Son Impregnates Mother Stories Novels & Stories

My surveillance app vibrated in my pocket, and I unlocked my phone. Rosemary and Jasper were on the living room couch, and they were speaking in low voices. “Mom, did you get the stuff?” “Got it. It’s from the vet clinic, and it’s strong.” “Is that cripple, Wallace, really paying forty-two thousand dollars?” “He’s an engineer. He’s loaded! Once we drug her and get her to sleep with him, she’ll have no choice but to marry him. “We’ll take some photos to keep as leverage. That’ll make sure she behaves.”

About the constant fear she carried for years that her trauma would make her repeat patterns with her children. Matthew listened to everything. He asked hard but necessary questions. He cried. He laughed at some lighter moments when Maeve told funny stories about when he was little and came back from Evie’s house. When dawn arrived, the five of them were exhausted but lighter. "Thank you for telling me everything," Matthew said, standing up. "Now I understand my place in this family. I’m not just Zion and Maeve’s son. I’m the proof that it’s possible to win. That even after being raped by your own father and betrayed by your mother, you managed to build something beautiful."

“Please… cum inside your pregnant stepdaughter… fill me even more… I want this baby to swim in the family cum… knock me up again right after I give birth… I’m more than blood… I’m your permanent breeding sow!” They roared and unloaded. Hot pulsing ropes flooded my womb again and again. Thick cum overflowed, running down my ass and pooling on the table. The creamy salty smell was everywhere. Later they made us crawl and clean the floor with our tongues while they drank whiskey and watched. That night in the big bed Victor rubbed oil all over my belly, his rough hands sliding over my skin. Mom kissed my belly softly, then my lips, her tongue tasting like cum. “You’re glowing already, baby,” sh

“Arthur thinks wealth is a fortress. He doesn't get that a fortress is a prison with a nicer view. I want Hannah to know the smell of rain on soil, not the smell of air conditioning, in a penthouse.” The words on the page started to blur as a sensation rose behind my eyes. I held the edges of the journal the leather feeling cool and old against my palms. It was like I was holding something that belonged to a ghost. For twenty-five years my mother had been a story that my fathers team had controlled. They made her sound like a person who died too soon.. The woman who wrote in these pages did not sound like that. She sounded like someone who was trapped and finally found a way

“Keep them coming.” The first one scorched. The second numbed. By the third, the fire in my chest loosened into something resembling release. I stared at the empty glass and thought of my mother, sitting at our kitchen table with her wedding ring still on after my father left her for another woman. She used to whisper to me, Never trust too much. People always show their teeth eventually. I should have listened. But love, love makes fools out of even doctors who spend their lives diagnosing problems. I couldn’t diagnose my own heartbreak until it was terminal.

Mom slowly sank to the floor, tears flowing silently. Disturbed by the noise, Andrew opened his bedroom door, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Mom, can you keep it down? I'm in the middle of a game." As if finding an anchor, Mom scrambled up and grabbed Andrew's hand, weeping. "Andy, your father has had another woman on the side all these years. You have to stand up for me!" Andrew shrank back, pulling his hand away. "I think Dad has a point. As long as you pretend not to know anything, we can still live peacefully as a family."

Frank finally looked up from his newspaper, raising an eyebrow at the tension between my mother and me. Pamela, undeterred, leaned forward. "Fine, not Chloe. But what about that older woman? The one you mentioned seeing a few months ago?" I froze, my fork hovering mid-air. I set it down deliberately, meeting my mother's gaze. "I don't have any woman in my life, Mom. And honestly, I'd prefer if you respected my decisions." Pamela sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I just want what's best for you."

She smiled sadly, “I believed it for so long that when I was 9 I actually told it to my classmates. It was only when they laughed that I realised the story was a fable, and worse, my mother was possibly mad. I asked her that day, angrier than I ever had been at her, and in tears she told me the truth; that she had drugged and raped a man who was out drinking with his colleagues, that she wanted some story so bad she gave herself one in the form of a child a stranger will never know.” I feel sick to my stomach, more sick than I did when I was pressed against Jaxon. My father was assaulted, and Riley was the result. “Its not possible,” I say, shaking my head, not wanting to know anymore. “When

I affect the perfect posture Mother drilled into me and maneuver a delicate spoonful of a thick, seafood-studded broth into my mouth before slouching back down. “Oh, I have it. I just have more important things to do.” “Breeding makes the world spin,” she snaps. “Without it, we would all be rogues.” “Now you really sound like my mother.” “Your mother was a smart woman,” Kaloni replies. “Smart enough to see the writing on the wall before anyone else here.”

Shocked, I gasp, my horror mirroring the profound pain etched across her face. It does explain a lot. I vividly recall my mother’s words, the sound of her voice as she spoke about the mate bond. I can still feel the warmth of her hand on my shoulder, comforting me with the knowledge that if my mate were to betray me, I would sense it through the bond. The scent of her perfume filled the air, adding a touch of familiarity to the tale she wove. Until now, I had dismissed it as a mere story, a gentle reminder to honour and cherish the bond we shared. The idea of inflicting such pain upon my mate never crossed my mind. I held onto the belief that, if faced with such a situation, I would have the