Chosen of the Fertility God

I went upstairs to see if he was napping. But when I opened the door, I saw that he was sitting with his pants around his ankles. And I deliberately didn't look at anything else, I was so embarrassed. But the "hot flash" I'd been feeling flared to full strength, and now I recognized it for what it was: the candle was lit. With a quick apology, I shut the door, and went to splash cold water on my face. I had to cool down. I had to get my inappropriate arousal under control.

Chris was the son of a fertility god. I'd been warned that he would become one too. But I wasn't prepared for what that would mean for me. I knew I shouldn't be surprised that he was masturbating. At eighteen, it would be strange if he didn't. But then again, I didn't really know what to expect from his kind-whether they matured faster, or slower, or just differently. Looking back, I'm glad he was such a late bloomer.

I didn't say anything to him about that incident. After that, it was just a fact of life that when Chris was jacking off, if I was anywhere nearby at the time, I would feel affected. It was something I just had to deal with for a little while longer, until he would be out of the house, living on his own. Though he'd gotten he was only a junior in highschool at that point, since he'd been held back a year. So I had at least a year of this to cope with, and then hopefully he'd be off to college, unless he took a gap year after graduation.

One night I brought a date home, some guy I met at the neighborhood bar. He and I were both a little drunk. I would have sent Chris to a friend's house if I'd planned it out ahead of time, but I hadn't. The lights were all off, so I brought my date to my bedroom trying to keep quiet to avoid waking up my son.

My date was a big man, and I laid him down on the bed, straddling his waist. We had settled into a nice rhythm. This wasn't the best fuck I'd had by a long shot, but it was building to a decent peak. And then I suddenly felt that electric charge in the air. Whether it had anything to do with what I was doing or not, I could tell the candle was lit. Normally I'd just try to ignore it. And part of me was saying to keep going, that the extra arousal was going to make this mediocre lay something special. But I knew that while the candle was lit, I was sure to conceive. And while I wasn't necessarily against having another child, I wasn't ready to conceive that very night with a random guy from the bar.

I stopped cold, and got off my date's lap. "I'm so sorry, I need to stop."

"What? Right now?" he said. "It was just getting good!"

I rolled my eyes. What a compliment! I put on a robe, and waited while he got dressed and left, disappointed.

The next morning, I sat down to breakfast with Chris. I said, "Look, there's something I need to talk to you about. I know you're getting more...mature..."

"Mom, if this is about sex, don't worry. It's all been covered in school," he said.

I laughed a little at that. "Well, there's something I'm sure they didn't cover in school. When I bring a man home, it's important that you give us privacy, just like I try to give you privacy when you need it. Okay? That means no looking, no listening, no nothing."

"I didn't!" he said, unconvincingly.

"Regardless. And this is going to sound odd, but when I'm with someone, I need you to not touch yourself, or anything like that."

He really blushed now. "Okay, got it."

"Good. If you do, I'll know," I said sternly.

Things were back to normal after that, or as normal as they could be. Though I tried not to test my son's promise, if I could help it. If I wanted to be with a man, I'd go to his place, or I'd arrange for Chris to sleep at a friend's house, or something. But I was still feeling those hot flashes around the house. Now they'd be more intense, more prolonged. Now and then, I couldn't help but slip away somewhere private and finger myself to get relief.

One morning, Chris was taking a long time getting ready for school. I could hear the shower running, but I didn't know how long he'd be in there. I thought I would just open the door a little to warn him he was running late.

I opened the door, and in addition to a face full of steam, I felt the full force of his power. The candle was certainly lit. Nevertheless, I had to let him know to speed things up. But before I could get the words out, I accidentally spotted his reflection in the mirror. He looked just like his father, right down to the slack jaw as he reached orgasm. I knew it the moment that he did, because I suddenly came too, my knees buckling, my hips bucking, my vaginal muscles spasming, a yelp escaping my lips. I lost my grip on the door, and it swung wide open as I collapsed on the tile.

I looked up, and in the reflection, Chris opened his eyes, but he was still cumming as his gaze met mine, his orgasm already set into motion. I lost control again, arching my back as I knelt on the tile floor. I gasped for air as he quickly turned off the shower, and began to worry about why I was splayed out on the floor.

"Are you okay, mom?" he asked, pulling the shower curtain aside without reservation. I saw his waning erection, a rope of semen still dripping from it.

"Yeah," I said, pulling my gaze away from my son's crotch. Honestly I felt more than okay. I felt better than I had in ages. "I just slipped, that's all. Came in to tell you you're going to be late for school."

I got up from the floor and pulled the door closed behind me, and then went and changed my underwear which was now suddenly soaked. I was drinking coffee when Chris came running down the stairs. He rushed out the door to catch the bus, before either of us could say a word to each other.

After that, I could still tell whenever Chris was aroused, but now I knew what it was like to be there when he came, to be in the presence of his power, and a part of me wanted to feel that again. So I would hesitate when I walked past his closed bedroom door, but then I'd force myself to ignore it and continue on. Maybe, just maybe, I could finish raising this fertility god to adulthood without anything else weird happening.

One day, it must have bee a Saturday because I hadn't set an alarm, I was having an erotic dream about Chris's father. I could feel the humid, sexy atmosphere in the air, his hot kisses and his unnaturally warm hands on my hips and my thighs, I could feel his firmness slipping gently into me. And as I got more worked up, I started to emerge from my dream, disappointingly alone in my bed.

Then suddenly, before I was fully awake, I orgasmed. It felt like flooring the gas pedal and going from zero to sixty. It abruptly brought me the rest of the way awake, and I gripped the sheets as my body bucked and shook in the throes of an unnatural, unprovoked climax. I would have screamed had I not been gasping for breath.

I heard a grunt from the doorway, and turned my head to see Chris standing there, another pour of semen falling from the tip of his cock to the floor, where a puddle was forming, as the wave of orgasm surged into me.

When I could finally speak, I said sternly, "Chris! You'd better clean that up. And then we're going to have a talk about what you just did."

He ducked over to his room and returned with a t-shirt to soak up the semen on the floor, his expended erection still dangling free between his legs. "And put some clothes on!" I called after him.

When I caught my breath and thought back on what he'd done-making me orgasm at his whim from across the room-I started to be a little scared about what my son was capable of, and what he was turning into.

I sat him down at the table. "Chris, what were you thinking?"

"I just...I had to know. That time in the bathroom, I could've swore that you orgasmed. I know what you sound like when you do. And at the time, I could swear I felt it. It was the most intense thing I'd ever felt. I just had to know if I had made you cum," he said.

"Well now you know. Yes, Chris, you made me cum in the bathroom, and just now in my bedroom. You have that ability, and you're going to make some girl your age very happy."

"Sure, I guess," he said, sounding reluctant.

I was surprised at his reaction. Most boys would have been overjoyed to know that they could reliably bring a girl to orgasm. "You seem doubtful," I said.

"Maybe a girl my age isn't who I want to be with," he said. After a hesitation, he added, "Maybe I only want to be with you."

"What??"

"When I make you orgasm, it feels...amazing," he said.

I couldn't let myself linger on that thought.

"Chris, that can't happen, ever. It wouldn't be right, legally, morally, or biologically. You're my son," I said. I sighed. This was getting off topic. "You'll find that it feels just that good, probably better, with someone else. Someone who isn't your mother. The point is, you did that to me without my consent, and that was wrong. Control over my body is mine to give."

"I'm sorry," he said, seeming truly contrite.

I worried that telling him the truth about his father would make us less like a normal mother and her son, but we were already far from normal. So I told him everything, just not in very explicit detail.

Finally I cautioned him, "So when you start having intercourse, you need to be extremely careful."

He nodded. I'd given him a lot to take in.

But I kept thinking back to what had happened, the sheer intensity of that orgasm I'd woken up to. It made me pause a little longer by his bedroom door, when I could tell he was stroking himself on the other side. His influence made me want to act on my desires. I'd stand there a little while, getting all worked up, and then I'd go to my own bedroom and quietly finish myself off. But every time I did that, I felt like I was missing out on something more.

One day, the voice of responsibility in my head lost the argument, and I found myself turning the doorknob instead of walking on down the hallway. Chris looked up when I opened the door, but didn't stop stroking himself, made no attempt to cover his erection. The room was awash with heady, intoxicating, contagious arousal.

"Okay. I'll join you," I said. "But we're both just masturbating, that's all this is. You stay there, and I'll sit over here." I sat down a chair, and slipped a hand into my frumpy sweatpants, and the other up under my shirt.

My clit became slippery and sensitive as Chris leaned his head back against the wall, his hand slowly running up and down his foreskin, his penis swollen red and shining with precum. I had arrived just in time for the last act.

"I'm about to cum," he warned me, though it was written plainly on his face, and in the tautness of his muscles.

"I'm ready," I said breathlessly. I couldn't believe this was happening, that I was masturbating in the same room as my son, that I was letting him bring me to orgasm with his divine powers.

But despite what I'd said, I wasn't truly ready for the climax that followed, as soon as his ejaculate started to flow. I couldn't have possibly been ready. My eyes couldn't focus, my hand on my clit was unneeded by now, as my vagina spasmed as if well fucked. I nearly fell out of the chair as I screamed out my pleasure. This was no ordinary orgasm, and it kept coming, as spurt after spurt erupted out of Chris's cock and slid down the sides. He wasn't using his hand at that point either, but his erection swelled again and more semen ran down into his lap, and somehow it made a contraction run through me too.

Even though there'd been no touching between us, it left me feeling well and thoroughly fucked. More than that, I knew that when the candle was lit, I was ready to conceive, and I felt that throughout my whole body. Even if I normally felt frumpy and out of shape, in that moment, I'd felt sexy, ripe, fertile, ready to give life again, and still capable of it.

I felt uneasy about what I'd done, what we'd done together, sort of. I had crossed a line, and so had Chris. Even though he was 18, I was still meant to be the parent, the mature one. But I wasn't so conflicted about it that I could resist doing it again. And once I'd done it once more, my inhibitions started to lose out, and it wasn't much more of a stretch for this to become a habit for the two of us.

One day I came home and got the mail out of the mailbox. It included a letter from a genetic testing service. The letter was addressed to Chris, but I couldn't resist tearing it open myself. What it said was that, other than both of us having human genomes, they hadn't found any real genetic link between us. I thought that explained why he looked entirely like his father rather than anything like me. But at the same time, it was another oddity of giving birth to a deity.

It was the summer before college, and Chris and I had both just orgasmed explosively. It left me with sweat running down by back and under my breasts, and I could see a film of it on him too. My head must have been swimming with endorphins, because in that post-orgasmic haze, I felt comfortable bringing up almost anything.

"I can't believe you went all of high school without dating," I said. "I wasn't lying when I said you'd make some girl very happy."

"Well I wasn't lying either," he said. "When I said that I chose you."

"Chose me?"

"To carry my child," he said, dead serious. He reminded me so much of his father by then. I nearly choked.

"What??" I exclaimed. "We'll see about that."

It wasn't quite the proper response as a mother, but it was the firmest response I could muster. The truth was, his influence was intoxicating. He had grown into his powers, and when the candle was lit, when he flooded the room with it, I was no longer the one in control. He'd already worn down my inhibitions. And I worried that if he wanted me, he might be able to have me, even if it meant crossing lines we hadn't yet crossed. Even if it meant having his baby.

"I'm not ready to father a child yet though," he said with a smile.

I tried to hide my sigh of relief. "In the meantime, please, do yourself a favor, and sleep with some coed on campus. Once you do that, I think you'll give up on these silly notions that I'm the only one who could satisfy you."

He went away to college in the fall, and I missed having him around. He called home regularly, but I'd gotten so used to those masturbation sessions that I missed him in ways that a mother really shouldn't. So it was oddly something of a relief when he came home over break and wanted to pick right up where we'd left off. Even though that didn't spell good things for our ability to have any kind of normal relationship.

He turned 21 just before Christmas break in his second year. So I bought him a bottle of wine for his birthday, and we split the entire bottle.

"I'm going to be getting a new roommate," he told me.

"Why's that?" I asked. It was unusual to be getting a new roommate in the middle of the year.

"Well, a couple months ago, I came back to my dorm and found a sock on the bedroom door. My roommate and his girlfriend were getting it on, pretty loudly."

"Okay," I said.

"And listening to them-I couldn't help it-I got pretty turned on," Chris explained.

"Oh no," I said.

"Now he's moving out because they're expecting a baby, in about 7 more months." Chris chuckled.

Drunk as I was, I asked him, "What about you? Have you hooked up with anyone at school yet?"

I wasn't entirely sure what answer I wanted to hear, I just needed to know.

He shook his head. "No, I told you, I chose you to bear my child."

"Not this again," I groaned.

"My father was drawn to you. I'm just like him. In fact, I'm 100% made of him. And for whatever reason, I'm drawn to you in the same way," Chris said.

But I wasn't the 26 year old that Chris's father had chosen. At age 47, after having given up on dating years ago, it was kind of thrilling to be desired again at all. Even if I was desired by the one person who absolutely shouldn't be able to see me that way. But somehow that made it all the more significant that he still saw me as sexy.

And spending most of the past few years apart had changed things between us. Chris was an independent adult now. He looked more like his father than ever, and less like the baby that had come out of me. And I was more desperate for the secondhand bliss of his orgasm. Despite myself, I started thinking of him differently.

"And I've decided that now's the time," he added after a sip of wine.

"To have a baby? You're only 21!" I said.

"Yeah, that's how old you were, when you started trying."

"And I'm 47!"

"Then we'd better not wait much longer," he said. "I mean, at some point I don't know if my powers will be enough."

I could tell he was getting excited about the idea, and it was having an effect on me as well. Or rather, it was hard to distinguish whether I was getting turned on by what Chris was suggesting, or if I was getting turned on just because Chris was turned on. Regardless, there was a stifling atmosphere of arousal in the room that I couldn't deny.

"You haven't said you don't want to," he noted, giving me the chance to do so.

But the thing is, another child would have been a welcome prospect in my empty nest at that point. And since Chris and I somehow weren't genetically related...Somehow the part I was least sure about was the deed itself. Was I really so far gone, that I'd be comfortable having sex with my own son?

I had seen his erection many times at that point, seen the sperm flowing out of it enough times to imagine that happening deep within me. I had felt his orgasm trigger mine enough times to wonder what that would be like with our bodies conjoined. And while he'd been away, I wouldn't have admitted it, but sometimes just fantasizing about those mutual masturbation sessions hadn't been enough, and I'd let my imagination go further. God, I realized I really was that far gone.

Quietly I said, "We'd better go to my bedroom for this." And I took another sip of wine to fortify myself.

After the words came out of my mouth, and the room was deafeningly quiet, I almost couldn't believe I'd actually said it out loud. Or that those few simple words were going to change the course of my life so significantly.

If I could've held out just a couple more years, maybe it would have been too late for me to mother his child. But I didn't hold out a couple more years, and I doubted that I could have. Chris and I had been on course for that night to happen for years by then. If it hadn't happened that night, it would have been the next night, or the one after that. Or he would have slipped into my room on a Saturday morning and fulfilled my erotic dreams. It was bound to happen sooner or later, or so I tell myself, after the fact.

I was still in disbelief at what I was doing, as we climbed the stairs, Chris right behind me. I couldn't believe I was going along with his bizarre suggestion. This wasn't normal for a mother and her son to be doing, but we fundamentally weren't normal.

I stripped without ceremony, getting it over with. We had orgasmed in each other's presence so many times, but that was the first time I'd exposed my entire naked body to him in many years. But even freed from my clothes, my body was burning with desire. As he looked me up and down, it was with a look of awe.

Chris undressed as well, and I couldn't help bit admire the man he had grown up into. His perfect bronze skin, his strong shoulders, the member firming up between his powerful legs.

I think I would have still been unable to kiss him, the way I had kissed his father, if Chris hadn't acted first. It shocked me initially, when he took one of my breasts in his hand, and lowered his mouth to it. But he wasn't an infant anymore, and I was already weak-kneed with arousal. When he sucked on my nipple, it sucked all the breath out of me.