Mom's Errant Panties

I felt the ground fall out from under me as comprehension flooded through my body in nauseating waves of embarrassment. Ashley's eyes went wide, clearly astonished that Amy had gone there, but obviously also in the know regarding the Asian fuck doll I had in my closet.

"Mom told--" I started to

ask, both knowing the answer and not wanting to hear it, even as Amy began to nod slowly, the beginnings of mocking laughter already evident in slight bounces of her shoulders.

Ashley looked like she was genuinely conflicted for a moment but then she started to giggle with Amy as I left my sandwich and coke and walked out of the kitchen, humiliated, angry and on the verge of tears I was refusing to release while still in sight of my evil twin sisters.

People always claimed it was impossible to tell my sisters apart if they were dressed the same. I never had a problem with it, though. They were both evil and capable of heinous acts, but Amy was easily the nastier of the two and I could almost see it, like a feint aura.

I'm sure it was something more tangible that I'd never bothered to flesh out, something like a slight variation in their skeletal structure that I'd become familiar with over the years, but I only saw the aura when I looked at them. It was instant and obvious to me, even carrying over to their very similar voices. I could tell who was talking even over the phone. Dad, before he died, and Mom were the only other people who could do this.

Even though Ashley was a degree or two less evil than Amy, it seemed to have more to do with insecurities rather than a fondness for anything altruistic. She always fell into lockstep with her sister, eventually. Today wasn't the first time I'd seen her hesitant to follow Amy's lead, but like she always had, she ultimately acquiesced.

I shut the door to the basement stairs and locked it. There was no way I would be making room for either of my sisters in the basement during their visit. I intended to avoid them the rest of the week if I had to.

When it came to Mom, I wasn't sure what to think. She'd betrayed me in a way that felt unforgivable. She knew how much I disliked my sisters, and she'd given them lethal ammunition. I assumed that it had probably been mentioned out of concern, possibly wanting other opinions about how to deal with her teenage son's fuck doll, wondering if she should be concerned or intervene. But at the end of the day, I'd prefer she asked just about anyone, other than my sisters, and she had to know that was the case.

I was humiliated and heartbroken, almost like I'd been cheated on. Whatever bliss I'd been feeling from the last forty-eight hours, was gone, replaced by mortification, and anger. I wanted to destroy something. I wanted to disappear.

I could hear my sisters moving around upstairs and I even heard footsteps on the stairs themselves, but nobody ever knocked, and I eventually heard them go back up.

A couple of hours later, I heard someone ring the doorbell and then I heard my sisters leaving with whomever it was.

I typed out a text message to Mom, indicating that her daughters had shown up early, and how our evening plans were ruined.

I erased that and typed out a message explaining how she could have fun with her daughters but to not bother me as I'd lost interest in anything we'd planned.

I erased that and typed out a message explaining how nobody had ever cut me as deep as she had and that I was regretting how much time and energy I'd wasted on caring for her.

I, of course, erased that one too and opted for a silent, seething, pity-party, sending no messages and leaving the door locked while going about my evening as though it were any other.

I snuck upstairs to grab a bite and some coffee a couple times but always made sure to check relevant cameras for signs of my mother or sisters before I did.

Mom came home around 10:15PM and she knocked on the basement door around 10:30PM.

"What?" I yelled, as casually as I could.

"Uh, Greg, did you know your sisters came by?"

"Oh, I am aware. Someone picked them up and they left."

"Did they say what they-- Can you open the door? Why is it locked?"

"Because I don't want to see you or them. Can you please leave me alone, now?"

"What? Why? Greg, what's going on?"

"I don't know. Maybe call your daughters and talk about me some more. I'm sure there are plenty of other embarrassing things you can tell them outside of my fuck doll. Do they know about the crush I used to have on my own mother? I'm sure you can score some points divulging that one. Should be a good time for the three of you!"

The surge of justified indignation I felt at throwing those words towards the locked door lasted about five seconds, and then I heard the initial sobs coming from the other side, followed by quick footsteps, the clicking of heals on tile, and then her door shutting.

"Fuck!" I said as I heard the distant, muffled cries coming from the room above me.

As I laid my forehead on my desk and began rolling it back and forth on the glass surface, I noticed the panties, she'd given me that morning. It filled me with regret to see them, thinking about what might have been.

It was infuriating how quickly things had gone south. One minute, I was blissfully optimistic and excited for the future. Now, I just wanted to crawl in a hole and stop existing.

"To live is to suffer," I whispered, regarding the little hematite statue of Buddha I'd picked up several years back and now kept on my desk. I wasn't religious but something about the little, smiling, fat deity appealed to me when I bought it.

The Buddha hadn't specifically mentioned evil sisters and betraying, sexy mothers, when he'd opined the nature of existence, but I thought there was probably an inference to those things when he'd first coined the phrase.

** 7 /**

I heard Mom's shower turn on around 11:30 that night and I worried about the possibility that she might do something silly while upset, but I was still too angry and hurt to check on her.

I saw that she'd sent me several messages, as indicated by a number 4 over the app we used to communicate via text, but I'd stubbornly refused to read them, not wanting to hear excuses or apologies.

Around 1:45 in the morning, I finally went to bed, but I couldn't sleep, and I finally gave in to my curiosity, reaching over and picking my phone up off the charger, hitting the messaging app and scrolling up to the first message she'd sent.

 I was wrong to ask your sisters for advice. I was worried about you and also missing them. It was selfish and I understand why you're angry. You have every right to hate me. [11:58PM]

 I'm so disappointed about tonight. I thought about you all day and I'm pining for you now... to feel your touch. You make me feel so sexy, Greg. I don't know what I'm going to do without you, but I know I probably blew it. [12:16AM]

 This hurts so much, and I know you're hurting even more, which breaks my heart. I'm so, so sorry. [1:03AM]

 Sleep well, baby. Please know that I love you and I'm so sorry you got me as a mother. I don't deserve you. [1:28AM]

I really wanted to forgive her. As angry and hurt as I was, I kind of understood why she'd asked my sisters. It was ill-advised and a silly place to seek council, but from her perspective, I could kind of understand.

The problem was my sisters weren't going to forget about it anytime soon. Regardless of what was, or wasn't, happening between my mother and I, the next week was going to involve avoiding Amy and Ashley while my mother tried to think of excuses for not including me in anything they did together... assuming the twins found time to do anything with my mother at all.

I was trying to decide if I should go get a hotel room somewhere, and just avoid the whole situation until they left after the following weekend, but then I heard a light tapping on my door.

I knew it was her before I answered, but I still pretended to be surprised as I flicked on my light and opened the door.

She'd obviously been crying all night. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked miserable, saying, "I... I'm--so, so sorry. I'll go away, but I need to know we can at least talk about it, when you're... later. If you promise me, we can talk about it, I think I'll be able to go to sleep."

I was still fuming and feeling hurt when I opened the door, and I'd thought I was going to tell her to leave me alone. I'd thought about saying something biting, something angry that would feel cathartic. I thought I'd wanted her to feel what I was feeling in the wake of Amy's question about Kikko.

Instead of doing any of those things I'd thought about doing, I reached out and took her hand, pulling her into my room.

She started sobbing harder as I led her to my bed, sitting her down on the edge while I crawled around behind her, laying down with my head on my pillow.

Mom continued to sit on the edge of the bed, her head turned back slightly but not enough to make eye contact. She seemed a little confused, as if I'd possibly just asked her in to talk like she'd requested. "Greg, I--don't have a good excuse. I--"

I sat up, slid over behind her and hooked my right arm around her abdomen, pulling her back and holding her to my chest as I laid us both down on my pillow.

I didn't know what I was planning to do, or if I even had a plan, I just knew I didn't trust myself to talk, but I very much wanted to hold her and comfort her, letting her know that it was going to be okay even though I couldn't bring myself to say as much right then.

She wiggled herself back, trying to get closer to me, squirming her body tightly against mine and wrapping both her arms around the one I was holding her with. She turned her head so that my lips were right behind her ear and then she closed her eyes.

I freed my hand

from her long enough to reach up and turn off the light before wrapping it around her middle again.

I was laying there, listening to her breath taking on an increasingly sleep-like cadence, and feeling her body tremble slightly every few seconds from all the crying she'd been doing, when it occurred to me that I was going to have to check cameras in the morning before Mom could make her way back to her room, now that my sisters might be around.

She fell asleep before I did but I wasn't far behind, zonking out until I was awoken around 4:00AM by my surveillance system pinging my phone with a proximity alert.

I initially thought someone was trying to break in but then I noticed the two men in the still image my security system had sent me, were with my sisters.

I managed to slip out from behind Mom without waking her, and I tiptoed to the door, turning the knob slowly as a pulled it towards me, letting my eyes adjust to the light that started to spill in from the hall.

I stepped through and closed the door quietly behind me.

Almost immediately as I neared the basement door that Mom had shut but hadn't locked, I heard Amy cackling loudly, followed by her shouting Ashley's name and then Ashley and someone else shushing her.

They'd obviously been partying all night, and this must have been the after, after-party; a party they seemed to have decided to host at their mother's house in the suburbs for some reason.

The basement door had a standard interior door lock, so it was easily unlocked with a straightened hairpin or hanger, but I would still hear someone trying to unlock it before they came in, so I reengaged the lock and moved to sit at my computer.

I brought up the surveillance suite and checked the relevant cameras to see what the evil duo was planning at the butt crack of dawn.

Bellied up to the island in the kitchen, the two men who looked like they were old enough to have kids my age, were sitting in barstools, fist-bumping each other and laughing at whatever my sisters were doing near the fridge.

I minimized that camera and switched to the kitchen's second angle so I could get a better look.

I initially thought Amy and Ashley were dancing, then I thought they were fighting over something, and then I realized they were making out.

I thought maybe they were doing it ironically, at first, maybe to get a rise out of the two guys they'd brought home, but they were very convincing.

When Amy pulled Ashley's top down and put her left breast in her mouth, I realized there was nothing ironic about the performance, and the plastic neon bands wrapped around their wrists and necks started to make more sense.

It seemed likely they'd been at some sort of rave and were probably on some form of ecstasy, which would kind of explain all the groping and rubbing they were doing. The guys took the exposed titty as their cue to join in, standing and walking around the island to sandwich my sisters on either side, who seemed to be trying to avoid the groping hands joining their twin-party. They slipped away and moved into the living room where my mother and I had slept the night before.

My sisters sat on the sectional where they continued giggling and making out. The two men sat on either side of them, watching my sisters and rubbing themselves through their jeans, which came off as my sisters began shedding their clothes.

Everyone was mostly naked within five minutes of arriving in the living room, and while I couldn't help noticing how similar my sister's naked bodies were to my mother's, I wasn't particularly turned on by what I was seeing. It seemed sloppy and almost gratuitously graphic.

I don't know if it was the simmering hatred I'd been feeling towards my sisters, or a properly affixed familial veil that was masking their sex appeal from me, but I registered that I wasn't even a little aroused by what I was seeing.

If I'd happened upon a porn titled: 'Incestuous Twin Sisters' even two days before, I would have definitely clicked on it--lube at the ready.

My aversion to what I was seeing might have also had something to do with the guys madly flinging their limp noodles, trying (seemingly in vain) to coax erections out of the dead chicken necks in their hands.

I didn't know if they were actually on ecstasy, nor did I know if that drug caused erectile dysfunction, but it seemed likely given the fact that they both remained as flaccid as Jell-O even as two attractive, twin sisters roughly half their age, explored each other's bodies right next to them.

I felt compelled to close the window on my screen, and return to cuddle up to the truly exotic, sexy woman lying in my bed, but something was off here and while it seemed like four consenting adults getting freaky after a night of partying, I kept seeing looks from my sisters at the two men flapping their boneless wings, that could have been curiosity or concern. But then they'd go right back to passionately licking and groping each other.

I reached forward, intending to lock my computer for the night. Even with my monitors off and my computer hibernating, the cameras would record everything even if it moved into the spare bedroom, and I'd have the footage on my redundant drives for possible leverage against my evil twin sisters whether I watched or not.

What stopped me from hitting [Windows Key+L] combo, was the taller of the two guys trying to get the attention of the other guy opposite my necking sisters. When the shorter man looked over, the taller one gestured over his shoulder with his thumb and they both pulled up their pants and walked into the kitchen.

They were whispering, so I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but one of the guys returned to the living room and collected his jacket, while the other rummaged through our fridge, ultimately pulling out a couple of rogue beers that had been in there since the previous Thanksgiving.

Whatever doubt I'd had about how much my sisters were actually into what they were doing, quickly evaporated as I watched the shorter man sneak in and out without either twin even opening their eyes.

My sisters had gotten to their knees, facing each other on the couch, each with a hand in the other's crotch and finger-blasting like mad as their mouths kissed passionately. Now it was kind of turning me on, but I was too distracted by the men's behavior to focus on it.

In the kitchen, the shorter man pulled two little bottles from a pocket in his jacket. Based on the push down, twist motion he used to open the first bottle, I assumed they were prescriptions bottles, but couldn't read the label as it was obscured by his hand. He withdrew a pill and handed it to the taller man, who immediately tossed it back before bumping fists with the guy who'd given it to him.

From the other bottle, several little white pills were placed under a paper towel on the counter and then crushed. The taller man scooped the resulting powder into his hand and sprinkled it liberally into two of the beer-filled glasses.

The math seemed pretty simple, but I was having a hard time with the conclusion because my sisters seemed complicit in whatever drug-fueled orgy they'd brought the men home for.

Why the men they'd brought home would feel compelled to drug them, didn't make a lot of sense but it certainly seemed like that was exactly what they were planning, as they toasted each other and drank from the two glasses they hadn't laced with powder.

As the two men topped off the glasses they'd drained, I stood up to go retrieve my cell phone so I could dial 911 but then I hesitated as an idea popped into my head.

I sat back down and immediately pulled up a soundboard program I'd installed to troll people in video games. The software had thousands of sound files I could play on demand, and I'd just remembered one I used to tease a particularly annoying German kid who managed to kill me once and then started to talk shit in the game's general chat, saying how terrible I was at the game.

I made that little Kraut my main focus after that and singled him out for destruction at least twelve times in a row. He did not take it well and started accusing me of using cheats and exploits. I retaliated by playing a sound file from a viral video where a kid had lost his Xbox after a bad report card. It was essentially just a kid balling incoherently, but it had been effective to troll that German brat, and I thought I could use it to lure the men in my kitchen away for a minute.

I selected the Sonos speaker in my mother's bathroom and began playing the audio clip of the crying boy.

It was initially too quiet, and I had to jack the volume up quite a bit to get the men in the kitchen to notice it through two closed doors, but I eventually saw them turn their attention to the hall and I waited for them to start moving in that direction.

Once I saw them reach Mom's bedroom door, I raced over to the stairs and opened the door, creeping as quietly and as quickly as I could to the top step.

I peered slowly around the corner, seeing that my mother's door was wide open at the end of the hall and neither man was in sight.

I hesitated for a half second, suddenly terrified of being caught, but I managed to dislodge myself from the step and darted into the kitchen, picking up the two glasses that had been spiked, and swapping them with the two the men had been drinking from.

I heard the crying sound suddenly grow louder as they opened my mother's bathroom and I darted back to the stairs, nearly tripping and falling down but catching myself on the railing and then slipping back into the basement and quietly

locking the door behind me.

I raced over to my computer and pressed stop on the audio file, then pulled up the camera in my mother's bathroom.

The two men were in there and I watched them search the shower and then the cupboards before shrugging and leaving.