Corruption

MJ and I redressed ourselves and left my room. We found my mother waiting for us in the living room. Still dressed in her black suit and pants, she cut an imposing figure. Well, she might have if not for the fact that her voluptuous body was visible even though she’d obviously gone through the effort of covering it up. I guess no matter how hard she tried, there was only so much she could do to hide her wide, child-bearing hips, her big juicy ass, and her huge tits.

Fuck, I really needed to stop staring at her. Even though Mom ignored me most of the time, I felt like I was really pushing my luck checking her out.

A part of me was hoping she’d find out so I’d have an excuse to try my powers out on her. It’d be so easy. I could change so much about her by altering her memories. I could make Dad’s passing much easier to deal with for her and help her move on. Her work would stop being a priority if only I’d work up the nerve to tinker with her mind, then I’d have the mother I’d lost when Dad died; a mother who loved her son more than anything.

My eyes fell to her breasts again, mesmerized as they wobbled entrancingly every time she moved her arms.

I could make her forget all about how wrong **** was and make her remember falling head-over-heels in love with me. I could make her forget all about everything and everyone except me and become her whole world. Her god who she would worship and serve and fuck and feed…

No.

I shook my earlier thoughts away. I couldn’t really do those things, could I? I’d be evil. Worse than evil.

But I’d already done something evil to MJ, hadn’t I? I’d destroyed her loving relationship with Peter and I never intended to fix what I’d done. Worse, I wanted more. I wanted to change more about her, make her devoted to me far beyond the seed of obsessive love I’d implanted into her mind. I couldn’t even begin to pretend I had the moral high ground.

There was nothing to stop me except myself, or a hero if I didn’t play my cards right. I might actually have to get someone like that on my side; someone with powers who could protect me and the people I cared about should the worst happen. My thoughts strayed to Ghost Spider, She-Hulk, Sue Storm, and Ms. Marvel. All powerful individuals, but also beautiful with bodies beyond what most mortal women could hope to attain. I imagined them falling to their knees in front of me, eyes wide with devotion as they begged me to change their memories and shape them into whomever I wanted them to be.

My mother stood next to the couch instead of sitting in it, a concerned look on her face. Her blue eyes looked MJ up and down before focusing on me.

“So,” she began, much more calmly than she had when she was in my room. “When did you two start dating?”

MJ brightened visibly. She grabbed a hold of my arm and pressed it into her chest. Her big, soft breasts practically sandwiched my arm. Mom’s eyes narrowed at the point of contact and her lips drew into a thin line.

“Adam and I have been friends for a long time, so we haven’t really dated per se. We only just made things official today,” she beamed at me.

I smiled, hoping Mom wouldn’t find anything weird or unsavory about our getting together so suddenly. Or about us having sex. Shit, I don’t think Mom ever even gave me “the talk.” Great, I can tell this is going to end so well.

“I had a crush on MJ for the longest time. I only realized recently that she felt the same way,” I drew my girlfriend closer to me. She hummed appreciatively. “After that, well, things just sort of happened you know?”

“I see,” Mom crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them upward. “Adam, can I speak to you for a moment in my room?”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left the living room, fat ass swaying and jiggling in her tight pants. I heard her door open with a creak before she shuffled inside.

MJ shot me a worried glance. I rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. There were few people who could say without a shadow of a doubt that things were going to be fine. Thankfully, with my powers, I was one of them.

“Don’t worry, MJ. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The beautiful redhead quirked an eyebrow.

“I think you and I both know it isn’t nothing, tiger. Did you see the way she looked at me when I grabbed your arm? I saw the same look from my father whenever I brought a guy home.”

I smirked.

“You ever let your dad decide who you date?”

She returned my smile with a devious one of her own. God, I loved this woman.

“Nope.”

“I don’t let my mom decide those things for me either. Well, you’re the first girl I’ve ever brought home, but it still counts. Technically,” I sighed. That had sounded so much better in my head.

Her lips met mine for a few moments. They were so soft, warm, and inviting. Just like the rest of her.

“You dork,” she murmured between kisses. “You lovable, amazing dork.”

Her hand grasped my cock through my shorts.

“Peter would never have stood up for me like this if his Aunt May didn’t approve,” she whispered. Her entrancing green eyes were half-lidded. They lit up when I stared down into her plentiful cleavage.

I grinned wolfishly. I wrapped my hands around her and grabbed her juicy bubble butt. She moaned.

“Unlike Peter, I have my priorities straight,” I gave her ass a smack. She whimpered and bit her lip. “Let me go straighten things out with my mom. Get yourself something from the kitchen while you wait.”

She nodded obediently.

“Okay. Don’t take too long, tiger,” she purred. She disentangled herself from me and walked towards the kitchen with an exaggerated sway to her hips. She didn’t look over her shoulder, but I could tell she knew I was staring at her.

With one last parting look, I turned and left the living room. The hallway beyond was small so it wasn’t long before I stood outside my mother’s bedroom door.

I peered inside. My mother had taken off her blazer and was sitting on the edge of her bed with her phone in hand. She was leaning over slightly which had the side-effect of accentuating her massive cleavage. How the hell she chased down criminals with those melons bouncing and jiggling in front of her I had no idea. Just like I had no idea what I was going to do with her if I ended up having to alter her memories.

I knocked on the doorframe.

She looked up from her phone. Her expression didn’t change.

“Come in and shut the door.”

I obeyed and then readied myself for whatever it was about MJ being here that upset her.

She stood up from her bed. Her breasts bounced around delightfully with the movement.

“Adam, how well do you know Mary Jane?”

Right to the point, I see.

I nodded.

“We’ve been friends for a while so I’d like to think I know her pretty well.”

She frowned at me.

“Did you know her father was a criminal? Ten years ago, he was arrested for theft. He has been the subject of multiple domestic **** complaints, all of which were dropped because his daughter claimed he hadn’t abused her or her mother.”

I actually did know. I knew just about everything there was to know about MJ’s life. I’d spent such a long time in her head I probably knew MJ better than she knew herself. While her father was educated, could hold down a job, and was outwardly friendly to those who had power over him, he had a terrible temper and he often took it out on his wife and daughter. He hadn’t laid a finger on either of them, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t verbally abusive. Seeing him belittle and scream at MJ had awoken something deeply protective inside me. It was part of the reason why I’d been so thorough when I’d smoothed over her memories of past trauma with thoughts of me. It was why her love and obsession with me was so strong. She remembered me as something she held on to while the man who was supposed to protect her; her father, had done the exact opposite. Compared to anyone else in her life, I was golden. Nigh untouchable. Not even Peter Parker who she’d once considered the possible love of her life had been there for her in her darkest moments.

“Yeah, I know. MJ and I don’t keep any secrets from each other. She actually cares about me, which is more than I can say for you,” the words left my mouth before I could stop them.

My mother glared at me. At last, an emotional reaction.

“What did you just say?” she said coldly.

All reason told me to stop talking or apologize, but my mouth kept moving.

“You’re never here. Ever since Dad died I’ve come home to an empty apartment every single day. I struggled for years to find friends or hell, even a girlfriend, and now that I’ve finally found one you’re trying to convince me to what, dump her? Why should I listen to you?”

Mom’s eyes narrowed into angry slits.

“You’re grounded. No more computer. No more games. I don’t want you dating that MJ girl any longer. And I never want to hear you talk back to me again.”

I glared at her. What the hell was her problem? I doubted she’d ever give me an answer. Thankfully I didn’t require her permission.

My power answered my call like an old friend and the light and colors around me drained into darkness.

I opened my eyes.

My son looked up at me with warm brown eyes. I felt a flush of warmth run through my body. He was so beautiful and somehow Greg and I had created him. I just wanted to hold him close and protect him forev-

No, not me. Not me. Mom. Those were Mom’s thoughts. It seemed I’d gotten caught up in her perspective the same way I had MJ’s. God, it was weird experiencing her memories firsthand as if I were her; my own mother.

I stared out through my mother’s eyes as she smiled at something younger me had said. I was eating breakfast at the kitchen table. The apartment was far warmer then and Mom and I were smiling.

Before Dad died, then. I don’t think I’d ever seen Mom smile since the day we got the news he’d been caught in an explosion.

Mom looked down at her watch and I caught a good look at her cleavage. Holy shit, it looked amazing from this perspective.

I rewound her memories to a few hours earlier. She’d just finished her morning shower. I could feel the droplets of warm water trace her curves softly. She stepped out of the shower and looked at herself in the mirror.

The world darkened around me and everything seemed to shake. I could feel myself being pulled from the memory, but I held on. I belonged here. My power made it so.

The darkness faded and the world stabilized.

I stared at her breasts. They were bigger than the outline in her clothes would suggest. I could feel a faint pain in her back, and a thought about getting breast reduction surgery. The thought was fleeting, not likely to metastasize into anything further down the line, but I wiped it away anyway.

My mother kept herself in very good shape despite her body. Her toned stomach and thick, muscular thighs gave her an Amazonian profile. Her breasts and hips however didn’t let her complete the image. I caught a flash of her pussy in the mirror. I stared in wonder. Mom’s pussy. I paused the memory and stayed there for a long time.

After I'd had enough, I fast-forwarded her memories until I was back where I’d started.

“Mom, how do I talk to girls?” the younger version of me said. He looked so innocent and curious. He hadn’t had his heart ripped out yet.

Sarah Marcus gave a small smile, but inwardly she was at a loss of how to respond. She’d never been good at exposing her son to the outside world. It was a cruel, dark place. She just wanted him to remain inside forever, safe. A girl would change things. He’d want to move out, get a job, and make enough money to take her somewhere nice and impress her.

She imagined me talking animatedly with a beautiful girl. She had short blonde hair and intelligent blue eyes. Gwen Stacy? Mom was imagining me and Gwen together?

The daydream continued to play out. Gwen and I were at a restaurant. Fat flakes of snow fell lazily outside the window. I paid the bill and the two of us walked from the restaurant hand-in-hand.

Alone and unseen in a nearby alleyway, a man with grimy facial features watched the two of us with eyes like murky water. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn silver revolver.

She shook the thought away. It had just been a dream. It wasn’t real.

“Well, sweetie-”

A nearby phone rang. The landline. My mother turned and glanced at the caller ID. Suddenly I had a feeling I knew exactly what day this was.

The precinct. They shouldn’t be bothering me. I told Lieutenant Stacy I was using my PTO. Being a cop is important, but my boy needs his mother.

She picked up the phone and answered.

“Sarah?” Lieutenant Stacy’s voice came in over the call. His normally commanding voice was subdued.

“Sir? What is it?” Sarah’s heart thudded heavily in her chest.

No. Please no.

“It’s Greg. He was caught in an explosion. He… he didn’t make it. His partner was burned pretty bad. They’re saying she might lose her ar-”

The world fell out from under her. She felt as if she were tumbling down a dark chasm where no light reached. Her hands grasped on something, and she held on with all of her might.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Adam asked. She tuned his voice out.

“Misty. Where are they taking her?” she said.

She ignored the increasingly worried looks from her son as Lieutenant Stacy told her where she needed to go. She handed the phone to Adam without another word. She grabbed her car keys and fled the apartment.

I hated this. Why did I even… why? Just why, Mom? I needed you and you abandoned me. Christ, you wouldn’t even tell me my dad died. Captain Stacy had to do that for you.

The man had been surprisingly kind to me. He’d always watched me like a suspicious hawk whenever I chatted with Gwen so it’d been weird to hear him speak so softly and compassionately to me, telling me that my father died a hero. That he’d saved so many people from the explosion. It was then that I knew I’d never be half the man my father was.

I hated being here, in her head. There was something wrong here, like just viewing her memories was leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

But I had work to do. Unless I wanted to move out from home, and I totally could. Could I really leave her behind, though? She was my mom. I shouldn't have been messing with her head, but like I said before, there was nothing stopping me and I was a very curious boy.

I started making changes. Small, at first, but they eventually grew more pronounced.

I made her remember telling me about my father’s ****, the two of us crying as we held each other. I made her remember feeling better just holding me before she left to go see Misty in the hospital.

Misty had been in a bad state. Thankfully, the majority of the burns she received had been on her arm. They’d had to amputate it, but she was free and clear to live a long, healthy life.

Mom’s mind had blanked me out at the time. She hadn’t wanted to think about me. I changed that. I made her miss me and regret not being with me.

When Mom finally came home, I’d tried to talk to her about Dad, but she wouldn’t have it. I changed that. Made her remember feeling better about telling me what happened.

I kept the same pattern going as the hours turned into days, days into weeks, months, and years. Every time Mom was away from me, I made her miss me. Every time she was with me, I made her remember being happy. I made myself her rock, her port in the storm that she could return to for safety, comfort, and guidance. I always had useful advice for her. I always knew how to cheer her up.

The love she remembered feeling for me turned into something more than it should have been, she knew. She started staring at me for longer than she should have, in places that no mother should her son. Her new thoughts and memories were tinged with an inescapable guilt. She wanted to distance herself from me, but I reminded her so much of her dead husband she couldn’t. I was all she had left of him, so if she stared at my body when she thought I wasn’t looking, there was nothing wrong with that was there?

One night a few months ago, I’d masturbated feverishly in bed. MJ had been on my mind at the time. I made Mom remember hearing me and opening my door to see what was going on, but only just. She gasped upon seeing me playing with my cock. A feeling long neglected stirred within her. Her hand crept to her pussy almost of its own volition.

God, what am I doing? This is so wrong!

She licked her lips. Her son had been on her mind for a long time. He’d always been there for her when she needed him. He was a shoulder to cry on, a patient friend for her to vent at, and she had vented at him so many times. He was so kind and patient and loving and gentle.

He’s just like his father.

The only man she’d ever loved.

Why was I doing this? I shouldn't have been making her remember feeling this way, but I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to.

And it wasn't like I couldn't just undo everything later, I told myself.

Her eyes traced her son’s naked body up and down. He was eighteen and growing into a remarkable young man. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She felt like a schoolgirl again, pining after a crush.

He’s my son. I can’t. It’s wrong.

Her hand didn’t seem to agree. It drifted beneath her panties and teased at her pussy lips.

But he’s been there for me when no one else has. Without Adam I doubt I’d have made it after Greg died. Would it really be so bad if I... fuck, what am I thinking? Adam would say no. He’d be disgusted with me. I just know it.

A thought came to her suddenly. It was small, fleeting, but it stuck. I made it so it would reverberate in all of her later thoughts.

A girl’s going to get her paws into him eventually. When that happens and she discovers how amazing he is, she’ll never let him go.

A flash of jealousy flared in her chest. She began actively rubbing her dribbling pussy, eyes focused on her son’s thick, beautiful cock as he stroked it. Suddenly, his body seized up. He jerked his cock frantically, groaning as he came into one of his socks.

Thanks right, baby. Cum. Cum for Mommy.

She put a hand over her mouth. Her huge tits jiggled wildly as she had an orgasm of her own.

Miraculously, he didn’t seem to hear her. Sweat poured down her body as she tried to slow her heavy breathing. She couldn’t believe what she’d just done.

I can’t believe I liked it so much.

She watched as her son threw the soiled sock into his hamper. A wicked idea came to her. She smirked.

Maybe I’ll do his laundry from now on.

She dearly wanted to know what he smelled like. Surely he’d smell exactly like his father, if not better.

And so I had her remember doing just that. Every time I masturbated I made her remember watching as I came in a sock. The next day, she’d find time to get home when I wasn’t around. She’d take the sock out of my hamper and press it up to her face, smearing it with my cum. She loved the smell and taste and she couldn’t get enough of it.

Eventually I reached her memories of today. When she stumbled upon me and MJ, it wasn’t disgust or anger she felt. Jealousy churned within her like a hot tub jet, but she couldn’t get the thought of me having sex out of her head. She wished she’d arrived earlier, when MJ and I were still going at it. She wanted to see my cock fucking a woman the way she deserved to be fucked. She wanted the woman to be her, but she loved me enough to respect my choices. I’d been a central pillar in her life, at least as far as she knew.

She wondered what Misty would think if she knew what disgusting thoughts streamed through her polluted mind. Surely she’d accuse her of betraying Greg, of being a terrible mother. She had to keep her feelings a secret from her, much as it pained her to keep her best friend in the dark about something so monumentally important to her.

The girl her son had chosen was beautiful, with striking red hair, green eyes, and a voluptuous body to complete the package. She could see why her son liked her. She smirked.

He has his father’s taste in women.

Idly she looked down at her body. Her breasts and ass were bigger than Mary Jane’s. Why didn’t Adam look at her the way he so obviously stared at his girlfriend?

Because you’re his mother. It's wrong. It'd be ****.

Her pussy quivered at the word.

****.

Her cunt tingled again.

That gave me an idea. I went back, editing her earlier memories. Every time she thought of, heard, or spoke the word ****, she’d remember her pussy tingling with excitement. In her later memories, her thoughts changed on their own. She whispered it to herself like a mantra and thought about it every day. She loved the word and all of its implications for her life.

Back in our apartment today, Mom stared at me. MJ went ignored now.

****.

Tingle.

****.

Quiver.

“I see,” she crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them upward. She caught his eyes following the movement. It was nearly enough to make her orgasm on the spot. She needed to talk to him. Alone. “Adam, can I speak to you for a moment in my room?”

She walked away before she could change her mind. This was it. This was when she’d finally confess her feelings for him.

I don’t care if he leaves his girlfriend or not. I have to let him know how I feel before she sinks her paws too deeply into him.

I completely wiped away the conversation we’d had after I entered her room and climbed from the depths of her mind.