Mothers and Secrets

Before she could retreat, Grant clapped his hands and said, "Let's get to it."

They worked out: Madeline was focused and driven. She drove her fears away with determination to make the most of the workout and these moments; to enjoy her son's touch and work her body into one he could best enjoy touching.

They showered: Individually of course. But neither was far from the other's thoughts in their hot wet stalls.

They prepared dinner: Light and playful. Plenty of hip bumping and careful smiles.

They ate together: In this mood the mother and son had built, sticks and ashes would have tasted good. But their meal was as nutritious as it was tasty.

Gabe came home, not hungry. "Had burgers at the bar." He wouldn't be interested in the vegetarian chili unless it was spread over a jumbo hot dog. With extra melted cheddar.

That was fine by the other Blooms. He could pick up hot dogs for himself on Monday. "But you're working at home Mondays, Madeline. Can't you pick some up when you get a minute?"

"I'll see what I can do. It's important that I get my work done while I've got the house to myself." She knew that when she got a minute, she would go for a run. There was something she was considering buying, but it wasn't hot dogs.

***

...lurking around this community for months...convince myself it was only kinky curiosity... amazing confessionals... hope they are true... thrilling photos... what mothers and sons can be to/for one another... admit to myself... love for my son goes beyond the normal. Beyond what is natural... decided to reach out.

From the first public post by MadMommy1980

***

Monday, Grant worked the late shift at the gym. His mother had been locked away that morning, trying to get work done for her job. When he got home after 9:30 at night, she confirmed that she had gone for a run and that dinner was waiting for him. It was the best spinach lasagna he'd ever tasted.

"Did Dad get to eat any of this, or did he get those hot dogs?"

"I made a dish based around the recommendations my son and coach gave me. I'm going to keep serving up what you want. That's my choice. Today. Tomorrow. As long as I can." She smiled, but her son couldn't return it.

"Was he mad?"

"Remember last week, when you said, 'His happiness isn't my highest priority right now'?"

"Sure. But I don't want to go out of my way to hurt him either."

She nodded. It was reasonable. Then she nailed him to his chair with a hard stare. "I think you're old enough and involved enough in my health/fitness pursuits to know this: I reminded him this evening about an agreement we made decades ago. As long as I agree to play the traditional role and take on responsibility for making dinner, I have final say in what is served. If he ever wants something I don't feel like making, he is free to take over dinner preparations. He only needs to let me know early enough in advance."

"Sounds reasonable," Grant said, trying not to gulp at his mother's intensity.

"That is a good answer, Grant. Your father's answer was not so good. He said, and I quote, 'Just because I married a fat cow doesn't mean I have to eat like one. Go ahead and work off that lard, Maddie. I'll be glad when it's gone. But at least three to four nights a week I want meat on my table.' Charming as always. Before the conversation ended he called me a stupid bitch and an ungrateful cunt. Now, why you are so worried that I mighthurt that son-of-a-bitch's feelings by making him a healthy and tasty meal. Seven. Goddamned. Nights. A week." Her face was red, and her eyes shimmered with fury and tears.

It was incredible how quickly Grant's empathy for his father could be flushed from his system. He stood up, and leaned over to squeeze his mother. "My gods, I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Mom."

She hugged him back, and murmured, "It's okay, baby. You didn't know. I've always kept the worst of it from you. Huh. I probably still will."

He broke their embrace to look his mother in the eye and ask, "What did you say to him after that?"

For a moment the dedicated mom looked embarrassed. She said, "Oh... You don't need to hear that."

"Did you give as well as you got? Please tell me you told him to fuck off or something like that."

"Grant, It's not important what I said."

"If I don't know that justice was done, I'm going up there to kick his ass."

"No!"

"Then tell me what you said. I can't just let this go, Mom."

"Okay. Sit down, okay? I...I said something like, "If I'm a cow, and you're so crazy for meat, then you can break your years-long fast and finally..." she coughed, and looked away. "...eat me."

Someone should. I don't know if I could be that one, but this is a woman who deserves a long deep open mouth kiss on her--

"Hun?" Madeline's head tilted. She watched him with a mix of entertainment and care.

The distracted son snapped out of his stupor, and laughed at himself. "I guess I'm the one who needs to work on staying present."

Next came Tuesday: Grant's day off. Madeline worked at her office 9 to 5. By the time she got home, her son had the gym warmed up for her. She went right down with him, and pulled in a deep breath through her nose without explaining a thing. The ever-fitter mother changed into her tight workout clothes in the attached storage area.

They worked hard. Grant checked several times that she was present. Maddie was there with him every time.

There was time for showers before dinner because there was still plenty of spinach lasagna from the night before. It took a moment to season a mixed salad with extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper.

Gabe did not dare complain. The simple truth was that the food was outstanding.

Wednesday Grant worked late while Madeline and Gabe both worked 9 to 5. There was no mother/son workout, so the dedicated mother went for a run an hour or so after dinner. There had been no meat on the table. Mother and son sat together in the late night kitchen as she served him. He didn't bring up his father, and she offered no insights.

Thursday everyone worked a normal schedule. Mother and son squeezed in their workout. They ran long on time. Madeline had bought a second workout outfit, "This way I don't have to go crazy cleaning the one outfit over and over or else letting it stink up the place." It was boy-shorts and a tight top again. This set featured blue, purple and gray shapes puzzled together like a Chagall stained class window. Her son couldn't help gushing about how incredible his mom looked. She loved every second of his praise. It wasn't just the tight new clothes. Grant could see signs of his mother's tight new body. It was in details he knew to look for (thanks to her online communications with characters real and fictional,) but it was definitely there to see.

Her leg muscles were better defined; her shoulders and arms as well. Her ass still looked round and juicy, but it held against gravity better than it had a week or two ago. And she may have been holding in her stomach under her son's inspection, but it was clearly a smaller harder core than when they'd begun.

"Your body is already firming up. Your progress is phenomenal."

"All thanks to my sculptor." She grinned, stroking her hair and staring up at him like a teenager would look at the boy of her dreams. She went in for a hug.

A late start meant a late finish. The Blooms showered after calling in an order for pizza to recoup the time. Not every meal has to be super healthy.

Gabe was there to pay the delivery guy when the pizzas arrived. His wife and son dried and dressed upstairs. He brought the pies to the kitchen, and opened the boxes. One had just mushroom. The other offered spinach, feta cheese and onion. He was not surprised. Neither was he happy.

The Bloom patriarch sat clenching his teeth at the table. He refused to speak. He especially refused to admit that the spinach/feta/onion pizza was good. He held his tongue, and the others knew he was angry.

The silent treatment, Grant thought. Then Madeline's voice bubbled up in his mind. Let him think we hate it.

The youngest Bloom looked at his mom. She was smiling at him and nibbling at the tip of her slice. The playful beauty of her pose triggered a familiar reaction in his gut and groin.

But the thought that usually followed such moments didn't come. When was the last time he'd had a skeptical thought about what he could/would do for his mother? The answer, Monday, arose in his mind like Madeline's voice a moment earlier. Somewhere along the last 3 days his doubts had washed away. She was lovely and focused on him while ignoring her husband's rage. This woman had no doubts about what she wanted, but she had her limits on what she was willing to do about it. When had the doubts gone? He wasn't sure. But they were gone. His path was certain.

She looks so happy. I'm gonna make her a lot happier. I have to be careful; don't scare her off. Take an assertive role in making it happen. Assertive, not aggressive.

He leaned aside to take hold of her thigh. It immediately spread from its firm twin to encourage his hold on her. "You look great, Mom. The diet change and the running and the workouts are really paying off!"

Gabe turned in response to his son's words, and looked at his wife. His eyebrows rose in appreciation of something he hadn't noticed before.

Too late, shit head. The thought passed through his skull like a train in the night; unremarked and undeterred.

Madeline only had eyes for Grant. "Thank you so much, honey. I couldn't have done it without my big strong coach." She giggled like a girl while, under the table, she stroked his hand on her thigh.

He released her leg to reach up and stroke her shoulder length brown locks. "You've been easy to coach." Her face was turned completely towards Grant, hidden from Gabe. Only her son could see how her eyes slid shut with pleasure. "You always follow my instructions perfectly, Mom." Her gray-on-blue eyes popped open on her beloved boy. "Keep it up," he continued, "and we'll achieve more than you ever thought we could."

***

...spanking, maybe. It depends a lot on context... what it means to him when he does it... punishing me for past wrongs (not into it) or playing with me (yes!)? Asserting possession and desire (yes!) or trying to suppress my will (no, thanks)?

...not interested in humiliating or being humiliated... aggression and pain aren't my thing... written elsewhere, I would be happy to submit. I relish in serving him, even though he is unaware of my deeper feelings. I've written it many times: Whatever he wants. However he needs me... And, yeah, if he's doing it for us, then I'd be happy to bend over for my son's strong hand.

from MadMommy1980 in a private conversation thread with DrBabyRuthie777

***

This Friday was like most. Everyone worked 9 to 5. Madeline served Mexican bean soup with guacamole. It was spicy, hardy and filling. Gabe kept a neutral expression, playing at the strong and silent type. This worked well for the whole Bloom family. Thursday had worn out Grant's mother, so she retired to her bedroom laptop early.

Saturday, Grant went to work the later hours at the gym while his parents relaxed. He got home not long past 9 at night. His father was stewing in his La-Z-Boy. His mother was stewing up a Hungarian ragout she'd found online called "Letscho." It smelled rich with tomatoes, onions and a bunch of other veggies.

"Y'know what, Madeline?" the father growled.

"Am I Madeline again, now that our son is home?" his mother called back. "Have I stopped being a farm animal?"

"I wish," Gabe snapped back. Grant's eyes bulged, but before he could act, his father continued. "I was going to say that you are right." The recently returned son held himself back. "I can't stand another herbivore meal," the disgruntled husband barked. "And I will have to take matters into my own hands."

Hard young biceps clutched, and he felt his hands clench into fists of their own accord. If his father thought taking things into his own hands meant force or violence, then he'd make sure Gabe was exclusively on the receiving end of it.

But fists were not needed. Pappa Bloom said, "I'm going to make dinner tomorrow night. Don't fucking bother bringing your goddamned sprigs and leaves. I ate your weird soup thing tonight, but tomorrow there will be beef!"

Neither the mother nor the son knew what to say. 'There will be beef'? What a fucking clown he's become. Grant shook his head, and said, "I'm going to take a quick shower before I eat, if it you don't mind me taking the time."

"I'll make time for you, baby," Madeline chimed in.

"Thanks, Mom. Now, I expect you will both behave while I'm gone." This didn't get even a chuckle.

He moved to bring his gym bag to the basement first, but Madeline intercepted him. "I'll bring it down for you. Go have a nice shower. I know I enjoyed mine after my run this afternoon."

"Good job. Glad to hear it,"

"Oh give me a break," moaned Gabe to himself.

Maddie and her son were both still holding straps of the gym bag.

"If he gives you any kind of trouble, and you need me..." he started in a low soft tone, for mom's ears only.

She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the lips. "It's fine. Go on."

After the shower, Grant ate with gusto. His father stared at the television in the den. The Letscho was okay. Not great. Gabe capitalized on this. He bragged about how much better Sunday night's dinner would be.

The young trainer felt bushed once he had a full stomach. He retired to his room, and checked messages.

MadMommy1980 had not yet responded to MomsHonestMan's encouragement. He'd congratulated her for buying a second workout outfit, and insisted that one or two more couldn't hurt. "They may even help!"

But JaneRabbit1982 did get a concerning message from MadMommy1980. Madeline wrote to say her husband had started hinting around that he wanted sex. She felt conflicted about it. After years of feeling neglected, the opportunity was here. Yet she passed every time.

Grant sure could have been fooled considering the blow-up he'd walked into that night. Then again, maybe the fight wasbecause his father had been rebuffed while their son was gone. He had strong feelings about how he wanted JaneRabbit1982 to answer. But Thursday had been heavy. He'd worked Friday until dark. And that Letcho dish made him feel like he weighed 500 pounds.

Better to write nothing, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's a free day. I'm sure I'll find time to compose a good answer with a clear head.

He awoke late Sunday. He was too spaced out to compose a strong reply from JaneRabbit1982. Instead, he just wrote, "Can't write a full response at the moment. For now, I'll just say don't do anything you don't want to. I know you wouldn't anyway, but that's all I can send for now. Look for a proper message tonight."

Into the afternoon he staggered for a second coffee. He took it to his room and fell into more of his mother's content. The mug was long cold and empty when the system notified him a new message had been posted by MadMommy1980. He shook his head. Mom just sent a message out? How long have I been in my room? Two hours? Three?

A moment later there was a knock at the door. "Honey," Maddie called from the other side. "I'm heading out for my Sunday run."

The knob turned, and the door creaked opened a crack. Tied back brown hair over steel and sky colored eyes peeked in. "You looked pretty dazed, hon. Come on out of there. I won't ask you to run with me, but I think you need to get out of this cave."

Grant followed her prancing pony tail down the stairs and as far as the kitchen. He waved her off and prepared himself a class of cold juice as she made for the front door.

Gabe headed out soon after in good spirits. "I'll be back in an hour or so. Heading to a butcher I know. Open on Sunday afternoons. The. Best. Steaks!"

"Okay. Have fun, Dad." The juice was refreshing, so he complimented it with a bowl of cornflakes. The laptop waited in front of him.

There was an intriguing conversation thread with DrBabyRuthie777. He felt his energy picking up from the racy dialogue about power dynamics they each thought of with their sons. Once the cereal was eaten, he didn't bother to finish reading the dialogue. He shut the laptop down, brought it to the writing desk in his room and then headed to the basement gym to burn off some of the excitement he'd built up with the texts of his mother.

When he got there, he found that Maddie had washed, dried and folded the workout clothes from his bag last night. She'd placed them with care on the exercise bench in the center of the basement. She'd probably run it overnight. He'd slept in so late that she'd had plenty of time to fold the shorts and tank top. But even guessing that, the gesture touched him. He'd never thought much about having his laundry done for him for over two decades. All the turbulence going on inside Madeline and her struggles with his father made this gesture seem incredible. How could anyone be so considerate?

By the time Grant arose from the basement, both parents had returned home. He'd pushed himself extra hard at the weights, but he was feeling invigorated rather then worn out.

His mom approached the basement door where her son stood. She was still in her running outfit (loose red soccer shorts this time, and a sky blue top.) She unbound her hair and shook out the pony tail. Her rich brown locks fell loose around her face.) Dad was calling to them from the back yard. Through the kitchen window they saw him waving a thick package wrapped in butcher paper with one hand and swinging a plastic bag of hamburger buns in the other.

"I decided to freeze the steaks for a future meatless emergency. Tonight it will be hamburgers. Any objections? Keep 'em to yourself!"

Before his mother could argue, her son waved a hand and said, "That'll be fine."

Madeline turned, and found herself standing tight in her son's personal space. She looked up into his eyes, Mediterranean-sea-under-storm-clouds like hers. "Are you sure?"

He shone a warm smile on her. "Yeah, of course. He can make dinner for once. Let's head down to the basement for your Sunday workout. We'll work up an appetite together."

Her mouth opened a bit as she stared up at him. Her face was smooth and wondering, like she was catching a glimpse at an unexpected full moon. But there remained a twinge of worry in her eyes. "Do you really think this is okay? It won't ruin our diet and undermine all our hard work? I've been so pleased with my new shape. It would drive me crazy to lose that."

They could hear Gabe pouring coal briquettes into the grill.

Grant laughed with love in his eyes. "Of course not, Mom. A burger dinner can be a fine reward once in a while. Now let's get down, you and me. We can burn a few calories in advance."

Without forethought or calculation, he gave her a playful swat on her rump. The taboo contact made a loud clap, and Grant looked out the back door to see Gabe staring at them. It looked to the young man like his father may have seen it, and was watching for his wife's reaction.

Madeline blushed and looked down so her hair would hide her red cheeks from her husband's view. With a shaky voice, the unsteady mommy rasped "Yes, sir!" Then she headed to the basement without another word.

Grant waved at his father as if to say, Just goofing around. Nothing to see here.

Downstairs, he watched his mother move to the storage area to change from her running clothes to a workout set.