Your mom is working on that hot meal.

The bus ride back home is largely uneventful. There aren't many people riding the bus this late, so the whole ride is relatively quiet. The bus driver occasionally hums to himself, a middle-aged couple sitting a few seat behind me chat softly to each other, and a business man sitting across the aisle sips a large cup of coffee, which I assume is the only thing keeping him awake. Luckily, I live relatively close to the NRU campus, so the ride is over fairly quickly.

I get off the bus and walk a few blocks to my house. As soon as I walk through the front door, a wave of exhaustion hits me. I knew I was tired before, but it seems you never realize just how tired you are until you finally get home at the end of the day. I also finally realize how hungry I am as my stomach growls. Thankfully, I can smell the aroma of warm food and know I won't be hungry for much longer. I quickly run upstairs to my room, where I toss my bag on the floor and kick off my shoes before heading back down to the kitchen.

When I get to the kitchen, I see my mom standing in front of the stove as she heats up some food in a pan. She must hear me as I enter, as she turns around to greet me.

My mom Elizabeth is quite the impressive woman. Since my father passed away really early in my life, she's basically raised me and my sisters singlehandedly. I know she can struggle a bit to make ends meet with just her single income as an office worker, but overall, she's done a pretty good job. She doesn't always have a ton of time to spend with us, but she still tries her best to make it clear that she cares about us. I only wish that I could have been a bit closer with her after all these years.

If I'm being realistic with myself, a large part of why I want to be closer to her is because of how attractive she it. I know, I shouldn't feel that way about my own mother, but I can't help it! Her dirty blonde hair frames her face so nicely and her smile always seems to warm my heart. Of course, it's hard to not mention her prominent chest. With the shirt she's wearing right now, I get a nice look at her cleavage even from across the room. I don't know if she realizes just eye catching she is when she wears those low-cut tops. And to round her body out, her wide hips only complement her chest size, giving her entire body a nice curve.

"Hi, Matt, sweetie. Glad to have you home," she says with her aforementioned heartwarming smile.

Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts, which in turn embarrasses me for having them in the first place.

"Thanks, Mom. I'm glad to be back."

"I can't believe you have to stay so late at the library this early into the semester. As if we don't miss enough time together." I can hear the slight pout in her tone as she says that. "Well, nothing we can do about it now. Your dinner's almost heated up. Why don't you go wait at the table and I'll bring it to you?"

"Okay. Thanks," is all I have the energy to respond with right now.

I walk across the kitchen and into the dinning room, where I sit down at the table. I look back into the kitchen to see my mom has turned back around towards the stove. From this angle I can clearly see her ass in her tight pencil skirt.

I quickly shake my head to get rid of that thought and try to distract myself. That's when I remember the thing I bought from that old lady's store. I think it was called the Random Remote? I pull it out of my pocket and examine it once more. I laugh to myself as I remember that ridiculous story she told me. As I play with it, I end up pointing it at myself and pressing the green button just to see what happens. To my surprise, the screen actually lights up. When I look at the screen, I realize a message is displayed on it.

- ERROR: USER CANNOT TARGET SELF -

Huh? That's weird. How did this thing know I pointed it at myself? After a brief pause, I get curious and decide to test something. I point the remote at my mom and press the green button again. A new message suddenly pops up on the screen.

- SELECTED TARGET: ELIZABETH ANDERSON -

I nearly drop the remote when I read those words. How? How could it know? There's no way it should be able to identify my mom by name. And yet, there it is on the screen in big bold letters. This remote couldn't be...?

It's at that moment that my eyes focus on something else: the red button. Slowly, my thumb starts to glide over to it. After a moment, I pause. My thumb is currently hovering over the button, just one bend of the finger away from pressing it. Time seems to freeze as I realize that there's only one way to test this for sure...