Homer's Nightmare

BY : Lennox
Category: +S through Z > Simpsons
Dragon prints: 14816
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons. The characters are the property of 20th Century Fox and I am not associated with the owners of the show. This story is a work of fan-fiction, was written for entertainment purposes, and is not intended for profit.

“I’m going to put my trophy on the mantle. How about you?” Bart asked his mother as they walked up the house. The two of them had just won their first tennis tournament together since installing a court in the backyard.

“I was thinking mantle too,” Marge said excitedly. “Talk about being on the same wavelength.” The mother and son team walked through the front door, only to find an annoyed and disappointed Homer sitting in front the fireplace. With a small knife, he had carved a the handle of his tennis racquet into a sharp wooden stake.  

“Hello Marge. Hello Bart. How are the tennis partners?” Marge ran to him and wrapped her arms around her husband. She had chosen Bart to replace Homer as her partner in the tournament, because Homer couldn’t even swing his racquet properly, let alone play the game.  

“Oh Homie, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” Homer didn’t return the gesture and wriggled his way out of his wife's embrace.

“Don’t touch me. Your hands feel like salad tongs.”

“I just wanted to win for once. Please don’t take it as a threat to your manhood,” Marge was genuinely sorry. She knew that replacing Homer with Bart was wrong, but she felt that Homer would hold her back from playing professionally. Homer gasped at the mention of his manhood.  

“My manhood? I never thought of that.”

“We were good dad," Bart stepped in to try and lighten the mood between his parents. "They asked us to play in the Krusty Klassic.”

“It’s for charity," Marge smiled. "It benefits victims of balcony collapse.”

“We can wipe out B.C in our lifetime!” Bart cried in excitement, but Homer wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea as his wife and son were.  

“I don’t care about B.C," he said. "I care about M.E.! My Enjoyment!” Homer could no longer hide his sadness. He ran upstairs, covering his face as he started to cry.


When he had composed himself, Homer was lying on Lisa’s bed. Once again, he had turned to his daughter to help him with his troubles. Lisa had found herself playing the family therapist a few too many times for her liking, but she could never really refuse helping her father through his problems.   

“It’s obvious what’s happening. I’m being replaced by a younger, more in-your-face version of me,” Lisa sat next by her bed, writing down her and her father's thoughts on a notepad.  

“Dad, you’re just going through a classic Oedipal-anxiety. You remember the story of Oedipus don’t you?”  

“Well, maybe five bucks would refresh my memory,” Homer held out his hand, curving his fingers to get a little cash from his daughter. Lisa sighed and rolled her eyes.  

“Oedipus killed his father and married his mother.”  

“Ewww, who pays for that wedding?” he asked in disgust. Lisa tried to make her point.  

“I’m just saying you feel threatened by Bart but it’s all in your head.”   

“You’re right,” he scratched his chin. “But just to be safe, maybe I should chain him up.”   

“Dad, I think you’re over reacting.”

“I think you’re under reacting.”   

“This session’s over.”  

“This session’s under.”   

“Goodbye,” Lisa said as she got up from her chair and walked towards her door. 


That night, Homer tossed and turned in his sleep. His session with Lisa had only seemed to make things worse. He couldn’t help but see Bart as the new man of the house. Now that Marge was his new tennis partner, Homer felt as if he truly was being replaced.      

“No, no. Stay away from my wife Bart,” he muttered loudly in his sleep.


In his dream, Homer saw a large room. It was decorated with a suit of armour, stuffed mounted along the wall, and several trophies sitting on the mantle above a roaring fireplace. Marge and Bart sat on the sofa, tapping their glasses together to toast their new marriage.

“Darling,” Marge said. “You’re so much handsomer than my first husband.”  

“I may have the looks, but he’s the trophy husband,” Bart laughed as he approached Homer’s head. It was stuffed and hung as a trophy on the wall.  

“He thought that trip to the guillotine factory was just for fun. But it was the perfect place to shoot him.” Marge set her glass down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her new husband. She kissed him softly on the cheek.    

“Well I think my special little guy can stay up past his bedtime tonight,” Bart grinned and turned to kiss Marge on her lips. The newly married mother and son shared a passionate kiss in front of Homer’s lifeless head. Marge returned to the couch, slowly peeling the straps of her dress down her shoulders. Bart could only watch as his boyhood grew and formed a tent inside his pants. Dressed in only her bra and panties, Marge waved her son over with her finger. Bart kicked off his shoes and his dressing gown as he ran up to join her on the sofa. He jumped onto the couch and they resumed their make out session, wrapping their arms around each other. Marge broke away again and Bart had a sly smile on his lips. With a simple pinch of the strap, he had just unhooked his mother’s bra. It fell to the floor with the rest of the clothes. Bart’s jaw dropped seeing not only his mother’s breasts for the first time, but seeing any pair of breasts for the first time. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached out, his hands coming into contact with his mother’s beautiful mounds and she wasn’t doing anything to stop him. She sat back, smiled, and watched her son explore. Bart loved how smooth they felt in the palm of his hand, and her pink nipples were hardening with his touch. He lent his face down and held one tit up in his hand. He wrapped his lips over one of his mother’s nipples and started to softly suck on the pink nubbin. Marge murred and placed her hand on the back of her son’s head. That was all the encouragement that he needed. Bart gently bit down, causing Marge to jump and shudder underneath him. But she put her hands on the side of his face and pulled him back. Neither of them said anything as Bart shuffled around on top of his mother.


He stood on the cushions to pull his pants down his legs. He kicked them to the floor and knelt back on the sofa, his boyhood resting against his mother’s soaked pussy. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She married her son and now she was about to fuck him. Marge's heart was beating a mile a minute, but there was no way she was going to stop. Bart eased himself back, using his hand to hold his dick against his mother’s lower lips. He slowly rubbed the tip up and down her slit before he found the forbidden entrance. He worked his way inside her and grabbed onto her legs. He pushed the rest of his member deep inside his mother’s depths. The two of them groaned out as he hilted himself inside Marge. To Bart, she was so warm and tight, so hot and wet inside. It was almost as if his dick was just made to be inside of her and he almost came straight away. He had to clench his stomach to hold himself back. And to Marge, her son was nice and hard. He was only 10 years old, so he wasn’t as big or as thick as he would be in the future. But that wasn’t what she loved about this moment. Her own son was fucking her, and that’s what was making her horny. Bart slowly started to push in and out of his mother. The trophy head of Homer just stared at them, lifeless and showing no expression at the violation of his former wife. Bart couldn’t help but latch his mouth onto his mother’s tits again.

“Oh mom. I wish we were like this when you had Maggie. I would have given anything to drink from you,” Marge patted his head as he bounced his hips up and down on her.   

“Well Bart, get me pregnant again and you can drink as much as you want,” Bart’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You really mean it, Mom? I can get you pregnant?” Marge smiled and nodded. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but there was no way she could refuse Bart now.

“Of course Bart. We’re married now. We should start a family. And then I can breastfeed both of my children.” The mere thought of his own mother giving birth to his child brought Bart closer and closer to the edge of his orgasm. In both their minds, they pictured Marge with a plump stomach, her tits bursting with milk and Bart sitting on her lap as he sucked it down.  

“Mom... I’m gonna cum... real soon.”    

“Do it sweetie. Cum inside you mother. Nice and deep. Give me a baby, Bart. Give me your own brother or sister,” Bart gave his mother one final thrust, hilting himself inside her. 

“Oh god... Mooooom....” he cried out. His cock twitched inside her warm cunt, spraying rope after rope of his thick seed. And Marge’s orgasm hit her and flowed through her inner tunnel. Bart almost collapsed on her. Resting his head on her chest, he listened to her heartbeat as his cum swam inside his mother.


“Want to do something your father never did?”  

“What’s that mom?” Bart asked as Marge pulled her son out of her pussy and rolled over on the couch.     

“He never did me in here,” Marge reached back and spread her ass cheeks apart, showing her smooth rear entrance. Bart couldn’t believe his luck. His mother had just taken his virginity and now she wanted more.

“Mom? Are you serious?” Marge nodded.

“Just go slow sweetie. I’m a virgin back there.” Bart’s shaft was already lubed up with his mother’s juices and his seed. He had already cum barely two minutes ago, but he was still hard and felt like he could go all night. He pressed the head of his shaft against her small back hole and pushed his way inside. Marge’s toes curled and she bit down on a cushion. She was so tight. Bart noticed his mother biting down. 

“It isn't hurting, is it?”

“No. No, I’ll be fine Bart. Force it in. I want it all. Right now!” Bart wasn’t going to disappoint. He pulled back a little and forced his way into his mother’s ass. His hips connected with her ass cheeks and Marge took in a gasp. She clenched down on the boy and to Bart it almost felt like she would snap his dick off inside her.   

“Whoa momma!”

Bart stayed buried inside his mother for a few minutes, just so that she could get used to the foreign object inside her rear entrance. When Marge signalled that was ready, Bart slowly pulled back from her ass, only to bury himself once more inside of her. Her ass was so much different from her pussy. While her pussy was soaking wet, her ass was dry and lubed up from their first round of sex. Her ass was also so much tighter, which Bart loved.  

“Oh yeah. There’s no way I’m giving this hole up,” Marge no longer felt any pain or discomfort. She was starting to enjoy herself. Her hands gripped the cushions and the side of the couch as she cried out for him.

“Oh Bart. Yes. Go deeper. Go as deep as you can. Oh God, why didn’t I do this sooner?” Marge had never tried anal before, only because she thought it would hurt too much. But now she regretted waiting so long. She lifted her hips of the couch to meet Bart as he thrusted inside her. And it wasn’t long before he came again. He hilted himself as he painted his mother’s back entrance white with his cum. He lay on her back and licked her over and over. His hands reached under her and grabbed her breasts.

“Oh Mom. I love you so much,” he moaned as his fingers pinched her nipples between them.

It wasn’t long before Bart softened up and he slid out of her. Marge rolled over and looked over at her son.      

“I think maybe it’s time I tuck my special little guy into bed,” Bart yawned and nodded. While he was now a married man, he was still a kid and still needed his sleep. The two of them got off the couch and Marge leaned down to pick up her dress. But Bart took her hand and stopped her, shaking his head.

“No mom. Since we’re sharing a bed now, I want your beautiful naked body to be the first thing I see when I wake up tomorrow.”

“Awww Bart, that’s so sweet of you. You really think I’m beautiful?” Bart shook his head.

“No Mom. I know you’re beautiful.”

“Come on Bart. You’re just saying that because I’m your mother.

“No, Marge. I’m saying that because you're my wife. You may be my mother, but I love you so much more than that.” Marge got down to her knees and pressed her lips to Bart’s. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth and he wrapped his arms around her. They finally pulled apart. Hand in hand, they walked to the bedroom, with Bart’s cum dripping from between Marge’s legs.


Homer woke up with a start, sweat dripping down his face. He sat up and looked around the dark room as he cried out a little, before turning back to look at a picture of a smiling Bart that hung from the wall above his bed.  

“That’s the guy,” he said, pointing at the picture,” that’s the guy from my dream. Go ahead and smile smart guy. I’m going to mop you up like turkey gravy.”

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story