The bell echoed throughout the elementary school, giving joy to many children of an ending school day and dread to an 11-year-old boy. The simple melody reminded him of a clock he had seen at Pop-Pops retirement home. A grandfather clock, seemingly ancient and elaborate wooden case. It seemed more like a building than a clock.

Lincoln remembered it looming over him, the hands ticking away until it reaches a new hour, the deep and echoing chime.

He sat at his desk with his head down; his hands ball into fists. Wishing he could stay longer, to not leave his haven. Earlier that morning he received a text from the last person he wanted to meet. Reluctantly, he grabs his books, puts them in his bag and leaves the classroom.

Leaving the school building, he walks outside and meets up with his younger sisters on the sidewalk. The wait for Lori near the parent pick-up. A moment later Clyde comes walking out, spotting Lincoln and walking over. The sole male Loud opens his phone and checks the messenger app. There it was, to his dismay a single word bringing so much misery and it merely said "Home." His stomach starts tying itself in knots, chills swept across his skin as he tried not to look uncomfortable.

"Hey, Lincoln, who ya texting?" Clyde peered at him with a curious gaze, repressing a sigh and the white-haired Loud closes his phone.

"Just a text from Ronnie Anne, nothing much, hey you wouldn't mind if I walked with you to your house?" Clyde gives him a questioning glance and then settles into a toothy grin. Of course, Clyde assumes that there was something more to it, well there was but not in the way he thought.

"Yeah man, no problem. Though I wonder why you always want to walk home with me lately?" The grin never leaving his face,

ever since Lincoln has been walking home with Clyde. His best friend was happy to get to spend more time with the middle Loud.

However, Clyde began to suspect an ulterior motive when Lincoln was getting texts and heading away from the direction of his house. Clyde was always trying to get Lincoln to tell him where he would go but never got it out of him. One day Clyde "confirmed it," when he saw lipstick on the inside of Lincoln's collar as said Loud was changing shirts for P.E.

Several times a week the middle Loud left to "visit" someone, in fact. Clyde assumed it had something do with a particularly aggressive girl. One who wore purple and was tomboyish. He was close but so far.

"Maybe it's because I want to hang with my bro a bit longer?" Attempting to steer his thoughts away from them.

There was more truth to that statement then he would ever know, being in the company of his friend until they had to go different ways was a blessing in disguise. It helped Lincoln cope with the amount of stress he was forced to deal with at his age. Clyde was significantly helpful, one can face dread better with a friend at their side. Turning away from him, Lincoln walks over to his younger sisters who are waiting for Lori.

"Hey guys, tell Lori I am going to walk with Clyde again, ok?"

Lucy just sighs and goes back to reading her poems.

"If you wish shibling unit," Lisa stated in a bored voice.

"Ugh, I swear you've been spending more time with Clyde than your family." Despite their initial conflictions, Lola was getting more upset as her brother seemed to be trying to get away from their family.

"Don't get lost getting home again bro, Lori will throw a fit." He hates having to lie to them but it was better than them finding out the truth.

With that Lincoln began walking with Clyde, it was the calm before the storm. He tried to keep a sense of normalcy before he would have to go...there. The white-haired little boy tried to ignore the anxiety gathering in his gut. Hoping to distract himself, starts a conversation with Clyde about Ace-Savvy and video games.

It almost works, the gnawing subsides until they get to the corner, where they have to go their separate ways. The edge of the sidewalk that turns into a suburban area, Clyde's house was only a couple blocks away. It had just a simple red stop sign on the concrete; it stood slightly crooked on the pavement and the paint dulling in color over the years. How much he fucking hated seeing that stop sign. It was the divide between what he had to do and what he wanted. No, what it was sane to do. It showed the edge of the world for happy and friendly Lincoln Loud and the beginning of a broken one.

Lincoln waved goodbye to Clyde, his friend waved back with a wink, wishing him good luck. The 11-year-old would need every bit of it, with a strained breath he ventures down the sidewalk. Not heading to his house, but somewhere else. The closer he got the more his mask fell apart. With every step toward his destination, he can feel his heartbeat gaining in rhythm and the sweat increase in his palms. He felt as if he was walking to his death, which in a certain sense is what it exactly was.

The young boy turned the corner, and the horrible house appeared. As it grew and the closer he got the dread spiked. Gnawing at his heart, he can feel his body wanting him to turn back. A crawling sensation of walking through thick mud and arms weighed down crept in. It intensified as he walked to the house. His heart screaming at him to turn back, he couldn't, and his mind knew this. With cold logic, he knew that he couldn't stop this and even if he really wanted to.

He turned one last time and stopped on the path leading to the door. The apprehension erupting all along his spine made it harder to make each step to the door. He slowly walked up the small staircase before the door. He tried to push the memories of coming here down; the familiarity was making him sick. He walked up and stood in front of the door to the house and placed his hand on the knob.

Bile was rising in his stomach and threating to crawl into his throat. He could turn back, say he got lost or had to do something at home. Say anything to convince her to leave him alone. He held a deep breath in and let it out. Lincoln knew he couldn't; the consequences were something he wouldn't risk. Feeling her metaphorical leash tighten around his neck, the little boy turned the knob. It wasn't locked. Of course, it wasn't; she was waiting for him.

He closed the door behind him; he looked around the house. It was silent and empty; there was barely any light to see. He could only make out dark shapes and silhouettes. The heavy feeling of dismay was settling on his shoulders. The only thing he could see clearly in this dark living room was the clock. It was an old grandfather clock with a raven carved out on the top. It was creepy to see the bird rising out the blackness, looking right at him. The sense of helplessness embracing him and with great unease did he call out.

"M-m-mom I'm h-home."

A word meant for a kind and loving protector; this wom-girl was anything but. Her sweet voice echoed from upstairs, showing how empty the house was in response to him.

"Welcome home sweetie, leave your bag downstairs I'm in the bedroom."

The horrible turmoil churned within him, slowly gain in speed as he makes his way to the staircase. The snow-haired boy makes his way upstairs and comes face to face with the bedroom door slightly open. With a shaky hand, he pushes it open and sees his "mother."

"Hello baby, come over here!"

Carol Pingrey, with a sickly sweet smile, she pats the space next to her. Her body language changing, speaking that she was relaxed and excited to see him. Her eye's, however, held something more sinister. They are watching his every moment, something akin to a hawk swiping down, talons out at their prey.

The little boy walks over to the bed and sits next to her. Carol drapes an arm around his body, pulling him close and rest a hand on top of his head. The blond high schooler slowly caresses his hair and dips her head above his a little. She takes a deep breath smelling his hair and shudders, enjoying his scent. The blond haired girl starts to nuzzle his neck with her head; she rubs her nose along his neck taking in his smell and shivers in pleasure. He cringes at her hot breath hitting the back of his neck. This ritual of her's was constant and still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The 11-year-old shifts uncomfortably in his spot, she always loved smelling and feeling his hair. It made him sick, his teeth start chattering, and the distress travels down his spine. Every time Carol did this, she gets deep into this... tainted persona. His trembling didn't go unnoticed by her; the blond girl rubs his arm trying to comfort him. His heartbeat rises, and her touch only upsets him further. Carol takes her hand off of his head and puts it on his chest, slowly rubbing circles on his pectoral.

"What's wrong baby? Did something happen at school?" Her voice was full of motherly concern. She starts to rub his back, attempting to coax an answer out of him. The teen bends her head and moves to whisper something in his ear, but instead, she starts to nibble on his earlobe.

"It's alright sweety you can tell mommy whatever you want dear." She gently grinds his ear in between her teeth.

"N-nothing mom, I'm just stressing about school." He looks down in an attempt to leave it at that. It didn't convince her, Carol moves her head away from his ear and picks him up and sets him on her lap. She raises her hand to his face, caressing his cheeks and running her hand through his hair. Her eye held such perverted maternal affection it disturbed him, having her touch and feel him like this confused him. How could someone act so motherly, then put their hands where no mother should even think about putting.

"Oh baby, it's ok you're a smart boy, and I know you can handle whatever they give you to learn. You know what I know what can help you." It was then Lincoln started to panic, he straightened his back and tried to fight back the tears that threatened to leak out. The revulsion began rising rapidly through him, so bad he quickly bit his lip to contain it. The little boy stammered out an excuse before she could do.. things to him.

"No Ca-m-mom, I'm fine really. I'm just feeling a bit tired is al-." He was cut off by Carol lifting his chin and kissing him deeply.

He was only able to give a muffled "Mmhphff," as her tongue entered his mouth. It wrestled with his tongue; it seemed as if every time he tried to move his tongue away from her. It quickly wrapped around it, restraining it. The disgust was filling Lincoln as he unwillingly tasted her saliva. Shame grew as he started to become hard because of it. Placing a hand on the back of his head; she pulls him closer in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Her tongue is now exploring his mouth, flicking over teeth and feeling the ridges of his gums.

She started to get drunk off him, tasting and feeling the soft flesh under his tongue. The hardness of his gums and molars, she flicked his uvula with her tongue. The warmth was rising to her face, coating her cheeks with a light blush. Carol laid her hand on his groin, massaging his growing hardness. Every time he tried to move his head away, her hunger increased. Her thirst was growing; she had to have more.

Her nails were now digging deep into scalp; the 11-year old started giving muffled cries of pain. Tears fill his eyes as her tongue violates his mouth, he struggles with her hold on him. With a last long lick on the roof of his mouth, she separates from him with a heavy breath. He looks up at her breathlessly; her eyes have glazed over, and with fear filling his heart she seizes him.

It was crazy what he did to her; her heart flutters every time she touches him and aches at the same time. Creating an insatiable desire that filled her heart, she wanted to hold and cuddle with him as a mother would. Then she loved to take in his body, the smell and would aggressively touch him. Licking and tasting his body, it was addicting. An addiction she was bathed in, she couldn't stop this if she tried.

She drags him onto her bed and lays him on his back, the apprehension in his stomach exploding into horror. She waited a moment to lick her lips and give him a lecherous smirk before descending on him. She starts by kissing his throat; the blond teen hungrily places kisses on his throat. Leaving wet, sloppy marks on his neck and a mess of lipstick on coating it. Her hot breath makes him shiver under her. The blond girl kisses trails up his neck to his jaw and his face. Feral and desperate lips peck him insistently, leaving saliva moving down his face. Lustfully sticking out her tongue and tasting his face, trailing it from his cheek to his jaw.

With every ounce of will, he could force, Lincoln tried to stand the barrage of defiling kisses from her. His hand grips the blanket under him desperately to focus on anything else. The unsettling feeling of her tongue trailing down his face to his neck. Her licks turn into her sucking on his flesh, gently nibbling on the side of his neck. Lincoln sucks in hot gasps of air as she continues to slurp on his throat. Her teeth are lightly rubbing his flesh as her tongue flicks back forth, tasting the salt on his neck. He tries not to cry as she sullies him, to crumble as she defiled him. He reminded himself why he was doing this, in an attempt to strengthen his resolve. It fails and only led to more agony. He comforts himself knowing that they at least they don't see him get degraded like this.

In between breaths as she wildly kisses his neck, Carol can only stammer out her words.

"Oh... m-my bh-ba-baby, m-mommy lo-loves y-you suh-so much." Huffing in between words, the blond teen can only manage a couple of syllables at a time.

Her hands fall to his shirt, instead of bothering with the buttons on his shirt she just rips it open. Wasting no time she takes her mouth off of the forming hickey on his neck and starts kissing his chest. The little boy stares at the ceiling with terrified shudders and stray tears flowing down the side of his face. Suddenly, he cries out in pain and winces as Carol bites around his nipple. Her tongue licking and swirling around the nub, tasting his areola and sucking harshly on the delicate flesh. The young teen's tongue flicking his nipple and rubbing circles around it.

He has other marks like that on his chest; numerous bite marks and fading hickeys from earlier interactions. Yellow and blue bruises adorn each bit and red discoloration with every hickey. Even at home, he wasn't safe from her grasp. Every time he took off the shirt what had happened to him had come crashing down, becoming real, and he had to stop himself from collapsing into a sobbing mess. The shame never left him whenever he showered, he scrubbed, but the bite marks and hickeys didn't fade as fast as he wanted to.

He was careful to never expose her mark on him, he was lucky Clyde mistook one for something else. Carol put pressure on the bite, causing Lincoln to clench his teeth to ride out the pain. Now he was going be scrubbing away at another mark. Carol lifted her mouth from his chest leaving a trail of saliva. She wipes her mouth, and she gives him that look. With every fiber of his being that look disturbs him to his very core. It's one with a sick motherly smile and eyes full love and desire.

"Lincoln baby, you make mommy so... so happy. Mommy is lucky to have a nice boy like you. Mommy wants to make sure you get a reward for being such a good boy." Her unsettling smile widens, and she pulls him toward her. There's a perverse gleam in her eye. His body tightens as dread grips his heart and squeezes.

'Please no, not this, anything but this dear god. I-I don't want to do this anymore I want this nightmare to end.' Lincoln sobs are internally praying she isn't going to do it. She sits up and pulls his rear toward her lap. Carol squeezes it and with her other hand move to his head.

"You need your strength baby, let me help you, sweetie."

Her hand on his rear moves to her shirt and moves the bra strap to the side, Carol pulls down her shirt low enough to expose her breast. The hand holding Lincoln's head brings it close enough until her teat is against his mouth. She's moving her finger through his hair and massages his head. She tries to coax him into feeding on her; Carol smiles down as Lincoln's mouth starts to tremble.

For Lincoln, tears have already started to flow freely, and his mouth is quivering as her nipple rubs against his lips. With a barely repressed sob, he opens his mouth and begins to suckle gently on her breast. His tears increase immediately, and sobs wrack his body as he sucks on her nipple. To try and cope with what was happening, he curses himself for being so helpless and so weak. Carol coos as Lincoln sucks on her breast; it gave her a warm feeling, it felt so good. Feeling his lips and warm breath on her nub, it helped with the ache she felt deep in her chest.

"Its ok baby, mommy will take care of you, just keep nursing you need your nourishment." She gives him a delusional smile, and with her unoccupied hand, she starts undoing his belt.

Lincoln stops for a moment, and his sobs become increasingly vocal, she nudges his head to continue. With a mournful wail, he continues sucking on her breast. She smiles and reaches into his underwear and pulls out his semi-erect boyhood. She wraps a hand around and slowly starts to jerk him off. She pumps him at a rapid pace, feeling the organ slowly get hard in her hand. It was a moment like this did she feel wholeheartedly content, satisfying both desires in her heart. Nursing her baby boy Linky, made her feel so... complete. She's such a lucky mother to get a boy like this; Carol wants him to herself. Forever.

Lincoln's horror and angst earlier was nothing compared to how uncomfortable and defiled he felt now. He had to continue reminding himself to keep sucking on her breast. He wanted this.. this.. this unsettling nightmare to end as soon as possible. He knew how to do it; Lincoln just didn't like the answer. The little boy had to throw away his dignity, to put it aside and degrade himself further.

'What dignity did he have at this point?' He thought hopelessly, and with a massive amount of self-hatred, he began to increase his sucking on her breast and rubbing his teeth on her areola gently.

Carol started to moan loudly and pump him faster. The blond teen gave him another look of twisted maternal affection. Carol let out a couple of hot breaths, the increasing pleasure causing her to gasp for air as the room grew hot. The pleasure that was racking Lincoln's body contrasting with the massive amount of emotional distress. His sobs were becoming so frequent and vocal that he was wailing loudly in despair. To twisted Carol, she thought he was enjoying her taste, not crying but moaning. She for a brief moment, the blond teen thought this was what it was like to have a baby nurse. At that thought she beamed, letting a content smile fill her face and a blissful moan.

"Huff.. huff.. see baby I knew you would like it, mommy knows best after all." With the last pump, he finished in her hand. His orgasm was shooting out and then pooling in her hand, much to her delight.

She brought the dirty hand to her face and began to lick and suck on her fingers. Her tongue was moving up and down to capture every drop of his essence she could. After cleaning up her hand, she uses it to lift Lincoln's rear till his boyhood is in her face. She opens her mouth and starts to lick and suck on the appendage. The blond girl's tongue was wrapping around him and taking him all the way to the base to get the mess. With her cleaning done, she kisses the head before lifting her mouth with a loud pop.

As she pulls his pants up and puts his belt back on the little boy, Lincoln detaches from her breast. His body is periodically convulsing from disgust of the "feeding," he brings his arms to his chest. Bile rises from his stomach; the urge to throw up is a strong one. The tears have never stopped flowing; he looks to the side trying to curb the feeling of being soiled. Carol pulls her shirt up, and she picks him up and sets him on the bed

"Stay here sweetie mommy will go and get cleaned up, ok?" Carol went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of panties and jeans. She went to the bathroom connected to her room to clean up, when she was gone he noticed the bottom of his jeans were wet. His mouth opened wide as he hyperventilated a couple of times. Lincoln gagged several times before he got ahold of himself. The male Loud curls into his body, trying to hide his soiled being from the world. He sobs to himself, asking why did this happen to him and hating the answer. No matter how many times he told himself he was doing this for them, it didn't make him feel better.

With that, he rocked back and forth to forget what had happened to him. He wouldn't.

revision 4