Pushing Boundaries

"You owned the chore list we have been using for the past couple of years... I didn't realize..." Mom appeared to be in a state of genuine shock. And I started to feel less confused and more concerned. Though still very confused.

"Mom..." I spoke slowly, "Are you okay?"

My mother opened her plush lips, but didn't say anything. She then closed her mouth, gulped, and spoke. "I'm fine dear, just..." Then she rose her hands up defensively, as her eyes locked on mine. "I won't be touching the chore list again. You own it, so it isn't in my right to~"

"Mom... What?" I talked through an awkward chuckle. "You bought that... You bought the fridge... I'm... I'm pretty sure you own almost everything in this house."

"That's true, but I don't own that list." She noted and gestured to the whiteboard. "Your name is on it and~"

"What are you talking about Mom!? Is this a joke?"

Mom pursed her lips together. "Please don't raise your voice at me." She then sighed. "Are you trying to make me feel worse for not realizing? I said I was sorry. Alright? Go ahead. You can rearrange the chores if you aren't pleased with what I had put down."

I stared at her in complete silence; I was at shock towards how she was acting. This was entirely new for her. My mother isn't usually the one to crack jokes or pull one's leg. She has always been direct with people. And from the way she was talking, it seemed as though she was entirely serious.

But that's what didn't make sense! She has to be sick in the head, or something along those lines.

"Mom, hold on... Uhh, take a seat, I'm not sure you're feeling okay."

"Samuel, don't be ridiculous" Mom huffed and rested her hands on her hip. "If you're not going to adjust anything, I'm going to start working on my chores. Unlike you and your sister, I try to get things done in a timely manner." With that said, Mom walked out of the kitchen, and my eyes followed her. Though, this time I wasn't checking out her buttocks. I was too confused over what had happened to be a pervert.

I had switched two names around as a joke, and now my mother had chosen today out of all days to be an idiot. That's the plain and simple way to describe things. She's acting like an idiot. And my mother is far from a fucking idiot, so what's going on.

"Come back Mom!"

"What is it?" Her voice called back in response. "I'm going to change into my outdoor clothing."

"I... Am... I'm gonna switch the chores around!"

"Oh..."

Mom had originally assigned me the duty of cutting the grass. It was a chore that I had procrastinated on doing for the past two weeks. But now, with our names switched around, Mom was apparently about to take that task upon herself.

"Okay," Having returned to the entrance of the kitchen, Mom leaned against the entryway wall and eyed the board. "How do you what to set things up?"

"Hmmm..." I frowned. Something was wrong with her, and my worry for my mother's well being still itched the backmost corner of my brain. I just wanted too... Erase... Our names..."

Raising an eyebrow, Mom nodded. "Okay? But why~" At that moment, she blinked. Then again. And one more time.

"Samuel stop messing with my board! I'm the one who sets that every week, not you." The stone-hard stare she lingered on me froze me to the core.

"Sorry... Mom?" I had erased the three names, but she only switched her attitude once I removed my own name from the top of the list. My perplexion levels had switched to an all-time high, I could say without a doubt that I had no idea what was going on.

She shook her head with closed eyes and tsked. "If I let you kids decided who does what there would be an **** imbalance. Just be glad I'm not..."

While Mom wasn't paying attention, I wrote down my name where it was before I had removed it.

She opened her eyes, scanned what I wrote silently, and her attitude changed instantly. "Oh, nevermind honey. I guess you own that list. Well, go ahead and change it, it's yours."

"Okay?"

"Now, I will ask you to be fair in... Sam! Stop messing with my... Nevermind sweety, I didn't realize it was yours. Excuse what I was... What do you think you're doing?!"

"Uh-Huh..." I had spent the last removing and adding the ''m'' in my name. Mom switched on and off from believing the chore list was hers and seeing it as mine. And I just watched the changes in her expression.

Something fucking weird is going on.

"Are you going to change anything? Because if not I need to..."

"Hey I'm sorry Mom, I'm just not sure if this list is mine or not. You keep switching between yelling at me so I'm not sure."

"Sam, your name is on it clear as day. You obviously own it."

"FINE!" I exclaimed, finding myself entirely done with my mother's nonsense. "It's my list, yes?"

"Mhmm." Mom licked her lips idly. My focus moved to her lips, and I found myself enticed by them.

"Okay, then here's your new chore." I spun around and wrote something down under her name.

She leaned in, her body squeezed up somewhat close to mine, and I could feel the softness of her breasts press into my side.

"I see, I must make out with you once every hour you're home? Hmmm..." She licked her lips again, this time eyeing me up. Her mind thought over if that was a valid chore for her to do. But then realizing that she needed to set an example for her children, she decided to go through with it.

I didn't expect her to do what she did. But the moment I felt her slender hands cup the sides of my face. And her plush pillow-like lips draw towards my face. I knew that there was some weird witchcraft at play here. My mother would NEVER do this.

Yet here she is.

She kissed me. Her soft lips were moist and melded with mine. I haven't kissed a woman before. I'll be entirely honest, so I wasn't sure how it was supposed to go down. But my mother was experienced, and she apparently wanted to do her new chore to the best of her ability. She practically sucked on my bottom lip as I felt her upper lip between my mouth. Her nose pressed just below mine, and I could smell her perfume.

Our faces were held tightly by her hands. What felt like hours ended abruptly the moment I stuck my grazed is against hers.

Mom pulled away, leaving a trail of spittle that lingered on her bottom lip and dropped against her large bosom.

She breathed somewhat heavily. "That was just a regular kiss Sam. No tongue is needed."

Regular kiss my ass. That was a full-on face fuck between lips from mother to son.

"So is that all?"

"Hmmm?" My eyes were set on Mom's lips. Every part of me wanted to go again; her soft lips tasted like heaven and felt even better against my mouth.

"Is that the only chore I have? If so, I hope you delegate the important stuff to yourself and your sister."

"Uh..." I licked my lips in an attempt to gather up any remanence of her taste. "Can we do that again?"

Mom dropped her mouth open in shock. "No. Of course not! That would be inappropriate, and you are fully aware of that young man. Once every hour, no more."

Well then, I could make it so that she must do it twice an hour. And knowing her, she'd be keen to just get it over with. But I wanted to test her logic here.

"And what we just did wasn't inappropriate?"

"I.. I mean..."

"You kissed me Mom, on the lips. I'm your son."

She stammered for a bit, and her face visually reddened. "It was a chore that must be done, that is the only reason we did that. So it wasn't wrong."

"But... I wrote down that chore."

Mom crossed her arms, and my eyes shifted to the hint of cleavage she revealed during the action. I remembered the feeling of her soft tits brushing against me, and I was tempted to give her another ''chore.''

"You own the list of chores so you get to decide what is and isn't something we must do."

"How.. Why... Why do I own it?"

"Your name is on it, am I not correct?"

"I don't understand! So if I... I dunno, write my name on the fridge."

"Don't write your name on my fridge."

The marker in my hand was still uncapped, and while I would usually respect a direct order from Mom. I was still on the high of having just made out with her. So consequences be dammed, I'm writing her name down.

That's what I did.

Mom frowned and yelled as she saw what I was doing. "SAMUEL! Stop that right now! You're going..." Her words died down, as did the fire in her eyes.

She blinked and read what I had written with the dark-black marker.

"Sorry for yelling at you sweety, I didn't know you owned my... Your fridge."

Okay... I'm starting to surmise what's going on here... Apparently, I have some magic power? Or perhaps it's the marker doing the work.

"It's okay Mom."

"I'm serious, sweety," I flinched on the feeling of Mom's hand resting on my shoulder. She looked at me with sincere eyes. "I don't want to upset you if I had known I wouldn't have raised my voice."

"Mom it's fine," I offered her a half-smile and returned my focus to the fridge. "So here is what's going to be the new chore layout."

In the next minute, I erased all the tasks under my name and had everything assigned to Mom and my sister.

Watching me write in silence. Mom observed what I was doing and only spoke up once I had finished.

"So honey, I know you own the chore list, but don't you think it's unfair that you don't have anything to do?" She tilted her head as if seeing it from a different angle would change things.

"Oh, no. It's definitely unfair. But I own this list, right Mom?"

"Well... Yes, but..."

"So I don't want to do anything, that's why I set it up this way." I pocketed the marker, happy with my craftsmanship.

"I guess that makes sense," She scratched her arm. Mom was clearly put off by this. Perhaps a part of her realized how much power this would give her son over the family's actions, and she was trying to find a loop-hole out of it. "Things can't stay like this though... You're not going to be living under my roof without working, mister."

Mom crossed her arms again, but this time I didn't look at her as my authority figure. I looked at her as a person who's belongings I could own by merely writing my name on things. She had just said this was her house. But I might be able to change that in a few hand strokes. Just as she said the fridge was hers. Now, apparently, it's all mine.

"Well, it's my list, and you can't do anything about it. So just shut up." I grinned and pulled the marker back out of my pocket; I wanted to add a few more dumb rules just to test the extent of this magic shit that's going on.

But Mom's gaped open mouth, and wholly shocked deminer showed that I might have overstepped my bounds. "Samuel Dean. Don't ever speak to me that way again."

"Shit, sorry Mom," I said, the tip of my marker was frozen against the whiteboard.

"No Sam. Sorry won't cut it. Please go to your room; I don't appreciate this behavior you're displaying." Mom's stare and tone of voice was falt and served as a warning to me that this was my last chance to abide by her instructions. The way she looked at me, I could tell that she wanted me to leave, she didn't want to have to punish me. But if she must, she wouldn't hesitate.

Unlike me, I was hesitating. And at that moment in time, I chose to take a risk.

On the chore list, I wrote the first and so far, only chore under my name.

''Insult Mom three times a day.''

"I was just following my chore," I uttered slowly, not sure if this bullshit idea would work. "You said I should have more stuff to do, well I was doing what was written down."

Mom paused, "You wrote that down."

"So? It's a chore."

"I don't see the use of it.. But... Alright, well you need to insult me two more times, young man. I'm not pleased with you and won't tolerate anymore skipping what is required of you to do in order to live in this house."

"Okay... Bitch..."

Oh my god... I almost choked saying that. It didn't feel natural at all. Yet her dark eyes showed no reaction of being called a bitch by her own son. From her perspective, I was just doing my one and only task.

Because apparently, I own the thing that delegates the household duties.

And I gained that power by just writing my name on a whiteboard... It still doesn't make sense, if it was the marker that had the power. Mom would've been affecting Nichole and me every time she distributed out our weekly chores.

Yet clearly, from my lack of... Doing them, it didn't work. Or maybe it worked, and I just didn't care...

No, that wouldn't be the case, or I would have noticed something off with the marker before this point. Mom and my sister had used it to write her name on stuff in the past, and none of this weird claiming shit had happened then.

It has to be me doing this. Do I have some superpower? Am I magic, can I join the Justice League? Would my name be Marker Man?

....

I'm gonna need to test this shit out some more.