Quarantined
Bruce looked down at the dish in front of him with utter bafflement. He was sitting at the table in his kitchen, he knew that, but everything else seemed… off. He looked at the bat floating in the watery soup in front of him and tried to figure out what was wrong.
‘Don’t want it, honey?’ his mom asked.
He looked across the table to where she was sitting, trying to find the words to explain the problem, but the sight of his mother made it worse. She was naked except for a black bra that resembled a large bat clinging to her curvy body, it’s leathery wings squeezing her large breasts together.
‘It’s… a bat,’ he tried to say but the words came out jumbled and confused.
‘You'll love it!’ she insisted, leaning over and taking a spoonful of soup and pushing it towards his mouth.
Bruce tried to fight it but the soup was pushed into his mouth and immediately he felt nausea overcome him. He wanted to puke but could only manage a few dry wretches. His mother frowned deeply at him and stood up from the table. Bruce saw her underwear now and was momentarily relieved to see that there was no other bat holding onto her. Instead, she was wearing plain black panties that strained under the effort of containing her plentiful ass. In the middle, however, directly over the slight bulge of her vulva, was a white cockerel. Bruce recognised it at once and another wave of nausea overcame him, mixed with a strong dose of shame too.
Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open and a naked boy walked in, a massive pink penis swinging between his knees. Bruce recognised him at once as Brock, the biggest kid at school and Bruce’s personal tormentor. The short, lean blonde boy that already seemed most of the way to manhood, swaggered over to Bruce’s mom and grabbed a fistful of her black hair. He forced her to her knees and slapped across the face with his swollen cock.
‘Eat the bat, chink,’ he said, pushing his enormous member down the mother’s throat until she has somehow consumed it’s entire length. He looked down at her as he pushed his cock deeper into her, then said to her, ‘You like that, Anne? You like eating white cocks?’
Bruce’s mom gagged loudly and began to twitch as she choked on the length of meat now fully lodged inside her. As Brock’s cock slipped inside her, Bruce felt the bat soup slide down his throat too. He wanted to vomit but couldn’t. He wanted to spit the soup out but couldn’t. He wanted to jump up and push Brock away, but couldn’t. His mother’s eyes had rolled into the back of her head now and thick, white slime was oozing from her mouth, onto her breasts. Bruce looked down at his soup and into the dead eyes of the bat. Suddenly, it came to life and erupted from the bowl…
Bruce shot out of bed, instantly awake and alert, looking around his bedroom for the bat that had returned from the dead. He looked around frantically before, in pieces, reality came back to him.
A dream…, he thought. Just a nightmare.
The small Asian boy sighed in relief and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. He felt something warm and wet under the covers of his bed and grabbed his glasses and asthma inhaler from his bedside table. After a puff of medicine to calm his irritated lungs, and with his glasses now on, he looked under the covers and saw the damp spot between his legs, staining his pyjamas. His cock was still flushed and half-hard, but now spent and quickly shrinking.
Fuck, he thought.
Shame rushed up his face as he realised what had happened. This wasn’t the first time he had been driven to orgasm by dreams of his own beautiful mother being taken from him by a boy his own age. Brock was a usual feature of these dreams and almost always ended up degrading his mother in some way while Bruce watched helplessly. Bruce sighed heavily and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom.
Now with the evidence of his nighttime shame washed away, Bruce dressed himself for school, choosing to wear his usual outfit of plain clothes. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself and that was reflected in his clothing choices. He wanted to be ignored, which he was by most people, except for the small group of tormentors. He was used to it by now and while the school day still brought dread to him, he took comfort knowing that today would be the last one for a while. For all the bad things that the Wuhan Flu had brought, it had also brought a plethora of positives. A very dark cloud with a thick silver lining, part of which was that Bruce’s school was shutting down and switching to home classes for the foreseeable future. No more racist white bullies. No more Brock. That made Bruce smile.
He opened the door out of his bedroom and was surprised to see his mother standing in the hallway that connected her bedroom to his, attaching something to the wall. She was, thankfully, not dressed in a bat bikini or racey underwear, but instead in her usual home clothes: expensive, black leggings and a loose singlet top. Bruce couldn’t help but quickly glance at how the legging material was stretched by the width of her ass. She had to wear expensive spandex because the cheaper stuff became see-through when it was stretched, meaning anyone walking behind her would know exactly what kind of underwear she was wearing. That was a lesson she had learned the hard way when she had decided to wear a particularly exotic g-string, a gift from her then-boyfriend, and had spent the day wondering why she was turning so many heads. She was already a headturner, being a former model for various sporting franchises, but even she noticed the sudden uptick in attention.
Bruce was fully aware that his mom was… ditzy, to say the least. He remembered something her last boyfriend had called her: Hotter than the sun, but nearly as bright. That was, sadly, completely true. As a Filipina, Anne was a mix of cultures, Spanish, Chinese, Tagalog, Indonesian… All of which had combined, in her, to produce something truly impressive. She was short, at only 5’2”, but her body was all curves. While her face was distinctly Asian, with soft features, sharp eyes, and a general aire of Orientalism, her body was European; a gift from the Spaniards who had conquered her homeland in centuries passed and left their seed in many bloodlines. Her breasts, by far her most impressive feature, were firm and plentiful. Her ass was good enough to star in a rap video, but without the disgusting cellulite that seemed so common on ghetto bootys.
As testament to its quality, hardly a week went by when a black man wouldn’t try his luck with her, only to be inevitably rebuffed. Anne had very specific tastes in men and, as long as Bruce had been alive, had never deviated from that. Bruce knew that his mom only dated white men. She didn’t give men of any other race so much as a second look, which was a strange sore point in Bruce’s life considering that he wasn’t even half-white. His father had been Chinese. Anne had explained the situation that had led to his birth. When she was young and still living in Manila, her family had arranged for her to marry a Chinese businessman who had American citizenship. He was nearly 15 years older than her, but being a good daughter, she had obeyed and married the man. Bruce had been born in the United States a few years later. When he was five, a sudden heart attack had killed his father and left his mother all his wealth, as well as US citizenship. She had quickly gone about re-inventing herself. She landed a modelling gig that quickly led to more, better gigs. She carefully invested her money in stocks and businesses, so even when she retired from modelling at age 34, she was still generating a comfortable income. She had a string of boyfriends, all of them white, which she brought to the house regularly. Bruce got used to hearing the noises that came from her bedroom late at night and seeing men at the breakfast table the next morning.
‘Morning, mom,’ he said, shaking the thoughts from his head. ‘What are you doing?’
Anne looked up and smiled at him. ‘I’m setting up a divider,’ she said. ‘Because of the outbreak. I was told it would help keep the flow of germs to a minimum’.
Bruce didn’t feel like pointing out that all the divider did was make it harder for them to move around the house and did nothing to stop transmission of COVID-19, but decided this wasn’t a conversation worth having. His mom seemed painfully gullible when it came to anything regarding the virus. He walked over to give her a good morning hug, but she backed away.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, confused and a little hurt.
‘We’re meant to keep close contact to a minimum,’ she said. ‘That means no hugs or kisses for a while, ok?’
Bruce felt his spirits drop a little. His mother’s affection was something he valued and to have it nonsensically taken from him like this was more than a little frustrating. But he accepted it and walked away. He had to leave soon…
