Charlie Comes Home Pt. 02

Part 2 continues in the same vein. A slow burner. It's purely fictional. It's not meant to reflect reality. If stories about incest, amputees, coercion, manipulation, verbal abuse and humiliation upset you, click back.

In her bedroom, Claire dumped the semen covered clothes on the floor. They were a mess. As she laid out fresh leggings, a T-shirt and panties on her bed, the scent of Charlie's sperm hung in the air, making her feel quite light headed. Claire had never smelled anything quite like it in her life. She just couldn't stop herself gathering up the sodden T-shirt and holding it to her nose. Breathing in large lungfuls, Claire had no words to describe the odour, but the physical reaction was very powerful. Without even thinking, she found herself sucking at the still wet cloth and savouring the pungent flavour of her son's ejaculate with eyes closed. For a few dreamlike moments she was lost in time, until reality returned with a jolt. Shaking her head in denial, Claire dropped the garment as if she'd been burned.

Charlie had suggested she be naked the next time and even though she knew it was wrong on so many levels, she also knew there would be a "next time." Many more "next times" too. That line had already been crossed and in her mind, there was no turning back. Besides, it was her duty. Just another part of caring for him. Did other mothers in similar situations do the same thing? And if so, did they also experience sexual excitement? The same excitement she was feeling? Claire determined they probably did. It was just a physical response. Human nature. It was how she dealt with it that mattered. If Charlie never found out, she felt sure she could handle it.

She pushed the thought to one side. Instead, she found herself warmed by Charlie's thoughtfulness and concern for her and her clothes. It was a caring side to him that she hadn't witnessed much of before. She wondered if he gave Joshua similar consideration. She also wondered if she had performed better than Joshua. Charlie had produced an awful lot of semen, but she only had her late husband for comparison and even then, she'd never actually seen him ejaculate. No. She would have known. Charlie's orgasm was far greater than his father's, both in force and quantity. She couldn't help wonder if he did that much, or even more for Joshua. After all, he'd been caring for Charlie for nigh on 2 years and today had only been her first time. He'd looked so happy though, and that was what Claire wanted more than anything. To make her son happy.

Resigned to the knowledge that relieving her son would become routine, Claire decided to make sure she was better than Joshua. She really hated the thought that Charlie liked him more than her. She would do her utmost to make sure he forgot about Joshua. She was nothing if not determined. Claire Simpson hadn't become one of the most sought after violinists on the planet by being weak minded. She was Charlie's carer now. Not him. Not Joshua. She'd worked hard for this and she was fiercely competitive. There was nothing, absolutely nothing she wouldn't do to ensure her son's happiness.

As she dressed, she noted her still very hard nipples and the moisture between her thighs. Perhaps she should consider wearing bras and larger panties. She had some bras, but only a few. Her diminutive breast size meant she rarely wore them at all. She decided against it, they were uncomfortable to wear, but would look for different panties when she next shopped for clothes. So, dressed and with fresh make up, she made her way back downstairs.

With the webcam set up to record automatically, Charlie browsed for free website building software and when satisfied, he downloaded the one he felt best suited his needs. It would take some effort to learn how to use it, but that would give him time to build up a portfolio of videos and photos in readiness to upload. He still couldn't quite believe how easy the dumb bitch had been to manipulate and his damaged brain went into overdrive. He quickly turned the monitor off, swinging in his chair when his mother knocked and came in.

"I wondered if you fancied lunch in town, baby," Claire suggested. "There's a lovely bistro I think you'd like. Then maybe a trip to the cinema?"

Look at her! Standing there, waffling on about lunch and the cinema as if nothing had happened. As if 20 minutes ago she hadn't been on her knees wanking his spunk over her face like a whore. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. "I need a shit, mother," he told her, watching her sweet smile turn sour.

It was something Claire knew she would have to deal with, but still, the prospect made her stomach turn. After undoing his shorts, she watched him seat himself on the toilet, not certain of what was expected.

"Jesus mother," he exclaimed. "Get the fuck out. I'll call you when I need my arse cleaning."

Claire stumbled from the bathroom, dreading what was to come, yet steeling herself nonetheless. At least she'd had the foresight to have a bidet installed when having the annex converted for him.

In fact, the task wasn't as bad as Claire had anticipated. She likened it to dog owners having to clear up after their dogs. Just another part of caring for her son. She was surprised at her ability to disassociate her mind from the physical act. The bidet was a godsend, although Charlie insisted on having her "finger clean" his anus with a soapy digit.

"Yeah, that's it," he commented. "Get right in there mother. I like having a clean arsehole." Fuck. She was so dumb. Charlie grinned with satisfaction as his mother diligently fingered him causing his horse cock to swell, then watched her frantically scrubbing her hands clean. "And don't even think about getting gloves mother," he snarled. "I hate those fucking things. They make me come out in a rash," he lied. The bitch would clean him without the the comfort of latex to protect her dainty little fingers.

Once again as she pulled Charlie's shorts back up, Claire was bewildered by the size of her son's penis. It hung nearly to end of his stumps. How could he be so large when her late husband was.......well, so small by comparison. She had no time to dwell as Charlie walked out and sat in his chair, turning to look at her.

"Don't you ever wear anything but fucking T-shirts and leggings, mother?" he asked, rather catching Claire off guard. "I mean, you like a fucking skank. I thought you were supposed to be a fucking world renowned violinist for fucks sake," he mocked nastily.

Claire remained calm. "I find them comfortable to wear, baby," she explained. "Besides, I haven't really had much cause to dress up." That was very true. She really didn't dress up often. With no man in her life and her one and only goal to bring Charlie home, she'd had no reason to dress differently. Other than when she'd been performing that is, but that was different.

He appraised her, his eyes roaming up and down her petite body. "Well, I don't like it mother. You look fucking cheap and nasty," he said coldly. "Why the fuck would I want to be seen outside with a mother who doesn't fucking care what she looks like?"

Claire took a deep breath and fought back her tears. Nobody had ever criticised her like that before and it hurt badly, but she knew Charlie couldn't help it. "I'm sorry baby," she apologised softly. "What do you want me to wear?"

What a dumb fucking bitch. If he played his cards right, Charlie knew he could have her dress in anything he wanted. Just like the women on the internet. "Well, a fucking dress would be a good start mother," he sneered. "Some fucking heels too, instead of trainers. Joshua never wore trainers. Joshua always made sure he looked good......even in his shitty uniform he looked better than you."

"Ok baby. I can do that for you," Claire replied positively. She was getting tired of hearing Joshua's name. Damned if she would let it get to her. She would wipe that name from Charlie's vocabulary if it was the last thing she did. "I'll go and change."

"Oh and mother," he called out.

"Yes baby?" Claire asked, turning back to face him.

"I saw your fucking knickers earlier too," he said, screwing his face in disgust. For a moment Claire was horrified that he may have seen how damp they were. "They look like something a fucking nun would wear," he mocked. "They're fucking horrible and I don't like them."

Relieved, she relaxed a little. Claire really didn't think it had anything to do with him what panties she chose to wear, but, as was quickly becoming the norm, she capitulated. "Ok baby," she answered hesitantly. "What kind of panties do you want me to wear?"

Fuck yes! It was just too fucking easy. "Well, don't you have any thongs or gstrings? Anything but those fucking granny knickers for fuck sake, mother," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't you realise how disgusting you look in them?"

Until then, Claire hadn't thought that at all. To her, they were just panties. Even her late husband had never complained them. "I.....erm....I don't really have any panties like that, baby," she stuttered, acutely aware that Charlie's temperament was changing for the worse. "But I could always go shopping for some if you want me to. We won't be able to go to the out if I do though," she added with concern.

He never had any intention of going out. Charlie would much prefer to be browsing porn and getting ideas for his website. His cock twitched noticeably on hearing his dumb mother offering to restock her panty drawer. "I don't give a fuck about going out mother. I wouldn't be seen dead in public with you dressed like a fucking skank anyway."

Fighting back the humiliation, Claire smiled weakly. "Ok baby. I'll go and get changed."

"Thanks mum," he said softly. "I don't mean to get angry, but seeing you in that shit frustrates me, you know? You're way better than that."

Claire's heart melted. Everytime she saw him smile, she knew she was doing something right and that was all she needed. "I know baby," she said, holding his face and gently kissing his forehead. Charlie liked it when she did that. Not only because he liked her kissing him, but it gave him a close up view of her huge hard nipples as she bent forward. "All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy," she added, stroking his hair.

He fought the urge to lean forward and chew the hard fleshy nubs that stretched her T-shirt. Despite his brain damage, or maybe because of it, Charlie was extremely perceptive. He wasn't conscious of this ability. He just knew. The stupid bitch was turned on. So turned on, he could even smell her cunt.

"Love you mum," he said as she left, swinging back to face the black monitor.

These were the words Claire longed to hear. Each time he told her, she knew it was another step in the right direction. "I love you too, baby."

The screen came to life and Charlie quickly reviewed the footage. Everything had been captured in wonderful 4K brilliance. God, her stiff nipples were clear as day. Her eyes too. Did she really not know how many times she unconsciously looked at his crotch? It was perfect and with some rapid editing, the video was saved. Grabbing his phone, he made his way to the kitchen.

Claire, didn't understand why her nipples were so hard or why her panties were so damp, but as she mused over which dress to wear, she put it down to Charlie saying her loved her. It couldn't be anything else could it? Certainly not the humiliation he'd just subjected her to. His words had been laced with venom, but she knew he couldn't help it. Surely not the fact she was worried about which dress would make Charlie happy. Which dress would please him. Definitely not her capitulation in offering to go out and purchase new panties. Panties that Charlie, her son, wanted her to wear. Yet, that was exactly what she was doing.

Claire was so confused. Her comfortable life was changing. Long embedded routines had been turned upside down. Her emotions were spiralling from deep lows of hurt and humiliation, to joyful highs. All at the whim of her son. That said, the air in her room was still thick with the scent of his semen. A tangible reminder of the incestuous act she had performed for him. She forced the memory away. She was in denial and somewhere deep inside, Claire knew it.

Charlie enjoyed hearing the click click of her heels as his mother walked into the kitchen. The sensation that she'd done what he wanted made his cock swell. The simple dark blue, knee length dress she was wearing was ok. It was pretty enough, but not as short as he would have liked. Still, her nipples were hard and her heels looked good, making her legs look longer and her small round arse more prominent. The stupid bitch needed to work on her fucking makeup though. Jesus! She was actually standing there waiting for his approval. Fucking perfect!

"Wow, mum. You look great," he told her. With a wide smile, he lifted his phone to snap a photo. "So much better than cheap skanky leggings and T-shirt."

Visibly blushing, Claire relaxed. He liked it and he looked happy. Certainly happy enough to even take a photo! "Thank you baby," she purred. "And you're right. I should take more pride with my appearance," she added, moving forward to kiss his forehead. "Thank you for reminding me baby."

Priceless! "Here, let's get a selfie," he told her. "Put your arm over my shoulder, mum. Lean in and smile."

Claire stood back and watched with pride as Charlie reviewed the snapshot, his face breaking into a broad grin, unaware he'd hit the record button. "We look good together, don't you think, mum?" he said, showing her the photo.

These were the moments Claire had been dreaming of for so long. God, she could have cried. "Yes baby," she told him, stroking his hair gently.

"Still," he added, his tone changing. "You could do something about your fucking makeup. I mean, have you actually bothered at all?"

Flustered, the shared moment lost, Claire stiffened. "But I always have makeup on, baby," she explained, watching his eyes roll in apathy.

"You call THAT make up?!" he shouted. "You stupid fucking cunt," he hissed, face turning red. "Where's the eye shadow, mother? Where's the fucking lipstick? Don't you fucking care what you look like?!" he screamed, gasping for air. "What's the point of wearing a nice dress if you can't be fucking bothered with your stupid fucking face. Fuck me! I bet you're even still wearing those granny knickers."

Claire did have eyeshadow and lipstick on, but as always, it was understated. That's how she preferred her makeup to look, but clearly Charlie wasn't pleased. And yes, her panties were the same. What did he expect? She'd already explained she had no other styles. Clenching her fists and fighting back her emotions, Claire took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm wearing the same panties baby, but I explained I'll buy some others today," she said calmly, seeing his face relax. "And I'm sorry about my makeup. If you want me to change it I will."

Charlie preferred the makeup he saw on the internet. Heavy eyeshadow and red glossy lipstick. Cocksucking lipstick. But he had to be careful. One step at a time. "God, I'm really sorry, mum," he said with sad eyes. "I just want you to look good. You know? Anyway, I'm hungry."

Claire relaxed. If Charlie wanted her to look good, that's what she'd do. After making him a sandwich for lunch, for a short while they talked like any other mother and son.

"Are you sure you'll be ok baby?" she asked, grabbing her keys. "I shouldn't be too long."

"I'm fucking 20 years old you stupid bitch!" he snapped. "I can look after myself just fine. I'm not a total fucking cripple." He eyed her coldly. "Make sure you get the right kind of knickers, mother."

Ignoring his outburst, Claire kissed his forehead. "I haven't forgotten baby. Thongs and gstrings."

After downloading the photos and video from his phone to his PC, Charlie reviewed what he'd captured. He was more than pleased. His mother's nipples looked like bullets in that pretty frock. In fact, he barely remembered not seeing them hard. The hurt and humiliation in her eyes as he launched into abuse was in stark contrast to the photo of a happy mother and son. And there it was again, her eyes flickering to glance at his groin. Dirty fucking bitch.

Edited and happy, Charlie saved the files and went on to browse for images he could send her for makeup tips. After that, he searched her social media feeds, downloading images and videos of her performing on stage and at swanky after concert events. They would be perfect for his website, but more he looked, the angrier he got.

Fucking hell! That bitch had been jetting off all over the world while he'd been stuck in care. 12 fucking years in one place while she travelled the world experiencing countries he could only dream of visiting. All paid for by his dead father's money, no doubt. It wasn't as if he didn't know really, but until then, he'd never actually seen it. BITCH! The world renowned violinist. The prim and proper stuck up socialite, would soon be nothing but his cockbegging dumb bimbo whore and the world would see. That fucking bitch would pay. He would make certain of it.

Claire was taken by her feelings as she perused the lingerie store. Her vagina was damp. She told herself that never having shopped for sexy underwear was probably the reason. That and the knowledge she was making Charlie happy. As she handled each item, she also found she was asking herself the same question. "Would Charlie like this?" If she had any doubt, she would carefully put the garment back and look for something else.

It was confusing. The last thing she wanted was to return home and find her choices were wrong. Every item had to be perfect. Every pair of panties had to make her son happy, so she chose only those that were, to her mind, sexy. No cotton. No dull colours. Lots of lace. Lots of nylon, Lycra and even jewelled. He'd suggested thongs, but she seemed to naturally gravitate towards gstrings. They just looked so risqué. So that's what she bought. The sooner she made him happy, the sooner he would forget about Joshua. Making Charlie happy was all that mattered. Besides, the side effects were indeed pleasant for her too. Her face blushed at the thought.

By the time she returned home Claire was excited. Very excited. So much so, she had to visit the toilet to mop up the leaking from her vagina. She was giddy. Like a woman on her first date hoping to impress her beau. God, it had been so long since she'd felt that way. She reprimanded herself as she walked towards Charlies room. She wasn't doing this for herself. This wasn't about her pleasure. That would be selfish. No. This was for Charlie. Everything was about him.

"Of course I've been ok you dumb cunt," he hissed when Claire greeted him. Charlie had his monitor turned off, but the webcam was recording. "Did you get what I told you to get, mother?"

Claire didn't react to his obscenity, even though it cut through her like a knife. Instead she kissed his forehead. "Yes baby," she told him. "Do you want me to get the bags and show you?"

Charlie purposely acted disinterested. "Not really, mother," he told her dismissively. Then apologised. "Sorry mum. My legs are sore and I'm grumpy and hungry."

For a moment, Claire was disappointed. Did he not want to see what she'd bought for him? She'd expected him to be excited, but she was being selfish again. "Do you want me to help with your legs baby?" she asked, her face a mask of concern.

"Yes please, mum," he said, eyeing her carefully.

Claire gently removed the prosthetics and helped him into his wheelchair. "Could you put some cream on, mum?" he asked. "They really hurt today."

Grabbing his cream, she knelt down in front of him. "You should kiss them better first, mother," he smiled down at her. "That's what good mothers do when their children are hurt isnt it? They kiss the sore bits better."