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It’s been just under two years since Ghost received her honorable medical discharge. Johnny had followed six weeks after her, failing a psych eval just like his mumma had and following in her footsteps. It had taken some wiggling, some logistics, some finagling, but finally, finally, Johnny was right where he belonged, home safe with his mumma where she could take care of him.
Right after her discharge, she’d moved to a small cottage in the middle of absolute nowhere. Sure, she had neighbors, would even wave to them occasionally, but none of them knew anything about her besides her existence. She was just the big, burly blonde butch next door who was a veteran and kept mostly to herself, only coming outside to tend the garden and fetch the mail.
Things were different when Johnny finally showed up. He introduced himself to the neighbors as her son on that first day, giving them a megawatt smile, talkin’ about how great it is that he’s finally able to spend more time with his mum, since work had kept them apart for so long.
Simone rode him hard enough to bruise that night, a hand on Johnny’s throat, tits dangling in his face, nipples wet with his saliva. “Who am I, Johnny?” She’d panted as she’d edged closer and closer to orgasm, “Tell me. Tell me who’s fuckin’ you so good.”
“Mumma,” Johnny whined, messily sucking her tit back into his mouth and bucking his hips as he spilled inside her, “Mumma!”
She squirted for the first time in half a decade that night, and made Johnny clean her up with his tongue like a good boy.
On the outside, to their neighbors, they’re just the mother and her adult son that live next door. They’re both a little weird, sure, but nothing too bizarre. Johnny cuts the grass, trims the hedges, brings in the groceries for his mum, a dutiful, doting son during the day, and he also cries on her strap, lets mumma ride his face, fucks her until they’re both unconscious at night.
Johnny’s also slowly becoming more dependent on Simone. She’s elated. He lets her cook for him, choose what clothes he wears, wash him in the shower when they’re together (though truthfully very little washing actually gets done whenever they’re in the shower together). He’s not like a baby, not like a child, still very much an adult, her boy, but he understands, deep in his mind, that mummy knows best.
Simone gets the last say in everything. Johnny doesn’t have to think about anything if he doesn’t want to, just has to focus on being mumma’s good boy.
It hadn’t always been easy. Johnny fought her furiously at first. There had been many, many spankings those first few months, back when Johnny tried to use his brain for things he didn’t need to use it for, back when he tried to go against mumma’s wishes and do what he pleased. His arse was almost always a lovely shade of purple, bruised and sore, and he would come crying to mumma after every spanking, as if he hadn’t damn well earned it, and Ghost would shush him and rub cream into his sore behind, reminding him that she wouldn’t have to do this if he wasn’t such a brat.
It’s a lie, of course. Simone finds reasons to give Soap a good spanking even now, when Johnny’s been nothing but her good boy for months, watching the fat of his arse bounce with every strike and taking great joy in kissing the tears off her boy’s face. He gets all cuddly and mewly after a good beating, so apologetic even when he’s done nothing wrong, but mumma knows best, of course, so if she says he’s done something to deserve a spanking, he just throws himself over her lap and lets her do what she wants.
Price comes to visit every so often, sometimes with Nik, sometimes without. She knows he’s worried about them, worries that Simone’s demons will come back to haunt her, that she’ll take herself out and take Johnny with her, and it’s not an unlikely scenario, her sanity was questionable even before wanting both to fuck Johnny and be his mummy, but she’s kept herself in check, going to all her court-mandated therapy sessions and taking up deer hunting as a way to blow off steam that doesn’t involve cracking human skulls.
The blood soothes something dark in her. She…chooses not to look too deep into that.
Still, it’s good to see Price whenever he visits. He doesn’t know all the finer details of her and Johnny’s relationship, but is polite enough not to question it when Johnny casually refers to her as “mum” when asking if she wants honey in her tea or if she wants mayo on her sandwich.
“I take care of him,” is all Simone says when Nik finally asks about it on one of their visits, blowing on the steaming cup of tea Johnny had made for her, wrapping an arm around her boy when he sits next to her on the sofa. “Make sure he eats all his dinner, goes to his appointments and everything.”
“You are also, ah,” Nik says awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and setting his cup of coffee on the table in front of him, “having sex with him, no?”
“Bloody hell, Nikolai, of course she is,” Price says, but Simone just laughs.
“Yeah, I am. What of it?”
Johnny wisely keeps his mouth shut. Nik flounders for a moment, clearly stuck between saying something dumb and saying something absolutely, incomprehensibly stupid, but then just mutters something vaguely rude-sounding in Russian and reaches for his coffee, knocking back half of it to avoid any further conversation about Johnny and Simone’s questionable relationship.
Simone lets Price give her an awkward hug before he and Nik leave, and watches the car pull out of the driveway and down the road, kicking up dust behind it.
“How much longer y’reckon they’ve got before they’re found out?” Johnny asks, nuzzling his face into Simone’s shoulder and staring out the front window with one eye.
“Pfft. A year if they’re lucky, but Price’ll retire before then if he’s smart. He’s getting fuckin’ old. It’s a miracle they haven’t been found out already. I had half a mind to turn them in when Price served me discharge paperwork, but it wasn’t worth it.”
“But you miss it, don’t you, mumma?”
“Not when you were the best part of it, and I’ve got you right here with me.” She feels Johnny’s sharp exhale, the way his cock twitches against her arse, and smiles.
Ghost does miss the military, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t, but she’s more than happy here with Johnny at her side. She hadn’t been lying when she said he was the best part of it.
Later, she’ll let Johnny pick out which dildo she fucks him with. She’ll listen to him scream and whine for her, come without ever laying a hand on his cock, smile every time he says “mumma.” Simone knows it can’t last forever. She may be a bad, bad woman, but she’s not stupid. There’s the better part of two decades between her and Johnny. She’ll be forty-two in less than two months, and Johnny’s not yet twenty-six. Even outside the filthy claws of the UK’s armed forces, she’s going to die before him. That’s just how life works, time slipping through the cracks like water. One day, you’re freshly eighteen, selling your soul to the military and the next you’re on the wrong side of forty with chronic backaches and five extra kilos that just won’t go away.
Still, she’s going to enjoy it while she has it. She’s made sure, through months of careful conditioning, that Johnny can’t live without her. Even if he gets bored of her (which is doubtful, given the way he goes mad at the sight of Ghost’s drooping tits and granny knickers), he can’t leave, not when mumma is the one to make all his decisions for him. Sure, he can cut the grass, trim the hedges, and bring in the groceries, but beyond that?
Johnny’s nothing without his mummy, and Simone wouldn’t have it any other way. She’ll take Johnny with her to the grave if she has to, because she’s a good mumma, a good mumma, a very good mumma.