Currently writing: The Cursed Sketchbook

 The Cursed Sketchbook

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Tayson Wainwright’s mother Madyson always seemed mad at him. Whether it was his grades suffering because his head was in the clouds during class, his social standing, or lack thereof, because he was seen as the “weird kid” by her friends and their own children, or just the fact that he liked to draw monsters, aliens, and demons from his movies, comics, and video games instead of doing normal young adult things like play sports or chase girls, everything he did simply seemed to tick her off.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with him,” he overheard her say one day when she hosted friends for cocktails. “He simply seems to live in his own little world full of nasty creatures and things instead of in the here and now. I just don’t know, ladies!”

Her friends had chuckled. But all Tayson, creeping around a corner, had noticed was the disapproval in his mother’s voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, nor would it be the last. But, it was the first time his feelings mutated from disappointment to anger. That had been in early May, when she and other mothers from Woodsborough Academy were meeting to discuss throwing a party celebrating their children leaving middle school. And it began what would be a long, simmering summer for the both of them.

#

“I don’t get why I have to go,” Tayson told his mother.

Madyson folded her arms and huffed. “For one thing, it’s a pool party! Surely even you can enjoy that. Another thing is that going to be in your own backyard. And yet another, I practically had to beg the other mothers to host it here.”

“Why?” he asked while he kept staring at his burgeoning picture. “I don’t like any of my classmates, and they don’t like me.”
“Tayson, that’s what this is for. And it’s a chance for me to network as well.”

He put down his pencil and sighed. How many times had he tried to tell her he wasn’t interested? Not only that, but he needed something more, like he was being forced into an all-you-can-eat asian buffet when he was craving seafood. It was bad enough she was interrupting what was turning out to be a great drawing of a insect-dog monster, but interrupting him for something he didn’t need, let alone want?

“So it’s something for me that you want but I don’t,” he said. “I understand totally. Thanks, Mom.” He went back to sketching.

“Could you please look at me while I talk to you?” she said, not sounding like she meant the “please” part. She spun his chair around. He stared up at his statuesque mother as she glared down at him. Her icy blue eyes froze him solid as she brushed a knife sharp swath of her blonde bob out of her eyes. He did his best not to shrink into his seat beneath her gaze. Her thick lips were downturned in their usual disapproving pout.

“Now listen to me,” Madyson told him, “I put a lot of effort into getting this party thrown together and hosted at our home. It’s a chance for you to put your best food forward as you transition from middle to high school. What’s more, it reflects on me with the other mothers and parents, and I know you wouldn’t want your father and I to look poorly with them, would you?”

Just staring at her made him realize why some of the guys in his class would be at their party, which just made him want to go even less. He had her blonde hair, blue eyes, and even some of her thick full lips, but had his dad’s button nose and round chin, making him look perpetually babyfaced. Add on his giant glasses and that his hair was always an ungainly mop, and how the girls in his class surely saw him gave him yet another reason to not want to go.

But, he wanted to make her happy, even when she was mad at him, even when she made him mad for not giving him what he needed.

Tayson asked, “Can I just make an appearance and then head back in? Nobody will notice I’m even there.”

Madyson sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Tayson, for the love of god…”

The annoyed disappointment in her voice made him shrink further into his seat. But, being denied an understanding response made his cheeks burn.

“Yes, ma’am,” he begrudgingly groaned.

“Thank you,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning to go. “They’ll start arriving at noon. Be ready a half hour before.”
“Okay, Mom.”

She stopped at his doorway, turning back to face him. “And Tay?”

She paused and looked almost apologetic Was she actually going to relent?
She glanced at the sketchbook on his desk. “Put those abominations away, in case we show anybody the house.” With that, she left.

Tayson deflated like a punctured balloon then swiveled back around to his sketchbook. And here he thought he was nailing some new monsters spectacularly. The insect-dog had been inspired by the Resident Evil games and watching the old The Thing movie the night before. He flipped a page back to a scaly sort of lizard man he’d imagined a day before after seeing some Warhammer fantasy miniatures. Before that, xenomorphs from the Alien movies. He flipped back, page after page of creatures skulking, stalking, and crawling by. He reached the first page and shut the book.

Couldn’t she appreciate his artistic talent? She used to love to put his drawings up on the fridge when he was young. Now that he was about to turn 14 and enter high school, practically an adult, ever since he grew to like horror and sci-fi movies and games and comics, no matter how good his skills grew, she just looked at his sketchbook like it was covered in roaches.

Roaches, he thought. Not a bad idea. Have to come back to that. After the party… Ugh.

Dispirited from drawing, he left the sketchbook on his desk and decided to game until it was time to change for the party.

#

The early summer afternoon bathed the Wainwright household in seasonal warmth, with just a hint of a breeze keeping things cool. The air was rife with the smell of chlorine, sunscreen, and food and drinks. Madyson overlooked the swarm of advancing students and their parents as they talked, ate, drank, and of course, played in her massive pool. She herself lounged on a patio chair under the shade of a large navy umbrella, other mothers and fathers occupying the other seats, her husband and Tayson’s father Patrick beside her. She wore a white bikini underneath a blue mesh coverup mini dress, which, to her bemusement, attracted more than a little attention from the other fathers and a chunk of the growing boys.

Not among them was Tayson.

While Patrick told a joke making the others parents laugh, Madyson took a long drink from her glass of sangria wine. Where was Tayson? Couldn’t he see all the work she was putting into this for him? She was practically trying to lay the foundation for him now that he was leaving middle school and soon would be starting high school. Surely he was aware of how much she wanted him to have an easier time one he was a freshman, to cast off the chains of the “weird kid” label and make friends and find a girlfriend and all that? She loved that boy something fierce, but his reticence at making any sort of progress just drove her crazy!

“Where’s your own son?” one of the other mothers asked.

“Tayson?” Patrick said, setting his bottle of beer down. “Yes, where is the boy?”

Madyson forced a smile as she felt scrutinizing eyes on her. “I’m sure he’s just late coming out. Doesn’t want to brag about our home and pool and all that.”

“Modesty,” another mother said. “A wonderful trait. You must be so proud of him.”

“Oh, quite.”

Her eyes roamed over the noisy fracas in her carefully landscaped backyard, scanning for any shadowy corner, any shady tree, any area of the pool Tayson might be hiding in.

“Well, here he comes!” Patrick said.

She glanced around and found Tayson walking out of the back patio doors, blue gradating to white swimtrunks on underneath a white with blue flowers shirt open to his mid chest. She had picked it out for him and he loved wearing it when they traveled to tropical spots or went to the pools of friends of theirs. Well, friends of hers and Patrick’s. He glanced unsurely at his fellow summer-free students as they walked past, blushing at some of the girls in their swimsuits, as he approached her and Patrick.

“There he is!” Patrick said with enough of a slur in his voice to make Madyson wince. “What took you, son?”
Tayson rubbed his arm. “I was, uh, having a snack before I came out.”

Patrick patted him hard on the shoulder like he was a prized dog. “Well, we’re glad you’re here now.”
Madyson, already feeling slightly embarrassed for him, patted him gently on the back. “You look very handsome, Tayson,” she said.

The other mothers chimed in their agreements and his cheeks turned red beneath his glasses.

“Why don’t you grab a drink or a snack and go hang out with your classmates?” Madyson said.

Tayson eyed the long table full of snacks, from fresh fruit and nuts to candy and chips, and the iced coolers laden with sodas, juices, and waters. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, do that.”

Madyson watched him as he went over and made a plate for himself and grabbed a soda. Then, he glanced around, seemingly unsure of what to do. None of the other students seemed to notice him, or in fact seemed to actively avoid him.

C’mon, Tayson, Madyson thought. Just go up and talk to them. Find a group. It’s not that hard. Frustration for him and annoyance at his seeming ambivalence to all she’d put out primarily for him made her wince and pout.

She watched him walk around and stand awkwardly near and around other students for what felt like forever, occasionally laughing or nodding his head at something said, only for the others to either blithely accept his presence or outright ignore him. Was this what school was like for him? Surely it couldn’t have been that difficult?

Then, finally, another student walked up and began talking to him. Then another. Though, frankly, none of them seemed the cheerleader or football star type, Madyson was just glad he finally seemed to find people to talk to. She smiled and went to refill her sangria.

#

“Yo, cool house, Tayson,” said a student named Maddox.

Another, Amelia, said. “I can’t believe how big your pool is.”

The third who had approached Tayson, Jackson, said, “Thanks for having us over.”
While he wasn’t close with them and weren’t exactly the most popular kids in school, they’d always been friendly enough to Tayson, and he appreciated them coming to talk to him. “Thanks, guys! Though really, it was my mom’s idea to have it at our house.”

Maddox asked, “For real?”
“Why?” asked Amelia.

Tayson said, “I think she thinks it’ll help my popularity or whatever. Really, I think she just wanted to impress the other parents.”

Jackson said, “That’s kinda messed up.”

Tayson shrugged. “She’s always doing stuff like this. One time, she made us go on vacation with some friends of hers and their kids. I spent most of the time drawing by myself.”

“Those gross monsters you’re always drawing in class?” Amelia asked.

Tayson almost beamed at the possibility of attention, though he knew Amelia was gay and she did use the word “gross” to describe his art.

“Uh, yeah,” he said.

“They’re, uh, kinda cool.”
Jackson said, “Yeah, remind me of stuff out of the Resident Evil games.”

“Right!” Tayson said. “I love those games!”

Maddox asked, “Do you have a sweet game setup? Big TV and all that?”

“Well, I don’t really have a TV.”

“Oh.”

“No, I mean, I have a projector in my room. Fills up one whole wall.”

The others gasped in astonishment. They began asking him what he’d been playing lately and sharing their own gaming predilections. As they talked, Tayson noticed his mother smiling at him from across the yard. He smiled back at her.

#

“Tayson looks like he’s having a good time,” Patrick said.

Madyson said, “Finally,” and drank her wine. She eyed the other parents, who were watching their own kids play in the pool.

“Pardon me, Madyson,” a mother asked, “where is the bathroom?”

She answered, “There’s one in the pool house, but I can see there’s a line growing. If you’d like, I can show you the other nearest restroom and give you a quick tour of the house?”

The other parents agreed, and soon Madyson was showing them and a gaggle of young teenagers. After losing a few who quickly formed a line at the two nearest guest bathrooms on the first floor, Madyson took the rest on a guided tour of her proud home. After showing off the multimedia room and her and Patrick’s studies, one teenager asked, “Is there another bathroom on this floor?”
Madyson laughed. “Yes, it’s down the hall, just before Tayson’s room.”

A trio of boys shared mischievous looks and made down the hall.

“Now, if the rest of you will follow me,” Madyson said, “I’ll show you the rest of the house…”

#

Tayson had just finished his snacks and was about to take Maddox, Amelia, and Jackson up to his room to show them his gaming rig when he heard shrieks. The first came from the house. Then, another from the pool house. A third erupted from the pool itself. Tayson and the others spun their heads searching for the source of the commotion, and Tayson’s eyes bugged when he saw what it was.

It was his monsters, his drawings, his art, ripped out of his sketchbook and being used to scare girls by boys from his class.

“No, no, no!” he said as he ran to the closest ones by the house. He snatched the drawing of a bee monster out of the boy’s hand, distraught at it being ripped from the spiral binder and torn along the edges. Parents stared, students laughed, and cameras recorded as he ran to the pool house where another boy was teasing another girl with a sketch of a zombie gorilla.

“Oh god, Tayson!” Madyson groaned as people stopped and stared.

“Give that back!” Tayson cried as he grabbed the paper out of the other boy’s hand.

The last person had his actual entire sketchbook in the pool and was trying to freak out a girl with one of his favorite pictures, that of a reptilian dog hybrid. Clutching the pictures close to his chest, Tayson begged, “Please! Give that back!” But all his classmate did was dangle it out of reach.

“Tayson!” Madyson yelled as she got out of her seat and ran to the side of the pool.

Tayson grabbed at the book, held just out of reach. Then, his foot slipped, and he tumbled in, pages flying into the water, and knocking the boy back and sending his sketchbook to the bottom. Water rushed into his nose and he struggled amid a sea of legs and arms as he dove down to retrieve his treasure. When he broke the surface, gasping for air, he was greeted by a chorus of laughter and jeers. He reached the edge of the pool and put his sopping wet sketchbook on the edge, like a friend he’d failed to save from drowning. Water pouring down his glasses, he could just make out Maddox, Amelia, and Jackson moving to the back of the ground. His dad stared at the mess that had become his backyard and took a long pull from his beer. And standing several feet above him, a look of rage on her burning red face, stood his mother.

#

“What were you thinking?” Madyson asked.

Tayson sat on his bed staring up at his parents. The party was over, his classmates and their parents long gone, and the shadows falling over the now vacant pool and backyard outside matched the pall falling over Tayson’s mood.

“Son,” said Patrick, waving a half empty beer bottle about, “you really upset and embarrassed your mother, and-”
Madyson held up a hand. “I can handle this, Patrick.” Her eyes never left Tayson. “What were you thinking?”

Tayson’s jaw dropped. After the debacle at the party, his mother had sent him up to his room cradling his ruined art. Now that everyone was gone, she had the gall to come up here and ask him what he was thinking when other people vandalized his work and humiliated him? It was all he could do to hold his hands out like he was showing her something obvious.

All he could do was stammer. “I… they’re the ones who… my art…”

Patrick said, “Look son, we’re not looking for-”
Madyson, without looking at him, said, “Patrick, please. I’ve got this.”
He shrugged and turned and headed into the media room. Soon the sounds of a baseball game could be heard from the TV. All the while, Madyson clenched her eyes shut and seethed. She then closed the door, folded her arms, and stared down at Tayson.

“What. Were. You. Thinking?” she demanded.

Tayson blinked in shock. “What was I thinking?” he asked. “Are you serious? It was those guys who ruined my art that did it!”
“I remember explicitly telling you to put that sketchbook of yours away in case we showed anybody the house.”

“I did! They must’ve come into my room and found it! And why are you mad at me and not them?”

“You could’ve just let those awful pictures go instead of making a scene.”
His shoulders sagged as he felt his pleas falling on deaf ears. Not just deaf, but closed shut.

He turned away and muttered, “You could’ve…”

“I what?” Madyson demanded.

He stared up at her. “You could’ve done something.”
Her eyes bulged like he’d insulted her. “What would I have done, Tayson? Make a fool of myself trying to recover your monstrous art? Debased myself in front of my peers and their children?”

“How about stand up for me?”

She blinked rapidly. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do? I opened up our home for your classmates in the hopes that you might actually get out there and interact with them and hopefully take your steps into high school with a new look at things.”
“Mom, I don’t want that! I just… wanna be me!”

“And what’s that going to get you, Tayson? A lonely four years continuing to be the ‘weird kid?’”

“I like being the ‘weird kid’ Mom. It’s not my fault they don’t get me. And, I was starting to get along with some people who didn’t care!”

“And maybe you wouldn’t have to if you…”
She looked away.

“If I what?” he asked.

“If you weren’t… the way you are, Tay.”

She looked at him with such pity that it was impossible to meet her gaze. He stared at the floor instead. Then, anger at what she’d said, at everything that had happened, burned like octane in him.

“If you loved me for who I was,” he said, “you wouldn’t have been humiliated today.”
He glared up at her and, for a fraction of a second, saw remorse, sadness, and love in her. But it was quickly cascaded over by the usual disapproving anger he was so used to.

She said, “If I didn’t love you, Tayson, I wouldn’t have risked humiliating myself in the first place.”

With that, she threw his door open and stormed out. Tayson got up off his bed and slammed the door shut. After he did, he slammed his eyes shut against the oncoming tears.

#

It was past 11. Madyson lay in bed and was still seething so much she had been angrily reading page after page of a trashy thriller and barely absorbing the words. Patrick was dozing off and on beside her, the end of a game on the TV on top of their dresser. A loud snore made her fantasize even more about the cheating and murderous wife in her book. Finally, he snorted and woke up, looking around sleepily, then turned to her. He asked if she was still up which she replied with a curt, “What’s it look like?”

“How was Tayson?” he asked.

“Fine,” Madyson said with a hard flapping turn of a page. Obviously she didn’t mean it.

“Sure you weren’t too hard on him?”

“No,” she said, thinking back to the harsh words exchanged between them.

Patrick shrugged then turned off the TV and rolled over to finally go to sleep. But, bringing up her argument with Tayson had only stoked the fires inside Madyson. How could he be so foolish? She tried to rationalize that he was young, not even turning 14 until October, and that it had, indeed, been his prized, disgusting drawings that had been ruined. Maybe I could’ve been a little gentler with him, she thought. I could’ve made those boys leave, but their parents assured me they’d punish them. She shook her head. What am I thinking? It’s not like he’s drawing Picassos or whatever, it’s just gross, disgusting monsters. It’s not worth worrying over. What is is Tayson wasting his time and his talent on them.

Then an idea struck her.

There’s the downtown arts fest happening in a couple weeks. I could take him and show him some real art, talk to real artists, get his talents focused in the right direction. She smiled and closed her book. Maybe he’ll be a true artist yet.

#

The downtown promenade, with its renovated shops and restaurants, was bustling with fervor as now tents and booths filled the closed off main thoroughfare. Tayson walked behind Madyson and Patrick, wide eyes soaking in all the pictures, paintings, and photographs on display by local and visiting artists.

Madyson asked, “Well, Tay, what do you think?” as they pushed through the bustling crowds.

Tayson eyed a booth full of photographs of horses. “Very cool. But…”
As they’d been walking, he’d seen immaculate oil paintings of landscapes, charcoal drawings of peoples’ faces, statues of figures and shapes, and more than he could imagine. What he didn’t see were any monsters, aliens, demons, not even dinosaurs. Maybe some wildlife photography and paintings caught his eye, but that was about it. Just the kind of art his parents and their friends would enjoy buying and hanging in their homes, not the kind he’d see in comics and manga or in video games and movies.

“But what?” asked Madyson.

Tayson shrugged and said, “It’s all kinda… normal.”
Madyson rolled her eyes. “Look around! Just imagine if you had your own booth. You could be making a killing with your skills.”
Tayson lit up.

“And the appropriate subject matter, of course,” his mother added.

He pouted.

“I wonder if there’s a beer tent?” Patrick asked.

Madyson said, “Dear, if you want to find us some food and yourself something to drink, you’re more than welcome to. Tayson and I can take care of ourselves.”
Patrick pecked Madyson on the cheek and was off, leaving Tayson and Madyson to walk alone by themselves. They continued passing by booth after booth, Madyson stopping to gawk at expensive landscapes and paintings of squares, circles, and random colors and splashes of paint that were inscrutable to Tayson. Soon though, he was studying the black and white sketches of wild animals.

Madyson walked up behind him. “What did you find?”

“Wow,” was all he could say.

The artist, a young man maybe ten years older than him, arms littered with tattoos and piercings in his ears, walked up. “See something you like?”
Tayson pointed to a mostly black picture of a tiger with its stripes, claws, and teeth in white. “I love this! How’d you do it?”

“Thanks, kid. I took the photo myself at the zoo and then sketched it in black and white.”

Madyson placed a hand on his shoulder. “My son likes sketching.”
“Oh really?” asked the artist, eyeing Tayson’s mother a little too long. “What do you like to draw?”

“Monsters and stuff!” Tayson blurted out. “Y’know, like aliens from movies and Resident Evil monsters and stuff.”
The artist smirked condescendingly. “Not bad. But, there’s nothing like the real things.” He looked up at Madyson. “I bet your mom’s as fierce as a tiger herself.”

Madyson put a finger to her lips. “Only when I’m provoked.”

The artist chuckled, and Tayson felt his interest waning like it had been pushed downhill. Madyson and he began talking, and Tayson went back to looking at the art, his interest in the artist dying. It was good art, and he could see himself doing something like it. But it just didn’t scratch the itch of something made purely from imagination.

His eyes drifted outside to the other booths and vendors. “Mom?” he said. “I’m gonna take a look around.”
But Madyson was busy laughing at something the artist said as he showed her one of his tattoos. Tayson rolled his eyes and strolled away. Soon he was lost among paintings, portraits, sculptures, and scribbles, most of it looking like the kind of respectable art his mom wanted him to make, not the kind that actually drew anything from his soul. Before long, he was standing as the crowd surged around him wondering where she and his dad were and when they were going home.

Then, his something tugged at his ears. “Art supplies!”

He spun around and approached a booth at one of the closed off intersections. “Handmade Art Supplies!” read a sign. Sun shining in his eyes, Tayson strolled into the humble tent and found himself surrounded by brushes, pencils, and paints. But what caught his eyes were the row upon row of leatherbound books of every color lining the booth’s walls.

“Hello, young man!” asked a gorgeous woman about his mother’s age, with deep yellow blonde hair wearing a punk rock band T-shirt and chain bracelets on her wrists dangling tiny locks.

“Hi,” he said, as gobsmacked by her beauty as he was by her merchandise.

“Looking for something?”

“I, uh… are those sketchbooks?”

She glanced behind her and beamed. “They are! My son and I hand make everything we sell.”
Tayson saw a young man about three or four years older than him standing behind her wearing a shirt with a skull with a wagging tongue who was busy helping a customer, an older gentleman, buying some paint brushes.

“You can pick them up if you want to look,” she said.

Tayson all but jumped at the wall of sketchbooks. He picked up a blue one with a diamond studded pattern that was about six by eight inches. He opened it to see fine, thick, pure white paper. He put it back then went for another, a green one, maybe 10 by 12, with a leather strap clasp and pure white paper. Then, another, shiny black leather exterior, four by six, with aged brownish paper and a long red ribbon placeholder.

“These are amazing,” he said as he felt the paper and the weight of the books.
“Thank you,” the gorgeous clerk said. “They take a while to make. We sell a lot at renaissance fairs.”

“How much are they?”

“There’s a tag.”

Tayson finally noticed the small tag hanging by a piece of string. His stomach hopped into his throat when he saw the price of $60.

“That’s a lot,” he whispered.

He checked the others and saw that the six by eight books were $80 and the 10 by 12 ones were $100 on up.

“Yes,” the pretty clerk said with a hint of regret. “We put a lot of work into them, so they do cost a lot.”

Tayson held the book, not even the largest or one he liked the most, like it was a friend he was seeing leave on their last day of school, and put it back on the rack. “I’d really like one,” he said. “But I don’t have that much.” And he doubted he’d get his mom to hand out that much for something she probably thought he’d fill with nonsense.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said.

Tayson heaved out a sigh. “I hate it. I just lost my last sketcbhook, too.”

“Oh?”
He went on to tell her the tale of his disemboweled and drowned sketchbook from two weeks ago. Pity for him and anger at his injustice filled her face.

“That’s dreadful!” she told him. “So you liked to draw monsters?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I love monsters! Aliens, demons, all kinds. My mom hates it. It drives her crazy.”

She nodded thoughtfully. Then, a gleam entered her eye and she looked to a box underneath the racks of books on the wall. She knelt down, Tayson glancing away from her nice protruding posterior, and pulled out a simple eight by ten book bound in plain brown leather.

“This was a custom piece we were working on,” she explained, “but as you can see, the leather got scratched up pretty bad.”

Tayson nodded. It did look like a lion had clawed at the exterior.

The clerk held the book to her chest and smirked. “What have you got on you?”

Tayson practically yanked his wallet out of his pocket. “Is $20 good?”

He held the money out and the clerk mischievously snatched it up and shoved the book into his hands. Tayson opened it and flipped through the pages, imagining all the things he could fill it with. It felt like he’d had a missing limb reattached.

“Thank you!” he said.

The clerk leaned down until her amazing face was inches from his. “Now, don’t mind your mom. You go on and fill that with all the monsters and creatures you can imagine.”

He beamed at her. “Thank you so much!” Then, he deflated some. “I just hate to think what she’ll say when she sees it.”
“Don’t worry, honey.” She put a hand on his shoulder, making him turn beet red and his pants tighten. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

With another thank you, Tayson was out the booth and sprinting down the promenade like he’d just learned how to run. He found Madyson and Patrick a few minutes later, him with a beer, her a glass of wine and a soda.

“There you are!” she said as he approached. “Find something?”

Tayson shrugged like it was no big thing. “Oh, nothing. Just a new handmade sketchbook.”
“I see! So, has seeing some of this art inspired you?”

“You could say that.” He grinned.

She narrowed an eye conspicuously at him, then smiled. “Okay. Here’s a soda. C’mon, let’s keep walking.”

Tayson took the drink, sipped, and followed his parents. But as they continued through the art fair, all he could think of was what he’d draw first when he got home.

#

When they got home, Tayson wasn’t the only member of the Wianwright family to bring in something art related. Patrick had picked up a foil embossed painting of Nolan Ryan pitching, and Madyson got a painting of tropical frogs for the pool house. After Patrick excused himself to go hang out and watch a game with his buddies, Madyson recruited Tayson to help her hang the painting in the pool house.

“There,” she said after having him realign it multiple times.

He stood beside her to admire his work. “Looks good to me,”

“Me too,” she said. “Isn’t it a gorgeous piece?”
Tayson admired how the paint seemed to drip the frog into existence and how the colorful plants contrasted with the red-eyed blue and green frog. “It is. Good choice, Mom.”

“Thank you, Tay.” She took a breath. “I could you see painting something like this.”
“Really?” It felt like balloons were lifting his chest up.

“Oh, yes. Certainly prettier than those monsters you prefer.”
It felt like the balloons popped. He kept a deflated, ‘Oh,” from escaping his lips.

Madyson glanced outside. “There’s still an hour or so of light left. I think I’ll have a drink and get in the pool. Care to join me?”

It felt like he’d just sink to the bottom if he got in. “No thanks, Mom,” he said. “I think I’ll just go play some games or something.”
She shrugged and said, “Suit yourself.”
He was in the kitchen making himself something to drink when Madyson came down the stairs in just a white and gold bikini and holding a towel. Tayson wasn’t dumb, he knew his mother was gorgeous. But seeing her beauty that didn’t appreciate his own gross weirdness, not only that, but was angered by it, made him feel all the more lonesome and gruesome. He avoided looking at her spectacular curves as she sashayed out the back patio doors into the remaining sunlight.

Tayson, suddenly feeling disgusting and unloved, decided to take it out on his sketchbook. Soon he was up in his bedroom hovering over the new sketcbhook laid out on his desk like he was being called to write holy verse.

What was it the pretty blonde clerk had said? “Fill that with all the monsters and creatures you can imagine”?

Mom liked that frog painting, he thought. I’ll make up the slimiest, wartiest, most disgusting monster frog I can think of!

Imaging frogs possessed by demons, mutated by viruses, or just evolved beyond belief, Tayson took his freshly sharpened pencil and, with only a moment’s hesitation over the gorgeous blank page, spent 30 minutes sketching, erasing, then redrawing, coloring and shading a frog monster. It was colored a sickly blue and green with yellowing warts all over its slimy body, angry red eyes, a long pink tongue lolling out of its giant wide, round mouth, filled with small knobby teeth, and had long, grasping, webbed fingers and toes.

She likes the frog painting, he thought angrily, I’ll give her frogs!

#

Madyson swam languidly in the large pool, the early evening summer sun still cascading down onto her even as it declined down the sky. She had maybe 15 minutes of natural light left, but then could of course turn on the pool’s lights. The water was just on the side of cold, and had tingled her body as she slowly waded in. Now, she was warm and alive as she floated and swam up and down the pool’s length.

She leaned back and floated, staring up at the dimming sky soon to be filled with stars. She felt her muscles loosening from her tense workout the day before. She’d always been in shape, though now as a late 30 something mother she needed to be extra cautious. Which was a nice thing about the pool, letting her workout and relax at the same time. And, since it was still early June, the summer nights would be just cool enough to allow reasonable use of pool’s connected hot tub. She sighed and stroked backward, her breasts ambling up and down in the water. Her bikini felt almost strangling on her, as it always did when she was alone. And if she wasn’t sure Tayson was upstairs, or if at least he was absorbed in a video game, she’d have removed if and swam naked. But she couldn’t risk traumatizing her poor son, even with a body as well toned and gorgeous as hers. And besides, their high white stucco walls prevented anybody from looking in, the back wall faced undeveloped land beyond their gated community, and their only neighbors were in Europe for a month.

Finally, the sun sank below walls. Soon, the automatic timer would light up the pool. It felt to Madyson like the perfect time to adjourn to the hot tub with a nice drink. She strode up the steps out of the pool, cool air tingling her skin, and went to the small bar in the back patio and poured herself a glass of champagne. Then, she sauntered over and slipped into the hot tub, turning it up just enough to warm her.

As she drank and warmed, it was truly a temptation not to strip down. After all, her towel was within reach in case Tayson came outside. Glancing back at the house, she rationalized that while his room was on the other side of the house and faced the undeveloped land out back, he could still walk down the hall or come down to the kitchen and see her. But after another sip and a few seconds, she thought, Hell with it! and undid her top and slipped her bottom off, setting them on the hot tub’s ledge beside her towel. I can just cover myself with my towel and he can just deal with it.

She leaned against the tub’s ledge as the water began to heat amid the sun’s dying rays. Her thoughts drifted, to the handsome artist flirting with her that morning and how seriously tempted she might have been under certain circumstances, how Patrick was out with the boys again and their own perfunctory sex life, that it had only been truly wild when they were trying to make Tayson, and then, with a sigh, her thoughts turned to her son.

That boy… Madyson thought, then took a bitter, bubbly sip. All I do for him and he just lives in his own horrid fantasy world. She took a bigger sip. Maybe today really got to him, thought. He seemed fascinated by that handsome man’s animal art, and he liked the painting I purchased for the pool house. She took another drink and smiled, thinking, I bet today will be a real turning point for him.

The last bit of sunlight finally died, leaving her comfortably hidden in the dark. The bubbles tickled her brain, and she leaned back and kicked lazy splashes in the water.

It covered the sound of something slipping into the pool.

Madyson stared up at the dark sky, thoughts dancing in her head as her body warmed in the hot. She reached for her glass for another sip when something splashed by her feet at the point where the hot tub connected to the pool.

“Patrick?” she drunkenly asked. “Did you get home early?”

Then the timer kicked the lights on, and Madyson saw it wasn’t her husband climbing into the hot tub. It wasn’t even somebody. It was something.

It stood at least five feet tall, almost a head shorter than her but still too tall for what the frog-like thing it was. It had long fingers with almost round, suction-like tips grasping the edge of the hot tub as it lifted itself out of the pool. Its body shone in the blue pool lights as a ghastly blue and green with hideous yellow warts all over, coated in slime. But worst of all were the red eyes, red as a blood moon, staring at her with hideous horizontal irises atop a round, bulbous mouth. A smell like dirt and rotten flesh filled her nostrils.

It took only a blink for Madyson to go from slightly inebriated, warm, and relaxed to frigid with horror. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could escape, the giant frog had opened its mouth and exploded its tongue out, ramming it into her open mouth and splattering her face with thick saliva. Finally she did scream, but the sound was muffled by the thick, muscular thing worming around inside her mouth, the awful taste of its rancid tongue on hers, its saliva rivuleting warmly down her throat.

She kicked up water as she turned and tried to run out of the hot tub, but the frog creature’s tongue elongated out of its mouth, roping around her chest, squeezing between her breasts, and then pinning her arms helplessly to her side just above the elbow. With a yank it pulled her back, slamming her naked back and rear against its disgustingly lukewarm, slimy skin, somehow more slippery than the water yet impossible to escape.

Then, its hands were on her breasts, long thing, muscular fingers grabbing her like she was a piece of meat. Its round, suction-cup like fingertips pulled at her skin. She thrashed against its grasp, but its massive tongue and thin, sinewy arms were inescapable. All the while, its tongue wiggled about in her mouth, thick and all but gagging her and choking her screams in a forced, unstoppable frog french kiss, the long, membranous length of it around her body massaging her bests and squeezing her lover-tight like a boa constrictor.

Still, she kicked up water, making loud splashes with her free legs. She tried to kick and jump away, but it proved impossible. Maybe the noise would attract attention? Maybe Patrick would come home soon and rescue her from this unbelievable living nightmare? Maybe even Tayson might see and come to her rescue?

And then, to her disgust, its round finger tips began tugging at her nipples. A strange feeling began to seep into her skin from her contact with its mucusy flesh, making her body hotter, her legs quiver, her eyes dilate, and to her shock, her pussy warm. And as she squirmed against it and it pressed against her, she felt something begin to protrude from between its legs against her exposed rear.

All the things happening to her body, the constricting, choking tongue, the grabbing hands, the hot sensation soaking into her skin, was all too much. But the thing that was beginning to poke at her round butt? That was too much. Only able to breath through her nose, she began hollering as loudly as she could, thrashing as hard as possible. But, all she managed to do was get the area around the hot tub well, all that happened was that she tired herself out.

Nobody came to her rescue. Madyson was helpless.

As she struggled more against the frog thing’s body, it finally released its molesting grab of her breasts and took hold of her hips. Strong fingers dug into her flank and thighs, stilling some of her thrashing. Its tongue remained in place, almost massaging her body and chest. Then, they began to spread her legs apart. Madyson managed to turn her head just enough to see, past its uncaring, inhuman eyes, through the saliva coating her face and the her loose, stuck hair, as her rear and back bounced against the things’ belly, something long, thick, and slick like a tail extend from between its legs. Its pointed head began to poke at her thighs as it slid towards her.

To her horror, her body almost welcomed it as the tip pressed against her pussy.

No no no! she thought but was powerless to do anything. She clenched her hot pussy tight, but the head slid easily between her lips. Then, as it gripped her tight, the frog rammed its hips forward and plunged its cock into her, slick and slimy, thick and wart covered. Madyson let out one last bellowing scream, and then its tongue was down her throat. Her own saliva ran down her pouty lips as they compulsively sucked on the frog creature’s tongue.

Help! her mind screamed. Somebody! Patrick! Tayson!

#

Tayson, having finished his drawing and spent more than enough time admiring it, had then sighed, felt like it was another great work nobody would admire but him, and then relegated himself to playing video games. So, he’d put his headphones on, turned down the lights, and booted up an indie horror game on his gaming rig. But, within a few minutes, he was too, albeit pleasantly, creeped out to keep playing. Shuddering with joy, he decided he needed some dessert and so, descended down to the kitchen.

He descended the stairs, light from the hall above all there was to see, towards the darkened kitchen. He was about to flick the lights on when he caught sight of movement out the large windows facing the backyard. He could see the pool lights were on, and his mother was in the hot tub. But what was she doing? It looked like she was leaning against the hot tub ledge. But…

Is she naked? Oh my god! And is somebody in there with her?
Then, as he stepped closer, his eyes all but bulged out of their sockets as he saw what he had drawn was in the hot tub with his mom, and he realized what it was doing to her. It was like he’d been punched in the gut and all the air had left his lungs.

Mom?! he thought.

Running up to the window, he could see some sort of strange frog monster fucking Madyson hard from behind, its hands on her hips, its tongue wrapped around her naked body and plunged deep into her mouth. Her head was turned and her eyes glued to the monster having its way with her, terror splayed across her face. Tayson was about to throw the door open and run to her rescue, but his hand stopped, hovering inches from the door knob.

What am I going to do? What can I do?

He stared at the unbelievable sight unfolding in his backyard. A monster was fucking his mother! What could he do, run up and hit it? He wasn’t strong or athletic at all. Beg it to stop?

And as he stared transfixed at the sight, wondering what to do, he finally recognized the creature from his sketchbook.

Is that… my monster?!

He felt like fainting. Not only had his drawing come to life somehow, but it was fucking, no, raping his mother. Though he was inside, he could just make out the splashing and almost hear her strangled pleas.

Did… did I do this?

She squirmed its grasp, splashing more water about as it rammed her from behind. The realization that somehow he had caused this happen to her almost made him vomit. He felt unsteady, weak at the knees.

What am I doing? I need to save her!

Then another thought entered his mind, of his own pleas for her to help him save his art from bullies from his school she’d invited to his home, of all the times he’d shown off his newest work of art only for her to either roll her eyes or stare in revulsion, of how he’d all but begged her to accept him as he was while she’d done nothing but make him feel almost unwanted by his own mother.

Why?

He pulled his hand back from the knob and retreated into the darkness of the kitchen, his eyes still glued to the sight of her being used by a monster, by his monster. His breathing grew rapid, his blood hot, and he couldn’t stop from noticing the bulge growing in his pants.

Why should I save her? he thought as he continued watching.

#

The frog’s cock filled Madyson’s pussy, its warts rubbing against her G-spot. That and whatever chemical the slime off its skin was producing just made her more aroused. Her jaw worked weak gasping cries out as the frog monster’s tongue continued ramming her throat. With all her struggles to shake off the thing, she’d only grown weaker. Or was she succumbing to what it was doing to her?

No… no, help! Somebody help me!

But her strangled cries were turning to strangled moans, her eyes were beginning to roll into the back of her head, and her toes were starting to curl.

The awful creature reared back and shoved its cock into her again.

Somebody…

Her hips smacked against the thing’s as it shoved its cock into her, each thrust penetrating deeper and deeper into her. Tears fell out Madyson’s eyes as she sucked the frog’s tongue and moaned into it. Surely this horrible experience, this forced, inhuman pleasure was nothing but a bad dream? But she could feel the pain as its cock went deeper and deeper into her pussy, its grip tighten on her hips, its tongue, almost sweet tasting, all but squeeze the air from her lungs.

Then, it began pounding her harder, faster, groaning croaks escaping its open drooling mouth.

Is it going to? No… No!

But as it fucked her harder and faster, she realized she was getting closer, too. She clenched her pussy tight to try and stop the oncoming pleasure, but that just made her grip its cock firmer.

“Uuuuhhh… oooooohhhm…” she moaned out of her full mouth.

Water, slime, saliva flew everywhere as the frog jackhammered Madyson. Her breasts heaved up and down between its licking hold on her torso, and her head began wobbling as she lost all control.

I can’t cum to this thing! I can’t I can’t I… oohhh…

“Hrrm… guuuhh…” she tried to gasp.

She shuddered and shook in the frog thing’s embrace, loud smacks emanating from them as it fucked her. It croaked gurgling, pleased sounds along with her choked moans. Then, it’s hips quaked. Madyson could feel it coming for both of them.

No, no, no, noooohhhaahh…

“Oooohhaaaaah!” she bellowed into its tongue as she climaxed on its wart covered cock. Her limbs quaked like wet noodles, electric pleasure curling her toes.

Then, the frog pulled back and plunged as hard and deep as it could into her and began unleashing load after load of hot, slimy cum into her. Madyson could feel it filling her up and overflowing, rivuleting down her thighs and into the hot tub. She gasped and tried to breathe, finding she was getting just enough air through her nostrils.

The frog thing shook against her as it came, its grip on her hips and thighs vise firm, its tongue almost cracking her body. Then, it began to relax against her, its tongue loosened and unwound around her. When it finally plopped out of Madyson’s mouth, she gasped like a drowning woman and let out weak, barely audible moans.

“Oooh… godd… no…” she whimpered.

All the energy going out of it, the frog collapsed against her, head on her back like a spent lover, and the two sank together into the hot tub. Madyson blinked the tears away and sucked in welcome breaths. She leaned against the ledge as the monster slipped off her and into the water.

What… did I enjoy… oh, god!

Her body still trembling, Madyson pushed herself up onto her forearms to take stock of her surroundings. Smacking her lips full of saliva and slime, which also coated her body, awful, thick cum spilling out of her into the hot tub, she glanced behind her to see what had become of the frog monster.

It was gone. She was alone in the hot tub, exhausted, coated and filled with horrible secretions, and, blinking at her naked solitude, in shock as to what had just happened.

She began to scream, then covered her mouth, shut her eyes, and let the tears come. After a few minutes of quiet weeping and moaning, she turned to the house.

#

Tayson had watched the two of them fuck like he was watching a nature documentary and a horror movie at the same time. All the while, to his surprise, his penis had only hardened and swollen. When they both finally finished, he grew woozy and took a moment to realize he’d been holding his breath for he didn’t know how long.

Then, the frog had slipped off his mother and into the hot tub. When Madyson came to and began looking around, it seemed gone.

He watched as she cried, and fought every impulse to rush out and hug her. But fear, shame, and excitement kept him in the dark kitchen.

Suddenly, Madyson looked to the house. Tayson froze. Did she see him? He watched as she slowly stood out of the hot tub on unsteady legs and reached for her half-soaked towel. Then, gingerly picking up her bikini, she made her way to the house.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he whispered as he backed out of the kitchen. He ran for the stairs and practically flew up them to his room. He put his headphones on, turned his game back and, with one last thankful thought, closed his sketchbook and shoved it between his bed’s mattresses. His shaking hands took hold of the controller and he began to play, albeit very poorly. After a few minutes, his breathing had calmed and he had quick shaking. The question was, where was his mom?

Maybe she’s calling the cops? he thought. Oh god, what will they do if they find my sketchbook? Or maybe she’s calling Dad to get him home now! Or maybe-

“Tayson?”

He almost jumped out of his skin as he heard his named yelled. He pulled off his headset and spun to find his mother standing in his doorway clad in a white robe, her wet hair plastered messily to her head.

“Y-Yeah?” he said.

She practically whispered, “I said, are you okay?”

He swallowed. Had she seen him? Did she know? Or had he even imagined everything?

“I’m good,” he said. “Just, uh, scared. Y’know, scary game.”

She nodded weakly and began to turn, then stopped to ask him, “Did you, um, see or hear anything?”
He blinked rapidly. “Like… in the game?”

“No, no, uh, just now, outside.”

Her eyes were wide and her lips trembled. He had difficulty staring at her, but couldn’t not.

“No. Why, did you hear something?”

She sputtered a laugh. “No, I… no, it’s nothing.”

“Oh. Okay.”

With one last, long glance at him, she stepped out and pulled his door to. He listened until she closed her own door far down the hall, then put his headphones back on. His hands held the controller, but he didn’t play.

He looked down at his pants. His hardness still made them poke up like a tent.

He fumbled through a few in-game deaths then decided it was time for bed, though the was far from sleepy. After turning the lights off, getting into just his boxers and sliding into bed, he proceeded to stare up at the ceiling. Eventually, his dad came home, but the only noise he made or that Tayson heard was from him opening and closing his and his mom’s bedroom door. Then, Tayson was free to try and sleep.

What did I do to my Mom? he wondered all throughout a mostly sleepless night until he finally passed out from worry, all the while, his mind on the leatherbound collection of paper hidden below him like a time bomb.