Knock 'Em Down

"Well, we should probably grab something to eat before we head out," I tell Luck as I head for the door.

"Sounds good! I've been up working all night, so I could really use a bite to eat," she quickly agrees.

I choose to ignore Luck's somewhat ominous comment to avoid the risk of falling back down the rabbit hole of wondering what exactly she did to everyone. I'm going to try my best to untangling those situations as they come up, rather than constantly worrying about what they could be. I did say I would try to relax and enjoy the ride, even if that's not really in my nature. I'm sure I'll still end up doing a far bit of speculating, but for now, I think I can put it out of my mind, so I will.

With one last quick breath to stabilize myself, I make my way out of my room and prepare myself for the day. As much as one can prepare for Luck's shenanigans, that is. As I make it downstairs, I notice my mother Alana standing in the kitchen making herself a light breakfast. A small plate with a couple pieces of buttered toast sit on the counter next to her as she waits impatiently for the coffee maker to brew that disgustingly bitter tar she claims to always need to start her day. Never understood why so many people drink that stuff. No amount of energy can be worth downing glorified hot sludge.

Anyway, I notice Alana is wearing a white button-up and long black skirt combo that is nearly identical to what she had on yesterday. I suppose that makes sense though. Back when she was Alan, he wore basically the exact same outfit to work every day, just swap out the skirt for dress pants. This must just be the female equivalent for her.

As I'm judging her outfit, Alana looks over her shoulder and notice me staring at her. Immediately, her annoyance seems to shift from her coffee to me. Interestingly, she doesn't seem the least bit bothered by the fact that Luck came down the stairs with me despite appearing to leave the house last night, but I guess that's probably the mental block Luck put in her at work, however that thing functions.

"Can I help you?" She says in a nasty tone.

"Uh... no..." I answer, not sure what else to say.

"Then stop standing there staring at me like some fuckin' moron!" She yells.

As much as I'd love to try and throw out some kind of snappy comment right now, it's way too early in the morning for that. It's also way too early to deal with the fallout of a decision like that, so I just decide to bite the bullet on this one.

"Sorry, Da... Mom," I correct myself as I walk into the kitchen and grab some food for Luck and I to eat. Still weird saying that out loud. Hopefully, I'll get used to it eventually.

Alana raises an eyebrow at me, then lets out a huff before turning her attention back to the coffee pot. I take my scrounged up meal and bring it over to the table, where Luck is already waiting for me. Not long after we both start eating, I look around and realize the house seems emptier than usual.

"Where's Mom? Other Mom, I mean," I ask Alana, who turns to me and makes a face.

"You don't have to say 'Other Mom,' dumbass. I know who you're talking about," she spits out condescendingly before leaning against the counter. "Melinda left the house early today. Said something about wanting to do some shopping before work."

Huh. That's odd. My mother Melinda's not really a big shopper. Neither of my parents are. Usually when they find something they like, they tend to stick with it, whether that be clothing, household items, tools, or whatever else people like to shop for. So suddenly leaving home early for a impromptu shopping spree is really out of character. Gee, I wonder what could have sparked something like that...

My suspicion is pretty well confirmed when I look over to see the grin on Luck's face. Yeah. It wasn't hard to guess that she was behind this. Still, I wonder what exactly she's out buying. There's no way Luck is going to tell me if I ask though, so I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

"Fuckin' finally..." I hear to my side.

I look back towards the kitchen to see Alana's coffee is done. She pulls the pot off the machine and pour a large amount into a tall mug. Then, she brings the cup up to her nose and takes a big whiff, sighing contently at the smell. This woman needs to calm down. It's just bean juice. How can she be so obsessed with it? However, the next thing that happens surprises me. As she brings the mug up to her lips to take a sip, she makes a confused face, followed by one of frustration.

"Ugh. This too? Goddammit."

"What's wrong?" I ask.

It takes Alana a second to respond, likely weighing if answering my question is actually worth it. Eventually though, seeing no real harm in sharing, she decides to tell me what's going on.

"The past day or so, a lot of food hasn't been really appealing to me. Like, it all tastes fine, it just does seem all that interesting. I figured if anything would hit the spot, it'd be a nice cup of coffee, but something about it tastes... off all of a sudden..." she explains.

Really? Alana Evans isn't enjoying her morning coffee? That's not right. She's constantly going on and on about how that's the reason she gets out of bed in the morning. We're talking about someone who buys the highest quality beans she can get her hands on (even if it doesn't seem like it makes that big of a difference to me). How is she not satisfied with a cup of her own homemade coffee? Something's up.

And that's when a thought occurs to me. A memory of a few minutes ago, when Luck was eagerly deepthroating my cock, only to finish by...

I lean over to her and whisper, "Luck? When you said you needed a handful of my cum for something earlier, you didn't put it in my mother's coffee, did you?"

Luck snickers when she hears that.

"What? Don't be ridiculous. Of course I didn't. As delicious as I'm sure that would be, it's also way too cliché for me. Surely you know I'm more creative than that, right?"

Why do I have a hard time believe her when she says that?

An exasperated Alana grabs the rest of her breakfast and brings it over to the table. She sits down across from me, but doesn't actually look in my direction as she does. She's clearly upset, which I guess is reasonable when you have a drink that tastes like semen. I'd probably be mad too if everything I put in my mouth was-

Wait a second... Luck only took my cum this morning, but Alana said she's been having this issue since yesterday. So there's no way Luck's spiked her drink. Unless she somehow found someone else to... donate some spunk for her, but that doesn't make any sense. Does that mean Luck was telling the truth? Then what did she-

"Mmmm! Thank god! Finally, something that scratches that itch I was having. Not what I would have expected, but at this point, I'll take whatever I can get."

I look up and see the rare sight of a grin on Alana's face as she chews, clearly savoring the taste of whatever she's eating. I glance over and notice that in her hand is one of the pieces of toast she brought from the kitchen. A piece of toast with what appears to be a pretty thick layer of butter on it... Well, shit. That's not butter, is it?

"Luck..." I growl in her direction.

The only response I get is a big smile from the supernatural woman.

"I don't know what you're so upset about, but would you knock it off? I hate when people disturb me while I'm trying to eat." Alana's voice draws my attention. As I look at her, she takes another big bite, a thick glob of my seed dripping off the bread and onto her plate as she does. "Wow, this is good. Melinda must have bought some new butter or something, because this is fantastic. It's got this great salty taste that really lingers on your taste buds."

Luck tries her best to keep quiet as she watches the scene unfold before her. I can't believe this. She somehow managed to hide an insane amount of jizz right in plain sight. And as if that wasn't enough, she was then able to trick Alana into eating it. How did she even do that? Not to mention that it sounds like my mother is enjoying it. Actually, "enjoying" might be an understatement. I mean, she's practically scarfing the stuff down right now.

"Will you stop eating that for a second, Dad?" As soon as the words leave my mouth, I immediately realize my mistake.

"Did you just call me 'Dad' AGAIN?! You know, I thought that was a joke at first, but now I'm starting to think you might actually just be so stupid that you can't remember that you have two moms. And don't you dare tell me what to do! This is my house, and I'll do whatever I damn well please!" She raises her voice, eating even more as if to prove her point.

"Whatever. Would you just listen to me for a second?"

"Oh, you want me to listen to you? Well, maybe if you really want that, you should... mmm... listen to me once in awhile," Alana retorts, speaking slower the more toast she consumes, as if she's getting lost in the flavor. "I swear... Mmmmmm! …why do you have to make my life so difficult?"

In an instant, I feel my blood start to boil, any concern I may have just had quickly vanishing.

"I'm sorry, I'M making YOUR life difficult?! Do you have any idea how hard it is to put up with you?!"

Alana doesn't appear to be listening to a word I'm saying. Instead, she finishes off the second piece of toast she had on her plate, licking her fingers contently afterwards. As she swallows, she gets a far off look in her eyes, as if she's no longer fully present. She then lets out a soft sigh.

"Are you even listening to me?!" I yell in anger. I can't believe this. To think I was going to try and stop her from shoving a load's worth of my cum into her mouth. "This is absurd! All you do is talk down to me and act like I'm some kind of burden! I'm you're fucking son! It's not even like you have to do that much! Just compliment me every now and then! I feel like that's not too much to ask."

"C... compliment...?" She whispers, her eyes still a bit glassy.

"What? Don't know what that word means? Or can you not even fathom saying something to your own child that isn't an insult? God, at least try and make yourself a pleasant person to be around," I tell her.

"Pleasant..." she repeats back in a wimpy voice, as if to mock me. A few second later, she shakes her head and blinks a few times before finally looking at me again. "Are you done yet? I'm sick of hearing all your whining."

I can't do this anymore. It's just not worth it. I'd be better off talking to Luck. Speaking of Luck, when I look over at her, she's just sitting back, continuing to watch this scene play out with rapt attention.

"Come on, Luck. We need to get to work," I say as I grab my stuff and head towards the door.

Luck hops up and follows behind me, not saying a word. As we're about to walk out the door, she taps me on the shoulder and point back to the dining room table, where Alana is now staring at us. Just seeing her face is enough to make me irritated at this point.

"What now?"

"Um... I... uh... like your shoes?" My mother says, clearly unsure of herself.

I look down at my feet to see the pair of dress shoes I bought from the clearance section a few months ago. I then look back across the room at Alana.

"Wooow... How flattering..." I respond sarcastically. "A word of advice: if you ever want to actually try being nice to someone, maybe take some time to work on your material first."

And with those parting words, Luck and I step out the front door as I slam the door behind me.