remembered their first day together and the look on Joshua's face when he came to bathe him for the first time. Whatever physical and mental torture Charlie had been put through, God had gifted him. Gifted him with a cock the size of a horse. Like divine intervention for the loss of his limbs. When erect, it stood at 11 and a half inches long and 9 and a quarter inches in girth. He knew this because Joshua had later, lovingly measured him. His balls were equally huge and swunk heavily within the sack of his scrotum. His genitals looked absurdly large in comparison to his skinny, mutilated body. Even flaccid, his cock was only a couple of inches shorter than his legs.

For Joshua too, a young gay man, Charlie was a godsend. He was simultaneously shocked and overwhelmed by the sight of Charlie's horse cock when he first laid eyes on it. It was barely a few days later before he introduced Charlie to the delights of being masturbated. The resultant ejaculaton was of mammoth proportions and Joshua soon realised it was not a one off. Charlie was bordering on hyperspermia and regularly shot upwards of 14 or 15 long and powerful spurts of the creamy stuff. It was truly a sight to behold to watch Charlie ejaculate. Needless to say, their friendship developed at a rapid pace. Charlie was finally able to release the pent up frustrations of enforced abstinence. It went a long way to easing his psychological issues, but not fully.

Still, Joshua had no issues with the obscene verbal rhetoric spewing from Charlie's mouth. If anything it just spurred him on. Soon he was sucking on that monster cock and avocado sized balls at every opportunity. Sometimes as often as thrice daily. Charlie was extremely virile and needed release often. He never did quite manage to swallow everything that Charlie squirted, there was just too much and too powerful, but he delighted in trying. He taught Charlie that his huge cock was a rarity and something to be proud of and even though he wasn't gay, there would be plenty of women and men who be only too glad to bed him.

"Once they see that fucking horse cock," he would grin dreamily from his prone position between Charlies stumps. "They'll want it the same way I do."

He shaved Charlie. He pampered Charlie. He bathed him and made Charlie feel as if he were a God. He taught Charlie how to use the internet and soon he was able to experience the wonderful and perverted world of pornography..........and Charlie became addicted. He was enthralled with the variety, the kinks and the fetishes that played out in front of his eager eyes. Joshua was right too. He quickly realised that even the biggest porn star cocks he saw, rarely matched him for size. They definitely didn't come close to his huge ejaculations. The thing he revelled in most of all? The women. All shapes, sizes, colours and looks. They all had his massive cock hard and he longed for more than Joshua's hands and mouth. He longed for the touch of a woman and the only woman who came anywhere near him anymore, was his mother.

By the age of 20, he could get around on his prosthetic legs quite easily, but his artificial arms and hands were only good for a few things and it frustrated him. He was pretty much able to control his outbursts, but not completely. They would come and go randomly, especially when he was frustrated. He was aware that most everyone gave in when he lost his temper, choosing to give him what he wanted rather than go through the hassle of denying him. It was a lesson he never forgot and with his lack of empathy, he took advantage of often. Charlie liked to get his own way.

When his mother came to collect him, he appraised her like an object. Like the women he saw on the internet. She was petite at 5'4" tall. Slim, bordering on skinny, with small tight buttocks in her black leggings and tiny 'A" cup tits, hardly noticeable under her white T-shirt. Still, he noted, her nipples were very large. They stuck out like thumbs. He couldn't help but smirk as he thought of chewing on them. For a 50 year old woman, she looked kind of cute with big dark eyes and pert nose. Her mouth was small though. Too small.

There had been many times he'd fantasised about her while Joshua tended to his cock. Those fantasies were often dark and kinky. He'd blamed his circumstances on her many times, but deep down he knew it wasn't her fault. However, he couldn't help but want her to pay sometimes. She'd left him in care for 12 fucking years. Fucking bitch. Nonetheless, he greeted her warmly, feeling her bullet-like teats pressing against his chest when she hugged him lovingly.

"Hey mum," he smiled at her, before kissing her soft cheek. She smelled good, but her make up was minimal. He didn't like that. Charlie preferred the make up the women wore in the porn videos he watched.

"Hey baby," Claire greeted him, thankful that he seemed in good spirits. He liked it when she called him that. "Let's get you in the car. Then I'll get your bags."

"I would have thought you'd have come by taxi," he muttered gruffly, unable to stop himself. "Remember what happened the last time you drove me?"

Claire was used to his cutting remarks, but it still hurt. "We've been through this before Charlie," she responded positively, but he could see the guilt in her eyes.

"Yeah, sorry mum," he said. "I didn't mean it. You know I can't help it," he smiled.

So she took him to the car and started to help him in. He smacked her hand away forcefully. "I'm not a total fucking cripple mother!" he snapped. "I can get in a fucking car without help you know."

It was something Claire knew she would have to get used to and she was fully prepared for the difficulties that lay ahead. This day was, after all, the one she'd planned for and worked towards for so many years. "Ok baby," she said with no animosity. "You settle in while I get your things."

Claire was constantly on edge during the journey home, not helped by Charlie's comments, telling her to "be careful mother" or "slow down." She appreciated it must be frightening for him, but even so her nerves were frayed by the time she pulled into the driveway.

"I've had the annex remodelled for you baby," she explained cheerfully once they were indoors. "I thought it would be easier for you rather than having to climb the stairs."

His mother had done a good job too. Charlie realised he had everything he needed in his own space. Large flat screen TV, smart speakers and desktop PC with widescreen monitor were just a few of the things that caught his eye. He had his own living area, separate bedroom, large wardrobe and huge walk-in shower kitted out with support rails and bench.

"Wow. This is great mum," he told her, genuinely impressed with what she'd done for him. He wondered if she really meant it when she said "Anything for my baby," before telling him to settle in while she got his bags from the car.

He decided to test her. "I need to piss," he announced casually, when she returned. "You do understand you'll have to help me, mother?" he lied.

She didn't. Claire, thought he was able to use the toilet by himself. She was certain that's what she'd been told, but maybe she'd been wrong. "So what do I need to do, baby?" she asked hesitantly, preferring not to challenge him.

"Stand to my side and unzip me," he explained carefully, in front of the toilet "Then take my cock out and hold it," he smirked. "Make sure you point it at the bowl mum, I'll do the rest," he laughed and Claire laughed with him......nervously.

"I'd prefer you to call it your 'penis' rather than......" she began. She really didn't like his use of coarse language, but he snapped at her.

"For fucks sake mother! It's a cock," he hissed. "Now hurry up or I'm gonna piss my fucking shorts."

She fumbled with the zipper, hands shaking, then reached inside. Charlie watched her face carefully, remembering the look in Joshua's eyes when he first saw his cock. He wasn't disappointed.

"What's wrong mother," he asked innocently. Despite her efforts to remain calm, he saw the look of shock on his mother's face, before looking down to the small dainty hand wrapped around his girth.

"N...nothing baby," she stammered. She couldn't actually believe her own eyes. Even with her whole hand holding him, there must have been 5 inches of thick flesh protruding beyond her grip. Her son's limp penis was twice as long as her late husband's fully erect member, the only other penis she had ever known. Not only that, Claire's finger's didn't meet. She was astonished that a penis could be so large.

Charlie smirked. "You'll need to hold it further down mum," he advised. "And pull the foreskin back a little, otherwise my piss will spray everywhere."

Claire was flustered, visibly blushing. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and on her neck, but fought back the feelings rising in her tummy......and lower. 'This is your son!' she reminded herself. 'He just needs to urinate and it's your job to care for him now. Get a grip Claire Simpson!' she thought. Yet her eyes were fixated on the huge tube of flesh stretching her hand as she followed Charlies directions, moving her grip further down the shaft. She'd never actually masturbated her late husband, so when she pulled her hand back, she did so a little too far. Her eyes widened as the velvet-like skin rolled back to fully expose her son's equally huge pink glans.

Claire forced herself to look away. "Am I......is this......am I doing it right Charlie?" she asked.

He was as engrossed in the act as his mother. The sight of her well manicured tiny hand on his huge cock was mesmerising. Her thumb resting just beneath the wide flair of his helmet caused him to thicken slightly. "Yeah, that's right mum," he said, catching his breath momentarily. "But you need to look at what you're doing. Aim it towards to bowl."

She turned to look just in time, feeling the surge of his urine in the palm of her hand and guided the thick stream of golden liquid towards the toilet water. Claire wondered if she would ever get used to it. Everything about it went against her strict upbringing, but she knew she had to do whatever was necessary to care for Charlie and if that meant helping him urinate, then so be it.

"You're doing great mum," Charlie encouraged and Claire felt a small sense of pride. She focused on the task fully, until the stream weakened and then stopped.

Moving to let go, Charlie snapped. "I haven't fucking finished yet mother!"

"Sorry baby," she said apologetically, renewing her grip as the monster in her hand flexed to squeeze out 4 more jets of liquid. Again, Claire relaxed her grip.

"Jesus fucking Christ mother!" he shouted. "Are you fucking stupid? You need to squeeze the rest out, otherwise I'll have piss leaking into my shorts."

Embarrassed, but not completely shocked by the outburst, Claire did as her son told her, squeezing the thick tube of meat as if milking a cow. Fearing another tantrum, she ignored the droplets of urine that coated her fingers even though it disgusted her.

"Yeah, that's it mum," Charlie told her, his tone more relaxed. "Make sure you roll the foreskin forward before putting me away," he added.

Quickly washing her hands afterwards, she couldn't help the revulsion in her stomach and Charlie noticed. "Best get used to it, mother," he said coldly.

Of course, Charlie could have told her that he could go to the toilet by himself. He could have explained that the only help he needed was undoing and rezipping his shorts afterwards, but that wasn't what he wanted. Charlie wanted to feel the touch of a woman on his cock. He wanted to know how far he could push his mother. Test her resolve. Prove her commitment to caring for him. Most of all, he wanted her to see his cock.

The rest of the day went pretty well for Claire. Charlie listened as she went through her routines. She was no domestic goddess, but Claire had learned to cook in readiness for his return home. A cleaner, Rose, came in 4 times a week. Whilst she had effectively retired, Claire still played her violin, but only at home.

"I did consider tutoring," she explained. "But only when we're more settled and only if you're happy baby," she added, keen to maintain equilibrium.

Charlie heard what she said. Only if he was happy.

At bedtime, Claire helped him with his prosthetic limbs, anxiously anticipating having to undress him.

"Well I can't do it myself mother," he said casually, hiding his keenness to be naked in front of her. "I usually sleep naked."

As Claire removed his T-shirt, she was reminded of how much Charlie resembled his father with the same dark hair and bright blue eyes. There was something in his gaze though. He lacked emotion and it unnerved her. His torso was slim, skinny even and smooth. In fact he was hairless, even his armpits, which surprised her. Then she nervously removed his shorts and underpants in one go. God, he was hairless there too. His size was even more of a shock now that his genitals were completely exposed. His scrotum was huge, with massive testicles and his penis was nearly as long as his short legs. She actually gasped.

"Oh yeah," he said as he lay his head on the pillows. "You'll have to learn to shave me mother."

He saw her nipples harden and her face flush. "But....." she began to say.

"But fucking nothing mother," he interrupted. "Joshua had no problem shaving me."

Claire really wasn't sure she liked the idea of doing something so intimate, but if his carer could, then she could too. She was determined to make sure her son was as well cared for as he'd been for the last 12 years.......if not better.

After tucking him in, she kissed his forehead and pointed to a large red button on the wall to his left. "Just press the button if you need anything baby," she said softly, stroking his hair. "I'm so glad you're home. I love you Charlie Simpson."