In the morning, Roberta bloomed back into wakefulness with a smile on her lips before she was even fully conscious or coherent. Arms stretched to the sides of the creaking bed, she yawned and stroked her fingers across the hilly terrain of her bulbous chest. The flesh jiggled, warm and glazed with night sweat after she downed most of the wine bottle on her own the previous night. She murmured lovingly at the feeling of her still-naked six-inch son clamped in the plump geometry. Another jostle, just for good measure, and Roberta couldn’t help but giggle.

            At this second nudge, as well as feeling Kyle’s slumber-deprived frame go spread-eagle between the massive hot air balloon shapes of her tits, Roberta noticed something else. An incessant little nub prodding and flopping against the plush walls. Someone had morning wood. The woman stifled another chuckle and craned her neck down; taking hold of each boob, she parted them until she could see all of Kyle’s hapless, ruddy body in her cleavage. Sure enough, his miniature dick was at full mast despite his restless sleep.

            Roberta’s hand arced over the shrunken Adonis that was her offspring. She allowed her pinky to brush ever-so-gently up his pathetic shaft, then simply fastened her thick digits around his hips. Dragging him up the tomb of her breasts, the woman plucked her son out and studied him at eye level between her fingers.

            “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Roberta cooed.

            Kyle blearily squirmed to life again in his mother’s fingers. The air reeked of feminine, alcoholic sweat and a whiff of BO. Upon realizing is location and his precise level of naked exposure, though, the boy automatically curled into Roberta’s nearest finger in defense.

            “Aw, somebody’s a little shy this morning, huh?” she continued.

            “M-Mom…” Kyle whined. His adorable little muscles tensed and shivered against Roberta’s hand, no-doubt struggling with the internal conflict between breaking into tears or screaming in rage. “Please… p-put me down.”

            Roberta couldn’t help but smirk again at the infantile sensation of his athletic frame quivering in her almighty fingers. Still, his mewling whimpers hit her right in the maternal emotions. It was almost too precious hearing her normally headstrong boy stutter just a little, endeavoring to stay in her good graces despite his turmoil.

            “Of course, sweetie,” she responded. Of course she didn’t specify when. Her arm drew in nearer to where her head reclined dreamily on the pillow: her frazzled hair strewn about, her eyes still half-shut and smeared with leftover makeup. Those thin, unappealing lips fluttered between her best attempt at a flirty smile and an anticipatory pucker.

            Kyle flinched, throwing his arms over his head as his mother plied his upper body back into her undulating lips. Suction tightened around his torso, dragging him like a tractor beam into the supple force of the woman’s stippled mouth. The smooch was measured by mounting moisture and a never-ending squeal from the woman’s cheeks. When Roberta released her son from the kiss, her lips billowed open, unleashing a concentrated jetstream of rancid, stale morning breath directly into Kyle’s face. He hacked so hard he nearly choked as his mother’s latent saliva and old lipstick dripped down his chest.

            “Just wanted to say good morning properly to my favorite little date,” Roberta declared. True to her word, then, her hand hovered over the bedside table and Kyle was freed upon its wooden surface.

            With no response, Kyle busied himself shakily batting away the various dried liquids from his mother’s body that he’d accumulated through the night and morning. His erection at least had the courtesy to mostly wither away after that revolting gesture on Roberta’s part. The boy slumped down, wrapping his legs in for some partial protection from any further curious tongue assaults from his mother, and bowed his head.

            “You just sit tight. I’m going to get dressed, and then we’ll go find ourselves some breakfast. We’ve got another R&R session today, you know!” Roberta rose clumsily from the bed in her underwear, combing her fingers through her hopelessly frizzy hair.

            “Can… can I…”

            “What’s that, hon?”

            “Can I… have some clothes? Please?”

            “Clothes?” Roberta repeated back innocently. She opened the closet and withdrew her luxurious house robe and fluffy slippers.

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, Kyle. I’ve actually been thinking about that. Just stay with me for a second. I know you may not be a fan of the idea at first. You know ever since your… legal indiscretions… I’ve been doing some reading on R&R treatments around the country. What works, what doesn’t, what helps heal relationships under the same roof. And you know what I saw an awful lot of, Kyle?”

            “What?” he grunted.

            “It turns out reduced individuals, on the whole experienced a much more effective learning period when they were allowed to be just a little… freer. Outside the usual confines of society, such as wearing clothes, so they could just concentrate on becoming more productive citizens in their own house first. Isn’t that interesting?”

            “Are… you saying…”

            “I’m saying maybe just on a trial period, sweetie, that we’ll see how you do… being free. For now.”

            Kyle glanced down at his nude body in dismay, feeling the creepy glower of his beaming mother studying him in increasing detail. His skin tickled with nausea. Even cupping his hands over his crotch didn’t alleviate the feeling at all.

            “Come on now, sweetie. I thought you were always one for trying new things, setting new standards for yourself. Let’s see some of that spirit now,” Roberta encouraged. She returned to the bedside table as she slid her arms through the openings in the velvety robe. At more than six feet tall, the woman’s waist easily rose higher than the surface of the table where Kyle was marooned.

            The boy chanced an unfortunate look upward again. As he had in the clothing store, Kyle discovered himself staring directly into the barely concealed eye of a storm. His mother’s leopard panties, stretched thin over the riveted lips of her pussy just beneath; this morning, her underwear also happened to sag just a little lower than it did when new, the fabric darkened by ghostly patches of gummy liquid weighing the garment down. And it wasn’t hard to guess what, precisely, was weighing it down. Kyle felt a lurch in his throat.

            “For example, now that you and I are maybe just a little more… comfortable with one another, perhaps I can find a couple more useful lessons to teach you,” Roberta said. She cinched the fabric belt of the robe tight around her broad hips. Her fingers fished below her waist, then, separating the flaps of the robe so that her panties were only briefly hidden in shadow.

            “You know… like how to please a woman?” Roberta teased. Her thumb and index finger pinched the lacy band of the panties and gave them a quick tug toward her stomach. The leopard spots stretched and enlarged, the whole expanse of sticky fabric nearly turning translucent. Her thong strap rode ever-higher against the taint. Densely forested pubes still clogged with wet-dream ejaculate seemed to grow from thin air around the edges of her underwear, bristling audibly.

            Kyle felt his gag reflex warring for survival.

            “Don’t look so grim, dear. I’m only kidding,” Roberta scolded with a playful wink. Her palm laid a final pat upon her nethers. She closed her robe again and lowered a clammy, crotch-scented hand to collect her child.