Matthew's Mom.

"What? Like on the news?"

"I'm afraid so, Matthew. You're mother will, from this day forward, believe anything she's told, by anyone. I understand that you're her only family?"

"Yeah, Dad left when I was three. She lives alone."

"Hmmm," the doctor said, "people with AGS can live healthy and productive lives but she'll need constant support--I highly recommend that, if at all possible, you either move back home or hire a full-time nurse."

"I understand. Don't worry. I'll take care of her."

"Okay, I'll bring her out. I've explained her condition to her, and she claims to understand, but you have to remember that it's out of her control. Even though she knows she has an illness, she'll still believe everything she's told."

With that, the psychiatrist goes back to his office and returns with your mother, Margaret. She was only a teenager when she had you, and she's not yet forty, but she looks like she could pass for thirty. Her most distinguishing feature is her figure--voluptuous in the ****, with wide hips, huge DD breasts, and what they would call on the street they would call an "apple bottom"--big and round and toned from yoga and tae bo.

She's still dressed for work in a fitted black knee length skirt and a baby blue blouse that looks like the buttons are about to burst.

Matthew has spent hours in therapy trying to purge himself of sexual thoughts about his mother, but now, seeing her like this and knowing she'll believe anything he says, he can't help imagine the endless possibilities.