This story is dedicated to AberrantScript, as something he said in a private message a few days ago inspired it. I forget the context, but he asked, perhaps rhetorically, what would make Rita fall in love with her son. My first thought was, she'd have to be crazy, so here we are, alone in the dark with yandere Rita.

This is a very dark story. Reader discretion is advised.

Every day for over a week, while her children were at school, Rita Loud came home for lunch and went methodically through their rooms, looking for evidence of incest.

It was inevitable, really, with five hormonal teenage girls and a handsome young man like Lincoln living under the same roof. She realized that when she found out she was carrying a boy instead of another girl. After she had him and her oldest daughters gathered excitedly around her bed, she scanned their glowing faces and thought one day, one of you little sluts is going to try something with my Lincoln...and I'll punish you...severely.

During her daily searches, she found incriminating evidence in every room. Why was Luan's sock under Luna's bed? She imagined it slipping off her daughter's foot in the heat of passion while she and her sister made love to each other...practicing what they would do to Lincoln. Why was Leni going through so much underwear? Was Lincoln pulling out and cumming into them? She lifted them to her nose and sniffed deeply, but could not detect the scent of sperm.

And the condoms in Lori's drawer, hidden under her shorts...who's using these on you, Lori? A vision of her oldest slipping into Lincoln's room in the middle of the night and riding him until he swelled and filled the condom flittered across her mind, and she gritted her teeth. She took a thumbtack from the wall and poked a hole in each one. If you want my Lincoln so bad, here you go.

On Friday, December 14, Rita came home for her inspection with a scowl on her face. Something had been on her mind for the past couple days: Lynn Jr. She was getting awfully chummy with Lincoln. Every evening for the past week and a half they played football in the backyard, throwing the ball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth for sometimes two hours at a time. Lincoln often played football with his sister because he was a kind and caring boy and none of his other siblings would play with Lynn, but he did it out of obligation. Over the past week and a half, however, he looked like he was actually enjoying it. Rita watched through the patio door, her arms crossed and her lips pursed. Lynn Jr. was most likely doing sexual favors for him. Hey, Linc, if you play ball with me I'll suck you off.

That made Rita furious. What kind of disgusting girl does that to her brother? She could imagine them under the back porch, Lincoln's pants around his ankles and Lynn's head bobbing up and down between his legs. It made her so angry she shook.

Today, she started in Lynn's room, looking under her bed, in her drawers, between the mattress and the box spring, in her closet, in the vent over her bed, along the baseboard. The only thing she found was a Hustler magazine. She obviously read it for ideas. Oooo, look at this. If I do that it'll drive Lincoln wild. Rita trembled with rage as she clutched the magazine in her fist. She took it into the hall and threw it down the stairs. She and Lynn would have a long talk about this when she got home.

Rita would punish her. Severely.

Next she went into Luna and Luan's room. She pulled out their drawers and searched through their dirty clothes hamper. There was a peculiar stain in the crotch of a pair of Luna's underwear. Who did this? Luan or Lincoln? Her vision blurred with anger and she shoved it back into the hamper. On her way out the door, she knocked Luan's dummy off her dresser. God only knows what the unfunny little whore did with it at night.

In Lori and Leni's room, she found more condoms, and poked holes in them. She checked Leni's underwear drawer and found it empty. The little cunt! She went over to the hamper, dumped it, and took every pair of Leni's panties she could find. Downstairs, she shoved them into a Hefty bag, tied it off, and took it out to the trash can. You can go pantyless, you little slut, not that you'll mind: Lincoln can have easier access that way. Back inside, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it: The glass shook in her hand. How dare I have a son, right? How dare I have a boy I can call my own and love and cherish and adore? She knew those little twits would try to take her Lincoln away from her. She hoped she was wrong, but every day it became more apparent. She saw the way they looked at him, their eyes hungry and their tongues flicking across their chops. The younger ones were too stupid to appreciate the awesome pleasure of sex, but one day they would go into heat like their sisters, and she would have six, seven, eight of them to worry about.

Lincoln was too good for them...far too good for them. They were lucky Lincoln even stooped to give them the time of day. She drew a deep, shuddery breath. She could forgive him for giving into them. He was a boy after all; he couldn't help it. It was those bimbos fault. Everything they did was meant to tempt him, from the night clothes they wore (Luan's thin white nightgown, Lori's shorts and tank top...no bra underneath, of course) to the things they said. Hey, Linc, wanna play ball?

Lynn was the worst, Rita decided. She was the most persistent. Lori was a close second because she was the oldest. Leni...well...Leni's mental disability prevented her from fully understanding what she was doing, but she gladly followed along behind the others like a rat behind its pied piper. Five. Five temptresses all vying for her son, her Lincoln. She would not stand for it, she simply would not.

The hammer's going to drop very soon, she thought as she rinsed out her glass and sat it in the drying rack, and when it does, there will be nothing of you left.

She left the house, climbed into the van, and drove back to work, struggling the whole way to put back on the happy mask she wore each day. By the time she parked, she had it on, but it was getting harder and harder each day...

"Hey, Linc!" Lynn cried, tumbling down the front stairs of Royal Woods Consolidated. Lincoln, his thumbs hooked through the straps of his backpack, stopped and waited for her. "How's it hanging?"

Lincoln shrugged. To be honest, he'd been better, but he'd also been worse. There was a winter dance on the 20th that he really wanted to ask Ronnie Anne Santiago to, but at lunch, she specifically mentioned how lame it would be and how she'd rather shove rusty nails into her eyeballs than go. That disappointed him greatly. He really liked Ronnie Anne, and asking her to a dance, and actually dancing with her, would show her that, which he wanted to do rather than tell her. He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking of ways to get her to go with him, and finally decided on this: He would tell her they were going to "crash" the dance...and maybe even spike the punch or something. He thought she'd like that idea.

"Short and shriveled?" Lynn asked.

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "What?"

Lynn blinked. "You know...it...? Never mind. The big game's tonight, you gonna be there?"

The Royal Woods Bobcats, Lynn's football team, were playing the Warrenton Raptors. Lincoln could think of a million things he'd rather do than sit on a cold bleacher in the middle of December and watch a rousing game of chase the ball for four quarters, but he would be there to support his sister.

"Of course," he said. "Freezing my butt off."

They were walking along the sidewalk now. The sky was the color of dirty dishwater and the barren trees flanking the way knocked together in the frigid wind.

"You know, we need a mascot. You'll be in a suit, nice and warm, jumping around..."

Lincoln barked laughter. There was no way in hell he was going to dress up like a giant football with googly eyes and dance like an idiot every time the home team made a touchdown. "Not gonna happen," he said.

"Aw, come on," Lynn said. "You don't wanna be part of a team?"

"No."

"You're a dweeb."

"You're a doofus."

Lynn shot her arm out and hit Lincoln on the shoulder. He cried out as pain enveloped him.

"How did you know my favorite drink was punch?"

They both turned as Luan walked up. She was holding her books to her chest, her teeth chattering.

"You want a glass?" Lynn asked playfully.

"Uh...not right now. I just had some apple juice."

Together they crossed at an intersection guarded by a black woman in an orange and yellow vest.

"I'm really looking forward to the game," Lynn said, jumping around and pretending to catch a football. Holding it under one arm, she shoved Lincoln out of the way as though he were an opposing player.

"Stop!"

"Oh, don't be a baby," she said, spiking the imaginary ball against the sidewalk.

"Be careful, Lynn," Luan said, "you might make him wet his diaper."

Oh, here we go again, Lincoln thought. Another roast session.

"I have an extra baba in my gym bag in case he starts crying."

Luan patted him on the back. "Let me burp you, Linc."

Lincoln pulled away. "Knock it off, guys." If there was one thing his sisters all loved to do, it was roast him. They did it to each other too, sure, but ganging up on him was the only activity they all enjoyed, and they did it often. He usually let it roll off his back, but every now and then it got really old, and played on his nerves.

"Uh-oh," Lynn said, "here come the waterworks."

"You better grab that baba."

Screw this. Lincoln started walking faster, hunching against the chilly wind.

"We better not let him walk by himself," Luan said. "He might get kidnapped by a child molester."

"Hey, little boy," Lynn said in a deep voice, "I like your white hair."

"Does the carpet match the drapes?"

"You so tight, boy."

Lincoln walked faster. When he looked over his shoulder, they were two blips in the distance. Lynn waved, and Lincoln flipped her off.

Five minutes later, he walked through the door and started to slip out of his backpack.

"Hi, honey!"

He jumped and uttered a cry. His mother was standing there with her hands on her ample hips, a smile on her face. "How was your day?"

"Good," he said, calming down. He hung his backpack on one of the hooks behind the door.

"Are you hungry? I can make you a snack if you like."

"No, thanks," Lincoln said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, thanks anyway."

He mounted the stairs, but did not feel his mother's lustful gaze boring into his back.

When Lynn and Luan came through the door, Rita whipped around, her expression hardening. Her daughters saw, and instinctively fell back a step. Every once in a while, their mother got...strange. That was the only word to describe it. Her temper would be short and she would mete out harsh punishments for the smallest infractions. Lori said she only got that way after Lincoln was born, and only then because of the post-partum depression, which apparently flared up from time to time.

"You, young lady," Rita said, glaring at Lynn, "have been giving me nothing but problems for weeks now."

Lynn blinked. Next to her, Luan was frozen.

"But, Mom," Lynn fumbled, her heart starting to race, "I haven't done any..."

"Your grades are slipping," Rita said sharply.

"My grades are fi..."

"And today I find pornography in your room?"

Lynn blinked. Shit. She found the Hustler? But how?

"Mom, I can..."

"I've already talked to your coaches. You are off all your sports teams for the rest of the year."

Lynn's heart shattered. Not her sports teams. Without sports, her life was meaningless. "Mom," she begged, tears coming to her eyes, "please, I..."

"Go to your room. Now." She stabbed a finger at the stairs.

Beginning to cry in earnest, Lynn ran up the stairs and disappeared.

Luan watched her mother warily, the way one might watch a coiled snake. Rita turned to her, and she cringed. "And you can go to your room too. It's the middle of winter and you're wearing a skirt. Who does that?"

Rita clucked her tongue disgustedly and walked away.

Luan sighed. It was going to be a bad couple of days. She could feel it.