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With nearly half a million subscribers on YouTube and about two-hundred thousand on Patreon, Cassie’s movie reaction channel “Tearjerkers & More” was no small success. People seemed to thoroughly enjoy her ditzy-brained sheltered-childhood melodramatic reactions to everything from powerful war dramas to sappy rom-coms with an occasional sad scene.
Hank enjoyed them, too. But for…different reasons.
The 12-year-old boy had grown attracted to his own mother as early as ten, but it wasn’t until lately that his boners really felt good, and his deviant mind was taking control. Single since her son was two, it was no wonder Cassie was so sensitive when it came to hackneyed romances. It was also no wonder that she was so lenient with Hank, babying him after all these years, homeschooling him so that he wouldn’t develop a social life and spend more time with friends than her.
This was all about to backfire, though.
Cassie saw the signs, but her priorities were the channel. It was their livelihood, after all. She was too committed to providing good content, to never miss a beat for her fans, to be authentic in her reactions. But only in reacting to whatever movie was on the screen; not to her surroundings, nor her son. This was proven three years ago when a dog she was looking after for a friend shit beside her bed, in which she recorded her reactions, during a live stream; she had not batted an eye at it, although the stink probably affected her expressions as she watched Saving Private Ryan for the first time. And then, a year later, her cat vomited at the foot of her bed while she watched The Prestige for the first time. Once more, Cassie never acknowledged it, and only provided a passing update that the cat had run away a few months later.
As of six weeks ago, Hank sat with her during non-R-rated movie reactions. No matter the genre. He always seemed unaffected by dramatic moments, especially compared to her, and at times even mocked them. This jarred half of her fanbase, but her male viewers who didn’t constantly white-knight the situation, demanded Hank become a recurring co-host.
So, no matter what, she was committed to keeping him on.
Additionally, she felt an implicit pressure from her viewers to exhibit compassionate parenting and never punish or ridicule her son.
The first indication of his perversion that she didn’t acknowledge occurred two nights ago, before dinner. Like usual, these last couple of years, Cassie almost always looked tired. She didn’t get a ton of sleep, in between recording and producing reactions, while taking care of Hank. If she wasn’t a single mother of a preteen boy, albeit homeschooled, she could hire a professional producer; but, as successful as Tearjerkers & More was, she relished every dime—putting it all to good use. Including a small fund toward Hank’s future.
“I’m so proud of you and your channel, Mommy,” Hank said, standing to her right. Cassie was seated at the table, warm food steaming. It would be good to sit for another minute or two; she didn’t rush it.
She had not expected him to hijack her phone and start a live-stream straight to her Instagram.
“You’re so sweet,” she smiled, looking up at him. She was telling the truth; however, a small part of her dreaded what might happen next.
Unlike most popular female movie reactors, Cassie never dolled herself up or wore revealing attire for her content. She was an undeniably pretty face, with a relatively fit body, but not prominent curves. Still, she felt so blindsided by this video, so unprepared. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt, with all five buttons fastened, albeit several inches down her chest. Cassie seldom wore a bra; she barely had C-cups, but their size was irrelevant to Hank. He was 12; boobs were boobs. But that they were his mom’s boobs made them even better.
Apart from some mascara and lip gloss, Cassie never painted herself with makeup, either. Tonight, though, she wasn’t wearing an iota of cosmetics. To Hank, she wore her fatigue beautifully; dark bags under her eyes seemed to complement her brown eyebrows, contrasting her deep blue irises and vibrant blonde hair, the latter pulled back into a lazy ponytail.
“Close your eyes, I have a gift for you,” he said, still filming her.
She did, sitting up straight, a smile surviving on her face.
Enabling hands-free mode for the live stream, Hank propped the phone up against her big glass of iced tea so that it continued to record Cassie from the front. Then he leaned in, and his right hand clutched her skinny throat, while his left seized the base of her ponytail in a fist.
“Keep your eyes shut, Mommy,” he whispered, seeing her smile vanish and her brow crease. His lips brushed her forehead, and although imperceptible to the camera, his clothed erection pressed into her right arm. He began kissing her face, from her right eyelid to the bridge of her nose, and then the right corner of her mouth. His lips retreated to her ear, and he turned his head slightly so the camera could not catch what he whispered. “God, you’re so pretty. You’d make even more of a fortune on OnlyFans.”
Then he planted a final wet kiss on her right cheek, his hand squeezing her throat slightly, before pulling away.
“Just to show how much I love and appreciate you, a mastermind of creativity and originality,” Hank announced at regular volume.
He knew her male viewers, even the bullshit white-knights, would fully support his position as co-host now. And many of the women, the morons anyway, would as well.
So Cassie opened her eyes and smiled up at him.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you so much.”
Hank smiled, scooped up the camera, and ended the stream but did not show her he had. He then set the phone down with the camera side up, however on the far side of his plate, out of her reach. He knew his self-absorbed, paranoid mom too well. Her fixation on public image, on being a good mother, and on sentimentality. Love over anger.
Sure enough, Cassie feared that Hank did not, in fact, end the live stream; and although the phone camera was presently pointed at the ceiling, the audio was still active. She even glimpsed her son’s tented shorts as he approached her again. She didn’t need to smile at him, but her commitment to everything became more than just a farce; she had to truly believe in it, to exercise it.
“That was very kind of you, Hankie. I’m so grateful.”
Hank stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. He bowed his head and nuzzled the left side of her face with hers, then began kissing her neck. He adjusted her hair to ensure he was getting only skin. His right hand snaked down her chest, his index, middle, and ring finger descending below the topmost button, to each knuckle.
“So, um, is my baby boy hungry?”
Hank’s mouth lifted to kiss the corner of her right eyebrow. His words were quiet and wet; inaudible to the phone. Clear as blue skies to Cassie.
“You have no idea,” he whispered, and then licked his mom’s face from the left side of her chin to the top of her forehead. She felt the head of his thinly clothed boner prod her left breast, while his left hand snagged the vertical button arrangement on her top, and with a jerk of his wrist unfastened the top three. More skin. Boobs too small to produce cleavage, especially sans bra.
Cassie’s reaction was a no-smile pout. She didn’t know what to say.
“Close your pretty, tired eyes…one more time, Mommy.” His whisper was, once again, too quiet for the phone.
Apprehensively, Cassie complied. Meanwhile, her son resisted the urge to jerk off onto her face. Instead he unpocketed his own phone, recorded a for-now private video, and licked her from chin to forehead, this time right up the center of her face, leaving a fresh trail of visible saliva. When he stood up straight, and he was sure to catch this on video as well, his clothed erection prodded her left breast, moving it slightly behind the black fabric.
Then he ended the video, dropped his phone into a pocket, and walked behind her. He paused to grip her shoulder and lower his mouth to her right ear again.
“I love you. And I truly am proud of you.”
She took a deep breath and mustered a small smile. His hand glided down her chest once more, before he withdrew completely. She knew full-well that he could have torn her shirt open and groped her breasts willy-nilly, or done something far more obscene with his penis, and her face, but he had not. This wouldn’t go unnoticed in her thankfulness.
Finally, Hank returned to his seat, and her eyes opened. They began dinner. Cassie left her shirt partially unbuttoned, and her face still somewhat sticky-wet, as well as her neck. He kept her phone on the right side of his plate, and didn’t surrender it until hours later, when they went to bed.
She had to literally sneak into his room to get it from his nightstand after he had fallen asleep.
To her shock, the reactions to the live stream were all wholly positive. But, much to her dismay, Hank had proven cleverer than she could’ve anticipated. He had ended the first part of the pre-dinner Instagram stream after she said “you’re so sweet,” following his initial compliment; then he began recording again, right after the intimate face contact, albeit with the camera directed at her hands and plate, when he said “a mastermind of creativity and originality.”
People’s reactions included “omg, he’s so cute, he must’ve accidentally cut off the recording” and “we were wrong about Hankie, he’s a definite keeper!”
There wasn’t a single bad thing said about him.
He had sowed his place by her side, and cemented her as an envied mother.