The 8-ball
Chapter 6
When requested, it is imperative for a proper mother to clean up after her son.
Huh?
What does this mean?
Nah, I’m not that clueless; just messing around. Frankly, it’s pretty obvious what this card foretells. From now on, Mom’s going to be my personal maid!
‘When appointed to, it is imperative for a proper mother to clean up after her son.’
In all honesty, I expected the first card to have a trigger phrase and nothing else. Something on the lines of -Say ‘bra bounce’ four times in a row to have your mother take off her bra and jump up and down—Ya’know an actual word to say, but hey, I’m not complaining. I was starting to have doubts, but this card couldn’t have picked a better time to show itself, there’s no way in heaven or hell, Mia would put this folded paper in her pencil jar; especially with what’s been printed on it. Someone else had to of hidden this, something else...
Leaning back up from against the wall, I look over to my nightstand, spying the 8-ball.
“Look who found the first clue! Are you proud of me?” I say, not expecting a response.
‘Hm?’ The voice murmured it’s way into my thoughts, causing me to jump a tad. It’s been a while since I heard it, though, I shouldn’t be surprised by my own voice in my head. ‘Let me see.’
A small crack formed on the outside of the ball, actually, the crack seems to be a bit bigger than it was before. I wonder if-
‘Earth to pervert, my game of Tetris is waiting on me, hurry it up.’
“Oah, yeah sorry.” I stammer as I walk over to the desk, folding up the paper before shoving it into the open hole on the 8-ball’s surface. “I found this one in my sister’s room.”
‘You did? Where?’ The voice prodded, ‘I hid a few quality of life Sub-triggers in there, assuming it wouldn’t be hard for you to snoop around while she’s at school.’
Before I could respond, I felt a small, yet hard, tug on the opposite side of the card. Whatever this being in the ball is yanked it out of my grip to disappear in the dark depths of the 8-ball.
‘What the fuck? This one? Seriously?’
“W—what’s the matter?” I say with a sputter.
‘Nothing I guess,’ The voice says passively. ‘Just assumed you’d find this one later on; you being a pervert, I thought you’d check inside her underwear or something like that.’
Well, I basically did, if shoving my sister’s clothing into my face would count. This thing should know that if it could read my mind like it did so many times before.
‘Whatever guy, you can play the game however you want. But here’s a hit, if you plan on getting your hands on some arousing commands, you’re going to have to get yourself in some arousing situations.’ It says as my card begins to protrude back out of the crack. ‘But I guess you could make some perverted shit happen if you were smart enough.’
“If I were smart?” I say, grabbing the returned piece of paper. “Wait, how do I use this exactly?”
‘Now why the hell would I tell you that? Just go and—I don’t care what you do, just leave me alone.’ Is the last thing I hear it say before the small crack disappears and the light sound of Tetris begins to play.
“Meh,” I look down to the card in my hand with a smile and unfold it. “Let’s see how this thing works.”
Having Mom cleaning up the house 24/7 would be quite the power trip for me, she generally only tidy her own bedroom; leaving the rest of the place to Mia and I. Typically the latter, since by her logic, I don’t have a job anymore, and thus the majority of the house should be cleaned by none other than me. Mia doesn’t have a job either, but apparently, she can get away with it cause she has to stay in school longer and has other activities. If anything, having Mom start to do the cleaning would only be fair.
But dreaming about the long term effects of this simple command will have to take a step back behind figuring out how to use the trigger in the first place.
I re-read the card in my hand, ‘When requested, it is imperative for a proper mother to clean up after her son.’ In all actuality, it doesn’t seem that hard, all that’s needed it for me to tell her to clean something up, and like the proper mother she is, she’ll start scrubbing! I wonder if she’ll even put on a maid outfit, seeing her in her nurse uniform is hot in itself; though, since it’s one of her regular attire, it has lost some of its appeals.
In all actuality, getting to face Mom’s going to be harder than using the trigger on her, I’ve been avoiding her like the plague since two days ago after she found me with her underwear. I imagine she’s still pissed about it, heck, I expected her to burst into my room last night. Usually, when trouble strikes me, I tend to avoid her, to delay my punishment as long as feasibly possible. But she’s caught on to my get out of jail strategy long ago, normally; if she notices that I’m avoiding her, she’ll simply come to me.
But last night, she didn’t.
The only reasoning I can come by is that she’s upset over Dad canceling their date, but if anything; that would only make her more upset.
My mother is a formal, modest woman; she’s aware of her body and the effect it has on people. So when she’s out and about, she wears clothes that conceal her womanly frame. Or, she at least tries to. When you have a body like hers, It’s typically hard to hide everything. No matter what Mom wears, you can almost always outline her breasts. She’s against porn, or anything too sexual in the house, I have to keep a stash of my magazines under my bed just to keep it from her gaze. Yes I have some porn magazines, I know there’s the internet but having something to hold feels ten times better, trust me.
That all explains why she was so upset at the moment when she spied her own pantie on my bed. In her mind, she can be more comfortable around her family. There’s no need to hide as much of her body as she would if she were in public. Because the family doesn’t see each other in any way other than just ‘family.’ Which is typically true, ‘typically,’ and that’s why around the house she has on semi-loose clothing.
Mom should be furious about what happened, and the thought of what punishment she has planned freaks me the fuck out — not only that but what the rest of my family would say when Mom indelibly tells them. I’ve been using this ‘game’ as an excuse to ignore the feeling, but now that I’m thinking about it—I fucked up, my reputation with everyone I know will be, outright, ruined once she tells them. And this cleaning command won’t do jack squat.
I need to talk to her, as soon as she gets back. Okay, maybe not as soon, it’d be best to wait for her to change into her relaxed home attire. But none the less, I need to hurry. Maybe I can convince her that I sincerely regret my actions, she’ll at least keep it between us. If so, the worse that would happen is, I’d be grounded and given other punishments and labor to do — nothing new for me.
Deep down, I know she cares about me, if she didn’t I would be out on the street right now, there’s technically no reason for both of my parents to allow me to stay. Since I don’t have a job anymore, the only thing keeping a roof over my head is my mom’s, natural motherly love; albeit, she gives most of that love to my sister, but she still has a small amount for me. I believe there’s a tiny chance that I can convince her not to spill the beans to Dad, or anyone else. If she tells a single soul, it’s game over for me; I’ll be known as the guy who jacks off with his own mother’s underwear.
So that’s my new game plan, wait for her to come home, dust off my puppy eyes, and outright beg her to forgive me.
But-
While I wait-
I should do some more clue hunting... Preferably somewhere Mia won’t notice...
I’m confused again.
Hear me out; I searched for another two hours, and I actually found another card! This one was under the kitchen sink inside a bucket, the place I wanted to check yesterday before Mia barged in with her friends. But—Well—Look, I have no idea what this means, or if it’s a joke made by the 8-ball. It reads-
Poke.
I’m not making this shit up; it’s just.
Poke.
I went back over to the 8-ball for an explanation, but all I got in response was the soft sound of Tetris playing. Furthermore, while I was trying to decipher the word ‘Poke.’ I heard the front door unlock and Mom soon after walked up the stairs and right by me while I was on the couch. Seconds later her door shut.
I half expected her not to do much as soon as she came back home, she’s typically a bit tired after her shift at the hospital. It takes her a bit to relax, but even so, I did expect a frown or a glare, anything to convey to me that she’s still upset about what happened. But no, nothing. She just gave me a small nod as our eyes met, and she turned down the hall towards her bedroom, hips idly swaying in the wind.
But that made semi-sense, maybe she was simply too tired to remember to be mad, I noticed the top two buttons on her nurse top were undone, showing off a mere hit of her ample cleavage. She’d only unbutton herself if it were hot enough to cause her to sweat, so, I can understand her being beat.
What did made no sense, was what happened an hour and a half later.
I decided it was the perfect time to talk to Mom, the sound of running water echoed throughout the house, Mia was in the living room watching the telly. It was perfect. I knew Mom was in a good mood, not only from her light black blouse and tight genes, that contrasted her light skin perfectly. But she was humming to herself, subtly swaying her ass to the beat in her head — a bright contrast from how she was coming in straight after work.
Hell, she was even in the process of cooking spaghetti for dinner, which if you know her, spaghetti is by far her favorite meal.
I expected her bright deminer to shift, or halt entirely when I entered the kitchen behind her. But nope. She quickly glanced behind her and smiled.
“Hey, honey.” She stood back from the sink, grabbing a sheet of paper towel. “Could you do me a favor and take out the trash,” She said with a tilt of her cute head, gesturing with a nod towards the overflowing trash bin.
Not wanting to upset her in the slightest, I quickly nodded and headed over to the trash.
“So...” She began, putting a large pot of water on the stove and turning it on. “How was school?”
“Oh—Um, It was fine,” I said with a grunt, pulling out the large black bag from the bin, causing a few cans to slip out and bounce across the floor. “Mom, I—I wanted to—Uh—”
“Ah, what is it this time?” She said as she poured a bowl full of dried noodles in the pot of water. “If you want money it’s going to be a hard no. That is—” Mom stepped back from the stove after adjusting the heat. She turned around to face me with her hands on her hips. “Unless you have some good news for me on your job hunting.”
I shook my head, “No it’s not that. I—”
She tilted her head in curiosity, a small frown forming on the edge of her lips. “Is there something I need to know about?”
And now I’m back to the present, you can see why I’m confused, from the way Mom’s reacting, it’s as if nothing unfortunate has happened between us in the last week. Which doesn’t make a jackshit of sense, unless-
The 8-ball. That thing proved that it could erase memories, it wiped itself from Zoey’s mind, and she’s a fucking police officer. She trained for years to have a keen eye and an acute memory. Zoey can usually remember the first, middle, and last name of everyone she encounters; it honestly doesn’t even make sense. I admire her abilities in recollection. But all of that training she has gone in the shitter compared to what the 8-ball can do, it wiped her brain like I wiped my fucking ass.
And I think—I think it did the same thing to Mom. There’s legitimately no other way she’d be acting this passive after the stunt I pulled. I know my mother, like Zoey, she doesn’t forget easily. But the 8-ball said she’s still mad at me? Was it lying? If it was lying before, then what else was it lying about?
Well, I’m not going to just say ‘Hey Mom, sorry about stealing your underwear, if you remember that is. If you don’t remember, then forget about it.’
Nah, that wouldn’t be the smartest move, but I need to think of something to say. I recognize that frown and head tilt, she’s suspicious, probably thinking I’m hiding something, which I am but I don’t need her finding that out.
“I—I just wanted money...” I say, pretending I was caught.
Mom, on her part, took that as a believable response and sighed with a roll of her eyes.
“Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Just because we have money, doesn’t mean I’m willing to give any away. Once you show to your father and I that you’re willing to work for money, then we’d gladly lend you some.”
“Yes, Mom.” I hurriedly say, trying to get on out of the kitchen, now knowing I’m in the clear for some reason.
“Oh, Ryan wait.”
I froze.
“You dropped these,”
I turned around to see her leaning forwards, picking up a few cans I dropped. This angle gives me quite the view down her top, her glorious globs hanging in the confines of her blouse. The top generally covers up any cleavage that could be displayed, but it can’t do much if she decides to bend down like this.
“Here you go.” She said, leaning back up and handing me the cans.
“My b—bad.” I stammer. Saving the view of her rack to memory.
Wait that reminds me, the trigger, having her clean up after me. Not sure if what she just did was on her own accord, or if it’s the 8-ball’s trigger. Well, like Mom said, if I want something, I’m going to have to work for it. Time to try out the trigger.
After Mom turns back to the stove, I put down the bag and untie the top, reaching down its depths I pull out some trash and drop it on the floor.
“M—Mom.”
“Hm?” She looks back over to me, “What are you doing there? Take out the bag.”
Cough “There’s trash on the floor.” I point down to the pile of junk I made.
“Yes, there is. Pick it up and take it outside.”
“Don’t you think you should take it out?” I prod.
She squinted her eyes at me, “What? Why would I do that? You’re right next to it.”
“Yes but,”
Okay, this isn’t working, I need to tell her to do it, instead of just suggesting it. The voice did say it was a Sub-Trigger, meaning it’s not always active. Mom picking up the cans that rolled next to her was just her being curious. It’s a command, so I need to say it like one.
“Mom, clean up this mess.” I point to the pile near my feet, “Right now.”
Mom’s squinted face turned into one of anger,
“What the—Who the hell do you think you are young man?” She said in a half yell, “I’m your mother! You don’t give me orders, pick up that mess right now and go to your room before I think of a punishment.” Her voice rang with absolute authority the only she and other mothers have.
I instantly realized, I fucked up. That mess I made was cleaned up faster than you can say ‘Dog’ two times in a row. As I dashed out of the kitchen, I heard her mudder to herself in anger.
“What’s gotten into that boy...”
Thursday — Day 3
What has gotten into me!? I find out that Mom’s not mad at me in the slightest, in fact, she’s in a dam good mood. Or was in a good mood.... Then I come along and ruin everything! This is-
No, this isn’t my fault! It’s the fucking 8-ball’s fault! It—It-
Sigh
No no no, I can’t blame the 8-ball, well, I can. But it helped me out by wiping away my panty stealing ways from Mom’s memory. It didn’t need to do that...
Still, Mom’s pissed at me, and now, unless the ball wants to do me another favor; I’m fucked. I mean, on the bright side at least this-
Okay, I honestly can’t think of a bright side to this.
I spent the entirety of Thursday avoiding her again, though, she came into my room at 7:30pm. Not to keen on letting me off the hook, which only proves my theory on her not remembering the panty incident. If she came to discuss me bossing her around, she sure as hell wouldn’t let me get away with stealing her undergarment.
“Ryan, all I asked of you was to take out the trash, you’ve done so multiple times.” She said with a sigh, arms folded under her bust and leaning against the door frame. “I have no idea what encouraged your pompous behavior yesterday evening. Whatever you saw, or whoever told you it would be a funny joke, I’d suggest you stop listening to them.”
“Yes Mom, I’m sorry.”
“I know we all have our moments. Monday morning, for example, I feel that I was too hard on you, and I apologize for that. So I am willing to let your rude behavior slide this once.” She uncrossed her arms and moved them to her wide hip, causing her pushed up breasts to bounce down. “But I expect you to help with dinner tonight, think of it as compensation for your lack of punishment. Or you could think of it as a punishment, it doesn’t matter to me either way.”
She eyed me with an arched eyebrow, I can tell she’s daring me to argue with her. But honestly, helping with dinner is nothing to complain about. It’s something I’d do on my own accord if I were in the mood.
“Okay Mom,” I said with a sigh “I’ll help.”
“Good,” She said, smiling towards me. “Let’s forget about yesterday.” As she turned around, my eyes glanced down to her tight pants, her glutes shifting with each step. “Be down in five,” She called back, “We’re making meatloaf.”
Cooking dinner went by without a sitch.
Mom and I were back on good terms, and two hours later I’m pulling open the oven door with oven mitts on. It smells delicious; honestly, I should be a master chief if I do say so myself. Okay well, Mom did basically everything, I was just ‘there’ helping out with the smaller things. Still, I made this Meatloaf by association which means-
“Ow Shiiit!” I gasp as I touch to the metal pan, then, and only then, do I notice I only have an oven mitt on my right hand. As my left hand came in contact with the metal, I let go on instinct, causing. Well-
Crash
“Shit—”
“What was that noise?” I heard my mother’s voice from the living room, goddamit, she leaves for literally two minutes, and I immediately fuck up. “Ryan what the hell did you do!?” She shouts once she comes back into the kitchen and notices all her work spread across the ground in a meaty slop.
“It was an accident!”
“You—Why did you!?”
“I’m sorry! I just wanted to help out...”
“Ryan, what—” She brought a hand to her brow, “What are we supposed to eat now!”
“We can—Order a pizza?”
Her gaze turned cold, “Was that why you did this? Seriously?!”
“No—No—No—I—”
“You’re going to stop by the store after school tomorrow and buy more meat,” She gestured to the floor, “That’s a complete waste of money.” Sigh “I guess we’re having leftover spaghetti—“
“Look, Mom, I’m sorry!” I lean on the kitchen counter as she eyes me with her hands on her hips. “Just—Can you help me clean up this mess? I’ll buy us all a pizza.”
Her mouth opens, then whatever she was about to say was cut short. She freezes up, gets this blank look, then shakes her head as if she’s shaking away grogginess.
Mom glances down towards the sloppy mess then back up towards me.
“Let me clean that up for you baby.” She chirps, her annoyed tone completely vanished.
“What?”
Did she? W—Wait! Did she—Did I use the cleaning trigger on her? But, how did I? I tried it before, and she flipped her shit cause I was telling her what to do.... Holy shit, that’s it! The card said-
When requested, it is imperative for a proper mother to clean up after her son.
Before I didn’t request for her to clean up my mess, I told her to. I need not boss her around, I just have to ask her to clean up after me.
Looking down, all traces of doubt I had about this whole ‘game’ completely vanished, this is real. Entirely real. Mom’s on her knees, scooping the wet—and still hot -meatloaf into a dustpan with her hands. She then swiftly stood up, dumped the sloppy mess into the trash, grabbed a rag, wet it; and went back onto the floor. She’s ignoring me the whole time.
I lean down as Mom’s on all fours, scrubbing away the grease. Her cleavage isn’t viewable in her buttoned-up top, but I can see them hanging, bouncing against each other with each thrust of her arm. She doesn’t care in the slightest that she’s getting brown stains on her white shirt, and freshly pressed pants.
I stand back up and walk behind her, staring directly at her strutted out ass. Waving in the wind as she scrubs away my mess, not able to help myself I get down to my knees and lean my face towards her posterior. Watching is wave inches from my face, it’s so close, I can just... Touch... It...
Reaching out a finger, I lightly poke her ass. And—Wait what the fuck did I—Huh? Nothing. She didn’t react to me touching her, does she completely ignore me whenever she’s cleaning!? A huge grin grows on my face as I bring up my other hand and squeeze her rump hard. So soft, so meaty, so-
She immediately shifts and stops scrubbing. My eyes go wide, I shove my hand away and practically jump back to my feet.
Mom gives me a suspicious look before turning back and continuing to clean. After that close call, I stay back and admire her figure on all fours.
A minute later she slowly leans back onto her knees, thick ass laying nicely on her legs.
“All done,” Mom says proudly, getting back up on her feet swiftly, putting a hand under her bra she adjusts it in an attempt to get her breasts back in place after they were hanging for so long.
Once she turns around and notices me, she rushes over and gives me a hard hug, squeezing her ample chest into my chin my face sinking into her pillows.
“It’s okay sweety,” She cooed, patting my head. “Mommy forgives you for the mess you made.”
We stayed like that for god knows how long, I end up pushing myself out of her embrace before I go fall unconscious. And soon as I step back, and look up from her chest to her face, she instantly goes blank, and her eyes turn foggy as she spoke in a monotone, emotionless voice.
“Sub-Trigger.
Whenever Ryan asks, I am happy to, and will always clean up anything he requires. I find myself too focused on cleaning to notice anything Ryan does unless he touches me. Afterward, I will give him a hug for as long as he desires and forgive him for whatever mess he made.”
When Mom finished speaking she shook her head, blond hair waving around, then she blinks in my direction as if she’s coming back to reality for the first time.
Mom begins walking past me to the fridge, opening it up and leaning in. “I’ll warm up leftovers.” She glances over to me before asking. “What would you like honey?”
“Well, I uh—” I say trying to hide my erection and pretend like nothing out of the ordinary just transpired. “I mean, I’d like a pizza but—”
“Okay, I’ll warm up spaghetti for your sister and me, And I’ll order you a pizza.” She says matter of factly, as she grabs a plastic container of cold spaghetti, “Where do you want me to order from?”
“I—I don’t know... Pizza Hut?” I chose that store specifically, fully aware that we don’t have any Pizza Huts near us, so ordering from one would be quite expensive. Possibly over fifty bucks for a single pie. I have a suspicion that this is another trigger, so if she goes along with it-
“Okay, I’ll order one from there—”
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Can you order me four pizzas?”
“Sure honey.”
“Make it five,”
“Whatever you want.” She says with a smile. Then her faces blank again, and she speaks in monotone. “Passive-trigger, Ryan can eat whatever he wants I will do whatever I can to have him eat what he desires when he desires.”
Just what I was hoping for! Those are the Sub-triggers the 8-ball mentioned.
Mom shook her head and came back to reality, “I’ll order them now, so you won’t have to wait too long. Can you warm up this spaghetti while I do so?” She said, tapping the cold container.
“Uh—No.”
“Ryan.” She says sternly, her cheerfulness diminishing. “Please warm up the food.”
“Okay, yes mom.” I might’ve been pushing it too far.
This is amazing! Yes, so far I only found one Sub-Trigger, but dam, I’ve been able to do some serious shit with just one let me tell you.
This morning for example, before school, I decided to do another test with the food Passive-Trigger. I woke up an hour earlier than I typically do, and I practically shook Mom out of bed. Of course, she was grumpy and upset that I roughed her out of her precious sleep. But then I told her-
“Mom, I want food from Waffle House for breakfast!”
“Oh—You do? Okay, okay, give me a bit,” She mumbles through the grogginess, “I’ll change and drive you over.”
Of course, I ordered as much grub as my stomach could handle, since Mom’s paying for everything. What a nice woman she is. I even got her to drive me to school after telling her I wanted food from the cafeteria.
Ever since then, I had whatever food I want whenever I wanted. Hell, even when Moms at work. I called her on her phone, saying I wanted something from Jack in the Box, and at this point, what I’m asking for is outright ridiculous. The closest Jack in the Box to us is located three states away, but of course, Mom didn’t care. She told me to make an order, and she’d transfer over hower much money I needed.
The food trigger wasn’t the only one I abused, for a couple of days, I’d just toss whatever shit I had on the floor and watch as she stopped whatever she was doing to clean up after me.
I also figured out what that ‘Poke,’ trigger was. It was another Passive-Trigger, but a useful one at that. It does what the card implied. It lets me poke her, anywhere, anytime.
I walked in on her while she was relaxed on the sofa watching some movie. She smiled once she noticed me sit down next to her, since usually neither Mia or I enjoy any of Mom’s movies. But as I pretended to watch, I poked and prodded her body during the entire film.
It started with her sides, her legs, and her smooth face. Then I went directly for her breasts, sinking my finger into her milky flesh. I learned that She just doesn’t notice my pokes. She’ll only pay attention if I touch her for too long, anything that doesn’t count as a poke she’ll take note.
Sunday — Day 6
Sunday night I was bored out of my mind, and extremely horny. That’s when I had a thought. The voice said I could use this cleaning trigger for some arousing shit if I were smart. Why not try it out.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to wake Mom up by dumping a hamper full of my dirty underwear, watching her clean up the mess and fold my used laundry into a neat pile while in her immensely lose nightgown. Then have her hug me tightly in said nightgown with her breast almost spilling out into my face while muttering.
“I forgive you, honey.”
But no, that’s not enough, I want her to clean up something you don’t see every day.
That’s why, I find myself calling Mom over to the bathroom, asking her to look at something for me. I quickly sit back down on the closed toilet seat and wait for her arrival, on the ground in front of me lays multiple splotches of semen.
I wonder how she’s going to clean this mess up...