My Stepmom Novels & Stories

I nodded looking down. "I came here to say" I uttered some words when I remembered something about her. "How is your mother?" I gulped nervously. "Oh, she is no more" "What? I am so sorry" It's my cue to leave but she patted on my hand, rested on my knee. "She was my step mother, actually, third step mother. I wasn't much close to her." She said. Out of embarrassment I said nothing. "Sorry I forgot your name" She said.

I feel my legs shake as I drag my feet forward, moving around the couch, which is probably not a brilliant choice considering how fearful she looks right now– I should stay away, not draw closer. "Mom…" I start, trying to put words together, but how do I explain to her? What do I even say? Oh, I’m sorry you had to see that. I just happened to have been fucking around with my best friend, who also happens to be your stepson. No qualms, though.

' ‘Please tell Edmund, his personal assistant, that I want to see him,’ I said to Dad. ‘I will do that,’ Dad said and excused himself. ‘I noticed that you don't know what to call me. You can call me mum,’ my stepmom said smiling at me. I could see unshed tears in her eyes. ‘Are you crying mum?’ I asked and that broke the dam. She broke down in tears. ‘Someone almost took you from me again today. I wish I could get my hands on them and make a scapegoat out of them,’ she said, looking angry.

Aiden said and I shook my head in derision. My mom's car drove and packed beside Aiden's car. She screwed down the window of the car and I could see that she had packed her head in a pony, not only had she packed her hair in a pony but she was sitting with Aiden's son, my stepbrother. "What's your son doing there? He is coming for a visit? Thought he had gone back to college.." I muttered silently. "I really don't know," Aiden replied shaking his head then he added, "That makes the work easier then"

“I—I’m sorry, Grace. I swear, I didn’t mean to—” “Don’t touch me.” Mom snapped, voice cracking. “Let go of me.” I squeezed my eyes shut, praying it wasn’t real. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Dad murmured. “I know how much you’ve treated her like your own. Not just her stepmom…” Stepmom? That word stabbed deeper than anything else. I wanted to scream. To collapse. To throw something. But all I could do was stand there, shaking like a leaf, while the world I knew shattered around me.

She bristles at the dismissal before swallowing thickly, her eyes glued to the blades just a hairbreadth away from my fingers. “Well, we need to start planning an engagement party, and I won’t take no for an answer,” my stepmom huffs, crossing her arms like a petulant child. I almost choke on the laughter that bubbles up in my throat. The entire scene is absolutely ridiculous. This woman, who apparently now wants me to view her in a step-mother role after so many years, is acting more like a child than even her eight-year-old daughter. “Listen,your position here is holding on by a thread. The only thing holding me back from kicking you to the curb is my father

My guy friends and I want to show coach how determined we are to make the win this weekend. “Hey,” I hear my stepmom’s voice from down the wide hallway. She has just come out of her room. “Did Roxy get home alright? I haven’t seen her yet,” she says. My stepmom is a good-looking woman, with golden hair that she wears in a bob cut to her shoulders and a slender body from all the Pilates she does. I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, the brat is in her room.” “Don’t talk about Roxy like that. Honestly, when are you two going to start getting along?”

Because my father saw me, I approached him. "You visited for, how long?" He asked. "Maybe forever," I said, and he grinned faintly. "I want to know my stepmother, can it be as good as my mother." "You don't need mom, but you need it—" His talk suddenly stopped when he looked at the stairs; a beautiful woman, brown-haired, bumpy, and very elegant, walking towards us with a wide smile. Was she my stepmother? "You want to know my wife, this is Beatrice, you can call her Mom"

"Mom... I mean, stepmother... you... you want me to do the dishes? Clean the house?" My stepmother's eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability seeping through her facade. "Yes, Bethany. I think it's time for a change. We all need to do our part to keep our home running smoothly. You can start by helping out with the chores." Bethany's disbelief was mirrored in my own expression. Our stepmother had never shown an ounce of interest in household responsibilities, leaving the burden on our shoulders. It felt like an alternate reality, a dream that bordered on surreal.

“My daddy got me a stepmother for my birthday. Can you believe it?” Coco shook her head. “What is a stepmother?”