I settled into the underbrush and waited. Mom should be along any minute. A creature of habit, her evening run would bring her no more than five feet from this cover I’d chosen. It would be a quick and brutal surgical strike. Take her down. Knock her out. Bag her up. Leave.

Anticipation rolled in my belly, balanced by the hardness of my cock. It was going to happen. I was really going to kidnap and rape my mother. My lifelong fantasies were about to become reality.

The night-vision goggled let me see Mom when she rounded the bend. Head high, earbuds blaring, she was in her own world when she ran. I understood the need to get in the zone, but it was stupid for a woman to run through the woods alone at night. But I’d never claimed my mother was smart. Just sexy as hell.

“Come to me,” I whispered, gathering my feet under me. “Come get your son’s dick.”

As Mom pulled even with me, I lunged. My shoulder hit just under her ribcage and my momentum carried her off her feet as the air whoofed from her lungs. In a flash, I rolled her onto her back and slapped her. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Just stun her long enough for the injection.

Mom wheezed for breath, struggling feebly as I shoved the hypodermic into her arm. A quick shot of knockout juice and I shoved the needle rig under my belt. Even as Mom took her first deep breath, my right hand was at her throat. Squeezing. My left hand caught her cheek, then returned to backhand her.

“Please,” Mom managed to gasp.

That one word was so fucking sweet. So much emotion in it. Fear. Real fear. She knew she was about to be taken. Used. She had time to tense her body for one feeble push before the knockout juice did its job. Then I was sitting astride my mother’s limp body.

A quick look around told me no one had seen. I stood and threw Mom’s body over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry and stumbled back into the woods. Barely ten feet into the dense forest, a wooden rail fence marked the boundary of the interstate highway property. My work van sat there, waiting to make my getaway.

I tossed Mom’s limp body over the fence and climbed over. Opened the back doors of the van. Mom’s body was light in my arms as I laid her into the coffin-shaped crate I’d built for this purpose. I shoved a wad of gauze in her mouth, winding it around her head to hold it in place. Another roll of gauze worked as a blindfold. Half-inch sisal rope bound her wrists, knees and ankles. Even if Mom woke up, she wouldn’t be able to move.

Two weighted blankets went on top of my mother’s unconscious body. Then I fitted the lid over the crate. The battery powered nail gun fixed it shut in seconds. Then the doors were closed, I was inside, the engine roared to life, and I glided onto the interstate as if I hadn’t just kidnapped my own mother.

“Fucking awesome,” I said to myself. “Everything went perfectly.”

Chapter 2

After hiding Mom’s coffin in our cabin in the woods, I stopped by the coffee shop to get breakfast. I hung around long enough to make sure the lady behind the counter remembered my face. A big tip in her jar next to the register made sure that my alibi would hold. Five minutes later, I was pulling into the state park where I’d rented a weekend campsite. A park ranger stepped out of the shack and leaned down to see into the car as I stopped.

“Out early,” he said. “Usually, I don’t see anyone for the first hour or so I’m on duty.”

“I woke up hungry and didn’t want to mess with building a cook-fire in the dark,” I told him. Offered him a donut from the open box. “Got plenty. Take one.”

“No, thank you,” he said, stepping back and holding up a hand. “I have breakfast right before I come to work. And those things make you fat.”

I shrugged and stuck a donut in my mouth. The ranger waved me through. Back at my campsite, I killed the engine and sat at the picnic table. I thought about Mom as I enjoyed my continental breakfast. She should be waking up about now. Realizing that she was trapped.

My cock throbbed at the image in my head. She would struggle. Try to scream. And when she found out she couldn’t do anything to get loose, she’d lay there and cry. Maybe pray silently or even beg out loud.

“Fuck,” I moaned, rubbing my cock through my jeans. I opened my fly and pulled it out, stroking it as I thought about Mom, scared and held in bondage. “Yeah. No way you can get out,” I whispered, pumping my dick. “Not until I take you out and rape you.”

It was a favorite fantasy. One I’d enjoyed so often that I could make it last almost a whole hour. Imagining how I’d cut Mom’s clothes off. How I’d run my hands over her soft tits and her firm thighs. She’d resist when I pushed her legs apart, but after three days without food or water, she’d be weak. I’d look into her face as I pushed my cock into her pussy.

“How’s it feel, Mom?” I’d grin as I began moving inside her. “How’s it feel to be raped by your own son?”

It was too much tonight. Knowing that I was on the way to living out my disgusting fantasy, my balls tightened quickly. I sat at the picnic table, beating my dick hard and fast. When I came, I shot jizz clear to the other side of the table. Groaning as I imagined the way Mom’s pussy would quiver when she felt me coming inside her.

“Soon,” I told myself. “Establish the alibi. Call the police. Let Mom get desperate.”

Laughing softly, I took another donut.

This was fucking awesome.

Chapter 3

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your mother?”

I stared at the detective in false shock. Other than me, I didn’t think anyone wanted to hurt her. Mom was so fucking nice it hurt. Everyone who crossed her path was her friend. I made a show of thinking. Shook my head.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said. I paused and furrowed my brow. “I mean, that last boyfriend of hers was a real dick. Kind of mean to her at times. But I don’t think Allain would hurt her. Not really.”

Interest sparked in the detective’s eyes. I’d told him the truth. Allain Simpson was an asshole. I blamed his French heritage. And he’d said some pretty hurtful things to Mom, which is why he was her ex-boyfriend. Also, he had moved to Los Angeles after they broke up. Or so he’d claimed when he was leaving.

“Do you have any pictures of this guy?” The detective asked. “Anything at all that might help us identify him.”

I shook my head. “No. Mom might have some pics of him on her phone.” I shrugged. “But she had her phone with her. You didn’t find it?”

A shake of the head was my answer.

“We think we found where the perp was hiding,” he said. “But it was over twenty-four hours after she was last seen before you returned from your camping trip. There wasn’t really a crime scene to search.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. Propped my elbows on the kitchen table and rubbed my face with both hands. I had to sell this performance.

“I told her not to run through the woods at night,” I said. “I knew it was dangerous.” Closing my eyes, I slumped in my chair. “Now she’s gone.”

“Don’t worry, son. We’ll find her.” I found a gentle hand on my shoulder and looked up to see the hardened face of the detective had softened with sympathy. He didn’t believe a word he was saying, and we both knew it. “It’s just going to take some time. I think the best thing you can do right now is act like nothing’s happened. Maybe we can lull the perp into thinking that we didn’t have enough to start an investigation, and he’ll get sloppy. Show up somewhere.”

Sitting up, I tried to make my voice hopeful.

“But you actually do have enough to start an investigation, right?” When he didn’t answer, a wave of relief swept through me. “Do you think she’s nearby? Maybe you could bring in some dogs…”

He shook his head again. Closed his notebook and slid it into his pocket.

“She could be anywhere,” he said. “Someone planned this well. There were no clues left behind.” He stopped and stared at his shoes. “Too many people use that path for a dog to be any use. There’s a short trail through the woods to the highway, but that only broadens the scope of where she might have been taken.”

Sighing heavily, I slumped in my chair.

“She’s gone,” I said, thinking about my dog that had died last year to make my voice crack a little. “I’ll never get her back. Never see her again.”

Uncomfortable with my show of emotion, the detective edged towards the door. With one hand on the knob, he turned to look at me.

“We’ll do everything we can,” he said. “Don’t give up.”

I watched him back out of the driveway and take off down the street before I sat back and laughed. He’d given up at least twice the information as he’d received. I checked my watch. Almost forty-eight hours since I stuffed Mom in her box. She’d surely pissed her pants and shit herself by now. Probably was certain she’d been forgotten.

“I haven’t forgotten you, Mom,” I whispered, rubbing my cock through my jeans as it throbbed to life. “I have some plans for you and that pussy of yours.”

Chapter 4

Muffled cries for help greeted me when I knocked on the box. I laughed as I watched it shake as Mom wiggled inside it. Heard the panic in her voice as she tried to scream through the wad of gauze in her mouth.

“Hang on, Mom,” I called, ramming the prybar under the lid. “I’ll have you out in a minute.”

Yes, I would. And I’d have my dick in her in less than a half-hour. I didn’t need to reveal that yet, though. Right now, I could be her savior. The surprise when I turned into the villain would be beautiful. My cock got hard just thinking about how she’d be devastated when I raped her the first time.

The nails on the box squealed as I pulled the lid free. Mom's stink washed over me. Sweat, piss, and shit. I'd expected that. I folded the weighted blankets back and looked down at the woman I’d wanted to fuck as long as I’d known was fucking was. Blonde hair, big tits, curvy hips. She was a knockout and had plenty of men wanting the same thing I wanted. None of them wanted her badly enough to do this, though.

I unwound the gauze from her mouth. She worked her jaw, panting with relief, little mewls of fading terror in her throat. My cock ached to be in her throat. Soon, I promised it. Soon.

"It's me, Mom," I said, smiling down at her. "I found you."

“Chris?”

Her voice was jagged and broken. Scarred from screaming for hours and dry from dehydration. It betrayed her weakness. Fuck, it was so sexy!

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, unwinding her blindfold. Seeing the haggard, exhausted, fearful eyes was worth the extra effort. Really, that was the only reason for the blindfold. So I could see her eyes when things shifted. “Are you okay? You stink pretty bad.”

"Oh, baby," she croaked. "Thank God. Thank God it's you. Please, untie me."

I smiled, staring into her eyes. Made no effort to free her further. Just watched. Waited.

“Can you untie me?” she asked. “Do you have any water?”

“I have water,” I said. Smiled as I shook my head. “But no water. Not for you. Not just yet.”

Confusion knitted my mother’s brow as I pushed her tee shirt up. I flicked a pocketknife open and slit the front of her sports bra. Mom gasped as my hand finally got to feel her tits. Soft and firm. Beautiful pink nipples.

“Chris!”

Mom struggled in the box as I teased her nipple. Pinched it until it hardened. Met her eyes again.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” I asked. “Did you know that I measure every woman I see against you? Every one of them lets me down in one way or another. Because the only woman I want to fuck is my own mother.”

“What?”

The first inkling of danger touched her eyes. The first suspicion that I wasn’t rescuing her. My fingers slid over her skin to cup her throat. My thumb brushed against her lips as she blinked in dumbfounded confusion.

“Do you like the box I built for you?” I asked. “I knew you’d never let me get into your bed and fuck you the way I want. The was you really deserve to be fucked. I had to come up with a plan to get you alone. Get you helpless. So I can make us what we are destined to become.”

“Chris, this isn’t funny,” Mom snapped. She struggled weakly. “Let me out of this damn box. Stop talking crazy and help me.”

My hand moved down her body. Kneaded her tits. Trailed over her flat belly. My fingers dug under the waistband of her running shorts.

“Chris! No! I’m your mother!”

I was surprised to find my mother’s pussy bald. Waxed, not shaven. A blade would have left stubble by now. My fingers probed between her legs.

“Do not touch me there!” Mom tried to shout, but her mouth was too dry. Her throat to raw. It came out as a rough croak. “Get your hands off me, young man!”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My fingers pealed back the folds of her pussy. Parted the lips. I stared at Mom as I shoved my finger into her dry pussy. “I’m going to fingerfuck you.”

Tears welled in Mom’s eyes. Her body shook as she sobbed. I felt her pussy tighten on my finger in time with her grief and horror. Still staring at her, I pulled my finger out and held it to my nose. Inhaled deeply.

“God, your pussy smells good,” I told her. “It’s going to feel so good wrapped around my dick.”

Mom's face contorted into a mask of revulsion. She thrashed within her bindings, but the days without food or water had left her weak and ineffective. I watched her struggle, aroused by her futile resistance. She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

"You're sick," she hissed. "This is wrong. I'm your mother!"

"That's the point," I said, unzipping my jeans. My cock sprang free, harder than it had ever been. "I've wanted this since the first time this dick got hard. Every time you walked around in those little shorts, or when you'd hug me and I'd feel your tits against my chest. You drove me crazy, Mom." I ran my hand up and down the length of my dick. “And hearing you fuck your boyfriends? God, I came with you so many times.”

I lifted Mom out of the box. Cut the bindings on her legs and shoved them open. As I’d dreamed of, she tried to force them closed. I grabbed behind her knees and lifted them, cutting away her running shorts and panties. Shoved her knees back against the floor of the cabin and inhaled the scent of my mother’s dry pussy.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I told her. “Don’t look away. I want to remember my mother’s face the first time I raped her.”

The head of my cock rubbed against her pussy lips. Crying, Mom tried to struggle. Even if she wasn’t half-bound and starved, I was stronger than her. This just made her struggles feebler. More enjoyable to overcome with so little effort. Mom's eyes widened in horror as she realized what was about to happen.

"Please, Chris," she begged, her voice cracking. "Don't do this. You need help. This isn't you."

"This is exactly who I am," I replied, staring into her face. I leaned down and inhaled the scent of her pussy, letting her hear how much I enjoyed it. "And now you're going to know me completely."

I spit on her pussy. Rubbed my cock against the wet spot. Angled the head of my cock downwards, towards the channel of my mother’s pussy. Savoring the conquest, I watched my tip disappear inside Mom.

"You’re my son! My baby boy!" she cried. "How can you do this to me?"

I paused, looking down at her tear-streaked face. Her blonde hair was matted with sweat, her beautiful features twisted in fear and disgust. For a brief moment, something like doubt flickered through me. Then I thrust forward, burying myself inside her.

Mom screamed. A raw, broken sound that echoed through the cabin. The dry friction burned, but I didn't care. I was finally where I'd always wanted to be. Inside my mother.

"Fuck," I groaned, beginning to pump. "Even better than I imagined."

Her body went rigid beneath me, her eyes vacant as she stared at the ceiling. She'd retreated somewhere inside herself, trying to escape what was happening. I slapped her face to bring her back to me.

"Look at me," I demanded, grabbing her chin and forcing her face toward mine. "I want you to see who's fucking you."

Mom's eyes met mine, and what I saw there wasn't fear anymore. It was something colder. Something that made my rhythm falter for just a second.

"You're not my son," she whispered. "My son would never do this."

My hand smacked hard against her face. "I am your son. And now I'm your owner."

I took Mom slowly. Ground the head of my cock against her cervix. Slid it all the way back until her dry hole winked at me. I spit on it again and pushed back into Mom’s pussy.

“Now I see how you kept those boyfriends,” I moaned. “Damn, Mom. This is the best pussy I’ve ever had wrapped around my dick.”

Another stroke all the way out. More spit. All the way until I bottomed out.

“Do you feel that, Mom? Do you feel how big your son’s dick is?” Angry, hurt eyes stared up at me. Her lips quivered. “Yeah, you feel it. You feel your son all the way in your pussy. I fill it up completely.”

I fucked her slow. Savored the pain in her eyes. The tears that came and went as she fought to be passive. I released her legs so I could rest my weight on her. Stared into my mother’s eyes from an inch away as my hips pumped my cock into her.

“Tell me you love me,” I whispered. “Tell me you love me while I rape you.”

“I…” Mom’s voice quivered and faded. Returned as a sob. “I love you, Chris. Please, don’t do this to me. Please. I’m your mother.”

My lips touched her throat. She trembled as I sucked at her flesh. Nibbled my way to her ear.

“I love you, Mom,” I whispered. “That’s why I’m fucking you. You need a man that will never leave you. A man who will make you his and no one else’s. A man who will make you obey him from love.”

“Stop. Just stop.” She sobbed. “Finish with me, please. Just do it and be done with it.”

I pushed up to watch her face as I raped her. Smiled at her as my cock stroked the walls of her pussy. My hips rolled, grinding against her clit until she tightened around me.

“Feels good when your son fucks you,” I observed. I did it again to get the same result. “You must like my cock in you, Mom. I can feel your pussy getting wet.”

“That’s a lie!” she sobbed. “My… I’m not…”

My hips jammed forward, knocking the breath from her. I stared into her eyes. Drew back and inhaled the fresh scent of my mother’s pussy.

“Don’t lie,” I said. “Tell me the truth. Tell me your pussy is wet from being fucked by your son.”

Mom's face twisted in a grimace, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears welled up and overflowed, tracing glistening paths down her face. Her shoulders shuddered involuntarily, a conflicting response to the unwanted touch, as her thoughts screamed in protest.

"I hate you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "What you've done to me..."

I laughed, the sound echoing in the cabin's wooden walls. "Hate me all you want, but your body knows what it needs." I ground against her again, feeling her involuntary response. "And right now, it needs your son's cock."

Her wrists strained against the rope as I picked up my pace. The friction had eased, her body's natural lubrication making my thrusts smoother. I watched her face for every reaction, memorizing how her breath caught when I hit a certain spot, how her jaw clenched when she tried to fight her body's responses.

"I'm going to come inside you," I told her, my voice strained with effort. "Going to fill my mother's pussy with my seed."

"No!" Mom cried out, desperation in her voice. "Please, not that. Don't come inside me!"

Her panic only drove me closer to the edge. I grabbed her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes widen with fear. My balls slapped against her ass as her pussy seeped hot juice.

"This is what I've dreamed about for years," I panted. "Watching your face when I empty my balls in you."

My hips slammed against hers in a brutal rhythm. Mom's eyes never left mine, filled with a mixture of horror and resignation. When I felt my balls tighten, I made sure she knew what was happening.

"Here it comes, Mom," I groaned. "Take your son's cum."

I erupted inside her, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into her womb. The intensity of the orgasm nearly blinded me, spots dancing in my vision as years of fantasy culminated in this moment. Mom turned her face away, sobbing quietly as I finished.

When I finally pulled out, a trickle of cum followed, leaking from her abused pussy. I sat back on my heels, admiring my handiwork. Slid my finger back inside her, lubed by my own cum. Found her G-spot as my thumb scrubbed at her clit.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” I told her. “I’ll make sure you come, too.”

“No! No!” Mom shook her head. “Please, no!”

A second finger pushed into her pussy. If my cum wasn’t dripping out of her, I would have eaten Mom’s pussy. At least sucked her clit. I shoved a third finger into her, feeling her tighten as I probed her spot.

“Come for me,” I said. “Come for the son that raped you.”

Mom panted, her eyes closed. I slapped her thigh to make her look at me. My fingers dug into her flesh as I fingered her pussy.

“Come on, Mom. Let it happen. I feel your pussy trembling.” I fingered her faster. “Look at me when you come, Mom.”

Mom whimpered. Her back arched. Mouth dropped open. Convulsions rocked her body, her pussy pulsing so hard that it rolled her belly. And she stared at me while she came for me. Unflinchingly met the eyes of the son who had fucked her and come inside her.

Laughing at her shame, I pulled my fingers out of Mom’s pussy and cleaned them in her hair. Looking down at her, I relaxed my bladder. Let the stream of my piss paint my mother’s skin.

“Gotta mark my property,” I told her. Then, turning towards the stairs, I called over my shoulder. “I’ll be back for more fun later. Maybe I’ll clean the shit off your ass if you ask to suck my cock.”

Chapter 5

Mom was laying in the same spot when I came back down to the basement a few hours later. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment. Overcome with shame, she looked away, her face flushing. She rolled onto her belly to hide her tits from me. A wave of stench rolled off of her, and I was glad I put a drain in the basement. She needed to be hosed down.

“You smell like shit,” I told her. “How many times did you shit yourself while I had you in that box? Nah, doesn’t matter. What you need to remember is that I can put you back in whenever I want. No one knows you’re up here. No one is looking for you. You’re just going to live up here as my precious fucktoy.”

“I’m your mother!”

I turned on the spigot for the hose and opened the spray nozzle. Mom squealed as the icy water blasted her back. I aimed for her heart-shaped ass, knocking away flecks of dried shit. Lying still, Mom buried her face against the concrete floor.

"Turn over," I commanded, nudging her with my foot. "I need to clean your front too."

Mom didn't move. She lay there, trembling, her face pressed against the cold concrete. I grabbed her shoulder and roughly flipped her onto her back. The water stream hit her stomach, causing her to gasp and curl up instinctively. Taking the knife from the sheath on my belt, I sliced away the ropes that held her hands together.

"Spread out," I ordered. "Arms and legs. Let me see all of you."

Slowly, reluctantly, she uncurled and stretched out her limbs. I sprayed her down methodically, watching as the water ran in rivulets between her breasts and down her thighs, carrying away days of filth. When I reached her pussy, I slowed the spray, watching her face contort with humiliation.

"Does that feel good?" I asked, moving the stream directly against her clit. "Getting all clean for your son?"

"Please stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

I turned off the hose and tossed a bar of soap onto her stomach. "Clean yourself properly. I want to watch."

Mom's hands shook as she took the soap. She began washing herself, her movements slow and mechanical, like she was trying to disconnect from what was happening. I sat on an old wooden chair, watching her every move, my cock hardening again as she ran soapy hands over her breasts.

"That's it," I encouraged. "Make them nice and clean for me."

Tears mixed with the water on her face as she continued washing. When she reached between her legs, she hesitated, her eyes flicking toward mine. Shame darkened her face as she looked away quickly.

"Go on," I said. "Clean your son’s cum out of you."

Her face crumpled as she washed between her legs, trying to be quick about it. I shook my head. Gave her a disapproving sound that would make any dog slink to the ground.

"Slower. Do it right."

Mom closed her eyes and did as instructed, her fingers trembling as they cleaned her intimate areas. When she finished, I turned the hose back on and rinsed her off. The water was still cold, and she shivered violently as I sprayed her from head to toe.

"There," I said, turning off the water. "Now you're clean enough to touch."

I threw her a thin towel. She caught it and quickly wrapped it around herself, desperate for any covering. It wasn’t quite big enough to go all the way around. I watched her twist around and get on her knees, holding the towel in front of her tits.

"Thank you," she murmured, the words automatic, conditioned by years of politeness.

I laughed. "You're thanking me? That's a good start." I approached her, reaching out to stroke her wet hair. She flinched but didn't pull away. "See? You're learning already."

I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. "I've been thinking about what to do with you. At first, I thought I'd just keep you down here as my personal fucktoy. But that seems wasteful."

Hope flickered in her eyes. "You're letting me go?"

"No, of course not. Don’t be stupid.” I chuckled, stroking the side of her face. "I'm going to train you. Make you into the perfect little mother-whore. You're going to learn to love serving me."

Mom's face hardened, a flash of defiance breaking through her fear. "I will never—"

My hand cracked across her cheek before she could finish. The sound echoed through the basement, followed by her startled cry. I grabbed a handful of her wet hair, yanking her head back.

"You don't tell me what you will or won't do," I hissed. "You're mine now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be." I released her hair and stood up, unbuckling my belt. "Now, ...