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The Bald Truth


It was your 21st birthday today and you were finally legally allowed to drink. For most people your age, that meant you could finally go to clubs and have fun, maybe even picking up a girl for the night. But you were different. For you, turning 21 meant finally being able to go to the club with your mom, getting her so drunk she no longer knew her own name, and then taking her back to your friends’ place to watch them finally get laid.


Your friends were excited. They have known you and your mother since you were all 15. Back then, you used to give them your mom’s panties to play with while you sucked the two of them off in your bedroom. Their sturdy cocks filling your mouth, hard with the thoughts of your mom’s ass on their laps. Every once in a while, running their hands through your brown locks in appreciation. In a way, you could say that they were the ones benefiting, as you were the only good looking one of the three, and you were strictly giving, not receiving. But that wasn’t true at all. After all, it was you who had fantasized your entire life about your mom being fucked by cocks that belonged to someone other than your father.


The problem was separating your mom from your father long enough to get the job done was basically impossible. And on top of that, your good looks were fading fast. You started going bald at 17, as did all the men on  your mom’s side of the family, and now at 21, you had a horseshoe of hair around the sides of your head with nothing but a few Homer Simpson tufts at the top. Whereas before you looked boyish and feminine, like the male version of your mom herself, now you looked like a quasimodo, with even worse posture. Not only did women stop looking at you, though you never had any success with women even when you were good looking, but your friends also stopped asking for you to suck their cocks, no matter how hard or horny they got playing with your mom’s sweatpants.


You were a one-toned shadow of your former self, and you were trapped within that fate, stranded like your face was by a sea of skin, without proportion or landmark to put it any larger context. You couldn’t even grow a beard. Your only hope for worthwhile sexual release was your mother being fucked in a blackout drunk stupor. Your Luciferian fall from grace made you feel like this was a necessity. You were robbed of the beauty your mom still had. And with that, robbed of the open doors that beauty held the key for in her cleavage.


To make it worse, your mom, being a mom, thought she was helping by saying things like “my good looking boy,” and “hello handsome.” It was this kind of inability to face the truth, and inability to express that truth once choosing to ignore it was no longer an option, that led to you being bald in the first place. If you had only been told earlier, you would have gotten on rogaine or propecia as soon as you had the chance.


So there were only two ways left for you to get back at her with. You could shave her bald in her sleep, but her hair would only grow back, and, truth is, it would likely only make a small dent in her sex appeal, if not make her even more appealing, something you would be fine with, but it wouldn’t be worth blowing your entire relationship with your parents to accomplish.  The alternative revenge plot suited your style much better. Getting her so drunk she doesn’t even know where she is and then letting your incel friends fuck her. Let them invade her pussy and feel what it’s like to have her entire lower section wrapped around their cocks. Have their angry balls slap against her shapely body the way it used to slap against your chin. Give them a once in a lifetime  experience with a woman out of their league.


And now you were 21 and you could finally do it. You decided you were in need of a new hairstyle as well, so you shaved your head. You looked like you were in chemo, but talking to your smiling mom, if you only ignored the half a second of shock that literally made her jump slightly, you’d think you were Marlon Brando in his prime.


Your friends came by and were unusually nice to your mom. Not because they wanted to get in her good graces, that obviously wouldn’t matter when she was finally blacked out, but because being in her presence, and knowing what was to come of it, was suddenly a delight. Your friends always hated your mom, her being a woman and all, and she was a permanent character in your Dungeons and Dragons sessions, which always ended with her as the white mage being raped by goblins, trolls, pirates, a dragon, and even The Dark Lord Xamanthu himself.


Your dad saw your party off, referring to you as Lex Luthor just as you got out the door. Your mom sighed and annoyed sigh at your dad letting you on the secrets women try to hide from the men they feel sorry for. You were shaking in the car of excitement. You were eager to see your mom’s naked ass for the first time, as much her genetic inheritance to her as your cueball head was to you, and you were excited to finally see it in the same space as the two cocks you used to know the shape of so well in what felt like a long gone dream. A dream of being handsome.


Your friends argued in the car about Final Fantasy, and whose tits were bigger, Lulu or Tifa. Your mom didn’t understand what they were saying, and like always, ignored the uglier parts that she did understand.


They were still arguing in line to the club. You hated it. Any capital you got by having a beautiful woman with you was drowned out by those two geeks’ bantering. When you got inside and saw the metal detectors, you felt a tinge of fear. You didn’t think of a place like this as a place where violence was an issue. You imagined an armed man entering and having fun with your mom at gun point, in front of the watchful crowd on all sides. A thing, like many you fantasized about, that always happened to somebody else’s mother, often times in front of them, but never yours. Luck of the draw you figured.


When you got to the bar, your taller friend insisted on getting to work immediately, and he paid for the first round of shots. He ordered five and ignored your mom when she tried to tell him it was one too many. When the shots were poured, they convinced your mom to drink the extra one. Then you all sat down at a table. The other friend went up to buy another round of drinks. Your mom made a comment about the club being “nice,” which was as inaccurate as the positive adjectives she used to describe you. As she did, you saw your friend over at the bar holding up a single digit to the bartender, and then he held up two fingers. His work showed on your mom’s face when she took a sip of her drink and scrunched up her eyes and nose. Everyone else’s drink went down like ice water.


When it was your turn to order, all the booze in the world couldn’t drown the butterflies in your stomach. You had never talked to a bartender before. You could barely talk to the cashier at 7-11. When you got to the bar you managed to order some rye and cokes, knowing that it was your dad’s favorite, and you even managed to remember to go with what you and your friends had planned with. “Make one of those drinks a double.”

You came back to the table with your drinks and managed to remember to get the chosen glass under your mom’s smiling face. You were proud of yourself.


Your mom was proper wasted now. Your friends spared no time in taking her to the dance floor. Getting her to shake her body around should circulate the alcohol, especially within the ambelic of her ass. They took her to the middle of the dance floor and started grinding against her aggressively. Your friend behind her didn’t even have rhythm. He just pumped into her, proud to finally feel her ass against his pelvis. Even in her drunken state, she tried to get out from in between them, but her struggling only made them hold her there tighter.

You were thrilled. So much so that you almost felt sober from all the adrenaline. But then something caught your eye which threatened to throw a wet towel on your big day. A wet towel on your mom’s nude ass. It was a man. A tall man, watching from the side, eyes burning with concern.


Sweat started to fall from your bald head. As your friends got your mom in the corner, pushed her against the wall, and began fingering her and feeling her butt crack with their hands down and her pants, the man approached.


He tapped your short friend on the shoulder and stared down at him. They looked shocked looking up at the golem before them. He began shouting something at them, and it was only when you got close, which you tried to do with worried vigor, that you could hear what his contention was.


“She’s mine. I’m taking her to my place. And you fucking homos can go fuck your hands in your bedrooms. Go shoot up your school if you don’t like it.”

Your eyes went wide, as did your friends, but for different reasons. They could feel the rug being pulled out from under them. “Why don’t you…” the tall one started, apprehensively, “just suck my dick, you b-b-b-bitch.”


Suddenly the man grabbed your friend by his throat and thrust him against the very same wall they had pressed your mom against only moments earlier. “I guess I will have to suck it, if someone has to. Because she isn’t. Got it?”


Your friend answered breathlessly and with desperation, “Yes, sir. Got it. Have a ball.”


Your friends ran off, and seeing you in the crowd, began pushing you away, out of earshot of your mom’s new prospect. You resisted, but even they were too strong for you.


“You got to call the cops, man. He’s trying to weasel in on your mom. She’s way too drunk to consent.”


“Let’s not get too hasty,” you said, trying to appear neutral. “He’s just trying to get laid. That isn’t illegal.”


The other one piped in, his voice still breathless and desperate. “Actually, it is. Her mind is in Middle Earth. If he fucks her, it’s rape.”


“Technically,” you said. “But I’m her son. I think I’m in charge of her body, legally speaking, when she’s not of sound mind.” You thought you read that somewhere.


“I don’t know where you heard that shit, man. Rape is rape.”


“Well…” you said, scrounging for a comeback, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea getting the pigs involved.” You felt cool calling them that. “After all, the whole dance floor saw you guys grinding up against her and fingering her holes, I wouldn’t want you guys to get in trouble too. Best to let him have his fun. For your freedom, of course.”


One of your friends, as if he just remembered now, lifted his finger to his nose and started sniffing it enthusiastically. The other one said: “well then call your dad. Tell him the guy put something in your mom’s drink. Your dad has like half an inch on him. He’ll lay him out.”


You saw the man behind them, pushing your mom through the dancefloor with his left hand and fishing through his pocket for car keys with his right. You smiled. “But then you can’t fuck my mom. My dad’ll take her home an-”


“Yeah, I guess…. SHIT! This was supposed to be it. I was supposed to lose my virginity tonight. Lose it in that fat ass!” That last sentence was muffled through gritted teeth.

Your mother was getting more distant. You other friend was licking his two fingers and nodding to himself in approval of the taste. “Lose it to Lucy Hoffsteader,” you suggested helpfully.


“Lucy Hoffsteader? That square? She has no tits and no ass. She’s like a 7. I’m worth more than a 7. My IQ is 160. I took the test on the internet. I would be getting women like your mom on the daily if people weren’t hostile towards geniuses.”


“Yeah,” you said, trying to pull a rabbit out a hat to keep him from turning around. “My dad’s IQ is like half that. Maybe tell her that when you’re sober and she migh-”


“And I have a full head of hair. No offense. And I’m trained in the way of the sword. Most women don’t know how bad things are now. The dollars going to collapse any second now when the powers that be realize that money is just an illusion. We’ll be living like Mad Max in a decade flat. All these guys wasting their time talking to women when I’ve been spending the last 5 years getting proficient at bow and arrow. These bitches don’t even appreciate it. The hot ones don’t. And almost always if they have a banging ass like your…” he turned around to point at her and audibly gasped when he saw she was gone.


He hit his friend on the shoulder, startling him into pulling his fist out of his mouth. “Where’d they go!?” he screamed.


“They went that way!” you said and pointed in the other direction, away from the front door.


“Why didn’t you say something you dick?” he said and punched you in the shoulder. He turned around and they both ran off. You could just hear him say “It’s like you want your mom to get raped, while we’re here, busy trying to save her. Getting no credi…” and his voice faded behind the wall of music.


You looked in both directions with a smile on your face, then you ran to the front doors, making it just in time to intercept the new leading man of your mom’s romantic comedy of a life.


He couldn’t see you coming in his peripheral over the obstruction on his shoulder that was your mom’s giant ass. So when you put your palm to his rock hard chest, it came as a surprise. He was seconds away from dropping your mom to the ground and slugging you, but you caught his attention with “my dad’s outside! Just stand…. ummm… over there, between the inside and the outside doors. Yeah, right here. And out of site there. I’ll check if the coast is clear.


He stood in the shadows, unsure of what to do. Your friends ran past within the bar. You looked outside with your hand forming a visor over your eyes, as if to block the harsh rays of the moon. “Okay, coast is clear I think. Where’s your car.”


The man pointed, and you both rushed there, your mom’s ass jiggling as you did. “If he sees you trying to take my mom home with you, he’ll shit a brick. He’s a little bit close-minded when it comes to stuff like this.”


“Your mom?” the guy asked.


You felt dejected at that, as you helped him put her into his backseat. Five years ago he would have been able to tell you were her son just by looking. Now you looked like just some unrelated creepy weirdo who lived vicariously through other men’s morally dubious sexual escapades.


You got into his passenger seat. As he started his car and started driving, you felt compelled to clear something up. “I really am her son. Just let letting you know. I’m no just some creepy weirdo who wants to watch you fuck a stranger. I just want you to know that, so you don’t think I’m like weird or anything.”


He just looked over at you with his eyes wide, then he looked back at the road.


I don’t think he believes me, you thought. After an awkward minute of silence, you turned around and slapped your mom on her ass. “Nice ass, right? You’re going to have some fun tonight.”


Sensing an opening to make you feel less awkward, he said “Yeah. You ready to watch mommy get fucked?”


“Am I ever!” you replied. “It would be nice if I still had my hair though. Then me and mommy could both suck your cock.”


He just stared straight ahead, not daring to say a word.


“I bet you got a nice one. But it’s all for my mom’s mouth. I understand….” You sat there scratching your leg. You felt compelled to continue. “But 6 years ago, you should have seen what a babe I was when I had illustrious locks like hers. Yeah, you’d totally want to facefuck my fifteen year old self. …Uh, I mean… you wouldn’t want to fuck me when I was fifteen. I meant when I had hair like I did when I was fifteen but like… how I am now. Yeah.”  Droplets of sweat fell from your bare scalp. You wiped it up with your sleeve. “My head is actually the same skin tone as my mom. So you can sort of get a good guess at what one of her ass cheek looks like, you know?”


He didn’t answer.


“Except I guarantee her ass is softer.”


More silence.


Another minute past. “Just so you know, I’ve been told I suck a mean cock.”


“We’re here!” he exclaimed rapidly.


“Oh, good, good. Let’s get her out and into your place.”


“We made it, thank Christ,” is what you could hear him say after you stepped out of the car.

You picked her up and carried her across his lawn. Your mom started to paw at his back. “No, no,” she clumsily murmured. “Where am I? This issin home. Baby, whurs dad? Um scared. Tuk me home. I wunt yur father. Sumthin berd is gon happen to me, issin it.”


You both kept on. You only said one thing to your ally: “In all seriousness, I’m really excited.”


You remembered these sentiments, you felt them all when you saw yourself in the mirror years ago and realized something wasn’t right. Your mom’s ass was going through the same irreversible march to the future. She would get no quarter or rest, just like your hairline, each moment, each tick of the clock taking her ass to an inevitable end.


“I’m really excited,”  you said. You set your mom down on her wobbly feet. “You’re not going to see dad tonight, mom. Dad’s not coming. Just stop worrying and let it all go blank. There’s nothing you can do about it now. You can worry about it in the morning. But for now, this needs to happen.


The world doesn’t revolve around my head, you thought. It doesn’t revolve around mom’s ass either. It was the biological makeup of her side of the family that led here for both of you.

“No use fighting the inevitable,” you said out loud.


He just looked at you, somber at your words, but, like you, ultimately excited for what was to come next.


Your mom’s ass looked better than you even dreamed it could be. It was soft and big and perfect. And it looked at its best when it was riding his cock.



Nothing but bare, unobstructed flesh. Naked skin with nothing to hide it. You were completely naked as well. From the bottom of your feet all the way to the top of your head. All the same skin tone, except the cheeks on your face, the cheeks on your ass, your cock and balls and thighs, which were blushing red with pleasure. You looked like a pathetic shaved creature, watching your mommy being fucked, a freak of nature both inside and out.

After he was done, he nutted on her butt cheek.


It was five in the morning when he drove you to the school your mom taught at. You took rope from his trunk and tied her face down to the roundabout, with her feet hanging off of it, her toes digging into the gravel below. You spun it lightly, having her move 90 degrees or so  before slowing down and stopping dead.


Her students were the first to find her a few hours later. They took pictures and slapped and kissed her butt. One of them ran and grabbed pinecones and shoved them in her asshole.

She woke up with young boys all over her, poking her butt and the soles of her feet with sticks. Young boys she knew well. Her body destroying their innocence. Their rambunctiousness destroying her naivete.


When you got home, you were lucky enough that you father was fast asleep. So you didn’t have to explain why you came back alone. You got into your bed and stared at the roof. You had spent the last twenty minutes alone in the car with that man. You were lucky that you didn’t have to know the pangs of rejection with him. After all, you didn’t even try to make a move towards his waste. Just silence, and then you were home. And you got out of the car and you were now here. Home, safe and sound. If only your mom was so lucky to wake up the same way.


You felt an itch at the top of your head. And went you went to scratch it, you caught nothing but skin. You always expected to catch tufts of brunette hair there, but you never did. You were never happy that that’s the way it was now, and you never would be, but you had learned to live with who you were now. And you knew in time, your mom would have to learn to live with what her genetic stamp had got for her.


And it was her who gave you your strength. Because you knew that with her, you didn’t suffer alone.

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