22 comments/ 46610 views/ 84 favorites Bad Medicine Chronicles Ch. 01 By: Rusty_Zipper Story description: A therapist transforms a mother into an incestuous cock whore. *** The therapist listened to the mother's incessant plea and then quietly held up a finger. It signified an attempt to shush the unrelenting babble. Swiveling in her chair, she turned to observe the unsettled young man. "Andy, your eighteen and rightfully an adult. Regardless to your mother's feelings on the matter, she has no legal standing to take part in your sessions. That is, unless you allow it. Do you truly wish her to be involved in your course of treatment? I only need a verbal agreement or in this case, a slight nod of your head." He timidly said, "I don't think—" The mother's agitated voice dominated the reply. "Of course he agrees. I'm his mother. He maybe of legal age, but he's still in school and lives in my house. As his parent, I'm still responsible for his wellbeing. I'll always be a part of his life and I demand participation in his therapy. I find it appalling that I wasn't consulted two weeks ago. After all, I'm paying the damn bill." The therapist continued her unblinking stare at Andy in silence. Her expression was stern and meant to hide her thoughts. Without breaking her gaze, she reached over and pressed the button on the intercom. "Dear, will you be so kind as to bring a cup of tea for Mrs. Baker?" Moments later, the receptionist entered the room and handed the mother a large cup. The therapist said, "Mrs. Baker drink up. You'll find this special blend of herbs has a calming effect. It's a recipe I've concocted and refined over many years. I often have a cup or two when I feel the need. It's my belief that you'll find it quite satisfying." The mother's troubled expression relaxed and she said, "Oh, how thoughtful, I do love tea. Um, my goodness, your right, this is quite pleasant. You'll need to tell me how I can get more of this." "No need, your son mentioned that you enjoyed tea. Knowing of your visit, I had it prepared just for you. I've boxed a small quantity, which should last a day or two. I feel responsible for not notifying you sooner about your son. Consider it a small gift. Trust me, this unique blend will make a new woman of you." The therapist suddenly grinned and her eyes glinted with amusement. "It's settled, you're now part of your son's therapy. It pleases me that he chose to involve you. Now that all grievances are resolved, I can freely discuss the matter at hand. Conventional medication and standard methods to treat his anxiety have failed. Nothing's worked." The mother sedately said, "You've got to help him. Are there no alternatives?" "I'm glad that you've asked. Rest assured that there's one option. I took the liberty, with his approval of course, to enroll him in an experimental drug trial. It's intended for individuals with his particular affliction. With his participation, all fees and costs associated with his treatment are waved. There's absolutely no expense to you. However, since it's an untested drug, the company requires you to sign a nondisclosure agreement, medical forms, and paperwork that excludes the company from liability. Don't worry, these are typical documents used for assessments such as these. In addition, I'm to monitor his treatment and render guidance when necessary. As his caregiver, you're responsible to update me on his status or immediately if the medication adversely affects him." The concerned mother said, "What sort of side effects? Is it dangerous? I'm not sure that Andy needs—" The therapist's expression abruptly changed. "Of course he needs to be a part of this trial!" the agitated woman exclaimed. "Did you not hear me? He's already a participant—before your involvement. This is his only option. Do you understand? My reputation is on the line. I assure you, the drug is completely safe." The mother averted her eyes from the dreadful stare that studied her. The outburst was unexpected and out of character for the woman that had been so stoically professional moments earlier. It was like she was being scolded. Why did she feel apprehensive to respond or argue her concerns more forcefully? It was unlike her. Nervously, she sipped more of the delicious tea. The uneasy mother said, "The side effects. You didn't explain the side effects." Just as quickly, the therapist's demeanor became composed. She said, "Oh—yes, of course. As stated earlier, the drug's untested, but that's not exactly true. The medication was preliminary used on a few subjects. These patients experienced various effects, such as flushed appearance, mild memory loss, and on occasion, sleepwalking. Nothing to worry about. They're simply minor inconveniences that disappear in a day or two. The likelihood of him experiencing any of these are extremely low. However, as instructed, you're to notify me straightaway if you observe side effects that require attention, no matter how minor. I've an expectation that you'll be fully committed to helping with any incident that arises. You're fully devoted towards his treatment, are you not?" "Of course, what type of mother do you think I am?" "Then we're in agreement." The therapist reached out and handed the mother a large electronic device. The confused mother replied, "What? Why are you giving me this?" "Don't be alarmed. The device allows me to monitor your son's condition in the event of an extraordinary occurrence as previously explained. It's a multifunctional device that provides immediate voice communication between us. In overview, you simply press a button. I'll respond and provide guidance as we assess his medical need." "When does his treatment begin?" the mother questioned. The therapist smiled. "It's already begun. Here, take this. That bottle contains his medication. You're to give him one pill at bedtime. I'm confident that by morning, he'll feel refreshed, full of energy, and won't experience anxiety." The mother said, "That's it?" "As for the pills, yes. However, I have a few more questions. In regards to your husband, Andy said that his father is a police officer. Does he work tonight?" "Yes, he works every night, except Tuesday and Thursdays, but what does that have to do with my son's treatment?" "Absolutely nothing. I'm simply documenting the family structure and daily routine. This is strictly for analytical purposes to determine if there are other factors influencing your son's condition. Sometimes family environment can be a source of anxiety. To continue, Andy also stated that he has an older sister. As recorded, she's 22-years old and is currently away attending college. When's she expected to return home for a visit?" That specific question caused a dramatic shift in the mother's expression. She paled and a glint of fear locked her gaze. The hand holding the tea cup trembled. She choked on her reply. The son glared at the mother, befuddled by her reaction. The observant therapist expressed her concern. "Mrs. Baker, did I say something inappropriate? What I asked seemed reasonable. It's not a difficult question to answer." The mother was aware of the eyes upon her. She stammered, "What? Why would you ask me that? I don't understand what my daughter has to do with his treatment." "As stated, it's for record. Please answer the question." "Your question has no relevance to my son's therapy. Perhaps she'll return home for his graduation, if he passes the tests. We aren't talking about my daughter, it's Andy that needs help. I'm only agreeing to this ridiculous drug trial because there's no other option and something needs to be done." "I apologize for overstepping. It wasn't my intent. I guarantee that as long as you participate in his treatment, he'll get better." "Why do you keep bringing this up? I'm his mother, it's a given." The therapist pleasantly smiled and turned her gaze to both mother and son. "Then we're done. Please check with my receptionist to sign the papers on your way out. Don't forget the box of tea. If you need more, just let me know. Remember, contact me using the gadget if there's a need. Please confirm that you understand the seriousness of my requirement." "Yes, I understand. I'm not an idiot. I'll follow your request." "I'm confident that you'll do everything possible to help your son. I'll see both of you soon." *** After the mom and son left, the petite receptionist strolled into the office and took a seat across from the therapist. The raven-haired blonde's expression was hawk-like and curious. "I don't know why Vincent's allowing you to toy with the family. The contract parameters identify the husband as the mark. Who in the hell put you in charge of this operation? Why is Vincent keeping me in the dark?" She was intrigued by the therapist's preoccupation. The woman scribbled obsessively on a drawing with her tongue protruding from her mouth. The receptionist leaned inward to peek at the crudely scribbled sketch. It depicted a family of four that were crudely drawn as stick figures. It was similar to something a child would draw. The father figure was drawn as a separate caricature from the other three. Those lines were dark and deeply pressed into the paper. Deep scratches formed a hole where his genitals would be. In contrast, the son and daughter were lightly sketched and smiling. Both siblings held hands. Strangely, the mother was drawn on all fours with her rear in the air. There was a morbidity to the therapist's fixation. The blond receptionist became impatient when the rotund woman gently rubbed a finger along the picture of the son. That behavior impressed upon her a sign of lunacy. "Tell me what the fuck is going on!" That eruption was enough to break the engrossed woman from her neurotic trance. The therapist immediately stood and tore the picture in half. The ragged piece depicting the frowning man was discarded to the floor. The other hand shook. Her head slowly pivoted upward to fix eyes with the blond. Those sorrowful eyes were watered and her quivering mouth was downturned. The plump woman slammed the tatty illustration facedown upon her desk. She angrily replied, "It's not my place to educate you, but If you piss me off, I'll teach. You'll find my lessons hard. My agreement is with Vincent and the boss. The entire family is part of my deal. I'm in charge because this job is personal and the payment owed to me is now due." "What the hell has Vincent got us into?" "Yes, ask your partner. Perhaps he'll tell you, perhaps not. If he conveyed my story, you'll understand my disposition. For now, your role is to pretend you're a bimbo receptionist, so act stupid and stay out my business. Have no doubt that my enthusiasm at fulfilling the bargain is all consuming." It was then that the petite blond stood, put on her heavy framed glasses and gave the woman a chilling stare. Breathing as she was trained, the tenseness of her form began to ease. Her deadly impulses needed restraint. There was no doubt that Vincent would be displeased if she killed this woman. Swiftly, the young woman reached the door and turned towards the therapist. She uttered, "Bitch," and then left the room. The slamming of the door heralded the receptionist's exit. The therapist cracked a smiled. Her anger had been faked, just like the role she now played. What was truly felt for the unruly young lady was pride. She whispered softly to herself, "Vincent's done well. You've become a fine woman. I loathed to test you in that manner. However, your attitude causes hesitation. Your simply not prepared for the truth. In this, Vincent's failed you. The revelation of the truth may change your demeanor towards this insufferable business, but you must be prepared to accept it." Snatching the paper from the desk, she sighed. She continued to retrospect in thought over the petite woman. Opal, your rude. Vincent should have warned you of my limited tolerance for insolence. Calling me a bitch signifies further lessons must be taught. Bah, not at the moment, there's simply no time to educate you. You'll bark at the appropriate time and ascertain the very definition of bitch. Roger's caution to me be damn. He'll be displeased most assuredly. Her thoughts drifted from Opal's scheduled education. These old memories came as a flood and were a kaleidoscope of all the injustices that defined what she had now become. They triggered emotion and caused her to sob. These sensations were true and difficult to stiffen. She needed to feel them. They fueled her hate and fermented her determination to carry out the scheme. I'll keep my vow, sister. What was done to us is unforgivable and what was taken is irredeemable, but our tormentors will soon feel our pain. Our justice will be immeasurable and truly cruel. In this, my promise will be fulfilled. Raising the roughly drawn picture to the light, she ran her finger along the lightly drawn figure of the smiling young man and then dropped heavily into her chair. She began to wail. *** Karen stepped from the shower as the phone rang. Wrapping herself with a towel, she hastily walked into the bedroom, grabbed the phone, and then sat. She said, "Hello?" "Karen?" "Of course, who else could it be? Hi Rhonda. Whew, just stepped from the shower. Been a long day." "So, how was the appointment?" "Don't get me started. Andy's been seeing a therapist for over two weeks without informing me. At least that woman instructed him to tell me. She had the gall to imply that I might be the cause of his anxiety? Anyway, he sought therapy on his own without consulting me. I should've been involved from the start." "Well, he's an adult." "I don't care how old he is. I'm still his mother. I can't believe he agreed to participate in some weird medical trial and didn't ask for my permission? Get this, for him to participate, we had to sign a nondisclosure agreement along with stacks of paperwork that you need a law degree to read. It was absolutely ridiculous. I still don't know what we signed or agreed to. Anyway, now that I'm home and not pressured by that insistent therapist, I see more clearly. I've decided to pull him out of that program." "You go girl. How's Andy doing?" "After Jack went to work, I gave him the nightly dose. He started getting drowsy, so I sent him to bed. There's an important exam tomorrow so that's one benefit at least. I doubt it'll work, but we'll see." "Sounds like he need's the sleep. I've never heard of anxiety suddenly popping up and affecting anyone like this. It's just strange is all. I hate that he's going through this." "I agree. He's never experienced—" Silence. "Karen? You there? What's going on?" A figure stood at the end of the bed. Karen blathered out a distracted reply, "Ah—ah—ah, I need—go. Andy walked—can't talk. Call—tomorrow." Without turning her gaze, she placed the receiver on the cradle, cutting Rhonda's response off midsentence. What she observed left her momentarily stunned. "Andy?" He stood naked, his head pivoted her direction, but the stare was unfocused. "Andy, are you okay? Answer me!" He didn't reply. She held the large bath towel crimped in one hand to her bosom and scampered to the electronic device on the nightstand. Her other hand hesitated above the button. She felt unsure and indecisive. For moments, her hand hovered over the button. It was crucial that she decide. Her son's condition demanded that she make a choice. She turned to look at her son standing immobile like a shadowy statuette. That image provided the motivation that drove her hand to press the button. A voice resonated from its tiny speakers. "Hello Mrs. Baker. Has something happened? Is Andy okay?" "Hell yes, something's wrong. No, he's not okay. He's standing naked at the end of my bed with a glazed stare and won't answer. What did you do to my son? God-damn-it, what's going on?" "Please, calm down. Naked you say? Staring out into space? It's likely that his condition is a direct result of the medication. Remember, earlier today, I explained the possibility. Mrs. Baker, listen to me. It's essential that you don't wake him. Waking him may inflict more harm than good. It's too complex to explain, just trust me, don't wake him." "Don't wake him? That's absurd. I can't have him standing naked at the end of my bed all night. What the hell do you suggest I do?" "Again, listen to me. I understand your concern and we'll address it. However, it's imperative that we assess his condition. Please, turn on the bedroom light. I certainly understand your discomfort over his nudity, but I need your help. I can't evaluate his condition without it." "I've seen him naked before, I'm not uncomfortable. After all, I'm his mother. I told you, I'm fully committed to his treatment and I'll do what's necessary to help." "Of course, I never questioned your resolve on the matter. Do you see any irregularities, such as dark blue discolorations, skin protrusions, unusual markings, or perhaps genital enlargement, such as his scrotum? It could be anything unnatural. You'll clearly see any deformities I suggested." Karen screeched, "Oh my god!" Those reverberant three words marked her distress and left her gasping. "Mrs. Baker, what's wrong? You need to answer me. It's your duty to tell me your observation. Your voice identifies something troubling and I can't render aid unless you tell me." She exclaimed, "His testicles, oh sweet Jesus, they're enormous. What have you done to my boy?" "Oh, that does sound serious. Listen to me, it's urgent that you turn the device towards your son. This unit has a sophisticated camera system which I control remotely. Suffice it to say, I'm capable of seeing details with vivid clarity and color. It's an extremely useful tool used for multiple applications. It allows me to diagnose my patients and instruct the caregiver. It's essential that I evaluate his condition visually. This is urgent, please comply." The mother didn't hesitate with the instruction. She anxiously questioned, "Why are they so big? What kind of medication causes this type of condition? You never said—" "I never explained the possibility because it never presented itself before. Please, stop fidgeting and listen to me. Mrs. Baker, what I'm about to ask of you is extremely important. I require that you pull his penis to the side, reach under his scrotum and lift it up into the light so I can assess his condition." "What? I'll do no such thing. That's disgusting!" "I'm baffled by your reaction. This is a critical medical situation and your refusing to render aid? I'm appalled that your squeamish over touching your son's genitals. Honestly, I can't help him without your assistance. You have no choice. Do it!" The mother was taken aback by the inflexible directive. It was difficult to counter the woman's request with an opposing argument. She was hesitant to follow through. There had to be an alternative. A solution came to her, but it was expressed in a manner that implied uncertainty. She timidly said, "I'll call for an ambulance and get him to the hospital." "Mrs. Baker, you still don't understand. There's two reasons why outside parties can't be involved in this medical crisis. First, there's no time. Second, the drug is experimental. Information about this drug is controlled. That's why you're required to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Your son's participation in this program necessitates complete secrecy. How would you explain his condition to emergency staff? If this were made public, your family would be financially ruined. There's severe legal consequences from the action you've suggested. You've no alternative. Either do as I ask or your son may die." Bad Medicine Chronicles Ch. 01 She frantically exclaimed, "Die? Oh my god, how? I don't understand. Okay, I'll do it. I'll help!" The therapist's right, she thought, this is a serious medical situation and I've no reason to feel embarrassed for touching him. It's not sexual, it's medically necessary to diagnose the seriousness of his condition. The mother moved to stand beside her son, but found it difficult to act. She needed guidance. "What was it you needed me to do? I seem to be in a tizzy over this. Please explain?" The therapist instructed her to squat beside him while facing the camera. When the mother's eyes became level with her son's crotch, she averted her eyes. The therapist then instructed her to reach with both hands and grasp his flaccid penis with one hand and the engorged scrotum with the other. The awkwardness of it made her dreadfully uncomfortable. She found it necessary to redirect her thoughts towards the wall clock and await the diagnosis. So concerned with her son, was she, that she paid little heed to the fact that diverting her hands to grasp his genitals would cause her to release her clasp on the enveloping bath towel. She yelped with a start when it unraveled from her body. In her squatted position, the posture of her knees caused the towel to part at the cleavage and it plunge to the floor behind her. Her body shivered from the cool air. She couldn't help but imagine the sight of herself squatting naked beside her son while holding his enlarged jewels towards the camera. It was a disturbing vision that caused her heart to race. She rationalized that at this particular time, modesty wasn't important when your son's condition required immediate attention. The anxious mother said, "Andy's balls feel so abnormally large and heavy. Argh, I feel his testicles moving and it's making me nauseous. Please, hurry." With her gaze fixed on the clock, she closed her eyes and grimaced. The therapist expressed verbal cues that signified her analyzing the ailment. "Ahah—Ahah, yes, that's it. Lift them a bit higher. Hold." She followed the therapist's instructions, which had her shifting her stance while maneuvering his scrotum for visual inspection. After a period of time, that analytical twaddle had faded to silence. The ending instruction had repositioned the mother's stance into an obscene squatted pose. She hadn't yet realized the depravity of that perverse display. Presently, it simply made her uncomfortable and caused her to shuffle her feet. Her heated complexion marked a rising annoyance with the mission at hand. The continued silence compelled her to anxiously watch the hand on the clock as it repetitively rounded the number twelve. The evaluation was taking far longer than reasonably expected. In aggravation, she casually glanced down at herself and noted the sexually explicit posture that left her knees splayed and her sex fully displayed with a defined gape. To find herself in such a pose was beyond demoralizing. The very idea that she had held that pose for over five minutes in silence while holding her son's cock and balls was the apex of humiliation. Her patience had come to an end. She stood and glared heatedly at the device. "What the hell is going on? You should've diagnose his condition by now. How could leave me in such an undignified posture? I'm so fucking humiliated because you had me hold my son's genitals while in that obscene position. How could you? Damn-it, I'm not fucking happy with any of this. Either explain yourself or were done with this farce. Fucking answer me or—" The sudden burst of irradiated sound blasted from the speakers and caused the mother to flinch. Immediately after, the therapist compassionately said with humility, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I truly do apologize. I had an urgent need to rush to the bathroom and simply forgot to tell you. Oh yes, I certainly saw the truth of your statement. I most definitely agree, if I observed myself naked and squatting obscenely in such a manner while holding a young man's dick and balls, it would make me feel unpleasantly filthy and sinful. The shame from such a vulgar act would weigh heavily upon me. I find it difficult to imagine why you remained in that demeaning pose. I'd assumed you'd have known that I completed my diagnosis. As for my assessment of his condition, I ask that you look for yourself and tell me what color his nuts are." "How was I to know. . . Color? What? I held his genitals up so you could determine his condition. Couldn't you see the color?" The voice from the tiny speakers said, "Mrs. Baker, listen to me, look at your son's balls and tell me what color they are." "Argh, okay." Reluctantly she cast her eyes downward. What she saw was disturbing. It wasn't their abnormal state nor the dramatic flush of the skin that unsettled her. It was the very idea that she held them in her hands and had given no thought to their tint. Recollection of their color prior to being asked to identify it seemed out of reach. Why hadn't she notice it before? A vivid hue such as this would have stood out and been easily noticeable. She nervously mumbled, "Dark blue." "I asked you to look because it was important that you observe the seriousness of his condition. I fear that it's much worse than expected. The enlargement of his testicles are awful, but the fact their dark blue places him in a precarious position that necessitates immediate care." With concern, the mother exclaimed, "What do you mean? What's wrong with my son?" "The medication's influenced a hormonal shift in his biology that's causing him produce an overabundance of potent sperm at an alarming rate. His testicles are essentially in overdrive. That fact alone doesn't concern me. It's what'll happen if all that compressed and creamy seed continues to accumulate. The end result will be catastrophic. His scrotum will explode from the pressure and he'll bleed to death from the rupture." The mother cried out, "Oh my god!" The therapist continued, "Yes, it would be best to pray. However, there is a solution. My prognosis to save him is aberrant and the method I suggest is unorthodox. Frankly, his nuts need to be emptied of all that accumulating sperm. There's no alternative to what I'm suggesting as the reasonable course of action. I certainly know how dreadful that sounds, but it's your duty as his mother to save your son." The therapist's words were shocking. If what the woman said were true, then her son's condition was unnaturally induced and the method diagnosed to resolve it was unconventional with a slant towards absurdity. The tone of the mother's words implied hysteria. She exclaimed, "What are you saying? Help him? How can I possibly help him? He needs to go to a hospital immediately!" "No time, I'm afraid. They can't help him. They'll overreact and surgically remove both testis because they won't understand the nature of his condition. Do you truly wish your son to wake up and find his precious stones had been detached and discarded? You'll be the one he'll blame. He'll despise you. Can you live knowing that you devastated his future? All of this will occur because you made an impulsive and improper decision. Only you have the biology to be effective. Didn't you state that you'll do anything possible to help your son with his treatment?" "Oh Lord, Oh Lord. Yes, I said I'd do anything, but you've taken it out of context from my meaning and twisted it to meet your intended solution. Do you not see how immoral it is? I feel pressured, I just don't know. Oh god, what am I to do?" "You've no choice. If you love your son, you'll save him. The only way to rescue him is to empty his balls of all that compressed cream. That process requires that he ejaculate. He can't shoot the jizz without an erection. His current state makes it impossible to do himself. He'll require sexual stimulation and you're the only person in the room. Frankly, I've provided you a viable answer that'll assuredly eliminate his affliction." "Oh god, I don't know. I'm his mother, it just feels so sinful to do such a thing. Is there no other way?" "Listen, I understand the moral sensitivities that impedes your ability to accept this. However, you need to understand that what your being asked to do isn't sexual. Your actions are a medical necessity that requires an unusual approach to save his life. Trust me, he won't remember what you've done when he wakes. For your own wellbeing, it's essential that you accept your deed as being crucial to resolving a crisis. I hope that's easier to swallow, so to speak." "Oh god, I really don't want to do this, but I don't want him to die. I'll do what I can. What am I to do?" "You're a woman, I'm sure you'll figure it out, but first, I suggest jerking him off. The proper form would be for you to sit on the edge of the bed between his legs. It'll make it more comfortable for you to manipulate his penis. Since your naked already, it'll provide a visual incentive for arousal, but he'll definitely need physical stimulus for this to work. Don't be alarmed, I'm changing my speech to reflect less clinical terminology. He has the capacity to hear and It's my belief that talking sexually will encourage an appropriate response. Since you're tasked to encourage him both visually and physically, it would advantageous for you to talk in a language akin to a whore." "This isn't any form of rational therapy I've ever heard of. This whole idea is crazy and it doesn't feel right. I'm seriously uncomfortable doing this. There has to be another way." "This isn't a normal ailment that follows any clinical guidelines. The urgency of the situation provides no formal alternatives. The only logical course of action is for you to get your son's cock hard by applying direct physical stimulation. Remember your goal is to make him ejaculate. Otherwise, his scrotum will burst from the intense pressure. If you want grandchildren, I suggest that you work harder." "Oh my lord, this is so filthy. He's not reacting to me. His dick is still flaccid. I don't know what I'm doing wrong." "Give it time. A cock requires persistent attention to give rise to the expected outcome. Keep working your hand up-and-down his limp prick. You're doing fine from what I can tell. Try touching his balls with your other hand." The mother's mouth scrunched up tight and her eyes shifted repeatedly about the room to avoid staring at her working hands. Her thoughts drifted to what she must look like as she jerked her son off. That visual imagery was unsettling. How much longer? she thought, I can't keep doing this forever. Am I having any effect on him at all? This is so fucking demeaning. There had to be some clue as to whether the hand job was working. She turned her head upward to look at his face. Her actions froze. He was staring down at her nudity. Specifically, her breasts and the dark mound between her legs. "Oh my god, this is so fucking humiliating. Andy's ogling my pussy! This isn't right, it's wrong to allow this. Do you hear me? My son's staring at me!" She quickly closed her thighs tight and placed her left arm across both breasts to hide her nipples. There was a loud chirp from a mic. The therapist's voice blared angrily from the multifunctional device. "Mrs. Baker, what's wrong with you? Don't hide your nudity from him and especially don't close your legs. For Christ sake, let him see your mature twat. It's visual stimulus, remember. Young men need to see a woman's boobs and pussy. It turns them on. You've forgotten your objective. Personally, I find it odd that your ashamed to display yourself. I told you, he won't remember seeing your impropriety. It's essential that you open your legs very wide to display your hairy gash." The whole discourse was bizarre and twisted. It became clear, at that specific moment, that exhibiting her sex in such a manner was outrageous. How did she allow herself to be backed against a wall? Why was she given only one door to escape through? Why did she find it difficult to create a door of her own? In many ways, she understood the intent of the deed and what it was meant to achieve. She agreed that it made sense if morbidly interpreted as such. However, what she was being asked to accept was too extreme. The act was too vulgar and it produced doubt. In her agitated state, she finally worked up the nerve to express her concern. "You've got to be joking me? Your trying to justify the sin as therapeutic necessity to relieve his condition. Do you not see how wrong this is? Displaying myself in this manner is unacceptable. Allowing him to stare at pussy is sick. Jerking him off is one thing, but this is deviant. For Christ sake, I'm his mother." The voice that replied was smug and patronizing. "You've brought it up so often that I feel it's an attempt to convince yourself that you're his mother. Personally, I see it as a stone that weighs down your hand and inhibits your ability to act. Now more than ever, the young man needs you. You refuse because showing your coochie to him violates your sensitivities and makes you feel naughty. Bah, I see your concerns misplaced and irrational. You've placed your morality above what's required to save his life. Your refusal to act is damming. If Andy dies from your inaction, how do you explain to your husband that his gonads exploded because you failed to fulfill your promise? A mother would do what's necessary. I've told you, there's no alternative. It's not a sin to display your nudity to your son if it saves his life. Are we not born into this world naked and on display? It's a backward society and a frigid culture that determines what's moral and those codes of decency change like the flip of a coin. It's essential that you get him hard. It's a known fact that the longer you do it, the easier it becomes to accept. We're wasting crucial time discussing your aversions to the unseemly task. Do it!" The therapist's unyielding persuasion to justify the perversion caused her to relent. Regardless of the woman's attempt to validate the sin, she felt horrible over the wicked act she now performed. What was wrong with her? Why was it becoming increasingly difficult to take any other decisive action that was contrary to the course laid before her by the therapist? Why did she so easily accept the idea that there was no other alternative? Karen was aware that there was more going on than her difficulty at making decisions. The pleasant tingle in her loins was a sign that troubled her most. It was now the real reason this appalling act needed to end. As earlier, her thoughts became visual imagery of herself sitting naked with her hands wrapped around her son's dick. That awful thought should have annoyed her, but instead it aroused her. A mother placed in these circumstances shouldn't experience something so abnormal. She made the attempt to change the scenario playing in her head to something distasteful that would distract her thoughts. When she altered the fantasy, she imagined herself reaching down between her open legs to spread her nether lips. She screamed, "Oh lord, I can't keep doing this! This needs to stop, before I—Damn-it. Listen to me, he's not getting hard. I don't know why it's not working. Since it's not working, were done, right? He's in crisis and needs help, but I've failed to give him an erection. I don't see any other choice. He needs to go to a hospital! This needs to end." The therapist decided it was best to shift the mother's thoughts from rationalizing her situation by fueling the urgency. "I promise that his dreadful condition will end if you follow my instructions. His circumstances have worsened. Time is critical and his need for an erection is essential. Do you really believe a doctor would jerk your son off? That's foolish, a physician would never do such a thing. It's simply ludicrous. Perhaps a nurse would, but do you really want to take that chance. How many times do we need to discuss this? Your continued reluctance to do what's necessary is discouraging. A mother would save her son. Now listen to me, I feared that your balmy hand on his dick wouldn't be enough. I'm convinced that a different approach must be taken. Most assuredly, something warm and wet around his cock will produce the proper result. I see no alternative." "Are you insane? I don't understand. I don't know—so confused. What are you suggesting? You're not implying that I put him in my mouth? My god, that's even more perverse than jerking him off." "Yes, that's exactly what's required. The feel of a woman's mouth around his dick would most assuredly be the stimulus to cause arousal. Even though he's in a sleep like state, he still sees everything clearly. Watching his mother's mouth pleasure his shaft will certainly aid in stimulating him. You have no choice available, you must suck his dick." "No, this is madness. You can't be serious. I can't give my son a blowjob. A mother giving her son a blowjob is wrong. Just the thought—Oh god, it's fucking sick. Just jerking him off made me we—fuck, forget it, I'm blabbering." The therapist's calmly said, "Hun, relax. Your just agitated. Listen, we once had a President state that receiving and giving blowjobs wasn't sex. He depicted the act as a simple handshake. Do you understand? Sucking dick isn't a big deal. It's like giving your son a pleasant greeting. If you view it from that perspective, it may be easier to accept. I'm sure you've given your husband plenty of blowjobs. Just think of it as another man's cock in your mouth. I'm sure you've had several over your lifetime. If it helps, close your eyes and think of him as your husband. Answer honestly, does sucking your husband's cock arouse you?" "Why are you asking such a question? What does that have to do with Andy's situation? Damn-it, yes, I do become aroused when I give oral sex. That's why I can't do this. I can't control how my body reacts to the act. This is different, it's my son you're asking me to pleasure orally. How could I live with the knowledge that I became—Argh, you know exactly what I'm trying to say. You can't ask this of me. I won't do it. I simply can't do as you ask." The therapist's voice was spoken as accusation, but it's tone was meant to tease. "Admit it hun, you like being nasty and the very idea of having his cock in your mouth makes you cream, doesn't it?" "What? I can't believe you just said that. How could you say something so vulgar? I'm not answering a sick question like that. I'm done. I'm not doing this. Hell no. What kind of therapist are you? I find the position you've placed me in as unsettling and morbid. I'm calling an ambulance!" The therapist calmly said, "Hun, it was simply sexual banter to lighten your mood. I must warn you, that calling for an ambulance is futile. They won't make it in time. Even if they did, I seriously doubt a medic would suck your son's dick. Before you decide, you need to see just how serious his condition has become. Look at his balls. Do it!" The sight of her son's engorged ball sack had swollen to the point that previous warnings from the therapist were now heeded as truth. She no longer doubted the predicted outcome. An ambulance would never make it in time. Even if they did, an EMT would never stimulate her son orally. Her choices had been narrowed to only one option. She panicked. "Oh my god, they're larger. We need to do something. I don't want my boy to die. I don't know what to do. Please, help me. Tell me what needs to be done." "The required task is quite obvious. Have we not discussed what you're required to do? Understandably, the stress has made it difficult for you to act without guidance. Your fortunate that I'm here to direct your action. Your intended goal is to pleasure him orally with your mouth and tongue. Remember, he needs an erection. Hurry, time's ticking." Bad Medicine Chronicles Ch. 01 "Okay, god-damn-it, I'll suck his dick." "Don't worry, I'll guide your slutty mouth on his pecker. Just like that. Very good, you're doing great. Lick, suck, and slurp it with eagerness. If he sees a woman working his dick like a whore, it may do the trick." Karen's brow rose and her eyes widened upon hearing that statement. She pulled her mouth from her son's semi-rigid dick. Her face was flushed red. "What the hell did you say? Sucking dick like a whore? I'm not a harlot!" "Of course you're not. Calm down, it's simply role-play with the intent to arouse him. Honestly, it'd be more invigorating if he heard his mother talking dirty to him. As you suck his dick, occasionally stop and talk nasty. Look at that erect cock. I told you your mouth would prompt a reaction. You're really good at that this by the way. I wouldn't stop when your finally making headway. Stop talking to me and talk dirty to your son. Put your mouth back on his prick." "How long do I have to keep this up?" "That's actually a stupid question. It's obvious that your thoughts are dawdled. As stated earlier, you need to suck his dick until he ejaculates. Remember your objective. He needs to expel his seed." The mother gave no reply. To save him, she concentrated entirely on the job at hand. Pleasuring a cock was a long and repetitive process that required her to constantly bobble her head and sporadically lick the shaft and ballbag." When the therapist asked if sucking her son's cock made her wet, her answer was simply an unintelligible mumble of sound intermingled with the watery noises produced as her mouth glided along his fleshy tube. She admitted to herself that she was shamefully aroused. That knowledge was a demeaning fact. Moreover, a depravity such as this wasn't new to her. When she had decided to raise a family, the past had been locked away along with the associated memories. Those sins were a multitude of transgressions so diabolical that to think upon them now made her cringe. What was happening to her was proof that God hadn't forgotten or forgiven. He was truly vindictive and cruel. At first, she was troubled by the fact that her pussy was lubricating itself, but the truth was more disturbing. The longer she pleasured him orally, the less distasteful it became. It was the human condition that if a person does something long enough, they tend to become complacent and accepting. She became comfortable and accepted the idea of his dick in her mouth and that signified something she was unwilling to contemplate. It no longer bothered her to give him a blowjob and that was traumatizing. Looking up at her son's unblinking stare, she became even more determined to help him. It was at that moment that she licked the tip of the bulbous head and then said, "You like mommy sucking your big dick don't you. Come on sweetheart, just release your load." The atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency. She could think of no other way to coax him into releasing his seed. She was convinced that the therapist's suggestion was the best way to save him. That important task overshadowed the shame and guilt she felt. She worked on his dick with vigor. Everything she did was meant to entice him into discharging his burden. "Come on honey, just shoot it in mommy's mouth. It's okay, you can let it go. Baby, you need to hurry. Please, cum for me. I can't keep this up forever." She slobbered excessively on his dick. The saliva dribbled down her chin, it trickled between her legs and matted her hairy mound with unnecessary wetness. Each dribble was like an erotic tap against her clit which produced an unwanted reaction. This chilling thrill caused her to involuntarily shiver. This was a sign of something familiar, yet unusual. Its imminent progression caused her to panic. "Oh my, no, no, no. This can't be happening—not with my son." Her disturbing outburst was the cue that prompted the therapist to intercede and move the game forward. It was suggested that she guide her son's hands to her ample breasts and then reach between her legs with one hand to rub herself. She complied without hesitation. His touch upon her was electrifying. They roamed upon her corpulent orbs like explorers seeking some hidden treasure. Her thoughts were disjointed as she tried desperately to rationalize what was happening. What Andy did next was unexpected and the stimulation from the act was the tipping point that caused her body to flush with a radiant heat. "Oh dear. . . No, baby, please. Don't tease mommy's nipples. Oh god, not now. Not when I'm—" She felt the familiar sensation and feared to let it happen. The additional stimulation of her hand upon her clit was making it impossible to hold back. Don't give in to it, she told herself. Your son needs you to stay on task. Her dilemma was now direr than before. The importance for ending this catastrophe had increased, not only for her son, but especially for herself. The urgency of the situation had shifted and she was now passionately driven to bring his condition to a quick conclusion. Her mouth and tongue played against his tool with increased resolve. She tasted pre-cum and it excited her. This exhilaration prompted her to further degrade herself by rubbing his cock between the cleavage of her tits and then caress the head of his dick with her flickering tongue. "That's it, baby. Watch mommy rub your cock between her big boobs. Please, cum for me." The tone of her words were now spoken in a manner driven by a feverish lust. What she said was sinfully nasty and it added fuel to her passion. She wanted him to cum, but it wasn't to save him. There was now a driving urge to taste it and feel him upon her skin. What was happening to her wasn't natural. She knew her body would never react to sexual stimulus to this degree. It was impossible for her to understand what was influencing her libido and sending it into overdrive. She had become super horny. With the continued exertion to persuade him into ejaculating, it produced the urge to pleasure herself. The result was a pleasant surge that prompted her body to shudder. "Ohhh . . . God no, don't let this happen. Ahhh . . ." She gave up the fight. Her body trembled and her eyes fluttered from the orgasm. "Yesss . . ." As it subsided she stared up at her son's blank stare. Tears formed at the corner of both eyes and her mouth quivered. "What's wrong with me?" Those sorrowful words were short lived and the question was left unanswered. Her son's hands on her bountiful breasts rekindled the fire. Her desperate words were unintelligible. Once again, she quivered from a climax. This couldn't go on. Two orgasms within thirty seconds of each other and both driven from manipulation of her tits and clit were impossible. Women become aroused from touch, but they don't have insane orgasms from such actions. Again, that passionate upwelling was mounting. This erotic nightmare of endless climaxes needed to end. Andy needed to unload. It was the only thing that would save her. Karen screamed out in desperation, "Please, son, you need to cum for me! I need this to end. There has to be a better solution. Why won't he cum? I beg you, help me. I can't do this anymore. It's making me—Damn-it. Sucking his cock makes me horny!" The therapist answered, "Oh, I certainly see the truth of that. Your performance was specifically meant to alleviate his suffering, but you took it further than intended. I'm perturbed that you found it necessary to pleasure yourself over saving your son. What does such actions say about you? Regardless, despite your best effort, you've failed to help him. There's no alternative, you have to take it to the next level. I'll help relax and prepare you for what comes next." "Next level? Prepare me? For what?" "Hun, you've been sucking his cock like a rabid whore for quite a while. Even with the fervor you've shone at sucking his dick, you've only been able to make yourself come. He doesn't appear to be anywhere close to ejaculating. Perhaps the drugs are affecting him in some manner. There's only one logical step. It's the only viable alternative that ensures an ending to his condition." "No. You can't mean for me to—oh, god no, I can't do that. Doing what you suggest is crossing the line. It would truly damn me. You saw what happened. I can't trust myself. Something's very wrong with me. I feel it. Just thinking about my son's dick makes me—Damn-it, the very idea makes me fucking horny and it's not natural." There was a pause as her eyes shifted towards his erect dick. It made her feel nasty like a slut. She ran a finger across her overly sensitive clit. It drove the desire to envelope the bulbous head. She couldn't constrain the yearning to tilt forward. Her mouth opened in an attempt to swallow his girth. When it reached the tip, she stopped in place and her eyes fixated upon his balls. The sight of that mammoth sized ball-sack broke the obsessive lustful need. Andy needed her and she was failing him. Just as the therapist said, she placed her own sexual fulfilment over her son's urgent care. She stiffened and found herself incapable of deciding a course of action. His cock needed a woman and her pussy was the only one available. She reacted by clambering back upon the bed and curling into a ball. The despair she felt was maddening. Moving both hands to her face, she wailed out her misery. She cried out, "I don't know what to do! I don't know. This is too much. It's too much. Too much. What to do? I don't know. . ." Her words droned out and became a series of incoherent mumbles. She turned her head towards the electronic device and yelled, "Tell me what to do!" A calm voice resonated from the speakers. It was firm, yet parental in tone. "Relax, dear. I know what you're thinking. You fear that you'll enjoy copulating with your son. Your mind is flooded with questions. You ask yourself, after today, what comes after? Will I be able to look at him without wetting my panties? Will I be able to cope with the knowledge that I fornicated with my son? Could I live with the fact that he'll never reciprocate his love in the way I really want him to? Your son will never know the sacrifice you've made to save his life. He'll never know the truth nor the cost you paid. I'm not going to sugar coat this for you. The real truth is that after today, there's no putting the genie back in the bottle. You'll never be the woman you were. What your about to do will change you forever. Please understand, you're not alone. Only you and I know the truth. When you find yourself unable to cope, you have only to come to me for guidance. I'll direct your life to its proper path. Do you understand all that I've said?" The mother began sobbing. She shamefully said, "God-damn-it, I've already changed. What you've asked me to do was so degrading and reprehensible, yet, everything I did turns me on. It's abnormal. A woman doesn't behave like this. I've never felt like this. Something's wrong with me. Why am I so fucking horny? It's not going away!" "Hun, relax, what your experiencing can be rationalized. You've been asked to help your son in ways that are quite personal. Although, the intent is to save him, the actions are sexual and it's somehow stimulated a need within yourself to be satisfied. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. Honestly, I feel it would be easier if you accept your desires and gave in to your inhibitions. For now, we have a more pressing matter. Let's table this discussion for our next session." "If I do this, I need a promise. I won't do this unless you agree." "Hun, it depends. Tell me what's on your mind." "No fucking. I'll allow penetration, but not the action. It's the only way I can justify this. I can live with the concept that his penis was inserted in my vagina, but I'd be distraught over the alternative. You need to promise you'll stop me if I get carried away." "I certainly agree. Penetration only. I was going to suggest that. It's my belief that your tight warm twat will be all that's needed. However, I'm not physically there, so I don't have the means to stop you. I suggest that you allow me to guide you through the ordeal. I'll direct the proper action that's required to save your son. Do you understand what I've suggested?" "You'll help me through this?" "Most certainly. I'll guide your hand though the whole process. Let me put your mind at ease. I can't make you do something you don't want to do. It's simply impossible. Any questions before we begin?" "Something about this feels all wrong and I'm nervous. Are you sure there's no other alternative?" "Yes, there's one." "What is it, tell me, please! Tell me!" "Anal." "Hell no! No anal. My vagina, that's where my son's dick goes. Tell me what you want me to do." "I agree with you. Andy's dick definitely needs to go into his mother's fuckhole. First, grab a couple of pillows and as you lay back, place them under your hips. This will raise your vulva and open it wider for penetration. Next, grab his hard cock and work it along your slit and against your clit. You're essentially masturbating with your son's dong in your hand. The stimulation will keep him hard and lubricate your whorish cunt for penetration." "Wait, that sounds so filthy. Oh dear, I'm not sure this is a good idea." "You'll be fine. It's the only path to the conclusion that you and I both want." "Jesus, I can't believe I'm doing this." "Well, you are doing it. I see it quite clearly. You're doing a fine job of it too. Just as I've always envisioned you would. That's it, open your legs wider. Let the young man see his mother's pussy. I guarantee that he'll stay hard if he watches you open your snatch wide to show how sinfully wet you are. Remember, no fucking. Absolutely, no in-and-out. This is penetration only." "I know this was my idea and at first it made sense, but now I'm concerned. Playing with his dick and rubbing it against my mound is affecting me. We need to hurry, tell me the differences between penetration and fucking." "Your allowing him to penetrate you because it's a medical necessity. Your reasons are to save a young man's life. Fucking is sexual in nature and specific to lust, passion, love, and procreation. If you had intercourse with your son, it would be fucking. Fucking your son would be incest. Having incest with your son would classify you specifically as a degenerate incestuous cock whore. Yes, as you stated, you're to avoid fucking your son at all costs." "I'm going to hell for this. I just know it. I can't believe I'm going through with it." "Relax. Your simply nervous. This would be difficult for any mother to allow. You said you'll do anything possible to help him and I truly believe you now. Relax and stare at the overhead light. Focus on the light and let your worries drift away. Does the light relax you?" "Yes." "Very good, breath in. Now, exhale and count down from ten to one. Relax. I want you to view your son's dick as your favorite dildo. Feel it and visualize it as something wonderful that makes you extremely wet. Do you feel relaxed?" "Yes." "Now, begin using the phallus to pleasure yourself. That's it, rub it up and down your slit. Use your other hand to open your inner lips and gape your cunt." "Ahhh. . ." "Up and down, just like that. As you moisten, gradually slide the tip of the knob into you. Relax. Does it feel good to use the flexible bauble against your sex?" "Oh, god yes. I've never felt something so wonderful." "Does the pleasure toy excite you?" "Oh, shit yah, I'm fucking soaked. I'm so god-damn horny." "That's it. Continue to rub it up-and-down. Tickle that engorged clit. As you become lubricated, stretch the opening of your pussy to accommodate the shaft and slide it further into you. Relax." "Ohhh. . ." "The stiff dong is a perfect fit and comfortable. You now desire to feel it penetrate you. Do you want to feel the girth of the fleshy toy?" "Yes." "Do you want to feel the length?" "Oh, oh, god yes." "Grab his hips with both hands, pull it further into you. Very good. How does it feel?" "Ummm. . . So big. Makes me horny." "Yes, you are. Your very aroused, but you want more. Sex toys are used for pleasure. You desire satisfaction, yes?" "Oh god, yes. I need more. I want it." "Take your legs and wrap them around his waist. Use them to pull the toy further into you." "Oh my, I feel it" "Now, use your hands to push his hips back from you. Repeat the process. That's it, push-and-pull. Keep up that pace, you're doing fine." "This feels so—like fucking. Ahhh . . . Fucking love it." "Continue that rhythm. Let the pleasure from that action envelope you and close your eyes. Fantasize. Arouse yourself. Repeat the process at a faster pace." "Ummm. . ." "That's very good. I see nothing wrong with your decision to gyrate your hips and push yourself onto it. You've become accustomed to feeling the length sliding in-and-out of you, yes?" "Ohhh . . . Fuck yah! It fills me. Feels wonderful." "Does your action make you feel like a nasty slut?" "Yes! I feel like such a slut." "It's essential that your favorite dildo reach your depths. Use your inner muscles to clamp down on the shaft. Let it feel your love." Those words were enticing and made her too horny to stop. They produced a reaction that had her consistently gyrating and lunging her hips forward. She fantasized and dreamily gazed down at her pussy as it chafed relentlessly against his pubic mound. The therapist was now convinced that it was time. She said, "You want the shaft buried until it's crown bangs against your cervix. You desire the tip to go as far into you as possible. Just like that. Keep it up, you're doing great. You've reached a plateau where there's no turning back. Listen to me, no relaxing, wake up and observe your sin for what it truly is. You have an obligation to bang his cock like a whore. Your task is to fuck Andy's rigid dick until he expels his seed." Karen's lustful gaze became attentive and then widened in alarm. "What? Oh my god! What am I doing? Fucking? Fucking my son?" There was a pause as she momentarily choked on her words. Once recovered, she exclaimed, "No, please, no, I'm fucking, Andy! You're supposed to stop me! What have you done? You talked me into fucking him. Don't understand? Why would you?" The gadget produced sounds of static and then a series of electronic chirps followed by some heavy breathing against the mic, but no verbal reply. The mother lustfully cried out, "Jesus, I'm too horny to stop! Can't—stop! Ohhh. . . Fuck. . ." Immediately after those turbulent words, a droning moan resounded from the multifunctional device. At the end, it chirped and the muffled sounds of a female struggling to recoup her breath emanated from it. Moments later, the therapist's ruffled voice broadcast outward. Her tone seemed sincere when she said, "I realized early on that simple penetration wouldn't be enough. I'm sorry, I had no choice. Accept this as the only practical way to make him cum. You'll need to fuck like a degenerate to produce the result." "I would never—" "Obviously." The mother cried out one step below the apex of her climax. "Not—my son. So good, can't stop. So wrong. Ohhh. . . God, I'm coming!" She tensed and her legs constricted and forcefully pulled his hips towards her. The intensity of that action caused his body to fall heavily on top of her. She squealed from the jarring ache as his cock plunged like a spear to ram her depths. She groaned from his weight, but whimpered sexually as her heated twat pounded against him. Bad Medicine Chronicles Ch. 01 While fucking him, she placed one hand on each side of his chin and fastened her gaze upon his unfocused expression. Her lips puckered inward and the stare she gave implied yearning. On the edge, she lunged forward and interlocked her mouth to his. It was a one-sided shameless kiss. That passionate embrace was the calling card to trumpet her climatic event. The dramatic surge motivated her to feverishly bucked her pelvis with short, powerful thrusts. Her body trembled as the orgasm consumed her soul. As it subsided, she gasped for breath. His dead weight now suffocated her. It was an immense struggle, but she managed to flip him so he lay prone upon his back. While seated beside him upon the bed, she pivoted her knees to her chin and cocked her head to the side to observe the glistening shaft arching outward from his crotch. She sighed and then turned her head to look downward between her knees. The crack between her butt cheeks where it coupled with the bed was puddled with her wetness. That puddle grew as tears rained down upon it. "What have I done?" she cried. Her body quaked as she wept. She cocked her head to glare sheepishly at the manipulative device. She wailed, "Why did you do this to me? You did something to me. You had too, it's the only thing that makes sense. Why would you manipulate me into doing this? I feel so unclean. So sinful. Everything feels so wrong. I don't understand. I don't know what to do. How do I live with this? I'm done." "Hun, I didn't make you do anything. I simply offered you guidance. Regardless, the problem still exists." The mother's sobbing ceased, her glare befuddled. The therapist continued her dialog by saying, "Seriously, you're not done. You were so engaged on pleasuring yourself with your son's dick that you've failed your objective. The young man still has an urgency that requires he ejaculate." The mother screamed, "No!" The therapist replied, "My response to that striking word—no choice. He will indeed die if his balls aren't emptied. Your duty, as a mother, is to spur him into the act. There's no other option. Have you not already fucked him? You only need to do this until he expels his seed. Then you're done." "Oh Lord, please help me. I don't know what I'm to do." "It's quite simple, dear. You squat over him and mount his cock. Your only purpose is to use that filthy whorish cunt of yours to make him cum. Do you have the fortitude to do what's required? His condition is too extreme and there can be no delays. He'll only ejaculate if you put all of your energy into the task. This means you need to fuck him like a real whore. No more fucking cock to pleasure yourself. Do you understand what I'm suggesting you do?" She truly understood what the vile woman suggested. Those instructions were like a knife to her gut. She had no need to look at the blue tinted malformation between his legs to motivate herself into action. There was no hesitation or argument over the matter. She would do what's required. There was now a determination to save him. She wouldn't fail, not now, not ever. She moved to straddle him and then lowered her torso while burying his manhood between her puckered slit. She ignored his gawking stare, placed his hands upon her hanging boobs and rode him like a whore. Again, that raging sensation of arousal swelled as it had before. "Ohhh. . . I'm—fucken—whore—feels so good." Again and again, she fucked him. Make him cum, she kept telling herself. The therapist's voice had become a repeating echo. "Save him. Fuck him like a whore." She pivoted at the waist until her swaying tits raked against his chest. She dropped her weight upon him. Her intent was to skewer his throbbing rod deep so he would feel her love. She cried out, "Oh baby, you need to cum. I can't keep doing this. I'll even let you shoot it in me." Her zealous words became rationalized and those thoughts became questions. My goodness, what did I agree to do? Did I just urge him to ejaculate his seed into me? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does the thought of that turn me on so much? In that instant, she realized the true depth of her sin. There was awareness of what she had been turned into. From experience, she knew that there was no reversing the course of this degradation. This transformation was just a single step in a branching road of depravity. She knew, because she and her husband had done similar to many others. Those abominable deeds had come full circle and she was now the victim. She wailed, "Oh my god, I'm a fucking whore!" Regardless of this knowledge, she couldn't deceive herself. The truth was that the perversity of this incestuous coupling excited her. In her aroused state, she had no choice but to accept it. She desperately exclaimed, "Do it! Shoot your fucking jizz in my cunt. Fucking, give it to me!" The therapist's voice intruded upon the mother's whorish ride. In a clinically neutral tone, she said, "You've believed yourself infertile, but that's never been a fact. In months to come, you'll find that medical diagnosis was a delusion. You'll soon experience the full weight of that truth, just as I was forced to experience it. You'll fear the potency of his creamy seed, yet you'll be incapable of denying your desire for it. Listen to me, Mrs. Baker. I suggest you imagine your son's scrotum is the size of a grapefruit. Envision the contents of something that large. How much creamy compressed cum would fit in that container? As his mother, I suggest that you experience the full sensation of his ejaculation. You'll feel and react as if he ejaculated the quantity contained by a grapefruit. Everything suggested will now be experienced by you and you'll react accordingly like a whore." The mother listened, but had not rationalized the meaning. She was simply too absorbed in her incestuous debauchery and the thrilling pleasure it produced. However, she could clearly see the size of his grapefruit sized balls. She then questioned, how much cum would he have accumulated in a container that size? What happened next was unexpected and it answered her query. He ejaculated. Her eyes to widen from his surprise gift. Her mouth opened in an oval as she expressed an exultation to commemorate this extraordinary occurrence. "Ahhh. . ." reverberated out like a long string of climatic music. What happened was unlike any experience in her lifetime. The highly potent and compressed seed was expelled with explosive power at a high velocity. She felt the expulsion of this payload and her body quivered. She felt his cream as it billowed out like condensed foam around their incestuous coupling. She could feel it streamed down her crack like a tributary and puddle like a sticky goo between them. Unlike any other time in her life, her body had become highly sensitive to every sensation that produced arousal. Every aspect of his ejaculation was felt with intensity. She sensed the pulsing flesh of his cock as it continuously pumped large spurts of cum into her depths. It didn't stop. "Ohhh. Ohhh—yes, yes, yes." The sensation produced from these imaginary continuous ejaculations was a sexual stimulus that caused her to repeatedly orgasm. It felt natural, but she knew without a doubt that what was happening wasn't rational. With every spurt from the tip of his cock, her orgasms merged in concert like a time symphony of dualistic prose. The therapist watched in amazement as the whore gyrated her cunt and continuously thrust herself upon her son's cock. That coupling was akin to a seesaw where each fictional ejaculation spurred her to orgasm. The mother's sinful reaction to that stimulation urged him spurt more seed. It was an unending cycle that made her giggle with amusement. Eventually, there had to be a conclusion. The mother had indeed emptied her son's balls of all his potent cum. She had committed herself to saving her son. In return, she received his seed, which she perceived was equal measure to that contained by a grapefruit. The correct perception was the fact that it was really a tablespoon away from the real truth. Karen felt relieved when the task was accomplished. The numerous orgasms had left her spent and exhausted. She reached the stage that the energy to sustain the coupling had been depleted. She struggled to pull herself off and then sluggishly flopped onto the bed to lay prone beside him. She stared with fixation at the open gash between her legs. Reaching a hand between her thighs, she dipped a finger in her snatch. She grimaced as she imagined the amount of creamy jizz flowing from her pussy with each contraction. With four fingers, she scooped up a string of cum and brought it to her mouth to lick it with her tongue. Her thoughts started as simple questions, like, how much did he shoot into me? It ended with, oh my god, what am I going to do? While tilting her head to the side to glance at her son, she grasped the bed sheet and began wiping the endless stream of spunk leaking from her gaping slit. What she had done seemed unreal. It felt like an erotic dream and a whorish nightmare rolled into one event. She couldn't help but look over at the dribble leaking from his dick. What she felt confirmed that something was wrong with her. The urge to lick the clear fluid seeping from its tip was proof of it. If it weren't for exhaustion, she'd be unable to constrain that craving. Her weariness was too great to feel despair over that whorish compulsion. Her other problem was that she couldn't conceive of any solution to him laying naked and docile beside her. The therapist would suggest a best course of action, but that woman had gone silent. She had no choice. She'd deal with the aftermath tomorrow. The only thing she desired most was sleep. She closed her eyes. With her hand rubbing her nub, she began to drift deeper into slumber. The therapist's voice blared like a loud alarm through the tiny speakers of the device. "Mrs. Baker, wake up! You can't leave Andy in his current state. More than likely, you'll need to guide him back to his room." Karen rolled to her side and curled with the sheet between her legs. Her voice was lethargic when she replied, "Leave me alone. I'm done. I'm—" Again, the voice trumpeted with warning. "Dear, you're not done. If Andy wakes and finds himself laying naked beside his mother as she dreamily plays with her pussy, how would you explain that? How could you explain his genitals being caked with dried cum and female secretions? You're a fool! I can't help you if you allow your son to be traumatized in such a manner. Once the truth came out, no one could save you. You need to wake the fuck up!". The mother shot up into a seated position on the bed. Her panicked eyes expressed acknowledgement and understanding of therapist's warning. The woman was right, she couldn't just leave him laying naked beside her. She was fortunate that he hadn't already awakened from all the fucking. She then envisioned her husband walking into the room when he returned from work and found his son and wife in the positions described by the therapist. It would be catastrophic. It would be a disaster of her making and all because she did nothing. She shrieked, "I don't know what to do. Tell me!" The therapist replied, "The best possible solution is to clean your whorish filth from his cock and balls by using your mouth and tongue. All of his cum will need to be cleaned from the sheet in a similar manner. Your trashy cunt will also need attention. After you complete your cleaning, I suggest that you take a razor to that hairy mound of sin and shave it smooth. Not an inkling of even one hair. Bare as a new born babe to commemorate your new role. Those are the only viable options. Don't you agree?" "I don't know. Couldn't I just use a wet tow—" "Nonsense! Your mouth is more than adequate for the task. You practically cleaned him earlier by slobbering whorishly on his prick. It's my preferred method. You requested that I give you a solution and I gave you the answer. If you continue to question my directive, then you're wasting my time. When I give you guidance, you do not hesitate, you jump to the task as instructed. Do you understand?" The therapist's words came out as a seething demand meant to scold her. Karen was completely indecisive. Solutions to problems now eluded her. The therapist's guidance had led her to save her son. It was almost like the woman had an answer for every dilemma. It seemed impractical not follow the woman's studious direction. In her current state of mind, the solution to this problem was sound. She was compelled to comply, if for no other reason but to please the woman. She reacted without hesitation and dropped to her knees before her son. She found pleasure in the task to cleanse her filth from his dick and balls. Again, the surge of arousal filled her being. She didn't fight it. Her task shifted from cleaning and moved to sucking and licking his cock. Once again, the stimulation produced by her mouth gave rise to an erection. His boner excited her. The therapist said, "Wonderful. I'm grateful that you've found wisdom from my guidance and view it as valuable. It's my purpose to lead you down a path that will make you a new woman. You truly do love sucking cock, don't you? Most assuredly, you'll soon have many more to pleasure." The mother was too fixated on pleasuring her son and herself. She didn't reply. "Now listen up, what I'm about to say next is extremely important. Acknowledge that you hear me." The mother moaned an incoherent reply that was muffled by the dick in her mouth. "You have another problem, depending on how you perceive it. It seems the drug's still active in his system. I wouldn't bring this up, except I know how pleasurable it is for you to save him." The mother's brows arched as she muttered a muffled, "Huh?" Holding his shaft in her left hand, she reached with her right to touch his balls. She pulled back. His cock popped from her mouth and a long string of gooey saliva arched downward from its bloated tip. Her reaction was one of hysteria. She screamed, "Oh my god, not again! Tell me what I need to do!" *** The story continues with Bad Medicine Chronicles, Chapter 02.