







The filing cabinets and computers sat stoic, alone in a silent office. The sun rays peeking in on nobody and nothing. Suddenly, the light explodes overhead and a noise penetrates the silence.





Footsteps.





And then the dust shifts, the tiles echo, as if a-





“Fuck!”





He came up the stairs perturbed that he had to be there again. The only one. If anyone was there to see it, they’d be able to see it on his face, even with the mask over his mouth. He was pissed off. It would have been humiliating even if his name were drawn from a hat. But no, he was chosen, handpicked by that bitch, as he saw her, punitively so, for his laziness and general incompetence.





He couldn’t even get a coffee on the way, not willing to risk it, so his first move in the empty office block was to head to the coffee machine and start brewing. As he stood impatiently over the dripping contraption, he wondered if his general malaise was from arriving to the office decaffeinated, and experienced he had never had before, or whether the indignity of his situation was affecting him psychosomatically. The only other alternative was too much of a kick in the ass to entertain. But what if? What if he had caught it?





“I’d like to serve that bitch a bite of my bat soup,” he growled, as he finally poured his morning coffee into his Greenbay Packers mug. “If I end up catching it because of her, I swear to god I’m pissing it back in her face. I should be at home sleeping. Just like everyone else.”





He looked over at your mom’s desk, disappointed she didn’t leave a thermos or even a spare toothbrush behind for him to rub his cock and balls all over. That would have made being the only employee to come in this week be actually worth it. That would show her, he thought. She hadn’t even left a pen behind. She only used her own. And her #1 Mom mug that he hated so much was nowhere to be seen.





She had told him that his name was drawn from a hat. What hat exactly? There wasn’t a single hat in the entire office. She targeted him for this, pinpoint picked him to be the only one to stay behind after everyone else got the next two weeks off, a precautionary step to stop the spread of corona. Paid vacation on top of the paid vacation the company already gave them. But, not missing an opportunity to squeeze every last penny out of the lemon of their workforce, they decided one worker could show up, not being able to spread the virus through an empty office, nor in proximity to anyone to be able to get the virus from himself. When your mom got the news, he was 100% sure that she took half a second to decide he’d be the one to stay.





She played coy and befuddled, but he wasn’t born yesterday. He sat at his desk, wound up like an impossible knot, filled with unreachable fantasies of hate fucking her pretty ass. “Why’d god have to put such a sweet, white ass on such a useless cunt?” He took a deep breath, then stretched out his limbs. Maybe that’s why he’s gotten started on Armageddon, he thought. “To punish us for letting these sugar cakes outside their box.” His cock started to get hard at his digression. “They should be sucking our cocks, not barking orders at us.” He smiled, and then he stretched his hands forth towards his keyboard.





Your mom did the same back home. Her big ass, clad in pink pajamas, like staying at home was her job and this was her uniform, sat in the cupped embrace of the computer chair at her desk.





Normally, spending time at home would be a gift to anybody. But your mom had three things that that threw a wet towel on all of it. The first being that fact that she was a workaholic. She wanted to continue working from home, but management put the red light on that, not wanting to burden her subordinates who would have to follow up with her work, as well as because they were worried that communicating solely through e-mails, rather than in person, would lead to miscommunication.





The other reason for her dourness, on this, what would otherwise be such a beautiful day, was her concern for her parents. Both of whom were in their late seventies. Twenty-one people had caught the disease in your city. fifteen of those in the last two days. She wasn’t scared for you, you being young and healthy and having nothing to worry about, and she definitely wasn’t scared for herself, and wouldn’t be even if she were 70. Not because she was arrogant, but because she was a rather selfless person who never put her own safety first.





The last cloud in her sky was the one she had to deal with the least in her entire life. It was guilt. Guilt at what she did to Him. She knew he didn’t buy the lie she tried to sell him. His name drawn from a hat? What hat? There were no hats in the office. She cringed internally when she spit that one out.





No, she had chosen him. Chosen him a quarter of a second after hearing management tell her that someone had to stay behind. Her logic? Well, they were already losing money paying him much more than the value he produced, that’s why he was being fired. Might as well keep him at it to slow down the hemorrhaging. Plus, she just didn’t like his snotty attitude, and how she had to tell him to do simple tasks so much and so often that she would be yelling at him after a few throws, in a way she wasn’t used to, just to get him to do his job. But most of all, she hated the way he glared at her ass. She could see it in her peripherals every second without fail. It’s as if he thought nobody could see him. Even if she couldn’t, everyone else could.





She took a slight glee at making him stay on the clock just for that, just like the glee she felt at finding out from management that he was to be fired for his next infraction, no matter how small. And knowing him, there’d be a rogues gallery of infractrions to choose from in no time. He’d be out of her hair, and she’d finally be able to walk from point A to point B through the office without being conscious that every single tick and jiggle in her butt cheeks was caught by his prying eyes. And then she could breathe again. She felt glee at all of it.





And it was this glee that must have transformed, mutating into a new strain within the witch’s brew of her dream that night, which caused her to wake up at four in the morning in a cold panic, sweating in her pajama bottoms, feverish with moral horror, as if she caught corona of the soul.





The way he was being fired, which she had no part in, but felt complicit in none-the-less. The fact that he was going to the office alone, while everyone else was hunkered in with their families, staying safe. The lie she told him, unconvincingly due to her lack of practice in that field. The joy she took as she drove home that Friday evening. The way she told you with relief and a sick schadenfreude that her worst subordinate was finally at the end of his rope. And her lack of conviction which led to her volunteering his body and mind to the prison of his workplace, instead of insisting she take that duty, a duty which she wouldn’t have minded much anyways. If anything, she would have enjoyed it.





And that was just it, she was past the point where she could claim it was only out of necessity which made her pick him out to stay. No, it was only cruelty on her part. That was the only explanation. And that realization was dragging her, kicking and screaming, from the comfort of rest now because of it.





She sat at the computer, ten past nine. If it weren’t for this pandemic, she’d have clocked in at work ten minutes ago. She took a sip of her coffee, which she swished around her mouth, which sat underneath her exhausted eyes. She opened up g-mail and took a look at her e-mails, hoping to get an e-mail from management, giving her the green light on another side of the project that she hoped wouldn’t cause too many problems. Something that could keep her mind off of self-examination.





Unfortunately no such e-mail existed.





She took another sip of her coffee from her #1 Mom mug and looked through her other mail. After finishing, being as thorough as she always was, she checked her spam folder, and that’s where she saw it. The subject line was his name. The e-mail that sent it was foreign to her.





When she opened it up, it only read “You might want to show up and surprise you-know-who. Let’s just say is he’s not stopped what he’s been doing, we might have a lawsuit in our future.”





Your mom’s eyes shot wide. She felt like such an idiot. She had recommended him of all people, letting her disgust in him dictate her plan of action, instead of considering the most obvious thing. Namely: was it responsible to give him access to the entire office all to himself? Thoughts of what he might be doing flashed through her mind. And management was apparently aware of it. So much so, they messaged her with one of their private e-mail addresses, likely a mistake made out of haste.





Her first thoughts were of a very practical and financial nature. He was stealing, wasn’t he? But if that was the case, it wouldn’t be a lawsuit management would be worried about. It would be their bottom line. So then he must be doing something wrong to another employee, or possibly a client. It took these thoughts to pass before your mom hit the bottom of her otherwise naive imagination, and had to dig even further down to think like Him. Maybe what he was doing wasn’t financial. Maybe it wasn’t even revenge based. Maybe it was…





She shuddered at the thought.





And in that instant, all the negative energy she woke up with that morning, the cloud hovering over her head, had been replaced by another cloud. The cloud of fear and self-doubt and anger. Anger which raged in her harder knowing that she wasted her morning feeling bad for this sack of garbage, not long before, as if on schedule, he proved that she was right to treat him like the trash he was.





She chugged back her coffee and marched to the kitchen, putting her white and red mug under the coffee machine. Usually she would grab one at Starbucks on her way to work but she didn’t want to risk catching anything. She would be taking a shower first, so by the time she came out, her coffee would be easy enough to drink in one fell swoop and she’d be off.

As the coffee maker ticked and dripped behind her, she headed down the hallway with a blue towel, when suddenly, your door shot open.





You stood there with a look of nervousness in your eyes. “Mom,” you asked.

“Yeah, sweety?” she asked back, without dropping her pace.





“Can I borrow the car this morning?”





“I’m sorry, babe,” she said as she entered the bathroom and threw her towel over the towel rack. “I have to get to work. It’s an emergency. Um, it’s nothing corona related or anything. But I just have to do something. Can you wait til this afternoon?”





“Are you sure you want to go to work, mom?” you ask. “It’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?”





“No, sweety,” she said, reassuringly, “it’ll be alright. There’s nobody there right now and I’m driving straight there.”





“Okay,” you said, and you closed your door. “No problem.”





As the steamy water washes her clean of all the newfound empathy she had developed for him, the soap squeezes out of her clenched fist and bounces of the wall, then down her side, off the arc of her butt cheek, making it fly horizontally, before hitting the wall behind her, and dropping dead. She turns around to pick it up, bending over to do so. When she picks up the mangled piece of soap, which now looked like modern art, she made sure to wash under her breasts and between her butt cheeks, the way she’s had to do for the last twenty years.





These things have always been such a burden, she thinks to herself. And today was no different. After all, she was convinced that it was those parts of her that had made today so stressful on so many counts. She had overheard him saying to a guilty and uninterested coworker that “those things” were the only reason why he hadn’t quit. She had caught the conversation midway, and had no way to be sure what “those things” meant. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew. Even under the warmth of the water, she shuddered thinking about it.





When she came back out of the shower, she used her towel to dry herself off, and then feeling like she didn’t have time to wrap it securely around her body, she ran with her towel hanging limply from her fingers, completely naked down the hall to her room. Your door was luckily shut tightly at this moment in time. She looked back at it to make sure as she ran, catching the reflection of her big ass in the hallway mirror as she did.





When she finally got dressed in her preferred work attire, she rushed to the kitchen, gulped back her coffee, which seemed to taste much more bitter cool than it did hot, and she grabbed her keys from the bowl at the front door and headed out, only saying “Sweety! I’m leaving now! I’ll be back before lunchtime!”





“Okay!” you yelled back just as the front door shut closed. You pulled your hand off your cock and started massaging your balls. Your bed sheets damp against your butt cheeks. The chalky residue in your hand felt electric when you start jerking your shaft again.





Your mom had to calm down. She was so angry it was making her dizzy. The car next to hers honked as it noticed her maintaining her speed, even as the light went red. Your mom jumped at the noise, and seeing the oncoming car in her peripheral, swerved out of the way just in time, avoiding the crash. She stopped at the next set of lights and caught her breath. She felt her sweating forehead and noticed it was hot.





A tinge of dread fell like a droplet into the clear milk of her mind.





“No, no,” she said out loud. “It’s just my anger. I’m fine.”





The car behind her, the same one that honked because she wasn’t paying heed to the red light, now honked because she wasn’t paying heed to the green one.

She stepped on the pedal, noticing it felt like a feather beneath her foot. She wasn’t feeling well at all. She was exhausted, and her office was at least fifteen more minutes away, even with the roads as empty as they were now. She put her head in her hand for what felt like a second, before lifting it again and seeing a terrified man standing before her. She slammed on the breaks, stopping within a few inches of hitting him. And when he passed, throwing out a “watch where you’re going lady,” your mom looked around and noticed she was only a block away from her office building.





Was this how it started? Had she really caught the corona virus?





Suddenly, as if without her help, her car parked, and she got out of it and headed for the front door, which felt like it was miles away, but with each step became much closer, as if her legs were miles long in height. When she finally reached the glass door, she pulled it open and slipped edgewise into the building, before stumbling up to the second floor.

As she got up the steps she heard sniffling noises. She wasn’t thinking about what they were. She wasn’t thinking much at all. But as she got up closer, the thought crossed her mind. Is he crying?





Concern and anger and confusion followed her up the stairs as the light of the second floor exploded into view, along with the unobstructed sound of the sniffling. And when her eyes adjusted to the source, she saw a man on his hands and knees, as if in desperation and horror. And then her eyes finally reached full focus.





He was on his hands and knees with his pants pulled down to his kneecaps next to your mom’s desk. With his left hand holding onto his erect penis and his right hand onto your mom’s chair, which his face was pressed into the seat of as he took in sharp breaths.

As your mom saw it, she suddenly felt her rage and disgust come back to her, all at once. Her punitive will and righteous indignation, the very same that had her choosing him to come to work while everyone else sat at home and enjoyed their time off. It was all back again, and even better, it was all justified.





And with that, feeling like this would be the very last time she’d ever yell at him, because he wouldn’t be coming back here ever again, she yelled “HEY!”





And just as soon and and suddenly as that rocketed out of her, just as swiftly, and just as he turned around, eyes wide with terror, to see her standing there, she suddenly dropped to the ground below.





He looked at her, horrified at the thought of what she’d do when she got back up. The seconds past. Her face against the ground and butt protruding above the rest of her as she lay dormant. Even now, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. Not until she lifted her head back up. Which should be happening any second now. Shouldn’t it?





“Umm” he started, preemptively. “I can explain.”





There was no answer. Your mom just sat there.”





“Are you okay?”





He got up from his hands and knees. And not even pulling up his pants up, he approached your mom, hard cock out and visible, and he when he stood over her, he nudged her hip with his foot. She sat there. Breathing, but immobile.





“Hello?” he asked, ever so slightly, as if he didn’t want to wake her up.





No answer came back.





He lifted his foot and stepped lightly on her butt cheek. It was soft and springy. “Please don’t wake up,” he muttered under his breath as he tugged erect penis, “please don’t wake up. Oh god.”





And because God was apparently on his side, or someone else was, she didn’t.

He leaned down to pick her up, and was electrocuted back to a second life as her limp, doll-like body came up without counter force.





“Oh god,” he said. “Somebody up there loves me.” And he began doing the only thing left for him to do.





Your mom could now stand, but she had no will or knowledge to fight back. She wasn’t there, but her physical self, which was everything he liked about her, was. Alone with his mental and physical self, which was everything she hated about him. There was no partition between the two of them now. Nothing to separate her being from his will.





It’s time to finally see it, he thought to himself. Oh god.





He lifted her skirt and saw her panty-clad ass. The best ass he had ever seen. He dreamed of seeing it like this. Just a peek. Just enough to say he did. Just enough to hold memories of what it looked like. But now it was here, inexplicably, and he knew it wasn’t all he was going to get to see. If he were being set up, the ambush would have been sprung by now. Sprung before he could get this far.





He moved her panties aside. She must have felt the fabric rub her butt cheek because her hand went back and instinctively grabbed it, pulling it away from the goods.

He gasped.









“Asshole and pussy,” he said, quietly, as if ticking off a mental check list. “Asshole and pussy.”





“On most days,” he said, whispering into her ear, “you treat me like an asshole. So today, I’m going to treat you like a piece of pussy.”









His cold hand made her jump. The room smelled now what he chair only hinted at minutes earlier.





“I knew I’d make you regret it. It’s time to take what you owe me. Open up.”









At home, you smeared crushed blue velvet all over your cocks, balls, and thighs. Your mom’s gmail was still opened on the computer across from you, the e-mail you sent her from your freshly made account still on the screen.





You had questioned whether you had bought the real stuff until your powdered hand had touched your cock back in your bedroom and you could feel the whole lower half of your body go electric. You had put enough of it in your mom’s coffee to knock out a wild colt. And your mom had left the house almost as soon as she had downed the mug. She almost certainly made it to her office before the drug could work its magic in her.









You took the largest sigh of relief in your life when you came out to the kitchen and saw that #1 Mom mug empty on the counter, black coffee ringed around the bottom, with the inside stained blue. You pressed your middle finger into the bag of blue and began massaging your taint as you thought about the assortment of heinous things he was doing to your mom now.





After all, he had a year’s worth of anger to work through, and the whole of your mom to work it out on. And you had your very own cock all to yourself to work on within the safety of your own home. Hermetically sealed in this moment. Clean and disease free. Just like your conscious.





You nut inside the seat of your mom’s pajama bottoms. You lie in your own satisfaction, looking down at the blue lower half of your body. “What an amazing day,” you tell yourself.

“And all it took was an apocalypse to make it happen.”





After he nuts on your mom’s face, he begins to cough. When he finally gets a hold of himself, he says “consider this my resignation, bitch.”





He pulls on his pants and clothes and heads out, leaving your mom lying like a heap of garbage on the ground. The lights turn off.





Your mom lay stoic, alone in a silent office. The sun rays peeking in on her and her naked ass. Suddenly, the light explodes overhead and a noise penetrates the sound of her breathing.





Footsteps





And then the the cum drips, her butt jiggles, as if a-





“Mom!?”





You came up the stairs excited that you were there. The only one. If anyone was conscious to see it, they’d be able to see it on your face, even with the mask over your mouth. You were ecstatic. It would have been erotic even if you hadn’t planned any of this. But no, it was by your design, handpicked that creepy asshole, as your mom saw him, eagerly so, for his laziness and general incompetence.





You come up to your mom, your thighs chafing exotically against your jeans, spurred on by the powdered blue. Your mom a sad, defeated heap below you.

You gasp in delight.





You take her out into the dead air as she is, with her spit and cum-tarnished skirt and dress shirt in your other hand. Her ass is fat and bare over your shoulder, but there’s noone working today to see it. You get her in her car and take her home.





You wash her off in the shower, put on her blue pair of pajamas and tuck her into bed. Then you spend the next few hours in your room. Tired, not believing that you actually did it. That it actually happened to you, and you had made it so.





By night, she must have forgotten that she had even left the house, or about the e-mail, because she just sat at the dining room table writing a letter to her parents. When she was finished, she put it in the envelope, licked and sealed it before heading out to send it.

While she was gone, you took the time to go to her still-open gmail account and delete your message to her, effectively burying the only smoking gun.





When she got back, she had a different e-mail, this one actually from the head office saying that one of her employees checked in that morning, and checked out a few hours later, and never came back. As she read the message, she began coughing. The next morning, she was the one who showed up to work. Diligently so, with a smile on her face. The empty office gave her the strange feeling of deja vu. And she couldn’t help but have the creeps. It felt as if she were being watched. Like her ass wasn’t safe in this room and it never would be, even without him being here to gawk at it.





As she tried to shake that creeping feeling by diving into her work, she began to cough.

Two days later, she was at home sick, and, at the same, trying to deal with the news that her parents had gotten the illness themselves. She was so horrified that she didn’t even bother telling her parents that she also caught the virus. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of their recovery process, not even their concern for her.





One day, you heard her hacking in the shower as you hacked your lungs out in your room. Suddenly, the phone began ringing. The shower shut off and your mom opened up the door and ran down the hall, wet, soapy and naked. You watched her juicy, wet cheeks from your doorway, trying to hold back your coughing so you could admire her without being noticed.

When she picked up the phone, she said desperately, and with a flu-like husk in her voice, “Hello?”





After a few seconds of blank silence, she said, ominously, “yes… this is her. I’m his daughter”





And her next response, as if falling out of nowhere, was to wail uncontrollably.

As you watched her fall to her knees, slowly lowering her forehead til it touched the carpet, her big naked ass in the air, you slunk back into your room and sat, with your naked ass on the bed. You began tugging your hard cock.





“Daddy, no!” she screamed outside, loudly and horribly enough to make your cock twitch, but not enough to make you stop.





“Mommy, yes,” you whispered. You held your left fist over your mouth to cough on, as you used your right to wail on your cock.





You and your mother were coughing in unison now. Her while she rocked back and forth on the ground, with her fat ass jiggling in the air, and you on the comfort of your back, massaging your throbbing cock. Her face full of tears, yours with an ecstatic smile.

You thought back to when you were in school. The way your bullies made you feel helpless. Powerless shrinking within their eclipsing shadows. Now here you sat, fiddling with your dick as Rome burned. Oh, how the tables have turned.





Because now you knew that while the world might be ending. At least now, it was ending on your terms. And what more power is there than that?