Mommy's Drawn That Way

Mommy's Drawn That Way
by DiscipleN_AI


Chapter 1

In the heart of their cozy, sunlit home, Caitlin discovered Evan standing naked in the bathroom, his small hand clutching a purple crayon while a sheet of paper lay on the sink countertop. The room was filled with the soft scent of soap and the hum of the ventilation fan, a familiar atmosphere that was now tainted with an unfamiliar tension. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice echoing slightly against the tiled walls.

Evan looked up at his mother, his eyes reflecting the harsh fluorescent light. "I'm gonna draw a picture of my penis, Mommy," he declared, studying himself in the mirror with an unusual intensity for an eight-year-old. "My teacher said it's good to draw who you are?"

Caitlin leaned against the doorframe, her brow furrowing as she tried to navigate this unexpected territory. "I think your teacher meant that you should draw things about your life, not just your body," she suggested gently.

Evan shrugged, his focus still on his reflection. "I dunno." He paused, then added, "My pee pee acts funny sometimes, and it tingles. That's why I want to draw it." As he spoke, his penis began to stir, growing larger under his mother's gaze.

Caitlin shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing pink. "Your penis is a very private thing, Evan," she said, starting to close the bathroom door. "I will leave you alone."

"Mommy, I WANT you to watch me draw my penis!" Evan exclaimed, his voice filled with an urgency that bordered on desperation. He was eager to explore all aspects of this newfound sensation, even if it pushed the boundaries of what was appropriate.

Caitlin hesitated, her hand still on the doorknob. "Okay, Evan, I'll watch," she conceded, though her discomfort was evident in the way she averted her gaze. She had always been enthusiastic about supporting her son's artistic endeavors, but this was uncharted territory. Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed his penis growing larger, and she couldn't help but blush at the sight.

Evan giggled, pointing at her with his crayon. "Hehe! Mommy's blushing!" he teased, then turned back to his paper. The crayon began to scribble out a crude drawing of Evan's penis, a shape that looked more like an irregular egg than a phallus. Despite its lack of accuracy, Evan beamed with pride at his creation.

As Caitlin watched, her initial blush receded, replaced by a sense of unease. She was a professional when it came to art criticism, but she had to refrain from telling her son the truth about his crude and imperfect drawing. "I know you're putting a lot of feelings into this," she said carefully, "but think about the accuracy of the image's proportions, as you draw."

Evan glanced up at her, then back down at his paper. "I'm trying to make it look like how it feels, Mommy!" he insisted. "Like when I pee, and sometimes it goes farther than usual!" He looked at his mother again, noticing that she didn't seem as pleased with his drawing as she usually was. His enthusiasm waned slightly. "Don't you like it?"

Caitlin took a step back, her discomfort growing. "Your drawing is fine," she reassured him, "but I wish you would do a better job of cleaning up when your pee misses the pot." She felt oddly nervous around her naked son, his erection seeming far too large for his age. "I-I need to get back to work, Honey," she stammered, taking another step away from him.

Evan's face fell, disappointment etched in every line of his young features. "Mommy, stay... You always say art is about feelings..." he pleaded, adding a crude female figure beside his penis on the paper. It had Caitlin's hair, but the body was little more than a vague humanoid shape.

Knowing better than to ask who the person was, Caitlin instead asked, "Why did you choose to use a purple crayon? What about that color is important for what you wanted to draw?" She tried to focus on the artistic aspects of his creation, rather than the unsettling subject matter.

Evan looked up at her, his face flushed with excitement and frustration. "Purple's my favorite, Mommy... and it's the color that my pee pee head gets when I touch myself," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved faster on the paper, trying to capture the essence of his mother in his drawing.

Purple?! Caitlin was immediately worried by his revelation. "You have to be careful about touching yourself, Evan," she warned him. "Don't be too strong with - your penis!"

Evan ignored her warning, consumed by his desire to capture his mother's likeness on the paper. "I want to draw your hair... People always say it's pretty," he mumbled. The crayon moved from swift, uneven strokes as he attempted to recreate her curly locks.

"Is that really what my hair looks like?" Caitlin asked, her voice softening despite the strange circumstances. She wasn't offended by his poor attempt at drawing her; she was more concerned about his health and well-being. "But please don't hurt yourself when you masturbate."

Evan looked up at her, an idea forming in his young mind. His mother wanted to make sure he was careful, so he would show her. "Mommy... Watch this..." he said, setting down his crayon and paper. He grasped his half-hard penis, thinking he was being gentle, but the head quickly turned a deep shade of purple under his strong grip.

Caitlin's eyes widened in alarm. "Evan! You're gripping it too hard!" she exclaimed, her voice rising sharply. She hadn't meant to shout, but the sight of her son hurting himself was too much for her to bear. Her son was so passionate, he did everything with too much energy. She often struggled to keep up with his antics, and this was no exception.

Evan pouted, dropping his hands away from his penis as he crossed his arms defiantly. "I'm just trying to show you..." he muttered, his face turning red with embarrassment and frustration. "You never watch me... You don't care about my art."

Caitlin softened her voice and crouched down beside him, placing a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. "Art is one thing, Honey," she said gently. "I like to watch you draw, but sometimes I'm too busy. I have to make a living for us." She sighed, addressing her real concern. "I'm sorry I shouted, but I don't want you to hurt yourself." She bit her lip, torn between her desire to get back to work and her need to ensure her son's safety. "Maybe if you show me that you can be gentle, I'll watch," she offered tentatively.

Evan thought for a moment before his face brightened with determination. He was eager to please his mother, to prove to her that he could be gentle. "Okay! I can be gentle, Mommy! I promise!" he declared, taking a deep breath as he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the base of his half-hard penis once more. He moved his hand slowly, hoping that this would make her happy. The head remained a deep shade of purple, a testament to his inexperience and enthusiasm.

Caitlin watched her son carefully, noting the slow movements of his hand and the tension in his grip. "Slower is good, Honey," she encouraged him, "but relax your grip. Don't make your penis purple." She withdrew her hand from his shoulder, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with what she had promised to watch.

Evan looked up at his mother, seeking guidance as he tried to navigate these new and confusing sensations. "What do mean by relax?" he asked her, genuinely unsure of how to stop making it purple.

Caitlin blushed again, knowing she was on shaky ethical ground as she tried to guide her son through this intimate moment. "Hold out your pointing finger," she instructed him, hoping that the demonstration would help him understand. She was disappointed to see that he continued to masturbate even as he held out his right hand's index finger, but she pressed on nonetheless.

Evan watched his mother intently, his left hand still stroking his fully erect penis as she grasped his finger in her own and squeezed it gently. "See, that's too hard," she explained, hoping to convey the importance of gentleness in this delicate matter.

Evan looked at her concerned face, trying to understand why she was doing this. His left hand still stroked his fully erect penis, which was starting to hurt from the purple head. He winced slightly, unsure of how to alleviate the discomfort he was feeling.

"Relax your hand, Evan," Caitlin urged him softly, demonstrating by relaxing her grip on his right hand's finger. "See?" she asked, hoping that this simple gesture would be enough to convey her message.

Evan nodded slowly, his left hand gradually releasing tension as the deep purple hue of his penis's head began to fade to a dark red. It still hurt slightly, but the pain was manageable now. He looked up at his mother, hope shining in his eyes as he silently pleaded with her to stay by his side.

Caitlin wanted nothing more than to leave him to his privacy, to retreat from this uncomfortable situation, but she knew that doing so would only upset her son further. "What you're doing should be private, Honey," she said gently, trying to reason with him one last time. "Please let Mommy get back to work. It's important. I'll watch you draw next time, okay?"

Evan pouted once more, his grip on his penis tightening slightly as his frustration grew. "You promised..." he muttered angrily, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "Mommy doesn't care about my art."

Caitlin sighed, knowing that she had to put her foot down despite the potential backlash from her son. "Don't get fussy," she chided him gently. "I didn't promise anything. But now you're doing it better, and I'm very happy about that. You don't need help anymore with masturbating, but I will promise, after I finish work, I'll watch you draw whatever you want." She stood up from her crouched position, her eyes never leaving his face as she prepared to leave him alone once more.

Evan's anger boiled over at this perceived betrayal, and he stomped his foot in frustration. "Mommy doesn't care...!" he shouted, tears welling up in his eyes as he turned away from her. "I'm going to my room! I don't want you to see my art anymore!" He stormed off, slamming the door behind him as he retreated into the solitude of his bedroom, still clutching his penis in his hand as if it were a lifeline to the strange and confusing world he was beginning to navigate.

Caitlin watched her son go, her heart heavy with guilt and concern. Even with years of experience managing artists, she felt that she could have handled the situation better. As Evan's door slammed shut behind him, she turned and walked down the hallway to her small office, a converted bedroom filled with the hum of her computer and the soft glow of her desk lamp. She resumed her work, trying to push the unsettling encounter from her mind as she focused on the tasks at hand. Fortunately, Evan did not bother her during that time, allowing her to lose herself in the familiar routines of her job as she tried to make sense of the strange and discomforting events that had transpired between them.

In the quiet of his bedroom, Evan lay on his bed, his body tense from anger and hurt feelings. An hour had passed since his mother had left him to masturbate alone, and he couldn't shake off the resentment he felt towards her. He stroked himself, trying to forget the pain, but even as the physical sensation turned from discomfort to pleasure, his sour mood spoiled the moment.

Later in the afternoon, Caitlin called out to him from the kitchen, her voice echoing through their home. "Evan! I'm finished!" she announced, signaling that she was ready to give him the attention he craved.

By the time Evan heard his mother's call, his anger had subsided somewhat, but the resentment lingered. He climbed out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, where the crayon drawing from earlier lay on the sink. Picking up a purple crayon, he added a few strokes to the female figure, attempting to make it resemble his mother more closely. With the drawing in hand, he dressed quickly and decided to give his art another try.

Caitlin heard her son moving about but simply waited for him in the kitchen. "Do you want a snack?" she asked, starting to look through the cupboards for something suitable.

Evan entered the kitchen slowly, approaching his mother with caution. He held out the paper and crayon from earlier, his eyes still slightly red from his previous anger. "You promised..." he said quietly, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Caitlin glanced at the drawing, choosing to ignore the strange shape that was supposed to be her son's penis. She focused instead on the reworked female figure, which Evan had attempted to make more closely resemble her. "You've made some improvements," she noted, examining the crude lines and uneven strokes. It was difficult to discern much detail, as he hadn't been able to erase the original crayon marks completely. "Is it ready to put up on the refrigerator?" she asked, scanning the appliance for a bare spot among the other drawings that adorned its surface.

Evan nodded, feeling a little better at his mother's words of encouragement. He wanted to make her happy again and began to think about what else he could draw that would impress her. "Can I... draw your face?" he asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "You have such beautiful hair."

Caitlin smiled at her son's request. "That sounds nice, Sweetie," she agreed, taking his new drawing to the refrigerator and affixing it to the surface with a magnet. "There's not much room left, so you'll have to decide which drawings to replace with this one."

Evan carefully selected one of his least favorite pictures—a simple depiction of their house—and watched as his mother replaced it with his latest creation. He felt grateful that she supported him like this, even if the subject matter was somewhat unconventional. "Thank you... Mommy..." he said softly, taking a seat at the kitchen table with another piece of paper and his favorite purple crayon.

Caitlin poured herself a cup of coffee and checked her phone to ensure it was charged before sitting down beside her son at the table. She kept an eye on his fresh efforts as she scrolled through the new art posted on her business's website, occasionally making notes about minor mistakes that needed correction.

Evan began to draw, concentrating on recreating his mother's curly locks on paper. As he worked, he found himself becoming increasingly aroused by the thought of capturing her likeness more intimately. He glanced at her, studying the shape of her face and body, eager to capture every detail. "Uh... Yeah, Mommy. Comment," he said when she asked if he wanted her input, his hand moving swiftly and confidently over the paper.

Caitlin watched her son draw, noting the care he was taking with this new piece. "That hair is very curly," she observed before he finished drawing a face. "Oh, sorry. You're drawing a person." She realized her mistake as Evan smiled and held out the paper, proudly displaying his latest artwork.

"You, Mommy!" he exclaimed, beaming with pride. The crayon strokes slowed and became more deliberate as he added the final details to his mother's likeness. He held out the paper for her inspection, eager for her approval.

Caitlin examined the drawing politely, noting the exaggerated curls and the crude yet earnest attempt at capturing her features. "That's very sweet," she said, knowing that half of her son's drawings included her in some form or another. She should have guessed that this one would as well. "I think it's a good start, maybe spend more time looking at your subject—me—than at the paper. It's a good way to train yourself to draw more accurately," she advised gently, offering both encouragement and technical guidance.

Evan nodded enthusiastically, his face aglow with excitement. "I'll try that, Mommy!" he promised, his mind already racing with new ideas for how to capture her likeness even more accurately. As he began to draw once more, however, he found himself becoming increasingly aroused by the sight of his mother. His penis grew hard, and he struggled to focus on his artwork as his desire for something more intimate grew stronger.

Caitlin continued to keep an eye on her son's efforts while she reviewed her business's website, making occasional notes about minor adjustments that needed to be made. She was pleased to see the improvement in Evan's drawing skills and hoped that this newfound passion would continue to develop over time.

As Evan finished his latest drawing, he looked up at his mother with a mix of pride and desire. "Do you want to see?" he asked, holding the paper up for her inspection. The crayon drawing of Caitlin's face was more refined than his previous attempts, but it remained somewhat crude and exaggerated, particularly in its depiction of her hair.

Caitlin took the drawing from her son and examined it closely, genuinely impressed by the progress he had made. "My!" she exclaimed, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "That's remarkable improvement, Evan. You should be proud." She teased him gently, sticking out her tongue playfully as she added, "Only my hair isn't purple."

Evan's face turned bright red at his mother's words, and he quickly returned to his drawing, determined to capture her likeness even more accurately this time. As he worked, however, he found himself becoming increasingly consumed by his desire for her. The more he looked at his mother, the harder his penis became, until all he could think about was touching himself and getting closer to her.

Caitlin took a few notes about her website but found herself increasingly distracted by her son's intense gaze. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed, but there was an undeniable passion in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. Little did she know that this passion was now fueled by something far more primal and urgent than a simple desire to create art.

Evan held the crayon still in his hand as he stared at his mother, his eyes traveling from her face to her chest and back again. He wanted desperately to draw everything about her, but all he could think about was touching himself and getting closer to her. "Mommy..." he murmured, leaning towards her with an intensity that made Caitlin's breath catch in her throat. "I want to draw you so badly."

Caitlin shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling a strange mixture of unease and exhilaration at her son's words. "Honey, the paper is right over there," she said, pointing towards the stack of drawing materials on the table. But Evan wasn't interested in the paper anymore; his gaze was fixed firmly on something else entirely.

Her purse dangled enticingly from the back of her kitchen chair, its white surface beckoning to him like a blank canvas waiting to be filled. Caitlin could see the desire in her son's eyes as he approached her slowly, still holding his crayon with an almost reverent intensity. "No... Mommy..." he whispered, his voice thick with longing. "I want to draw on something special."

Caitlin felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched her son approach, his eyes locked onto her chest before finally settling on her purse. She tried to dissuade him, suggesting that he use poster board from her office instead, but Evan was undeterred. He wanted something more personal, something that belonged to her and her alone.

"Evan, you don't want to ruin Mommy's purse," she protested weakly, but it was too late. The crayon was already moving across the pristine white surface, scribbling out a crude yet unmistakable likeness of Caitlin herself. This time, however, the body was more voluptuous, the curves exaggerated and sensual in a way that made her heart race with a mixture of excitement and fear.

Caitlin watched in silence as her son vandalized her personal item, feeling an odd sense of violation mixed with pride at his artistic progress. The face on the purse resembled hers far more closely than any of his previous attempts, but the body was wildly out of proportion, a testament to the raw and unbridled passion that now consumed him.

"Please don't," she whispered half-heartedly, torn between her desire to preserve her personal belongings and her unwillingness to stifle her son's creative impulses. But even as the words left her lips, she knew that it was already too late; Evan had made his mark, both literally and figuratively, and there was no going back now.

As Evan finished his drawing, he looked up at his mother with a strange satisfaction written all over his face. He felt closer to her than ever before, as if the act of defacing her purse had somehow forged an unbreakable bond between them. "You like it?" he asked huskily, his voice thick with desire as he lingered close to her, still clutching the crayon in his hand.

Caitlin struggled to find the right words, torn between her natural inclination to chastise her son for ruining her personal belongings and her growing appreciation for his artistic talents. "I don't like that you used my purse," she managed to say finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's a good drawing."

Evan smiled at her words, feeling a sense of triumph and validation that he had never experienced before. He stepped closer to his mother, still holding the crayon as if it were a talisman imbued with magical powers. "Thanks... Mommy..." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached for his erect penis, eager to explore this new and intoxicating connection between them even further.




...to be continued...

Chapter 2

In the heart of their cozy, art-filled home, Caitlin spent the day in a state of worry over Evan's peculiar behavior. The small purple face drawn on her shoe troubled her, yet she couldn't bring herself to wipe it away. Despite its crudeness, there was something precise and expressive about her son's marks. She wanted to praise him, but when Evan returned home that afternoon, she simply handed him a clean sheet of paper. "I can take an hour from work to watch you draw something," she offered, as the late afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the table.

Evan's face lit up with excitement. "Really, Mommy! You'll watch me?" He hugged her tightly, his small arms wrapped around her waist. "I want to draw with my penis again." His hands moved to unfasten his pants.

Caitlin tensed, her heart pounding in her chest. "Please use your crayon," she pleaded, her voice taking on a higher pitch. "I'll even sharpen the tip for you. Don't take off your clothes." She turned away slightly, unable to meet his gaze directly. "I don't want to see your penis. That's supposed to be private!"

Evan nodded reluctantly, his enthusiasm waning. He sat down at the kitchen table, his crayon poised over the paper. The room was filled with the ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the refrigerator. He glanced up at his mother before beginning to draw, his face falling when he saw her preoccupied expression. "Mommy, you promised to watch..." His voice trailed off, barely above a whisper.

Caitlin snapped out of her thoughts, guilt simmering as she realized she had been distracted by her work. The kitchen, filled with the aroma of their earlier lunch, seemed to echo with Evan's disappointment. "I'm sorry, I'm a little distracted," she admitted and forced herself to focus on the paper in front of him.

Evan's eyes lit up once again at his mother's renewed attention. He started drawing her face, his hand moving swiftly and confidently across the page. The purple crayon marks were dark and vibrant, standing out starkly against the white paper. Outside, the sounds of children playing in the distance filtered through the window, but Evan was entirely absorbed in his task.

"That's a good start, Honey," Caitlin encouraged, leaning closer to study the rough sketch. She could just barely make out her own likeness in the lines. The kitchen light cast shadows on the paper, emphasizing the depth of the crayon marks.

As Evan continued drawing his mother's face, a strange tingling sensation began in his penis. He didn't understand why it happened every time he drew her, but it felt like a secret power. His hand trembled slightly with excitement, making it harder to control the crayon.

Caitlin noticed his faltering progress and stepped in with encouragement. "Slow down and keep an eye on your subject," she advised, her voice gentle yet firm. "If you get too excited, you won't be able to focus." The ticking of the clock intruded upon their silent pauses.

Evan tried his best to contain himself, wanting to finish this drawing for his mother. But as he worked, his penis became more engorged, making it difficult to concentrate. He glanced up at her, eyes yearning. The crayon in his hand felt like a conduit for something more than just color on paper.

"That's better," Caitlin said, watching him closely. Yet, she could see the emotional intensity in his lines, making them thicker and less controlled than before. The kitchen seemed to grow smaller around them, filled with an unspoken tension.

Evan, unable to contain himself any longer, stood up and quickly took down his pants with one hand while still holding the crayon in the other. He grasped his hard penis and began stroking himself vigorously. "It's calling to me, Mommy," he declared, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "My cum wants to make art."

The sight of her son suddenly masturbating in front of her, took her aback! The kitchen light seemed too bright, illuminating every detail of the surreal scene unfolding before her. "Evan, how can that be?" she managed to ask, her voice barely recognizable as her own.

"It's my special touch, Mommy," Evan repeated, his breathing growing heavier. He aimed his penis at his drawing, and semen shot out, landing on the paper in an odd, abstract pattern around Caitlin's purple-lined features. The room seemed to spin around them as he continued, completely absorbed in his actions.

Caitlin watched silently immobile. The idea of semen in art was not new to her; artists in the past had used it. But this was her own son! It felt so shockingly wrong that all she could do was turn away and walk quickly to her bedroom, shutting herself inside to flee the wave of emotion threatening to lash out at Evan.

Still holding his dripping penis, called after her, "Mommy, look! The best art ever!" He ran to his mother's room but found the door locked once again. Undeterred, he waited patiently outside, his penis still hard and ready for more artistic expression.

Inside her bedroom, Caitlin struggled with her feelings. She knew she wasn't a prude, and she wanted to support her son's artistic endeavors. But this was different; it felt wrong in a way that went beyond societal norms or artistic taboos. The room seemed darker than usual, reflecting the turmoil within her heart. Unknown minutes passed between them, their emotions unchanging.

Evan knocked softly on the door, his voice pleading, "Mommy? Can we talk?" He still held his erect penis, hoping she would open the door and see the beauty in what he had created.

Dutifully, Caitlin went to the door and unlocked it, opening it just wide enough for her to peek out. The dim hallway light cast shadows on Evan's eager face as he stood there, waiting for her approval. "Evan, put your clothes on," she said firmly, trying to assert some sense of normalcy in their interaction.

But Evan was undeterred, holding up his semen-stained drawing proudly. "I want you to see my art — it'll make you proud, Mommy." He pushed the paper closer, his eyes shining with hope and excitement.

Caitlin sighed deeply, her heart torn between accepting her son's abrupt fascination with semen art and her need to be an ethical parent. She offered a compromise, "I'll look at it, but only if you put your clothes back on." Evan accepted her demand and hurried off. Caitlin picked up the artwork and took it to the living room, studying it under the soft glow of the table lamp.

The drawing was a mess. Caitlin sighs, trying find something about it that is worth complementing.

The semen had turned slightly yellow as it dried, creating an unusual effect against the purple crayon base. There was something almost mesmerizing about the way it glowed under the light, but Caitlin felt a cold sensation in her chest that made her shiver. She did notice that her son had managed to capture her hair better than he has previously. It wasn't enough to reassure the art critic part of her.

She had to find a way to redirect Evan's artistic expression before things spiraled further indecently, or her son would want to show off how he paints with his penis, again and again.

Evan returned to the living room, now dressed. "Do you like it?" He asks nervously, eyes on his mother's face. She's looking at it but doesn't seem excited.

Caitlin puts on a smile. "Your lines are getting better, but the crayon is so thick, it hides your improvement." She pats the couch cushion next to her. "Try using a colored pencil next time."

Evan nestled himself beside his mother on the worn, comfortable couch, the scent of crayons tainting the air. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over the cluttered living room. "Okay..." he said, leaning close to his mother. He plucked his purple crayon from his pocket, the tip worn down from frequent use, and began drawing on his mother's thumbnail.

Caitlin pulled her hand instinctively, but Evan held her wrist steady with his free hand. "Evan!" she exclaimed, her concern resounding in the high-ceilinged room. The walls were adorned with an eclectic mix of artwork, both hers and Evan's, creating a colorful backdrop to their interaction.

"Just a little something, Mommy," Evan said, continuing to draw on her fingernail. The purple crayon left thick marks that stood out against her pale skin, visible from across the room. The sound of the crayon against her nail was soft, yet it filled the quiet that fell between them.

Caitlin struggled internally, torn between her curiosity about her son's artistic endeavor and her sense of personal space. "Please stop, Evan," she said, her voice wavering slightly. The clock in the hallway ticked loudly, marking each second of their exchange. "You shouldn't be drawing on Mommy."

He giggled but didn't let go of her wrist. "You like it when I draw on things that are yours - because it's my art." Evan trusted his mother, and believing this made him feel grown-up and confident.

"What gives you that idea?" Caitlin studied her thumb. She remembered the crayon marks on her purse and shoe, still not cleaned off. Now her right thumbnail bore the same purple hue. It would be easy to rectify but figuring out a way to stop her son from marking other things was the problem. The afternoon light shifted slightly, casting longer shadows across the room.

"You let me draw on your purse... your oven mitt... your shoe..." Evan listed his 'artistic accomplishments,' his grin broadening with each item. The oven mitt lay forgotten on top of the dirty laundry in the corner, bearing the dried remnants of his earlier artistic endeavor.

"But I told you not to, and you went ahead and drew on them anyway!" Caitlin said, a hint of anger creeping into her voice. "You need to obey me!"

Evan's smile faded, his eyes dropping downcast. "You don't like my art anymore?" he asked softly, his hand slowly releasing her wrist. The room seemed to grow quieter, as if waiting for her response.

Caitlin sighed, her heart sinking a little. "This isn't about liking your art, Evan," she said, trying to find the right words. "It's about you respecting me." She glanced out the window, noting the changing colors of the sky as evening approached. "It's getting late again. Tomorrow, I will be happy to watch you draw with a colored pencil on paper. Okay?"

Evan looked up at his mother, his eyes sad but still hopeful. "Okay Mommy," he whispered. "I want you to like my art."

After Caitlin sent her son to bed, she stayed up looking at his last, paper drawing. Bright light issued from a small table lamp beside her. Something about the glow which the dried and yellowed semen gave to the purple crayon marks fascinated her. The distant hum of their refrigerator, a normal sound, comforted her in the quiet house.

Eventually, she placed the drawing on the coffee table and went to bed. The hallway was dark, the only light guiding her way coming from her bedroom door left slightly ajar. She considered washing her hands but decided to examine what he drew on her nail first. Laying in bed, the book lamp revealed the image of a tiny penis. It was surprisingly recognizable considering how thick the crayon was. The house settled around her, the familiar creaks and groans lulling her to sleep.

Evan sneaked into his mother's room, the floorboards cool beneath his bare feet. He saw that she was fast asleep, her steady breathing filling the quiet room. Quietly, he undressed himself and held his penis in one hand while taking a few steps closer to his mother. His eyes gleamed in the dim light cast by the nightlight plugged into the wall.

When Evan took her right hand slowly, Caitlin remained asleep, her breaths deep and even. The room was still, distant sounds of the city seeping in from outside.

Evan's semen shot out of his penis, landing on his mother's purple crayon-marked fingernail. He smiled at his handiwork before sneaking back out, the cool air of the hallway greeting him as he left her room.

Caitlin woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. The morning light filtered through the curtains, a soothing light to wake up in. She put on her robe and wandered into the bathroom. The tile floor chilled her bare feet until she took a shower. Most of Evan's cum residue washed off without her noticing it was ever there. Regardless, she decided she needed to talk to her son about the vulgar image however tiny.

She greeted Evan in the kitchen, when he wandered in, the scent of toast greeting him. "Sit down, Evan," she said, sitting with him at the table. She held out her purple nail. "You shouldn't be drawing penises. That's not acceptable art." The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the small kitchen and their breakfast.

Evan looked up at his mother, his eyes confident. "It's my style, Mommy," he said. "You said you like my crayon art. What I draw shouldn't matter."

Caitlin sighed! Her son kept thinking that she adored his works. She fought for the right words. "I said it's time for you to try using colored pencils." She picked up a slice of buttered toast and spread jelly over it. "They'll help you to learn more intimate techniques." She shuddered slightly, realizing her choice of words. Why did I say intimate when I meant intricate? The kitchen quieted.

Evan decided not to argue this time. "Can I draw on something else, Mommy?" he asked, looking at the back of her lovely hand. I'll try the pencils. The sunlight caught the small hairs on his arms, making them glow slightly.

Caitlin hesitated before responding. "I suppose," she said, resting her hand on the table between them. "You'll find them in my office. You know the drawer with all the art tools."

Evan got up and hurried to her office, his feet dancing down the hallway. He searched for the right tool but ended up returning with a purple chalk pencil. "This one's good, Mommy," he said, holding it up proudly. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window caught the purple hue, making it seem almost magical.

Caitlin looked at the purple chalk pencil, her heart sinking slightly. Purple? Again? She sighed, looking at the purple penis outline on her thumbnail. There was something different about it, a slight glow that seemed to emanate from within.

Evan took hold of her hand and got ready to draw, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Caitlin's heart beat fast and heavily as the outline of a penis formed under the chalk pencil's first, sustained stroke. She had trouble breathing when her son's intense gaze met hers and unexpectedly intimidated her! The penis took its full shape in only a couple of minutes which seemed like hours to her. The sound of chalk against skin, a soft scratching, filled her ears.

"That's better, Mommy," Evan said, stepping back proudly. "Now it matches your nail." His smile faded as he looked at his mother's face. "You don't look happy."

Caitlin struggled to find the right words. "How can I be happy when you refuse to do what I told you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes couldn't look away from the purple image on the back of her hand, a stark contrast against her pale skin. Her irises shrank, focusing entirely on the new penis drawing.

Evan pouted, his eyes filling with hurt. "You won't let me use my crayon, but now you're mad about the pencil? That's not fair!" he said, taking a deep breath. "I just want to draw what I want -- for you." His voice was small, almost lost in the quiet kitchen.

The awkward moment deepened as neither of them spoke, only stared combatively. Caitlin's resolve started to crumble before her son's glum pout. The sound of the doorbell ringing suddenly broke the silence, echoing through the house.

"That must be the mailman, Mommy!" Evan exclaimed, taking off running towards the front door.

Caitlin flinched in surprise when the visitor appeared. "Aline! You're early!" she called out, stood up and met her friend in the living room. The scent of flowers wafted in through the open front door, a pleasant contrast to the house's insufficiently tidied state.

"Hello, Evan!" Ms. Aline Subreni stood on the doorstep, her loose veils billowing slightly in the breeze. She was one of Caitlin's artists who sold their work on Caitlin's website. The taller woman's colorful sari-inspired yellow and orange dress fit right in with the art adorning the living room's walls. "I thought you would be at school by now." Her voice was warm and friendly.

Evan looked up at Ms. Subreni, studying her colorful clothing with wide-eyed fascination. "Mommy, she's here for your business, right?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

Caitlin looked at the clock in the hallway, noting the time. "Honey, let Mommy give you money for breakfast at your school," she said, taking her purse dangling from her chair and pulling out enough cash for breakfast and lunch. Walking up to the front door, she handed the cash to her son. Her natural scent reminded Evan of home. The purse caught the morning sun.

She greeted her colleague and friend. "Aline! You're early!"

"Have you been seeing a graffiti artist behind my back?" Aline asked playfully, feigning jealousy. The purple drawing of Caitlin's face shone from the glossy surface of her purse. "You must tell me everything!" she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Evan beamed with pride, his eyes shining brightly. "I drew that! Mommy let me use her purse!" he exclaimed before rushing off to get his books and backpack. His footsteps laughed down the hallway.

Caitlin sighed, looking at her friend with a mixture of exasperation and affection. "I didn't let him," she complained, ushering Aline inside. "Come in, Aline. How are you?" The living room grew warmer with her friend's presence, the colorful artwork on the walls seeming to come alive.

"My mercurial life seems boring compared to yours!" Aline exclaimed, her eyes widening as she noticed the back of Caitlin's hand. "Is that a dick?" she asked bluntly, pointing at the purple drawing. "And what's that on your thumb?" It was a rare chance to tease Caitlin, and she decided to make the most of it.

Evan rushed back into the room, his backpack slung over one shoulder. "I'll draw more, when I get home!" he called out before waving goodbye and running out the door.

Caitlin hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to her friend. But before she knew it, she was spilling the entire story of her son's growing transgressions. "Evan started by drawing a crude picture of his penis in the bathroom," she began, the act of confession releasing some of her parental anxiety.

"Then, he drew on my purse, my shoe, my oven mitt, my thumbnail, and this morning he drew another penis!" She refrained from confessing her son's overt masturbation and any mention of his semen, but she did point to the paper drawing on the coffee table that was 'enhanced' by Evan's sperm. The picture was the best one yet of her face, although quite crude. "What do you make of the strange way it seems to glow?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aline looked at the drawing, her eyes widening in surprise. "Wow! He sure is creative," she said with amusement. "It's crude but I like it! You must be so proud." She studied the picture more closely, noting the unusual quality of the yellowish substance mixed with the purple crayon. "It has something to do with the contrast between the purple crayon and that yellowish substance," she mused. "I've seen artists experiment with unconventional materials to get an interesting effect, but for an eight-year-old boy, um, this is new!" The living room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Caitlin's response.

Caitlin hesitated awkwardly before revealing the truth. "It's cum, Aline," she said suddenly, her voice filled with fright and desperation. Normally, Caitlin wouldn't be shy to talk about bodily fluids in art, but this was so personal, she steeled herself for the berating she felt she deserved. The living room stilled, waiting for Aline's reaction.

Aline's eyes widened in surprise, yet she didn't judge. "What!?" she exclaimed, taking a step around Caitlin to sit down on the couch. "He's been using his semen in his art?" She shook her head in disbelief, trying to process this new information. The room shifted around her as she processed the news.



...to be continued...