Mom's Reward

You’d dreamt about the clothes once or twice in the week they left, but tonight’s dreams were more intense than ever. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed they pulled you off again in your sleep.

After your session, they practically carried you to bed. You barely remembered how it went down—only that they were so absolutely gentle after your orgasm that you didn’t have a care in the world...about the book, about what you were doing and whose clothes you were doing it to…

The next morning, something in you had shifted. You woke up wondering why nothing was standing over you, waiting to see your eyes open. You could hear things banging around downstairs, and there was a very unfamiliar scent of hot breakfast.

“No way.” Not on a weekday. You wondered if you were going to find her wardrobe making a meal for you. Given her busy schedule, it was more likely. You threw on a pair of sleep pants and a tee-shirt and headed for the bathroom.

Sarah ran down the hall and jumped in before you, slamming the door.

“Hey!”

“Two minutes, Adam. It’s easier for you to hold it.” You rolled your eyes at the closed door. “Or you can make the trip to the other bathroom.” You tapped your foot, waiting for her as something shifted down the hall, in her room.

You glanced, waiting for it again. A streak crossed your vision, and you couldn’t tell what it was—only that something—probably fabric—was moving around in Sarah’s room. As you tiptoed toward the threshold, you saw the flash again—this time distinctly red and grey. Some part of it reflective.

The door popped open behind you, and you turned to see Sarah staring at you.

“What’s the deal over here?” She asked, searching your eyes.

“I, uh—” You were about to give her details, but instead… “Have you noticed anything, like, odd going on around the house?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Odd like mom making a farmhouse breakfast on a Tuesday morning?” Sarah asked. “I’m eating half-a-pound of bacon if I beat you to it!” She teased, bolting down the stairs. So much for getting anywhere with that.

When you turned back to the doorway, there it was. A long-sleeved gymnastic leotard—red and grey. Shiny. Propped against the doorframe of your sister’s room and posing.

“No no no no no,” You say aloud, watching the thing slink from pose to pose. As it did, the body seemed to morph in subtle ways. Hips...just a little wider. Waist...just a little thinner. Breasts...growing. And with visible nipples. “Not her stuff too,” you mumble.

Deeper inside the room, a drawer opens. You can make it out—the top drawer of her dresser, visible from your hall. A pair of knee socks rises out and begins filling to the shape of your sister’s feet. When you hear the sounds in the kitchen downstairs again, your heart thumps, and you make a decision.

You’re headed down the stairs with a resolve not to turn around. If those things back there wanted you, they’d have to come and get you in front of Sarah and mom—which you bet they wouldn’t try.

Halfway down the stairs, though, you encounter another surprise.

Tight, sauntering jeans come from the stairs leading to the basement, turning the corner and blocking the bottom of flight you’re on.

“Adam, I was just about to call you down,” You hear your mother say. Her voice gets closer, and the curvy jeans dive to the left, apparently flying down the basement stairs in a rush as the real McCoy approaches. “You did such a great job cleaning the house yesterday that I felt like you deserved something special,” She said, turning the corner with a spatula. “Are you coming down?” You looked up at her smiling face, working out this ‘house cleaning’ that you’re sure you didn’t do.

Did her clothes?

“He’s freaked about something,” Came your sister’s voice from the kitchen, the words sounding through a mouth full of food. You wave her off, smiling at your mom.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” You say, heading down the stairs the rest of the way and hugging your mother. “Thanks for breakfast.”

The hug...was a little odd for you now. She was wearing a loose casual tee, and you couldn’t get close without noticing that she was wearing the same black satin bra that had messed with you the night before. You hoped she didn’t sense anything awkward about it as you peered down the basement stairs, wondering about the jeans.

“So did’ja figure out what you were staring at?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah. A superfund site,” you joke. “When’s the last time you did laundry?” You sit down in your spot, your plate already made up for you. She really did go the extra mile today. “Speaking of which, ma—if I’m getting breakfast for cleaning so nice, what’s her deal?” You ask, getting a whap on the back of your head from your sister.

“You spent so much time down there yesterday that I figured you were doing laundry for the whole house,” Sarah responded. “If it’s such a problem for you, go ahead and clean my room to your exacting specifications.”

You signed, bored of the banter. Your sister’s mouth was way, way less concerning than her odd, morphing leotard upstairs.

“Enough. If Sarah did something that warranted, say, french toast—you’d get some too,” Your mom reassures you, heading to the sink.

“I’m a model daughter every day of my life,” Sarah beamed, folding her last slice of bacon into her mouth. When you rolled your eyes, wishing she would shut up, she let out a squeak. Her thong had just wrenched tightly between her asscheeks the moment your ire psychically pulsed into the space—but you could only tell anything at all from her own voice. “What the...fuck!”

“Language!” Your mother scolded.

“Hey—I’m sorry, but these frigging things just rode like...right up my a—behind.” You looked away as Sarah picked the wedgie, bothered by the coincidence. You didn’t actually make it happen somehow, did you?

A flash through the doorway, and you watched as the jeans from before scooted past the doorway and up the stairs to the second floor. Sarah had her back to them, but your mom turned away from the counter to the doorway with an odd look, then back to you.

“Did you just...see something?” She asked, washing dishes at the sink. You simply shook your head.

Everything was getting a little casual about moving around the house with other people here, and you wondered just how long it was going to be before they showed themselves.