9 comments/ 33040 views/ 26 favorites Mother and Child Communion By: Smokey125 SS43: "Mother And Child Communion" *** This story's working title was "The Lyin,' The Snitch And The Wardrobe," but that wouldn't have served very well as a real title, for a few reasons. It went through another clumsy, unwieldy title, then the one I finally settled on: a play on the old Paul Simon song "Mother And Child Reunion." This is another first for me; I've written a few stories about sexuality in the mother-daughter relationship dynamic, in the areas of discipline and punishment—on both ends ("Redefining Punishment" parts one and two, "Step-Mommie Dearest," the fantasy scene in "Costly Confusion")—and yet this is my very first one with blood relatives, and that will have fallen into the Incest category. So with a debut foray into this more out-there category, I tried to handle this decently delicately, and put some real heart and love into it (and TEN song quotes at the end (!!)). *** January 6th, 8:24 a.m. A light snowfall blanketed the city in an afghan-similar pattern, at an only slightly higher concentration on the north end of town than the south. Citizens proceeded about their normal Tuesday business like any other weekday just having followed ringing in the new year. The sun had to fight its way through the cloudy sky to brighten things up, but level of morning visibility sufficed. There wasn't much change among the occupants up and down the odd-numbered 700-block of Sullivan Avenue, especially at the corner-nearing 727. And that was precisely the source of conflict this morning. Vivian Emmy Hughes sighed in frustration. Alone at home only for the time being, she was soon to serve her 9:00 to 5:00 shift at the office of First Parties, just like every day, and while mainly sitting at a computer—her technology skills far outmatching her social skills, quite frankly—was hardly demanding on her easygoing nature, the least her superiors asked was that she appear work-presentable. An undeniably reasonable request. The only problem was that as she explored her closet for an at least semi-suitable professional outfit for the day, she once again came to the exasperating realization that before having departed herself to kick-start her own day, Vivian's daughter, Rebecca, had taken the liberty of "borrowing" her clothes. And not for the first time; far from it. In fact, Vivian had just about had it. Now grown, her daughter had bloomed into just about Vivian's own same size, and this problematic pattern had developed fairly recently. It currently happened usually once every couple of days or so, as if Rebecca had figured out that if she took attire from her Mom's supply every day, her Mom would easily notice. Apparently, Vivian thought, she wasn't being given credit to take note of it happening only every other day. It was not the fact that Becky liked to look like her mother by wearing her things that bothered Vivian. It would almost be flattering, were she granted the privilege to actually know beforehand. It was that she was to always find out by accident later, as Rebecca never asked, or gave her Mom so much as a heads-up, prior to ransacking her wardrobe. What Rebecca didn't seem to grasp was that had she taken the time and courtesy to simply ask, Vivian would be only more than happy to pass on some of her finer, attractive garments to her only child. She still wouldn't personally understand why, with a closet full of her own articles Becky wanted hers, but Vivian would support her nevertheless. It would bring back fond memories of Becky's childhood when she and Vivian used to play hours of dress-up. Rebecca always seemed to have an affinity for anything wearable that looked pretty on her. During these early formative years, most kids tried to steer their folks towards Toys 'Я' Us or Candy World while out shopping together; Rebecca Hughes grabbed her Mom's hand and practically dragged her along whenever a GapKids swam into view. Most children were disenchanted by the revelation of clothing as Christmas or birthday gifts; Rebecca was thrilled. The appreciation for smart threads was certainly played into partially by genetics. Vivian had always had a decently keen eye for fashion, as now did also her daughter. And each time Vivian noticed missing apparel in her closet, she was prompted for just a moment to consider the compliment that her little girl wanted to be like her Mom, looking like her, dressed for success. Only the incongruent juxtaposition of wanting her mother's clothing and simply taking it without asking first consternated Vivian. She had to suppose the fact that the girl was still a teenager had at least something to do with it. Becky Heidi Hughes was eighteen years old now, and on the brink of graduating high school, soon after sure enough getting on with her own life. For Vivian, her daughter leaving the nest and striking out on her own was both happy and sad news. And while the bad (no longer having her around, missing her company in her otherwise widowed, empty house) outweighed the good (having her wardrobe all to herself again), Vivian was still feeling the need to have a talk with her little girl about this. At the same time, when Vivian considered the inevitability of her little girl flying the coop, getting her own place to live and cutting herself free from the apron strings, it naturally made her feel rather sad and wistful. When she imagined this scenario playing itself out in reality, she almost wept, missing Becky already, even though it hadn't yet happened. If only... ...If only there were a way to...to really strengthen and solidify their bond and the many layers of love in their relationship, so that Vivian could be secure in the love and knowledge that her daughter would genuinely miss her too. Becky had turned eighteen in October. She attended high school and worked part-time in a department store in the mall. Smart, responsible and performing very competently in both arenas, Vivian was exceedingly proud of her. And her mother too realized that now as an adult who needed also to show presentably at work each day and at least casual at school, Rebecca needed decent clothing. But whyever, then, Vivian had to wonder, with a job that took place in a department store, of all locales—where a young woman ostensibly could easily accessorize her entire closet—should Rebecca have to borrow-slash-steal the virtual entirety of her Mom's? Yes, thought Vivian, as she dug around to finally locate some passably matching clothes, and adjourned to the office. A little eye-opening chat about this when they both got back home was certainly in order. She tried not to let it overwhelm her. She'd never wanted to be a pushover, but most of her life, she felt she was not taken seriously when attempting to find the assertive words and attitude to stand up for herself. She was discouraged from speaking her mind, and more dominant individuals tended to steamroll over her when it came to verbal self-defense, and putting her proverbial cards on the table. It appeared to be a tough evening in store for herself, and a conversation Vivian wasn't looking forward to, but she knew her daughter. With a behavioral pattern that had been going on steadily this way for a good couple of weeks now, it wasn't going to just stop on its own. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the situation was that for most of her entire life, Rebecca had been such an angel. She was always a good girl growing up, avoiding the bigger mistakes, learning from the smaller ones. Vivian may have lost her spouse along the way, leaving Becky half-orphaned, but the little girl remained the assuredly most valuable treasure in her mother's life. Part of Vivian wished Becky never had to grow up and could just be her little princess forever. Sadly, her daughter was not Peter Pan. And while she kept her characteristics of diligence and self-responsibility throughout adolescence, her sweet, angelic nature as a child unfortunately transformed into a rough, rebellious obstinacy and defiance of her Mom once she hit her teens. Rebecca usually wasn't too hard on Vivian, being her daughter and living in her home. But Vivian would be the first to attest that Becky didn't get this adolescence of rebellion from her. Vivian was always daunted by confrontation, and on the rare occasions when her daughter did show attitude, Vivian had the tendency to let it go. But this most recent display of disrespect to her, in the form of taking her clothes without permission and not expecting her to notice—this wasn't so easy to forgive. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation... But it was going to happen. *** January 6th, 7:08 p.m. After four hours at work following school today, Becky returned home, shivering and stamping her boots as she pushed her way in the door. Sitting in the living room with the TV at controlled volume, Vivian was waiting for her. Curiously, she noted that on this day she'd apparently supplied her daughter's entire outfit du jour, except for Becky's own light blue top. "Hello there, honey." Becky rolled her eyes at the endearment-tinted pet name. Her mother had held on to these additional saccharine nicknames to call her since she was little, and at the age of eighteen, Rebecca had trouble comprehending why. It was really simple in Vivian's mind and proverbial book: she wanted to keep around some remnants of the relationship they had together at a younger, less complicated age—when Becky didn't mind being called "honey," "sweetie," "baby," or any of the like. Obviously, she still enormously loved the girl no matter what age she was, but Vivian nonetheless couldn't help but admit that she missed the idealistic young angel in her life at single-digit years. Even if she made it to a century old, she'd still be Vivian Hughes' little girl. "Ma," Rebecca uttered, in what she felt was a more or less obligatory response, whipping off her—Vivian's—coat. She then yanked the twisty out of her hair and manually tousled it into glorious spontaneity. She was an extraordinarily beautiful young woman, with golden hair that slithered marvelously down about her face and shoulders. Her feline-like green eyes glowed even in the absence of light, and Vivian's petite ensemble snugly embraced her statuesque frame. Naturally as her mother, Vivian felt it a true shame that a girl as exteriorly lovely as her little Becky grew into one missing several values of considered common decency towards others. She barely even said hello back to her mother. As Rebecca pulled off her boots, Vivian patted the seat of the chair beside her at the living room table, where she'd been waiting. A mystery item to be used under more drastic circumstances sat on Vivian's thigh, where Rebecca couldn't see it. "Becky, honey? C'mover here and sit down, please." Becky eyed her monotonously. "What's up?" She indicated the chair once more. "I want to talk to you." Her daughter visibly once more rolled her eyes. "Ho boy...no good conversation ever started with that sentence." Keeping her eyes on Rebecca, Vivian upped her sternness factor and pointed sharply to the seat with one long-nailed index finger, tilting her head downwards to throw some authority into her posture. Presented with such a display, Becky could see she hadn't much choice. Reluctantly, she blew out her breath and plopped down, propping her cheek on one uninterested elbow. Vivian took her daughter's unoccupied hand in both of her own. "All right, sweetie..." she began. Becky reflexively winced. It was so embarrassing to have to open every single chat with her mother this way. For God's sake, does she have to hold my hand and call me "sweetie"? What the hell am I, nine? Vivian had taken the forehanded liberty to adorn the tabletop with a bottle of wine and two glasses, in an effort to win herself some of her daughter's confidence. Actually, Vivian had already downed her first glass, to help ease herself into this. Vivian was never a heavy drinker, nor was she that skilled at handling her liquor. But she decided she'd have some right now anyway, as she could use something to knock the edge off. She took one hand off Becky's and poured them both a spot. Rebecca did appreciate this, figuring she could use some alcohol to slog her way through it. Vivian regarded her, starting on her own second glass, and lowered her voice to what for her passed for strictness. "Here's the deal, Becky. I know what's been going on. I know that you have been taking my clothes to wear yourself. Now, please understand: it does not bother me that you like to put my apparel to this use, or that you make a habit of doing so, it really doesn't. Because I realize you're very responsible about the clothes you put on your body, and that you carefully launder everything for us." Becky forced an incumbent nod, her countenance altering very little as she sipped. Her Mom was trying to select her words very cautiously and tactfully. "Now, you see, honey..." Another eye roll. "...What does put me off about this arrangement of ours is that you don't ask if you may borrow them. And furthermore, I also notice you're moving things around in my closet to make it appear as if nothing's missing." Rebecca blinked repeatedly, eventually dropping her eyes to the table surface, knowing she was busted. "Now, baby, what hurts me about this is that it makes me feel you're insulting my intelligence. Not to mention the lack of respect you're showing me by simply asking if you can borrow the clothes. But-but...that's really it. That's really all that's bothering me." Her little girl remained curtly silent. Vivian nurturingly patted and rubbed her thigh, another move that made Becky uncomfy. "Do...do you understand what I'm saying here, sweetie? I'm—" Rebecca felt her fuse shorten. She cut her off. "Hey—would you please mind calling me 'Becky'??" she pleaded exasperatedly. "Is that too much for ask, for Chrissakes? My name is Becky. You oughta know that; you gave it to me! I mean, what the hell is with these cutesy-ootsy-wootsy little nicknames?!" Vivian backed off. "Okay, I'm...I'm-I'm sorry, Becky. I'm simply trying to get across what I'd like you to see here. I want you to look at me, and sincerely promise me that you will ask—or at least let me know—to borrow my clothing from now on." The mother did not feel this an unreasonable request. The daughter saw things a bit differently. Becky scoffed and tossed off a sardonic chuckle, giving her hair a flip. "Oh, come on, Viv." "'Viv'?" Vivian frowned. "Lighten up!" her daughter advised. "For hell's sake! You're making way too big a thing outta this!" Vivian respected her opinions and views, but was a bit annoyed at this defiance to acknowledge her proper place in the girl's life. "Now look, young lady." Her voice shook a bit, as she'd never been a stellar disciplinarian. She may not have been great at this, but it was her job to keep Becky in line. "To begin with, I don't care for you calling me by my first name. Lethargic be as it may, I really don't mind this 'Ma' business you kids throw around these days, but please do not refer to me as 'Viv' in my own home." Only half-listening, Rebecca tossed down her wine, refilled the glass, picked it up, and rose from the table. Scoff. "Hey. Lay off the pet names, you're 'Ma' again. Sound good?" She ambled into the den, reckoning all was squared away, and turned up the TV. But her attitude truly was beginning to irreparably wear on her mother. Vivian stalked after, perched on the sofa beside where Becky sat, seized the remote and turned the set back off. "Becky, I am not quite done yet—..." Rebecca had had a long day. The weather was harsh outside, and she was really counting on just being able to kick back and chillax this evening. She was glad for the wine, but she didn't need the nagging. She dropped her head on the cushion backing the couch. "Oh, GOD!" she groused. "What the fuck is up your ass today, Viv??" "St—DON'T you talk to me that way, young lady. I don't know how you talk around your friends," Vivian admonished, gradually maintaining control of her voice, a firmer grasp on her powers of discipline. "But you watch your mouth under my roof. Get me??" Whipping out yet another scoff from her endless supply, Becky shut her eyes with a shake of the head. "Whatever." This tore it. The last straw snapped. Vivian'd downright had enough. "That does it!" her mother crossly stood. "I have had it with you, kid!" She pointed in the direction of the stairs. "Go to your room—now!" Eyes still closed, Rebecca burst into a laugh. It escalated as far up into a guffaw before she reopened her eyes and stared at Vivian, slowly realizing her mother was actually serious. Her smile faded as one brief reaction smacked her in the brain— ...What?? Vivian held her pose impressively still, pointing to the staircase. Had she been outside, pigeons would have begun landing on her. Becky kept her incredulous gaze steady on her Mom. Finally, she got up from the couch herself. "Wow...good friggin' Lord, you really do still think I'm a little kid, don't'cha?" Rebecca defiantly inquired. She got right up in her mother's face until they were almost tangibly nose to nose. "NEWS FLASH, Viv: I'm eighteen years old. I'm a grown goddamn woman now. I am working, and going to school at the same time, and you honestly...seriously think you can still ground me??" she chucklingly demanded. Growing fierier by the moment, Vivian glared back at her, nostrils flaring, virtually feeling the steam pluming from her ears. "Think it...and KNOW it, kiddo. NEWS FLASH, Rebecca Heidi Hughes: I, am, your, mother. You are in my house; I make the rules. For the record, I know how old you are; I remember when you were born—lest you forget, I was there—but as aforementioned: MY daughter, MY roof. And I've got some more news for you, while I'm at it: age is not a factor here. You think you're all grown up now and still under my roof, but don't have to abide by my rules anymore? Uh-uh. That don't fly, young lady." Now four hands on four hips, Becky widened her eyes and arched her brows, a bit surprised to hear her middle-aged mother pulling off utilization of a more modernized phrase such as this, complete with the bent grammar. At something of a loss for words, Becky said nothing more for a few minutes, but just continued staring Vivian down. Finally, her mother repeated herself. "Now go...to your room." Rebecca refused still to be overtaken by this attempt to force her reverting to childhood. She crossed her arms. "I don't buy it," she sneered, staring directly into Vivian's ired eyes. "I wanna see you make me." Under normal circumstances, such a challenge would have intimidated Vivian herself. But in this case, she'd thought ahead and sketched out a plan, based on what she knew about her daughter and where the girl's weakness lay. She knew full well Rebecca loved, loved, LOVED clothes—a hereditary trait—almost as much as Vivian did herself—and so took her strategy in this direction. "Very well..." It was time to break out and employ her elusive mystery item, her secret weapon, which Vivian had until now kept still concealed from Becky's view. Revealing and brandishing it before her daughter's eyes, first a mere hint, and subsequently an intense wave of fear was abruptly struck into Becky's heart. It was a pair of extra large, extra durable, extra scary mundial scissors. Mother and Child Communion Vivian saw her little girl's face noticeably transform into a portrait of downright petrified fear as she idly clipped them a few times in front of her, simply to drill it in that Becky was in fact seeing what she thought she was seeing. Her eyes widened and crinkled with trepidation, and her mouth descended ajar and quivered. Three terrible words invaded her brain— NOT MY CLOTHES!! Vivian registered the terror in her eyes. It was her turn to provocatively arch her eyebrows, accentuating with a nod of the head. Becky's trembling voice shook and stuttered. "You...y-y-y-you...wouldn't." "...Oh?..." Rebecca looked down with a gasp as her Mom took hold and gripped the hem of her light blue shirt—the only piece of clothing on her body that actually belonged in her own wardrobe—opened the scissors' blades, slipped the edge of the shirt in between them and ever so subtly closed them almost just enough to break the fabric. "...Wouldn't I??" Rebecca's gasp audibly grew into a shriek as a suddenly imperfect closet flashed before her eyes. This was a rare and expensive designer model top that Becky had been fortunate enough to get her hands on and purchase with her own cash. It seemed Vivian had exposed her Achilles' heel. She suddenly decided she'd do well to acquiesce quickly. "O-o-okay, okay, I'll..." Becky cleared her throat. "I'll go to my room...but only because I was about to anyway." She did her best to keep her voice to the hushed level of a murmur, even though any credibility in showing zero fear towards her mother was now utterly shot. Vivian smiled with satisfaction, releasing Becky's hostage shirt, and she scampered up the steps to her bedroom. What she did not, however, notice until it happened, was her Mom following her into the room and closing the door behind them. Rebecca turned with alarm to see her, and instinctively stood in front of her closet. "Wh—...what-what's going on?" asked Becky, intimidation now coursing her veins. Vivian clipped the scissor blades a few more times, now abreast of the hidden power this fearful gesture wielded over Becky. She inched on her scared daughter, with ominous, deliberate steps. "The attitude stops now, young lady." *** January 6th, 8:12 p.m. Rebecca could not believe she had allowed her mother to do this to her. Once Vivian had determined and ascertained that she had Becky where she wanted her, both physically and mentally, she told her to get on the bed and lay down, on her belly. When Becky'd asked why, Vivian calmly replied that she'd see. "Good girl!" Vivian praised, laying the scissors to rest as she entered Becky's closet. "Please don't do anything to my clothes!" Becky pleaded. Vivian's answer to this was nonverbal. She collected a number of scarves—an item of which her daughter had accumulated a dazzling plethora in different colors and varieties, the way some men collected ties—returned to the bed, tossed them on the mattress beside Becky and began taking her limbs one by one, and tying her up, hands and feet, with the scarves. "Wha—hey!" Becky objected, once she realized what was going on. Another scarf went over her eyes and tied at the back of her head, blindfolding her. Now with her wrists and ankles down, Vivian threaded another scarf around the ones already keeping her hands and feet company, and joined them as well. Becky was now on her tummy on the bed, blindfolded and hogtied. Finally finished and satisfied with the setup portion, Vivian took a step back. "There we are," she smiled, clapping off her hands. "Now then, Rebecca...would you like to try and talk to me again? Perhaps like a decent, civil human being?" "What are you doing, Mom??!" "Ah!" came the pleased exclamation. "I see, now we're back to 'Mom'! Well, that's a step up, don't you think, sweetie?" The cute pet name irked Becky not so much now. Understandably, she felt rather freaked out. What was more, she felt utterly humiliated. She felt like a rambunctious cow that needed to be trussed up into the embarrassing hogtied position in which she now lay. Then the humiliation passed as the horror again reared its ugly face. "You're not gonna cut up all my clothes now, are you, Mom?" "Oh, but certainly not," Vivian assured her. "You could never forgive me for that, and I could never forgive myself for hurting you in such a horrible way. And besides, slashing up nice garments never solved anything." Lightly relieved but still shuffling around on the mattress uncomfortably, Becky whimpered. "Then...what are you gonna do to me, Mom?" Her mother stood over her, arms crossed in a no-nonsense manner. "I am going to teach you a lesson in humility, Rebecca. You'll learn not to treat your mother the way you have—or anyone else who deserves respect. And you'll also learn what happens when you do not." Becky ejected a sigh. "Okay, Mom, look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm—" "I'm afraid 'sorry' is just not going to be quite good enough this time, my girl," Vivian chided, pulling up Becky's light blue shirt as far from her back and belly as it would go with her hands tied. "Forgiveness isn't an option. You'll have to pay, my dear." "Mom, what are you doing?" Becky repeated. "S-stop it! Please! I'll be good! I promise! Okay?? I promise!" "You know, Becky...there are certain facets of memories I have, going back to years and years ago in your precious childhood. I wonder if they still hold true today. For instance," Vivian cooed, "Right now I can't help but wonder if you're still... "...Unbearably...ticklish?" Vivian grinned down on her as her daughter absorbed this. Her Mom's smile was deceptively loving, nurturing and benevolent, when really having her sweet little girl back was all she wanted. Well, that, and also to have a bit of fun with her. Her daughter was and had always been deathly ticklish all over. Rebecca's bared tummy visibly and tremblingly drew in, as she flipped out. "NOOOO!" she cried. "OH GOD, NO, MOMMY! PLEASE!" Vivian laughed beatifically. "'Mommy'!" she reiterated with delight. "Why, you haven't called me that since you were six!" "Please don't tickle me!" Becky hysterically begged, squirming and wriggling. Her Mom had tied her up good and tight. She clearly wasn't getting out of this. "I'm sorry, Mommy! I'm so sorry! I really really am! You know how ticklish I am! PLEASE DON'T!!" But any leftover mercy Vivian had still been harboring had by now dissolved. "I do know how ticklish you are, honey. And that's why this is going to be so much fun!" With that, she danced her ten nails down Becky's sides and ribs and around her bellybutton. Becky exploded. "YEEAAAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAAAHAHAAHAHAAHAAHAAA!!" "Ooooh-hooo-hooooo!" warbled Vivian. "Even more ticklish!" She proceeded to dig her reprimanding nails into Becky's sides, audibly raking her daughter's bared flesh. Rebecca again blew up into veritable fireworks of laughter. After another ten seconds of guffawing her head off, Becky was about to start sobbing. "MOM-my!!" she begged. "Please! I'm so sorry! Really! Honest I am! Stop it, please! I'll do anything! Anything you say!!" "Oh, will you now?" asked Vivian. "I'll stop borrowing your clothes! I swear I will!" "Oh, you're darned right you will, sweetie..." Vivian let her hand graze over Rebecca's frantically quivering tummy, causing her to gasp rapidly and attempt to heave her breaths not quite as greatly, so as to let as few nerve endings as possible be penetrated. "...But only without my permission beforehand," she heard her mother add. The next thing Becky felt was her Mom's scary long nails turning inwards on her, pressing ominously into her soles. "M—...Mother..." she whispered intensely, "N—...NOT...the feet." "Mm-hm. OHHH, yes..." her mother's voice dripped with sugary, syrupy sweetness. "...Yes, the feet. Feeling lucky, baby doll?" "Mom, pleeeeeease, not my feet! You know the feet are the worst! They drive me fucking crazy!" "Well, let's just see if that's still true, my little sailor-mouthed cherub," Vivian mused, gently pulling the toes of her feet back to stretch out and sensitize Becky's soles, thereby imposing the most vulnerability possible. "So you repeat: you're going to stop borrowing my clothes without asking?" "Yes! YES!" "Say it. 'Mommy dear, I'll stop borrowing your clothes without asking.'" Oh, for crying out loud—! But Becky was in too compromising a position to bicker. "...Eh...Mommy...dear...I'll stop borrowing your clothes without asking." "That's my girl. Aaaaaaaaaand...?" prodded Vivian. Becky helplessly snaked about the bed, trying to recurl her frightened bare feet. She realized her mother wanted another promise. "...A-and-and-and-and I-I-I'll give you respect, and-and everybody else who deserves it...and-and...n-no more attitude!" "Will you do anything I say under my roof from now on, Rebecca?" "Yes! YES, Ma, anything!" "That's my girl!" Becky felt her feet granted mercy from her mother's horrific fingernails, and exhaled in relief. "So you're..." She breathed deep. "So you're gonna let me go now, Ma?" "Mmmmmmmm...not exactly, honey, no." "What?!" "Aw, darling, I'm having a bit too much fun to stop just yet!" Vivian declared. She took each of her index nails and alternately slid them up and down each of Becky's soles: left, right, left again, right again. With each stroke, Becky's head and body shifted with a jump and a yelp from one side to the other, emanating squeaks and squeals of several different octaves, trying to just catch a little relief. When she yelled for her mother to please stop, Vivian playfully poked her nails into Becky's sides, driving her yet crazier. When she decided Becky'd taken enough for the moment, she sighed and let up, lightly rubbing her daughter's back. Trying to catch her breath in between and around incessant laughing sobs, Becky had buried her face in the mattress, dampening it through her scarf blindfold. She muttered under her breath. "Oh my God, Mom... "I hate you... "You're crazy!... "You're a psycho!... "You're TERRIBLE!... "I honestly cannot believe you're doing this to me!" Vivian shrugged. "Maybe so," she acquiesced, feeling a bit guilty for taking pleasure in putting her ticklish daughter through such suffering to the point of making her insane. She got up for a sec to retrieve the box of tissues that sat on the bureau and returned to the bed with it. She plucked Rebecca's hair out from under the blindfold scarf and pulled it away from her tear-stained face. Whipping a few tissues from the box, she wiped Becky's eyes and cheeks dry. Another few she held beneath her nose. "Here, sweetie, blow." Becky obeyed. Tossing the tissues away, Vivian caressed and kissed her hair, which just made Becky cry some more. "Oh, honey," Vivian chuckled. "You know I love you. And you know that you love me too." Becky chuckled back through the weeping. "Yeah, yeah...except of course when I hate you," she joked. "Sometimes it is really hard for us to love each other, I'll give you that," Vivian agreed. "But we are after all mother and daughter. We're always going to have a loving relationship with a bit of hate here and there. It's normal. But you're my baby. My treasure. Rebecca, darling, I couldn't genuinely hate you even if I wanted to try, and no matter how hard I tried." Becky wordlessly nodded as her Mom continued stroking her hair and back. Vivian didn't say anything more either for the second, but she did note the development of a new, unusual sensation materializing within her. She smiled with sultry, perverse excitement in her eyes. Two glasses of judgment-swirling wine flying through her system, she was feeling a certain...impulse coming on. Absorbing the first had merely unlocked her moxie to threaten her daughter's shirt in order to punish her, but once the second glass took over her faculties, nothing was off-limits. Fair game all around. It was downright unthinkable under sober conditions, but... "You know something, Becky, my dear, sweet girl...that wine went straight to my head." Rebecca processed the information. It was quite a persuasive vintage, she had to go with her mother on that. But...what exactly was this leading towards?... The next sensation answered Becky's question for her, as she felt her Mom beginning to roguishly suckle on her toes. Gasp. "MOTHER!!" "Hm-hm-hm-hmmm," a chuckle escaped Vivian's lips on her daughter's feet as she mischievously nibbled on Becky's now wet toes, and again slid her nail down one of the bottoms. "AAAAAAHHH!" Becky shrieked hysterically, her profane side taking over. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU MOM!!" "Call me Viv." "WHA—B-BU—..." Becky shriek-gasped once more in freaked-out horror as her mother reached for her torso, beneath her over-the-shoulder boulder-holder, and to her dismayed disbelief, fondled, groped and felt up her boobs. "Wow, you have been blessed," Vivian's voice oozed. "Just look at these beauties I've given you!" "F—Mom, what the fuck!!" Vivian flipped Becky's top up behind her back and undid her bra amid more protests that fell on hearing-impaired ears. "Mom, stop it, you sick freak! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" "Oh, now, cool it, potty mouth..." Vivian hushed her, calmly and seductively. "I just wanna see them..." Rebecca knew something was seriously wrong here. This abruptly wasn't her mother, the Vivian Hughes she knew and grew up with. It simply couldn't be. Vivian had never exactly been able to keep a clear head when she drank, but this was a crazy dimension shift the likes of which Becky could never have imagined existed, much less come to life before her...well, blindfolded eyes. Her stomach turned as Vivian's motherly hands fondled her and smoothed her almost 50-year-old fingertips over her young but fully developed naked breasts and nipples. It had flown straight past unbelievable and into territory Becky couldn't verbally define at this point. Her Mom, the woman she'd trusted more than anyone throughout her entire life to date...molesting her. ...And...leaning down over top of her...and...kissing her, up the back, leaving faint red lipstick-prints along her spine. And these weren't nurturing familial Mommy kisses, either. These were passion kisses. Part of Becky wanted to turn her face away and retch, but the other part of her wanted to know what the hell was happening. They'd shared a little wine now and then before, but yet... ...Nothing like this had ever come close to taking place. "M—...Mom..." Becky whimpered, "Whatever you think you're doing...you're making me really uncomfortable here." Vivian overlapped her daughter's body. "Oh, sweet Becky...I am sorry, my little angel, but I'm afraid that I...I just can't help myself. "And lest we forget, you did say you'd now be willing to do anything I said, under my own roof, yes?" Whatever the case, Becky didn't really want to hear this, curious as she was. Ostensibly, her mother was...a lesbian, was the first thought that popped into her mind—which would've been enough news for her to take in already, having only seen her mother date men her whole life—but that still didn't explain the sudden incest. And she supposed it had been a long time since her mother had been with a...person—male, female, whichever she preferred at this stage of life. She sure didn't want her own Mom interested in her this way. However, she didn't appear to have a choice at the moment. For her part, Vivian may not have had sex with anyone other than herself for some time, but it was not solely this deprivation of intimacy that was taking such a toll on her and making her do this to her little girl. The wine also had a heavy hand in the situation. It made Becky a little tipsy, but had always had a far greater effect on Vivian than she ever realized. Were she extra concerned about making these sorts of decisions, she'd watch her alcohol intake. However, she couldn't go back and do this evening over. The wine had already made her as horny as a weasel, and she was in bed with a pretty tied-up girl. Did it matter that it was her daughter? No. Rebecca was starting to feel like crying. Wine tended to loosen up her emotions, but it didn't cloud her vision of the nightmare that was occurring right now. It mattered not in the least that the person forcing this form of affection on her in bed was a woman, in and of itself; she wouldn't have ruled out dating, kissing or even having sex with another woman before trying, but her mother??! The only response she could think of to what her Mom had just said was— "Mother...it doesn't matter whose roof it is; you can't do this to me! It's child abuse!" She heard Vivian chuckle in the midst of kissing her neck and rubbing her back. "It perhaps would be if you were still a child, Becky. But you're eighteen now. You're an adult." Becky squirmed on the mattress. "That doesn't change the fact that it's still abuse, Mom! I'm your daughter! You're not supposed to rape your daughter for fuck's sake!" Vivian raised her eyes from Becky's body for a moment. "'Rape'?" She cocked her head. "Why, now, who said anything about rape, my darling? As far as I'm concerned, we're just having a little loving mother-daughter quality time together." Rebecca was about to snap back that normal quality time for most Moms and daughters did not include tit-jiggling, but she didn't get the chance. Vivian continued. Becky's blood chilled as she felt her Mom take hold of her jeans and panties. "Although, now that you mention it..." Becky flipped. "NOOOO!!" she hollered. "MOMSTOPPITGODDAMMIT!!" She tried to kick at her. "LET THE HELL GO OF ME!!" Vivian momentarily paused in mid-strip. "Now, is that any way to talk to your dear mother?" Becky would've automatically replied, "If she's about to rape you, yes!" had she not been too freaked. Vivian kept undressing her. "M—...Mom, if this is about getting your clothes back, you're going way too far!" Becky cried, feeling her ass exposed to the open air. "I'm convinced! I'll never go in your closet again! Never! Now let me go, dammit!!" "Mmmm..." came Vivian's sweet voice. Rebecca felt her stroke a fingertip down one of her tush cheeks. "Mom, STOP it, you sicko!!" she screeched. "I'm not gonna tell you again!" An obvious bluff, as Becky remained tied up and unable to do a thing to stop her. Vivian, unthreatened, told her so. "Excellent then." Vivian slid the blade of her hand between Becky's thighs and began rubbing her exposed, unwelcoming pussy. Becky's stomach churned and tightened up. She wriggled with all her strength and buried her face in the mattress, taking a mouthful of bedspread to keep from screaming herself into a laryngitic fit. "Easy, darling!" Vivian calmed her, folding her body over Becky's. "Be a good girl, and settle down!" One hand kept on her pussy, Vivian balanced the incest with her nurturing mothering instinct, rubbing Becky's shoulder with her other hand and kissing her head. "Just settle down, sweetie...Mommy Viv won't hurt you." Mother and Child Communion Somehow, still feeling her Mom's body lying on top of hers, that didn't put Rebecca at a great deal of ease. Vivian repeated her pattern of kisses up Becky's jawline and over her cheek as she tenderly stroked her vagina. Becky shook and vibrated in frightened disgust until she did begin to cry. One of her tears plinked on her mother's nose as she was kissing her dampened face. "Don't cry, honey," Vivian sensually consoled. "It's going to feel good. Mommy'll make everything okay." Becky had yet to be convinced of this. She supposed if she had to lie here and endure this perverted ordeal, the most she could do was pretend her Mom was someone else. Or she herself was someone else. But this wasn't easy with her Mom's voice in her ear. Trying not to cringe too much under the sexually stroking, caressing fingers of the woman who'd given birth to her, Rebecca tried to plea bargain with her. "Mom...can...if...if you're not gonna let me go, can we at least go back to the tickling, please?! I...y—...I'll even let you suck on my toes and torture my feet if you want! But this is just too much! PLEASE!!" Becky felt her mother kiss the tip of her sniffly pink nose, which peeked out just under the scarf blindfolding her. Her Mom spoke. "But do you not desire your fair mother's love, my dear?" "N—...not-not this variety of it, no!" "Mm, too bad." Vivian dipped her index finger into the anterior region of Becky's pussy and circled her clit. Becky repeatedly whapped her head into the soft, cushioning mattress, which unfortunately did not distract her mind very much. She felt Vivian circumnavigate her extra sensitive clit, kissing her ear, her temple, her brow...eventually, Vivian rolled her over onto her side. "Wha—..." Rebecca whimpered. "What-what's happening now??" Vivian answered nonverbally, taking and sucking her daughter's breasts in her mouth one by one. Then, something very out of the ordinary happened, which blew all measures of logic from the water. Maybe it was that Vivian was now using her mouth, maybe it was eventual, final conviction, maybe it was the wine—who knew; anything was possible. But to her insurmountable astonishment, this actually felt...good to Rebecca. It felt...nice! Pleasure! She couldn't understand or explain for the life of her, but...her Mom's mouth, tongue and palate, were warm, supple and soothing, and though she still knew it was her Mom, she questioned herself whether she could in fact, unbelievable as it seemed, be becoming accustomed to this kind of treatment from her own mother?? Perhaps even...enjoy it?? It appeared inconceivable. And yet... "Ohhhh..." Becky softly moaned, a sound that made Vivian blissfully smile. It was music to her ears. "Mmmmm..." Vivian moaned back, tonguing Becky's slowly twitching nipples in her mouth. The evidence of her approval moistened Vivian between her legs. The room became silent as Vivian also realized through her inebriated state that her daughter would be better able to focus on the pleasure of their act were she able to temporarily forget she was essentially having sex with her Mom, and pretend she was somebody else. Becky began to let her head roll backwards on her shoulders and just let herself feel it. It started to get very nice. Her mother was right. Something deep inside her still knew how wrong this was, but... ...She could still fantasize... ...Couldn't she? While hugging Becky around the waist and finger-fucking her pussy, Vivian briefly ceased to appease her own increasingly burning excitement and desire. She began rapidly undressing herself, on top for a start, and set free her own mature naked tits. She next shifted her position on the mattress, curious to see how Rebecca might like to revisit her toddler years, in the form of breastfeeding (sans the milk). She maneuvered her body into the appropriate position and brushed Becky's cheeks with her own breasts. Though thrown a bit further off her proverbial rocker by this development, Becky nonetheless caught the hint and opened up to reciprocate and suck on her Mom's lovely titties, sending waves of pleasure sublimely rippling through Vivian's sexually starved body. It felt delicious. Her eyes fluttered closed as she settled back down to resume pleasuring Rebecca. She again slicked and orally loved her daughter's breasts, rubbing and massaging her, shoulders to ass, back and sides, with one hand, and returned her dominant hand to Becky's now much wetter cunt. Feeling the dampness in her pussy pushed Vivian's pleasure up another level. Oh, you bad, bad girl! she thought. How naughty of you—that wet, wet vaggie! Becky yanked and pulled on the scarves holding her hands and feet tied together behind her back, desperately longing to throw her arms back around her Mom, to feel her naked skin on her own. She yet still couldn't quite get over how amazingly depraved this was, but that didn't hinder her from relishing the nevertheless devastating pleasure. Just as was her mother's, her blood alcohol level was off the ground, enabling her mind to step outside the world of normal boundaries. She found herself very glad her Mom had tied this additional scarf over her eyes so she could easily pretend and imagine her way through this. She alternated between sucking Vivian's breasts, breathing through the nose and throwing heavy exhalations out her mouth. Her mother's smooth, soft hands passed delicately over her silky virgin skin, injecting flushes of mind-altering passion through her. Deep inside beneath the drunkenness, Vivian knew this wasn't precisely right either, but it felt right. Becky's back arched nice and tight as she groaned through her Mom's ample, voluptuous bosoms. Vivian was quite well-endowed, and the cup size apple didn't fall that far from the tree; Becky's weren't so inferior. The Hughes family breasts were genetically shapely, perky, bouncy and lots of fun to play with, as both Vivian and Rebecca could personally attest. Their pussies were similarly modest-sized, tight—Becky's a bit tighter than her mother's—semi-hirsute at full growth and a lovely shade of fuchsia when completely aroused—i.e., right about now. However, Becky's was the only pussy receiving any attention. And Vivian's was really yearning for some. So finally, Vivian gingerly plucked her breasts from her daughter's lips, tenderly left hers alone with a kiss on both nipples, shifted down from Becky's boobs to reach her soaking wet pussy with her tongue, whipped down her own bottoms, folded her upper leg over Rebecca's shoulder and kissed her with her cunt. This move too caught Becky way off-guard, but she was still game, and still willing to go with the odd flow. Vivian placed her head between her daughter's thighs and hugged her neck with them as they incepted one of the world's very first biological mother-daughter sixty-nines in the history of humankind. Now not directly involved but still very active, all four nipples stood erect and poked at one another's bellies. Sticky mutual moisture secreted and dripped from both wet cunts as they were pulled open by Vivian's nimble fingers. She was tempted to free Becky from the scarves, but she desperately wanted to keep her here until they finished having their quality time together tonight. Besides which, Rebecca just looked so delectably hot trussed up like this, in her damsel-in-distress state. After Vivian had pinned her on the bed and tied her up, she hadn't anticipated being this turned on. Pleasure-laced moans were exchanged as their tongues danced in and out of and around each other's warm, wet pussies. Oh, Vivian longed to have more hands to touch more parts of their bodies. Maybe she should let Becky out of these restraints. Well...she'd think about it. As their shared cunnilingus wore on, Vivian could swear she heard Becky mumble, "Oh, Mom, I love you." If this was in fact what her daughter was saying, it felt very good to hear. Vivian mumbled back—semi-intelligibly on purpose—"I love you too, baby doll." It wasn't too long after until their groans graduated to shouts. They began to send waves undulating through the mattress, squeezing one another's heads between their legs. Their minds were dually blown by how incredible this phenomenon had become. It was as if they had unlocked a groundbreaking secret not even considered being explored by most—for pretty understandable reasons. But whatever worked for anyone, they thought, to each her own. Becky and Vivian buried their faces in each other's pussies, devouring away, taking in one another's unique scents. Thanks again to heredity, discerning olfactory senses would detect more of a shared hint of aroma in the Hughes girls' vaginas than those of two random unrelated pussies. Bizarrely enough, this mutual trait in a way actually allowed them to be comfy together. If they shut their eyes and concentrated, it was almost just as if they were orally pleasing themselves. Once more, it was astonishingly easy for Becky to do this with her eyesight involuntarily taken away. She'd have to remember to thank her Mom for that. It wasn't much longer until they were screaming and swearing together for ecstatic release. The stars were going off within the both of them. Thankfully, they'd burrowed their faces far enough into each other that Vivian didn't need her hands to keep their labia apart anymore, so she put them to work around Becky's body, pulling and pressing their bodies impossibly close together, scratching up her back, gripping her ass, huggling them in as intimate contact as could be mustered. They extended their tongues as far into each other as could reach, wishing the tongues they were using could be Gene Simmons'. They drove each other wild, they drove each other crazy, they kept on shouting...they wanted to rock and roll all night, and party every day. In fact, they could just about feel their individual worlds rocking. They felt like the Earth underneath them was quaking wildly. They squeezed and pressed until they almost started breaking bones. Vivian wrenched them together hard as manageable, forcing sweat from innumerable pores until their skins were hot, slick and salty to the taste. Instinctively, a simultaneous countdown began in their minds, like a time bomb—extra appropriately, as they were both about to explode. The fuse was shortened considerably, and the flare was burning it down. Quickly. Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... At long last, all boundaries of formerly closed-off taboo activity were broken through, exceeded and long forgotten... ...As the biological mother and daughter at 727 Sullivan Avenue tongue-fucked one another to full climax. "MMMPH! MMMPH! MMMMPH! MMMMMPH!! MMMMMMMMMMPH!!" the Hughes girls rejoiced in unison, as they gloriously proceeded to come...together...beautifully... ...Together. Psychedelic dreams of surreality danced before them as the orgasmic arc curved higher, higher, higher...finally at last hitting its zenith...and dipping to let them down. And the miracle came full circle. In the midst of such a crazy rush, neither of them could begin to grasp the enormous magnitude of what had happened. The first several minutes following the orgasm were spent settling back down, letting the dust clear, and gradually sobering up, as it began to sink in, exactly what Rebecca Heidi and Vivian Emmy Hughes had just done with each other. It would be another fifteen minutes before it completely sank in. *** January 6th, 10:24 p.m. A now sober Vivian went to the bathroom to clean herself, and returned to the bedroom to free her daughter. It made her a little sad to do, having so relished the feeling of control and power over her in her restrained state, but sooner or later, she had to untie her. Becky was very disoriented and turmoiled by it all...and she wasn't sure it was in a good way. She was certain this was real—and i.e., not a dream—and that was what frightened her. "Um...Mom?" she asked as Vivian undid the scarves from around her limbs. "Yes, sweetie?" No longer minding the cutesy pet names, Rebecca just needed something to be cleared up. Actually, a couple of things. She smacked her lips, then made a face and stuck her tongue out. "Ugh...what am I tasting?" "Soap." "A—...are y—...Mom, are you fu—..." She made the same face again. "Are you serious?" "But of course, my foul-mouthed child. Now clean up your language, and that won't be necessary again." Becky's face turned downright incredulous under the blindfold. "...Y—...you know what, never mind that. Wh—...uh...what...did we just...uh...do?" she queried, a bit afraid of the answer. Vivian giggled good-naturedly. "You mean you don't remember, babe?" "Well, um, yeah, I do...but I was kinda hoping you were gonna tell me it was a wine-induced daydream or something." "Oh, no, no, Becky; it was very, very real, I promise you." "Uh-huh...I was afraid of that..." Vivian chuckled again. "Now, sweetheart, you can't tell me you didn't quite enjoy that. In fact, you're going to have to go shower to wash the proof off yourself, and I'm going to have to change your sheets!" "Uhhh...yeah, but...Mom? Uh...why...did you do that to me?" "Well, whatever do you mean?" It seemed her Mom was attempting to be innocently facetious. "IIIII...mean...you're my Mom...and I'm your daughter...for God's sake...and we just had incest sex." "Ah, yes, that. Well, Becky, if it puts your mind at rest at all, I've been meaning to tell you this: you're adopted." "What?!" "Kidding!" Vivian finished untying her, but Becky was still a little too drained for any serious movement right yet. "Well, now that I look back on it, I believe I do owe you an apology, Becky. I know strange things happen when I drink. I never saw it as a serious issue before, but...eh...heh," she chuckled. "Perhaps I shouldn't anymore. "But y'know, dollface, I might also go so far as to say that something good came out of this, if I may." "Oh...yeah, yeah," Becky uttered, remembering what brought this all on. "I'll leave your clothes alone." Vivian waved it away. "No, no, honey, I didn't mean that. What I meant was that over the past couple of years, it's seemed to me that as you've become a grown-up young lady, a little distance has come between us in our relationship. And while I may have taken things a few steps too far, I do feel I've succeeded in bringing us closer together as mother and daughter again, wouldn't you say?" "I...guess. That's...one way of looking at it." "Of course! Okay, honey, come on now. Cheer up." Vivian traced one more line down the bottom of Becky's left foot. "AAAAAHHHAAAHAAHAA!!" Rebecca laughed. "You mean bitch!..." she giggled raucously, just joking with her. Mostly. "That's better," smiled Vivian. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know things got a little extreme. But you know I love you." Becky didn't answer just right away. Vivian gently took her chin and lifted it to look her in the face. "However, I think we can agree that we'll just keep this...between us. Our little secret?" That was pretty obvious to Rebecca. "Uh, yeah, Mom," she answered. The implied "duh!" went unspoken. "Very good. Now shall I get to hear you say that you love your dear Mommy as well?" she cooed, giving her chin a little tickle. Becky sniffled and blinked away any remaining moisture from her lacrimal ducts. "I love you too, Mom." "You bet your life," affirmed Vivian. "You mark my words, Becky Heidi Hughes: I know you're a grown woman now, and I'm very proud of you. You're my daughter. I'll always love you more than anything in the world. But even though you're eighteen years old, and all grown-up now, you're still my little girl. And when you're seventy-five, pushing a walker through a nursing home... "...You'll still be my little girl." "And you'll always be my Ma." "'Sa right. So!" Vivian gave her a light pat on the calf. "Babe, why don't you go have yourself a nice shower, and when you're done, we can go back downstairs and watch some TV? And, maybe this weekend we can go shopping together, huh? I'll buy you some beautiful stuff, and if you want, I'll even put it in my closet for you," Vivian quipped with a laugh. Pushing herself up from the mattress as energy replenished, Becky laughed along. "Sounds great." Becky dropped her loose garments to the floor and headed for the door, clad in only her underthings. "Hey." She turned around. Vivian smiled warmly, opening her arms in her nurturing, motherly embrace. "C'mere." Rebecca smiled back, returning to her Mom and practically leaping into her arms with raw emotion, burying her face in Vivian's torso. The hug lasted a full twelve seconds before they broke from it. "I'm sorry about that, once again," offered Vivian. "But, I think you understand a little better now why I did those things. "And I think you might admit... "...Did you like it?...Just a little bit?" Becky giggled, her face a pink façade of embarrassment. But she shrugged off the blushing and nodded. "...Yeah." They held hands and giggled. Vivian's giggle was reminiscent of the good-natured chortling she'd emitted tickling Becky to tears. Vivian was so happy. Becky was still dazed by it all, and would need a little more time to fully recover, but her mind was indicating to her that she also felt pretty happy at the moment. Bizarre but beautiful, twisted but tender, their shared bonding experience had indeed brought them just as close if not closer than any mother and daughter had ever been or would ever be for eons to come. And ironically enough, clothing in her closet or anything else rightfully belonging to her taken by her daughter was just about the last thing on Vivian's mind. Her little girl might still abscond with her things, and Vivian would still always forgive her. She had no choice. Time would go on, they would continue to experience moments of adversity in their relationship, but their love would always prevail. After all these years, Becky was still Vivian's little angel. It wasn't in her choices, behavior or attitude; it was in her blood. And knowing this, Vivian finally felt good about letting her daughter free one day in the near future to live her independent life. In the meantime— "We'll have to spend some quality mother-daughter bonding time together more often...sweetie." "I think I'd like that too...Viv." *** "Back through the years/I go wonderin' once again/Back to the seasons of my youth/I recall a box of rags that someone gave us/And how my Mama put the rags to use/There were rags of many colors/But every piece was small/And I didn't have a coat/And it was way down in the fall/Mama sewed the rags together/Sewin' every piece with love/She made my coat of many colors/That I was so proud of/But they didn't understand it/And I tried to make them see/That one is only poor/Only if they choose to be/Now I know we had no money/But I was rich as I could be/In my coat of many colors/My Mama made for me/Made just for me" —Dolly Parton, 1971 "Oh, little darling of mine/I can't for the life of me/Remember a sadder day/I know they say let it be/But it just don't work out that way/And the course of a lifetime runs/Over and over again/No, I would not give you false hope, no!/On this strange and mournful day/But the mother and child reunion/Is only a motion away" —Paul Simon, 1971 Mother and Child Communion "You keep on saying you'll be mine for a while/You're looking fancy and I like your style/You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy/You show us everything you've got/Baby, baby, that's quite a lot/And you drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy/You keep on shouting, you keep on shouting/I wanna rock and roll all nite/And party every day/I wanna rock and roll all nite/And party every day" —Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons, 1974 "Apron strings/Cold and lonely, for time brings thoughts that only/Will be quiet when someone clings/To my apron strings/And I'll be perfect in my own way/When you cry, I will be there/I'll sing to you and comb your hair/All your troubles I will share, hey/For apron strings/Can be used for other things than what they're meant for/And you'd be happy wrapped in my apron strings/You'd be happy wrapped in my apron strings" —Tracey Thorn and Ben Watt, 1986 "Give me these moments back/Give them back to me/Give me that little kiss/Give me your hand/I know you have a little life in you yet/I know you have a lot of strength left/I know you have a little life in you yet/I know you have a lot of strength left/I should be crying but I just can't let it show/I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking/Of all the things we should've said that we never said/All the things we should've done that we never did/All the things that you needed from me/All the things that you wanted for me/All the things I should've given but I didn't/Oh, darling, make it go away/Just make it go away now" —Kate Bush, 1986 "It's no secret I've been waiting/But I didn't expect this/Nothing will remain/Nothing stays the same/After you came/It's no secret I've been starving/I never felt anything for years/I sat up all night/Just to watch your smile/When you're sleeping/Oh, I was so lucky you came by/And turned a different corner/Oh, it could have been someone else/You had in mind, oh my/I was so lucky you picked me/My trash turned to silver/Yeah, I could have been somewhere else/You could have passed by" —Per Gessle, 1997 "When somebody loved me/Everything was beautiful/Every hour we spent together/Lives within my heart/And when she was sad/I was there to dry her tears/And when she was happy/So was I/When she loved me/And when she was lonely/I was there to comfort her/And I knew that she loved me/So the years went by/I stayed the same/But she began to drift away/I was left alone/Still I waited for the day/When she'd say/I will always love you/Lonely and forgotten/Never thought she'd look my way/And she smiled at me/And held me/Just like she used to do/Like she loved me/When she loved me" —Randy Newman, 1998 "Once upon a time, there was a little girl/Once she was mine/In my heart, the only one/I wonder where you are/I know you're somewhere in me/I can see your smile when I close/Close my eyes/Oh/Little girl/Where did you go/Little girl/I miss you so/Oh, I remember when she was mine/I remember when she was mine/Once upon a time, there was a little voice/Singing loud and clear/In my heart, the only one/Once upon a time/There were so many dreams/Once they were mine/Oh, little girl, they're with/Oh, they're with you now/Oh/Little girl/Where did you go/Little girl/I miss you so/Oh, I remember when she was mine, my little girl/I remember when she was mine/Oh, I remember when she was mine" —Marie Fredriksson, 1999 "Where will I be/The day I need you for my own/Who will I be/When I can't reach you on the phone/Will I still be the same/Will I still feel this pain/Will you still be mother/When you're dead and gone/All alone, on my own/Oh, mother, can't you see/That this fight is all about me/Why can't you understand/That I'm a child and a grown-up woman/Mother, can't you see/That this fight is all about me/You think that I'm wild/But I'm a woman and still a child" —Mikael Bolyos and Marie Fredriksson, 2002 "I know a girl/She puts the color inside of my world/But she's just like a maze/Where all of the walls all continually change/And I've done all I can/To stand on the steps with my heart in my hand/Now I'm starting to see/Maybe it's got nothing to do with me/Fathers, be good to your daughters/Daughters will love like you do/Girls become lovers who turn into mothers/So mothers, be good to your daughters too" —John Mayer, 2003