Mark tells his friends about the strangest night he had crashing at a friend's house one night during a road trip.
Chapter Description: Mark tells the story of his encounter with Mrs. Homes.
This story uses the AR concept seen in the comic, “Mating Wars,” by Dreamtales.
Mark grabbed his coffee from the middle-aged barista, and pulled up a chair to the booth where his four friends were already sitting. Marsha and Billie wee splitting a fruit salad, while Scott picking apart his muffin, and Nancy sipped from her Sundollar espresso.
The coffee place was surprisingly empty that afternoon. It was the Monday after all the Spring Breakers had gone home, so the city was surprisingly dead that afternoon. All the craziness the Spring Breakers had bought meant it would take two days to clean up, most people found it easier to just stay home.
Mark knew he couldn’t score a decent lay for the next few days. The only women out these days were the middle aged ones that were trying to rediscover their youth after mixing in with all the party girls these past two weeks. It might have been fine during the public orgy that sprawled itself across San Diego, but now it was pathetic.
Mark blew on his black coffee when a random thought crossed his mind. “Did I ever tell you about that weird road trip I took in college?”
His friends hadn’t heard the story, so Mark began to explain, “Marsha , Nancy, you know how women have those “attack hormones?” The girls nodded, “Billie looked like he didn’t understand, so Mark elaborated, “When girls are competing for boyfriends, they let out a chemical that smell that can shrink the competition. It can get pretty intense, some girls locker rooms look like the daycare at the playboy mansion.”
Marsha chimed in, “I never used it. Only bitches and sluts have to do that. I wanted a boy to like me for my personality.” Billie put his arm around Masha and they shared a smile. “But I did get hit by collateral damage once.”
“I did it,” added Nancy, “I used it once or twice to keep girls away from my boyfriend in high school.” Nancy seemed the type of girl that like she used her looks to get what she wanted, a tall brunette with classical features. Masha was lithe, almost elf-like in comparison, not that it ever bothered Billie.
Mark smiled and continued, “It’s just what girls do. But did you know those hormones can affect guys, too?” The table didn’t seem to believe him, so Mark told his story…
Sophomore year of college – me, my roommate, Flash, this black guy, Mike, and this other guy Jesse, I think he was Mike’s friend, or maybe he was Flash’s other friend, took a road trip, carpooled back home. I was going home to OKC. I was broke so I had to split the gas four ways if I wanted to make it home.
Flash was actually spending Thanksgiving with his girlfriend, and Mike was gonna catch a ride to Texas somewhere in Oklahoma. I don’t know what Jesse was there for. I remember, Jesse had glasses.
Anyway, so that we weren’t driving all night, we stopped off a Flash’s house in Colorado. I don’t know how long we had been driving, but we got there before dinner. We parked the car in the driveway, and soon Flash was pounding on the locked screen door. Eventually, Flash’s mom came to let us in and I’ll never forget my first look at Mrs. Homes.
Classic MILF. You could tell she had been hot when she was younger, but the years had been kind to her as well. Her hair a reddish brown, frizzy, but still looking like she went to the salon once a week. Little lines around her eyes from smiling so much. Pouty lips. She was practically bursting out of that ribbed green sweater and mom jeans. She was plump in all the right places, in all the right ways.
Don’t confuse her for an ordinary city cougar. Cougars are on the hunt for young men to take advantage of. Mrs. Homes was as comforting as a saying hello with a hug and a kiss.
Before long Mrs. Homes put on an apron and was serving us dinner. Homemade macaroni and cheese. Not from the blue box that you make on the stove. It’s the kind you bake in the oven. It had real cheese and toasted bread crumbs on top. It is heavenly, especially if you got the corner piece. But I should have sensed something was amiss.
I noticed my shoes felt a little loose, like I hadn’t tied them right, and my hoodie was feeling kind of big for some reason. I looked around and noticed the guys, too. Mike and Flash were both part of an MMA club outside of campus, and they had a habit of wearing really tight shirts to show off their muscles. Somehow, they were looking less cut than I had ever seen them before.
That’s how the strangest night of my life began.
There was no place to go in this little town in Colorado, so me and the guys did what we usually did in those days, we sat on the couch and watched TV. There was nothing on until we found one channel showing Thundercats. Ironically, or unironically. I don’t know. But we started talking about everything from He-Man to Transformers. Arguing back and forth like nerds do.
You’d think Flash and Mike look like jocks, but they’re really two nerds that work out. I don’t know how I lost track of time, but Flash brought out his collection of vintage toys, and Mrs. Homes came in with hot cocoa. Soon enough, we were kneeling around the coffee table playing, while Mrs. Homes watched from the couch.
I looked up and saw a bunch of skinny kids at that table. The glasses were falling off of Jesse’s face Somehow, something was changing us. Jesse asked to use the bathroom, and Mrs. Homes obliged to help him. She took him by the hand and I noticed he only came up to her stomach, and when he got back he hand shrunk some more!
In an instant I put it all together. Flash had told me how his mom really missed having him around, and that his dad was never around, he was some kind of IRS field agent. I theorized the sexual frustration, and “Empty Nest Syndrome” created a new pheromone. But instead of girls competing for boyfriends, this mama bear was looking for cubs to take back to her den.
I don’t know why I was the only one that noticed. Somehow, the other guys seemed oblivious to the changes. There was no way I could call for help in this little Colorado town, not that I could get any signal on my phone back then.
We went upstairs to Flash’s old room. Nothing special about it, but he still had his old Super Nintendo connected, so we plugged it in and got to playing. It was fine at first, but even without Mrs. Homes in the room, we were getting younger. I saw my dexterity shrink away, and I died on level one like a newbie.
When Flash pulled the controller from my tiny hands, I noticed he had stopped regressing. He was still a big kid, maybe ten years old, while Mike and me looked like we were ready for Kindergarden, not college. It was not even midnight when Mrs. Homes said “Time for bed.”
Mike must have been really sleepy, because he didn’t object to stepping into a pair of pull-ups before buttoning up his new pajamas. I slipped on a pair, and dressed myself to save some dignity.
I think we had planned to crash in the living room, but Mrs. Homes had two spare sleeping bags, conveniently, so we slept on the floor of Flash’s room, while Flash hogged the bed. Somehow, I went to sleep.
When I woke up again it might have been 2 or 4 A.M. Fussy baby sounds woke me up. I peered into the hall and saw Flash’s mom changing a baby’s diaper, on what I think was an ironing board. The wisp of blonde hair told me it was Jesse.
She wiped him, powdered him, and - I don’t know why – I saw her administer a suppository. After she put a clean diaper on Jesse, she placed a pacifier in his mouth, and quickly rocked him to sleep. She took him and set him down somewhere.
Then she came back and noticed me, and I guess Mike woke up, too, cause he was behind me. She led us both by the hand to a rocking chair by a window. That’s when I got to see’em. She lifted up her shirt and flashed her breasts at us. Two ripe melons brimming with juice.
I don’t have a thing for lactating women, but right them she was irresistible. Later, I dated a chick that told me about ancient goddess cults, and how they worshiped a huge breasted goddess figure. I can’t say for a fact, but somehow Mrs. Homes was channeling that goddess. So, there I was, sharing a lap with Mike, and getting a taste of Flash’s mom.
When it was done, she wiped the spittle off my mouth and carried us both back to Flash’s room.
I didn’t wake up until late the next morning. The sun was already pouring in through the second story windows. Me and Mike woke up alone. Flash must have been up already. We quietly and carefully made our way downstairs. When Flash saw us stuffing our clothes into a convenient nap sack, he darted towards the door, too.
“By the time we got to the car, Flash was looking sixteen again, and we got the hell out of there. Me and Mike were in the backseat sleeping, and I thought about sex ‘till it wore off.”
“Wait, what happened to Jesse?” asked Nancy.
“Last I saw him, Mrs. Homes was giving him a bath in the kitchen sink.”
“Wait. Is this the same Flash you graduated with?” Scott asked.
“So, you didn’t ask Jesse about it for three years?”
“Hey, I sucked on his mama’s tits. It would have been weird. We just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Well, what brought this all up, Mark?”
“Oh,” Mark replied, “I just noticed his coffee shop also serves juice boxes.”
Two college-aged hipsters were shrinking out of their clothes as the middle-aged barista served them both a plate of cookies.