Throw them away, mister

Lilly, surprisingly, was enjoying herself. Her son, Peter, was still young. It was the last summer before university started, her last summer, she supposed, where she could consider him her little boy. And yet he had grown up in so many ways. Like earlier, when she'd been on her knees, helping him cum in her panties, he had shown himself to be so adult, so mature, filling her panties the way only a man could.

And yet her little boy still needed her.

She'd caught him trying to sneak out of the house wearing nothing but garbage. Garbage! Not only was it humiliating for him, but for her as well! What if one of her friends had seen him? What kind of mother would they think she was, sending him out into the world wearing trash.

Thankfully she'd caught him before he left the house. She was a good mother, and she was going to make sure that her son was accomplishing his tasks no matter what. It was only proper.

"You start on the closet," she said, thrusting two garbage bags into Peter's hands, "and I'll work on the drawers."

It wasn't difficult throwing clothes away. She felt a little disappointment at all the money they'd spend over the years ensuring that her son was dressed, only to have it end up at the garbage dump, but there was nothing to be done. It seemed that being dressed was not in her son's immediate future. That was fine. What was important was that Peter was being a productive member of society, and for him, right then, that meant not owning any clothes.

The underwear drawer empty, she moved onto socks. Then she noticed something. She couldn't hear any noise from the closet.

"Peter!" she turned and found her son still standing in the middle of the room looking dumbfounded, "It isn't difficult. Go to the closet and throw away your clothes! I shouldn't have to do all your tasks for you!"

"But..."

"No 'but's, mister," she said sternly crossing her arms under her breasts, "Unless you throw away all of your clothes, I'm going to have to take drastic measures."

"Drastic measures?"

"Yes!" she was getting frustrated. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the summer being mad at Peter. She was hoping to bond with him, like she had that morning, but now he was being so stubborn! "Drastic measures. Like, um..." she thought for a moment, "If you don't accomplish your task, then I'm going to have to contact the university and tell them that you're not ready for enrollment, that you have too much growing up to do."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

They stared at each other a moment. Lilly's resolve was unwavering. She would not sit idly by and let her son waste his life away. These clothes needed to be thrown out.

"Fine," Peter said finally, crossing the floor and opening the closet door. She watched for a minute, enjoying the site of him removing shirts from hangers, having them stuffed into bags. Then she returned to her work. Socks, the few ties he owned, jogging pants, jeans, all of it, into bags. It felt good to empty the drawers, making space for whatever may come in the future.

She tied her bag shut, grabbed another, then joined Peter at the closet. She knelt down and began to pull out his shoes.

"Those too?" he asked, whining.

"They're clothes, aren't they?" Lilly responded, "Look, I know it's hard growing up and having responsibilities, but that's what being an adult is all about."

Shoes gone, Lilly grabbed another bag and filled it with the clothes from the laundry hamper. Then she left the room, walked to the front closet, and threw away all of Peter's jackets. Leaving the newly tied up garbage bag by the front door, she returned to the bedroom.

"Look at you!" she smiled, "You're almost done!"

"Almost?" Peter asked, indicating the closet and dresser with this hands, "It's all gone!"

"Not all of it," she said, holding out one more bag, "Strip."