The Birthday Box

Writers note: An enormous thank you to user neuroparenthetical (NP) for editing this story. Their services were invaluable in bringing this piece to life. This story involves themes of non-consent that become more intense near the end. There is no violence, but it nowhere near as dark as "Love Do Cost a Thing".

I hope you enjoy.

To say that the years had been kind to my mother, Kitty, would have been an understatement; she was as bubbly and charismatic as when I was a kid, but it was only around my eighteenth birthday that I'd begun to also take notice of what a firecracker she was. Whip smart, funnier than any of my friends, and gorgeous enough that my younger self often wondered why she looked so much better than the women I saw on magazine covers. She was a few years younger than my Dad, but more often than not it felt like there was a whole decade keeping them apart. While my Dad was graying and showing signs of wrinkles creasing his forehead, Mom still managed to look like she was ripped straight out of a Pixar movie. The odd time I would catch myself staring at her behind in a transfixed daze, the word "MILF" would shamefully drift to mind.

Her hair seemed to never be less than perfectly wavy, as though it was trying in vain to match the pronounced curves of her body. I knew it was wrong to be casting my gaze on her plump bottom every time we sat down for dinner, but the way her cheeks practically oozed over the edges of the chair was impossible to ignore. I know, I know, "She's your Mother!" But I justified it to myself by silently asserting - over and over again - that looking wouldn't do any harm.

Mom often sported a woodsy, autumnal lipstick that accented the two small, dark moles nuzzled just below the corner of her mouth, right above where her solitary dimple appeared any time she graced the world with her smile. I knew my parents were happy together, but I never understood what my dad had done to earn a second look from someone as stunning as my mom. Must've sold his soul to someone sinister, I supposed.

Some may have considered my lack of siblings a blessing, others a curse. I found it to be the former, as it gave my Mom tons of time to devote to me while Dad was at work. That may explain why nearing adulthood hadn't stopped be from being so close with them both, in particular my mother. As I grew up, I stopped hearing my friends talk about the bond they shared with their family, so I supposed that it was something my mom and dad had gone to great lengths to successfully preserve. Those efforts had frequently annoyed me, just as they would have any young teenager, but just then, on the cusp of leaving home, I was starting to appreciate all of it.

We talked openly about everything, even things that most kids would be utterly ashamed to share with their family. They both knew I was a virgin, and that I would do anything I could to change that before university, but I'd never found a girl to go all the way with. Both Mom and Dad had tried to set me up with some of their friends' kids, but it never went anywhere serious.

I had joked that, for my eighteenth birthday, they should just bite the bullet and hire me a hooker as my present. We laughed about it, but I was more than half serious. Mom clearly didn't understand, but I think I saw something in Dad's eye that told me he was savvy to the desperation I was feeling. In fact, I'd overheard quite the conversation between the two of them about a week or so before our birthday.

"Do you think he's kidding, hun?" Based on the concern I heard in her voice, I could practically see Mom anxiously twisting a cord of her strawberry blonde hair around her finger. "I know you two joke like this a lot. Could this just be another joke?"

My Dad grunted. "I don't know, Kitty. If I were him, I would be dead serious about it."

"I mean, sure, wanting it is one thing, but would you have actually asked your parents for it?"

"For my parents to hire me a hooker?" The air grew thick with silence before both of them burst out laughing. "No, no, I don't think I would have had the courage to ask."

"Well, then, maybe the boy we raised has been taught to speak his mind a little too much, hmm?" Again, even with a wall between us I could vividly envision how deeply Mom's brow was arched as she delivered that line. "I won't point fingers as to why, but here we are, with a boy so bold he's asking to lose his virginity as a friggin' birthday present!"

"Aren't we lucky?" Dad chuckled. "Some kids can't decide what they want, but at least ours is sure."

"And I'm sure he's not going to get it, right?"

Dad did not respond.

"Right, Gerry?" Mom prodded, seeking to hear the words aloud.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, right, Kitty."

"Gerry..." Mom started calmly. "I just... I guess it feels weird to me."

"I know. You and I haven't even-"

"I know," Mom cut him off. "It's been a while, and I understand. Look, honey, your birthday is just around the corner, and Dr. Tabitha had us talk about some of the more, uh, weird stuff we wanted to try, right?"

Dad offered nothing back as Mom continued trying to, by the sounds of it, persuade him into being intimate. "I just thought maybe next week, for your birthday, it would be a good time to try something new! Maybe that 'freeuse' thing you talked about! That could be fun -- when Daniel isn't home, of course."

"I guess..." Dad trailed off.

"Or...or the, uh, other thing?" Mom's voice was sullen as she offered up a mysterious alternative gift. "I know I said it made me uncomfortable, but if you really want to try I can do my best."

I was stuck between being extremely disgusted at hearing my parents talk about sex, while also rooting as hard as I could for Mom to get what she'd wanted. There was something about the longing in her voice that made her easy to side with, though I'd guessed by Dad's response that there was been something more causing the rift between them - a rift whose existence, until that very night, I'd never once suspected.

I heard the telltale sound of him kissing her forehead. The conversation went quiet after that, so I slunk through the shadows back to my room with about a thousand questions in my head.

Was Dad serious about getting me a hooker?

What the hell is "freeuse"?

When was the last time they had sex?

Wait, why do I even care?

Oh my god, what if they get a divorce?

Who am I gonna live with?

Why doesn't Dad want to have sex with someone as sexy as Mom?

That word was stuck in my head. I lingered on it, realizing that I had never used the word "sexy" to describe my mother. I felt guilty -- or rather, I known I should have felt guilty, but I didn't. I mulled over that waterfall of questions that roared through my mind until they'd eventually slowed to a trickle. As the week passed, I pushed their conversation to the back of my mind, blissfully unaware of just how soon it would resurface.

The weekend finally rolled around and we found ourselves trying to make time for familial celebration before we went our separate ways for the day. I had plans to see my friends, while Dad headed for the office in the hopes that he would get enough work done for him to be able to enjoy the rest of the weekend free of guilt.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Daniel and Gerry, happy birthday to you!" Mom clapped her hands excitedly as she set down our cake. Yes: our cake. One half of the cake was chocolate, for myself, and the other was strawberry cream, for my dad.

My father and I shared a birthday, putting us in a unique situation usually reserved for twins. Our real birthday wasn't until the next day, but Mom had been so excited to show off her latest Frankenstein-inspired cake that we'd decided to have a small, early celebration before the weekend kicked off. She had become quite good at making one day feel special enough for both of us, and honestly, I had grown to enjoy sharing the day. That meant that Dad, to his chagrin, had to give up his day of celebration to share it with me. While he never said anything about it, I always felt a bit guilty stealing his thunder when the day rolled around.

Mom's apron was a plain beige decorated with bright orange frills. The entire front was adorned with streaks of red and brown frosting from her labor of love, displayed on her chest and stomach like an abstract painting. "I hope you two made wishes, because I am not going to relight fifty more candles just for you to blow them out again."

"Fifty? Who's fifty?" Dad spun in his seat like someone had tapped him on the shoulder, then pointed at me. "Is it you? But you look so young!"

I chuckled. "I think she means you, old man, and you're lucky she's rounding down."

My dad's hearty laughter echoed throughout the kitchen. "That's a shame; if she rounded up I'd finally start getting the elusive 'senior discount' that I've heard so much about."

Mom rolled her eyes until she saw grey matter, but she said nothing. There was little she loved more than the sound of her boys joking with each other.

"You know, Dad, if Mom doesn't start aging with you, it won't be long before people think you've got a gold digger situation worked out." I knew the best way to get Mom worked up was to talk about her like she wasn't in the room.

"A what kind of situation, Daniel?" She tapped her foot menacingly as she dared me to repeat myself. "I'm going to assume you misspoke. Wanna try that again?"

I made a show of nervously swallowing my cake. "Oh, uh, I think what I meant to say was that Mom looks really, really good for her age. Like super good." I didn't even have to lie.

Mom raised her chin and nodded slightly. "Warmer, warmer."

I acted like a lightbulb had just gone off in my head. "For any age! That's what I meant. I think I just got confused. Sorry, Mom."

"That's what I thought. Thank you, honey." If only I could find a girl my age with a sense of humour like my Mom I would be happy for the rest of my life. Her dress fanned out as she spun victoriously on her heels, revealing the faintest hint of the bright blue, lace underwear she had underneath. I scolded myself for looking, but did not avert my gaze. I watched her walk all the way back to the sink fantasizing about the garment she had unwittingly flashed me.

Mom's plump bottom jiggled as the pads of her tiny feet pitter-pattered over the tile, stopping when she reached the sink. She started cleaning the sugary bakeware with gusto, putting her whole body into scraping the hardened frosting off of the pans. The more she struggled, the more her cheeks bounced off of each other as her body rocked back and forth. The greedy mounds swallowed the tail of her dress between them, tightly pulling the fabric so it caressed the swell of her meaty ass. I wasn't lucky enough to catch another glimpse of the blue lace, but that didn't stop me from staring.

Dad said something that went in one ear and out the other. When I finally pulled my attention away from Mom's behind, I found him with his head cocked like I was supposed to be answering something. I ignored my rising erection, hoping that Dad wanted to talk about sports or something innocuous. "Sorry, Dad. What was that?"

Dad leaned in and lowered his voice. "I asked if you were serious about that birthday present you asked for."

"The snowboard?" I was playing partially dumb since I didn't really expect him to bring this up with Mom so close by. Thankfully, she was occupied humming an Adele song while she cleaned.

Dad shook his head. "No, no. I mean the gift you asked for."

"Oh, that gift." I tapped my nose. "I guess so. I don't wanna be a virgin when I get to university, you know?"

Dad puffed out his chest. "Oh, believe me, I know exactly what you mean. Your Mom seemed a little put off by the idea, but let's just say she's not the only one making decisions around here."

I snorted. "Oh, yeah? Tell her that and see if she likes it."

"Not a chance in hell, Son. Not even on my birthday." We both laughed as we finished off the last bites of cake just as Mom came to sit with us.

"What do my big, strong men have planned for today?"

"Work." Dad sighed.

"Play." I chimed.

"I wonder who drew the short straw." She teased, winking at me. "You're lucky your Dad works so hard for us. Speaking of, honey, when did you say you had to leave?"

"Pretty soon, I think. If I can just get ahead on this project today I won't have to think about it for the rest of the weekend." Dad took Mom's hand and kissed her fingers. "Then I can spent the whole time being pampered by the most amazing wife in the world."

"Okay, dear." Mom feigned a weak smile. Her dimples popped in when something dashed across her mind like a flash of lightning. "You promised you'd be back tonight, right?"

"I promise." Dad was telling the truth, or at least his version of it. The definition of 'tonight' was very loose with him, and we all knew there was a chance he might not be home until three or four in the morning.

Dad gave Mom a lazy kiss goodbye, and she deflated into her chair as he left to grab his jacket. His shoes clicked on the tile of the kitchen as he exited, every step getting quieter until the slam of the front door jolted Mom upright in her seat. She plastered on a smile and excused herself from the table, which was still cluttered with plates and leftovers. It wasn't like her to leave a mess like that, so I took it upon myself to tidy up while she escaped to her bedroom.

I finished cleaning just as I heard the telltale creaks of the stairs under Mom's weight. She floated into the kitchen in a dreamlike state and gasped when she saw the sink full of dishes.

"Oh, Danny, you didn't have to do all this." Mom's bare feet pitter-pattered over to me, and she stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek, falling into my chest as she wrapped her arms around me. She cast her dazzling, blue doe eyes up at me. "Are you gonna be late to meet your friends now?"

"It's okay, Mom." I kissed her forehead with a grin. "I'm gonna spend all day with those goons. Besides, this barely took a minute."

"Well, thank you either way." She pulled away from me and I felt my heart sink a little. "Now go! You have friends that need a birthday boy to load up with alcohol."

My laugh echoed around the otherwise silent kitchen. "Always looking out for me, aren't you?"

"Someone has to!" She winked at me and fluttered out of the kitchen, in a noticeably better mood than when she'd walked in. She called as she ascended the stairs. "I'll see you tomorrow, honey!"

I was going to call after her and correct her -- I knew I was going to be home that night -- but she was already out of earshot. I didn't think it mattered, but, after so many days spent ruminating upon that overheard conversation, one would think it would've set off an alarm bell in my head just then.

Then again, if it had, I likely would have missed out on the greatest birthday present I had ever received.

The streetlights were the only thing illuminating the road as I stared longingly out of the car window. They passed by like camera flashes, rhythmically pulsing their light against my closed eyelids as I rested my head against the cool pane of glass.

"What are the odds, huh?" my friend Jason asked as he drove into my subdivision. I knew he was talking to me, but I hoped by some miracle that there was a ghost in the car whose response he was awaiting. "I mean, a hooker is one thing, but a hooker from your parents is a whole new pie. You know?"

"I know," I slurred, trying to keep myself together so I wouldn't look like a fool when I stumbled through the door. I regretfully pulled my forehead from the window, savouring the final seconds of cool relief as my sweltering skin peeled off it like a Band-Aid. I blinked extra hard a couple times to adjust to the darkness inside the car. "Hey, Jas, thanks for giving me a ride, man."

"No worries, birthday boy." He patted me on the shoulder without taking his eyes off the road. "Just happy to know you got home safe. You sure your parents are gone?"

"Yeah, it's their thing," I hiccupped. "They're probably at dinner still, so I'm just gonna go right to bed."

We pulled into my driveway and said our goodbyes. Jason's tattered car croaked with exhaustion as he pulled out of the driveway, and he waved to me until he was out of sight.

I relished the night air nipping at my skin as I stood motionless in the driveway, watching a family of moths playing tag in the dim glow of a nearby streetlight. The whole subdivision seemed eerily quiet, as if it were keeping a secret from me. I took a deep breath and summoned the will to move my concrete shoes, dragging them up the walkway until I reached the front door.

Inside, I was met with a sight that warranted an audible declaration, even though I was alone in the house.

"What in the hell is this?"

As I threw open the door, dozens of rose petals were blown aside. They drew my attention further inside the house. Every corner was drenched with a curiously dim atmosphere, lending a haunting perspective to the walls I knew so well. It was as close as I had ever felt to being a stranger in my own home.

A few small candles decorated the room, their lights dancing menacingly against the white walls and casting fiendish-looking shapes in the orange glow. They seemed to be creating a path that led into the living room, where the serenade of warm candlelight was burning like a beacon whose warmth would ease my passage through the shadow drenched foyer.

I kicked off my shoes without taking my eyes off the darkness lurking in every corner of the foyer, half expecting something to leap out and grab me. It wasn't quite frightening, but something definitely felt askew.

The flowers were soft under my feet as I followed the red carpet to its natural end. I stepped through the threshold into the living room and let my gaze wander as the petals gave way to a familiar hardwood floor. Every corner of the room sported an impossibly brilliant array of uniquely coloured candles. Their warm glow cast across the ceiling, mingling in a choreography of soft, orange light.

A small plume of smoke on the table next to me drifted under my nose. Sandalwood, I thought, mouthing the word to myself. It was Mom's favourite, but I knew she only burned it for special occasions. Maybe a smarter man, or a more sober one, would have put the clues together in time, but I was not that man, so imagine my astonishment when my eyes finally stumbled upon the true prize of the evening - the reason everything had been laid out to begin with, and undoubtedly the greatest birthday present my parents had ever given me.

Upon the sturdy, wooden coffee table in the center of the room was a large, black box with a large hole cut in one side. The box itself was unimpressive, but what it housed was anything but. Sticking out from the hole in the box were a pair of undeniably gorgeous legs, each ending in a foot adorned with ruby red stilettos whose bold color matched all ten adorable toes. Each one sparkled like painted glass in the flickering candlelight.

The table itself was padded with the cushions from the sofa, giving the mystery woman's knees something to rest on, but that was all I could see. The mouth of the box swallowed the rest of her body, leaving everything else up to my imagination. A table cloth was laid on the box, and its frayed edges were draped over her plump, round bottom.

There was a note delicately placed in the middle of the table. I timidly walked over, scanning the room for any sign of a trap that would disrupt that perfect moment. The table seemed a million miles away, daring me to reach it, taunting me with something too good to be true that nevertheless drove my every step. My heart was thumping in my ears like a steam engine roaring to life, pulling all the blood from my limbs to fuel me forward. My hands were equal parts shaky and clammy as I put one foot in front of the other, forcing myself to shuffle towards the box.