The Abuser and the Bitch… no, Mother and Son

It wasn’t like Jessica annoyed me—no, of course I loved her—but sometimes her way of arguing when everything was already obvious just drove me insane. Still, I always knew how to steer the conversation so she'd think she was winning, while actually ending up exactly where I wanted her. It was even kind of funny—watching her scoff, roll her eyes, throw out some snark—but in the end, do exactly what I wanted.

– Jess, I’m just saying you could dress a little more modestly, – I began gently, almost fatherly, reaching across the table to adjust the collar of her way-too-revealing dress. She wore it again—almost like on purpose—to draw attention. – You know I worry about you. Guys these days... they’re not the kind you can trust.

She instantly raised her brow, giving me that special kind of smile that both stung and amused me, and while slowly stirring sugar into her cappuccino, said with that bitchy little look and fake gratitude:

– Yes, mommy dearest, of course you’re right. I’ll definitely keep your wise motherly advice in mind next time I pick out an outfit.

The last thing I saw was a quick flash, like a sudden glare of sunlight bouncing off a window, and then it was like the café vanished for a moment. And after that—silence and… a strange new sensation.

Something pulled hard downward from my chest, so hard I had to look down—and saw two round, heavy mounds stuffed into a stupid pink sweater with the words “Best Mom Ever” printed on it. I couldn’t even see my own feet underneath them. God, they were just massive and so heavy. I could feel the bra straps digging into my shoulders and under my arms, tight and uncomfortable. I shifted my legs under the table, feeling the smooth slide of a skirt brushing against my knees and calves—a strange, soft sensation that sent a chill of unease and disbelief down my spine.

– What… what the fuck, mom? – said someone across from me, where Jessica should have been sitting. But judging by the voice, it wasn’t her. And when I lifted my face—cursing the long hair that now fell into my eyes and tangled in earrings—I saw a confused teenage boy, maybe sixteen, staring at me with my own painfully familiar eyes.

– Jason, – the name slipped out of me automatically, and I was instantly startled by my voice—soft, warm, slightly husky with exhaustion and concern, yet full of authority. – What the… is that you?

He suddenly flinched, like I had just scolded him, though I’d only said his name. A name that sounded so familiar and dear to me, even though I knew it wasn’t right, because he was supposed to be Jessica.

– Mom, – he said again, covering his mouth with his hand, – Shit, why can’t I call you by your name, Ca… Kathleen?

I winced at that name, especially hearing it from him, like Jason was trying to get under my skin, though I knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Still, why Kathleen? Did Kevin really turn into that?

– Jason, stop! I’m not your little friend for you to call me by name, – I snapped, surprised at how naturally it came out, like muscle memory. My voice was soft and low, full of authority and irritation all at once, and the sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. But I couldn’t stop: – I don’t understand what’s going on, but you really need to calm down.

– Me?! – he blurted, lifting his eyes that had been awkwardly staring at his hands. – I need to calm down? Have you even seen yourself? You… this is fucking insane!

I let out a breath, and the deep inhale immediately reminded me of my breasts—these unbearably heavy things I now felt every second. The tight bra straps dug into my shoulders and armpits, as if trying to hammer in even harder what I looked like now. I irritably adjusted them with my fingers, feeling the edge of lace under the thin sweater and shuddering from how natural that motion felt with these new hands—long, slender, graceful, with neat oval nails painted in a color that made everything feel even more surreal.

– I can see myself just fine, – I hissed through my teeth, brushing away the strands of blond hair that kept sticking to my tense cheeks, the earrings swaying and brushing against my skin. – And you better watch your mouth. I… I don’t know how this happened, but we clearly need to do something.

He leaned back, slumping against the chair as his eyes drifted into space. Before, I would’ve smirked seeing Jessica so helpless—but now my heart tightened, feeling a strange mix of irritation and tenderness for this teenager who looked so vulnerable. His shoulders, once always held proud, were slouched, and his lips—those lips that used to smirk so sharply—trembled with unfamiliar insecurity.

– So I’m Jason, – he finally said slowly, like tasting the name. – And I’m your son, and you’re my mom… Kathleen?

He tripped over the name again, like the word itself resisted being said, refusing to fit into this new reality. I felt a lump in my throat and said softly:

– Just Mom, please. Let’s not make it more complicated than it already is.

We fell silent, avoiding each other’s eyes, like we were afraid to see confirmation of something irreversible. The whole thing felt so strange. We should have been panicking, looking for answers, but instead, we both felt it—though neither of us wanted to admit it—that somehow, this felt… right. Like our relationship had finally become what it was always supposed to be.