


Hexed

by dellagordo



Category: Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-04-27 09:40:31
Chapters: 3
Publisher: literotica.com
Story URL: https://www.literotica.com/s/hexed-ch-01
Author URL:
https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=167578&page=submissions
Summary: <p>1. A man shrinks - but Mom finds him.</p>
<p>2. Escalation.</p>
<p>3. Re-evaluation.</p>
Erotica Tags: Big Breasts, Excessive Cum, Giantess, Mother Son Incest, Sci-Fi
& Fantasy, Shrunken Man, Voyeur
Average Rating: 4.63





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Hexed Ch. 01

Hexed Ch. 02

Hexed Ch. 03




        Hexed Ch. 01


_This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is
purely coincidental. All characters are 18 or older. This story features my
usual themes of Oedipal incest, exaggerated bodies, and copious fluids. _  
  
1.  
  
I disembark from the plane, after seventeen hours in the air, a two hour
layover in Hawaii, and an hour and a half in the Sydney airport. I am shagged
out and jet-lagged, but it still feels good to be back in the good ol' US
after a semester in the Land of Oz. Don't get me wrong, it was fun working on
my tan and surfing through the winter, and Australian girls are fit and cute
and can drink me under the table, but I missed home.  
  
A quick trip through customs and a new stamp in my passport and I'm out of the
terminal. Mom is waiting for me, fairly jumping up and down to catch my
attention. We've stayed in touch through the occasional phone call and lots of
e-mail, but my mother the luddite couldn't figure out Skype to save her life.
So I haven't actually seen her in months... and I am shocked and gladdened to
see how great she looks.  
  
Mom has shed at least ten years and fifty pounds. Always a tall, curvy girl,
she's kept some weight in all the right places, and the fashionable blouse and
skirt combo she's wearing shows off those curves quite nicely. Her long brown,
almost black hair hangs past her shoulders, and she's wearing contacts instead
of her glasses. Subtle makeup enhances her natural beauty; high cheekbones,
pert nose, full lips.  
  
Mom wraps me up in a fierce hug, holding me tight to her large breasts which
mash between us. "Oh, my little man is home! It's so good to see you! I've
missed you so much!" She plants a quick kiss on my cheek and then releases me,
to look me up and down. "You look good, kid. All that sun and exercise has
treated you well."  
  
"You look great, too, Mom," I say, and mean it. She looks fantastic, sexy,
vivacious. You're not supposed to notice that about your mom, but I can't help
it. Mom is transformed from the dumpy housewife who dropped me off at the
airport almost four months ago. Anyone who didn't know her would say she had
work done. But I know that's impossible.  
  
Mom smiles, too. Maybe because of me, but probably because of the new
boyfriend. Good for her, it's been long enough since Dad died.  
  
The tall, silver haired guy in the polo shirt at her side must be Clark, the
beau, and he gives me a firm handshake and a welcoming smile. "Nice to finally
meet you, Robert," he says. "I've heard quite a bit about you."  
  
"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Wilkins," I say, but he quickly corrects me. Clark
it is.  
  
"I'm sure you're tired from your flight, but Clark wants to take us out for an
early dinner, if that's alright?"  
  
"Sure, Mom. I could murder a steak." It's one of those things Dad used to say,
and she gives me a funny look when I say it.  
  
She puts her hand on my cheek. "You look so much like him, you know," and we
share a moment that Clark is gracious enough to not interrupt. I'm already
liking this guy, and it's clear that he's good for Mom, which is the main
thing.  
  
So we go out to dinner, after packing all my luggage into the trunk of Clark's
station wagon. He's a divorcee, got a few kids of his own about my age, and
they'll be coming home from college in a few weeks. I'll be happy to meet
them, I assure him, although I expect to be busy meeting up with my high
school friends and preparing for my summer internship down the city.  
  
Mom's looks aren't the only change. She's like another person. Light and
breezy, she laughs a lot, throwing her head back and releasing a throaty
chuckle at some witticism of mine or Clark's. She is absolutely devastating in
her ensemble, with a low neckline that shows off some prodigious cleavage and
a high skirt that showcases toned legs and a firm backside. I have to remind
myself a few times that she's my mother, and not one of the Mrs. Robinsons
that used to hit on me back in Australia.  
  
After dinner, Clark drives us home and helps me carry my bags into the house,
up the stairs to my bedroom. I'll unpack later. There's a message on the
machine from Tony, and while Clark and Mom relax in the living room with a
glass of wine, I give Tony a call. The guys are getting together tonight at
Thurstons for pool and beer and wings. I am indeed down, I assure Tony.  
  
I let Mom know. She's clearly disappointed. "But you just got here -- I want
to hear more about your trip." As if I didn't keep her updated the entire time
I was over there, or share stories over dinner. But I haven't seen the guys in
forever, so I beg off. Clark is surprisingly supportive. "He's a young man,
Beth. He doesn't want to spend his Thursday night with us old fogies."  
  
They're not that old and they're actually pretty cool for parental types, but
you know how it is. Mom acquiesces. Not that I was going to do anything
differently, but it avoids a fight. Probably something else I should thank
Clark for. Mom is more even-tempered than she was before I left.  
  
I go upstairs, take a quick shower, then dig through my luggage to find
something suitable to wear. After I change, I rumble down to the living room.
Mom and Clark are just disengaging, and I finally admit to myself that it's a
little odd seeing Mom looking flushed and glassy eyed. I give her a peck on
the cheek and head outside. Tony is on the way to pick me up, and I wait for
him in the usual spot.  
  
Tony pulls up fifteen minutes later, grinning madly behind a cigarette and
promising to welcome me back to the states in true American style. What
follows is several hours of drunken debauchery -- shots and beers in rapid
succession, broken only by the occasional order of buffalo wings and handful
of stale pretzels. When the other guys show up at Thurstons, we start several
rounds of pool, and I get progressively worse at the game as the alcohol
thunders through my system. I thought I got good at drinking in Australia, but
the sheer amount of alcohol Tony, Steve, and Perry buy me tests the endurance
I built up overseas.  
  
Finally, as the bartender announces last call, and the guys are forced to peel
me off the floor, we leave Thurstons. "It's good to see you, man," Tony slurs
as he pulls in front of my house. He probably shouldn't be driving, but I'm in
no shape to criticize. Instead, I give him an awkward half hug from the
passenger seat and admonish him to be careful driving home.  
  
I stumble up the walk to the front door and fumble with my keys. In the back
of my brain, I'm relieved to see that Clark's station wagon has departed. It
takes two tries before I find the keyhole, and it takes me a while to remember
how to get the thing working. I fairly fall through the front door, but with a
little concentration manage to close it behind me and lock it. I stagger down
the hall towards the kitchen, suddenly struck by that drunken hunger that
always gets you at 2 AM.  
  
I shrug out of my jacket and leave it on the island in the middle of the
kitchen. Opening the fridge, I survey the pickings. Some cold chicken, some
pasta, lots of vegetables... a-ha. In the back on one of the lower shelves,
almost hidden by condiments, is a pie. There are two pieces cut out of it,
which clue me in to the fact that it's blueberry. My favorite.  
  
Salivating, I wedge the pie plate out of the fridge and bring it over the
island. That's when I notice the note placed on the saran wrap encircling the
pie. In my mother's hand, it reads: "Robbie DO NOT EAT this -- I'm serious --
Mom."  
  
In my drunken state, that is hardly a deterrent. I toss the note aside, peal
the saran wrap away, and finding a fork, dispense with other cutlery and a
plate and just dig in. The first bite is like electricity on my tongue. Juicy,
tangy, with a hidden hint of something I cannot quite place. And the crust, as
flaky and light as anything Mom has ever made before. In fact, she hasn't
baked since Dad died, and this is the first homemade pie I've seen in years.
Shame on her for trying to keep me from eating any of it.  
  
As I plow through the pie, I feel a sort of tingle at the base of my spine.
Not unpleasant, but growing stronger with each bite. My skin feels alternately
warm and cool in patches, and as I begin to work my way through the second
half of the remaining pie, I feel a cool sweat break out on my forehead. My
eyesight actually begins to swim a little bit, but that could be the alcohol.
Proportions look a little weird. The fork looks big in my hand.  
  
I should probably stop, and were I sober, I certainly would, but I am pretty
drunk, and my ability to reason is seriously impaired. I think I only meant to
have a piece or two, but I am devouring the whole damn thing. It's just so
delicious and different and tasty. I'm not thinking straight. I'm not acting
right.  
  
I'm not feeling well.  
  
As the last piece of pie enters my mouth, I look at the empty pie plate. The
fork falls my hand and clatters in the plate.  
  
My vision swims. Lights swirl in front of me, and the tingle at the base of my
spine has extended across my back and into my limbs and skull. I feel tight,
as if my skin was stretched hard against every muscle in my body. And then
suddenly I feel as though I'm falling, like in a dream, and the bottom is
nowhere in sight. I just keep falling and falling and falling and then
suddenly it's all black.  
  
Slowly, I come too, or feel as if I do. My head aches.  
  
It pounds, actually, a thundering beat in my temples that distracts me
somewhat from other aches and pains. Somewhere below my waist I feel bloated,
distended. And yet my head is clear. The alcoholic haze is gone. I am thinking
without static.  
  
It feels as though something has fallen on me, a cloth or a quilt or a curtain
or something. I try to pull it off me, but there doesn't seem to be an end to
it. It covers me completely, extends onto the floor, wraps all the way around
me. I start to panic, feel the air stutter in my chest as I fight to breathe.
I need to get out from under this thing. I fight and kick and pull, and
finally, after what seems like an eternity, I wrench myself free from it.  
  
And that's when I realize I'm naked.  
  
And less than a foot tall.  
  
2.  
  
The kitchen is huge. The island in the middle looks like a building next to
me, the refrigerator could be a skyscraper. I'm overwhelmed, and threaten to
hyperventilate again. I cup my hands over my mouth and breathe through them,
deep breaths. My hands smell like blueberries and alcohol.  
  
That "curtain" is my clothes, in a puddle beneath my feet, which has become a
mound. My footing is uncertain, and my balance is off. My heart constricts
like a fist as the next revelation hits me: that bloated feeling, that aching
feeling below the waist, is my dick. It's huge. A comparative foot long, thick
as my forearm, distended and erect and already leaking precum. My balls are
massive and swollen as well, like grapefruits. I have to stand bowlegged.  
  
What the fuck? I mean, seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?  
  
The ground shivers beneath me. I stumble off the mound of clothes onto the
tile floor, which is cold beneath my naked feet.  
  
And then a vision:  
  
I see a slim, muscular, toned, bare leg twenty-five feet long descend past the
edge of the kitchen island. At the end is a foot, as long as a car, encased
within a black high-heeled slipper with a big pink puffball on the top.
Another leg, just as long, just as gorgeous, follows. The ground shivers with
each step.  
  
It's Mom. Of course -- who else could it be?  
  
She's wearing some kind of nightie, gauzy and diaphenous, black in color,
highlighted in pink. It ends just below her crotch, and from my spot upon the
floor I can spy the high cut, black thong that hides her enormous vagina. The
nightie is tied loosely around Mom's slim waist, while her titanic breasts
distend the top, projecting out from her chest, wobbling like small planetoids
with each dainty step. Her cleavage is yards long, clearly visible with the
plunging neckline, and a glint of gold is at her throat. Her arms are long,
sixteen feet or more, and the wedding ring she still wears on her left hand
looks as big as a table.  
  
My mother is a vision of pulchritude, a mesmerizing giantess, an icon of
feminine beauty. As tall as a building and yet my mom, but still the most
erotic and sexy thing I have ever seen. That could be my distended cock
talking, though.  
  
I'm almost afraid to look up further, into her face, but I am compelled to as
she approaches carefully. I look up and up and up, craning my neck, to see her
beautiful, billboard sized face, framed by her gigantic breasts. Her full lips
are twisted into a scowl, her fine brows narrow in anger, her high cheeks
flushed, and her eyes shining. Her black hair is tousled and curled from
sleep, but she's very much awake and very clearly annoyed.  
  
"Robert Arthur Matheson," she thunders, "what have you done?" To my tiny ears,
her voice is deeper and huskier than usual, given it a further erotic edge
that makes my dick shiver inappropriately. "Did you read the note? Was that
not clear enough for you? And you ate the entire pie? What were you thinking?
No, you weren't thinking, were you, you were just doing whatever you wanted,
no matter who it hurts, or how wrong it is, or-" Mom is working herself up.
But she is beautiful in her anger.  
  
Still, even with the strange feelings taking control of my body, I can't help
but react to the stress of my transformation and the terror inspired by the
formidable anger of a fifty foot woman.  
  
I burst into tears.  
  
I can't help myself. One minute I'm looking up at her, wide-eyed, in shock,
and the next I am huddled over my erection (which simply will not go down)
bawling like a baby.  
  
Mom immediately softens. She crouches down toward me, somewhat lessening her
incredible size. But then she does something that makes my heart beat faster,
in a strange mix of terror and arousal. She reaches down, wraps her hands
around me, and lifts me up.  
  
She makes soothing sounds, cupping me in one hand and softly brushing my head
with the other. She presses me against her cleavage. My nakedness folds
against the plush flesh of her enormous breasts. Through my tears, calming
slightly, I marvel at their size. From my angle, braced against her left
breast, I can see the curving slope of her right breast as it cantilevers
outward, three feet of gorgeous, milky skinned tit, five feet wide and easily
six feet tall. I can see through the thin material of her night clothes that
her nipple is distended, hardened, erect, and almost as long as my new cock.
I've always been a breast man, and this is without doubt the largest, most
majestic, most perfect pair I have ever seen, or will probably ever see.  
  
The scent of her perfume envelops me. Her heartbeat echoes in my ears, a
quickened thump thump thump. It's all too much. Much too much, and honestly,
its amazing I've lasted this long.  
  
With a cry, without anyone touching me, I suddenly erupt.  
  
A stream of cum jets from the tip of my engorged cock, spraying in a long arc
across Mom's cleavage to splatter against her right tit. Again and again huge
jets of pearly white, viscous liquid pour out of me, a seemingly endless
stream of virulence that plasters my mother's tit in sticky, dripping pools of
jism. It soaks her nightie, sticking to her skin. Aghast and enraptured, I can
do nothing to stem the tide. Just enjoy it while it lasts. And it lasts longer
than it should. An impossible volume of semen sprays from me, a seemingly
never-ending supply. My cock tingles and aches with the effort, and my balls
feel as though they are being pleasantly squeezed. My toes curl. My eyes roll
back in my head. My whole body shudders with the effort.  
  
Under me, around me, Mom shakes with barely suppressed anger. I can't bear to
look at her until my flood finally, finally, subsides. I lay gasping in her
hands, suddenly aware I am flooded with sweat. My dick remains rampant, and a
thick dripping of cum hangs off the tip like candlewax.  
  
Mom's enormous breasts shiver delightedly. My cum, which seems an enormous
amount to me, but is probably the same amount I generate at normal size, drips
into her cleavage, leaving glistening trails on her plump milky flesh.  
  
I risk a glance up. Mom's gray eyes are bright and glazed, pupils the size of
dinner plates dilated. I can see each individual eyelash, each one as thick as
a cable. Her cheeks are flushed, and she is panting. I've never seen her so
angry. Yet her words belie her emotions.  
  
"There, there," she coos, stroking my back softly. "That was quite a show."
She sets me gently, awkwardly, down on top of the kitchen island, just a few
inches -- feet -- from the empty pie plate. It looks as big as a pool to me
now. I could do the backstroke in the thing.  
  
Mom steps toward the sink on shaky legs. She grabs a dishtowel and runs it
under the faucet, then brings it up to her chest and mops at my mess. I am
ashamed to admit it to myself, but the view from behind is as spectacular as
the front. Her narrow waist flares out into a tight, springy ass. Those
towering legs decline from plump thighs to well defined calves, emphasized by
the heeled slippers she wears. She's 42, but she's got the body of a 20 year
old. This is ridiculous.  
  
"Mom, what is going on?"  
  
She laughs lightly. "No apology, Robbie? Not for eating the pie, or for
spraying your semen across your mother's chest?" I turn red. She pivots on
those impossibly long legs to look at me. Mom is smiling, taking the sting out
of her words. "I shouldn't be so sharp with you. I'm sure this is rather
overwhelming. Still," she says brightly, "I thought I raised you better."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mom," I say, and I mean it. My stomach is all knotted up with
worry, embarrassment, and lust. "I was drunk and hungry, and you know I love
blueberry pie. And as for, well, y'know, I honestly couldn't help myself."  
  
She sighs one of those irritable Mom sighs. "Yes, I know. That's part of the
hex."  
  
"The... what?"  
  
Mom approaches with the wet towel. She gently grabs me and begins to clean me
up. "Your mother is a witch," she tells me. "No flying broomstick or pointy
hats, but I can do spells, jinxes, and hexes. Minor alterations to the fabric
of reality."  
  
It sounds preposterous, but in my current predicament, I am forced to believe
her. Unless I'm dreaming? Could I be passed out on the kitchen floor right
now, filled with beer and pie, my addled brain conjuring up an incestuous
fantasy featuring a giant Mom?  
  
"By the face you're making, I see that you don't quite believe me, even though
you're about nine inches tall at the moment." She sighs, places the towel on
the island next to me, a huge mound of fabric.  
  
I shake my head quickly. "No, no, I believe you. Can you change me back?"  
  
"Not exactly," she says.  
  
Despite myself, the tears threaten again. I don't want to be a tiny freak for
the rest of my life.  
  
"It's not permanent," she stresses. "The hex is strictly temporary. It shrinks
the subject, acts as an aphrodisiac, and also enhances certain physical
characteristics." Mom gives my engorgement a playful flick with the tip of her
finger. I stagger backwards, but her other hand is there to catch me. For once
I'm more irritated than aroused or terrified.  
  
"Watch it, Mom!"  
  
She pulls her hands away instantly, and the sensual smirk on her face
dissolves just as quickly. "Sorry," she says. "It's difficult for me not to...
I should control myself better. Sorry.  
  
"Anyway," she says, taking a careful step back from the island, "the pie is
supposed to only be eaten one slice at a time. One slice lasts a few hours,
after which the subject changes back to regular height. But you ate the whole
thing."  
  
Minus two pieces, I add mentally. On the heels of that thought, come unbidden
images of a tiny Clark cavorting on my mother's splendid body. I squash them,
as well as the surge of jealousy that accompanies them. "So what does that
mean?" I make myself say.  

Mom frowns. "I don't know, honestly. You could be stuck like this for days.
Weeks at the outside. Or you could be back to normal in the morning."  
  
Days? Weeks? I slump on top of the kitchen island. "How can you not know? It's
your pie, your hex or spell or whatever."  
  
She forces a smile. "Well, that's the problem. It's magic, not science. The
proportions are important, and also the fact that you're blood of my blood
complicates things. I used, well, bodily fluids in the recipe. Mine, and...
someone else's."  
  
My stomach churns again. I force myself not to think about that, or the odd
taste to the pie.  
  
Mom's hands come around me again, and she carefully strokes my back. "It's
going to be okay, honey. If things don't clear up in a day or two, I'll figure
out a way to get you back to normal." I look up, but she forestalls me with a
finger that lies entirely across my chest. "It's better to let these things
run their course, if possible.  
  
"You'll just have to adjust to the situation."  
  
"That's easy for you to say!"  
  
Mom shakes my head. Almost under her breath, she says, "You have no idea."
Louder, she adds, "Now, come on, it's late, and some of us have to go to work
in the morning."  
  
I can't help squawking as she scoops me up again. This time she's careful to
hold me out from her body, although I find myself almost hypnotically being
drawn to her jiggling, enormous tits. Her nipples are still hard and tenting
the fabric of her nightie. While she cleaned her skin and most of the splooge
off her clothes, there's a sheen across the fabric on her right tit that will
most likely stain. My dick strains and throbs between my legs, and with an act
of will I force myself to look away.  
  
I try to tell myself that it's the hex's fault. Or that Mom is barely human
anymore, having been transformed into a living billboard, a person the size of
a building. She's a goddess, not human, let alone my mother. But I still feel
a squirminess in my gut when I check her out that proves the lie.  
  
My surroundings don't help. The familiar home in which I've spent most of my
life has become an alien landscape. Being carried suspended thirty feet in the
air does nothing for my vertigo, either.  
  
Mom marches right past the door to my bedroom. "Hey! Where are we going?"  
  
"You're too small to leave alone. We'll have to figure out something for
tomorrow when I go to work, but for now, you're spending the night in my
room."  
  
A sick thrill thunders through my tiny frame.  
  
Mom shifts me into a one handed grip as we enter her room, which unfortunately
presses her giant fingers against my engorged cock, which in turn presses
against my chest. The head hits my breastbone, and I feel an electric charge
along its length where her finger touches it. I start thinking about baseball.
In this posture, I definitely don't want it going off. I'm afraid I'd drown.  
  
Mom opens her closet and pulls out the old kitty carrier for Ferdinand, her
late cat. "You don't seriously think -?" I start to say, but she shushes me.  
  
"You didn't think you'd get away without any punishment, did you?" she says.
She sets the carrier on her tall bureau, then crosses the room quickly and
retrieves a towel from her bathroom. I'm feeling dizzy and uncertain.  
  
Mom shoves the towel into the carrier one handed. It's thick, and she has to
fold it in places to get it to fit. Then she gently sets me down inside and
closes the door, letting it lock when it shuts. I'm on my feet and grabbing
the bars in a second. "This isn't fair," I say. "Don't you think being stuck
at this size is punishment enough?"  
  
Mom clucks. "Normally, I'd agree with you. But honestly, honey, at your size,
you're in considerable danger from normal things. This is as much for your
safety as anything." She bends down and presses her full, mattress sized lips
against the carrier door. Her flesh presses against my hands, and the head of
my cock, sticking out through the door, inadvertently nudges her chin. Mom
makes an indistinct noise, and an exhalation of her breath almost knocks me
over. "Good night, honey."  
  
Mom picks up the carrier, unbalancing me, and turns it around, so that the
front faces sideways, pointed away from the bed. I hear a whisper of fabric.  
  
Despite myself, I surge to my feet and rush to the side of the carrier. There
are plenty of breathing holes in the side, too narrow to climb through, but
wide enough to see through. I catch the barest glimpse of my mother before she
flicks off the light and slides into bed. It's enough. The image will be
indelibly etched on my brain for as long as I live.  
  
I see her from behind again. She's removed the stained nightie, and holds it
limply in her right hand. Her naked back is smooth and sculpted, with a long
beautiful line down the middle, narrowing as it approaches her waist and then
suddenly flaring out into broad hips. She's wearing a thong, black in color,
the whisper thin back of which has disappeared into the crack of her
delectable ass. The effect is of seeing her backside completely naked. Two
gorgeous, tautly sculpted globes of flesh, coming together in a marvelous
peach shape that I just want to bite into. To complete the picture, her
braless breasts are massive enough and hang well enough that even from behind,
I can see the outer curve of each.  
  
A moment later the light is off, and it takes just long enough for my eyes to
adjust to the darkness that Mom gets under the covers before I see anything
else.  
  
But I've seen enough.  
  
I move to the back of the carrier, find a fold of the towel, and quickly
stroke my massive dick until I feel a shuddering release rushing up the shaft.
I jam the head into the towel and dump another epic load into the fabric,
soaking it almost through. I hear Mom tossing and turning in her bed, and my
mind makes me think I hear a moan or two escape her lips, but that is surely
my imagination. It still fuels the illicit thrill.  
  
Sleep doesn't come easily. Ashamed, I have to empty myself one more time in
the other corner before my eyelids feel heavy enough. I curl up near the
carrier door, fold a bit of towel over me, and in moments I am asleep.  
  
3\.  
  
I'm awakened by the sound of the shower in Mom's bathroom. I try not to
imagine what's going on in there. After an eternity, I hear the water taper
off, and Mom puttering around in the bathroom. In a little bit, I hear her
come back into the bedroom, flick on a light, and start opening drawers. I
notice that something is diffusing the light -- with a start I realize Mom has
draped the nightie from the previous evening over the carrier. While the
fabric is sheer, it is double folded, obscuring the view through the breathing
holes. All I can make out is a silhouette of my titanic mother, wrapped in a
towel, hair tousled and wet.  
  
I'm almost relieved to still be tiny. Almost.  
  
The view affords me a glimpse of Mom as she shucks the towel and, naked, slips
on a pair of panties and a rather large bra. I don't see any details, but the
lines of her form are perfect. Smooth and rounded in all the right places, in
proportions that are mouth-watering even at normal size. She turns as she
clips the band across her back and approaches her closet. But she doesn't
select her outfit yet, instead returning to the tall bureau. She opens a
drawer below me, and I lose myself for a moment in the contemplation of her
epic cleavage, which, now that she is closer, I can just barely make out.  
  
Mom retrieves a few items, then retreats. If she is aware of me being awake,
she makes no sign. Other than the nightie draped around my prison, she makes
little attempt at modesty. I see that one of the items she recovered she puts
around her trim waist, like a belt, and when she sits down on the edge of the
bed and extends one of her monumental legs, I realize it's a garter belt.
She's putting on stockings.  
  
I release an involuntary groan as I watch the fabric slide up her long,
muscular leg, past her dainty foot flexed in a point. The other stocking
follows, and Mom stands and ties the tapes. She tugs them a little, to test
them, and I'm momentarily distracted by the jiggle of her breasts.  
  
Finally Mom turns to the closet and selects a blouse and suitjacket, adding a
short skirt that barely reaches the top of her stockings to the ensemble. She
stops at the mirror above her shorter bureau to apply makeup and select a
necklace and earrings for the day.  
  
Mom walks towards the door, pausing only briefly to check the carrier. I
freeze, still looking through the narrow breathing hole, wondering if she will
remove the nightie, whether she will catch me watching her. I'm not sure what
outcome I want, or how I will react -- with shame, flirtation, or flustered
anger? But she only pauses a moment before sweeping out of the room.  
  
I release a breath I didn't even know I was holding and slump back on to the
towel. This is beyond perverse, I tell myself. It doesn't matter how beautiful
Mom is, or how huge, this isn't right. This is very, very wrong. I feel like I
might throw up, but there's nothing in my stomach. On the heels of that
realization, I wonder when I will next eat, and what? I'm also sweaty, reek of
cum, and still smell of blueberries. I need a shower and a shave. I figure I
might be able to get a bath at some point, but I don't want any razors coming
within a hundred yards of me.  
  
So I manage to thoroughly dishearten and depress myself before Mom comes back.
This time she tugs the nightie off the carrier. "Wake up, sleepyhead."  
  
"Um... good morning, I guess." I try to convincingly play tired and just
waking up, but I doubt Mom believes me.  
  
She opens the carrier and reaches in to scoop me up. She smirks at me and
shakes her head. "That thing never goes down, does it?"  
  
I flush and try in vain to cover my cock with my hands. Mom kind of casually
knocks my hands away with her thumb and closes her hand loosely but completely
around me. "Don't worry, honey. I'm not offended. It's actually kind of
flattering." She chuckles throatily, then holds me with both hands and carries
me out to the hall.  
  
Neither her words nor her cavalier attitude help my mood. I don't say anything
as she whisks me down the hall and then to the first floor.  
  
"Not talkative? I thought you'd at least thank me for taking you out of the
carrier."  
  
"Thanks, Mom," I offer lamely, without much conviction.  
  
Mom sighs. "My poor little man." When I was over six feet tall, that was cute.
Now it adds insult to injury. "You'll be better in no time, sweetie. We just
have to ride this out. A positive attitude helps. Not many people get the
opportunity you have."  
  
"Opportunity?"  
  
"To see the world from your angle," she says. I look up, into her smiling
face, but of course at the angle to which she prefers, I have to track over
her immense breasts to get there. I'm afraid I linger a little too long,
especially when I see the top few buttons unbuttoned, and the pendant at her
throat pointing like an arrow at her cleavage. Mom has one eyebrow arched when
I finally meet her eyes. "See what I mean?"  
  
I flush again, which is becoming a habit, but force a smile. "Sorry."  
  
"Don't apologize. As I said last night, it's not exactly your fault. The hex
is working on bo- on your mind. Just try not to get carried away, okay? I'm
still your mother."  
  
Don't I know it.  
  
"Anyway, I've set up the couch for you, so you should be okay while I'm at
work." We've arrived in the family room. I look around. She's spread a couple
of bath towels across the long couch, and set a few bowls out. One is empty,
at the far side of the couch, and this she explains is for calls of nature.
Ew. On the near end of couch are two bowls. One is filled with water, the
other with chopped lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and what looks like diced
sandwich meat. Ham, maybe. In the middle of the couch is the remote control to
the television and the phone.  
  
Mom sets me down on the couch near the phone and remote. Both devices are
nearly as big as I am. It makes me feel even smaller to stand next to them.  
  
"You've got enough food and water to last you the day, and you can watch all
the TV you want. I left the phone for emergencies, but don't bother with 911.
Just call me if you need anything. I'd advise you to let the machine get any
calls, but I'll give you a call later today to check on you, if I don't hear
from you first. Caller ID will let you know who is calling."  
  
"I know how the phone works, Mom."  
  
She clucks. "I know, I'm just, well, I feel bad leaving you alone like this.
I'd call out sick, but I have an important meeting today. I also doubt you
want your old mom hovering around you all day."  
  
I sigh. I'm feeling a mix of lust, resentment, anger, and guilt. "You're not
old, Mom. You're great, and I've missed you. I wouldn't mind spending the day
with you, at normal size anyway. But go to work. I'll be okay. Honest."  
  
She looks doubtful, but nods. She crouches down in front of the couch. "Give
me a hug," she says. She holds out a hand, and reluctantly, I wrap my arms
around a few of her fingers. I try to keep my dick out of the way, but it's
big and awkward and I haven't gotten used to it yet. I feel that same electric
charge as before when it comes into contact with her skin. She pulls her
fingers away from me than leans in and gives me a quick, dry kiss on the top
of my head. It's like being nudged by a soft, warm mattress.  
  
"Be good, stay safe, don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."  
  
"I will, Mom. Have a good day. Hey, maybe when you get home I'll be back to
normal."  
  
"That would be... that would be a relief, wouldn't it?" she says. She gives me
another kiss, and heads to the kitchen to gather her laptop and bag. The back
door shuts, and shortly after that, I hear her car start and she is gone.  
  
I'm alone. Tiny, naked, and stuck on a couch.  
  
I sit dejected, contemplating my predicament for a good long while.
Eventually, I give up feeling sorry for myself and approach the food and
water. I'm neither particularly hungry nor thirsty, which is odd, since I've
been at least dripping since my transformation. By rights I should be a
dehydrated husk at this point. But hey, magic, right? Not like I'm a science
major or anything, but still, the whole violation of physical laws thing kind
of gives me the willies.  
  
To take my mind off things, I scoop some water in my hands and drink. I nibble
on the lettuce and the meat -- it turns out to be ham after all -- and try to
bite into a cherry tomato. My teeth just aren't strong enough to break the
skin, so I give up.  
  
I flip on the TV after that. The remote works if I give the buttons a good
swat, and before long I'm scrolling through channels. There's not much on
during the day, I decide. Even with the thousand or so channels Mom gets
through the dish. Still, even though the television is the size of a movie
screen, it's much less jarring than anything else I've encountered so far,
precisely because it's the size of a movie screen. I'm familiar with that kind
of ratio, and the people on the TV screen don't look as large as they actually
are in relation to me, even when they go for a close-up. I find myself
relaxing a bit.  
  
But in my current state of abject arousal, I find myself coming back to the
exercise shows quite a lot. It's not long before I'm rubbing one out on the
towel at the far end of the couch. Fifteen minutes later I'm going again. I
can't control myself. I'm constantly on edge, I've been incredibly horny for
almost half a day, and even getting myself off feels extraordinarily good.
It's a relief in the truest sense of the word. The length of my orgasm is
extended, and while I'm cumming, I don't have to think about being small. The
sheer amount I generate is less fun, but it mostly soaks into the towel, and I
try to confine myself to the other end of the couch afterwards.  
  
I smell blueberries again. It takes me a few minutes to realize that it's my
cum that is generating the scent. More magic, I guess. And better than the
alternative, I suppose. Still, it's just another weird element to this whole
weird scenario. You'd think by now that I'd be inured to it, but no, every new
element keeps me unbalanced an uncomfortable.  
  
The phone rings a few times. Telemarketers and bill collectors mostly, and
around 11:00, Tony tries to reach me. I don't bother answering the phone, but
Tony asking to meet up for lunch depresses me even further.  
  
By noon, when Mom calls to check on me, I've jerked off three more times and
feel as though I've thoroughly explored my immediate environs and watched as
much TV as I can handle. Still, I put up a game face for Mom. "Are you
behaving yourself?" she asks, and the way she stresses the "behaving" makes me
blush.  
  
"More or less," I say.  
  
She clearly doesn't believe me. "Do me a favor and try not to play with it too
much." I turn even redder. How do moms know?  
  
I'm glad she can't see my expression, but I assure her I'll try. I try to
change the subject. "I'm really, really bored," I tell her.  
  
"Sorry to hear that, kiddo. Wish I could do something for you. There's a whole
rack of DVDs to watch, but you can't reach them right now. Just stay on the
couch, um, get some rest, and watch TV. Isn't there a game on somewhere or
something?"  
  
"Ok, I'll try." She lets me go, going off to eat lunch, but makes me promise
to call if I need anything. Yeah, Mom, I need to be taller. But whining won't
help anybody. When the phone call is over, I stare blankly at the TV for a
while, and then decide to "make the best of it." I don't care if it gets me in
trouble. I'm going exploring.  
  
I clamber over to the arm of the couch and look for handholds. It's a fifteen
foot drop to the floor, but the towels and the coverlet afford me something to
grip. I slip over the side, holding bunches of fabric in my hand, and start to
lower myself. My huge dick makes things uncomfortable and awkward, and when I
bump the sensitive head against the side of the couch, I release an
involuntary gasp and lose my hold. Sudden vertigo as gravity does its work and
I plummet fifteen feet.  
  
I cry out, an instant flash of a broken leg or worse filling my mind, and then
I hit the carpet. All the air is knocked out of me, but I bounce up and land
on my feet, sucking air through my teeth and wincing at the bit tip of my
tongue. I do a quick survey, find nothing broken. I'm whole, unharmed,
untouched. More magic, I guess. I flex my knees and attempt a hop.
Surprisingly, I bound ten relative feet up into the air, and my hands reach
out and grab the edge of the coffee table. I cling there for a second and then
drop back down, bouncing as I alight on the carpet.  
  
This is... okay, I decide. I can work with this.  
  
I've always been in good shape, and a few months in Australia hiking,
swimming, and surfing at every opportunity has left me in the best shape of my
life. Maybe compressing my molecules down to this size has done something to
me, too. I'm light as a feather, but clearly stronger than I am normally, and
capable of leaps that professional basketball players would envy. I bounce
around the room a bit, getting used to the action and activity. Before long,
I've figured out how to get from the floor to the top of the couch.  
  
I'm no longer bored. And to be honest, I'm starting to see what Mom was saying
before she left. The bit about few people seeing the world from this angle. I
feel like I have superpowers. Robbie Matheson: The Human Bouncy Ball.  
  
It's well into the afternoon when I decide to explore the rest of the house.
Everything is weird and huge and odd-looking. The kitchen looks slightly less
strange during the day, softened somewhat by the natural light streaming in
through the windows. Dad's old study is filled with bookshelves, a veritable
ladder for me at my current size. I make it up to the top of the desk, and see
a picture of Mom that's as tall as I am. It's a photo taken when she and Dad
were dating. She's young and cheerful, wearing some kind of peasant blouse and
big 80s hair. I find myself admiring the curves hidden by the blouse, and
slowly I realize that, while Mom was definitely well endowed as a twenty year
old, she's gotten bigger since then. Much bigger. A wicked idea occurs to me.  

In a trice I bound off the desk, rolling as I hit the ground. I leap across
the room to the staircase that leads upstairs, and bounce my way up to the
second floor. In a minute I've made it to Mom's room. I approach her short
bureau with some trepidation. My palms are sweaty, and my cock is dripping.
But it's always dripping lately, and I'm beginning to get used to it.  
  
I leap up onto the bureau. The big mirror gives me a shock, as I see myself at
this size for the first time. I'm nearly nine inches tall, I guess, stark
naked, plastered with sweat and other fluids. I don't look good, and framed
against the size of the room I look freakish. Quickly I look away, before I
get too depressed and lose my nerve.  
  
It's the work of long minutes to get a few drawers open. The top drawers hold
socks and stockings and panties, and while those interest me, they're not my
real goal. I'm hindered by trying not to leave pecker tracks everywhere I go,
but my newly discovered agility is a considerable aid in this regard.  
  
Eventually I get the drawer open that I want, by balancing on the drawer above
it and leaning over. I tug and tug, sliding around on my perch. I shouldn't be
able to move that much mass (it's a much bigger drawer), but somehow I manage
it. Once it's open about an inch, I'm able to wedge it open further, and drop
inside. With my whole body as a lever, I get the drawer open all the way and
stand up.  
  
Bras. Bras as far as the eye can see. Enormous, with cups large enough for me
to curl up in. Some plain and practical, some lacy and delicate, all of them
with underwire support to contain Mom's massive mammaries. I pick up the
nearest bra and flip it over. It's plain and purple. Immediately her scent
washes over me. I breathe in deeply. My cock twitches. I try to focus and find
the tag. When I finally do, my eyes fairly bug out of my face. Mom wears a 38F
bra. I had no idea. She must have these things custom made. My God... they're
enormous. Bigger than I imagined, bigger than anything I'd expect to see on a
real woman even while regular size. At Mom's present effective height...  
  
... unconsciously, I've been stroking my cock, and within moments I am
spraying the inside of the bra cup with my seed. I leave an unmistakable gelid
mess that drips down the interior of the cup and pools at the bottom. For once
I'm thankful of the blueberry scent. When the euphoria from my orgasm
subsides, I am suddenly awash in terror. What happens when she finds this? I'm
dead. I am so dead.  
  
I grab the bra and leap out of the drawer. With practiced leaps, I manage to
get the other drawers closed by bodyslamming them. Then I grab the soiled bra
again and leap towards Mom's hamper. With effort, I flip the top open and jam
the bra inside, doing my best to drag clothes over it and hide it. I leap down
and bound away, trying in my shame and worry to get back to the couch as soon
as possible. I'm halfway down the stairs before I realize that I manhandled
all that clothing more adeptly than I handled my own the night before. Am I
getting stronger, or just more used to my size? I chalk it off to shock and
hurry to the couch.  
  
That's where Mom finds me when she finally makes it home.  
  
4\.  
  
I have some stupid sitcom on when I hear the backdoor opening. I didn't even
hear her car. "Hi honey, I'm home!" Mom calls from the kitchen. I let myself
relax. It could have been anybody at the back door -- and sudden abject terror
gripped me at the thought of Clark finding me like this. I don't know why. He
seems like a nice enough guy. But still. I don't want anyone seeing me like
this, but especially not another dude.  
  
I hear Mom setting her bags on the kitchen table. She appears over the back of
the couch. She surveys the mess I've left on the towels and shakes her head.
But she's smiling. In fact, she looks downright cheerful. And incredibly
gorgeous. Her cheeks are bright, her eyes playful.  
  
"I see my little man has been keeping himself busy." She leans down over the
back of the couch and easily catches me. For a moment I think about leaping
away, but decide to keep that talent a secret for now. I'm not sure if Mom is
aware of that ability yet. Besides, ashamed as I am to admit it, I like it
when she holds me. She cups one hand under my butt and the other behind my
back to keep me steady. I reach out and balance myself by holding her thumbs.  
  
"That thing never goes down, does it?" she says. She said that earlier in the
day, too, and the effect is still largely the same. My whole body turns red,
eliciting a throaty laugh from Mom. "Six orgasms in an eight hour period, and
you're still raging and ready to go. Maybe I should market those pies, they're
clearly better than Viagra."  
  
I risk a glance over my shoulder at the mess I've left on the towels. How
could Mom guess from that the exact number of times I jacked off? Especially
since one of them wasn't anywhere near the couch.  
  
"Come on," Mom says. "You stink of blueberries. And I need a shower before I
make dinner." Despite myself, my dick throbs at the possibilities inherent in
those two sentences, and Mom chuckles throatily again.  
  
Mom nonchalantly carries me up the stairs, all but cradled to her impressive
bosom. I get lost a little bit contemplating the line of cleavage as it
disappears beneath the collar of her blouse. There's just something about that
separation between breasts that drives me crazy. I barely hear her talking
about her day. Something about that important meeting in the afternoon being
difficult to get through, and how unsettled she was in the morning. Worried
about me, I guess, although she doesn't quite say that. Still, the implication
is that I'm involved, or at least, "what I had gotten up to."  
  
We sweep into Mom's room. I peak guiltily at the hamper, but she doesn't seem
to notice. She pauses at the low bureau for a moment, but if I left anything
out of place, she doesn't say.  
  
Mom sets me down on the marble top of her long, low sink. The huge mirror
forces me to realize just how great the disparity is between us. I'm tiny.
She's huge. Paradoxically, my dick gives another excited little throb. I hope
Mom doesn't see, although when I look up into the reflection of her eyes,
she's clearly admiring the size difference as well. Beneath her lightly
applied rouge, her cheeks are flushing.  
  
There are two sinks, as well as a large accoutrement of beauty aids, unguents,
lotions, soaps, creams, and so on, spread across the marble. There's a
gigantic hairdryer and hair curler down by the wall. I don't want to go
anywhere near those. Long, loose black hairs are everywhere.  
  
Mom turns on the faucet at the nearest sink, testing the water to make sure
it's neither too warm nor too cold. I give her a questioning look, and she
smiles warmly. "The tub is a little too big for you, I think." As the sink
fills with water, I'm forced to agree with her. It looks like a private pool.
Mom pours some bubble bath liquid into the water and it starts to foam up. She
contemplates the huge slab of soap by the faucet knob, but decides to give me
some softsoap.  
  
"Hold out your hands," she says. I dutifully do, and she squeezes the top,
sending a streamer of soap into my cupped palms. Unselfconsciously, I start
lathering up my chest and arms and shoulders. Mom watches for a moment, then
looses a deep sigh and turns to go.  
  
"Hey," I hear myself say. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Um... to clean up the living room and give you some privacy."  
  
I shrug in what I hope is a nonchalant manner. My stomach is a nest of adders
at this point, but my horniness gives me courage. "I thought you were going to
take a shower."  
  
Those pretty eyebrows arch upward. "With you in the room? I hardly think so."  
  
"Well, gosh Mom, you've seen everything I've got. Here I am rocking out with
my cock out, in my birthday suit. It's hardly fair."  
  
She is silent for a long while, looking at me. I'm trying not to breathe too
heavily, but I fear I've gone too far. I stop rubbing soap into my skin,
primarily because at this point I have to go south of the border, and that
could set off an explosion.  
  
Finally, Mom opens her full lips. "Robbie," she says slowly, "I am your..."
but she trails off. A sort of hungry look comes into her big, beautiful gray
eyes. It should frighten me, that look, but instead it makes me bolder.  
  
I put my hands on my length and start to slowly soap it up. Mom sucks in a
shuddering breath and kind of shivers.  
  
"Do you... do you have any idea what you are suggesting?" I nod slowly. "Are
you prepared for what might happen?" I think a moment. I nod again.  
  
Mom smiles suddenly, a broad and shining smile that makes my heart skip a
beat. It's as though some inner debate has been argued and settled. She
relaxes. And begins to undress. She does it slowly, neither sensuously nor
businesslike, but in a measured manner.  
  
Mom unbuttons her cuffs. She starts unbuttoning her blouse, and as her hands
move down the shirt, she tugs a bit, untucking it from her skirt. With the
shirt loose on her, she reaches up and takes off her earrings, setting them
down on the sink by my feet. Her necklace is next, the chain settling into a
pool of gold by the earrings.  
  
Mom's smile broadens and she shrugs her shoulders, sending the blouse off of
them. A slight movement of her arms and the garment slides free, falling
lightly to the floor. And her magnificent breasts are visible, all but
overflowing over a simple modest black bra.  
  
Mom unsnaps her skirt and shimmies it down her long, long legs. Her stockings
are black, with a sexy lace border at the top. I see her garters and hose, and
framed between them, a pair of black high-cut panties that mold tightly
against her sex. It's not my imagination either -- the gusset is soaking wet,
stained an even darker black around her hidden pussy.  
  
There's no pretense about what I'm doing now. I'm not washing my dick, I am
jerking myself off while I ogle my own mother. This is so very, very wrong,
but I can't help myself. I try to blame the hex. Maybe it's even responsible.
She did call it an aphrodisiac.  
  
Mom unhooks her garter belt and the tapes, and slides it down her legs. She
finally kicks off her pumps, adding them to the growing pile on the floor.
Still watching me, she puts one twenty-five foot pin up on the edge of the tub
and slowly winds her left stocking down to her foot and peels it off. She
repeats the process with the right leg, but this time she puts a little
"oomph" into it, sliding her hand across the material to make it whisper
before she removes it.  
  
Mom stands up in front of me, naked except for bra and panties. She could be
in a bikini, but we both know that's not the case. Were there any flaws in her
form, they would be revealed. But there's nothing. No blemish in her skin, no
cellulite, hardly an ounce of fat. She's perfect. Her belly is smooth, her
belly button an innie, and her stomach has just a little bit of a pouch as it
descends into her pubis.  
  
Mom is beaming. I guess my adoration is unmistakable. Precum drips in copious
amounts from the end of my soapy cock, making a puddle on the marble.  
  
"One of the first things I used my magic on was my body," Mom says quietly, as
if she's embarrassed to admit it. "I hope you like it."  
  
I groan. "Mom, you look amazing." My voice is hoarse, almost a croak, but if
anything, Mom's smile widens.  
  
She reaches behind her back, and I hear her bra strap unsnap. She holds the
cups with one hand and lowers the shoulder straps, pulling her sixteen foot
long arms through them, until she is only protected by the thin bits of fabric
that she is holding up herself.  
  
Then she drops it.  
  
Mom's gigantic tits bounce and jiggle a bit as they settle on her chest, free
from all support. Breasts that massive should hang further than they do, but
gravity has only a slight hold on them. They are high and proud and full,
round and firm milky white, with gigantic strawberry pink areolas that are
each a yard in diameter, crowned by erect pink nipples. In a word:
magnificent. Enormously magnificent. Her tits are nearly as big as I am, and
just perfectly shaped and beautiful. Obviously the biggest tits I've ever
seen, but they're also the prettiest and most spectacular pair I've ever laid
eyes upon.  
  
I should probably have better control, but at that point the inevitable
happens. The first arc of cum from the tip of my cock sprays across the marble
top and the intervening space and actually splatters across Mom's belly. In an
instant, her right hand is beneath me, cupped to catch my spray as it empties
out of me, pulse by pulse. Her huge tits sway with her movement, and it looks
so tremendous that my heart stops beating for just a moment. Mom is shuddering
and shaking a bit, her hand bobbing before me, and her upper teeth are rubbing
sensuously against her bottom lip. I squirt over and over. Loud splat-splat
sounds echo from Mom's palm as my flood pours out, over and over.  
  
Finally I fall backward on my heels, gasping, soap and sweat and other fluids
streaming from me. Mom smiles sweetly. She contemplates the mess in her hand,
and seems to hesitate a moment before turning on the other sink to wash my
spend away.  
  
"Well," she says. Her eyes are shining, and the skin on the upper slopes of
her breasts is flushed. Her right hand flutters in the direction of her soaked
panties for a moment, but quickly rises back up above her waist. "That was
quite a show for both of us, I guess."  
  
She reaches toward me and gently nudges me into the bubble bath filled sink.
"Clean up, sweetie. I'll do the same, and then we'll have dinner. Okay?"  
  
No. No, definitely not "okay." With my orgasm over, my mind somewhat clear
again, I am once more consumed by guilt and feeling a little sick.  
  
I slide into the sink. The water has cooled in the interim, but it's warm
enough. Mom turns around, pulls the shower curtain back and starts the water.
Without looking back at me, she peels her panties off, sliding them down her
legs. She bends her knees to keep her happy place hidden, but I get a
beautiful view of her plush, springy, enormous backside. Lust thunders back
into my system. Taboos be damned.  
  
I watch with admiration as my mother climbs into the shower, and pulls the
curtain closed behind her. The light yellow curtain is largely opaque, but I
can seem Mom's curvy silhouette through it as she stretches out beneath the
shower spray.  
  
I find my feet on the bottom of the sink, allowing me to stand about chest
deep in the water, and begin to wash myself as best I can. And I watch as Mom
soaps her loufa and scrubs every inch of her magnificent body.  
  
I climb out of the sink when I'm done and sit as best I can, admiring the
view. To my dismay, when the shower is over, Mom reaches through the curtain
to grab a towel, and when she finally emerges, she is securely wrapped in
terrycloth.  
  
I watch bemused as she leaves for the bedroom. I say nothing, as there is a
troubled expression on her face. I myself should feel more troubled than I do.
A function of the hex, I suppose.  
  
A thought occurs to me. Why is Mom acting this way? The spell only affected
me, didn't it? I ponder this while I wait for her. I could easily jump down
from the sink and stroll or bounce into the bedroom to watch her dress, but I
hold myself back. For one, I still don't yet wish to reveal my agility, and
for another, I want to try to respect her privacy. Particularly given what I
did in the afternoon.  
  
At length, Mom returns. She's dressed in a loose, blue button down shirt. The
tails obscure her thighs and what, if anything, she is wearing beneath. The
top is unbuttoned almost to her waist, revealing a bright pink tank top
underneath. I don't think she is wearing a bra, given the way her own tanks
roll and sway beneath the fabric.  
  
Mom holds out her left hand at the edge of the marble counter. "Are you
hungry?" she asks. Her voice is light, or as light as her husky, altered
giantess voice can get. "I'm famished."  
  
When I hesitate, she gestures with her right hand, and at last I take the step
off the counter into her palm. My feet sink into her skin a little, and she
steadies me with her other hand. I lean back into her right hand and spread my
arms for support, unintentionally showing off the goods. Mom giggles
uncertainly. Her nervousness somehow makes me relax a little bit. Knowing that
she is as weirded out by all this as I am makes me more comfortable.  
  
Mom carries me back downstairs, one eye on where she is going, and the other
watching me. I make no effort to disguise my admiration of her mammoth bosom.  
  
At last we reach the kitchen, and Mom sets me down on the island.  
  
5\.  
  
Mom starts taking out pans and pots, a box of pasta, a piece of chicken, some
peppers and onions. She dices meat and vegetables, boils water, pours the
pasta in to let it cook. Drizzles olive oil in the pan and fries up the
chicken and vegetable in it, adding a few pinches of things to enhance the
taste. While she cooks, we talk.  
  
"So I told Clark about what happened."  
  
Sudden surge of panic, unavoidable. "What?" I blurt out.  
  
She hastens to reassure me. "Just the part about you eating the pie, not the,
well, you know. Don't worry, he agreed to keep away until I tell him it's safe
to visit. He is, well, acquainted with the particular vulnerability you must
be feeling. Shall we say."  
  
"So you and him...?"  
  
Mom coughs daintily, blushing a little. "Well, yes, of course. Who else do you
think I'd let eat the other pieces of pie? Its harmless fun, normally. Just
lasts a little while, and we both enjoy the change in size... and shift in
power."  
  
Okay, well, I don't really need to know this kind of stuff. Mom looks at me
over her shoulder. "Are you jealous, Robbie?"  
  
I think for a moment. "No," I finally admit. "I suppose not."  
  
Mom nods. "Good. You have nothing to be jealous about. He's my boyfriend, but
you're my son. You will always come first for me." She sets down the spatula
in her hand and steps toward the island. She puts a hand down near where I'm
sitting, sort of half-cupping me. "However," she continues, "I don't want the
reverse to be true. Whatever... happens... and I'm not saying anything will,
or, I guess, anything more will happen, but... whatever happens, you need to
find some girl of your own and get married. I expect grandchildren some day."  
  
I flush. "Mom, I don't... I mean, that, that's not even really a concern right
now. I'm 22! I haven't found the right girl yet." Have I?  
  
Mom retreats. "Okay, that's fine. I was settled down by the time I was your
age, but that doesn't have to be the case with you." She returns to the stove.  
  
To change the subject, I say, "So Clark is okay with the magic and the
shrinking and what have you?"  
  
"Oh, sure. How do you think we met? Clark's an occultist, like me. I suppose
you'd call him a warlock, but we're really all just witches."  
  
"I had no idea... how long have you been a witch?"  
  
"Oh, not too long. After your dad died and you moved away to college, I had to
do something with myself. I tried hobbies and book groups and things.
Knitting, gardening, etc. Actually, it was the gardening that got me into
herbalism and then into potions and magic and so on. I dabbled for a few
years, and only cast my first successful spell a few months ago, right around
the time you left for Australia.  
  
"It was slow going at first, but once you figure out how to convert energy
into mass and mass into energy, it's really a snap."  
  
"Mom, that's insane."  
  
"Yes, I suppose." Mom begins to set the table. She puts out a large plate for
herself, as well as silverware and a wine glass. She puts a small plate in my
spot, and adds a small cup filled with toothpicks and a shot glass which she
turns over.  
  
"You're violating physical laws. Thermodynamics, Mom! They're not just
theories!" I don't know why this bothers me so much. I really am not a
scientist.  

Mom shrugs and smiles. "Remember when you explained your computer games to me?
Like, when some level was too tough for you, you'd use a cheat code to get
past the tough part?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"Well, think of magic as the cheat codes to reality. And don't think I'm some
kind of will-worker or full blown wizard or something. The stuff I do is
generally temporary, and I don't meddle in things that I don't understand.
Usually." She pours herself some wine and sips it before returning to the
island.  
  
Mom makes a ledge with her hand for me once again. I step on. She carries me
to the table and sets me down. "You can use the shot glass as a stool, if you
want," she says. She points at my rampant erection and adds, "That's going to
be very distracting during dinner." She hands me a napkin. "Just cover
yourself up a bit, please."  
  
I comply, wrapping the napkin around my waist like a towel. I have to adjust
it higher so that it covers my dick, and precum leaks into the paper almost
immediately. But at least I'm covered.  
  
Mom starts putting food on plates, giving me only a little bit. "The only
semi-permanent changes I've made are to my own body, and mostly all I did was
convert my extra mass into healthier tissue. I cleaned up my skin, made my
boobs a little bigger," and here she pauses to cup one of her massive tits,
"fixed my vision, tightened up a few areas, y'know, rotated the tires and so
on.  
  
"But even that's mostly cosmetic. I can't extend my lifespan indefinitely,
just make sure I'm healthier than I otherwise would be while I'm here.
Exercise and a good diet do the rest." She's nonchalant about it, but she
really has transformed herself into something unbelievably gorgeous and sexy
and vibrant.  
  
"Could you do that sort of thing for anyone?"  
  
Mom picks up a fork and scoops up some food. It makes me slightly queasy,
seeing her easily manipulate what amounts to a battering ram or pike to me,
and I have to look away at my own meager plate. I take a toothpick and spear
some chicken. "What do you mean?" she says. I hear a playfulness in her voice.
"When you get bigger, do you want to keep that epic cock between your legs?"  
  
I nearly choke on my food. Mom ignores my discomfort. "Because I have to tell
you honey, at normal size, something like that could hurt somebody." She makes
an indistinct noise, which draws my eyes back to her. There's a dreamy, far
away look on her face. "Although it would be fun to try it out..."  
  
"Mom!"  
  
"Well, theoretically. If you weren't my son, you understand."  
  
"And, uh, what else would you do if I weren't your son?" I say, looking
intently at my plate.  
  
Mom is quiet. "And we're back to this again," she says eventually. "You
shouldn't say things like that, Robbie, not when w -- when you're in the state
that you're in."  
  
I look up at her, into her big gray eyes. "I'm not the only one in a state, am
I, Mom?"  
  
"I don't know what you're-"  
  
"Mom." She's never been good at lying to me.  
  
She sighs, looks down at her plate, pushes food around with a fork almost as
long as I am tall. "Okay, so you've figured it out. You and I are linked
through the pie you ate. I've been walking around for the past day and a half
just as aroused as you are, although I thought I'd been hiding it better."  
  
"Huh."  
  
"Yeah, well, it gets worse." She sighs again, looks up at me. "Every time
you... well, every time you orgasm, so do I. Little ones mostly, but a couple
in a row add up to big ones. You set one off in the middle of the meeting
today, which made things a little awkward."  
  
"Holy shit." It's all I can say. I mean, I suspected, but to have her confirm
it... Mind = blown.  
  
"So you can see the kind of trouble we could get into. Have gotten into.
Neither one of us is thinking straight."  
  
"Can you blame me, Mom? I mean, look at you."  
  
She blushes, laughs uncomfortably. I'm about to make her more uncomfortable,
but maybe I'll kick this thing to the next level. I'm hardly aware of what
I've decided to do even as I do it.  
  
I stand up. I pull the napkin away from me. My distended cock hangs downward,
pointing like a divining rod in Mom's direction. She watches me, frowning
slightly, but clearly curious. I pick up the shot glass and flip it over. My
stool becomes a bucket. I take my cock in both hands and begin to stroke. I
look Mom in the eyes while I do.  
  
Her eyes get bright, her cheeks flushed. Her hands flutter beside her plate.
"What do you think you're doing, young man?" She could stop me, easily. But
she doesn't.  
  
I don't answer. I just keep tugging away, watching her, thinking about her
enormous size, her perfect shape, her magnificent breasts and long, long legs.
Her full lips part and she pants slightly. The eyes are glazing over. I'm
beginning to crest. Mom's eyes roll back and she shakes in her seat, rattling
her silverware, shaking the table under my feet. Somehow I maintain my balance
and aim my erupting cock into the shot glass. I cum and cum and cum, spraying
my seed for the umpteenth time that day. Slowly the shot glass begins to fill.  
  
Mom comes down, breathing heavily. Her tits lurch enticingly in her tank top.
"That was very inappropriate, Robbie," she says.  
  
My cock is still hard, of course. I wipe the cockhead on the edge of the
glass, squeezing the last bits into the receptacle. And I start jacking again.
Mom moans, a sound that sends a pleasant shiver down my back. "You shouldn't
do this," she says, but her protest is a weak one. I watch, still manipulating
myself, as one of Mom's hands drifts below the table.  
  
Suddenly I feel a phantom caress on the length of my cock, as if someone else
is touching me, but only my hands are connected. Is Mom teasing the folds of
her pussy? The thought of her yet unseen treasure is enough in my current
state to trigger my second orgasm. The amount of semen I generate does not
flag, and I add another generous amount to the bucket. Three quarters of the
way full.  
  
"Oh, Robbie," Mom moans as she rides her own climax. She cups a generous
breast through shirt and tank top, while her other hand is busy under the
table. The wine glass jumps a little. I'm barely doing anything now, as Mom's
masturbatory manipulations create phantom sensations across my length. I'm
erupting in no time at all, unleashing another torrent of pearly white,
viscous fluid. By this time, what I am expelling is thick and creamy, and the
sensation as it erupts from the end of my rod is hard to describe, but mind-
blowing. All I smell is blueberries. The table shakes like an earthquake
beneath me. I almost lose my footing, but my newfound agility keeps me
upright. Cum sloshes around the edge of the glass onto the table top.  
  
Mom's eyes are half-lidded and glazed with lust. She releases a shuddering
breath. "You naughty, naughty, naughty boy." Still cupping her breast, her
other hand comes up from beneath the table, glistening with fluid. She gives
me a gentle poke with her forefinger, leaving a glistening trail on my chest.  
  
Mom picks up the shot glass filled with my cum. She contemplates it with her
sleepy-eyed gaze. She brings it to her lips and tips it backwards. The liquid
pours into her mouth, down her throat. Mom swallows greedily, moaning as she
does. She watches me over the rim of the glass as I watch her throat work.  
  
My own mouth has dropped open. I'm speechless, consumed with twisted, taboo
lust.  
  
Mom sets the empty shot glass back on the table. Her huge pink tongue swipes a
trail of creamy cum off her bottom lip.  
  
Mom leans forward. "Well now," she says in that husky, giantess voice of hers.
"What shall we do with the rest of our evening?"




        Hexed Ch. 02


_This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is
purely coincidental. All characters are 18 or older. This story features my
usual themes of Oedipal incest, exaggerated bodies, and copious fluids. _  
  
6\.  
  
Dinner is forgotten. Mom scoops me up unceremoniously and strides purposefully
through the house, up the stairs to her bedroom. She holds me purposefully at
boob level, allowing me to watch as her prodigious curves roll and swell
within the confines of her tank top.  
  
"That was probably the worst thing you could have done, Robbie," Mom says
above me. I hold on to her thumbs for dear life as she glides through the
house. "Your mother is a bit of a cumfiend, you see. That's why I wrote that
little variation in the hex that gives the subject such a large manhood, and
correspondingly increased volume of issue.  
  
"I'm afraid I just can't help myself after that little display. I think you
feel the same, but honestly, if you asked me to stop at this point, I'm not
sure I could." She smiles hungrily, sexily. "Not that you could stop me,
either."  
  
I look up, past Mom's breasts, into her face, and I know, because I know my
Mom, that despite what she's saying, one word from me would indeed halt what I
think is about to happen. I don't say anything, though. I'm not sure I'm
capable of speech at this moment. I'm still a little shell-shocked from
watching my Mom down a shot glass filled to the brim with my cum. Shell-
shocked, and incredibly aroused.  
  
So I nod.  
  
Mom releases a long-held breath, which ruffles my hair. We are at the
threshold to her bedroom. Mom licks her lips and bats her eyelashes, bites a
little into her lower lip. We enter her bedroom.  
  
Mom turns on lights and stands holding me before the large mirror over her
bureau. She turns me around, so that we're both looking at the two of us, at
the extreme difference in our sizes. My rampant erection, dripping precum, is
clearly visible, as are the hard points of Mom's nipples through her tank top.  
  
"Are you prepared for this, son? Are you ready to make love to a fifty foot
tall woman? Do you really think you can handle this?"  
  
I take a deep breath. Release it. "Yes," I say. "Very much yes."  
  
Mom laughs, and we whirl around, which makes me dizzy. Mom sets me on the edge
of her huge bed. It looks as large as a soccer field, and my feet sink into
the comforter on top. I look up and up at Mom. She steps back from the bed a
bit, regarding me through her heavy lidded eyes.  
  
Mom unfastens the few remaining buttons in her shirt and lets it slip off her
shoulders. The tank top looks two sizes too small, molding tightly to her
skin, forcing her humongous tits into prominence. The straps cut into the skin
of her shoulders, and the bottom of the shirt stops just below her belly
button, leaving a delicious expanse of bare flesh that stretches down to the
top of the hot pink panties she wears.  
  
The panties are high cut on her broad hips. The front is soaking wet and
molded to the shape of her pussy. I can smell her from where I stand on the
bed, a sweet, salty scent of lust that makes my dick throb eagerly. For the
first time, the logistics of the size of my body vs. the size of her vagina
gives me pause, but before I can complete the thought, Mom distracts me.  
  
She grabs the bottom of the tank top and peels it upward, removing it entirely
in one smooth movement. Those magnificent breasts are revealed again, every
inch perfect and beautiful and full and round. They bob and bounce with her
movements, hard nipples moving hypnotically at their centers. I expect to see
her sweep the panties off too, but instead Mom bends at the waist, catching
herself with her hands on the edge of the bed.  
  
Her huge tits hang like fruit from her chest, swinging playfully before me.
Mom's long black hair hangs down over my head. Slowly she advances, one knee
coming up onto the bed, forcing her body to rise up and over me. I stagger
backwards on the uneven footing, somehow managing to keep my balance as her
beautiful breasts sway overhead.  
  
I scurry backwards, keeping Mom's breasts in view, as her whole body settles
onto the bed. The mattress groans underneath me, shifting under my feet. Mom
suddenly moves, quick and cat-like, lowering her body so that her massive
right tit swings into me and bowls me over. I land on my ass on the downy
comforter, slightly dazed from both the force of the impact and by the touch
of her skin against mine.  
  
With me still flat on my back, Mom lowers her breast right onto me. The hard
nubbin of her nipple presses into my belly, while the rest of her soft, supple
breastflesh rolls over me. My cock shudders as it connects with her skin,
leaving trails of precum on her table-sized areola. I wrap my arms around her
breast, grabbing handfuls of soft flesh to squeeze and knead as best I can. My
hips thrust against her, pushing my cock harder into her breast.  
  
Above me, all but invisible behind her boob, I hear Mom laughing lightly. She
bounces a little, knocking me back into the comforter and mattress, her hard
nipple poking me in the gut. My cock flexes and rubs against her skin. I feel
those phantom touches caress its length, just lightly, but definitely there.  
  
Mom rises up, giving me a chance to catch my breath. But it lasts only a
moment, as she switches breasts. Her gigantic left breast, which may actually
be slightly larger than the right one, settles over me. Her nipple just barely
misses squashing my balls, instead pressing into the comforter between my
legs. "Watch it!" I shout, my voice garbled by a mouth full of breastflesh.
Mom repositions, and her nipple finds its target, jabbing me in the gut again.
The edge of her strawberry pink areola is in my vision, and I start to lick
along its arc. I'm not sure if she feels my little tongue.  
  
I feel Mom's fingers slide under me, pressing into my back. She rises again,
this time holding me against her tit. Instinctively I wrap arms and legs
around her mammary. Her breast is so large and full that almost my entire body
covers it.  
  
Mom's fingers fall away, all but one, which slides down my back to press
firmly and insistently against my ass. "Fuck my tit," she commands. Her finger
urges me to comply, pushing me into her breast.  
  
Jesus Christ. I hardly need her holding me there. My hips start thrusting all
on their own, and I hammer my cock into Mom's silky soft breastflesh again and
again. Her broad nipple flattens against my stomach as I drive forward over
and over again. The head of my cock is trapped between my breastbone and Mom's
breast, sawing between them as I jam myself against her. Precum coats my chest
and her skin, smeared by my frantic movements. Mom keeps pushing, lightly to
keep from hurting me, letting me do most of the work. Her huge breast slowly
sways and bounces beneath me as Mom's body movies. It's like having sex with a
waterbed. Not on, with. Albeit a waterbed that is warm and soft and smells
like an aroused, gigantic woman.  
  
Phantom touches along the length of my thrusting cock make me imagine Mom's
other hand thrust deep between her legs, fingers almost as long as my legs
teasing her pink, moist folds. I feel the charge build at the base of my cock,
as the unstoppable urge to cum rises and rises and rises. I try to pull my
body backward to aim my cock at Mom's breast, but she holds me pinned against
her. My cock lurches, bucks, and I feel the load travel along its engorged
length and erupt from the slit. I turn my head, but still get sprayed along
the side of my chest, throat and cheek. Another epic load explodes out of me,
thick and creamy, coating Mom's breast and my body as it pours out of me. Mom
relaxes her hold slightly after the first few pulses.  
  
Her right hand, slick with her own juices, comes up and her forefinger lies
against the top of my cock, pinning it to her tit as it sprays and sprays and
sprays its load, coating Mom's areola and nipple in a creamy glaze of spunk.
When my flood at last subsides, Mom's forefinger sweeps along the length, as
if to squeeze out the last few drops. The finger continues up her tit,
spreading the pool of cum around on her breast. With a throaty giggle, Mom
presses me into the mess. I have just enough time to turn my head and close my
eye, but I'm coated in my own spunk.  
  
Could be worse, I guess. At least it smells like blueberries.  
  
Mom lifts me up in the palm of her hand, up over her head. I'm dripping, my
chest, cock, thighs, and the left side of my face coated with my own semen. I
fight the urge to gag.  
  
"Poor baby," Mom says. "But you'll like this part, I promise."  
  
I look down her long arm, into her eyes, and she opens her mouth wide, licking
her lower lip with her huge, pink tongue. She brings me lower, wagging the tip
of her tongue at me playfully, sensuously, and then brings me to her lips.  
  
Her tongue extends, and swipes a trail across my entire body, cleaning the cum
from me, and leaving bubbles of saliva in its place. I start to laugh, despite
myself. I am slightly ticklish, and her tongue hits me in a sensitive spot.
This starts Mom chuckling, which shakes my body. She starts to lick me all
over, cleaning up every drop of spunk from my body. She pays special attention
to my distended cock, sweeping her flexible, sensitive tongue up and down its
length, teasing my sensitive balls.  
  
She plants a kiss on the side of my face, sucking lightly, vacuuming up the
cum on my cheek and hair. She sucks a foot into her mouth, and teases my toes
with her tongue. This too is ticklish, and I tug it quickly out of her mouth.
Mom is amused. She kisses my chest, pressing my cock against my belly with her
lips. She kisses my hips, rotates me, and plants a wet one on my ass. When her
tongue starts to nudge between my cheeks, I kick a little and shout, "Cut that
out!"  
  
Mom instantly retreats. "Sorry," she says. "Got excited."  
  
"I can tell," I say, rolling over in her hand.  
  
Mom holds me out a bit from her, arm flexed to keep me above her chest, about
head level. I look down, admiring her massive chest, and the smears of jism I
deposited on her left tit. Mom's right hand comes up, cups her breast, teases
the nipple a little, and scoops up a trail of cum with her forefinger. She
brings it to her mouth and sucks on it, cleaning it. She does this twice more,
cleaning herself of the evidence of my explosion and incidentally putting more
steel in my rod.  
  
Mom licks her lips. "Ready for more?"  
  
I give my hips a little thrust and smile eagerly. She brings me to her mouth
again. Her lips press against my cockhead, giving it a little kiss. Mom's lips
part, her hand pushes forward, and I slide into her mouth. Her plush lips
close around the base of my cock, catching up my swollen balls between them. I
feel her lips on my thighs and belly, and wrap my arms around her cheeks,
looking directly into her left eye, as she has to rotate me a little to keep
her nose from crushing my chest.  
  
Her breath washes over me as she begins to gently suck. My cock shivers
between her lips, and I feel her tongue teasing the head as it slides back in
forth in her mouth. I push my hips, thrusting forward. Mom's palm cradles me
gently as I begin to fuck her face. My cock and crotch and waist are drenched
in her saliva in moments, and it drips down my legs, mixing with the copious
amounts of precum that I am practically spraying into her mouth. Mom moans,
the vibrations rattling my chest. The physical sensation of her mouth and
tongue are joined by the phantom sensation that tells me she is teasing her
pussy with her fingers.  
  
I can't possibly last long doing this, and I don't. In a handful of
heartbeats, I lunge forward as far as I can and feel my cock lurch between
Mom's full lips and begin jettisoning its payload into her mouth. Her own
orgasm crests as mine does, but she keeps me steady as her body shakes and
shudders beneath me. My fingers sink into her cheeks as my whole body
contracts, as if I'm emptying my whole insides into her mouth. My cock throbs
hard as each creamy jet splatters across Mom's tongue.  
  
This is beyond pleasure, into a realm undreamt of. I'm not sure I ever want to
get bigger.  
  
Finally I subside, the last few dregs of my orgasm squirting out onto Mom's
tongue. She pulls me out, a thin strand of fluid connecting lips to cock for a
moment before she smiles at me. She opens her mouth, lets me see the creamy
load floating on her tongue, and then noisily gulps it down. The view of her
gullet sends a frisson of fear down my back, but only briefly. Lust is all-
consuming at this point.  
  
"Mmmm," Mom says, "tasty."  
  
"Happy to oblige, ma'am," I say, more than a little breathless. Mom smiles
broadly. She drags her tongue across my body once more.  
  
The world suddenly spins. My stomach lurches. For a moment I fear something
horrible is happening, but then I realize that Mom has simply shifted on the
bed.  
  
She rolls over and lies down on her back, reclining against the pillows that
nestle against the headboard. She sets me face down between her breasts,
within the cavernous valley of her cleavage. I lay there for a moment,
reveling in the feel and smell and taste of her, and then I rise up on hands
and knees. Mom cranes her neck to look at me, almost cross-eyed. I feel her
body move beneath me, and the walls of flesh at my side begin to close around
me.  
  
Quickly I roll over and stretch out. Her breasts push against me, soft and
firm at once, and I can see Mom's huge hands manipulating her nipples as she
directs her tits to buffet me. I bounce happily between them, spreading sweat
and precum against her flesh, and then suddenly she pulls them away and sort
of bumps her chest. I slide down from her cleavage onto her smooth, flat
belly.  
  
I watch as Mom raises both of her long, toned legs into the air. Her hands
slide past me down her belly and find the waist band of her panties. Her
fingers slip under it and begin to roll them down. Her pelvis rises, and I
hear something like a sucking sound and she pulls her panties free from her
crotch.  
  
I catch my first glimpse of Mom's pussy, a neatly trimmed patch of black hair
that glistens with moisture.  
  
In one smooth, quick movement, Mom pulls her panties free, and I watch as they
glide up her legs, over her dainty feet, and are cast off the side of the bed.  
  
Mom's legs slowly lower and spread, her hands on her thighs, fingers rubbing
her pale skin lightly. I rise to my feet, balancing awkwardly on Mom's belly,
and turn to look back at her face, framed between the mammoth hills of her
breasts. Once again I am struck by her size, her beauty, her sheer femininity.
She really is a goddess, a goddess of love and lust.  
  
She smiles at me and nods, her cheeks flush and her eyes glazed with hunger
and need. "Go ahead, sweetie. You want to, and I want you to."  
  
On suddenly weak, trembling legs I approach the prize, striding across the
expanse of her flat belly, over her cute belly button, and down the slope of
her pubis towards her crotch. She is wet. Soaking wet. Beads of moisture form
on her neatly trimmed bush, glistening in the lamplight. Below, she is shaved,
revealing the pink folds of her enormous pussy, open and inviting. I can see
the pink button of her clitoris, peaking out from beneath its fleshy hood.
It's about the size of a bowling ball, and begging to be touched. The scent is
overwhelming, enticing, sweet as sugar and salty as the sea. It makes my cock
throb between my legs and my balls swell with seed.  
  
I climb down to the surface of the bed, using Mom's hand and thighs as a
ladder. Her pussy is beautiful. I look down at my cock, and know that even at
its enhanced size, it's not going to do the trick.  
  
As if reading my mind, Mom says, "Don't worry about it sweetie." Her hand
pushes gently but insistently against my back, urging me forward. "Whatever
you do is going to feel fantastic."  
  
With a light step I approach, and lay my hands against her lips. She hitches
and gasps at my touch, and I grow bolder. My hands caress every inch of her
steaming pussy, teasing and pressing, clutching and manipulating. I'm soaked
to my wrists in moments. My cockhead brushes against her folds, and without
preamble I slowly sink into them. Hot, wet, wonderful. I press my whole body
against her, driving as deep as I can. I reach up and wrap my hands around her
bulging clit, gripping lightly but forcefully, and begin to rub and tug it.  
  
Mom goes wild. Her thighs rise up around me, and her hips lift up off the bed,
taking me with them. I unconsciously tighten my grip on her clit, which makes
her cry out.  
  
Mom grabs me around the waist, pulling me out of her. I flail, my dick, coated
with her juices, bouncing painfully around. Mom flips me over a little, and
holding me rigid, presses my feet against the lips of her pussy. I sink into
her up to the ankles. She pulls me out. Her other hand is free, fingers
brushing against her clit.  
  
My arms are pinned at my sides. Panic rises in my chest. Mom is a little bit
out of control. I look up at her, past her steaming pussy, across the expanse
of her taut belly, through the canyon between her heaving breasts, at her
beautiful face, contorted with lust and hunger.  
  
I gulp. I'm going in. Might as well enjoy it.  
  
Mom pushes me into her. I sink up to my thighs. Her juices drip over my balls
and coat my cock as I slip deeper into her. Her grip shifts, her long fingers
wrapping around my shoulders, to urge me even deeper. I sink in up to my chest
before my feet hit something solid enough to stop me. My arms are free, and I
brace myself on her slick lips. Her interior muscles and folds envelop me,
expand and contract around me, caress every inch of my body. My cock is
squeezed against my chest again, which is not really where I want it. Still,
almost my entire body is soaking wet, warm, encased within my mother's vagina.
My life is insane and wrong and wonderful.  
  
With a combination of relatively gentle tugging and the contraction of her
pussy walls, Mom manages to expel me. Almost immediately I am thrust back
inside her, but it gives me the chance to reposition my dick, so that it is
angled away from me. At first it's uncomfortable, even with the phantom
sensations running up and down my length, but as soon as I sink into her
depths, it gets better. I'm sort of fucking her with my cock, even as she's
using my whole body to fuck herself.  
  
I should be screaming in terror, but instead I am having the time of my life.  
  
Mom uses me roughly, jabbing me into her folds again and again. Her hips keep
swinging up into the air, even as I'm being driven into her depths. I start
doing a modified dolphin kick inside her; despite my increased strength, my
mass remains small, and hers quite massive, so I can't push too hard against
her. Still, my movements are doing something, as I hear (and feel) her cry out
my name.  
  
"Robbie! Fuck! Whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it!" her voice rises
with each word and she trails off into a wordless sound.  
  
My cock wants to rebound onto my chest every time I am sucked out of Mom's
colossal pussy, so I have to keep it aimed with one hand. With my other hand I
reach out to her exposed clitoris, gently rapping it with a fist as I drive
back into her. This sets off another series of cries, and in short order Mom's
pussy contracts even harder around me, trapping me inside her, one arm pinned
down, my body wedged into her pussy up to one shoulder, the other hand
outside, pressing hard as I can against her clit.  
  
Her pussy contracts like a fist around me, squeezing hard, and her juices soak
my body, leaking out of the seal around my chest to wash into my face and down
my shoulders. The physical and phantom sensations are enough for me, and I
ride the crest along with her, emptying my weapon with salvo after salvo into
Mom's steaming depths. Despite the insanity of it all, I retain the presence
of mind to keep rapping away at her clitoris, which extends both her pleasure
and mine, until I think I might go insane, if I'm not already.  

We both ride it out. I think I'm screaming something along with Mom, might be
her name, or just one long moan that sounds like "Mom." It feels like my body
knows where it is, and the amount of cum I'm generating at this moment all but
dwarfs every previous orgasm I've had at this size. My cock jerks and bucks
and expels jet after jet into Mom, over and over again, until it actually
starts to feel raw and painful. Finally, I subside, and Mom drags my body,
soaking wet and stained by our combined fluids, out of her dripping pussy.  
  
I am bruised and battered. I feel as though I have just run a marathon without
any training, or been hit by a city bus. Such are the perils of making love to
a fifty foot woman.  
  
Mom is gasping, breathless, eyes unfocused, skin flushed. But she's coming
around. She carries me up to her chest cradled in both hands. "Oh, Robbie, my
poor baby," she coos. "You made Mommy very happy. Oh yes you did."  
  
I grunt something unintelligible.  
  
"And it looks like we finally tired out that beautiful muscle of yours." I
crack an eyelid, and look down at my crotch. She's right. For the first time
since eating that pie, my dick is flaccid.  
  
"Huh," I manage to say.  
  
Mom releases a throaty giggle. "You've earned your rest, sweetie. But first I
think we should clean you up."  
  
Even after everything that has just happened, I assume a trip to the sink is
in order. But no. My mother's agile tongue glides across my supine body, as
she laps up semen and vaginal juices from my bruised body. Her touch is
gentle, her smooth, muscular, moist tongue almost massages my weary muscles.
She washes me meticulously, carefully, and I drift off into a dreamless sleep
thanks to her ministrations.  
  
7\.  
  
I wake up disoriented, fuzzy brained. I'm lying on something soft and pink
that slowly rises and lowers and rumbles beneath me, while to my left and
right rise tall pink walls.  
  
I blink, remember it all, and realize I am lying in Mom's cleavage, between
her massive, gorgeous breasts. I am still sticky, mostly with saliva, but
still some coital fluids. My body hurts all over, but it's a good hurt, like
after a good workout. I stretch like a cat, and I feel strength returning to
my flaccid member. It is slowly rising and stiffening, as if it was just
waiting for me to awake.  
  
I turn around on my back and look up into Mom's smiling face.  
  
"Good morning sleepyhead," she says.  
  
"Is it morning already?" I croak.  
  
"No, just an expression. It's still early, actually, only a little after
10:00. You've been asleep for a few hours."  
  
"Sorry," I mumble, suddenly embarrassed, though I don't know why.  
  
"Don't be. You're incredibly cute when you're sleeping. I've been admiring
you."  
  
"You didn't nap?"  
  
"Oh, I dozed a little bit. After I cleaned you up I felt a little sleepy, but
I couldn't let myself nod off completely. I wanted to stay with you, and I
worry what would happen if we were both out. I could roll over and crush you."  
  
I can't suppress a shiver. "Thanks, Mom."  
  
"You're welcome. Like I said, you're cute when you're asleep. Even your little
snores are cute."  
  
Slowly I rise to my feet, balancing myself on the slopes of Mom's breasts. Her
eyebrows rise.  
  
"I see ALL of you is awake," she says with a giggle.  
  
I wag my hips a little, which sends my cock swinging around. "I can't help
what you do to me," I said.  
  
"Flatterer," Mom says, pretending to be annoyed. But her hands come up behind
and push me forward, and she plants a big wet kiss on my chest, followed by a
leisurely lick up across my pecks, neck and right cheek. Instantly I am at
full mast.  
  
Mom kisses her way down my body, starting with the side of my head, then my
pecs, abs, and finally my cock. After kissing it, she swallows my cock and
balls whole and sucks gently, licking me as I begin to thrust into her mouth.
I ride her lips to a quick, perfunctory climax that deposits a modest load on
her tongue. Once again she makes a show of swallowing it, eliciting equal
parts of terror and arousal as I look down her gullet and watch her throat
work.  
  
"Delicious," she says. Mom rolls over and sets me down on a pillow. She is
suddenly serious, fine brows drawn into a frown. "This is probably a stupid
question after your wake-up blowjob, but how are you doing with this? Are you
okay? Do you mind the fact that your own mother is using you like a sexual
toy?"  
  
I try to match her serious look, but can't. Instead I smile and laugh. "You're
using me? I don't think so." I clamber across the pillow to lay one of my tiny
hands across Mom's cheek. "Look, this is beyond weird. I think reality went
out the window the moment I started eating that pie. I'm nine inches or so
tall. You're fifty feet from my perspective. The sex is going to be weird, no
matter what you do or who you are.  
  
"But, y'know, I feel safe with you. I know you won't do anything that I don't
want to do, and I know that you won't hurt me. Meanwhile, I'm hornier than a
Frenchman in a Viking helmet, and honestly, you're the only person I could
trust to help me deal with that right now."  
  
I give Mom a peck on the lips that I hope she feels. "I guess I am okay with
this. At least from this perspective. I don't know what will happen when I get
back to full size – if I get back to full size – but right now I'm enjoying
myself."  
  
"Okay," Mom says. Despite her enormity, her voice is small. "I don't know what
will happen when you're big again, but don't worry about it not happening.
Trust me, I wouldn't let you stay that way."  
  
I nod. I do know that, I'm not even sure why I said "if." Maybe because part
of me kind of wants to stay small.  
  
"I love you honey, and I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." She smiles
suddenly, like a beam of sunshine through a black cloud. "I am too."  
  
"Good! I love you too, Mom."  
  
Mom gives me a kiss on the chest, which staggers me and knocks me back on my
ass on the pillow. Mom giggles.  
  
The bed lurches as she gets up. Parts of Mom's body lurch, too, which
dominates my attention. I watch as she glides off the bed. "Stay here a sec,"
she says. She pads naked into her bathroom and shuts the door. I lie back on
the pillow and admire the view while I can.  
  
A little while later I hear the shower start, and then switch over to the tub
faucet, a rumbling roar of water.  
  
The door opens and Mom returns to bed. She towers over me, standing beside the
bed, a human skyscraper, curvy and sensual and enormously beautiful. She
reaches a hand down and extends a finger, using the pad of it to gently caress
the length of my erect cock. "Ready for some more fun?"  
  
I flex my cock, slapping the cockhead against her fingertip. "What do you have
in mind?"  
  
In answer, Mom scoops me up in a now familiar movement and carries me into the
bathroom, cradled against her jiggling mammaries. Inside, she pauses again at
the mirror, allowing both of us to admire the difference in our sizes. The
glass is steamed, but we can both still make one another out. I still can't
get over how big she is, or how intoxicating that bigness has become. Maybe
she feels the same way about my size. She must, right?  
  
Mom turns, allowing me to see the tub filled with water. It's a big tub, inset
into the wall, with high marble walls, designed to accommodate my mom's taller
than average body. From my perspective, it looks like an Olympic sized
swimming pool. I imagine I can see curls of steam coming off the surface. Mom
lifts one impossibly long leg and settles into the tub. The water level rises
as her magnificent body slowly settles down into it. She is still holding me,
and smiling devilishly.  
  
I give her a questioning look, and the smile widens. Mom lifts her arms up and
gives me a little toss. I loose a small cry as I sail through the air away
from her and smash into the water between her knees. The water is warm, not
too hot, and the heat soaks into my tired muscles. I'm underwater only
briefly, admiring the view of my mother's legs and pussy and belly beneath the
water, before I kick myself back to the surface. I throw wet hair back and
spit a streamer of water.  
  
Mom's huge breasts break the surface of the water, floating serenely like
islands of flesh, crested by hard pink nipples. Beyond, her shoulders and head
are dry, and she is smiling brightly. "I thought for sure you'd do a
cannonball," she says.  
  
I wipe water off my face. "Kind of caught me by surprise, there."  
  
"Oh, did I?" Mom laughs. She slides under the water, dunking her head, and a
wave knocks me back towards the tub wall. I do a breaststroke to move back to
where I was, and watch as Mom rises back out of the water, slicking her long
black hair back from her face. Water streams down her cheeks. She wipes her
eyes and flicks giant droplets of water across the tub. A foot rises out of
the water to my right and rests against the cool metal of the faucet.  
  
Gamely, I start to swim my way across the pool of clear, warm water towards
Mom. She waits serenely, watching me as I glide across the water's surface in
a classic breaststroke. As I pass her raised knees, I dive under the water and
continue towards her. The water is clear, the walls of the tub a pure glowing
white, and my view is unobstructed. If anything, the water seems to magnify
things, making Mom's epic proportions seem even larger than they are
currently. Her cute pink vagina, decorated by the neatly trimmed tuft of hair
just above, looms before me. I'd need scuba gear to do much more than admire
it, so that's all I do, enjoying the view until my tiny lungs remind me that I
need air.  
  
I surface, gasping, and tread water. I can see Mom's long left arm has snaked
out, and her hand rests on the knee that breaks the surface. Her right arm
lies below the water, and I watch as it glides across her submerged belly and
her fingertips lightly graze her pussy lips. Mom's breasts jiggle a bit,
setting off ripples in the water that are strong enough to make me bob. The
phantom sensations stroke my cock as Mom abuses herself. It feels extra weird
with the water flowing around me, and the necessary action to keep myself from
sinking.  
  
I paddle towards Mom's left boob as her fingers go to work. She watches me
through those half-lidded eyes, a sensual smirk turning up her full lips.  
  
Clumsily, I clamber aboard Mom's tit. My weight is enough to make it start
sinking, but Mom's free hand is quickly there to cup and hold her breast in
place. I stand up awkwardly. "I claim this land for Spain!" I declare loudly.
Mom starts laughing, which topples me from my perch, and I land back in the
water with a loud splash.  
  
Mom scoops me up and sets me back down on her breast, where I sprawl
momentarily. I relish the feel of my rampant cock spearing into her soft,
smooth skin, as her phantom ministrations insistently tug on me.  
  
"Is that all you can think of to do?" Mom asks.  
  
I shake my head. I get up onto my knees at the edge of her areola. With both
hands I reach out for her engorged nipple. Too big for me to get my mouth
around at this size, but I can knead and tug and pull, which I proceed to do.
Mom hisses as I go to work. Her free hand leaves her pussy and flies out of
the water, sending warm spray across my back. Her fingers find and tweak her
right nipple, duplicating my efforts on the other breast. I feel sweat break
out on my forehead. I'm just trying to pinch and pull as hard as I can, and it
appears to be just hard enough.  
  
Water sloshes around the tub as Mom's hips jab. Her free hand goes away again,
returning to her pussy. I risk a glance over the side of her breast, and see
fingers disappearing into her gash. My cock shivers in response. I release the
nipple and lean backward, shifting my grip to my cock. With a few of my own
strokes added to Mom's, I am on the verge in a moments. Awkwardly, I make it
to my feet and point the head of my cock at Mom's nipple as I unload. My cum
is thick and creamy, and jets out of my cock in long, sinuous ribbons that
paint her pink nipple and areola white. Splat splat splat, the sound bounces
off the water and the walls of the tub, echoing around us as my balls dump
their endless stream of sperm once more. I'm groaning, and Mom is moaning,
shaking and shivering beneath me. She holds me steady as we climax, her hand
shifted from her rolling tit to cradle my back.  
  
At last I am momentarily empty. I wipe the head of my dripping cock on Mom's
nipple and then slide back into the water, paddling quickly over to her other
breast. Clambering aboard, I repeat myself, first teasing her nipple, then
kneeling and jacking off, depositing another prodigious load, painting her
flesh with my seed. Mom is moaning almost continually now, a low trill that
makes my breastbone rumble.  
  
She picks me up and drops me into the water between her floating breasts.
Fingers of both hands begin to tease her nipples, spreading the pools of cum
decorating them. She brings her fingertips, coated with jizz, up to her lips
and sucks them clean. She repeats the action, again and again, rapidly and
completely removing the sweet-smelling, viscous cum from her skin. She
finishes off by cupping her tits in both hands, squeezing them together, and
then bringing her nipples up to her lips directly, where she licks and sucks
the evidence of my spend from them.  
  
That's pretty damn hot.  
  
I paddle toward her face, and she obliges with a smile, scooping me up in both
hands, letting her tits drop and splash the water. She rises slightly out of
the water and brings me directly to her lips, letting me slide between their
plushness, lustily thrusting my engorged cock into her mouth over and over
again until I inevitably exploded directly into her mouth.  
  
"Mmmm," Mom moans, swallowing noisily. She sets me down, lets me tread water,
and languorously reaches for the soap. She begins to clean up. Mom lathers up
her loufa which she then uses to scrub every available inch of her body,
rising up out of the water occasionally to do so. Sheets of water wash off her
body, slamming into the pool below, sending me rocking back and forth. I dive
underwater a few times to avoid it, swimming around a bit to get clear. She
watches me out of the corner of her eyes, but otherwise pretends to be alone.
Hands and cloth caress her every expansive inch, scrubbing them clean. The
water gets soapy around me, the scent of apples and vanilla filling the air.  
  
She pays particular attention to her breasts, coating them in a soapy lather
with the cloth before going back with bare hands to knead and caress and tug
and rub, pushing soap around. She dips almost her entire body underwater to
wash away the soap, then rises again almost as quickly. Waves throw me around
the tub, and I almost bounce off the wall, before a few powerful kicks carry
me away.  
  
Mom lathers her smooth belly next. The loufa soaps up her pubic hair, but she
doesn't dip any lower yet. Instead she moves on to her thighs. She turns,
exposing that delectable backside, washing assiduously, then continues down
the back of her legs. She bends, her beautiful ass parting slightly, showing
me a glimpse of her puckered asshole. She turns, water swirling around her
calves, to show her huge breasts hanging low, swinging over the water.  
  
Mom tosses the washcloth to the side, and begins to scoop up water and pour it
down her belly and legs, sweeping the soap away. I continue to tread water,
admiring her lush curves and the patterns in the soap as the water courses
over her body, rinsing her clean. Mom scoops up water again, heavy tits
swaying enticingly, and pours water down over her pubis. Her hand glides
downward as well, combing through her pubic hair, fingers slipping between her
lips. As I tread water, I feel the tugging begin on my rod, looking up and up
and up, craning my neck to watch her. Mom teases her folds, fingers
fluttering, dipping, caressing, manipulating. Her fingers glisten with her own
juices. With her free hand, she cups a breast, using thumb and forefinger to
tease her hardened nipple.  
  
I am the world's smallest voyeur, watching a beautiful older woman pleasure
herself. I want to grab myself and enjoy it, but the water is too deep and I
have to use my arms to keep myself aloft.  
  
But the hex takes care of me. Between my legs, my dick bobs in the water,
throbbing and shivering as if phantom fingers are running up and down its
length. My breathing is getting heavier, and I note that Mom's is as well. She
pants as she continues to play with herself. I see her fingers diving deeper
and deeper, as she thrusts harder, flicking her clit with a practiced movement
of her thumb. Mom raises her breast once more to her lips, and begins to lick
and kiss and suck her own nipple. I see her bite down softly, moaning as she
does. Mom's hips gyrate, shimmy, and shake. She sways in the tub, the water
swirling around her knees, sending ripples of waves that make me rise and fall
like a buoy.  
  
Suddenly Mom releases her breast, and it falls away from her mouth, bouncing
and jiggling as it settles on her chest, and she cries out, short sharp
staccato cries as her climax overtakes her. Still treading water, I feel my
cock shudder, sending pearly jet after pearly jet into the water. The force of
it pushes me back in the water, as if propelled by a motor. A milky cloud
spreads before me as I move backwards, gasping and shaking and trying to catch
my breath.  
  
The water surges around me as Mom bends down and gathers me up. "Enjoy the
show?" she asks needlessly. I nod, breathless. Mom gives me a kiss.  
  
Mom sits back down in the water. It laps against her immensity, sloshing
around the tub. She sets me down in her cleavage. I roll around a bit,
enjoying the touch and taste of her, in particular how her tits loom over me
when I lay down. I watch as Mom picks up the soap once more and lathers her
hands. When her hands are coated in suds, she sets the bar down and grabs me
with both of them.  
  
Mom's strong hands stroke and caress my entire body, roaming across my arms
and legs and torso, rubbing in soap and massaging my tired muscles. Her
fingers press into my biceps and trace my pectorals. The pads of her fingers
glance across my abdominal muscles, and rub into my thighs and calves. I am
quickly covered in suds and spluttering a bit.  
  
My cock throbs as Mom sweeps her thumb and forefinger along its length,
washing me while also jacking me off. Her middle finger nudges my balls
gently, soaping them up, while also stimulating them with a little bounce.  
  
Mom dips me in the tub water, which is beginning to get cool, while still
slowly jacking my cock. "Deep breath, honey," she says, and without waiting to
see if I comply, she dunks me completely under the water. I come up coughing
and spitting soapy water, but still hard as a diamond, as Mom hasn't stopped
manipulating me.  
  
Mom raises me up, holding me up a few inches from her heaving chest, still
slowly tugging me. I hear water swirling around as her hips make circles in
the water. I stare hungrily at her enormous breasts and the pale expanse of
cleavage between them. Breath hitching, I thrust my thick cock between her
digits, and begin to spray. Mom giggles throatily, enjoying her own small
climax as I cum again. She aims my erupting cock like a hose, directing my
spray to coat her cleavage in thick pools of creamy cum that drip down her
belly. She pushes her arms together, thrusting her tits into prominence, and
coating their inner slopes with jism.  
  
Mom gives me an evil grin. Her gray eyes gleam with mischief.  
  
Still holding me securely, she sweeps me down and pulls me through her
cleavage, dragging my legs through the viscous pools of my cream, coating me
from thigh to ankle. My dick bounces off her right tit, leaving a thin trail
of cum across it, the last dregs of my spend.  
  
Mom throws her head back and opens her mouth wide. Holding me securely by the
waist, she slowly lowers me towards her open mouth. I panic a little, kicking
my legs and pushing my arms against her fingers. All I do is send droplets of
cum arcing through the air to adorn her cheeks and lips. She expertly traps my
flailing feet between those lips and slides me into her mouth up to my waist.
I feel tremendous suction as she slurps the cum off my body. Her tongue slides
up and down my backside.  

Mom thrusts me in and out of her mouth a few times, using my whole body to
fuck her mouth. She rotates me, so that my ass is pressed against the roof of
her mouth, and my cockhead is wedged between her gums and her lower lip. My
feet are wedged into the back of her throat, knees flexed and legs spread
against her cheeks, while warm breath blows across my back as she fights for
air.  
  
She starts to hum, short sharp vibrations that shake my body and thrust my
cockhead against her lower lip. I try not to think about her teeth, and slowly
it dawns on me that she is chanting, not humming, and that the word she is
chanting is "Cum."  
  
I look out, admiring the rise and fall of Mom's huge breasts in the water, and
the length of her arm as it descends down to her crotch, where her hand is
busy beneath the water's surface. Suddenly I am cumming again, spraying
another epic load directly into Mom's mouth. She slurps it up greedily. I can
feel and hear her throat muscles working. The volume and force of my
ejaculation squeezes some through the seal around my abdomen, pouring across
Mom's lips and running down my chest.  
  
With a sucking sound she releases me. Mom takes several deep, shuddering
breaths. She holds me gently and examines me as she licks her lips. "You
okay?" she asks.  
  
"A little startled, but whole. That was fucking crazy, though. For a second I
thought you were going to..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Um... Nevermind," I say. I suppress a shudder just thinking about it. "Just
don't do that again without warning me first."  
  
Mom pouts. "I thought you liked mouth play."  
  
"I do, I just... you could have swallowed me."  
  
Mom's eyes bug out. It's clear the idea never even occurred to her. "No! No no
no. No. Just, no. Never. Honey, that would never happen. I just wanted some of
that creamy cum of yours, and I know you like it when I lick you... I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
"It's okay," I assure her. "Obviously I enjoyed it enough to get off."  
  
Mom smiles, but she looks a little uncertain. She washes me off with some
soapy water, handling me carefully. Then she does the same with the residue of
my orgasm on her chest.  
  
Mom holds me against her breasts and pulls the drain. Water swirls as the tub
empties, and Mom steps out, glistening wet all over, clean and sexy. Her long
wet hair clings to her neck and shoulders. "I really am sorry, Robbie."  
  
I assure her I am fine once more, patting her heavy tit with my tiny hand. Mom
smiles reassuringly, relaxing a little bit.  
  
I shiver, suddenly cold. Mom wraps me up in a hand towel, drying me quickly
but gently. She takes particular care with my sensitive member. When I am dry,
she steps back, grabs a normal towel, and dries herself. I let myself watch,
entranced, as she rubs herself down, eventually emerging with her skin rubbed
pink and dry. She drops the towel on the bathroom floor and stands before me,
nude and glorious.  
  
Mom smirks. And stifles a yawn.  
  
I remember that I had a nap, but she didn't. It's getting late, and we have
been fucking for hours. She must be exhausted, even with the hex driving her
libido and mine. I realize that I am pretty tired as well. The warm bath
loosened my stiff muscles, but I still feel bruised and beat up, now that I've
had a chance to catch my breath.  
  
"Bedtime?" I suggest.  
  
"Is it that obvious?" Mom asks. She tries to stop the next yawn, but instead
her mouth opens wide, jaw cracking with the effort. She blinks fiercely. "I
guess I am tired."  
  
She steps toward the counter where I crouch on the damp hand towel. "But I
don't want to lose this... opportunity. I've had more fun with you in the past
few hours than I have in years."  
  
I feel my chest swell with a perverse pride. "It's been less than twenty-four
hours yet, and you said I'd probably be stuck like this for a few days, even a
week. Were you planning not to sleep during that time?"  
  
Mom laughs. "No, but... I'm worried that I'll go to bed and wake up and this
will be all over. Stupid, I know. And wrong." She sighs. "This is so wrong."  
  
"I think we're beyond wrong at this point, Mom."  
  
She pretends to think a moment, head cocked to the side. Her full lips split
into a huge grin. "That is so true. So very true. I guess we'll have time to
do more wrong things in the morning."  
  
Mom picks me up and, both of us naked, walks into her bedroom. She flicks the
bathroom light off almost absently behind her, which leaves me balanced
precariously on one hand.  
  
Mom looks at me uncertainly. "The safest place for you to sleep is probably
the cat carrier."  
  
"Really? The bed would be more comfortable."  
  
"I told you, I could roll over and crush you or smother you in your sleep, and
neither of us would notice until it was too late. Believe me, I love to
cuddle. Your Mom is definitely a cuddler, and you and I haven't cuddled in a
long, long time. But no, the carrier is best. I'll set it on the floor and
leave the door open. Good enough?"  
  
"I guess so." I'd rather sleep nestled against Mom's warm, supple, full
figured body, but you don't really argue with a fifty foot woman.  
  
So she sets the carrier down at the foot of the bed, changes out the towel,
and leaves me outside it. She bends down to give me a kiss on the top of my
head. "Good night, baby," she says. I wish her good night as well.  
  
I watch as her colossal nude form glides around the bed and slips under the
covers, disappearing from view. I contemplate my makeshift bed, stretch and
yawn myself, and finally give in to a bone weary exhaustion. Curled up in the
carrier, wrapped in a towel, I slip into unconsciousness.  
  
8.  
  
I am lying on a chaise lounge beside a pool. It is midafternoon, the warm sun
beating down on me, lathered in sunscreen, completely naked. I am normal
sized, back to being a little over six feet tall, but for some reason I retain
my oversized equipment. I am hard, my proud cock rising up perpendicularly
from between my legs, a fleshy tower with an angry purple head. Beads of
precum slide down my length.  
  
I look around. The pool is in the backyard of my mother's house, the house I
grew up in, but we've never owned a pool. The backyard is normally dominated
by my mother's herb garden. The strangest thing about this is that I don't
find this strange at all.  
  
There's a small table at my elbow, a cold beer forms perspiration on it. I
reach out, take a sip, and I see the back door of the house open. My mother
saunters out. She is dressed in a bright light blue bikini which exposes an
admirable amount of her pale flesh. She fairly glows in the sunlight, though
her eyes are hidden behind large black sunglasses. Her long black hair hangs
loose, framing her pretty face and draping across her shoulders. She moves
smoothly atop high heeled sandals that strap around her slim ankles. She
carries a wine cooler in one hand and a towel in the other. Mom approaches
with a sensual smirk on her full lips, and she puts a little exaggerated swing
into her hips as she draws close.  
  
"Hey baby," she says, throwing her towel on the chaise lounge beside me. She
takes a swig from her wine cooler and casually puts her long fingered hand on
the rampant head of my weeping cock. "You have such an awfully big dick,
baby," my mother says. Her forefinger toys with the slit, spreading precum
around the angry head. I can see myself reflected obscenely in her sunglasses
as she admires my length. The hand begins to lightly run up and down my dick,
fingertips grazing me. "It's much too big for me to play with like this. I'm
going to have to get bigger so it fits inside me."  
  
With that, she wiggles her nose, accompanied by a kind of chiming sound. And
Mom begins to grow. Her body expands before my very eyes, gaining inches in
seconds. The abbreviated bikini looks smaller and smaller as she grows, her
generous tits getting larger and larger with each breath. Her belly expands,
her thighs and arms and neck lengthen. The bikini straps cut into her skin,
straining to contain her burgeoning femininity. With a loud snap, her top goes
flying into the air, sailing over my head. Her huge breasts bob and jiggle,
hard nipples pointing straight at me. The bikini bottom is swallowed up by her
expanding pussy, neatly shaved and already dripping with moisture. Another
snapping sound accompanies the loss of her bikini bottom, which flutters to
the pool deck, all but forgotten. Mom's dainty, sexy feet with their blue
painted toenails expand out of the confines of her sandals and crush them
beneath her weight.  
  
Mom stretches like a cat, arms over the head, breasts thrown into prominence,
feet and calves arched, thighs flexed. She is now about twelve feet tall. She
growls lustily and steps over my chaise lounge. She positions herself so that
her vagina hovers over my rampant rod. Mom makes a V with her arms, hands
pointed downward over her crotch. Her tits bulge out over her arms, soft and
firm, pale and pink and bigger than my head.  
  
Slowly Mom lowers herself onto me. My glans nudges up against her labia. Her
lips part, and with a schlooping sound, I slide home inside her. Our combined
juices drip down my length as she swallows me inch by inch. Finally I bottom
out, Mom standing above me with legs spread wide. She braces her hands on the
back of the lounge, which serves to dangle her enormous udders in my face. I
reach up and grab a breast, finding a nipple to kiss and lick and suck as Mom
begins to slowly fuck me. Her hips raise and lower, sliding up and down my
raging pole.  
  
She cries out in pleasure and joy. I moan into her tit.  
  
There's no way the neighbors aren't aware of what is going on. We have a fence
around the property, but it's not so tall that it can hide a naked woman
standing a dozen feet high who is steadily, savagely fucking her son.  
  
I reach the precipice quickly, maybe too quickly, and deep inside Mom, my
cockhead rubbing against the roof of her womb, I fire rope after rope into
her. She shudders in response, pussy lips clamping tight around the base of my
cock as her juices inundate my balls. Mom's weight settles on me for a moment,
but she soon rises, dragging herself free of my dick with a slurp. Cum and
vaginal juices stream from her reddened pussy, leaking down her thick thighs.  
  
"Mmm, that was good," Mom says, "but I want to be bigger." The nose wiggles,
the chime sounds, and Mom expands upward and outward again, doubling in size
once more in the span of a few eyeblinks. I watch, rapt, from my position on
the lounge. My rod has not slackened. Instead I get harder, looking at her.  
  
Twenty-four feet tall. She poses sexily, hands on hips, huge tits jiggling.
She is as tall as the house, and only a little shorter than the elm trees at
the back of the yard. Her foot is almost as long as the chair on which I lie,
and I will only stand as high as her knee if I rise. I can hear exclamations
of surprise, horror, and intrigue from the neighbor's houses. My mother, the
giantess exhibitionist.  
  
Mom leans over and picks me up with both hands, cupping me under the armpits.
She brings me up to her breasts and cradles me between their lush, firm
softness, before carrying me to her lips. She swallows my cock whole, licking
and sucking, moaning and bobbing and twisting her mouth. Her mouth is as moist
and warm as her pussy, but feels different, her agile tongue adding another
layer of sensation. It doesn't take long for her to coax out another explosion
from me. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of the cum traveling up my
shaft and spurting into Mom's mouth, straight down her throat.  
  
Mom swallows greedily. "Mmm," she says. "Just a little bigger, I think." The
nose wiggles, the chimes sound, and Mom grows again. Its weirder watching from
my current perspective. The sky fills with her. Her hands expand around my
body as she holds me. Her grip changes, as I settle into her cupped palm, legs
dangling, arms braced against her fingers.  
  
Mom stops at a height of forty-eight feet, nude and glorious. Her skin shines
in the sun. The sky is an impossible blue, and her beauty is framed by big
fluffy white clouds. Mom dwarfs the house and the trees, towering over the
neighborhood, which has come out to stare and point and admire. The swimming
pool is a foot bath.  
  
Mom shifts her grip again, putting two fingers and a thumb around my rampant
rod. She manipulates me slowly, gently, smiling and cooing as she jacks me
off. For her, no one else seems to matter. That she is in full view of the
entire neighborhood doesn't seem to bother her. Nor me, apparently, as I am
cumming again in minutes. She aims my cock at her right breast, and blast
after blast of cream decorates her pale skin and pink nipple. When I am done
and lie gasping for breath in one palm, Mom lifts her tit to her lips and laps
up the evidence of my orgasm, noisily and happily.  
  
There are shouts of disgust, surprise, and wonder from below. Mom doesn't seem
to care. I risk a glance beneath us, and fight the sense of vertigo. Some
couples are making out, getting busy, starting an orgy that threatens to
engulf the entire neighborhood. Others are pointing and staring or calling the
cops.  
  
"Mmmm," Mom says. She takes a deep breath, looks around. Her eyes widen, as if
she's just realized how big she is, how everyone can see. But instead of being
embarrassed, she appears to enjoy it. A slow, sexy smile blossoms on her face.
She looks at me. "Bigger?"  
  
I swallow nervously, but nod.  
  
Mom laughs, sexily, throatily, with abandon. Her nose wiggles, the chime
sounds, and she grows again. The ground recedes rapidly. Her palm expands
around me. I find myself lying prostrate in her palm, completely surrounded by
her hand. She tops out around ninety-six feet tall. No surprise, as she's
doubling herself with each spell.  
  
I roll around on her palm, using her thumb as a handhold, and look down. Her
tits are gigantic. They are wider than I am tall, and half again as long. Full
and round and gravity defying, rising and lowering with each breath, bobbing
and jiggling enticingly.  
  
Mom laughs. The sound hurts my ears, and I almost tumble from her palm as I
instinctively cover them with my hands. But she's there to catch me, one hand
under the other. The movement causes Mom to step backward, and one foot
stumbles into the pool. Water surges up onto the deck. Mom loses her balance,
catches it, then falls backward. The world spins as she throws her arms out,
me still trapped in the cage formed by fingers and palm, bouncing around. I
hear a tremendous crashing sound and everything shakes.  
  
When Mom opens her hand, she looks worried. "You okay?" she says, her voice a
deep, sexy rumble. I nod. I'm not sure she could hear me anyway; I'm only
about four inches tall to her. Mom breathes a sigh of relief, but blushes. "I
sat on the house."  
  
She holds me out so I can look over the edge of her palm. Our home is
destroyed, flattened by Mom's gigantic ass. The trees in the front yard are
knocked over, into the street, and power lines are down as well. Mom slowly
gets back on her feet, rubbing her bare butt as she does. Everything we own
rains down forty feet to the ground.  
  
Mom shrugs, nonchalant. "Couldn't be helped, I guess." I look around, and see
that the crowd that was forming to watch us has begun to disperse. People are
rushing from the neighborhood, finally aware of the peril they are in. Once
again, Mom doesn't seem to notice. She only has eyes for me.  
  
"Oh, but my little cum monkey is too small to be of any use. I better fix
that." With a devilish smile, she wiggles her nose again. The chimes sound,
and I am at first disappointed – and a little relieved - to see her begin to
shrink. But as I look over the edge of her palm, I see everything else
shrinking too. Which means I am growing. I spring up to a height of twelve
feet, still tiny compared to Mom, but more manageable for her, I suppose. My
dick continues to grow, expanding out to a length of three feet, thick as a
beer keg. The weight pulls at me.  
  
I should protest, but I can't be bothered. I am perversely enjoying this.  
  
Mom steps over the ruin of our home and lies down in the middle of the street.
Cars honk and swerve out of the way. People flee across lawns. Mom carries me
leisurely across her body, letting me enjoy the view, before pausing above her
weeping pussy. She positions me at the entrance, feet first, and I slide in
without complaint, using both hands to wedge my cock into place. She fucks
herself with my whole body, using me roughly, slamming me into her over and
over again. I bang my hands against her clit, urging her to climax, and at
last she cuts loose with an ululating cry that shatters windows along the
block and sets off car alarms. I empty myself into Mom with a dozen pulses,
and she drags me dripping from her snatch. She licks me clean and climbs to
her feet.  
  
Her eyes find mine and I look up into them, feeling my lust and admiration
mirrored there. I don't even have to say the word, she just smiles and nods
and wiggles her nose. The chimes echo down the block, and she grows again.  
  
She doubles once more, crying out with the joy of it as she reaches a height
of one hundred and ninety two feet. Each of her breasts is nineteen feet wide.
Her areolas are enormous, with hard pink nipples right in their center. Her
hips are forty two feet wide. I look down, and she casually crushes the house
across the street from us. She doesn't even notice as her foot shifts and
caves in a wall. The wreckage of the house flows over her foot and tumbles
into the street.  
  
Another nose wiggle makes me grow as well, still tiny compared to her, but a
giant to a normal person. She is making my cock extra large with each shift as
well, comically large. It's almost as long as I am tall now, and I have to sit
bow-legged in her palm because my balls are so big.  
  
The part of my brain that should be paralyzed with terror, or dumbstruck with
horror at Mom's destructive potential, is instead consumed with lust. It is
almost as if the bigger she gets, the more beautiful and wanton she gets and
the more aroused I am.  
  
Mom smiles down at me sitting in her palm. "What do you say, baby? Let's go to
the mall. I haven't got a thing to wear." Without waiting for a response for
me, which wouldn't matter anyway, Mom sets off. She sticks to the streets,
using them as walkways through the neighborhood. Her feet leave massive
craters in the pavement. The earth buckles behind her. Water mains and gas
mains burst, houses are shaken off their foundations. People have fled the
neighborhood, as our lovemaking gave them enough time to get out of the
general area. This is a good thing, as Mom has become a living hurricane or
tornado. Without any effort on her part, Mom has already destroyed our block.
My cock inexplicably gets stiffer as I contemplate her walk to the mall.  
  
Mom whistles a jaunty tune as she saunters across the landscape, demolishing
everything in her path. Occasionally she lifts me up to her mouth to give my
rampant rod a slurp, licking up the river of precum that oozes from me
continually.  
  
In no time at all, we reach our destination, a multi-story shopping mall
encircled by huge stretches of asphalt and hundreds upon hundreds of tiny
cars. Mom steps over the clusters of cars, keeping to the lanes between them.
But the parking lot sags beneath her weight, and gravity forces cars to slide
into the pits made by her stride. Masses of tiny, two inch tall people stream
from the mall and scurry across the asphalt carpet of the parking lots. Mom
watches them go, smirking. She brings me up to her lips again, sucking on my
cock like a straw while people flee. In no time at all, I am pumping a truly
enormous amount of jism into Mom's mouth. The volume overwhelms her mouth,
forcing her to swallow quickly. Even so, some leaks out to drip down her lips
and chin. She releases me to swipe her titanic tongue across her lips, and the
last few dregs of my climax squirt ineffectually onto Mom's throat.  

This is the signal for Mom to wiggle her nose again, and she does not
disappoint. The chimes sound, Mom swells, doubling in size once more to a
height of three hundred and eighty-four feet.  
  
The ground beneath us groans and creaks. The parking lot crumbles under her
weight, and she sinks up to her heels to the bedrock underneath. Cars are
thrown backward and explode as her feet grow into them. Her palm encircles me.
I'm tiny compared to her again, much smaller in proportion than I ever have
been. Even at my relatively gigantic size, I'm only a few inches tall to her.
My cock empties out a second time, untouched, my libido overwhelmed by her
sheer feminine enormity.  
  
Mom feels my inundation on her skin. One titanic hand grabs me gently and
lifts me out of her palm, while she brings the other hand to her mouth and
swipes my spend away with one lash of her huge pink tongue.  
  
Mom sets me down on the roof of the mall, which doesn't even come up to her
knees. This is getting out of control, but I'm so aroused I hardly care.  
  
At the edge of the parking lot, a city bus attempts to get away, back out onto
the street. Mom leans over casually and snaps it up in one hand. It's a big
bus, fifty feet long at least, and it looks like a hefty metal cylinder in her
hands. Mom brings it back to the mall and sets the bus down on the ground. She
gently taps the roof. "Everybody out," she whispers, and the sound echoes
across the mall, across the town.  
  
People who are inch tall compared to the titaness scurry from the vehicle and
hurry across the parking lot. Mom watches them go, idly running her fingers
through her wet, dripping pussy, almost two hundred feet in the air.  
  
For some reason the crowd of commuters stops about a football field's length
from Mom, and they all turn to watch as she lifts the bus into the air once
more and brings it to her crotch. The blunt face of the bus nudges against
Mom's lips, and she roughly shoves the bus into her pussy. She cries out.
People are knocked down. Glass shatters and tinkles. Car alarms that haven't
already been triggered suddenly go off.  
  
Even I am knocked on my ass by her roar, landing roughly on the tarred roof of
the mall. I stand up again, planting my feet on the edge of the roof and watch
Mom pummel her pussy with her bus-dildo. She looks down at me, panting and
sweating, and I start to jerk off.  
  
The crowd watching Mom turns its attention to me. Above the sound of Mom's
cries, above the screech of crushing metal, across the distance, I hear them
begin to laugh. They point at me. Their tiny voices call me "freak," "psycho,"
"pervert." The people start getting bigger, as if they are growing, or getting
closer. I start to recognize faces in the crowd, people from high school,
friends of my parents, old teachers.  
  
Mom pulls the bus out of her. Its front end is mangled and crushed by the
forces of her immense vagina. Fluid drips from it. Mom tosses the bus casually
over her shoulder, sending it flying into town. Where it lands, no one can
say.  
  
"Stop laughing at my son," Mom says, which only makes the crowd laugh harder
and taunt me more fiercely. "Motherfucker" is added to the rotation. Mom lifts
a foot and brings it down towards the crowd, her face contorted in rage.  
  
But these are human beings. People – people we both know. "Mom! No!" I shout
at the top of my lungs, but she either can't or won't hear me. "NOOOO!"  
  
I snap awake, coated in icy sweat, the towel wrapped around me sticky with
cum.  
  
Jesus Christ. That was the most realistic dream I have ever had. A nightmare,
really. I shiver, cold and uncertain. It takes me a few shuddering breaths to
accept the reality of lying naked in the cat carrier at the foot of Mom's bed.
It all felt so real, and so good. But oh so very wrong.  
  
Above me the bed creaks as Mom shifts in bed. "Robbie?" she says. "Are you
awake?"  
  
I try to croak out a response, but my throat is too dry, my voice to tiny for
her to hear. The bed shifts again and then the floor shivers as Mom comes
around the bed, still naked, still beautiful, but part of my brain is still
engaged in the dream and I am frightened of her.  
  
Mom kneels down beside the carrier and peers inside. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, just a bad dream," I manage to say. Mom reaches in and extricates me
from the soiled towel.  
  
"Doesn't look like a bad dream," she says wryly.  
  
"No, it definitely was."  
  
Mom's expression softens. "I'm sorry. I just had a bad dream myself." She
pauses. "Want to cuddle a little?"  
  
I surprise myself by enthusiastically nodding my head. I can't get the image
of Mom about to crush all those people out of my head. I feel a little ill,
but when she cradles me against her bosom and I feel her warmth and hear her
heartbeat, I start to relax.  
  
Mom climbs into bed, under the covers, still holding me close. "Do you want to
talk about it?" she asks quietly. I think about it a moment, then quickly
sketch the salient points of the dream. Mom's eyes get bigger and bigger as I
talk, until I get to the end, and she turns a little green.  
  
"You're not going to believe this, but I had the same dream, but from the
other end. Growing bigger and bigger, destroying the neighborhood, going to
the mall... the whole nine yards. I woke up just before I would have killed
those people, too."  
  
"What the – how is that possible?"  
  
"The hex between us is stronger than I thought if we're sharing dreams. I
don't even know whose dream it was to start, but it was probably fueled on
both our parts by that little incident at the end of the bath. Made both of us
anxious.  
  
"Let me try to set you a little bit more at ease. I'm not Samantha from
'Bewitched.' Magic doesn't work that way. It's hard, it's time consuming, and
the spells I cast have to be expressed through a recipe of some kind. Potion,
baked good, pastry, whatever. It isn't an instantaneous thing, and it doesn't
generally last very long.  
  
"Second, even magic has to adhere to certain physical realities. I've never
tried to make someone grow, but I'm pretty sure even if I did, the largest I
could get a human being is twelve or fifteen feet or so. Theoretically, you
could do sixty feet tops, but the amount of prep time and expenditure of
energy required to channel that much energy into mass would take years. Four
hundred feet is right out. Plus, I'm no exhibitionist at heart, and the
thought of being out in front of all those people, friends and neighbors...
ugh, I don't even want to think about it.  
  
"And lastly, but most importantly, the tradition I belong to has a philosophy.
'Do what thou wilt, an it harm none.' Basically, it's a variation of the
Golden Rule. And I try my best to live by it. I would never willingly use
magic or anything else to deliberately hurt another living being."  
  
"Okay," I say, feeling a little better. It was all so vivid, though, I'm still
a little unsettled.  
  
"Look, why don't I bring the carrier up here to the bed, and then we can sleep
a little closer together. You need a new towel, though." She crinkles her face
in mock disgust, eliciting a smile from me. In no time at all, Mom has me set
up on the bed, a fresh towel to lie on, the door open and facing the foot of
the bed, her massive but reassuring form visible through the breathing holes.
Mom watches me for a little while, but soon drifts off to sleep. Her little
snores are kind of cute, and eventually I fall asleep myself.  
  
9.  
  
Consciousness returns slowly. Warm sunlight streams through the windows,
illuminating Mom's bedroom, creating a rectangular pattern on the bed that
extends across the carrier and falls across my face. I'm still small, still
hard, and surprised at how relaxed I am by that fact. I climb out from under
the towel and look for Mom.  
  
Her side of the bed is empty, the comforter creating a mountain of fabric
where she left it bunched up. The bathroom door is open, the room devoid of
occupation. I don't hear her in the hall, and guess she's nowhere nearby.  
  
The smell of something baking wafts into the room. My stomach rumbles. I
haven't eaten or drunk much since shrinking. I don't know why that is, but it
appears I'm ready to eat something now. For a while, I wait to see if Mom will
come looking for me, but she can't possibly know when I'm awake. Even if I
jerk off, she might assume it's just a wet dream. I decide to go looking for
her, and figure that she's probably in the kitchen.  
  
I jump down from the edge of the bed, bouncing on the carpet, and leap across
the room, down the hall, to the stairs. I navigate my way down the stairs,
around the corner, and into the kitchen. The radio is on, playing Adele, and
Mom is humming and half-singing to herself as she bops around the island and
stove. I see mixing bowls and packages of flour and sugar and other things
spread around the top of the island and counters, and Mom has a spoon in one
hand doubling as a microphone.  
  
Her hair is pinned up to keep it out of her eyes, but still fluffed out with
plenty of body. There's just a little bit of makeup on her face, some color to
accent her eyes and lips. Other than that, the only thing she is wearing is a
light purple apron. While it covers her front, it offers no support for her
pendulous breasts, which bounce around on her chest with each movement. And
the apron leaves her long, smooth back and large springy backside completely
open.  
  
I watch for a few minutes, enjoying my mother's singing voice, and admiring
the way her enormous, sexy body moves and sways. The flex of her ass, the
tightness of her calves, the fullness of her thighs. The swanlike expanse of
her neck, her long toned arms, the way her huge tits thrust out the front of
the apron, swinging rhythmically with each step.  
  
She hasn't seen me, and with the music turned up and her own singing, she
wouldn't hear me if I shouted at her. I suppose it's time to show off. I make
a few short hops that take me into the kitchen and halfway across the room,
and a big jump that brings me up to the top of the kitchen island. I slip a
bit on the slick surface and bend down on one knee, holding my arms out to
keep from sprawling. Mom's back is to me, facing the stove. I straighten and
walk across the island to the mixing bowl. The edge of it is about as high as
my chest, allowing me to reach over and swipe a few fingers through the
batter. Chocolate. It's good, although a bit runny.  
  
At this point Mom slowly turns, perhaps sensing something behind her, and her
eyes go wide when she sees me. She jumps back a step, spooned hand coming up
to her chest, and releases a short sharp shout.  
  
I wave nonchalantly.  
  
Mom is pale and shaking a little. She raises the spoon up as if to swipe at
me, but drops it to her side instead. "Don't DO that!" she yells at me. "You
scared me to death."  
  
"Sorry," I say, not really sorry. I smile.  
  
Slowly, Mom smiles too. She shakes her head. "How did you get up here?" she
asks, tapping the spoon against the counter. I feel the vibrations through the
soles of my bare feet.  
  
"I jumped," I say. "One of those benefits of being this size, I guess." To
demonstrate, I spring across the gap separating the island from the counter.
It's about three feet, and I make it easily.  
  
Mom gasps in admiration. "I had no idea. When did you discover you could do
that?"  
  
I explain about climbing off the couch the day before, but omit going up to
her bedroom and masturbating into her bra cup. Mom shakes her head. "And still
you let me carry you around?"  
  
"Well, I like when you carry me," I say, looking down and kicking one foot. I
look up as Mom steps close and leans over, flashing an acre of cleavage.  
  
"I can't imagine why," she says with a sultry laugh. She straightens, semi-
serious again. "I'm glad you came downstairs. I was going to come up and get
you shortly." She reaches past me and turns the stereo down. "What do you want
for breakfast?"  
  
"I thought you were baking something already?"  
  
Mom's cheeks darken, just a bit. "Oh, that's a little treat for me. I do need
your help to finish it, but it won't be breakfast."  
  
"My help?"  
  
Mom titters a bit. "Oh, be patient. Scrambled eggs and sausage, how does that
sound?"  
  
Mom starts cleaning up the kitchen, gets out a pan and eggs and whisk and
bowl. Chops up some peppers and onions, mixes them into the eggs in the bowl,
whisks, pours the mix into the pan and starts to cook the eggs. Frozen sausage
links go into the microwave, come out steaming and hot.  
  
Mom sets out plates and utensils on the table. She directs me over there. I
give her a rueful look, already regretting showing off, and bound down to the
floor to bounce back up on the table top. Mom sets out breakfast, and as she
does, the timer goes off. She scurries to the stove and pulls out a pan of
muffins or cupcakes or something, setting them on a rack on the island to
cool. They smell delicious.  
  
Mom cuts up my sausage. The knife and fork make me feel queasy as it easily
divides up the meat, but once again Mom is seemingly oblivious. I spear a bit
of sausage with a toothpick and eat hungrily. Mom eats lustily, putting away
quite a bit of food. While we eat, we make small talk. Apparently the weather
is going to be warm and sunny all weekend, not that I'll be able to enjoy it.  
  
As breakfast winds down, I ask again, "So what did you need my help with?"  
  
Mom dabs at her lips with a napkin. She smiles, reaching across the table to
scoop me up and hold me against her cloth covered breasts as she steps away
from the table. "Well," she says coyly, "you know I like to bake. You know I
like my sweets. And now you know about some of my other tastes, too. So I woke
up this morning with a... craving. I made some chocolate cupcakes, but I need
your help with the frosting."  
  
I think I see where this is going. But I play along. "Frosting?"  
  
Mom's smile widens, eyes bright, cheeks already flushed. She sets me down on
the island. Mom picks up a warm cupcake from the rack and sets it down in
front of me. It's the size of an ottoman, with a pink wrapper around the stem.
Mom puts a finger along the length of my cock and nudges it, so that it points
directly at the cupcake. "You know... frosting," she says. Her thumb joins her
finger, encircling my cock. She begins to gently manipulate me.  
  
I look up and up, enjoying the way her breasts shift under the apron, and into
her eyes. She is smiling, happy, aroused. I put my hands behind my back and
enjoy the sensation of Mom's fingers on my length, carefully tugging on me,
urging me to cum. Her free hand cups a breast through the apron, squeezing and
pulling on her teat. The fabric is gradually pushed inward, revealing the pale
skin of her breast, and the huge, hard pink nipple in the middle. Mom's other
thumb and forefinger find it and begin to twist and tug her nipple. The bottom
of the apron rustles as Mom rubs her thighs together.  
  
This is so kinky and weird and silly, and Mom's ministrations are quite
insistent. I thrust forward between her fingers, fucking my cock between them,
my own precum generating plenty of lubricant. My ass clenches, my balls
squeeze, and a torrent of cum erupts from the end of my dick. The first one
overshoots the mark, spraying across the top of the cupcake to leave a ribbon
on the island. But Mom is focused, and uses both hands to hold my body and aim
my ejaculating cock, so that my thick, creamy load primarily sprays across the
top of the cupcake. Some of it soaks directly into the cake, but most of it
lies obscenely on the cupcake top. Finally I am spent, and Mom sets me down on
my feet. I stagger a bit, coming down off my orgasm, breathing hard.  
  
Mom deftly removes the pink wrapper. Cum oozes off the cupcake, too slick and
gelid to stay there properly, and some of it drips onto Mom's fingers as she
carries the cake to her mouth. She devours it in three bites, licking her
lips, trying to catch as much of my cum as possible in her mouth. She licks
bits of cake and cum from her fingers, moaning. "That was just as good as I
hoped it would be."  
  
"You are one crazy lady, Mom." She turns red, from forehead to toes, in the
blink of an eye. "How many more cupcakes do you have?" I say quickly, and she
relaxes somewhat.  
  
"Eleven," she says shyly. "Not that I could eat eleven cupcakes right now..."  
  
I remember her saying that she orgasms when I orgasm, but that for her they're
little. And that they build if mine come in rapid succession. "How many could
you eat right now?" I ask. I give my hips a wiggle, which sends my cock
bobbing.  
  
"Let's see," she says with a wicked smile.  
  
Mom takes three more cupcakes off the rack and lays them down in front of me.
She stands back from the island, reaches behind her back and unties the apron.
She lifts it up over her head and tosses it to the side. Her huge, beautiful
breasts bob playfully, and I get a glimpse of her neatly trimmed pussy hair
before she steps forward again.  
  
Mom's finger and thumb find me and start jacking me off. Her other hand roams
across her mountainous breasts, down her smooth belly, beneath the edge of the
island. Phantom fingers caress my cock, almost counterpoint to the real
fingers gently masturbating me. Once again I am struck by the sheer perverse
strangeness of my situation, but it doesn't stop me from jettisoning a huge
load onto the first cupcake.  
  
Mom doesn't wait for me to recover. She is panting and moaning and wild eyed.
The fingers dipping into her pussy, playing with her pink folds, just make her
more eager. She points my cock at another cupcake and teases me. I'm grabbing
her fingers and thrusting between them, gliding my cock across her flesh,
trying to fuck her fingers. Her thumb nudges against my balls, careful not to
hit them too hard. She leans over, her tits swinging in my face, and I let
loose a third time, spraying down the top of another cupcake.  
  
Mom cries out. She is hunched over the island a bit, her huge tits lying on
the counter, their mammoth softness spread out, just behind the cupcakes. Jism
is sliding around the tops of the cakes, dripping down the sides, soaking into
the food. Mom shifts me again, moving me like an action figure, still gently
but urgently jacking me off.  
  
Her free hand comes up to the top of the island. Her fingers trace glistening
trails across her left tit. Mom's eyes are glassy, her skin flushed. She grabs
one of the cupcakes I've decorated and brings it to her mouth, slurping and
licking up the cum before it can slide off completely. She eats a few bites
before setting it down. Her eyes bore into me the entire time she is eating,
and before long my crisis is upon me. I slam my dick into her fingers, long
ropes of jizz spraying across her hand to splatter on the final cupcake. Fluid
ricochets off of fluid, some splattering Mom's breast and nipple.  
  
She brings the second cupcake to her mouth with a shaky hand and devours the
semen greedily. She releases my abused cock and goes back to teasing her
pussy, riding a cresting orgasm that, from the sounds she makes around the
cupcake, is going to be a big one. She lets the half eaten cake fall to the
island, nearly hitting me, and snaps up the third one. She doesn't bother with
the cake itself, simply slurping and sucking and licking of the frosting. Her
hand, out of view, is busy as her arm jerks back and forth.  
  
Mom roars, throwing her head back, lips smeared with cum and chocolate. Her
tits bobble and shake, and she lets the last cupcake fall to the floor as her
entire body shudders. The whole experience makes me cum again, emptying my
seed on the countertop, and this just seems to extend Mom's thunderous climax.
She finally falls back, settling against the counter top, breathing heavily.
She licks her fingers, on both hands, and doesn't miss the few drops of cum I
left on her tit.  
  
The muscles in Mom's legs and abdomen shiver and shake with aftershocks as she
catches her breath. She notices the pool of cum spreading across the island at
my feet and lurches forward on weak legs. She leans down over the counter,
bringing her face close to me, and her long pink tongue extends out to lick up
the pool of cum.  

It doesn't end. It can't end. Synapses are firing in my brain, clouding my
mind, making me crazy and hornier and hornier.  
  
With my cock gripped in both hands I step to Mom's face and aim it towards her
chocolate and cum smeared mouth. With a wanton smile she welcomes me, slurping
my dick into her mouth like a straw. I grab her cheeks with both hands and
slam into her mouth, over and over again, as savagely and ruthlessly as I can.
Her breath washes over me from flared nostrils, and phantom caresses assure me
Mom is playing with herself as I drive towards another orgasm. It comes,
quicker than I'd hoped, and I cry out unconsciously, calling her name as I
empty myself into her hot, wet, pink mouth.  
  
Mom swallows greedily, hungrily, lapping at my spewing dick with the tip of
her tongue, urging me on, ever onward. She keens around the cock trapped
between her full lips, a sound like an alarm or a ship's whistle that rises
around me, passes through me, shakes me to my core. I realize that that last
orgasm of hers never really stopped, and she is riding it out as I jettison
another epic load directly into her mouth.  
  
Finally I fall backward, gasping on the slippery surface of the island's
counter top, my cock momentarily softened for only the second time in the past
two days.  
  
Mom gives me a sleepy, chocolate smeared smile, and slumps backward. She
disappears. I lever myself to my feet and stumble to the edge, looking over
with apprehension.  
  
Mom lies in a contented jumble on the kitchen floor, gloriously nude and
gloriously fucked. "M'okay, hun," she manages to mumble in between deep,
shuddering gasps. "Jus' need t'catch breath."  
  
I slump, relieved. I've lost count of the number of times I've climaxed in the
last few minutes. More than is humanly possible, at any rate. I feel as though
I've just run a marathon. Even though I just woke up, I could use a nap.




        Hexed Ch. 03


_This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is
purely coincidental. All characters are 18 or older. This story features my
usual themes of Oedipal incest, exaggerated bodies, and copious fluids. _  
  
10.  
  
After she recovers, Mom showers alone. She lets me splash around in the sink.
At first I am disappointed, but I see the logic in it. Whenever we're too
close, explosive things happen. We both need a breather after the intensity of
the kitchen.  
  
Mom leaves me in the bathroom to get dressed, returning almost immediately,
having donned a diaphanous white tank top with a flower pattern that hugs her
every curve and shows her pale skin and pink nipples beneath. A loose pair of
sweat-shorts hangs off her hips. Her hair is still wet and hangs down her back
in long dark strands.  
  
Mom smiles at the effect of her costume on me. She scoops me up and carries me
down to the living room, depositing me on the couch. When I frown, she
explains, "I have to clean up the kitchen before we go any further. Watch some
TV. I won't be long."  
  
Reluctantly, I flip on the television and watch a few programs, flipping
through channels, not really finding anything. I'm sitting on the edge of the
couch, legs dangling over the side, with the remote at my elbow, slamming
buttons as the mood strikes me.  
  
After what seems like an eternity, Mom saunters back into the living room. Her
hair has dried, and looks a little frizzy, but she's tied it back from her
face into some kind of bun or something. She stands behind the couch, looking
over the back of it at me. I half turn and admire the view, the way her
immense breasts fill the tank top, confined and supported but revealing
everything. Mom smiles broadly. She plucks at the drawstrings on her shorts. I
hear fabric moving, see Mom's hips shift as her legs move.  
  
Mom climbs over the back of the couch, naked from the waist down, her huge,
beautiful pussy wet and gleaming. She ends up kneeling on the center cushion,
her creamy thighs framing my body. I look up into her pussy, and beyond to her
softly rounded belly and thrusting breasts.  
  
Mom chuckles, sultry and sexy, and scoops me up. Without preamble she swings
me around so that my engorged dick is pointed at her moist vagina. She brings
me close, smooshing my body against her. My cock penetrates, and I start
swinging my hips involuntarily, jamming into her. With my hands I start
banging against her clit, peeking out from its little hood. Mom moans, grinds
me into her pussy.  
  
Her hands shift, letting me hang upside down. My cock slips out of her warm,
wet gash. She swings my knees up, so that my feet press against her lips.
Slowly she eases me inside, up to my waist. I have to adjust my cock so that
it points away from me and into her. Inside her my knees bend as Mom continues
to push me into her. I sink in further, enjoying the warmth and moisture as
her entire pussy swallows me. As my chest is swallowed, I wrench my right arm
free, which elicits a hiss and hip jerk from Mom.  
  
I reach out for her clit, rubbing and caressing it the best I can with one
hand. At the same time, I attempt a modified frog kick with my legs. Mom's
entire body shudders, and I feel her lips tighten around my chest. Her
moisture soaks into my skin, drips down my pecs and onto my neck, trailing
along the edge of my chin and across my cheeks to pool in my hair.  
  
I expect to be pulled out and jammed back in, but Mom keeps me pinned. Her
inner walls tighten and loosen around me, flexing, caressing my entire body. I
press back against her with one arm and both legs, feeling her flesh give a
little, expanding and contracting against my actions. Her scent is
overpowering, sweet and salty and delicious. I lick her moisture from my lips,
suddenly struggling to breathe as it flows over the lower part of my face. I
suck it down, swallowing quickly, and take a shaky breath.  
  
Mom's hips jerk back and forth. Beneath us, the couch cushion groans. Above me
her breasts swing back and forth, immense and flexible tanks. I wish I could
reach up and grab them, bury my face between them, lick their every expanse,
suck on her nipples. I'd have to be normal size to do that, and we wouldn't be
together if I were. Right?  
  
I feel my climax approaching, and with it Mom's. Her contractions come faster
and harder now. My body is compressed within her, and my struggles against her
inner muscles grow more feeble. My cock is wedged between two folds of slick
flesh, sawing between them. My hips twist, and I hit some sensitive spot,
because Mom explodes at once, her pussy clamping down tight on me. Her
shoulders hunch and her breasts hang down, swinging left and right in the
confines of her tank top as her eyes shut and teeth clench and a long, low
moan comes from her.  
  
I explode as well, spraying rope after rope into Mom's sucking depths. My
balls feel as if they are being squeezed, my cock feels like it is expanding,
and the cum races up the barrel of my shaft to erupt with enormous force,
splattering against that sensitive spot with each shuddering spurt. Mom's moan
turns to a cry as her mouth drops open and her eyes squeeze shut even harder.  
  
I empty myself in her, my ejaculation taking forever. Spurt after spurt
spirals out of the head of my cock, filling her to the brim. Semen squeezes
out from the edges of her lips, washing over my chest. My head swims, as
hanging upside down the blood finally starts rushing to my head.  
  
At last, Mom pulls me free with a sucking sound. I am coated neck to foot in
semen and vaginal fluids. Our combined juices drip from Mom's gaping pussy
onto the towel draped across the couch cushion. Mom lifts me up to breast
level. She wears a satisfied smile.  
  
"Mmmm," she says, "you need another bath." She proceeds to lick me clean,
slurping up both her fluids and mine from my bruised and battered body. She
cleans me thoroughly, sensuously, pausing now and then to swallow noisily. She
makes contented noises and cooing sounds as she bathes me with her tongue,
paying particular attention to my rampant cock and swollen balls.  
  
When she's done, she slips my cock between her plush lips and coaxes me to
another thunderous climax, so that I spray another epic load across her tongue
and teeth and throat. She swallows greedily, moaning and humming, and cradles
me to one titanic breast.  
  
My mother has just used me as a sex toy and I loved every second of it.  
  
Her other hand has been cupping her mound this entire time. What has dripped
out of her vagina has pooled in her palm. She brings it up to her lips and
licks it clean with cat-like satisfaction.  
  
"Mmmm," she says. "I came in here to make a suggestion, but you looked so cute
and irresistible sitting there, I just had to fuck you."  
  
"You'll get no complaints from me."  
  
She laughs. Her thumb teases my cock. "No doubt," she says.  
  
"So... what were you going to suggest?"  
  
"Oh!" she says, laughing once more. "I'd forgotten again. You're so good at
distracting me. Anyway, what I meant to say was, we should have a fashion
show."  
  
Unless she's stashed a Barbie Dream House complete with Ken's wardrobe
somewhere, I don't think I'm putting on any kind of show. So I ask, "And by
'we' you mean what exactly?"  
  
She smiles a wicked smile, which makes her all the more beautiful. "Well, me
of course. But I need an audience." She pokes me in the chest with a finger
glazed in pussy juice. "That's where you come in, little man."  
  
"I think that's in my wheelhouse. So what do you have in mind?"  
  
She explains briefly, getting up from the couch and heading upstairs. She
leaves her shorts behind, which means I literally don't know where to look. Up
or down presents wonderful possibilities, and I find my neck getting a crick
in it from whipping it back and forth.  
  
Mom stops at the door to my room, opens it, and steps inside. I thought I had
gotten used to being small in my own house, but the all too familiar trappings
of my room remind me all over again that I am tiny. My twin bed is huge, as
are the suitcases making a pyramid by my desk and computer. The posters of
rock bands I barely even listen to anymore decorate the walls, as well as old
little league trophies and a low bookcase filled with books from college. The
curtains are drawn, but some of the midday sun leaks into the room. Mom sets
me down on my bed and steps back.  
  
"Wait here," she says. I admire the view as she turns to go and hurries from
the room, her beautiful, curvy ass flexing attractively as she departs. She
throws a knowing look over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall
towards her bedroom.  
  
I loose a low wolf whistle and settle down onto the comforter. I look around,
but that makes my heart heavy and my head hurt, so instead I focus on the open
door. I try to think how Mom will be dressed when she returns. It takes some
time for her to do so. Eventually, I start to get bored. My eyes wander around
the room.  
  
The surreality of my situation strikes me like a sledgehammer once again. The
house is familiar enough, but I have largely been spending my time in family
space and my mother's space. This room, however, is my space. My room. My size
in relation to it is one thing, what Mom and I are about to do in here is
another. It's wrong and right at the same time.  
  
Just as I begin to wonder if I'll ever be normal again, the floorboards in the
hallway creak, announcing Mom's approach. I immediately brighten, give my cock
a quick stroke, and get ready.  
  
11.  
  
Mom steps into the doorway and strikes a pose, head slightly down, one arm
raised to the door lintel, left leg forward, right leg turned and bent at the
knee.  
  
She wears a pair of white, four inch heels that raise her incredible height,
and add definition to her calves. Her legs are encased in tight black hose
that travels all the way up her long, long legs to terminate at her thighs,
where they are decorated with little pink bows. The band is tight against her
skin, required no tapes, and revealing yards of creamy skin. A pair of
diaphanous black boy-shorts hugs her hips and molds against her barely
concealed pussy. Her midriff is bare, as the purple blouse she wears is
unbuttoned, tied up beneath her breasts, and open at the throat, revealing the
black bra she wears, barely containing her titanic tits. The sleeves of her
blouse are rolled up as well, leaving most of her arms bare save for a silver
bracelet that dangles off her left wrist. Mom's long black hair is tied into
two pigtails, which bare her lovely neck, and hang over her chest, tied at the
ends with pink ribbon. She has left a tuft of bangs to hang over her forehead
and almost cover her left eye. Subtle makeup enhances her natural beauty, but
it is the sultry smile she wears that gets me heart pounding.  
  
Mom stands in the doorway for long moments, framing the space, shifting her
body in little ways to add emphasis to different parts of her anatomy. She
leans forward to flash an acre of cleavage, stretches both arms overhead to
thrust her breasts out further, makes a quarter turn and leans over to show
off the arc of her springy ass.  
  
Mom licks her lips and winks at me. She bats her eyelashes, but can't contain
an immediate laugh. "What does my little man think?"  
  
"You look fucking gorgeous," I say. I can't keep from giving my cock a few
strokes. It's so hard and ready, and she's so far away. I could leap across
the room and clamber up her perfect form, but somehow I sense this is not part
of the game.  
  
"Mmm, yes Robbie, stroke yourself for Mommy," she says. She turns, reaches out
onto the floor in the hall for something, and returns, holding a large glass
beer stein. "You're going to fill this for me," she says.  
  
I pause, looking at it. I don't see how that's going to happen. The bloody
thing is almost as tall as I am. Mom crosses the room and sets the stein down
next to me. I can look over the edge, but just. It comes up to my neck. I look
at her questioningly. Is she insane? Her gray eyes are gleaming with hunger
and lust. She is serious.  
  
Mom bends over, flashing those beautiful tits in my face, and grabs the
pillows at the head of the bed. She lays them out near me, and unceremoniously
sweeps me up and sets me down on top of them. She adjusts the beer stein.
There is give under the pillows, but not too much, and I am able to balance
myself upon them and aim my engorged cock at the mouth of the glass. Mom steps
back from the bed. I wobble a bit, but keep upright.  
  
Mom starts to pose again. She cups her breasts, pulls on the lapels of her
blouse, widening the view. She bends over, and even in the underwire bra her
breasts dangle, huge and round and gorgeous. She folds her hands demurely
across her crotch, which forces her upper arms to press against her breasts,
causing them to bulge outward. She bends further, and pretends to play with
her stockings, running her hands up and down their length, adjusting folds and
smoothing the fabric. She turns on her heels, butt arched outward, and gives
her right cheek a slap that sets her whole ass jiggling.  
  
Mom straightens, standing up, hips cocked. She unties the knot under her
breasts and lets the shirt slip to the floor. She cups her bra encased
breasts, running her hands up and over the cups, tracing her fingers across
the upper slopes. With a grin, she folds the left cup under her heavy breast,
leaving it to dangle happily, defying gravity and barely needing any support.
Her nipple is engorged and hard, and she teases it with a finger.  
  
I'm very close now. Mom smirks. She can sense my progress, judging by the wet
stain spreading across the front of her panties. She bends her neck and lifts
her left tit, so she can drag her tongue across its expanse and tease her
hardened nipple.  
  
And I'm off, spraying the first creamy load into the stein. Spurt spurt spurt.
Long streamers of creamy jizz erupt from the tip of the cock, falling in lazy
arcs to the bottom of the glass. Mom bites into her lower lip, nostrils
flaring, hips jerking a little. I scrape the head of my cock against the rim
of the stein, squeezing out the last few pendulous drops. And I keep stroking.  
  
Mom smiles broadly. She repeats the action with her right breast, folding the
cup underneath and playing with her nipple. She squats down on her heels,
stretching the fabric of her panties at her crotch, muscles in her thighs and
calves bunching up. Mom lifts and squeezes and teases her breasts. She forms
her full lips into a kiss and aims them at me.  
  
She rises, crouched, so her tits dangle, and lets them swing back and forth.
Slowly she straightens, still twisting, heavy breasts swaying back and forth
hypnotically. Mom crosses her arms beneath her breasts, raising them up,
almost as if offering them to me. Their plump fleshiness flows over her arms.  
  
"You know," she says, almost breaking the spell, "I wanted to wear my purple
bra, but I didn't see it in the drawer." Her voice is low and husky with need.
"Do you know where I found it?"  
  
I shake me head, hands sweeping up and down my turgidity, even though I know
the answer.  
  
"In the hamper," she says needlessly. "With a dried cum stain in the cup." She
laughs, low and sexy. "You know, I almost never wear that bra anymore. It's
actually too small for me. But it does make my tits look even bigger than they
are."  
  
That bra had a 38F tag. Too small? Holy – and I'm off again, spraying another
near continuous stream of cum into the cup. It splats as it hits the puddle of
cum at the bottom. My ass clenches and my hips jerk involuntarily as I aim my
shuddering cock at the beer stein and cum and cum and cum. Mom moans on the
other side of the room, her huge hand grazing the front of her panties. I
don't know why the mention of numbers does this to me. I can see her breasts,
I know how big they are, not only on her but in relation to me. Even at full
size, this silly monster cock I brandish would be swallowed between them. But
still, having that size quantified with a measurement sets my blood boiling.  
  
As my flood subsides, Mom is breathing heavily. She is crouching again,
reclining on her heels. She pushes the front of her panties aside and dips a
few fingers into her honey pot. I feel the phantom caresses stroking my cock.
"Mommy wears a G cup now," she says, cupping one massive breast and finger
fucking herself at the same time.  
  
Immediately after my last orgasm, I am triggered again, somewhat weaker this
time, but still a gusher. My hose sprays the side of the beer stein, and my
cum washes down the glass side to join the growing pool at the bottom. Mom
shudders and moans, riding the crest of our mutual climax with eyes closed and
teeth gritted. When she stops shaking, she rises from her crouch and stretches
like a cat. She eyes the beer stein hungrily.  
  
"I think you can really do it," she says, almost to herself. She flushes,
looks at me, gauging my reaction.  
  
I smile. "You do inspire me," I manage to gasp out.  
  
Mom returns my grin. "Ready for the next outfit? I'll try not to be too long."  
  
I nod. I could use the breather. With a sexy smile, Mom swipes a glistening
finger across my chest, marking me with her vaginal fluids, then saunters out
of the room, hips swaying and gorgeous ass flexing.  
  
I give my cock a few swipes while I wait, not that I need fluffing. The hex
ensures I am hard and leaking precum perpetually.  
  
Mom returns shortly.  
  
She's pulled the ribbons from her hair and brushed it out a little, leaving it
wild and tousled but back from her face. A little black choker is tied around
her neck, depending from which is a large, most likely fake, ruby.  
  
Mom's curves stretch a tight red dress to bursting. It has a deep scoop neck
that shows off her huge breasts. Narrow ties wrap around her shoulders to
provide some semblance of support. Her hard nipples are clearly visible
through the thin material. The dress hugs the curve of her belly like a second
skin. The fabric on the sides has been scalloped, baring her ribs and the top
curve of her hips. When she whirls, she shows that most of her back is naked
as well. The skirt of the dress is long, hanging down to the floor, but slit
up the sides. A narrow band of fabric, only four inches or so thick, rides her
hips, connecting the front of the dress to the back. The back rides low enough
that I can see the top of her ass. Red four inch heels, tied around her
ankles, complete the look. It's clear she isn't wearing a bra, but I don't
know if she has panties on under the skirt.  
  
Mom glides into the room, letting the skirt swing and sway, alternately
covering and revealing her long, toned legs. Her tits swing around unsupported
on her chest, and I can almost hear the strain in the straps as they try to
hold back her massive mammaries. Mom puts a crooked finger between her lips
and eyes me suggestively, hips cocked, one leg bare, the other hidden.  
  
Where has she been hiding this wardrobe? I wonder, as I furiously tug at my
cock.  
  
Mom leans forward, hands on knees. Her tits swing out like low-hanging fruit,
full and succulent and all but revealed. The fabric of the dress stretches and
rolls, revealing the upper arc of each pink areola, but seems stopped by her
hard nipples. Mom sucks a little on that finger, pulls it free. It glistens
wetly with her saliva.  
  
Mom straightens and teases a nipple through her dress top with the wet finger.
Probing, poking, twisting. Her other hand cups and kneads the other breast,
and it starts to pop out of its meager confines. Mom smirks and hooks her
hands up under the straps, letting them fall off her shoulders. She peels the
front of the dress down off her breasts, which pop free with a sexy bounce.  
  
I reach a minor climax, coaxing another impressive load from my balls,
emptying it in to the beer stein at my feet. Mom hisses, hips shaking, eyes
half-lidded. Her tongue darts out to trace her lower lip. She teases her
nipples, cups and bounces her breasts, squeezing them together, pushing them
up against her chest so that her breasts flow over her clutching fingers,
nipples scraping against her palms.  

Mom spreads her legs, the skirt draping between them. She throws her head back
and her tits swing up, then bends over quickly, sending them bobbing in the
other direction. Mom's hands run down her sleek, muscular legs and she grips
her ankles. Long black hair obscures her face, but I hear her panting and see
her breasts swinging and swaying enticingly. She unfolds from her position,
sliding her hands back up her legs, but keeping them splayed.  
  
Mom reaches the small span of fabric on either hip and unsnaps them. She
swings the skirt to the left and right, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the
abbreviated red panties she wears. Hardly a thong, just a tiny triangle of
satiny red fabric covering her mons, connected by a thin red string that rides
across her hips. She rotates slowly, still swinging the skirt, shaking her
ass, and I see that the dental floss rides deep into her ass crack, making the
globes of her scrumptious ass effectively naked.  
  
Mom leans over again, flexing her toned calves and creamy thighs, thrusting
her magnificent butt into the air. She flips the skirt up onto her bare back,
allowing me to drink in the sight of her enormous, shapely backside.  
  
I stroke myself to completion again. Pearly white cream erupts in streamers
from the end of my cock, splattering with sickening sounds in the growing pool
within the stein. The cum oozes down the slick sides of the glass, thick,
viscous, steaming. I can't get the scent of blueberries out of my nostrils.  
  
Mom braces herself on the floor with one hand, legs still splayed, skirt up on
her back. She eases aside the tiny fabric of her panties, revealing the
engorged, coral pink lips of her moist pussy. Two fingers dip within, teasing
her folds. Phantom caresses run up and down my cock as Mom's hips rise and
fall to the rhythm of her fingers. Her fingers and thighs glisten with her
juices. Her breath comes in short sharp gasps. Suddenly she drops to her
knees, the muscles in her legs spasming. The globes of her ass bunch up, and
her back muscles tighten.  
  
I cum along with her, adding more and more to the stein. I'm getting light
headed. I should be dehydrated or having a heart attack, or at least be chafed
beyond belief. Yet the hex keeps me lubricated and energized.  
  
The stein is just over halfway full. It's disgusting and arousing in equal
proportion, but the ratio begins to tip in the latter direction when Mom looks
over her shoulder at it, and without touching herself, appears to have a mini-
orgasm. I squirt too, a somewhat modest amount compared to previous efforts,
but still more than should be possible.  
  
Mom ducks her head, catching her breath, and when she looks up again, she
wears a dazzling, sexy smile. She leaves the room on all fours, wiggling her
ass every step of the way, and only gets to her feet when she reaches the
hall. Mom winks salaciously at me. "Hold on tiger," she says, and darts away.  
  
I slump back on the pillows, breathing heavily myself. I am drenched in sweat,
except from the waist down, which is drenched in precum.  
  
What is happening to me? This is all getting out of hand. Okay, right, I
shouldn't have eaten the pie, but give me a break, I was drunk. I mean, I am
enjoying myself, as much as one can, but every new development just sets me
off kilter a little more. If I wasn't so constantly horny and aroused, I would
be going insane.  
  
These are the thoughts that occupy my mind while I wait.  
  
How is Mom dealing with this? She's not tiny. She's not stuck at a fraction of
her own height, imprisoned in her own home. Why is she giving in to this lust?
She could have left me here for the weekend and escaped, or something, but
instead she is throwing herself fully into this twisted sexual game. She's
enjoying this, making suggestions, planning things, using me.  
  
What is going on in that big, beautiful head of hers?  
  
Reason flees again as Mom slithers into the room. Her long black hair is tied
up and pinned with long pieces of lacquered wood that look like chopsticks.
Big hoop earrings dangle from each ear, decorated with little green stones.
Her bra is bright green, with a solid half cup beneath her breasts, and a see-
through mesh along the top. Her belly is bare, declining into a green pair of
panties that hug her hips. The front is already noticeably darker than the
rest of the fabric, and it's clearly molded to her lips. Her legs are bare,
smooth and toned, but she wears a pair of open toed three inch heels, also
green in color. Over it all is a green silk kimono etched with a sinuous black
dragon.  
  
Mom stands with fists on hips, pushing the kimono open and displaying her
generous assets. One foot curls inward. She smiles with half-lidded eyes.  
  
She shrugs, slipping the kimono backward and baring her shoulders. Her tits
shiver in the confines of her green bra. Mom reaches up and pulls first one
and then the other pin free, letting her hair fall out in dark curls down her
back. She shakes her hair out and lets the kimono slip down her arms until it
is caught in the curve of her elbow. The back of the kimono flutters against
her knees.  
  
Mom makes a few steps across the room, getting closer to the bed, where I
stand admiring her and wanking furiously. She watches me, a slow smile
spreading across her full lips. She reaches up to the front of the bra and
unsnaps it, peeling the cups away from her breasts, which bobble and jiggle
and shake, settling on her chest. She flicks her nipples with her fingers,
teasing them, making them harder and harder.  
  
With a grunt, I erupt once more. My distended cock throbs and bucks in my
hands, spraying more ropes of creamy cum into the stein. Mom nods approvingly
while she continues to play with her breasts. In some complicated, practiced
maneuver that I barely follow, Mom manages to extricate herself from her bra
without having to remove the kimono.  
  
Mom bends down, cupping her breasts as they dangle off her chest, and swings
them with her hands, to and fro, back and forth. "You love Mommy's big
titties, don't you Robbie," she whispers. She is close enough that her breath
washes over me, cooling the sweat soaked hair sticking to my scalp. Mom laughs
at my expression, not unkindly, and crouches down at the edge of the bed. Her
titanic breasts rise up and over the lip of the comforter, and she continues
to manipulate them with her hands. She lifts first one and then the other to
her lips, lashing each nipple with her sinuous pink tongue.  
  
"Cum for me, Robbie," she whispers. "Cum for Mommy."  
  
So I do. The first jet arcs over the edge of the stein and actually splatters
across Mom's left breast, causing her to squeal, but I aim the rest of my
climax into the stein. The level is rising rapidly. I think I'm going to fill
it soon. Which is insane and hot and sick.  
  
Mom stands up, taking a step backward. She is shaking with the reverberations
of her own orgasm. She abandons her breasts. Both hands flutter down her
smooth belly to her panties. She poses a bit, making quarter turns that show
off her breasts in profile, and also allow her to hike up her panties along
her hip line, emphasizing the width and curve of her hips. But then with a
shuddering breath, Mom pulls the panties down her legs. The fabric comes free
of her pussy with a wet, sucking sound. She pulls them down to mid-thigh,
before bringing her hands back to the delta between her legs. One hand parts
her lips with the thumb teasing her clit, while the other hand sends two long
fingers into her depths to part and tease her juicy pink folds.  
  
It doesn't take long before Mom sets herself off, triggering my own climax.
She curls over, panting and shaking, while I aim my dripping, spraying rod
into the stein. The level is near the top, and I can almost feel the warmth
radiating off from the sea of spunk.  
  
Mom winks at me and offers me a sultry smile. She totters out of the room on
weak legs, panties still stretched between her thighs. "One more, I think,"
she says aloud, but softly. She looks back at me over her shoulder. I admire
her full ass, and the way her huge tits hang so wide and full that I can still
see their outer curves even when from behind. "Needs to be special," she adds,
but I'm not sure she's talking to me. Mom pauses to wipe clean the spray of
sperm on her left breast, sucking it off her thumb.  
  
I slump back on the pillows. My dick is still rockhard, and even through the
layer of precum that coats its surface, it looks red. Almost swollen. I've
been giving it considerable punishment the last few hours. It's still raging,
and I'm still monstrously horny. I wonder again what exactly Mom is feeling.
This can't be any less strange for her, but she's throwing herself into it
with total abandon.  
  
Maybe I shouldn't have done that trick with the shot glass after all. At the
time, I could barely think. My action was the only one I could fathom taking.
Why is my mind clearing now, even if just a little bit? Is it because I'm
alone, or because I've been cumming so damn much?  
  
Mom sweeps into the room once more, and I stand at attention.  
  
Her hair remains tousled, as if she just got up from bed. She is barefoot, and
wears no jewelry. Her outfit is simple, flowing, and abbreviated. It is wine
dark, consisting of a narrow strap around her neck that flares out into two
triangles of fabric, decorated with a flowery pattern, to barely cover her
huge breasts. The sling is tight, lifting her tits but not supporting them,
causing them to ride high on her chest but bulge outwards on both sides. A
thin strip of flower print fabric connects them, just beneath Mom's cleavage.
Hanging off the "cups" are two long, diaphanous panels that fall to the floor.
The way they hang leaves her smooth rounded belly bare and exposes the see-
through g-string that adorns her crotch.  
  
Mom stands in the doorway in that magnificent nightdress, looking spectacular
and sexy, and yet there's a look of uncertainty on her face. She looks
directly at me, seeming to ponder something. A look of resolve comes over her
pretty face. She steps into the room.  
  
"The lonely mother," she says, "walks into her son's room. He is away at
college, leaving her alone in the home they share." She takes the diaphanous
panels in hand and swirls them around her ankles. Her unsupported breasts
jiggle prettily.  
  
What is she doing?  
  
"The lonely mother thinks about her son. She misses him. He is so handsome
now, a young man, grown tall and strong." Mom's fingers lightly dance across
her naked belly. She's not looking at me now, but turning her head around,
drinking in the sight of my ordinary, unspectacular bedroom.  
  
"He looks so much like his father," she continues, "and the lonely mother
sometimes finds herself thinking... things. Inappropriate things." Her fingers
climb up to dance across her chest. They slip between the fabric of the
nightdress and her skin, rubbing and caressing flesh, stretching clothing.  
  
Mom suddenly raises her arms and throws her head back. "The lonely mother
throws herself across his bed, hoping to feel some memory of his warm body
against the sheets, hoping to catch one breath of his masculine scent
lingering on his pillow."  
  
I'm not sure where this is going, but my dick seems to like it. I am moments
away from jetting another load into the stein.  
  
Mom's hands slip completely under the top of her nightdress, kneading and
caressing her gorgeous breasts. "The lonely mother thinks about her son's
strong hands, touching her, caressing her, roaming over her full, ripe, lush
body." One hand slides down her belly and cups her crotch. And I'm off,
spraying jet after voluminous jet into the stein. Mom hitches, sucks in a
breath, and teases her gash through her g-string.  
  
"The lonely mother rolls around on her son's bed. She imagines what his young,
virile cock looks like. Long and thick, dripping for her the way she is
dripping for him." The panel of the g-string is pushed aside, Mom's fingers go
to work. Her breasts pop out of the top, tugged free one after the other, and
she kneads and caresses with her other hand. Her knees bend as she begins to
shake, unable to remain standing. She kneels slowly on the rug.  
  
I'm barely touching myself now, my climax triggered by Mom's. My seed goes
flying, splattering into the stein. The glass is almost full.  
  
"She imagines how his cock will feel in her hands, squeezed between her
motherly breasts, rubbed against her cheeks. She imagines how her son will
taste, how he will fill her mouth, and how quickly she can coax his seed down
her throat." Mom's hips hitch, she cries out, and I'm roaring in climax
myself. All I have to do is aim it at this point.  
  
Mom catches her breath. Her closed eyes open a slit, then widen as she takes
in the amount of spunk sloshing around in the stein. "Holy fuck," she
breathes. She licks her lips, and is suddenly back in character. "She wonders
how quickly she will be able to get him to recover, how roughly he will throw
her to the bed, how forcefully he will part her legs. The lonely mother
wonders how it will feel when her son slides his cock into his mother's sweet,
waiting pussy. How it will feel churning inside her, bringing her to ecstatic
heights undreamed of, and how, at last, he will feel when his powerful hungry
cock empties its load deep... deep... deep... inside her!" Her voice rises
with each word, until she is practically screaming at the end, shuddering and
shaking with fingers deep thrust inside her.  
  
I hold the base of my dick, feeling the familiar tingle start, the squeeze of
my balls, the sickly fantastic feeling of the cum racing up through my weapon,
and finally erupting in wet, sticky splats from the narrow hole at the top.
Long arcs of viscous jism spray from my cock, into the steaming mass of cum
filling the stein. The level rises to the brim, sloshes over the edge, and
drips down the sides in long, gelid trails.  
  
I slump on the pillow, spent and gasping. My head is spinning. Mom slumps on
the bedroom floor herself, her back rising and falling, rising and falling, as
she tries to catch her breath.  
  
Finally she looks up, still gasping, and I see tears in her gray eyes. She
blinks them away, suddenly smiling broadly, happily. Mom rises to her feet on
shaky pins. "Oh Robbie," she says, her voice raspy, "you did it. You've given
Mommy such a treat."  
  
She tugs the nightdress off and lets it flutter to the floor. In one smooth,
quick movement, she divests herself of panties as well. She stands nude and
glorious in the middle of my bedroom. Her hair is wild, and trails of golden
fluid track down her thighs.  
  
Mom crosses to the bed. She scoops me up in her left hand and grabs the beer
stein with her right. Cum sloshes from the top and splatters her hand. Mom
half-shudders. She wasn't kidding – she really is a cumfiend. She's getting
off just looking at all that pearly white juice.  
  
I can barely think. This close to her again, I am overcome with her scent, the
mix of her natural smell, perfume, and arousal. She holds me at hip height,
letting me look up and up and up to her swaying tits as she carries me and the
stein out into the hall and away from her bedroom. We reach the second floor
bathroom quickly. She nudges the door open with a foot.  
  
This room is spare, white, sparkling clean. This is the bathroom I used when I
lived here, and it hasn't been touched much since I've been gone. Mom sets me
down on the marble top of the sink and sweeps aside the shower curtain. She
steps naked into the tub, which is not nearly as wide as the one in her
bathroom.  
  
Mom's eyes are shining with lust and hunger and something I can't quite
describe. My dick aches between my legs. I can see fluid glistening on Mom's
labial lips, darkening the neat patch of pubic hair just above. Her clit is
proud, peeking out of its hood.  
  
Mom hefts the stein, her hand already nearly coated with cum and drippings.
Mom shivers with anticipation. "Oh fuck, I've wanted to do something like this
for so long." She breathes deeply. "I never thought it would be with you,
though. It makes it extra special, I think. Or maybe I'm just crazy. But that
you would do this for your mother... oh, Robbie." She trails off into a moan
and lifts the stein to her full pink lips.  
  
With her mouth open, she tips the stein over. The contents sludge over the
lip, into her mouth, pouring straight down her throat. She swallows, but the
tide perforce overwhelms her. Cream slathers down her chin, drips down her
throat in waves, and pours over her heaving breasts. A torrent of my cum
streams down Mom's body, rolling in slick, gooey waves between her tits,
across her belly, seeping into her pubic hair and washing across her pussy.
Cum rolls down her creamy thighs as she kneels inside the tub, shivering in
ecstasy.  
  
From the moment the cream touches Mom's tongue, she starts cumming, which
triggers my own reaction. I stand on the edge of the sink, watching her flip
out as jizz pours over and into her, a tidal wave of spunk, and I start
jettisoning another load, straight off the side of the sink onto the floor.  
  
Mom is moaning as the last dregs of spunk slip out of the stein and into her
mouth. Her free hand roams over her body, smearing the goo into her skin,
rubbing it around, making trails, soaking it in. Her eyes are closed and her
pussy is clenching with need as she rides a perpetual orgasm. I spring across
the gap between sink and tub, landing lightly on the edge. My cock is still
spraying, and I slip a bit, suddenly off-kilter. For a moment I fear I'll
topple over the side and crack my skull open, but somehow I manage to stay
upright. I grip my cock with both hands and point it in Mom's direction,
sending a near continuous stream of cum arcing towards her. It feels so good
it is almost painful, and I appreciate what it means to be multi-orgasmic.  
  
Mom doesn't seem to notice me. She sets the stein down in the basin of the
tub. She squats on her calves, undulating her belly, tensing the muscles in
her legs, making gooey cum run down her flesh. With both hands free she begins
to scoop cum up off her body and feed it to herself, sucking and licking her
fingers with loud smacking sounds. Cum bubbles form on her lips, and she
suddenly burps unceremoniously, causing her to open her eyes in embarrassment.
This makes her aware of me, and though she reddens a bit, she scoots closer to
me. Her skin squeaks on the surface of the tub.  
  
She draws close enough that my rain of cum strikes her belly, unnecessarily
adding to the torrent already staining her from throat to knee. Mom plays with
her tits and shoves a hand into her crotch, spreading her pussy lips and
shoveling cum covered fingers into her depths.  
  
This just heightens the feelings washing over my distended, spraying dick. I
feel myself growing lightheaded. I've been generating an unearthly amount of
man-juice for the past few days, particularly in the last few hours, and
apparently my body is finally beginning to feel the toll. I feel stretched
thin, worn out. I feel empty. But still I am cumming.  
  
Mom is shaking and shuddering. She cups a cum smeared hand under my waterfall,
and after a little bit pools in her palm, she feeds it to herself noisily,
greedily.  
  
My vision swims. My peripheral vision begins to fog and darken. I'm cumming
and I can't stop. I can't... stop.  
  
I feel my legs slip out from under me. Everything goes black.  
  
12.  
  
Slowly I come back to myself.  
  
I awake laid out on the head of my mother's bed, stretched across the length
of a pillow, with a small blanket covering my body. My body is clean and
smells of soap, which suggests Mom washed me while I was unconscious. My dick,
soft while I slept, immediately begins to lengthen and harden as consciousness
returns.  
  
Otherwise, the room is dark and empty. Moonlight filters through the shades
and curtains in the windows. I must have been out for hours.  

My whole body aches. I stretch, slip out from under the blanket and slip off
the pillow. I walk across the bed and leap down to the floor.  
  
I take my time making my way through the house, looking for Mom. The door to
my bedroom is still open, her clothes strewn across the floor. The bathroom at
the end of the hall is a mess, still reeks of blueberries. I leap down the
stairs.  
  
The living room is dark, but the television is on, casting a cool blue glow
around the room. I don't see Mom immediately, but after I bound up to the top
of the couch, I find her laid out and unconscious.  
  
She is dressed relatively conservatively in white capri pants that leave her
calves and feet bare, and a tiny blue t-shirt that stretches tight across her
massive chest. She has one arm thrown across her eyes, and her hair spills out
around her head in a black halo as she reclines against a pillow. Mom snores
softly.  
  
I sit down on the back of the couch and survey the landscape. She really is a
beautiful and beautifully formed woman, well rounded curves in all the right
places. But she's also my mother.  
  
This whole thing is just so... so... WEIRD. And then there's the little
performance that ended the fashion show.  
  
I walk to the north end of the couch and slide down the slope of the cushion,
coming to land beside her arm. I reach out and give Mom a gentle shake. She
shifts, swats at me with her other hand, and rolls over, towards the TV. I
slip down between her and the back of the couch. Sudden panic, as I realize
what danger I am in. Fear lends me strength, and I bound back up to the top of
the couch in one leap as Mom shifts backward. Her shoulders press against the
couch, right where I had been a moment ago.  
  
I navigate down again, to the arm of the couch and around to Mom's front. Her
arm is no longer stretched across her face. Her eyes are closed, however, her
mouth half open as she sleeps. Her breath, sweet and warm, washes over me,
ruffles my hair.  
  
I pat Mom on the cheek. "Mom... Mom... wake up."  
  
Her eyes open a slit. Pupils dilate, open wider as she struggles up from sleep
and realizes what is happening.  
  
"Robbie?" she says sleepily. "Oh." She blinks, starts to sit up. I wave her
back down and she subsides. "Are you okay? I was so worried about you."  
  
"Yeah, I'm okay. A little sore. Very thirsty. But not hurt. I kind of expected
to wake up with a broken leg, if I woke up at all."  
  
Mom smiles. "I caught you when you slipped off the edge of the tub. But you
were already unconscious. I guess I wore you out." She blushes slightly.  
  
"Yeah, well, that was a pretty intense afternoon."  
  
Mom laughs uncertainly. "Yeah. You, uh, you saw some strange corner's of your
mother's psyche. I hope I didn't scare you or weird you out." She laughs
again. "I mean, I hope I didn't scare you too much or weird you out beyond
repair."  
  
"No, no, it's okay. I mean, yeah, I wasn't really prepared for all of that to
happen. But it was also pretty hot. I guess it's just a little odd finding out
your Mom is so... um..."  
  
"Fucked up?" she says. The blush has deepened. She's not quite looking at me,
even though I'm standing in front of her face.  
  
"I was going to say 'kinky.'"  
  
Mom's gray eyes refocus on me. "Is that bad?"  
  
"No, it's not bad, it's just... I don't know. I dated a woman in Australia for
a couple weeks. Older lady, in her late thirties, and she liked me to tie her
up. It never really did anything for me, but she enjoyed it."  
  
"Really?" Mom says. "You never mentioned this woman before."  
  
"I guess we had to have sex together before we could have frank and open
discussions about sex," I say somewhat lightly. But instead of making her
smile, it only makes her frown.  
  
"I'm such a horrible mother." She sighs. "You should be able to trust me with
that sort of thing, Robbie. You can tell me anything."  
  
"I guess I can."  
  
We stare at one another for long moments. I feel uncertain, unbalanced. Even
after what she's just said, I'm not sure I want to ask my next question. But I
think I have to.  
  
"So, Mom."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I have to ask. About, um, that last thing you did. The monologue,
performance, whatever." I take a deep breath. My body is betraying me, as my
cock is getting harder, throbbing right in front of her. "The 'lonely mother'
thing."  
  
Mom turns bright red. She blinks rapidly. Her full lips part, she takes a deep
breath, closes them again. "Yes, that."  
  
I nod. "Yes, that."  
  
She giggles, a nervous sound. "It's complicated. I made it up on the spot. And
yet it's been in the back of my head for a long time." She sighs, looks away,
looks back at me. "Your father has been gone a long time. You look a lot like
him. A lot. And you've been away most of the last four years, especially the
last few months. Once in a while, the thought has occurred to me, and not in
any kind of a serious way mind you, that it might be nice to kiss you. Like a
woman kisses a man, not like a mom kisses a son. But just passing thoughts.
Not even a full blown fantasy.  
  
"And then... this whole situation happens. And here we are, having a sexual
relationship. I just thought I'd play with that idea a little bit. I think we
both enjoyed it." She pauses, gauges my reaction. "Did you?" she asks in as
quiet a voice as a fifty foot woman can manage.  
  
My turn to blush furiously. "I did, I think. No, I know I did." I look down at
my rampant cock, give it a flex. "No use lying about it, you can see what my
reaction is."  
  
Mom laughs, some of the tension draining from her face and voice. "I'm glad. I
don't want to do anything to hurt you or drive you away. I know I enjoyed it
too." She sighs again. "Now what about all the cumplay? Did that gross you out
entirely?"  
  
"A little bit," I say honestly. "But it was pretty hot too."  
  
She breathes a sigh of relief, ruffling my hair again. "Oh, good. I was
worried about that, too." She pauses, looking at me intently. "Should we stop
this?"  
  
So. There's the question of the hour. Part of me wants to say "yes." This is
sick and wrong. Perverted and depraved. But a bigger part, maybe the part
throbbing between my legs, urges me to say "no." Still, it's a serious
question, and it deserves serious debate. So I tell Mom what I'm feeling, how
I'm conflicted, not sure what I want, what we should do.  
  
"I have to be honest with you, Robbie. The last few days have been two of the
most intense and enjoyable of my sexual career. I have... cut loose with you
in a way I haven't ever before. I don't know if it's because you're my son and
I feel I can trust you completely, or because you're trapped at that size and
I can basically do whatever I want with you. That you seem to be enjoying
yourself as much as I am just sort of eggs me on, makes me lose my mind a
little bit. So that's a bit of a pro and a con. I'm the adult, the parent, and
I shouldn't let myself lose control like that, especially around you."  
  
"We're both adults, Mom. We're both complicit. But if I ever said 'no' to you,
you would stop. We both know that."  
  
She frowns. Even then, she's extraordinarily pretty. "I'm touched that you
believe that, honey. But I'm not sure I would. And I'm not sure I can entirely
blame it on the hex. My subconscious is a pretty dark and scary place.  
  
"I've been thinking about things this afternoon, while you've been resting.
Why did I make the pie a blueberry pie? I know it's your favorite. Why didn't
I throw it out when you came home? Instead I just left a note, which you have
a habit of ignoring. Did I want this to happen? Did some part of me engineer
this whole scenario, just to put you under my power and have my way with you?"  
  
I look at Mom, stricken. I can't say those thoughts haven't occurred to me,
but I dismissed them. Mom isn't that calculating or heartless. There are tears
in her eyes. I step forward and put a hand against her cheek. Unfortunately,
my dick nudges up against her lips, eliciting a gasp from both of us. I tug it
back and hold it away from her, trying to awkwardly and poorly hug her.  
  
"Mom," I say, "you couldn't have intended this to happen. It was an accident.
I don't blame you – no one made me eat the pie. And you were doing pretty well
hiding your own arousal up until I jacked off into the shotglass. If anything,
I'm to blame."  
  
The salty tears flow down her cheeks, across where my hand touches her cheek.
But she's smiling. I feel a huge hand against my back as Mom pushes me towards
her. I hug her face, while her hand hugs my whole body. "Oh Robbie, I love you
so much."  
  
"I love you too, Mom."  
  
Still holding me against her, she says, "I guess the blame game isn't going to
get us anywhere. We have to answer the question that we've been avoiding. Do
we continue with this dalliance? Or control ourselves?"  
  
My dick, slick with precum, slips out of my grasp and slaps against Mom's
lips. Her tongue unconsciously darts out to give it a taste. I shudder with
pleasure.  
  
And I suppose we have our answer. We couldn't control ourselves if we wanted
to – I think we'd just make ourselves miserable if we tried. What was it Mom
said a day and a thousand years ago? Oh yeah: we'll just have to ride this
out.  
  
Might as well have some fun while we do.  
  
I grip the base of my cock and manipulate my rod, rubbing the spongy head
against Mom's plush lips, leaving a tiny trail of precum which she avidly
licks away.  
  
"I think we should enjoy this while it lasts," I say.  
  
Mom smiles. Her lips purse, kissing my cock lightly. "I'm glad you feel that
way."  
  
I lean down and kiss Mom on the cheek, a tiny peck that I am sure she barely
feels. I crane my neck towards the other end of the couch and leap away,
landing at her feet.  
  
Mom starts. "Where are you going?"  
  
"I'm going to undress you," I say, puffing out my chest.  
  
"Oh, are you?" she says with a laugh. "Should I stand up?"  
  
"No, stay where you are. Lay in the middle, if you would."  
  
Mom complies, shifting on the couch so that she lies on her back, legs
slightly spread, arms wide, huge breasts slowly rising and falling. A bemused
look is on her pretty face as she watches me approach her across the couch
cushions.  
  
I clamber up onto her crotch, which starts her giggling. I try to keep a
straight face as I struggle with the button. Finally I wedge it through the
loop. Next is the zipper, which I grab with both hands and tug forcefully. It
comes slowly, but it comes. With a rasp, the zipper opens up, revealing a pair
of plain white panties beneath. I hop up onto Mom's hips and start curling the
waistband down, but it's like the pants are painted on. Mom laughs lightly. I
flash her a stern look over my shoulder.  
  
I leap down to her ankles and tug on each pant leg in turn. My strength belies
my mass, and the pants begin to draw down Mom's legs. I'm aided by the fact
that Mom has lifted her ass off the couch. But the pants are catching on that
ass, full and round and perfect as it is.  
  
I spring back to Mom's hips, first on the right and then on the left, and work
on rolling the pants down off her hips and butt. She steadies herself on her
palms, watching me work, offering neither encouragement nor hindrance. I am
sweating buckets from the exertion, but whatever my metabolism is doing, it's
generating plenty of energy. I'm not tired. In fact, I'm getting more and more
excited.  
  
Once the pants are off her hips, they're a little easier to move. The mass of
them as they bulk up on her thighs makes it difficult, but by leaping over and
pulling on her pantleg, I'm able to slip them off completely, relatively
quickly.  
  
Once they're off, Mom stretches her legs, spreads them, and then makes a
little bicycle movement with them. Her feet flash by overhead, and I admire
the way the muscles in her thighs and calves flex.  
  
The t-shirt is next. I spring back to Mom's waist, and make a short hop up
onto her belly. I grab the bottom edge and start to roll it up and over her
smooth, softly rounded belly. Mom shifts underneath me. Her butt now planted
on the cushion, she sits up, allowing me to lift the back of the t-shirt along
with the front. Mom's belly shivers under my feet - she is slightly ticklish
there, as I approach the mountains of her breasts.  
  
I pause just beneath them, scratching my head in mock consternation. Mom
laughs loudly, which unbalances me and sends me spilling down her belly to
land in the V between her legs. I can feel the heat radiating off her pussy
through her panties. Plenty of time for that later.  
  
I clamber back to my feet, eliciting a hiss of arousal from Mom as my
carefully placed weight bumps against sensitive parts of her anatomy. I spring
up to her breasts, catching hold of her bra under shirt, and climb up onto the
shelf of her right tit. With a smirk, I slip under the V-neck collar into her
cleavage. My feet sink into her soft skin, and my legs slip between her
breasts. Her flesh envelops me, pushes against me. I grab t-shirt fabric with
both hands and start tugging, gradually and insistently pulling it over my
head. Her scent is all around me, filling my breath, soaking into my skin.  
  
The bra, like her panties, is a plain white affair with smooth cups. It comes
into view as the t-shirt bunches up over my head, finally pulled over her
enormous breasts.  
  
I slip out of Mom's cleavage with a little reluctance, leaving a tiny puddle
of precum behind. I crane my neck, looking over the bunched up t-shirt into
Mom's eyes. She is smiling broadly, one brow arched with curiosity.  
  
"And the sleeves?" she says.  
  
Damn. Hadn't considered those. I look with genuine consternation at Mom's
shoulders. "Lay back, please," I say, "and raise your arms."  
  
"Yes, sir," Mom says, chuckling. She reclines, raising her arms over her head.
This serves to lift her breasts as well, and I rise with them.  
  
With Mom's co-operation and a little jumping back and forth and a lot of
tugging, I get the t-shirt over Mom's head. With that done, I can grab the
sleeves and pull first one and then the other along the length of her arms.
Mom slithers her hands through the sleeves for me, allowing the shirt to fall
off the arm of the couch and pool on the floor. From beside Mom's head I
survey my handiwork, hands on hips, breathing heavy and sweating profusely.  
  
Mom's enormous, curvy body is laid out before me, clad in a modest white bra
and panty set. Her pale skin glimmers in the subdued light from the TV screen.
With arms raised, her breasts are pushed together, creating a deep canyon
between them. Her smooth belly flows into her pubis, momentarily hidden
beneath her panties. She is rubbing her thighs together in anticipation.  
  
"Sit up again, please," I say, and Mom complies.  
  
"Of course, dear." Her smooth back rises before me, long dark hair hanging
over her shoulders. She turns her head, looking over at me with one eye and a
smirk twisting her full lips. Using the couch arm as a ledge, I lean forward
and reach for the hooks at the back of her bra. Mom's hand comes behind her,
hovering nearby to catch me or lend me aid. I ignore it, struggling with the
hooks. There are six of them, which seems excessive at the moment, but are
probably important given how much weight they have to support. It's like
trying to throw six deadbolts all at once.  
  
Mom throws her shoulders back, lessening the tension a bit. I get one hook
free, and the others follow in quick succession. Gasping, I wipe sweat from my
forehead and sit back for a moment to catch my breath. I let myself admire the
smooth musculature of her back, a field of flesh that fills my vision.  
  
"You okay back there?" Mom asks.  
  
"Yes," I grunt. "Just catching my breath."  
  
"Do you want me to-?"  
  
"No," I say quickly. "I'll do it." I take a few more quick breaths and leap up
onto Mom's right shoulder. She sways a bit with the impact, and I have to grab
a lock of hair to keep from tumbling to the floor, which looks very far away.
This yields a yelp, for which I quickly apologize. Still, I'm going to really
miss this crazy agility when I recover my height.  
  
"You could warn a girl," she says, a little grumpy.  
  
I let go of her hair and balance myself on her shoulder. Reaching down, I lift
up the shoulder strap just a bit and let it fall. I gently pull some of Mom's
hair aside and whisper into her ear, "Hold still." I bend my knees and launch
myself over her head, coming to land quite ably on her other shoulder. The
back of the couch will cushion my fall if I lose my balance. I repeat the
action with her left shoulder strap, letting it fall onto her upper arm.  
  
Mom has half turned her head to watch me. No longer grumpy, she is smiling,
quietly amused at the little monkey leaping around and denuding her. I can't
resist leaning in and kissing her lightly on her plush upper lip, which just
makes her smile even more broadly, flashing me a little teeth.  
  
With a nod, I sit down on Mom's shoulder and slide down her collarbone and
onto the upper part of her left tit. Using my legs and then arms, I push the
huge cup free of her breast, then slip off the slope of her boob and land
lightly on her belly. I scramble, turn around, and continue to remove the bra
from her breast. It comes reluctantly, and I realize I have to get the other
one going before I can get the whole thing off. I step across Mom's ribs, and
grab the underside of the right cup. Lifting and pulling, I soon have it free.
I now reach for the center of the bra and give a few strong tugs. Mom assists
with a shrug of her shoulders, which sets her boobs to jiggling, but also
loosens the straps and allows me to remove her bra completely. I lift it up
over my head and toss it off the side of the couch.  
  
I am once again face to face with Mom's magnificent breasts. Each one full and
firm, and nearly as large as my entire body. Her areolas are flushed, nipples
hardened. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath, and I can smell the
lotion she rubs into her skin. I'm glad it's not baby powder – I'm not sure I
could take that scent right now. Whatever it is, it's sweet and clean and
fruity.  
  
I can't resist closing in, choosing her right breast for a hug that wraps my
whole body around it. Her nipple nudges up against my stomach, and my engorged
cock leaves trails of precum on her pale, soft flesh.  
  
Mom unceremoniously plucks me from her tit, pulling me off it and depositing
me on her belly while she reclines backward on the couch. "You're not done
yet," she says.  
  
I look down the sweep of Mom's belly at the sensible white panties she is
wearing. They hug her hips and cup her sex. I can see a wet spot dampening the
front.  
  
I slide off Mom's flank and onto the couch. I slip my fingers under the edge
of the fabric on her hips and tug it down. I have to leap across her, back and
forth, to inch the panties off her hips. As the bottom edge starts to bunch up
against her ass, she lifts up a little bit, balancing on hands and feet, legs
spread. I tug and pull, and pull and tug, but the leverage just isn't there.
Mom's plush ass is just too full and springy.  
  
With a resigned sigh, I wave my hand to catch Mom's attention before sliding
underneath her like a mechanic working on a car. I am all too aware of her
immense weight hovering over me as I shimmy across the couch cushion and grab
at the bunched up fabric near the top of her crack. I give it a sharp tug and
it finally comes free, sliding across Mom's skin and almost snapping me in the
face.  
  
Mom's cheeks kind of bounce over my head, and I get lost in admiring her
perfect pulchritude for a few moments. I'm brought back to reality by Mom's
voice. "Robbie? What are you doing down there, honey?"  
  
I roll out from underneath her, and as soon as I am free Mom lowers herself
down. Her naked ass settles into the cushion, and I suppress a shudder. The
worse thing is that my cock is inexplicably harder, as if contemplating my own
messy death excites it.  

I shake it off. I can smell Mom's juices, a sweet and pungent perfume that
focuses my mind on my task. I bounce up on my feet and leap between Mom's
slightly spread legs. Her sumptuous thighs rise like walls on either side of
me, and the tent of her panties still covers her pussy. I clamber up on her
thighs this time, gradually working the panties downward. I don't rest until
the damp spot peels away with a slight sucking sound, accompanied by a sharp
indrawn breath from Mom.  
  
I look up at her with a grin, breathing heavy through my nose. My muscles are
burning, stretched out, feeling good. I'm ready for a real workout.  
  
So is Mom, apparently. She shifts on the couch, lifting both legs up. This
knocks me from my perch, and I roll into her lap. Mom sweeps her panties off
her long, long legs and tosses them aside.  
  
"Such impatience," I gasp.  
  
Mom gives a dainty shrug. "You're fun to watch, but you're taking too long."
She sweeps me up in both hands and brings me to her lips. First she kisses my
belly, pressing her full lips against my rockhard abs. Next she drags her
tongue across my entire body, starting at my feet and slurping across my
ankles, thighs, crotch, abdomen, chest and head.  
  
"Mmmm, salty," she says. "You worked up quite a sweat, little man. You're not
thinking of taking a break, are you?"  
  
"No, ma'am," I say, cradled in her palms. I give my cock a flex, causing it to
jump between my legs and snap a long drizzle of precum outward, spiraling
towards Mom and eventually splattering against her collarbone far below.  
  
Mom smiles broadly. "That's good," she says, almost purring. Her eyes narrow
mischievously. "Well, you've captured your giantess. You've undressed her.
What do you intend to do next?"  
  
"Time for the ravishing," I declare.  
  
Mom's eyes widen. "That sounds... exciting. How do you intend to do that?"  
  
I smile. I wedge myself up onto my feet, balancing myself awkwardly in Mom's
palms. Her arms shiver as she tries to create a suitable platform for me and
not let me tip over. I leap off of her hands, causing her to loose a "whoof,"
sound of surprise, and land lightly on the couch cushion on her right flank.
Above me towers her massive boobs, and to my own right her hip curves out,
almost to the edge of the couch.  
  
I clamber up Mom's arm, using her side and boob for leverage, and clamber up
onto her collarbone. I blow her a kiss and slip down onto her right breast. My
body is slick with sweat and Mom's saliva, and I slither around on her tit,
losing my grip and slipping into her cleavage.  
  
"Ho ho ho," Mom booms, trying to be funny. She squeezes her tits together,
trapping me between them in a prison of soft, succulent flesh. Laid out on my
back in her cleavage, I wiggle and scoot my way across her breastbone until I
can get my head and shoulders to peek out the top. I wedge my arms free and
brace them along the top of Mom's breasts. She looks down at me, and I crane
my neck to look up past her chin and nose and try to catch a gray eye.  
  
Mom's full lips twist into a smirk as she starts to lift and lower her massive
tits, sliding them across my body, rubbing me down, squeezing me gently and
insistently. She is titfucking my entire body. My cock nudges against her
cleavage, leaving trails of precum. I see Mom's large hands kneading her
breastflesh, her fingers caressing and teasing her big, hard, pink nipples.
Her tits ripple and jiggle and shake around me, and I bounce between them
uncontrollably. My hips jerk backward and forward, driving my cock into her
breasts and between them. The angry cockhead peaks out from her cleavage,
spraying precum, slickening her flesh.  
  
Mom moans, a rumbling sound in her chest that vibrates against my back and
shakes my whole body. Beneath me, her butt presses into the couch cushion and
her thighs rub together.  
  
"I want to see you cum between my tits," Mom says breathily, huskily, and it's
as good as a command. The next moment cum is racing up through my distended
cock, erupting from the tip and spraying in ribbons across Mom's breasts. Her
pale skin is painted white by the titanic volume of my eruption. She keeps
squeezing me with her tits the entire time I am cumming, constant insistent
encouragement. Almost as much covers her breasts as ends up slickening her
cleavage and spraying across my chest.  
  
Finally when my cock stops shuddering and spurting, Mom lets her tits fall
away from me. Her fingers swipe across the puddles and feed jizz into her
lips. She grabs my legs and pulls me down through her cleavage, which serves
to add another layer of frosting to my skin. When I'm dragged free she lifts
me up by both legs, letting me hang upside down over her breasts.  
  
Blood rushes to my head as Mom carries me over to her mouth and proceeds to
lick and kiss the cream from my body. My dick bobs between my legs, the weight
and curve of it almost pinning it to my chest, letting the mushroom tip point
at my head. This is not altogether pleasing, although Mom's lips and tongue
caressing my every inch helps to distract me. I'm also getting lightheaded
hanging upside down like this.  
  
When I am sufficiently clean in Mom's estimation, she slips my cock between
her lips and gives me an upside down blowjob. I grab her chin with both arms
and brace myself against it as I thrust my hips into her mouth, driving my
cock between her lips. Her agile tongue tip teases and flicks my cockhead as
it drives between her lips. Warmth and moisture wash over me. Saliva and other
fluids slip under her lower lip and pool against my abdomen.  
  
Mom's hand pins me against her face, keeping my hips from moving, her palm all
but squashing my butt, her nose splitting my legs apart, breath cooling my
balls. Her lips and tongue assault my engorged cock, and before long I am
exploding again, spraying ribbon after ribbon of goo into her mouth. She
swallows greedily. I watch her throat work.  
  
Mom sets me free with another lash of her tongue against my ever hard cock.
She carefully turns me around in her palms. Vertigo assails me. Head spinning,
blood swirling around my compressed frame back to where it should be flowing.
I blink, breathing hard, and the world goes out of focus for a few moments.  
  
"You okay?" Mom asks sincerely.  
  
I shake the fog from my head, give her a thumb's up.  
  
She sets me down on her sticky, blueberry scented breasts and examines me
closely. "I'm fine," I say, "just a little light headed."  
  
"You're red in the face," she says, "and not in a good way."  
  
"I'll be okay in a sec." The world slowly returns to normal, or as normal as
it can be when you're just shy of nine inches tall.  
  
Mom still looks concerned, but she brightens when I clamber to my feet in her
cleavage and begin walking down her belly towards nirvana. "Are you sure
you're okay?" she asks. I offer a desultory wave.  
  
Mom spreads her legs wider, hooking one over the top of the couch and setting
the other on the floor. I drop down on hands and knees when I hit her belly
button and crawl the rest of the way, dragging my cockhead across her skin and
leaving a shiny trail of slime behind me. Mom pats my ass cheeks with a
finger, not harshly, but in an encouraging way.  
  
I crawl through the fur of her neatly trimmed bush and approach the apex of
her pussy. She is wet and open, glistening with fluid, lips flushed a coral
pink. Her clit peeks out from under its hood. Mom can't resist giving herself
a swipe, dragging two fingers through her folds and thwacking her clit with
her thumb in what appears to be a practiced gesture. My dick throbs in
response and releases another hefty glob of precum.  
  
On my knees, I balance atop Mom's pubis and slide my hands forward, reaching
out to caress and rub her sopping labial lips. Her juices coat my hands and
forearms quickly, as I knead and push and rub. Her clit hovers underneath my
chest. I crane my neck over the shelf of her pubis and survey her steaming
gash. Its beautiful, pink, and delicious looking. Were I full size I would
dive in and drive her mad with lips and teeth and tongue, but I'll have to
make do with my whole body.  
  
I contort my body, getting my legs underneath me in a semi-uncomfortable
crouch, and balance myself with one hand. With the other, slick with Mom's
precoital fluids, I grab my huge cock and aim it at Mom's clitoris. I drag my
cock over her little nubbin, whack it a little with the head, saw my dick
along her clit as if fucking it. My precum mixes with her juices, creating a
frothy, pungent mixture.  
  
Mom shudders around me, under me, and I hear her breath hitching. The muscles
in her thighs bunch up. She kicks her feet out and raises both legs halfway
into the air. Mom cries out as her orgasm crests. Her pussy floods with
juices, and I start cumming as well, spraying a volatile flood of sperm onto
her clit and pussy and thighs. I rise quickly and turn around, sending a spray
of jism onto her hip before aiming the rest of my eruption onto her belly.  
  
Mom's hands sweep around me, rubbing my cum into her skin. They caress her
thighs, her pussy, her belly. She brings dripping fingers to her lips and
cleans them greedily. Lust glazed eyes look down at me through a fringe of
dark hair that hangs over her forehead.  
  
Her hands, slick with my cum and her vaginal fluids, wrap around me and lift
me up off my feet. "Fee fi fo fum," she says, "now I'm gonna fuck my son." She
laughs at her little joke, a sexy little laugh, but I don't think it's that
funny. Mom spins me around in her hands so that my head is pointed at her
pussy.  
  
That doesn't fill me with confidence. At the same time, with my arms and legs
pinned, as well as my cock trapped under her hands, I can't really do anything
about it. Still, my cock throbs under her fingers, hard and eager.  
  
"Deep breath, baby," Mom says. I plunge toward her huge, warm, wet, vagina. I
suck in a long, shuddering breath as I draw near, knowing that if I protest
this, I'll miss my chance to get much needed oxygen. I think of swim practice
in high school, and just hope she doesn't leave me in there too long.  
  
Then suddenly everything is dark and pink and wet. Her folds envelop me, cling
to me, caress me. Mom constricts her pussy around my body. Despite myself, I
have to admit it feels incredible. Her juices are warm and thick, coating my
skin, covering my face and chest and arms.  
  
From the waist down I feel the cool draught of air outside for just a moment,
but then Mom grips my thighs and pushes me further in. Her walls tighten
around me as I probe further into her moist depths. I can feel and hear her
heartbeat, as well as a sort of rumbling that must be her crying out in
ecstasy.  
  
I kick my calves and feet, which causes my thighs and hips to slam against her
inner walls. My lungs burn. I need to breathe. I stretch my arms out as far as
I can, pressing against her pink folds. She's slippery and pliant, stretching
to accommodate my every move, but rebounding against me as well, tightening
around me.  
  
My heart pounds. Just when I think I'll have to expel the deoxygenated air in
my lungs and breathe in a gallon of pussy juice, I am swept back out into the
cold glow of the television. I splutter and spit Mom's slick fluids, taking
gasping, heaving breaths.  
  
"Deep breath and hold it," Mom commands. There's an edge of lust in her voice
that suggests she's losing it. As if trying to asphyxiate me in her vagina
wasn't enough of a clue. Again I forego protesting to take a deep breath, and
dive once more into her coral sea. I'm not sure why I keep my mouth shut. I
must be enjoying this on some level, being dominated and used, which tells me
things about my personality I'd rather not know.  
  
I thrust my arms and knees and thighs against Mom's inner walls. They push
back against me. The heat and the scent are nearly overwhelming. I'm not
breathing, but her fluids are on my lips and nostrils and in my mouth, and
tasting is the same as smelling. Sweet, salty, light as sea foam and thick as
molasses, a mix of contradictive elements that make it perfect and
intoxicating. My head swims, and not simply from lack of oxygen.  
  
Mom shakes and shudders around me, her pussy tightening even more. She's
close, I know it. But there are lights flickering in front of my eyes. My
lungs feel like they're on fire. And I really don't want to pass out again –
especially now, when Mom might not notice right away.  
  
So when I am swept free from her clutching pussy into the open air, and she
gives me another "Deep breath, baby," I exhale all the dead air in my lungs
and suck in a quick, sharp breath that gives me just enough air to shout "Mom!
Stop!"  
  
I'm plunging towards her wide open gash as I shout desperately, and my tiny,
tinny voice must be barely audible over the blood rushing through Mom's
temples. But I freeze in mid-air, arms held out as if to ward off the dive
inside her.  
  
She sweeps me up to her face. I am dripping and spluttering, but each breath
tastes sweeter than chocolate and raspberries. "You okay, Robbie?" she asks.  
  
"Yeah," I say. I can't see her, as my eyes are webbed shut with the vaginal
fluids coating my head and face. "Hard... to... breathe," I manage between
gasps. "But fun!" I quickly add.  
  
Mom sighs. "Sorry, baby. I guess I got carried away again." The world shifts
as I feel her bring me closer to her face. Her breath washes over me, cooling
my wet body. Mom proceeds to lick me clean with her agile tongue, carefully
removing her own fluids from every inch of my body. She sucks each of my limbs
into her mouth, stretching my tired muscles in the process and giving me a
moist massage with her tongue. She even sucks the top of my head between her
lips. I press my hands against their plush pink softness to keep my head
attached to my shoulders, while she hoovers the goo out of my hair.  
  
She saves my rampant member for last, and given the preamble, it only takes
the lightest of suction from her to set me off. Streamers of cum spray into
her waiting mouth. She parts her lips, opening her mouth, and lets me aim my
rod to send my spray across her tongue, teeth and gums. A thick white pool
forms quickly, which she swallows greedily, happily.  
  
Mom holds me up and out from her body. "Feel better?"  
  
"Yeah. Breathing is always good."  
  
"All those years on the swim team, I thought you'd be better at holding your
breath," she says with a warm smile. The smile falters. "But I am sorry. I
didn't mean to hurt you."  
  
"I know, Mom. You just got to remember to be careful."  
  
"You're right, you're right. You just make me lose control, Robbie. Worse than
anyone."  
  
I smile. "Who can complain about that?"  
  
Mom's lips quirk a bit. "So... I was building to a pretty big one there. Would
you mind if we...?"  
  
"Feet first?" I ask. She nods, holding up two fingers. "I'm all yours," I
assure her.  
  
"Yes," she says, "you are." I descend rapidly, carried between her hands to
the paradise between her legs. She straightens my body, aims me, and I sink up
to my ankles into her pussy. Slowly she dips me further, swallowing me whole,
until one arm and most of my chest are sealed within. I flail with my limbs,
while Mom alternates between letting me slide out to my waist and pressing my
shoulders with her fingers to drive me back inside.  
  
Heat and moisture and her scent envelop me again, but the ability to breathe
makes it all much, much more enjoyable for me. I fuck Mom with my whole body,
now using a dolphin kick, now a frog kick, now freestyle. She wails somewhere
far above me, hips bucking, pussy lips tightening around my chest, inner walls
closing in and caressing me. I am inundated in her juices, basted and baked,
and my own orgasm fires off deep within her, sending my sperm spiraling into
her soft pink depths.  
  
When the earthquake subsides, she pulls me free of her pussy with a squelching
sound and lays me, battered and exhausted, between her mountainous breasts.
Our combined fluids slough off my body and drip onto her flawless skin. Her
chest rises and falls, rises and falls, as her heavy breathing begins to slow.  
  
"By the goddess," Mom mumbles, "it will be hard to give this up."  
  
I start a little. A sudden irrational fear blossoms in the back of my head.
Mom could keep me this height if she wanted to – I'm entirely dependent on her
for nourishment. She could sneak a potion or hex into my food quite easily.
But would she? I don't think so, which is why the fear is irrational. Right?  
  
I crane my neck, looking up and seeing little but chin, with her head thrown
back. "Mom? You are going to give this up, though, right?"  
  
Mom turns her head, squinting one eye to look down at me sandwiched between
her tits. "Yes, of course, honey. Why would I do otherwise?"  
  
I turn red, embarrassed at admitting I'm afraid. "I don't know. I just... I
mean, don't get me wrong, I'm having fun giving the situation, but..."  
  
"I understand baby. You won't be this size much longer. It's already been
almost two days. There can't be much left for you to, um, to endure."  
  
I sigh. "I'm not 'enduring' anything, Mom. But I am trapped like this, even if
temporarily." I slowly clamber upright, using Mom's breasts to steady myself
on my slickened feet. "But I can't imagine being trapped like this with anyone
else. I feel safe with you, and loved. I know you won't do anything
consciously to harm me, and I know you're doing your best to make this whole
situation as fun as possible." I laugh. "Even if by doing so, you're making it
even more fucked up."  
  
Mom laughs a little too. But I can see she's also a little hurt. There's not
much I can do about that. I'm being entirely honest. Giant woman is one thing,
incest another. Combine the two?  
  
"Thank you, Robbie," Mom says. "I do want you to be okay. You'll be back to
normal soon. Until then, I'll look after you." She picks me up to give me a
chaste kiss against my abdomen.  
  
But her lips turn up into a sultry tilt. "And drain you dry every chance I
get," she adds, giving my diamond hard cock a slurp between her lips which
cleans off cum, precum, and vaginal fluids. Before I know it, I'm fucking her
face again, dumping another in a seemingly endless series of loads into her
mouth.  
  
13.  
  
We settle down to watch television for a while, me sitting contentedly between
Mom's mountainous breasts. It isn't long before I notice Mom's breathing
becoming deep and regular, but not until she is gently snoring do I look up.
She's definitely out. No wonder, as it's been an emotionally and physically
draining day.  
  
I look around, wishing I could find a blanket or something to throw over her.
I know there are some in the closet between the living room and kitchen, but
there's no way at my present height that I could open the door, wrestle the
blanket out, and drag it across the room, let alone drape it over her.  
  
So I try waking her, to no avail. She might have been lightly dozing before,
but now she's completely out of it. I lean back against one of Mom's soft,
firm tits and contemplate my next move. Staying here with her would be unwise,
as she has pointed out a few times. Likewise, I don't want to return to her
bedroom, in case she wakes up and heads to bed. In the dark, with me
unconscious, she might accidentally crush me.  
  
Guess I'm spending the night in my room. Don't know why that depresses me so
much – it is my room, after all. I give Mom one last peck on her full lips
that she barely feels and slip off of her body, half-hoping that she'll wake
up as I do. But she remains asleep, and I make my way upstairs on rubber band
legs by myself.  
  
The second floor is dark, but for a low light Mom left on in her room.
Luckily, my bedroom door is still open, and there's just enough ambient light
coming through the window that I can navigate my way to the bed. I walk
through a battleground strewn with Mom's castoff clothes, and I pause a few
times to admire the feel and smell of her nightdresses, bras, and panties.  

Finally I leap up onto the bed and clamber up onto the stacked pillows. Only a
few hours ago, this was the site of the most debauched sexual adventure of my
life. Its difficult not to think about her as I lie back, naked, uncovered, on
the pillow and try to fall asleep. Absently I stroke my erection, but I'm all
too aware that I have nowhere to safely unload. As it is, I'll probably wake
up in a wet patch.  
  
I can't wait for this to be over. At the same time... in the deepest, darkest,
most twisted and perverse corner of my heart, this experience is amazing and
fun. I've discovered fetishes I didn't even know I had. I mean, I am actually
kind of enjoying the incest thing. And the size difference between us – I've
always been a tit man, and Mom's tits are easily the biggest I've ever seen.
The biggest anyone has ever seen.  
  
And the feel of her, the scent of her, what it's like to be inside her,
completely inside her... before long I roll over and send my spew jettisoning
off the edge of the pillow to splatter on the comforter below. My dick is
still hard. I can't help sighing.  
  
I roll over on to my back and stare at the ceiling. Sleep comes eventually,
but it takes some time.  
  
Slowly my eyes open. I am lying on the couch in the living room. Warm sunlight
drifts into the room through the big bay windows. I am nude, and full-sized,
but the silly extra large cock towers from my crotch, erect and angry and
leaking precum. I sit up uncertainly, at first wondering how I ended up here
and why I'm tall again. The word "dream" echoes in the back of my mind, and I
relax slightly. But only slightly.  
  
I look around. Everything looks odd, slightly weird, as if the interior of the
house had been stolen and replaced with exact copies.  
  
"Mom?" I say out loud. I glance at the bay windows, half expecting a gigantic
gray eye to be peering back at me.  
  
"Down here!" comes a shout at my ankle, high-pitched and feminine. I lean over
and see a miniature Mom standing beside the coffee table, looking up at me.  
  
She's about nine inches tall, shorter than a Barbie doll but just as
ridiculously proportioned. She is naked, long dark hair spilling down her
shoulders, big tits thrust out, long silky legs slightly parted, hands on
hips. She is also, I can't help comparing, shorter than my cock.  
  
I can't resist reaching down to grab Mom. She squawks in protest as I sweep
her up to chest level. She's warm in my hand, soft and wriggling, and I almost
let her drop. She scoots her ass into my palm and grabs my thumbs, bracing
herself. "Whoah," she says. "Vertigo like you'd never believe."  
  
"What happened?" I ask.  
  
"You mean why are you big and why am I little?" I nod. "Best guess is that
this is another dream. Um, probably mine this time." She looks down at my
cock, the head of which brushes my sternum. A huge dollop of glistening precum
emerges from the slit and begins the long journey across the swollen head and
down the enormous length. Mom swallows, blinking, breathing heavily.  
  
She can't resist dropping a hand to her crotch, but I quickly pull it out of
the way with one finger. She looks up at me, ready to reprimand, and I say,
"Uh uh uh. Shoe's on the other foot, Mom. I'm calling the shots." She thinks
about this for a moment, eventually smiling. "Besides," I add, "this thing
could drown you."  
  
"Good point," she admits. She gives my cock a hungry look. "But what a way to
go..."  
  
I think a moment. "Hmmm. Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?"  
  
Mom looks at me funny. "Why do I assume my son should know the answer to that?
Nevermind. Look under the sink. I think I know what you mean."  
  
Carrying Mom, I head into the kitchen. Under the sink are bottles of cleaning
fluid, sponges, and a plastic bucket for mopping. It's clean, so I pull it out
and step into the middle of the kitchen. The weight of my cock pulls it away
from my chest when I stand. It's almost perpendicular to my body. My swollen
balls ache.  
  
With a grin, I set Mom down on my distended cock, sitting right at the base.
She sits astride it like a horse, legs spread, her tiny pussy dripping onto my
hot, hard flesh. She steadies herself with her palms, throws a look of
gratitude mixed with lust over her shoulder at me, and leans forward. Her
plush tits press into my cock and her arms and legs wrap around my length, or
at least as far around as she can reach.  
  
Mom starts humping my cock, thrusting her hips against me, squeezing me with
her arms. My skin is so sensitive I can feel the moisture dripping from her
pussy, as well as the moisture from her tongue as she drags it across my
length.  
  
Mom hunches her way up my length, dragging her body towards the angry purple
cockhead at the far end. I grip the base of my dick and give it a little
shake. Mom tightens her grip – but I have my other hand ready to catch her if
I need to. She throws another look over her shoulder, this one less amused.
But her face twists in pleasure as I slowly extend my thumb between her legs,
pressing the pad of my digit against her tiny pussy.  
  
Mom grips my cock and thrusts back against my thumb. It's too wide to enter
her, but she's so slick and dilated that it might actually fit. Mom thrashes,
her little body twisting and contorting on my cock, against my thumb. She
cries out, a piercing wail.  
  
Our link still works in the dream. As her orgasm crests, my first one is
triggered as well. Beneath Mom, my massive organ flexes, throbs, and bucks. I
have to grab the head of my cock and aim it as the cum thunders up from the
base and erupts. Still I'm not quite fast enough. The first ribbon flies
across the kitchen floor and splatters the kitchen table. My next rope
splatters dully into the bucket, and I keep it aimed as I empty myself
utterly. Thick, viscous goo fills the bucket, warm and milky.  
  
Mom's orgasm doesn't really end. "I can feel you cumming," she wails,
clutching my erupting organ as tightly as she can, riding it like a bucking
bronco. Her extended orgasm extends mine, almost painfully. Cum sloshes in the
bucket, rising almost to the rim. Eventually the flood subsides, and I am
momentarily empty, but my cock continues to throb and shudder. I have to peel
Mom off my cock to get her to calm down, so that I can too.  
  
She's a shuddering, sopping, wailing mess in my palms. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh
fuck," she keeps repeating, shaking in my hands. My cock droops, deflated, and
slowly Mom comes back to herself. She looks up at me face and body a rosy
color, thighs stained with her juices.  
  
I smile wickedly. "Deep breath, Mom," I say. Her eyes widen in sudden
comprehension as I drop her into the bucket. She plummets about a foot and a
half – I'm not that cruel – and lands with a splash. Mom sinks beneath the
surface for a few seconds. Suddenly I'm worried that I might have to reach
down and pull her out, but just as I bend down on one knee and reach toward
the bucket, Mom surfaces, spluttering, hair slicked back, cum streaming down
her cheeks and lips and neck.  
  
"It's so thick, it's like treading water in heavy cream. Jesus Christ, Robbie,
this is insane."  
  
The smell of blueberries is all but overpowering, but the sheer volume of
semen ensures there's a bit of a briny smell as well. I wrinkle my nose in
distaste, but my dick is starting to stiffen anyway. Probably due to Mom's own
arousal.  
  
Mom kicks with her legs and uses cum smeared hands to wipe her eyes clean and
sweep jizz out of her hair. She smiles at me, a wide, gooey smile. Her body
shudders suddenly, as she is swept up in a mini-orgasm. My cock rises rampant
between my legs in response. Mom cries out and slips beneath the surface
again. I see bubbles.  
  
Without thinking I jam my hand into the bucket and grope for her. My fingers
wrap around her in seconds and I pull her free from the morass with a slurping
sound. Mom coughs weakly and expels a huge dollop of semen from her mouth. My
hand and wrist are coated in the stuff, but I don't have time to be disgusted.  
  
With my free hand I wipe Mom clean, pulling strands of cum off of her dainty
body. I get her face clear quickly. Mom coughs. "Well," she says eventually,
"you'd think that in a dream, I'd be able to swim through that without
drowning." She looks up at me. "Just sitting in that pool made me cum, and I
stopped swimming in place, just sank. Thanks, baby."  
  
"No problem, Mom." Despite the situation, my dick is huge and weighty again.
"We should clean you up. Upstairs or downstairs sink?"  
  
Mom gives me a look. "This is a dream, Robbie. Normal rules don't apply." And
just like that, she is clean and dry, without a trace of goo on her. My hands
are clean as well. And in fact, I realize we aren't in the kitchen any longer.  
  
We're in the backyard, but not the actual backyard with Mom's herb garden and
the clothesline and the picnic table, but the dream backyard, with the big
pool and the high fence. Curiously, the pool has no water in it. And its
Olympic sized, which means a few of the neighbor's houses have disappeared
with the expansion of the yard.  
  
I'm crouching on the deck, in the same posture I held in the kitchen, with Mom
in my hands. Slowly I stand up. Mom scampers to her feet in my palms. She
crosses her arms in front of her breasts and does a quick nod of her head that
causes her dark hair to swirl around her. She's doing the other one now; not
the witch, but the genie. I expect to see Mom jump up several dress sizes, but
instead she dwindles in my palm. I look around in alarm, realizing that she's
making me grow this time. All around me the world shrinks. My head swims with
sudden vertigo, but somehow I keep Mom in my hands.  
  
The house drops out of view as the neighborhood expands beneath me. My vantage
point changes second by second. In only moments, I have swelled to an
impressive fifty foot height. My horsecock extends out from my crotch almost a
third of my height – about fifteen feet from base to angry tip. This is
getting ridiculous.  
  
Mom swells in my palm, shooting up to her regular height, which means she's
still pretty tiny.  
  
"I want a proper swim," she says. "I want you to fill the pool."  
  
I shrug. All in a day's work, I suppose. The expected crowd doesn't
materialize to gawk and stare; maybe they all moved away after the last dream.
I look down at Mom, sitting in my palm with an expectant look in her eyes.  
  
I bring her up to my face and stick my tongue out at her. Mom laughs. "Be
careful – I'm ticklish," she says, but I ignore her plea, lashing at her plush
little body with my moist tongue. Mom squirms, at first laughing and trying
ineffectually to fend off my tongue, but gradually beginning to moan and
thrust her hips. I lick her full breasts, her sweetly rounded belly, her lean
arms and long legs. I suck each foot into my mouth and lick her toes. I plant
a kiss on each tiny breast, her belly, and between her legs. I spread her
legs, bringing her crotch to my lips, and begin to assault her sopping wet
pussy.  
  
As I do, I feel huge phantom hands begin to sweep along the log-like length of
my distended cock. My tongue is too big and clumsy to enter Mom, but licking
her with the tip seems to be doing the trick, as she starts to cry out and
shudder in my palm, arching her back and forcing her hips against my mouth.  
  
I feel the familiar tingle at the base of my foreign cock, and grip it with
one hand. I aim the hose at the pool and let it unload. Streamer after
streamer explodes from my cock, showering the yard, spraying everywhere. A
ribbon of jizz hammers the house next door, shattering windows and knocking in
a wall. Most of it ends up in the pool, which gradually begins to fill. I keep
teasing Mom's lips with my tongue, driving her mad, extending her orgasm, and
my own continues unabated.  
  
Finally, the huge pool is filled appreciably, and my flood subsides. I squeeze
out the last few droplets on the deck, where they make slippery puddles.  
  
Both of us are gasping and breathing heavily. I set Mom down on the deck. She
smiles at me, glowing, her breasts heaving and her knees almost buckling. I
feel a little weak kneed myself, and decide to settle down on my haunches.  
  
Mom waits until I'm seated before taking a running dive, slicing into the pool
of cum gracefully. She swims around, from one end to the other, splashing
around, having a grand time. In the shallow end she shudders her way through
three more orgasms, rubbing cum soaked thighs together while sheets of jizz
pour down her chest and back, coat her ass, make her hair and face sticky. The
first one brings me erect again, and I have to aim myself into the street for
the second two, creating a river of bodily fluids that that laps at cars and
driveways, eventually flowing viscously into the sewers.  
  
When I turn around, Mom climbs out of the pool. Rivers of cum flow off her
body, dripping from her hair, her breasts, her stomach, her legs. She shakes,
sending gooey droplets soaring through the air. She crosses slickened arms and
nods her head quickly, and is suddenly clean and unmarked. Another nod and she
doubles in size, growing rapidly until she matches my own height.  
  
Normally, she's a few inches shorter than me, but she looks me in the eye
right now. She's gorgeous. Long dark hair swirling around her shoulders, huge
gravity defying breasts, narrow waist, broad hips, long luscious legs, neatly
trimmed coral pink pussy. With her gigantic as me, this is a little too much
like seeing Mom naked at normal size, and that's actually kind of weird. It's
as though the difference in height allowed my brain to rationalize the whole
incest angle a bit. She's not my Mom; she's a giantess, a goddess, that sort
of thing.  
  
But there she is looking me in the eye with a saucy glint and a sexy smirk,
and there's no denying that this is my mother. The woman who gave birth to me,
raised me, nursed my hurts, celebrated my victories, made me dinner, washed my
clothes, and loved me. The weirdest thing is that I still really want to fuck
her.  
  
Mom walks around the house towards me. She opens her arms and I take her into
a tight embrace. My cock is sandwiched between us, the head nudging up against
the underside of her right breast. Mom kisses me fiercely, her tongue
thrusting in my mouth to wrestle with my own. I surprise myself a little by
kissing her back, just as hard and just as eager.  
  
My hands caress her back, gliding down across her smooth flesh to cup and
knead the globes of her ass. Mom moans into my mouth. She reaches between us
to grip my rampant tool, slick with cum and precum. Her fingers slide up and
down its length.  
  
She breaks away from my kiss. "You're going to fuck Mommy," she says
breathlessly, "and you're going to fuck the neighborhood when you do. Later,
maybe, we'll fuck the whole city."  
  
She does the quick nod thing and the world swims again. Both of us grow as the
world dwindles around us. A hundred feet tall, two hundred, three hundred.
Houses are crushed to kindling beneath our expanding feet. The street buckles.
Car alarms shrill.  
  
Mom looks like she might nod again, but I put my hands on her shoulders and
gently push. She smirks, and slowly kneels. Her hands are busy sweeping up and
down my cock. Its length is about a quarter of my overall height. Fifty feet
long. Ridiculous doesn't begin to describe it. Mom's lips join her hands as
they run up and down my length. She kisses my cock, lightly at first, then
stronger, until she is sucking the mammoth head into her mouth and slurping at
the precum oozing from it.  
  
I admire the view. I cast my gaze about at the tiny neighborhood and equally
tiny city that sprawls at our feet. It looks curiously empty, for all the
little houses and miniature cars and trees and roads. I'd expect a crowd of
people watching the giants fuck, but there's no one. No one even fleeing.  
  
"Where is everyone?" I ask.  
  
Mom slurps, releases me from between her lips. "I sent them away. It's just a
dream, but I don't want to hurt anyone even in a dream. Property, on the other
hand...?" She lets go of my cock and curls backward, lying down. Houses crunch
beneath her back, ass, and legs. She spans several blocks, and her long dark
hair spills across a main thoroughfare. Strands tangle in a garish fast food
joint's sign.  
  
Mom spreads her legs and beckons to me. I kneel down between her legs and aim
my monstrous cock at her moist, pink gash. My glans nudges her lips open and I
slide into her pussy in one smooth movement. She is tight and warm and
wonderful, stretching to accommodate my girth. Mom fucks back at me with her
hips, and I start to pound her. The earth beneath us literally moves.
Buildings collapse. Streets crack open. Miniature explosions blossom as gas
mains rupture and power lines collapse.  
  
Mom's legs wrap around my waist and she throws her weight against me. We roll
over, entwined, and I feel houses and buildings crunch beneath my back. Mom
straddles me, riding me to orgasm as we destroy the city around us. I grab her
huge, bouncing tits with both hands and knead them, enjoying their heft and
softness.  
  
Mom slams her pelvis down into mine and lets loose a roar that shatters
windows for miles and miles. I crest along with her, jettisoning rivers of cum
into her heated depths. Under my back, the earth cracks open, grinding and
rumbling.  
  
When I open my eyes, I am lying on a pillow in my bedroom, on my side. My cock
is deflated, but there's a puddle of cum cooling on the side of the pillow.
With a grunt, I drag myself to my feet and find another part of the bed to
curl my tired body upon. I feel sleep overtake me once more, hoping that I'll
be able to dream alone, or better yet, not dream at all.  
  
14.  
  
Sunlight streams through the blinds into my room when I awake. I am still
tiny, still horny, which is getting old. When does this stupid hex end? When
does my life get back to normal? How many more days of debauchery do I have to
look forward to? And why am I so ambivalent about them?  
  
As a young guy, this should be some kind of dream come true. To be used as a
beautiful woman's sex toy, no strings attached, would be the secret hope of
most guys my age. But the fact that the beautiful woman in question is my
mother, and the fact that I'm stuck at the approximate height of nine inches,
tends to sour my overall enjoyment. I go back and forth on the experience
almost by the second. And I'm worried that the "forth" part, where I'm excited
and enjoying myself, is purely the result of the spell involved. While my
disquiet and reservations are my true feelings. Even after the talk Mom and I
had yesterday, I feel uncertain, unbalanced, unnatural.  
  
I sigh, loudly, to no one in particular.  
  
At least my dreams last night weren't as disturbing as the night before.  
  
"Robbie?" I hear my mother call my name. She must be awake too, and wondering
where I am. Without thinking, I call back to her, but immediately smile in
chagrin. My tiny voice isn't going to carry all the way to the first floor. I
clamber to my feet, bounce off the bed, and hurry down the hall.  
  
Mom is halfway up the steps when I reach them. Her lush body is wrapped
loosely in a blanket, but otherwise she appears naked, her hair disheveled,
makeup marred, looking disoriented and concerned.  
  
"There you are!" she says when I appear. She scampers up the steps, almost
tripping on the edge of the blanket, and scoops me up with her free hand, the
other one holding the blanket closed around her. She brings me close to her
breast, pushing me against their plushness. I can hear and feel the beat of
her heart, pounding now but beginning to slow. "When I woke up and didn't see
you, I panicked. I was worried something happened to you."  
  
"I'm okay, Mom," I say. "I went up to my room to sleep. I wished we could have
cuddled, but after all your warnings, I figured I should find somewhere else
to rest."  

She nods. "That makes sense." She blinks, suddenly teary eyed. "Oh, the things
that go through your head when you're not quite awake, and worried about your
boy." She kisses me chastely on the top of my head, and hugs me close, splayed
against her breasts. My dick, heretofore at half-mast, quickly begins to
harden and lengthen.  
  
Mom chuckles, feeling my hardness press against her sternum. "And I see
everything is in working order." Mom hitches up her makeshift skirt and begins
to carry me toward her bedroom.  
  
"So far, so good," I say. I can't resist wiggling my hips a little, rubbing my
length against her skin. Once again, all the doubts and concerns that plague
me when I am alone have fled when I am in close proximity to her. She drives
me crazy, and whether I like it or not, my body wants her. Needs her, even. Is
it the hex? Some dark corner of my psyche? Who can say. At this point, in this
moment, I'm not sure I care.  
  
In the bedroom, Mom sweeps the blanket off and throws it to the floor. As I
suspected, she is naked beneath. Gloriously naked, just as I left her the
night before. I don't know why I ever thought I would get tired of admiring
her incredible body, especially at her amazing size. Those huge tits, those
long legs, the pretty pink lips at her core. Everything magnified, not just in
size, but in attractiveness. My mother is the most beautiful woman I have ever
seen. Dreams aside, I wonder what it would be like to be with her at full size
– and quickly quash that thought. That's dangerous.  
  
Mom hums, striding through her room to the bathroom. She sweeps the shower
curtain aside and turns on the faucet. Hot water cascades down. Mom steps
under it. Water pours over her shoulders and chest and washes over me. It's
like standing in a heavy rain, or under a waterfall. I drop my head to keep
breathing.  
  
The world spins suddenly. Mom sets me down at the edge of the tub. She smiles
and winks and begins to soap herself up. I get to watch. Mom covers her
shoulders, arms, breasts, belly and thighs with suds. She caresses her legs
with long fingered hands, creating soapy trails along their pale, muscular
length. She stands up. The shower pounds against her back, but her front
remains coated in a fine sheen of slick bubbles.  
  
"Now where did I put that loufa?" she asks, pretending to think. I can see it
over her shoulder, hanging from the shower head. She shrugs and leans down to
scoop me up with slick, soapy hands. I brace myself as she presses my back
against her shoulder and begins to scrub herself with me. It's not unpleasant.
She uses light pressure, and her skin is smooth and soft to begin with, made
only moreso by the layer of soap covering her from neck to foot. The soap
soaks into my skin as well as she sweeps me across her curves, over her
breasts, along her nipples, down through her cleavage, across her belly. She
switches her grip and runs my back along one arm, then the other.  
  
My dick throbs hungrily between my legs.  
  
I grip Mom's fingers and try to enjoy the ride. She is being careful with me,
I know, but I'm still bouncing around a bit. She spins me around and pushes me
face first into the tangle of curls above her pussy. My pelvis mashes against
her labial lips. My cock bounces against her, and I reach between us to search
for her clit. But before I do she pulls me away again and rubs my back and ass
along an inner thigh.  
  
I look up at her pussy, flushed with passion and coated in suds, and wish I
could stay there a while. She rubs me across her other thigh, but then sets me
down again at the edge of the tub. Water laps at my feet and suds and bubbles
drip off of my body, along with a river of precum spraying from the end of my
cock.  
  
Mom turns, letting the water wash the soap off her front and allowing me to
admire her back, and where it meets her legs. She looks over her shoulder at
me with a naughty smile, and proceeds to finish cleaning herself more
conventionally. She does her hair last, and when that is clean, turns the
shower down but not off.  
  
Mom leans over, huge breasts swaying overhead, to grasp my soapy body in both
hands. I fly into the air and under the water, which hoses me off. Mom sweeps
a few fingers up and down my erection, bringing me to a quick but enjoyable
orgasm. My seed sprays across her hands, but is quickly swept away by the
shower. Mom shakes and shudders with her own small orgasm, gritting her teeth
and riding it out without dropping me.  
  
We leave the shower. Mom sets me down on the sink and proceeds to wash her
face, apply makeup, dry and style her hair. She leaves me briefly to fetch a
terrycloth robe from the bedroom. Mom smiles as she scoops me up once more and
drops me unceremoniously into one of the robe's capacious pockets.  
  
"A little breakfast, I think, and then we'll be able to start our day," she
says.  
  
"And what are we going to do today?" I ask as I bounce around in her pocket. I
swing back and forth as she walks, and sometimes bump up against her thigh.
There's almost enough room for me to stretch out. It's like being in a moving
hammock. All things considered, I'd rather be in her hands.  
  
We reach the kitchen quickly and Mom putters around, making toast and cereal
and mixing up some fresh yogurt and raspberries. She sets me down on the table
eventually, gives me a manageable amount of food, and devours her own
breakfast quickly. I scratch at the beard I'm growing, and lament the lack of
a razor. Haven't brushed my teeth or flossed in days, either.  
  
Mom looks out in the backyard while she cleans off the dishes, humming to
herself. I watch, admiring her calves beneath the hem of her robe, as well as
the sweet round humps of her asscheeks, which even the thick terrycloth cannot
hide. My cock is stiff, standing proudly from between my legs, and drops of
precum slide down its length. I'm throbbing with need, but for now with my
belly full I am content merely to admire her from afar.  
  
Mom turns to me. The sash of the robe has loosened slightly, allowing the
front to part a bit and expose a tantalizing amount of cleavage. "Let's get
some fresh air today. You must be tired of being cooped up in the house."  
  
I am, but... outside? "Are you sure about that? Is it safe?"  
  
Mom nods. "We'll just do some sunbathing in the backyard. I'll get a few
things ready, and no one will see a thing. Promise."  
  
"Okay," I say.  
  
Mom beams at me. She bounces out of the room, huge tits jiggling enticingly,
robe swirling around her luscious legs. I think of that old saying, "I hate it
when she goes, but I love watching her leave."  
  
Mom returns in short order, clad in t-shirt, jean shorts, and chunky sandals.
Her braless tits sway underneath the shirt, which appears two sizes too small,
molding itself to her perfect body like a second skin. She has a basket in her
hands, filled with all sorts of bottles and implements whose function and
purpose I can only guess. She pulls a pair of dark sunglasses out of the
basket and slips them on.  
  
I jump down from the table when she exits through the sliding glass door that
leads onto the back patio. I leap up onto the counter, to the window over the
sink, and watch Mom walk around the perimeter of the backyard. We have a high
fence around the property, just like in my dreams, but for the first time I
realize the old fence I'm familiar with has been replaced. Which is a good
thing, as it was pretty weatherbeaten and old. Must have happened while I was
in Australia.  
  
Bushes and flowers encircle the back yard, and the furthest third of the yard,
closest to the fence, is where Mom plants her herbs and vegetables. It's early
in the season yet, but plenty of green growing things are scattered about the
place.  
  
Mom pulls a piece of chalk from her basket and scribbles circles and glyphs
and weird letters along parts of the fence. She steps into the middle of the
yard and pulls out a bottle, which she points into the air and shakes, sending
the contents spilling out. I expect a liquid, but instead its some kind of
glittery powder, the exact color of which I can't make out in the bright
sunlight.  
  
This is pretty weird to watch. I know Mom is a witch. Besides telling me so,
the proof is in my reduced stature and the way the hex has altered our sexual
boundaries. But still, it's odd seeing her do magic (which is what I presume
she is doing).  
  
Finally satisfied, Mom returns to the house, pulls off her glasses, and sets
the basket on the kitchen table.  
  
I leap down to the counter. "What was that all about?"  
  
"Just a few charms to maintain our privacy. The markings on the fence will
compel people to look away from our yard, and the fairy powder will ensure
that, even if someone does peek over the fence or between some boards, they'll
see what the expect to see."  
  
"And what will people expect to see?"  
  
Mom smiles an enigmatic smile. "I'm going to change into a swimsuit and get a
few things. Can you entertain yourself while I do?"  
  
I'd rather watch her get dressed, but she does call the shots. I shrug
noncommittally, but Mom takes it as a yes. She swirls out of the kitchen. I
hear her hurry up the stairs to the second floor.  
  
I leap down from the counter and approach the sliding glass doors. My cock
bobs between my legs. I leave drops of juice behind wherever I go. I'm getting
used to being like this, but I don't want to. I'm horny as all get out, but
resist the urge to rub one out, deciding to wait for Mom. It's more fun with
her anyway.  
  
After a while, Mom returns, humming to herself again. She has her dark hair
up, and mostly hidden underneath a broad brimmed sunhat. She is also wearing a
short silk robe, which only covers her upper arms, torso, and the tops of her
thighs. I've never seen Mom in a bikini, not for real, and I wonder if she has
one on now. She's only ever put on a one-piece before, as far as I know.  
  
She ignores me, puttering around the kitchen, pouring herself a tall glass of
lemonade to which she adds a liberal amount of tequila and an obnoxious number
of ice cubes. She also has a large bottle of sunscreen. She grabs her
sunglasses and slips them on. Her flip flops slap against her heels. She
swings the sliding door open and steps outside.  
  
I half expected her to pick me up, but I guess she isn't going to, so I leap
after her, out into the open air. Beneath the patio awning it is cool, but the
air outside is still warmer than inside the house. It feels good, though,
especially the light breeze that swirls through the yard.  
  
Mom pulls a low plastic table off the patio into the middle of the yard,
setting her drink and sunscreen down on it. She saunters back, hips swaying,
to grab a lawn chair, unfolding it and laying it beside the table.  
  
I watch her carefully, looking around the backyard. It occurs to me that stray
cats or birds of prey could cause me some serious difficulty. Even a squirrel
or a chipmunk could ruin my day. Never mind the insects. I suppress a shudder.  
  
Mom is inscrutable behind her glasses and hat, but I notice her untying the
sash of her robe and slipping it off her shoulders. She pulls the garment off
and lays it on the headrest of the chair.  
  
My dreams come true. She owns a bikini. And it's a small one – although
anything would look small trying to contain her humongous breasts and
stretched across her wide hips. Its dark purple, made of some kind of shiny
material, with white ties at the back of her neck and on her hips. The fabric
is abbreviated, covering only the essentials, which means there are three tiny
triangles on the front and one tiny triangle on the back. The bottoms mold
themselves to Mom's pussy, showing off an impressive camel toe, while her huge
hardened nipples tent the top. She looks phenomenal. I don't know why it is
that seeing a woman barely clothed is more exciting than seeing her completely
nude, but it's a fact. And the view puts a little more steel into my already
painfully hard cock.  
  
Mom settles down into the chair, stretching her long legs out, and kicks off
her chunky sandals. Her tits bounce with each movement. Mom crooks a finger at
me.  
  
The grass is springy under my feet, and the ground is uneven, with more give
than the floors inside the house. It serves to add a little spring to my
already impressive leaps. It only takes me a few jumps to reach the chair. I
land beside Mom's shapely ankle. Her full lips curl up into a sexy smile.  
  
Her fair skin glows in the warm sunshine. I feel my own body heating up, and
am glad of the several months I spent in Australia working on my tan. Still,
there are parts of my anatomy that I don't want getting sunburned.  
  
I make my way awkwardly along the chair, slipping and sinking into the fabric,
forced to lean on Mom's smooth and silky leg. Mom leans back, thrusting her
tits into prominence, presumably watching me, though her eyes are hidden by
her sunglasses.  
  
When I reach her hips, I lift myself up onto Mom's thigh and stand with hands
on my waist, looking up at her. "I need some sunblock," I say.  
  
Mom nods. "I do too, but we should take care of you first, I suppose." I feel
her hands close around my legs and lift me up. My trunk wobbles, and I brace
myself on the back of her thumbs. Mom lifts me to her lips, which she moistens
with her huge pink tongue. I get a kiss on my abs and a long lick along my
torso. Mom opens her mouth wide and lays my cock along her tongue. Slowly she
closes her lips, trapping me between them. She sucks on me like a straw,
gently but urgently. My hips jerk forward in response.  
  
This close, I can see her eyes through the darkened lenses. She is watching me
intently, her eyes boring into mine. I shift my hands to her upper lip, just
beneath her flaring nostrils. I want to thrust hard, drive my cock between her
full, moist lips again and again until I explode, but her hands keep me rigid.
She is in control. I haven't got the leverage.  
  
She teases me with tongue and lips. Her saliva coats my length, my balls, my
thighs, my abdomen. Her tongue undulates, toying with my dick, corkscrewing it
around, raising it up and down. It is torturous, but sweet torture. I'm
getting close. I risk a glance over my shoulder, even knowing how both hands
are gripping me, just to make sure she isn't teasing herself. Mom's thighs rub
together, and her bikini bottoms are bunching up against her pussy. The shiny
material shows no sign of the moisture I am sure is seeping into it.  
  
I turn back to her face. "Mom, I-" I begin to gasp out, but lose my train of
thought as my sensitive cockhead nudges against the roof of her mouth.  
  
Mom releases me briefly. Licks her lips. "Go ahead, baby. Cum for Mommy." She
swallows me again. I thrust with all my strength, still held tight, but as her
tongue seems to curl around my distended cock, I feel the charge build at its
base. I explode in a shuddering climax, jetting rope after rope of creamy goo
directly into her mouth. Mom moans with her own mini-orgasm, linked to mine by
the hex. My cock throbs and shudders, spraying Mom's tongue with my seed. She
opens her mouth to show me the lake of cum pooling on her tongue, even as the
last few spurts jettison from the apple-sized head of my dick. When at last
the flood subsides, and I slump against her upper lip, gasping, Mom curls her
tongue and noisily swallows my cum. She smiles sweetly and lashes at my crotch
with her tongue once more, cleaning me up a bit.  
  
Holding me in one hand, Mom adjusts the chair so that she reclines further.
She sets me on her smooth, warm belly. I watch as she picks up the bottle of
sunscreen, almost as tall as I am, and squirts some in her palm. She scoops up
some on the fingertips of her other hand and begins to apply it to me in short
brushstrokes, covering my body quickly and efficiently. She lingers on my
waist and crotch, swooping slickened fingers along my rampant length to ensure
I am thoroughly coated. At last, satisfied, she releases me, wipes her hands
on her thighs, and picks up her drink. She takes a few swallows. Condensation
from the glass drips off and falls to her cleavage, where cold drops leave
trails down her pale skin.  
  
Mom adjusts the chair again, until she is lying flat on her back. She tilts
her hat a little to keep her face in shade. Mom picks up the bottle of
sunscreen again. "Ready to do me, sweetie?"  
  
I look up and down her immense body, admiring the curves and valleys or her
supremely feminine form. It will take me hours to cover her whole body,
rubbing the lotion in with my tiny hands. But who am I to argue?  
  
While I debate, Mom hefts the sunscreen and squeezes a few dollops in her
hands. She sweeps them along her shoulders and arms, giving herself a good
coat. Again, she rubs the excess off on her thighs. She sips her drink again,
watching me through her sunglasses.  
  
I stand on her belly, watching. "Where do you want me to start?"  
  
She thinks a moment. "Let's start at the bottom and work our way up." I look
behind me as she waggles her toes. I shrug and start making my way down her
hip, along her thigh, across her shin and down to her right foot. Mom assists
by squeezing sunscreen onto her ankles. She leaves huge piles of the creamy
stuff, about knee high to me.  
  
Mom extends her dainty feet in a pointe position, and I sidle up beside the
one on the right. I scoop up sunscreen in both arms and smear it across the
top of her foot, using both limbs and chest to spread the material as much as
possible. I repeat the action with her other foot. I touch up a bit, even
getting between her toes, which elicits a high-pitched giggle from the other
end of the lounge chair.  
  
There's still a little bit of fluid on her ankles, so I sweep back up her
shins, making it about halfway on each before I run out. I try to move quickly
and efficiently, rubbing the lotion in as much as I can, but I leave a few
streaks behind. Mom smoothes them out with a few flicks of her hands. She
squeezes out more sunscreen on her knees and thighs as she does, encouraging
me to keep going.  
  
My dick rubs along her skin as I go to work, leaving a gleaming trail of
precum along her legs as I scurry back and forth. I rub the lotion in where I
can, trying to cover as much area as possible. More sunscreen ends up on me
than on her, though, and I end up rubbing my whole body across her left thigh.
Her skin is silky and smooth, the leg well muscled and beautifully sculpted.
It doesn't take long for the friction, lotion, and proximity to Mom's body and
scent to set me off. I deposit a load of my own cream on her leg. She shivers
as it runs down her thigh and pools on the lounger. Mom's hand flashes over
and by me, rubbing my goo into her skin until it gleams wetly.  
  
She picks me up and sets me down on her other thigh, urging me gently but
insistently with a finger presses against my buttocks. "You still have a lot
of ground to cover, little man," she says breathily. This close to juncture
between her legs, I can smell her arousal, and the effect my own orgasms have
had on her. So I repeat myself on her other leg, rolling my whole body around,
basically humping myself against her muscular thigh. Soon I am spraying my
jism again, decorating her leg with the fruit of my passion.  
  
Mom presses her palm into my back and pushes me around on her leg, smearing me
in cum and lotion. Her other hand slips beneath the panel of shiny fabric
barely covering her crotch and goes to work on her steaming wet gash.  
  
While she teases herself, and phantom sensations stroke my still rampant
member, Mom picks up the sunscreen and sprays a few dollops onto her rounded
belly. She sets the bottle aside and picks me up, only to unceremoniously drop
me in the middle of the lotion. The one hand flies to her drink while the
other continues to play with herself.  
  
More drops of condensation decorate her cleavage as she swallows greedily. I
roll around on her stomach, smearing her with lotion, coating myself in the
process. I get to work, pushing and rubbing and humping away, trying to cover
as much as possible. I have to bend down to slip beneath her left arm while
her hand is busy at her crotch. I coat her stomach and her hips and her ribs
and as far as I can reach down either side of her body. And I erupt across her
wrist and hand. Semen splatters her bikini bottoms, sounding like rain on a
tarp as it lands.  

Mom moans and shivers as a light orgasm sweeps across her body. Her hand comes
free and she brings a dripping finger to my face, rubbing her own juices
across my cheeks. I lap at her fingertip, tasting her, drinking her in, but I
doubt she feels it.  
  
Mom sits up a bit and undoes the tie at the back of her neck and the one
across her back. She lifts her bikini top away and lets it flutter to the
ground. Behind her dark sunglasses, Mom smiles lustily at me. She grabs the
bottle of sunscreen with both hands and sprays long ribbons of lotion across
each breast. The white material brings to mind other things, and I fully
expect to be adding my own "lotion" to her tits in a few moments.  
  
Mom leans back. Her tits shift and spread across her chest, although not as
much as you'd expect for a woman her age and for breasts of that size. They're
supernaturally firm and perky, and she thrusts them further into prominence by
pressing her biceps against them while crossing her wrists over her crotch.
This also neatly pens me in against her abdomen, encouraging me to advance in
only one direction.  
  
Both of Mom's hands get busy as I clamber across her belly and into her
cleavage. The huge mounds of her spectacular milky white breasts spread out on
either side of me, capped by gigantic, beautifully pink and beautifully
engorged nipples. With a grin, I set to it, once again throwing myself bodily
against her flesh, using my entire body as the instrument to spread lotion
across her vulnerable, pale skin. My cock drags across her, through streamers
of lotion, adding my own moisture to the mix. I sweep my arms back and forth,
spreading the stuff, rubbing it into her skin.  
  
When I am on my hands and knees, straddling her right nipple, my cock
awkwardly jabbed into her soft, firm flesh, I feel the slight pressure of her
fingertips against my back. Her moisture drips onto my back as she presses me
into her tit. "Fuck that titty, baby," Mom cooes, and I can hardly argue. I
hump against her, sliding my slickened cock against her, while her hardened
nipple presses into my chest. I grab it in both arms and squeeze and pull
against it. Her breast jiggles beneath me, flesh rippling with the impact as
my body slams against her again and again. Her fingers press into my back,
pinning me in place, driving me on, as her juices drip from her digits and
pool on my back. It doesn't take long for me to cum, gushing heartily onto her
breast. My seed splatters and slides across her lotion-moistened flesh,
caroming off her nipple and spraying in an arc onto her ribs and flank.  
  
Mom sweeps me up and throws me a little roughly onto her other tit, while her
free hand continues to rub lotion and now cum into her other breast. I set to
without any further encouragement. Sweat drips from my body, and every muscle
aches pleasantly.  
  
Upside down across Mom's breast, I grab her nipple with both hands and start
to pull and tug. My hips jab into the upper slope of her tit, allowing my
engorged cock to glide across her moistened skin. Mom cups her breast with one
hand and begins to knead and caress it, which causes it to shake and jiggle
beneath me. I ride it like a bucking bronco; the most sensuous amusement park
ride ever.  
  
Mom's other hand returns to her pussy, slipping beneath her bikini bottoms to
tease her pink folds. The phantom sensations of her masturbating are added to
the real sensations of my cock sliding across her breast. I bounce on her
luscious breast, rising and falling as I fuck her tit. My hypersensitive cock
is erupting in no time, adding another layer of cream to her glistening skin.
Mom's entire body shudders beneath me as she rides her own orgasm. It's like
riding an earthquake.  
  
Mom lifts my semi-limp body away from her. She holds me in her hand while she
smears the last of my cum and a little bit of sunscreen across her exposed
skin.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
I try to catch my breath. "A little wrung out," I finally admit.  
  
Mom laughs. "Yeah, I'll bet. I have to say, even with the hex in place your
stamina is impressive."  
  
This causes my chest to puff out with perverse pride. "Thanks, but I honestly
can't help myself."  
  
Mom laughs again, pleased. "Shall we relax and catch some rays?" She lays me
down between her colossal breasts.  
  
I crane my neck, trying to look her in the eye and instead catching just her
chin. "Are you sure you want me here?" I spread my arms out and put each hand
on one of her breasts. I can feel her heartbeat against my back. "You're going
to have an interesting tan line to explain."  
  
Mom shrugs, which causes her enormous breasts to shake, rattling me between
them. I don't complain. "The only person who will even see it besides you is
Clark. And if he can't handle it, then he isn't the one for me."  
  
I turn my head, surveying the huge expanse of Mom's luscious body. I'm silent
a moment. "And who is the one for you, Mom?" I hear myself say.  
  
She sighs. It's her turn to be quiet. Just when I think she isn't going to
answer at all, she clears her throat and says, "There's only ever been one
before. Your father. I miss him still. No one is ever going to replace him, or
what we had together." She nudges the back of my head with a finger. "You're
pretty close, especially after the last few days, and you look so much like
him it's scary sometimes. But I don't really think there's another 'one' for
me."  
  
Not necessarily the answer I wanted to hear, but then again, it's probably
better than what I wanted to hear. I think I'm even afraid to admit to myself
what I was hoping for.  
  
"No, Clark will either accept it, or he won't," Mom continues, missing my
reaction. Which is for the best. "In which case he'll be out of my life. I'll
be disappointed, but not really sad."  
  
I cough. "I thought you liked him."  
  
"I do," Mom assures me. "But we're not what you'd call serious." She laughs
suddenly. "Plus I've been cheating on him terribly, and he'd be well within
his rights to dump me outright."  
  
For the first time, I feel guilty about that. I hadn't really considered how
my Mom's boyfriend might feel about the last few days. I hadn't really
considered how anyone would feel about it, actually. I kind of assumed no one
but Mom and I would ever know about it. But then I remember Mom explained to
Clark what had happened, and he promised to stay away until the hex blew over.
And that makes me feel even more guilty. I remember that my first impression
was that he was a pretty nice guy, and nothing that has happened since changes
that impression. Crap. I feel lower than dirt.  
  
Mom nudges the back of my head again. "What are you thinking, Robbie?"  
  
"I just, uh, feel bad about what we're doing. Because of what we're doing to
Clark. He seems like a nice guy."  
  
"Don't let the nice guy act fool you, dear. Clark's an adult, and a witch
himself. He understands. We're not fully in control right now, and even if we
were..." she trails off.  
  
I twist in her cleavage, looking up towards her face. "Yeah?"  
  
Her cheeks darken. "Even if we were," she finishes, "I wouldn't trade the last
few days for anything. This is the most fun I've had in years, Robbie. It's
inappropriate, probably unhealthy for us both, and it's perverse, but damn,
it's been fun."  
  
I laugh, suddenly and inexplicably feeling better. "Me too, Mom. Me too." I
roll over completely and give her an awkward, tiny hug. Mom places her palm
against my back in reciprocation.  
  
I release a yawn I can't quite stifle.  
  
"Is my little man tired?" Mom asks with a smile. I nod, my eyes suddenly
drooping, as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. The exertion, the sun, and
the closeness of Mom all combine to make me feel groggy. Mom pats me on the
back and caresses me with a few fingers. "Rest, baby. Mama's right here."  
  
I drift off into unconsciousness in moments, warm and safe and secure.  
  
15.  
  
When I come to, the sun has shifted. The brim of Mom's hat casts a shadow
across the top half of my body. A cool breeze washes over us, and I shiver
slightly.  
  
Mom has been dozing, but she perks up when I start to move. "What time is it?"  
  
She sits up a bit and stretches. "Almost lunch time. I think we should go in,
take a shower, have a bite to eat. Then we'll figure out what we're doing with
the rest of our day."  
  
My engorged cock flexes involuntarily. I have a few ideas about how to spend
the afternoon.  
  
Mom leaves the lounger and the table where they are, but gathers up me, her
empty glass, the sunscreen, and her discarded garments and walks into the
house.  
  
Mom sets me on top of the kitchen island and puts her glass in the sink. I
admire the curves of her body, thankful that she hasn't put either the bikini
top or the robe back on yet.  
  
I feel a sudden sharp pain in my stomach that sends me doubling over. I grip
my sides. The pain throbs again. Mom turns slowly, sensing my distress. Her
eyes grow wide, and I'm surprised to see tears blossom within them. Without
hesitating, though, she cradles me in both hands and carries me down to the
floor.  
  
The pain in my gut radiates outward, down along each limb, up through my neck
and into my skull. It bounces around between my ears and I almost black out.
My vision swims. I feel as though my body is made of taffy. Soft and pliable,
I am stretching up and outward. The pain rises with each throb, and each throb
comes more quickly than the last. Before long, there is nothing but the pain,
thundering through my system, washing over me, inundating me.  
  
And then, suddenly, it is gone.  
  
I lie on hands and knees doubled over on the kitchen floor, gasping and
shaking and shuddering. My whole body is drenched in sweat. I take deep, shaky
breaths that fill my lungs with sweet, sweet air.  
  
I feel hands on my shoulders. Two hands. Oh no. I look up into Mom's face. She
looks stricken. Sudden vertigo grips me, my stomach doing flip flops. She's
normal, the same size as me, maybe a little shorter. I look around quickly,
seeing that the entire kitchen is back to normal. No, not the kitchen. Me. The
hex has worn off, finally. I'm back to my regular height.  
  
I'm also buck naked in the middle of our kitchen, my body still sticky with a
mix of sunscreen and the coital fluids of myself and my mother. I can't help
but notice that she is herself still nude, save for her bikini bottoms and
chunky sandals. Her breasts, even at normal size, are magnificent. I can't
hide the effect they have on me, and I feel blood surge into my flaccid dick,
giving it length and strength as it rises between my legs.  
  
Mom is crying, but she's smiling too. "Are you okay? How do you feel?" Her
hands leave my shoulders to cup my face. "You look like you just lost your
best friend, sweetie."  
  
I gulp. I suppose in a way I have. I rise to my feet, my hands covering my
erection as best I can. Seems silly after the last few days, but the hex is
over, and I shouldn't feel this way about her any longer.  
  
"I should... I should... I need a shower," I manage to say.  
  
Mom nods. Her smile falters. She looks so sad. I want to give her a hug. Hell,
I want to take her in my arms and kiss her... but I can't. Her own arms lift
and she looks for a moment like she might hug me anyway, but I back away
slowly, shuffling in my embarrassment and lust.  
  
Mom picks up her robe and slips it on, covering herself finally, and turns
away. "Better go take that shower," she says, her voice low.  
  
Again, the urge to take her in my arms is strong. But I scamper away, up the
stairs, into the hallway bathroom. I know I am fleeing, but what else can I
do?  
  
The next few days are awkward. Neither Mom nor I quite know how to act around
one another any longer. I spend as much time away from the house as possible,
hanging out with Tony or the other guys when I can. I barely unpack. In fact,
I decide to move in with Tony for the duration of the summer. I'm going to be
spending most of it down the city at my internship anyway. I can tell it
breaks Mom's heart. The look she gives me when I tell her is unmistakable, but
she doesn't tell me not to go.  
  
Part of me wishes she would.  
  
I can't help but notice that Clark doesn't come around, and wonder if he's
just not by when I am, as if he's avoiding me, or whether Mom broke up with
him. I could ask, I suppose, but that would mean actually having a
conversation with her, and I do my best to avoid that. Still I pop over the
house to do chores, mow the lawn, weed the garden, take out the trash. I just
try to do them when I know she's going to be out.  
  
There's a cute girl in my internship program who flirts with me constantly.
Short, blonde, petite, great sense of humor. I know I could have her if I
wanted to make her mine, if I put in any effort at all. But I'm not
interested. My mind is awash with images of a much differently built woman, of
plush curves and smooth skin and long, dark hair. None of the women I meet
this summer interest me.  
  
I'm a man obsessed. Even with the hex faded, the memories and sensations
remain. Every night I masturbate to the memories of that weekend, feeling
ashamed and disgusted with myself immediately afterward. I lose weight,
because I have no appetite, and my work suffers. I'm distracted, tormented,
mind and gut in turmoil.  
  
In mid-July, my supervisor calls me in to his office to find out what is wrong
with me. When I interviewed for the position, I was a much different person.
Where is that guy now? I make apologies, some lame excuses, and redouble my
efforts at work, hoping that if I focus on that, it will distract me from
other things.  
  
I know this fugue I am in can't go on, but I don't know what else to do. I
don't know what to think or feel. My mind and emotions are awhirl.  
  
A few days after my meeting with my supervisor, I'm thrown another curve ball.
Mom sends me a text. "We need to talk," it says. "Dinner, at home, Friday,
6:00."  
  
Right. That's the next day. I want to blow it off, avoid seeing her, being
with her – but I miss her. Not just as... as whatever we were that weekend,
but as a mom. It's been just the two of us since dad died, and I miss her. And
I feel bad about leaving her alone.  
  
So, Friday after work I pour myself into my car and head out of the city.
Instead of returning to Tony's to change, I go straight home, still in my suit
but with my tie loosened.  
  
Mom's car isn't in the driveway when I arrive, but I'm early. With heavy heart
and a constricted gut, I approach the front door and let myself into the
house. My house. It feels weird to be here even now. I'm reminded of how I
felt in that dream, where everything in the house was stolen and replaced with
an exact copy. Only now I feel like a copy, too.  
  
Knowing I will be greeted by silence, I still release a half-hearted "Hello?
Mom?" When no one answers, I pull my tie from my throat completely, shrug out
of my suit jacket, and hang both on the hat rack near the front door.  
  
I stroll through the house, not sure what I am expecting to see, but not
seeing it. Nothing has changed, really.  
  
When I reach the kitchen, I stop in my tracks.  
  
There's a pie cooling in the middle of the island. I sniff the air, and the
unmistakable scent of blueberries reaches my nostrils. My mouth starts
watering even as my heart constricts. There's a plate, a fork, and a serving
knife next to the pie. But no note.  
  
After what seems like an eternity, I slowly walk into the room. I circle the
island, as if the pie were some kind of dangerous animal. I guess it is. What
does this mean? Is it just a pie, a peace offering, my favorite desert since I
was a kid? Or something else?  
  
I stop next to the island. I put my hands down on either side of the pie. I
lean over, taking a deep breath, letting the scent of warm blueberries, pie
crust, and baked goodness wash over me, through me.  
  
I think about Mom. I think about that weekend. I think about what it meant to
both of us, what I hope it meant for her, what I fear it meant for me.  
  
I pick up the knife and fork and cut myself a piece. As I take the first bite,
I hear Mom's car pull into the driveway.  
  
The End




End file.

