Mom Age Regression Novels & Stories

“Please be chill with the flirting. You won’t want to have another baby, will you? Mummy just clicked 42. She is still years into menopause, so be careful.” Hailey smirked observing her mother’s disturbed look and left.

Hell. I jerked away from her. "Fine." Rubbed my upper arms, gooseflesh rising in a rippling wave as my egos crouched and fumed. "I know we failed you once," Mom said, grief-laden face now slick with tears. "But Syd, I swear to you, we won't fail you again. Or my grandson." Breathing became easier. Rage settled into a simmering pot of bubbling expectation. I nodded. And Mom spun and left.

Mom touched my hand as she said, “I can finally return to the village. If Jason is by your side, I’m at peace. I mean, with Mia by your side, I already feel calm, but I feel much more calm with Jason by your side. It’s time for me to return to the village to reopen my bakery. Some friends have already called and asked me to reopen the bakery.” “B-but, mom. I want you to stay with us here.” “I can’t, dear. Mia and I don’t want to intrude on your privacy. Besides, I have a lot of things to finish in the village. We can reconvene another time or you can visit me in the village. Our village is getting more and more beautiful and the air is very cool. Cool air is pleasant for breathing. I promise

Her expression shifted from irritation to shock, and then finally to something twisted. She suddenly grabbed my chin and stared at me. Once she realized my face was actually healing, I twisted the knife. "Mom, what's happening to your face? You look so much older than when I left. Maybe you should see a doctor." Mom went deathly pale. She let out a piercing scream, clapped her hands over her ears, and bolted for her room. The door slammed with a deafening bang. I knew then that my plan was working perfectly.

You didn’t need words to know their bond was deep and unshakable. My mother’s jaw dropped. “Wow.” “And Adrian is your biological son?” she asked. Margaret nodded, her smile serene. “Wow,” my mother repeated, more breath than word. “Then he must be… eight hundred years old too.” Margaret’s smile deepened. “Eight hundred and sixty-two,” she said calmly. My mother gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. I watched her carefully, wondering if the shock would fade into curiosity… or fear. Because this was only the beginning.

I’m not sure if she is joking or not. “April that is not what we are saying,” Sage says shaking her head. “So all of you are going to sit here and tell us that none of you ever did anything remotely sexual with anybody until you found your true mates?” April says with a bit of anger in her voice. All of the mother figures turned their gazes away from us. “Megan, have you ever done the calculation on when your birthday is and when mine is?” Mom asks. “No.” “I was two and half months pregnant with you when I turned eighteen,” Mom says as she watches for my reaction.

Maggie cries as her tits slam against her chest on each downward thrust. "Take your time, dear," Mom says, sitting on the edge of the bouncing mattress. "Nick, don't neglect her breasts. That hurts to have them thrown around like that." I respond at once, grabbing Maggie's tits while smiling at the absurdity of my mother as my sex coach. How unreal my life has become.

But Britt had been a needy drama queen and he didn't necessarily miss her, although the sex had been fun. "Sorry, Craig." Again, Mom seemed sincere. "That has to be frustrating; I mean guys your age have a lot of..." She paused, and the sly smile was back. "Energy." "Right." He nodded, hoping it was left at that. "God knows it's been a few months for me too, but at least I have batteries." "Mom!" That was the last thing he needed, thinking of his mother masturbating. "Hey, I'm not just your mom, I'm a woman too." She said.

Under the photo was a voice message. "Kyla, look at this!" Mom's voice exploded through the quiet room. "Is Bruce cheating on you? Don't be stupid!" Then she forwarded an article. [Don't Forgive a Cheater During Postpartum Recovery: Once a Cheater, Always a Cheater.] Every word screamed divorce. I tightened my grip on my phone as cold spread through my body. *** Ever since I was a kid, Mom kept saying we were broke. As the older sister, I had to sacrifice more.

She hauled bricks at a construction site, washed dishes at a restaurant, worked herself to bleeding hands just to keep food on the table. Dad was satisfied. The second time he pretended to be disfigured. Third time, a terminal illness. Fourth time, a lowlife gangster. Fifth time, and on and on. Ninety-nine times. Each time, Mom fell in love with him all over again. Dad thought that was love. But Mom had told me once: her love used to be so full. Now it had been worn down to almost nothing. By the time Dad had broken her completely, she finally understood the truth. A system had been controlling her all along. She was on a mission to "redeem the villain."