A Flashback to Marge's Night

“MOM!"

Marge sighed audibly into the phone, hearing her daughter call out from her bedroom. She was in the middle of catching up with and saying goodnight to her loving, handsome husband, David, who was away for the weekend at a conference. She had hoped to just relax and settle into bed for the night afterwards, but that didn't seem to be in the cards.

"Brian is being a skeevy perv again!” She heard her daughter shout.

Marge’s eyes widened.

"Hunny I have to go deal with the kids. Lila is sleeping over and Rachel just screamed out about Brian bothering her again."

"Okay,” he said firmly. “We’ll have to have a serious talk with him when I get home. Maybe it’s time to bring in a professional, too. I'm sorry I can't be there to handle this sweetie, I love you so much and can't wait to get back.”

"Love you too and don't worry, I will sort it out."

Marge hung up the call and stormed down the hallway, her heart racing.

Her youngest, Brian had always been a bit different, though deep down Marge and her husband still loved him very much. Brian was just an anomaly relative to his older sister Rachel. Whereas his sister took pride in her appearance, was well-liked at school, ambitious, and self-assured, Brian mostly kept to himself, had no real friends, got mediocre grades, didn't exercise and spent his days largely in front of his computer.

Aside from his computer, the one thing he did show an interest in was women. Unfortunately, his interest and approach seemed to be growingly perverse in nature, with a special fixation on his sister and her friends.

Marge herself was not shielded from his growing curiosity in women. The other week, while she had been in the shower after coming home from a particularly grueling yoga class, she had caught him in her bedroom going through her underwear drawer, and after her and David sat him down to lecture him, they uncovered a pair of her panties under his pillow. Marge shuddered to think what her son used those for.

She and David had supposed it was a young man’s curiosity about women; and given his loner ways, the only ones he was around were Marge, his sister and her friends when they were over. However, they both agreed that their son’s “perversions” were abnormal and severe.

“Its..its not what it looks like Rachel!” She heard Brian stammer nervously as she approached her daughter's bedroom.

“Oh, I think it is!” Marge said, marching angrily through the door. Blood boiling at his contiunued lack of respect for his sister and her friends, she grabbed Brian by the ear.

“You’ve been warned young man, many times, about respecting women, especially your sister and her friends. You’re losing all your electronics for…well, I don’t know if you’ll ever get them back!” Marge shouted, dragging him out the door and towards his room, leaving Rachel and Lila to get back to their night together.

“OW! Cmon mom! Its not what it looks like…” Brian whined, as Marge guided him not so gently to his room.

Marge’s grip tightened as she glared at him, her patience wearing thin for his excuses. “You know exactly what it looks like, young man! I’m tired of your disrespectful treatment of the women in this home and your perverse behavior! This stops now! When your father gets home, the three of us are going to have a serious discussion about your behavior. Until then, you are not to bother your sister or Lila at all. Do you understand?"

"Yes.. Mom," he whimpered.

"I mean it, Brian." She fumed, and closed the door to his room forcefully.

Marge headed off to bed, though the anger and adrenaline that had built up from the incident kept her up a bit later than she would have liked. At around midnight, she turned off the television and drifted off to sleep, trying to push away her frustrations until the morning.

Marge slept peacefully that night. It was hard to describe, but she felt like she was in a luicid dream state. It was a pleasant experience, knowing deep down that she was getting such a restful sleep while enjoying the feel of such a blissful sensation. At some point, she found herself sitting up in bed.

And then she locked eyes with it. On her vanity sat the cute teddy bear her daughter had found earlier in the attic.

Marge smiled at it, not worrying about how it had gotten there. She stared intently at its one button eye, which was seemingly staring right back at her. The bear was smiling at her, while the eye was glowing a deep shade of red, beckoning her to come pick it up.

Marge climbed out of bed, and slowly approached the bear, a slight whisper that grew more insistent as the seconds passed calling out to her. "Hug me," it cried.

Marge, still smiling, reached out, and took the bear into her arms, giving it a warm, tender, motherly embrace. The moment she did, her entire body relaxed. It felt like a 100-pound weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, and her entire essence now felt like a feather blowing in the breeze. Her head felt almost empty, like it was stuffed with tissue paper, as if her thoughts were swimming in a river of honey.

The bear's eye morphed from a glowing red to emitting a blinding, flashing light that enveloped her face. A flood of whispers started seeping through her ears and into her mind, though they were too muffled and jarbled together to process what was being said. It didn't bother Marge in the slightest though, as she continued to cherish the wonderful feeling she was experiencing. Her lips stretched out into an easy, carefree grin, as the usual sharp, inquisitive light she carried in her eyes compeltely faded into a glassy stare.

The flash of light eventually subsided and Marge, still grinning from ear to ear, instinctively picked up Mr. Hugglesworth, as she now wholeheartedly knew him as. She walked with a purpose, silent precision in each step, as she tiptoed through the house, arriving outside her daughter's door. She looked to the bear, who was still smiling, and nodded. She opened the door quietly, before placing him on the chair in the corner of the room, facing the two sleeping girls.

Closing the door, Marge smiled to herself. She slipped her left hand into her nightgown and reached for her breasts, gently massaging them as she slid her right hand downward towards her crotch, underneath her gown.

"Much better, you're fixed now" a voice in her head whispered as she sashayed back into her bedroom.

"Much better," she mumbled absentmindedly, tucking herself back under the covers. "I'm fixed now."

Marge woke up early the next morning feeling spectacular. The hot water on her skin felt delightful in the shower, as she hummed the beat to her favorite new pop song to herself.

Stepping out, she dried off and looked into the mirror, her eyes tracing the curves of her body. She felt a rush of joy at seeing herself. The way her skin glowed, the way her hips curved, and her large breasts still sat perfectly. She did a quick turn, glancing over her shoulder to admire her smooth, tan, muscular legs and soft, heart-shaped butt. She just felt so beautiful today!

She grabbed a form fitting pair of blueberry colored leggings from her closet and slid into them, the tightness of the fabric clinging to her legs and butt and further accentuating her stunning figure. She wore a loose fitting, sky blue workout tank top than she carefully tied in a knot a little above her belly button, highlighting her tan, still fairly toned stomach.

Marge walked with a slow, easygoing pace this morning. She was feeling extra enthusiastic about her day, smiling to herself, ready to get breakfast started.

As she headed down the hall, she noticed her son's door was slightly ajar.

Marge felt her heart drop, her delightful buzz evaporating as she paused outside his room.

Poor Brian, she thought. Yesterday she had been so abrasive, jumping to conclusions about his actions without even listening to his side of the story.

With a light knock, Marge slowly opened the door, revealing her son, lying in his bed. He looked cute lying there, his chubby chest peeking out under the covers. His hair looked shaggy and unkempt and hea had a light layer of sweat was on his blotchy, eighteen year old face. He turned to her as she closed the door, a quiet confident look in his eyes.

"What's up, Mom?" Brian asked.

"Oh, erhm, sorry to bug you so early, sweetie, but I was just thinking about what happened yesterday."

"Ok.." he stated, his eyes not meeting hers as he briefly ogled her outfit.

Marge slowly waltzed over towards him, taking a seat on the bed by his feet.

"I realize it was extremely presumptuous of me to just take your sister's side without even giving you a chance to explain yourself, sweetheart. She was obviously very upset so I naturally reacted to that, but I want to hear your side." Marge said soothingly, gently placing her hand on his arm.

Brian seemed to perk up at this. He continued to avert his eye contact, moving his gaze up her body, settling on her breasts before finally looking at her.

"I appreciate that Mom. You were right, though. I was totally spying on Rachel and Lila last night, hoping to sneak a peek of them changing before seeing if they talked about sex at all."

Marge's smile waned, morphing into a look of concern.

"But it's not a big deal at all. It's not my fault that Rachel and Lila are both just so sexy and I think it's totally normal that I want to be around them and appreciate their beauty. Just like when you caught me going through you underwear, Mom. If you guys would just not make such a big deal about me admiring you guys and wanting to spend time with you, then I wouldn't have to resort to being so secretive about it. Boys will be boys, right?"

Marge nodded along, listening intently to everything Brian had to say. Once he finished, she leaned back, before bursting into a wide grin. Gosh, she felt so wonderfully releived after hearing his perfectly reasonable explanation. It was totally normal that Brian found his sister, Lila and even herself sexy. It's not like Marge hadn't been thinking the same exact thing about herself only a few minutes earlier in her bathroom! And Rachel was a younger, spitting image of her.

Boys will be boys, after all, and Brian was just trying to be sweet and polite and show his appreciation for them. And instead of being grateful, they had shouted him down and made him feel like he was in the wrong, when he clearly wasn't.

"You know what, honey?" she said, her voice full of affection with a hint of a laugh, "You're absolutely right. I totally get it now. Rachel is just going through a phase, worried about heading off to school. She'll realize that you are just trying to support and love her eventually."

Brian looked up at her, a hint of hope in his eyes. "Really, Mom?"

"Yes, really, mister. And I'm so sorry too, both for yelling at you last night and for overreacting the other day when you were in my room. It's so flattering that you find me beautiful, and I know you were just being curious going through my underwear drawer. Besides, it's not your fault for being curious when you only see your Mom wandering around the house in baggy sweats or drab jeans. From now on, I promise to dress much more fun for you, that way you won't have to be so sneaky about things."

She leaned in and gave him a warm, motherly hug and a kiss on the cheek, glad she had taken the time to hear him out.

"And as for your electronics," she leaned in even closer, whispering, "I think you've suffered more than enough, young man. Just remember, it's okay to appreciate beauty, but you must always be respectful. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom, I understand." Brian nodded eagerly, looking deeply into her eyes, causing Marge to blush. Her son really was growing into a handsome, young man.

Marge stood up and ruffled his hair. "Good boy, now I'm going to make special pancakes for you" she said, her smile lingering as she stepped out of the room, leaving the door open. She walked downstairs, feeling a newfound lightness in her step.