Brewed

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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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NOTE: All character herein that partake in sexual acts are aged eighteen or older.

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Adam wasn’t at all that happy. If all the places he wanted to be, where he was right now wasn’t one of them. He’d rather stay at home to play games, ‘hang’ with his girlfriend Cassie and watch TV. But the wheel of fate truly hadn’t spun in his favour on this occasion.

“But Mum, you have no idea how bored I’ll be here” Adam complained. He hoped his Mum Heather would see reason. If she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave him with his grandmother, Florence. That wasn’t to say Adam didn’t love her, or she him. It was just…there really was quite a difference in age between them both, and with that came the occasional contrast in opinion about various things.

“Don’t be silly, Adam. You and your grandmother will get on just fine.” Heather could see the distraught look on her son’s face all too well. Heather wished she could take him with her, but as with them all, it was against her company’s policy to allow employees to take their children with them to important investors’ meetings. Especially when said meetings just so happened to be abroad. So in spite of his boredom that would stem from staying with them, Adam would need to stay at his grandparents’. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ll spend most of your time with your Grandfather making those models. Right?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m not eight anymore, Mum.” He turned to peer through the glass in the hallway door that led into his grandparents’ living room, where Florence was sat on her chair cheerily knitting away, making who knows what, and Albert Adam’s grandfather sat on the large couch, sipping his coffee as he watched the football game, occasionally spouting the odd swear word here and there. They truly were like a standard geriatric couple.

Adam was insistent, regardless. “Mum, please, take me back to the house. I’ll watch Charlie and the house and do the chores until you come back.” Frankly, Adam was desperate, knew boredom would creep up on him like a stalking, predator animal. But the face his mother expressed suggested she just wasn’t impressed with his pleading. But she had an ultimatum, an ace up her sleeve. One he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Look. If you can ‘survive’ here for the two days I’m supposed to be away”—Heather reached into her handbag and whipped out two £10 notes—”I’ll double your pocket money when I come back.”

In essence, Adam was being bribed by his own mother. Sure, it wasn’t the first she did it. Adam was initially going to accept her offer, but thought better of it first. He crossed his arms. “For how long?” His brow was raised, suggesting curiosity.

“If—and only if—you do this; you can consider it permanent.” Heather saw Adam’s curious, curved brow rise higher. “But if I get a phone call from your Grandmother saying you’re causing trouble, I’ll half your pocket money. That sound fair to you?”

Adam had a lot to think about. If his pocket money were doubled, he could finally buy Cassie that ‘little’ necklace she’d been badgering about that was on sale. But if the money were halved, his chances of getting the necklace would be like that too. But the fact remained he would only get the money of he stayed with his grandparents for the weekend. “Yes.”

Heather smiled at her son, passing the two £10 notes over to him, happy he took the enticing offer she presented to him. “Thank you. Now”—she put her hand on the knob of the living room’s door, but didn’t open the door itself—”Do you remember the instructions I gave you before we arrived here?”

Adam rolled his eyes. His mother had repeated the instructions often enough within the last hour, they were basically imprinted into his brain by now. “Yes. Do anything Gran asks of me; if she asks me to make her a cup of tea, make sure it’s to her preference; and be a good boy.” The last instruction was what stung Adam the most. It sounded like he was a bad person at heart and still acted like a child. His mother knew he wasn’t. It was just that his grandparents would better confide with him if he acted as instructed: like a good boy.

Heather smiled at Adam again, pulling the living room door open. “I’m heading off now, Mum.” She announced, peering over to Florence, who smiled in turn as she pulled herself up from the chair. Age was starting to get to her, but she was a giddy soul.

As always, Albert was too focused on the football match to give a proper farewell to his daughter, the hope of his favourite team winning the match. While not much of a football fan himself, Adam had eavesdropped on the match while his Mum and Grandmother chatted away about all kinds of things. His Grandfather’s team was already down one man and had overshot a penalty, not to mention losing one-nil to the opposing team.

“You be safe over there Heather.” Florence gave Heather poker oyna a tight, warm hug, then a parting kiss on the cheek.

Heather laughed softly, rubbing her spine as she pulled away from her mother. “I’ll be fine. It’s just an investors’ meeting in the States.” It was only then that fact finally hit the woman. She’d never been at an investors’ meeting before, nor had she been in the States. Sure, she’d spent a great deal of time preparing for that moment, but it wouldn’t be enough. She’d just have to power through the stress.

Heather’s car beeped as its doors unlocked, on cue with the cheers from her father in the living room.

“Looks like his team finally scored.” Florence laughed.

Heather climbed into the car and buckled her seatbelt. She heaved a breath. The future she worked for rested on her shoulders, weighing her down, but she still managed to offer Adam that final, loving smile she drove off.

—

“Here’s your room, Adam”—Florence pulled the door open, revealing the bedroom behind it, which was adorned in the same childish wallpaper from all those years ago. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but also what Adam had to live with for the next two days—”Just the way you left it.”

Adam made a few noteworthy observations about his bedroom, aside from the wallpaper: his bed was still the same from years’ past, meaning it was now too small for him to sleep in properly; there was no TV, so now he was going to be even more bored than he already was; and there was a random weight set in the corner of the room. It was considered random because it wasn’t there the last time Adam slept there. Or was it? It had been so long ago since then.

“That was your Uncle Danny’s, you know. Once he got too weighed down by his work, it was stored here.” Florence moved over to the weight set and held one of the dumbbells for just a moment before putting it down again. “I’ll let you into a little secret,” she said, turning back to Adam.

His heart sank, dreading to think what his grandmother could possibly tell him that would be considered a secret. But for the sake of the enjoyment that would come with it, Adam decided to play ball. “A secret?”

Florence nodded. “When it got stored here, it naturally got a little bit dusty from not being used. And you know what I’m like about things getting a little dusty.”

Adam started to regret getting into his grandmother’s little secret, wondering if it wasn’t actually going to be worth it, dreading to think, if it were a joke, its punchline would be non-effective.

“So, once they got cleaned up, I decided to play with them a little bit,” Florence continued.

Adam blinked. His grandmother lifted the weights? How old was she again?

She rolled the sleeve of her nightie up, revealing a bicep the size of a small lemon, decorated with vascularity and striations. “Impressive, no? Your grandfather doesn’t know about it because we sleep in separate rooms. Can you imagine his face if he did?”

Adam was, naturally, speechless. Even though they were only the size of lemons, his grandmother had bigger biceps than him! And she was at least twice his age!! “Um…”—he gulped, not quite sure what to say—”I would imagine he’d be quite surprised.”

“No.” Florence now played her trump card, smiling as she pulled her night up to reveal her quads, which were again bigger than Adam’s own – they were almost like nothing but bone in comparison!! “Now he’d be surprised.”

Adam nodded. It was hard to disagree with his grandmother’s statement.

Stressing the point she was trying to make even further, Florence slapped her right quad with all her strength, causing a slight echo to emit across the hallway, before gripping the evidently impressive muscle with the hand she used. A moment of duty-bound, wide-eyed staring from Adam later, Florence shook that same quad with a grin.

She sure was strong and apparently buff for a 65-year-old. Adam dreaded to think what things would be like if she were even bigger.

Florence peered upwards at the clock on the wall. It was 23:45. “Good Lord, would you look at the time! It’s almost bedtime for me.”

Adam smiled in spite of the surprise that still lingered in him. “Good night.”

“Would you like me to tuck you in?” Florence smirked, knowing what she just said would embarrass the life out of Adam. And right on cue, his face turned beet red with embarrassment following her words.

“No. No, I’m fine, thanks.” Adam rubbed his neck. Luckily the window was open, so his flushed face would clear up in time.

Florence laughed with a tooth grin as she headed for the door. “You might want to treat that erection of yours, while I’m gone.” She closed the door with a definitive click just as Adam noticed his erection.

Adam sighed. That was probably the most embarrassing moment in his life.

His embarrassment only heightened. Now, Adam was never a big guy and he knew that, but to be outsized by someone at least canlı poker oyna triple his age was clear grounds for awkwardness. But then he thought about it for clearly. His grandmother was a pensioner, someone who clearly had a lot of free time in her hands, so like Adam she’d end up getting bored from having not done anything to eat up some it.

But then Adam remembered that other problem he’d soon be faced with, turning to the undersized bed. “Damn it.”

—

In the early hours of the next morning, Adam sat on the couch next to his grandmother watching the news. Specifcally, a report about the possibility of pension cuts. It wasn’t the most interesting thing on the TV for Adam’s tastes, admittedly, but he knew it was important to his grandmother, or at least women of her age. She wasn’t scraping at the bins with what she had for a pension, nor would she even after its potential cuts, but it was still somewhat disheartening to hear.

“Adam, would you mind making me a cup of tea” Florence turned with a grin. They both knew she could do it herself. Florence simply asked Adam to do for her so to see if he was capable of making tea without supervision. That, and she knew Adam was to do everything she asked of him. That wasn’t to say she intended to work him like a slave. “Use the new Lotus Blend I got yesterday.”

Pulling himself up from the couch, Adam groaned. Admittedly, he was happy his grandmother asked him to make the tea. There was only so much more of the news he could handle, and it wasn’t much.

Adam crossed the door’s threshold and entered the kitchen. He had to think for a moment. Where did his grandmother keep the teabags again? “Cupboard next to the cooker,” he whispered softly. With the cupboard open, Adam searched within it for the Lotus Blend teabags, but there were all sorts of things in the way: bottles of pills and such.

“Gran, are you sure the teabags are in here? There’s all sorts of sh”—he stopped suddenly, knowing his grandmother wasn’t someone who liked profane words—”Stuff in here.”

Florence laughed. “Up top. The Lotus leaf packaging, you can’t miss it.” Being in the kitchen, what Adam was completely unaware of was his grandmother unabashedly flexing her biceps in the living room mirror with boundless energy. “Did you find it?”

“Got it.” Adam whipped out a mug, the sugar and milk as the kettle slowly boiled away. Luckily, he remembered his grandmother liked two spoonful’s of sugar in her tea. He read from the carton of teabags curiously. “‘Rejuvenate your body with a blend containing antioxidant ingredients from the mountains of Eastern China.'”

If he forgot and asked her to remind him, Adam would’ve found his grandmother with the bottom of her nightie up, examining her quads and calves.

—

A few moments later Adam returned with the cup of tea and gave it to his grandmother, who was sat on the couch again. The tea itself smelled of mint, filling the boy’s nostril with a powerful stinging sensation.

Adam sat down again, relieved the TV’s channel had been changed over to something somewhat more interesting: a cookery show.

Florence took a sip from her mug. It burnt her lip only slightly, but nothing to take grievance over. “Ahhh.”

“How is it?” Adam was genuinely concerned about how he served the tea. He didn’t it himself, he was more of a coffee guy, and his mother was able to make it herself with no issues.

“It’s great, considering it’s my first time drinking it.” Florence feel the warm liquid flow down her throat from swallowing her second mouthful.

Adam was pleased, showing a smile as he watched his grandmother take another satisfying sip, lifting her arm up to drink— Did the fabric of her nightie just shift? No. No, it was just the morning light. He was woken up at 7am, after all.

The nightie moved again, slightly audibly so this time. Florence was oblivious to this, too busy drinking the tea to actually notice what was happening to her. Adam panicked and was going to say something, but— the shifting stopped, almost as if it never happened at all. Maybe it really was the morning light, in the end.

That’ll be the last time I get up this early, Adam said to himself.

—

Adam climbed out of the bed with a groan, his eyes slowly adjusting to the morning light. Frankly, he didn’t sleep all that well during the night from tossing and turning and the same thought swirling around in his head: did Gran really grow, or was it just the early morning light? He hoped it was the latter, dreading to think what things would be like that fine morning if he were to find his grandmother standing over the cooker with a wider frame whilst she made a fry-up of princely proportions.

The weight set still sat in the corner of the room, all cleaned up and shiny – spotless like it had been dusted obsessively. Florence did it in the early hours of the morning while Adam still slept, creeping in like a burglar. Florence was a tinge tempted to internet casino lift for a minute or two just to get a pump going, but decided against it, knowing it could’ve potentially woken Adam.

—

After his shower Adam headed downstairs, the ever glorious scent of bacon sizzling on the frying pan drifting through the air. Oh, how he loved the smell and texture; smoky, dark brown and crisp. There were eggs on offer too he realised; scrambled likely, accompanied by fried bread, tomatoes and a side of baked beans. In essence, Adam woke up to the very scent of bliss itself. And he couldn’t wait to get his own little slice of it. All the windows were shut so none of the smell could leave the house. It was a method strategically employed by Florence as a means to wake Adam up and entice him with the food.

“The dead awake,” Florence said cheerily, flipping the bacon over with a pair of tongs. There was a lone plate to her side packed with a ridiculous amount of bacon, eggs, tomatoes – the base ingredients for a fry-up. It was almost like a small mountain of sustenance. A literal heart attack on a plate, almost.

That was when the smell really hit Adam. It was so pungent and strong it could almost put him off fry-ups altogether. “Bloody hell. Can you open a window or something?”

“Sure.” Florence leaned forward to open the Awning window in front of her. This caused the woman’s calf muscles to pop underneath her nightie. Adam couldn’t see it, but Florence felt it. As the window squeaked open she pulled back, returning to her duty at the frying pan. “There we go.”

Adam sat at the table, where two sets of cutlery were positioned alongside two empty mugs; one with the phrase ‘World’s Greatest Grandson’ imprinted onto it, the other was just a generic white mug. He didn’t have to hazard a guess which mug was his. But he was twenty-one, not eight. Adam still doubted why he was staying at his grandparents’ at all. He was more than old enough to stay home on his own, and certainly didn’t need to be babysat. This wasn’t his humiliating punishment for smoking that weed last week, was it?

Florence filled the kettle with a fresh litre of water and started boiling it with the simple flick of its switch. And that’s when Adam saw it: the open box of Lotus Blend teabags sitting contentedly on the kitchen counter next to the biscuit tin. He dreaded to think if they did have some form of connection it, and it was something that really happened, the teabags helped Florence’s body grow. It was even worse for Adam the previous night when he took an embarrassing natural reaction to seeing her muscles. That was just wrong. Or wasn’t it? Florence didn’t hold any form of kinship with him. But for him to be attracted to someone so mature—

“Say, um… where’s Grandpa?” Adam had to do something, anything to get his mind off the teabags, off his grandmother. He watched her put a Lotus Blend teabag into her mug, then the boiled water, sugar and finally the milk. This was all a painful moment for Adam to witness. What if it really was the tea that made her change? No. No, that would’ve been absurd. Things like that couldn’t possibly happen.

Florence sat her mug of tea and fry-up on the table and smiled at Adam. “He’s out for his morning walk, away to get the day’s newspapers. He’ll be back soon.”

Adam nodded. Then it struck him. He didn’t notice it at first. How could he, with all the thoughts and concerns swirling around inside his head? His grandmother actually was bigger. Not huge, but noticeably larger than she was the day before. He guessed the latter dreadful thought he had from earlier that morning turned out be more prophetic than he imagined.

“All of that’s for you. Your grandfather’s had his breakfast” Florence declared, referring to the plate of fried food. “And we need to put some meat on those bones of yours.”

Adam knew he didn’t need beefed up at all. Well, a little muscle here or there wouldn’t hurt. But the general consensus was he wasn’t skinny by any means, nor was he fat. In fact, he was rather average in appearance. Still, even if he couldn’t eat it all, it would be a shame for him not to eat the fry-up his grandmother spent so much time making for him.

What the older woman planned to eat for her own breakfast was something much different. She crouched down in front of the fridge, pulling out what appeared to be a ready-made meal from its cold insides. From closer inspection that Adam made, he discovered it was a bowl of zucchini bread oatmeal with an accompanying bowl of chopped banana.

Florence sat at the table next to Adam with a smile, twirling the spoon around inside the bowl of oatmeal. Her mug of tea was steaming away by her side, Adam giving worrisome sporadic glances at it.

“Now we have some time to catch up on things, don’t we? I mean”—Florence took a spoonful of the oatmeal and swallowed it—”It’s been, what, seven years since you last stayed here?”

Had it really been that long? Adam’s eyes bulged out at that revelation. He had always loved staying at his grandparents’, but as he grew older, he started to distance himself from that fact. But his grandmother’s statement demonstrated that time really did fly by.

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