Unaware Upskirt.pdf

It was a warm summer evening and the sun had just set, casting a golden glow over the Johnson residence. Inside the house, Mrs. Johnson was busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner for her teenage son Tommy who was due home soon from his part-time job at the local grocery store.

Mrs. Johnson had been feeling frustrated with Tommy's behavior lately. At 15, he was at that rebellious teenage phase - always talking back, staying out late with his friends without permission, and constantly getting into mischief. She sighed heavily as she stirred the pot of stew on the stove.

Just then, Tommy burst through the front door, his backpack slung over one shoulder. "I'm home!" he called out, heading straight for his room. Mrs. Johnson called after him. "Dinner's almost ready, Tom! Get cleaned up."

Tommy grunted in acknowledgement but didn't appear. Mrs. Johnson pursed her lips in annoyance. This was typical of him lately - no respect, no manners.

She finished up in the kitchen and went to tell Tommy that dinner was ready. She opened his bedroom door to find him sprawled on the bed, glued to his phone as usual. "Tommy, dinner!" she said sharply.

He rolled his eyes and sat up. "Jeez mom, can't you see I'm busy? I'll eat in a minute."

Mrs. Johnson felt her anger rising. This disrespect was the last straw. Her eyes fell on a strange app icon on Tommy's phone screen. "Shrink Me" it said.

Intrigued, she picked up the phone and pressed it. The room filled with a blinding white light. When it faded, Tommy was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Johnson looked around in confusion, then down at the carpet. There, no bigger than an ant, lay her shrunken son!

She gasped and grabbed him, holding him close to her face. "Tommy! Is that you?" The minuscule figure waved its arms and shouted something, but she couldn't make out the tiny voice.

Suddenly, Mrs. Johnson had an idea. A wicked gleam came into her eye as she gazed at the tiny boy. With a smile, she set him down on the floor, a good distance away from her. Then slowly, carefully, she stepped out of her shoes. The tall black stilettos stood next to the bed.

Heart pounding with anticipation, Mrs. Johnson positioned the shoes by the miniaturized Tommy, making sure he was well under the ball of the foot. Then, with a swift downward motion, she brought her bare foot down hard on top of him!

There was a tiny scream of terror, then a sickening crunch as her weight flattened Tommy completely. A small spurt of blood oozed out from under her toes. Mrs. Johnson felt a rush of exhilaration and power. He was hers to control now.

She lifted her foot, looking down at the flattened smear that had been her son. Her heart raced. She'd never felt so powerful, so in charge. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.

Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Tommy's best friend Alex, come to pick him up to go hang out as they did every Friday night. Mrs. Johnson quickly wiped the bloody smear off her foot with a sock.

She opened the front door, plastering on a friendly smile. "Oh hi Alex, come on in! I was just making Tom dinner. He's upstairs." She ushered the boy inside, hoping he wouldn't notice her ashen face or shaking hands.

Alex went up to Tommy's room but was back down a minute later, an odd look on his face. "Um, Mrs. Johnson? Tommy's not up here...do you think he forgot I was coming over tonight?"

Mrs. Johnson's mouth went dry. Her hands began to tremble. "Oh yes, I'm sure he must have," she said, trying to keep the wobble from her voice. "You know how forgetful teenage boys can be. He's probably out with some other friends. I'm sure he'll turn up soon."

The boy looked uncertain but Mrs. Johnson ushered him out, promising to have Tommy call him later. As soon as the door closed behind Alex's retreating back, Mrs. Johnson collapsed against it, her breath coming in panicked gasps.

What had she done?! It had been an accident, she told herself. She hadn't meant to kill him, she'd only wanted to...to what? Control him? Punish him? Teach him a lesson?

Waves of nausea and horror washed over her as the reality of what she'd done sank in. Her son was dead. Crushed beneath her foot like an insignificant insect. And it was all her fault.

Tears streaming down her face, Mrs. Johnson dragged herself upstairs to the bathroom. She locked the door, then sank to her knees before the toilet and vomited violently, her body ridding itself of the horror and guilt that now consumed her.

Afterwards, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection. The hard, bitter lines around her mouth and eyes were new. The carefree, loving mother of yesterday was gone, replaced by a woman who had murdered her own child.

Mrs. Johnson knew then that she would never be the same again. The knowledge of what she had done would haunt her for the rest of her days. The light in her eyes was snuffed out, replaced by a bleak, empty darkness.

She was a mother who had killed her own son. And now, she would have to live with the consequences of that horrible choice for the rest of her life.