Kyle Lawrence hung suspended over the bed far below, already perspiring and hyperventilating through well-learned sickness at what was to come, even though nothing had happened to him yet. It was just a Pavlovian response his little six-inch body inevitably endured now whenever he was placed in “the suit” for playtime. The 3D-printed bell-shaped helmet turned his cranium into a rubber cockhead, a plastic board pressed along his spine ensured his posture was kept straight as a rock-hard erection, while the suction cups fitted around his feet completed the ensemble with a scrotum, turning the boy into an almost life-size set of faux-genitals.

            As always, he was stuck to the wall, leaving his ridiculous tip-hat pointed temptingly out in the void. Kyle couldn’t see straight ahead very easily, since the board at his back made it tough to do anything but hold stiff and still, but the terrain of the bedsheets below was already shifting, fabrics pulling taut and buckling gently in response to a weighty force of nature traveling steadily across the immense mattress. Trembling in his dick-costume, Kyle saw his mother’s toes and soles enter his limited field of vision first as she backed herself at the wall, hunkered on her knees, and though it would do nothing to delay the oncoming storm, the boy diverted his gaze as far to the edges as he could.

            The view he found here offered no extra comfort, though, since the immediate surface area on either side of Kyle’s suctioned position was dented inward by two ovular bowl-curves, like a Venn diagram converging right over the six-inch living dildo. A perfect ass imprint decorated the wall, trophy-style, forming a telltale canyon with the outward-pointing toy boy centered near the base of the rounded shapes. The plaster and wallpaper had just about caved in, even though the walls were spotless a month before. It had only taken a couple weeks of repeated usage, fixing Kyle to the same spot on the wall and then carrying out the horrific game, for the bedroom wall to sustain battle damage from the repeated and relentless assaults. If they carried on like this much longer, those infamous butt cheeks just might knock two holes clean in the wall like wrecking balls, though it was probably much more likely that Kyle himself would suffer the same consequence long before the house did.

            Grimly accepting his unavoidable fate, the shrunken lad craned his neck back to see ahead, and this time was greeted by the overwhelming up-close sight of his gigantic naked mother Roberta’s tush, the plump peachy base to her middle-aged pear-shape. She’d sidled up very close to the wall now, near enough that if she shimmied her rear end, her jiggling cheeks would’ve bounced off her son in his dildo suit and made him wave like a springy door stopper. She held still for a moment at first, however, as she always did, wanting her boy to enjoy the tease of her ass’s ample geometry before it could engulf him and send him to his usual post for some doggy-style action. That position had been a favorite of Roberta’s for the past month, it seemed, necessitating her to specially order her son’s wall-mounted suit so he could participate fully. When she’d unveiled it to him in the box with a bow on top like a birthday surprise, she’d beamed with such pride and joy at her own cleverness, and appeared to genuinely believe Kyle would share her excitement for the new latitude this tool would allow them, given how the shrinker’s ability to participate in bedroom fun was limited by his half-foot size, and even more limited by the existential dread that consumed and nearly paralyzed him each time his happy-go-lucky forty-nine-year-old parent declared she was ready to get “close” with him again.

            “M-Mom…” Kyle whined. He coughed, having trouble forming words from how fast his heart was racing, but knew he had to make the attempt. “Mom, please… c-can’t we t-talk about this?”

            “What’s to talk about, sweetie?” Roberta purred in what she thought was a sultry flirtatious tone, already deeply in the mood. She swayed her cheeks ever so slightly, inadvertently spreading the voluminous cellulite enough that Kyle could see partially into the tight crack between. Buttock flab stretched and swelled with each tweak to her posture, scrunching in places then springing back to its naturally rotund shape.

            “It’s j-just… we did this two days ago… and the day before that… and the day before that. C-Couldn’t I… we… just take the night off?” Kyle peeped. It still took some getting used to having to literally beg his own mom not to use his body as a dildo, when not so long ago, he was a full-size young man, free to do what he wanted and ignore Roberta at his whim. He’d always viewed her as little more than a controlling annoyance before, a total pushover who was slumping toward her fifties as an overweight and unattractive loner, but now she was the most terrifying entity he could imagine: a big-assed monster who’d turned him into her personal fuck-pet.

            “Oh, Kyle, baby. Such a silly thing. You know Mommy needs her release every day, and yesterday we didn’t even put the suit on you!” Roberta sighed. “I know it can be just a little tiring now and again, but exercise is a good thing, and I can’t think of a better way to get the endorphins flowing. If I can’t have my release, I get severely backed up, and it’s simply not the same without you to help me. We’re a partnership now, you see, sweetie? This is just what comes from being a creature of intense sexuality, and I’m sorry if it embarrasses you a bit, bless your heart, but yes, whether you like to admit it or not, your Mommy is a very sexual being. This must happen. Plus, you don’t want to see me cranky, do you?”

            She had a point there, technically, as Kyle had learned to fear his mom’s bad moods like raging hurricanes, though as her sexual appetite ramped up seemingly with every passing day, it was getting tougher to distinguish the fallout from a good or bad mood. Even at her happiest, the woman was flush with energy, defying her age and figure with shows of endurance and sexual prowess that could’ve exhausted a porn star, and of course Kyle had to exist at the center of it all. If he was lucky, some nights he’d just receive a slobbery blowjob before his mom fell asleep with him nestled between her boobs, but recently, that just hadn’t cut it for her, and jamming the shrunken boy up her pussy from behind was recently such a favorite method, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Roberta announced it as their new nightly routine.

            “N-No, Mom, but… but…”

            “Yes, dear? Speak up, please. That outfit is absolutely adorable on you, but it does make it hard to hear you sometimes.”

            “I c-couldn’t… breathe last week,” he huffed, hardly able to mention it without feeling a wretch in his gullet that then threatened to cut off his airways from remembered trauma. The shaking got worse, making the wall-adhered dildo-shape wobble as though the owner, ironically, was enthused for the fun to come, when in fact Kyle couldn’t help from quaking as the dredges of that lengthy ongoing panic attack crept back into his psyche. “I couldn’t…. t-take it. I can’t. Please. Please d-don’t-”

            “Oh, sweetheart. Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree on at least one of those points,” Roberta answered. “Yes, I suppose I did go a little far last week, and I did apologize when you got so tuckered out after because you forgot to take a deep enough breath. But on the contrary to your second thought, I think you can take it. You take it very well, in fact! Better than most boys, I’m sure, judging by some of the complainers we hear from in the group meetings. A few of those mothers have learned from our example, yes, but their sons just have not gotten with the program yet. Not like you, darling. No, you’re Mommy’s perfect toy. You give and you take everything just as you’re meant to. So, you may not be confident enough to admit your own skill there, but it’s a mother’s job to prop her boy up however she has to. So take it from me, baby, because I’ve felt the difference. You… are… good. Plus, we did already take a couple days off from some of our favorite activities, if you’ll remember, and I’m just about ready to burst now. Another day, and I might simply keel over. And you wouldn’t want to put your poor Mommy in the hospital, now would you, dear?”

            Roberta ceased waving her butt back and forth so her quivering cheeks swatted the rubber cockhead, instead thrusting tauntingly in the direction of the wall then receding, which meant Kyle’s “tip” was alternately nudged just barely into her crack again and again. Even before his head dipped completely between those chunky cheeks at their upper limit near the curve of her back, however, he could feel the intense warmth radiating out of the valley, and worse, recognize the general sloppy aroma of his mother’s undercarriage. He’d come to know that stench well, of sweat and sex and grunge, but no matter how many times he caught another whiff of it, as Roberta prepared to stick him back at the source, Kyle shivered anew, his little body outright rejecting this perversion of the ordinary.

            The shrunken lad wished to try to argue more, to bargain and plead with whatever he had. Hell, at this point, he’d have been willing to promise his mother a double-time session next week, if that was what it took to stave off entering her at this precise moment. He truly had sunken low enough now that even the thought of delaying the terrifying inevitable was a reward in itself, knowing there was no escaping it eventually. Yet, saddest of all, even that most pathetic deal would mean nothing to Roberta. Because there was nothing stopping her from ramming her dildo-shaped son up her cunt over and over tonight, then next week, doing the same thing for twice as long anyway. At this realization, combined with his own exhaustion, and the way his almost-omnipresent panic-mode was setting in and drying out his throat, Kyle was silenced. Bitterly, he’d come to know that the energy he would use up pointlessly wailing for aid that his sugar-voiced fat-ass mom would never give was instead better spent steeling himself for the moist, foul-smelling, oxygen-deprived onslaught.

            Hearing no more interruptions, Roberta took her son’s silence for contentment, and reached behind her back. Both thick-fingered hands dipped between her globe-like cheeks and began to pry them apart slowly, while simultaneously tipping her ass just a bit higher, so that Kyle was not merely aligned with the smelly fault line near the top, but centered on the other axis as well, until he could see both above and below the dense curvature of her pale spongy rump. When Roberta spread her fingers to grasp each generous flank, she seemed to grip as hard as she could to fight the cellulite-driven forces that would slap her jellied cheeks right back together the moment she let go. Her knuckles turned white, and swollen ass flesh jutted out between each of her fingers as she clutched, but Roberta was determined, eventually separating her cheeks to their fullest extent and letting Kyle see completely where the sun didn’t shine, with nothing left to the imagination.

            Per usual, the boy wished desperately to turn away, but as his mom’s wide-open ass was so close, literally the only possible thing to see no matter which of the limited directions he craned his clamped-in neck, Kyle just had to drink it in. Heat and preliminary stink wafted en masse, surrounding him in stale fog. The darkness of her crack at last came to light, revealing the puckered pink hole underneath, which seemed to unclench and almost exhale like a separate mouth as a side-effect of Roberta relaxing her every muscle below the waist in preparation for a smoother entry. A few vile hairs ringed that awful orifice, though it was nothing compared to the forest region beyond. Just a little further to the front, brought into sharper relief as the woman helpfully arched her back and stuck her ass up yet higher, Kyle caught sight of his mother’s dark pubic shrubbery matting her genitals, already positively sopping with vinegary pussy runoff that dripped in long dollops off individual hairs and plunked onto the bedspread below, where she already had a wet spot congealing.

            At this familiar but nonetheless repulsive sight in particular, Kyle’s breathing sped up to an unhealthy extent, like he was left out naked in sub-zero temperatures, failing to inflate his lungs.  In reality the room couldn’t have been warmer, of course, by Roberta’s design, as she enjoyed lighting incense and vanilla-scented candles, in addition to keeping the thermostat cranked high to facilitate a steamier atmosphere for their play, which had the added result of making every act all the more miserable and, once things got sweaty enough, pungent as could be. The pleasant smell of the romantic candles was usually snuffed out within minutes by the far more oppressive musk fuming from Roberta’s slick, lip-smacking vagina and its torrential pre-cum leakage, and this time was no different.

Kyle stared into the damp hairy maw of his mother’s crotch, the place he’d emerged from at birth and then, eighteen years later, found himself re-entering and exiting over and over. Roberta insisted that with time he would get used to this drastic change in their relationship following his shrinkage, but if there was one thing Kyle knew for certain, and there were few of those left in his disgusting excuse for a new life, it was that he would never get accustomed to this hellish debauchery. He’d sooner die. Which, statistically, seemed more and more likely, after last week left him stranded upside Roberta’s pussy until her juices nearly replaced Kyle’s air supply. So perhaps he wouldn’t have to worry forever.

            “No, Mom. No, Mom. Please, please, please…” he caught himself chanting robotically, even understanding full-well it was useless. Still, it was instinctual, a survival tactic, like an insect trying to flap its wings while submerged in a puddle. “Mom, I’m begging you. Please don’t. Please… don’t…”

            “I’ve always loved it when you play hard-to-get, dear. It is SUCH a turn-on,” Roberta huskily declared. Using one hand to keep her cheeks spread well enough to slide the suctioned dick-boy beneath without obstruction, her opposite set of fingers worked to push her curly-haired labia even further open, but it hardly needed the help, loose and drooling as it already was. “Though, a word of advice, sweetie: you might want to translate some of that hard-getting into movement instead of talking, or you’re only going to get tired out before the finale again. Don’t disappoint Mommy, all right? Oh, GOD, I can’t take it longer. Not… having you inside, sweetie. This must be what it’s like withdrawing from heroin, I swear. Okay, enough chit-chat. Here it comes!”

            The extended teasing and fanfare indeed ended at last. Kyle watched his mother’s ample cheeks coming at him like a freight train, riding high enough that he was lined up with her monstrous open-mouth pussy and accompanying soaked carpet. The husk of his dildo suit, which seemed so thin now compared to the heavy beast about to swallow it and him up, bumped along Roberta’s taint, until the tip foraged through the messy pubic plain, separating gooey hairs like wheat, before slipping up the canal. Over time, the woman had so aggressively gotten her son acquainted with her womanhood, stretching and fitting it to his form, while also training her hormones to anticipatorily jump into hyper-drive before their scheduled nightly games, popping Kyle into the hole took almost no effort now. There wasn’t so much as a pause when the printed dickhead-hat passed easily astride her sticky petals, and from there, the rest of the shaft, and her boy’s rigid nude form, could shoot quickly within, filling up as much of her spacious cunt as she could force.

            On the first pump, as she so often did, Roberta held her position to begin with, just getting comfortable again, with her supple glutes backed into the snug dents she’d rammed into the wall. Only the testicle-disguised attachments over Kyle’s feet remained outside the chute, and just barely so; the rest of him was stuffed completely within her, exactly how she liked. Rather than slide back out immediately, though, she shimmied her ass, massaging it hard into the bowl-indents while shaking her whole full-figured frame, which meant because of Kyle’s fixed position, the cock-pretending boy was shaken like a maraca in his mother’s vaginal tunnel. Then, as the woman eased into the act, the slimy walls within took hold of the rod shape crammed inside, instantly smearing the paltry shell of the dildo, but mostly the exposed shrinker, in stagnant honey. Her cunt pulsated, clenching inward to grievously embrace the boy and his penis-outfit until it felt like a coiled boa had totally consumed him, then relaxed until Kyle had room to wobble again, so there was even room to spare: the ultimate kegel exercise. Roberta seemed to particularly enjoy an unpinched posture in the early going, as it allowed her to feel her shrunken son slapping against the interior walls of her pussy, which in turn only encouraged more sludge to ooze, sopping into Kyle and flowing past him as well, better lubricating the already-slippery entrance.

            The boy held onto his air for as long as he could. By necessity, he’d gotten good at making one inhale last a very long time, enough that he probably could’ve put some gearless deep-sea divers to shame, yet even the crushing pressure of the ocean was nothing next to the abuse suffered in and around his mother’s own briny depths. Just as Kyle’s supply was running dry, and an especially hard impact with the squishy tunnel knocked the rest of the wind out of him anyway, he felt relative coolness rising up from his ankles toward his chest, as Roberta retracted her offspring from her vag. Glorious, albeit still-humid and pussy-spiced, fresh air greeted the lad upon his exit. The suction cups held him fast to the wall, and the backboard still kept him straight as an arrow, but a slight wiggle couldn’t be helped in the aftermath, owing to the boy’s own feverish trembling and the residual motion from Roberta’s hefty cheeks wagging around the rubber shaft.

            The top of his accessory head, however, didn’t fully part ways with Roberta’s business, acting like an anchor to the point the way inside again so she wouldn’t have to re-find it for the next thrust, which was coming soon even more assuredly than the setting of the sun. This meant Kyle actually had his best look inside the floppy slit yet, since at least while cramped inside the thing, he didn’t have the burden of sight to contribute to his nausea yet more. Speechless, shaking, and still unable to take a full breath of air even when it was readily available, the boy watched in petrified horror as fresh shiny globs of his mom’s cum rolled slowly along the twin flaps of her labia in gummy trickles, collected at the bottom, and united into one dizzying liquid-gem of utterly repugnant middle-aged-womanhood-excretion which then spilled slowly down to the bed as one unbroken train before it landed in a puddle. Almost at the same moment, Roberta sighed with delight, and slammed her ass straight back at the wall, in turn sucking her son once again into the muggy fray of her crotch.

            She came back with such speed this time, the giant brunette’s meeting with the wall caused audible feedback, a creak in the surface and even a chip of plaster flying off. Her cunt imbibed Kyle so voraciously at this point, even the teste-booties were almost pulled inside the opening as well. Roberta wasn’t content to take her time waiting seconds on each end of the extreme now, and no sooner had her son been scraped along the ever-wetting canal surfaces, which briefly squeezed around him again like a closed fist, she was lurching forward.

            The ride out was even more violent, banging Kyle’s little face with each twitch in her hips as a response to the pleasure, and rather than pull him fully out just yet, Roberta paused with her son’s artificial dickhead still inserted, and began to shake her haunches in circles, which caused the shrunken victim’s face to be swabbed in the same loops round and round the rim of her labia. The matted cum-treated pube forest of course acted as rough cushioning, thankfully not as scratchy as usual thanks to all the natural lubing, but after enough repetitions at such an aggressive pace, they threatened to rug-burn Kyle’s cheeks, if the unthinkably gross textures didn’t just make him upchuck first. Then he was out again, for just a heartbeat while Roberta moaned, and then even more swiftly, they were back in the swing. And now the piston-motion really kicked into gear.

            In and out, in and out, Roberta rolled herself forward on her hands and knees, then immediately after launched her ass backward to a chorus of crunched wall dust, squeaking mattress springs, clapping sweat-greased cellulite, and the unholy slorp of her miniature boy rushing up and down the fragrant hair-wreathed track of her pussy. Over and over she whomped her way into the bedroom wall, in time adding her own labored breathing and dramatic but all-too-real cries to the nasty choir. Once she’d hit a consistent rhythm at speed, Roberta added variations, clenching tighter around her son the deeper he was made to venture up her cunt, then wiggling her cheeks into the wall and wrenching the boy’s body about with her hot frothing nethers at their taut-flexed best. She was practically stabbing herself with him, even twisting the blunt “blade” of her dildo-boy at the apex of each thrust and squealing like a stuck pig in abject euphoria, having felt starved for this marvelous feeling for two very long days. But God, was it worth the wait.

            Kyle, for his part, did as he always did and only could, by locking his mind in a dissociative state to numb his way through the body-wracking pains and, even more egregious, the mind-bending abomination of what he was being made to do upon his every sense. Unfortunately, his focus was shattered each time the regular sliding motion was interrupted by another squeeze or an especially hard blow to the wall, which in Roberta’s case, meant her son could only hold off the anguish for a few seconds or less at a time before being reminded of exactly where he was and what he was to his parent now. As an undignified byproduct of all the friction and moisture, though, as was becoming habit, Kyle’s actual manhood began to betray him, reluctantly standing to a half-chub by sheer force of sensations.

            With sweat dripping down her forehead now, and her body ruddied hot-pink from exertion, Roberta didn’t let up the pace. If anything, she sped up, feeling the oncoming finish in reach, and made a greater effort to stimulate herself with rapidfire impalings, while ensuring to nudge her son’s cockhead along her clit with every other pass. Perspiration painted her lower back and broad jiggly pear-cheeks, eventually trailing down her crack and assisting in lubing the runway along with the already-substantial quantity of cum drooping out.

            A consistent slosh from within haunted Kyle with every pump now, and it seemed like a dam was ready to burst. Roberta’s moans reached a crescendo, and just before what would be the ultimatum, she waved her butt back and forth, clobbering her son with her cheeks and almost making the suction cups detach from the wall. Just before he could be liberated, however, the heavy sides of her lunar ass clamped back over the lower half of the dildo and caught it in place, while Kyle’s head was gobbled back inside. A final slide and a deafening smack with the wall brought the boy the deepest he’d yet gone tonight. The walls mercilessly bear-hugged from every angle, until it felt like the oily flesh of his mother’s cunt had molded itself skin-tight to the naked boy and his cock-prison, and Kyle had nothing left to breathe.

            And then she released. A wretched throaty sigh punctuated her fun. Like pulling a ripcord, Roberta’s pussy spat a horrendous volume of cum as it slid off its prize, of course leaving the boy in her splash-zone to take the worst of it, while she unstuck her sweaty ass from the wall and bowed herself into the mattress to huff and puff, regaining her strength and savoring the long-lasting wave of her orgasm. As all the tension in the woman’s frame could at last relent, her cheeks swelled and then shuddered when a vocal fart blasted from her asshole, gassing Kyle full in the face when he was already at his most vulnerable, with nowhere to go as an escape from the cloud.

            “Oops! So sorry, darling!” Roberta gasped, while withholding a giggle at her own clumsiness. She listened to his cute little cough, and tried not to blush too hard. “Accidents do happen, as we both know. Forgive me.”

            Only when the woman had recuperated enough did she turn meekly around, kneeling naked in the damp sheets, and observe her despondent boy still hanging in his awkward perch. At least he’d stopped wheezing at the stench of her toot. His little face was blank, ashen and glazed over with her various liquids, which Roberta took to mean he was just as quietly satisfied in the aftermath as she was. Cooing with adoration, she grasped the dildo and ripped it off the wall, which needed little effort after her butt cheeks and doggy-style loosened it up.

            She took great maternal pride in de-clothing Kyle of his wearable tool, humming a soothing lullaby tune to her boy while removing the domed hat, unhooking the ball-boots, and at last relinquishing the spine-straightener. With nothing to keep him forcibly straight now, the shrinker collapsed in a fetal heap in his mother’s palm, quivering as the panic attacks bubbled up like hiccups.

When at last he'd recovered enough to do something other than dry-heave, Kyle, caked thicker in his parent's cum and ass-sweat even than the crunched-in bedroom wall itself, turned himself over in Roberta's hand. He coughed until a glob of sour maternal ejaculate he'd swallowed came back up, and with his airways clear again, the tears began to flow in time with the full-body quakes of his trauma. How could anyone be expected to endure this, he wondered? No matter how hard he tried to numb himself to the nauseating disgust, the skin-chafing pain, the brushes with unconsciousness or worse, Roberta always managed to top herself.

            Every time the boy fooled himself into believing he'd found the secret to walling himself off in a mental prison, to become a lifeless puppet while his mom crammed him in and out of her cunt, slapping him between bloated ass cheeks that could've cracked his skull from the wrong angle, his expectations for just how bad things could get were raised even higher. The more repetitions of this body-fucking ritual he was forced to survive, the more plausible it seemed that accidentally perishing mid-coitus due to Roberta's clumsiness might not even be the worst thing. It was debatable whether any hellish afterlife really be so much more tortuous than the reality he was already "living," and living was a generous term.

            "M-Mom... please..." Kyle wept, sputtering for the impossible words that might convince her to have mercy. It wasn't just emotional duress stopping him from pleading now, but the fact that every syllable he spoke or breath he took made him taste the same skin-curdling fustiness of her vaginal juices which now clung to the insides of his tiny jaws. Still, Kyle soldiered through, wiping the tears just in time to see his mother's proud and adoring countenance beaming down at him. "I c-can't do anymore... n-not like this. Please, Mom. Please... s-stop this. It's gonna... I d-don't know how much more I can h-handle before I just... just..."

            "Settle down, baby. Just... breathe. You were wonderful, as always. No need to get all worked up now," Roberta interrupted with a purr, her own breathing still luxuriously labored in the aftermath of that explosive orgasm. Seemingly just a little concerned for him, though, her fingertips petted her shrunken son up and down her palm. She massaged her fluids into his skin while simultaneously making it even harder for him to speak, especially when she made a point of stroking across his face, an act that pushed another mouthful of her congealed pussy-gunk between his lips. Either in blissful denial or simply too euphoric after such a fantastic finish, the woman studied the helpless lad in her palm, overcome with affection. "Kyle, baby, does Mommy tell you enough how much she values you? Hmm, does she? I know I tell you that I love you every day in a million different ways... some ways better than others... but I truly do appreciate you more than I do anything else in this world. Understand? Especially when I think back to our relationship just six months ago, the way things were, I... never thought I'd be close with you again like before you became a man. Never thought we'd ever come back together. Then, all... this... happened, all this crazy serendipity that brought us back together as a mother and son, as we should be. And, gosh, baby... Mommy's smitten. What else can I say? I know sometimes Mommy asks a lot of you... I see it in your face, even if you are having fun and you love Mommy almost as much as she loves you, that you have a hard time now and again adjusting to all the changes in this new life of ours. But love can be hard sometimes, baby, and it should be. That's how you know things are solid in a couple, when they can do things together that are difficult, but that feel good and right, and in the end, everyone is better for it. Speaking of hard, though..."

            Having been lulled into a cum-drunken haze by his mother's creepily soothing love pronouncement, Kyle was startled back to life by the bracing sensation of Roberta's fingertips clamping fast around his cock. Sure enough, he was still sporting a half-chub as a result of such prolonged grinding in and out of those horrifically squishy confines, slamming his micro-dick into the ever-tightening walls of her smelly cooch until he was just as much on the verge of a rug-burn there as an erection. Of course, his thing was only barely standing now, pitifully propped up and hidden between her giant gooey fingerpads, but Kyle's mom was a master of making mountains out of molehills when it came to even the slightest hint that her boy toy was aroused by her vile assaults.

            "See what I mean, baby?" Roberta throatily whispered. She carried her son closer to her face, her nostrils flaring and hot breath fogging around him, all while twiddling his rod along the grooves of her fingerprints. Conveniently, she failed to notice him wince each time she slid his slippery manhood from side to side. "Sometimes you have to put in just a little effort to get lots of pleasure on the other side. What is it again the kids of your generation say? Work hard, play hard. That's it. Well, you worked so hard for Mommy, it's only right she returns the favor by playing with you too."

            "N-No... I d-don't want to-" Kyle wheezed. Disoriented at the motion of the giantess's fingers, not only on his member but spinning him around her palm to make it trickier to protest, the six-inch boy tried to reach for his mother's thumb and index finger cinched around his meager hard-on. Even when he got a grip, however, the leftover liquids from their squirt-happy ass-clapping romp made her skin too slick for him to hang on, and either way, Roberta's fingers alone were stronger than her little boy's whole self. She clearly wasn't taking no for an answer.

            "Nonsense! Now, what kind of lover would Mommy be if she was so selfish as to not ensure we both reached the finish line? Yes, as the big one around here, it's Mommy's privilege a lot of the time to have her fun first and foremost... and God, baby, how can you blame me for getting off too quick, when I've got a body like yours squirming up inside me... but I can't imagine anything crueler than giving you all that buildup, teasing and tempting you with Mommy's gifts, only to leave you with teeny tiny blue balls. Can you?"

            Kyle, meanwhile, could in fact imagine several things crueler than that. Unfortunately, his panic attack was in full swing now, making him more vulnerable than ever to being pinned down by Roberta's fingers. Plus, he felt so wretched from the sick flavors and even sicker conversation that he feared puking if he opened his mouth to stutter out another wail. Thus he fell silent and just shut his eyes, his last defense, which the woman took as tacit acceptance of the rewards Kyle had earned for himself. And she intended to deliver.

            In love with the sight of his passive naked body, "her" territory marked by her cum and sweat glistening all over the boy's skin, Roberta's broad smile narrowed into a ravenous O-shape. Extracting her fingers to reveal a still barely-stiffened mini-penis, the woman's thin lips wrapped easily over Kyle's shameful nudity, closed wetly around it, and proceeded to suckle. The tip of her tongue coyly sought out the tip, grinding slobbery tastebuds and flicking his shaft like a light switch, while her lips undulated the short distance along his shrunken length. Within three pulses, her fresh saliva was leaking down Kyle's waist. She was gentle to start, at least by her own estimation, though even a tender blowjob from Roberta was taxing for Kyle and his friction-averse dick, which meant that when his mother began to use more passionate force, his alarm only increased. The moist pressure from within the hot cave of her mouth was pulling so hard on his cock that Kyle's entire body was beginning to bounce up and down off his mom's palm, creating an unpleasant suction sound effect each time his nectar-glossed back was peeled on and off her clammy skin.

            Flopping like a fish in Roberta's hand from all the conflicting sensations, the boy soon had his limbs restrained by two more of the woman's fingers, leaving him only to writhe while she gave him the sloppiest BJ in recent memory, and there had been some real disgusting doozies before too. Little by little, she was winning this war of sexual attrition, and Kyle's member was hardening, albeit only by a few fractions of an inch in the scheme of things, but judging by the way Roberta's moans heightened in reaction, it was like she'd given herself a shot of ecstasy. In effort to stave off orgasm, Kyle actually opened his eyes: a last-ditch hopes of finding some inspiration to soften his erection. Pulled up so close to his mom's giant face, he didn't have to look very far. Those tangled frizzy brunette locks of hers was now matted by dried sweat at all angles against her forehead. Some of her messily-applied makeup had begun to melt down her middle-aged flesh due to the candlelit humidity and sexual exhaustion. Pores dotted her pumping cheeks like the surface of a used sponge. Just above her lips, of course, he spotted the same familiar nigh-invisible ultra-fine hairs that only became disgustingly visible when she had her greedy mouth around the boy's junk, which regrettably was becoming a more frequent occurrence.

            Despite his focus on these grotesque up-close elements of his unattractive motherly molester's features, Kyle discovered yet again just how persistent Roberta could be. She didn't seem to tire of sucking him off, even when he failed to maintain his hardness at first and started to shrivel again. Her confidence in herself, her sensual prowess, and his own imaginary devotion to her was simply too powerful. After nearly half an hour of relentless licking and pulsating of those wrinkle-lined pink lips around Kyle's reluctant chub, which meant accidentally rinsing his whole body in her whiffy saliva, his wriggling under her fingers became more intense during the final approach. His eventual orgasm was as meek and embarrassing as the foreplay, giving off only a defeated gasp and a last wrenching before shooting the prize into his mother's gaping maw.

            "Mmmm... oh, good. I knew you had that in you, baby. But... it did take you a while, didn't it? Usually you're practically bursting by the time I've had my turn. Mommy must not have warmed you up as well as she thought she did," Roberta said, leaning back into the strewn pillows, and cupping her son across both palms so she could address him. She lapped at her lips, savoring his liquid gratuity, then addressed him more seriously. "Dear, I want you to know that Mommy has heard your concerns... which is my duty, I think, given the nature of our relationship. And I've come to a decision."

            "R-Really?" After so much repulsive back-and-forth, Kyle was just beaten down enough to stupidly let new hope reach his heart for an instant. "Y-You mean you'll-"

            "Yes, baby, exactly. We've been going to the inter-size group therapy meetings for a while now, but I think as our relationship has evolved, it's only right to make sure our needs are being met in the correct environment, and... clearly... you're in need of some help. And it's Mommy's job to figure out exactly how to give you what you need. You're still my baby boy, after all, as you'll always be, and I have a certain responsibility as the one in charge of you. So, I've been browsing some of the other types of meetings the facility offers, and I've decided now is the time for us to switch over to the inter-size couples therapy meetings. I know, I know. It's the perfect solution, right?"

            Deciding to remain silent and quit while he was behind, terror gripped Kyle at this revelation. Then again, he supposed he had only himself to blame for believing his mom might finally see his tormented reactions and desperate resistance to arousal as signs that he almost preferred death to spending another week in her sex-craving clutches. Instead, his inability to get an instant erection from his own mother's blowjob skills had apparently earned him time in even more intensely intimate settings. The group therapy sessions were already bad enough, as Roberta had practically converted all the other members to her unique methods of parenting. He hardly dared to picture what awaited in the more advanced romantic settings of couples therapy. The unknown of it all kept the boy awake into the night, long after Roberta had blown out the candles and tucked her naked offspring between her tits to snore her way through slumber.

            Kyle recognized the room as the same from the standard inter-size group therapy sessions they'd attended for weeks, but from the moment Roberta took them inside for their first couples therapy meeting, he understood the mood was different. It chilled him to the bone, despite how overheated he got while stuffed between his mom's swollen cleavage so deeply that he could scarcely feel the bottom half of his body. Three couples filed in ahead of them, plus the therapist herself. The "larger" better halves of each couple, the ladies, were happily gabbing with one another in the minutes before the start time, while each holding their men at various shrunken statures and differing degrees of intimacy. After everyone else sat down, Roberta took the last of the available chairs, giving her son an anxious view of their fellow therapy freaks while still couched between her breasts, which jiggled when she trounced her ass into the chair so hard it groaned.

            The boy scanned the room, doing anything to keep his mind off the inevitable discomfort to come in this unholy space. One of the other women was actually surprisingly pretty, a smiley strawberry-blonde wearing a low-cut white top, probably in her mid-thirties, with a man roughly her same age perched on her knee at about ten inches tall. She bore a name tag reading "Betsy & Bill."

            Beside her, in stark contrast, was a far uglier lady who made Roberta look almost like a plus-size model by comparison. Her tag said "Olga & Wayne." Despite looking no older than her early-forties, this one projected the look of a crazy cat lady, with wild bride-of-Frankenstein hair, drawn-on brows, and schlubby clothes. Her man, whom she kept grasped awkwardly in her bony hands like a personal stress ball, was also six inches tall, and wearing a neon-orange jump suit.

            Past her was the therapist, cool and collected as ever, and finally in the chair beside Roberta was by far the most striking creature in the room, a woman whose personal gravity naturally drew Kyle's eye, and frankly she was a large enough being that if he was a bit smaller, he might've been literally pulled toward her like a planet.

            This woman, who'd written "JOANNE" in huge letters while squeezing the word "Tommy" at the bottom of the name tag like an afterthought, was a sight to behold. Makeup plastered on her face, and artificially colored jet-black hair, couldn't conceal the fact that the woman was nearing her mid-fifties. Joanne was tall, a few inches more in fact than Kyle's own six-foot-two mother, which might've made her appear like an athletic amazon, if the rest of her figure wasn't filled in by generous girth to account for this stature, and then some. One might've considered hers an hourglass figure, if the lower portion of said glass widened to a dome twice the size of the upper. Despite a modest neckline to her oversized blouse, Joanne's enormous cleavage positively overwhelmed the fabric. Weighty as full saddlebags, her breasts sagged like twin pendulums, and when the gigantic woman leaned forward, their doughiness squashed and malformed against her wideset thighs. This dip granted Kyle the most unimpeded view yet of Joanne's limitless cleavage, which stretched so long down her hanging tits, it almost looked like a butt crack. With her breasts unwound like distended accordions, deeply ingrained stretch marks became visible along her weight-stressed boob flesh, marked as well by age-wrinkles, freckles, and a few raised moles, not to mention a crisped red-tan from sunbathing damage.

            Still, despite the magnetic quality of such a mammoth rack to eyes as small as Kyle's, the feature he truly couldn't help but look upon like a passing car crash was her colossal ass. There was so much of it, packed skin-tight into her too-tight jeans, that the folds of denim-clad flab spilled well-over the edges of the chair on both sides. It was a wonder the seams didn't bust. Joanne's backside was truly a seat cushion unto itself, a source of begrudging respect as well as fear in Kyle, considering how much personal experience he with buttocks like those, knowing what they could accomplish on boys so fragile as him. Due to this bottom-heavy build, the woman was even more pear-shaped than Roberta, or perhaps more like a deflated November pumpkin, bulging widest in her lowest hemispheres. Since Joanne had marched just ahead of Roberta when entering the room, Kyle recalled the way her ample hips came close to brushing the frame of the door, and the little shimmy to the side she'd done just to ensure she cleared it without dragging her supple cellulite into the walls. Yet all this mass she wore with utter self-esteem, holding her head high and bearing a triumphant smirk on her face.

            There was so much of Joanne to drink in, it wasn't even immediately apparent to Kyle that she'd brought a partner to couples therapy, but upon spying that name tag again on her voluminous dangling breast, he realized there was a boy his own age, but half his already-pathetic size, cramped in the woman's clawed hand under the heavy roof of her cleavage. While tough to discern from this distance at such a miniscule scale, the young shrinker was the physical opposite of Joanne: a slender, shrimpy, visibly timid geek. Kyle felt for this Tommy, reduced to the size of a finger in the hand of such a towering woman with multiple assets that could whack him unconscious if she turned around too fast, but then again, the three-incher was allowed clothes while camped freely in Joanne's palm: both luxuries that Kyle was denied while in his birthday suit and jammed amidst his mom's perspiring jugs.

            "Scuse me, darlin', but I have to pay a compliment where it's due," Joanne spoke suddenly to Roberta, her cheerful nasally voice thick with New Yorker twang. Her twinkling eyes darted from Kyle's mother down to her cleavage, where the half-foot nudist resided. She pointed at Kyle, reaching almost near enough to prod him in the face, which would've surely pushed him yet deeper into the gulch of Roberta's chest. "This is an ingenious idea you've got here with that cutie so close to your heart. It looks so convenient! Just pop ‘em in there, and poof, you got both hands free again to get on with your life."

            "Well, thank you," Roberta blushed. She unsubtly adjusted her cleavage, then pinched her son around his shoulders and slid him an inch higher up the valley between her rack to make him more visible to their new groupies. "It's very handy to have a place to put him at a moment's notice, but where I can still keep an eye on him. I always insist on knowing exactly where and what my baby's doing at all times."

            "Same here, sister, and let me tell you, it's a real pain in the patootie sometimes with my boy," Joanne said. She held Tommy aloft, holding him down with her thumb so he didn't blow away like a leaf in the rush. "The circumstances that made my Tommy this small means he's stuck like this for... well, until the cows come home, I expect. See, he married young, then that bitch ran off with his money, but not before leaving him three inches tall... yada yada... and because you can only be registered to change sizes from one machine at a time... he's got no one to watch over him except his mama. Only, you can hardly stick a boy as short as him in your back pocket, can ya? I'd pop him like a cranberry the first time I sat down too fast! Can't really keep him in front either, either, since my family's always been big-boned, and I don't wanna risk him getting stuck in the wrong spot."

            By way of demonstration, the outgoing giantess ran a finger along the paunch of her love handles just above the place her pocket would've resided, then did the same over the hump of her breast where it came close to plopping atop her knee again. While swinging her hand about, her fingers closed around Tommy, who at three inches just had to go along for the ride, even when his mother nonchalantly pressed the chubby oval of her thumb over his face. Only Kyle seemed to notice his fellow Oedipal shrinker's panged gasping when the finger was removed, while the pair of plump giant mothers carried happily on.

            "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Roberta sighed, momentarily making her son believe she actually sympathized with Tommy, before the truth came out: "That must be terribly tricky for you to have to work around, when you can't make him big enough to endure a little more. Oh, I feel for you, dear. Joanne, isn't it? Your son is lucky to have you, though, especially after choosing a wife so poorly, it sounds like."

            "You're too kind. But hey, lookin' on the bright side of life, my boy always was trusting. Too trusting, if you ask me. And he paid the price for it. Now I can keep an eye on him twenty-four-seven, and make sure no more grubby-handed gals take anything else away from him," Joanne chuckled. She shrugged, then using her free hand, began prying the flanks of her immense breasts apart to make room between, an act that clearly took some effort, while gravity and the natural swell of her tit flesh ballooned around her fingers. "Thanks to you, though, now I've got the perfect compromise. A place where I know my little Tommy will be kept safe and sound, where he can't go worming around or getting stuck in places he shouldn't be."

            As Tommy was lifted up toward the mushy divide of his parent's intimidating mammaries, Kyle could see the fearful panic in the lad's face, even while he kept it bottled up under the thumb of his bubbly loudmouthed monster-mom: a sickness that Kyle himself knew all too well.

            "Forgive me for being forward, but if I could make a suggestion?" Roberta humbly added.

            "Certainly!" Joanne said, pausing mid-tuck, with her three-inch offspring dangled precariously among her trunk-like fingertips. Her eyes lit up. "We can use all the help we can get, believe me."

            "You might try freeing him up a little, if you know what I mean," Roberta innocently murmured, as though recommending an item on a restaurant menu. Her fingertip swirled on top of Kyle's head, roughly massaging him while inadvertently causing his little hips to gyrate against the dual mounds of oily flesh which confined him so tautly. "I can tell you it gets awfully itchy if you've got him in there with his clothes still on. But with skin on skin, let's just say there's a reason they teach new mothers about the importance of personal contact with their babies, and I think it's just as necessary now, if not more so, even though my baby became a little man."

            "Oh, I like it!" Joanne gushed. She suspended her little son before her eyes. "That's some genius idea, isn't it, Tommy? It'll be much comfier for you too, won't it now? And... see, I know this will stay between just all of us in this room, but things can get just a bit hot and bothery between my girls. Especially when the humidity's this high. Now, a little sweat never hurt anybody, but the last thing we need is Tommy slipping around and getting both of us chafed up. No, No. All right, Tommy sweetie, don't be shy now. Mama's gotta follow the nice lady's advice."

            The three-inch nerd was helplessly turned around in his mother's chubby fingers. When she swung him backwards to work on tugging down his pants, Kyle's shrunken peer glared at him, though of course there was nothing either boy could've done now. Joanne was much clumsier at declothing her child than Roberta, who had gotten so efficient she could have Kyle undone faster than a candy wrapper, but after multiple pulls at his tinker-toy-like outfit and a few muted squeals, Tommy lay nude in his mother's pillowy palm.

            "Aww, just look at Mama's little darlin'," she cooed. "You really are precious, aren't you, Tommy? To tell you the truth, I thought it might be a little awkward, you know: a mother seeing her grown son with nothing between us. But now that we're here, it's not much different than the view when you were little. Oh, you know what I mean. Really little, when you were too young to change yourself."

            "We've found it just brings us closer, personally," Roberta chimed in. She held her own naked boy up again for demonstration. "When there are no secrets of any kind between a mother and son, you can enjoy much more open communication in all things. Everything just... fits better."

"Speaking of fitting..." Joanne laughed, depositing her boy atop the long blubbery dip of her cleavage. Tommy's legs slid into the divot like quicksand, though it was still too tight of a space for his whole three-inch self to enter. Helpfully, his mom clutched her hefty assets, one saggy mass cupped in each hand, and spread the valley wider. Immediately her boy yelped and lurched another inch deeper into the jiggly trap, thanks to the lack of friction from his naked shape, then was frozen abruptly in place when Joanne released her grip and let her buoyant rack clap back around her son, so only his tiny head poked out the top of the crack, and the rest of him was fossilized in greasy cellulite. "Well, would you look at that. He's a perfect "fit" after all!"

            "You're quite a Cinderella!" Roberta joked, at which point both mothers shared a hearty laugh together, swiftly becoming friends, while their sons respectively wallowed in the clutches of hands and tits. Kyle was actually grateful when the therapist cheerfully called the couples' meeting to order, even knowing that the upcoming discussion of his life's bane would only lead to more horror. But for the moment, it was going to drive him crazy if he had to listen to his mom and Joanne deriving any more vocal entertainment from stripping their puny sons down and popping them into various crevices like human jewelry.

            The early rounds of the talks went much like the old group, only with the couples diving into their intimate relations more directly even than Kyle anticipated. All this airing of dirty laundry was sweetly coached along by the therapist, and encouraged with empathetic smiles from the other giant ladies present, which helped bring at least the female halves of the couples out of their shells. Kyle learned the thirty-something blonde, Betsy, was working on mending her relationship with her husband Bill, who'd agreed to be shrunken after he was caught cheating with three other women, as his own desperate bargain to avoid divorce and try rebuilding their marriage, until she could trust him with any responsibility for himself again. The little guy showed only teary remorse, seemingly rehearsed, while Kyle sensed that Betsy was really coming into her own as the top dog in their relationship. Meanwhile Olga the cat-lady wasn't married to her jump-suited shrinker Wayne, predictably, but had purchased the rights to "guardianship" of the little guy at a police auction, where after twenty years of major fraud, he'd avoided life in a cell by, ironically, choosing life in what Kyle knew to be a very different, and possibly worse, type of prison. Hearing Olga tell it, though, her little criminal was resisting his station by having the gall to turn down her last three marriage proposals.

            Then at last it came time for Roberta and Kyle to share, which of course meant the former got to have her say first, while the latter was couched on his mom's roomy thighs. The boy's pulse unhealthily hastened before she even opened her mouth.

            "Things are generally very good between my baby and I," Roberta said. "I'd simply hate myself if I led with whatever complaints I may have, when largely our relationship is better than it's ever been before. And Kyle deserves so much praise for all his understanding through these changes. Truly, I've grown closer to my boy than I ever dared dream I would again, since he spent most of his teenage years pushing me away. Now we're constantly finding new ways to connect, and bring one another happiness. It's marvelous, yet... well, the reason we're here is because we've been hitting some snags lately that I believe will only be corrected with the help of like-minded people."

            "Go on," the therapist murmured. "No one will judge you. Just tell us what's on your mind, Roberta."

            Every other woman present nodded in confirmation.

            "All right. Ours is... certainly not limited to an ordinary black-and-white parent-child relationship, if it ever was. My baby and I have "shared" ourselves in ways I honestly can't imagine doing with anyone else on Earth, all as a result of his poor choices and my desire to help him, with him at his proper size now. It was meant to be. And the closer we've become, the more fondly I've felt for Kyle in other more... intense ways. It's a different, better love that we've found for ourselves. We've "explored" that new love in more conventional marital ways, yes, but also deeper and more involved methods that, well pardon my language, really do it for me. I know he feels the same at his core. But now, just to come right out with it... since you all have been so welcoming... our sex life has been hitting a roadblock lately on Kyle's end. He's, well, gotten a case of stage fright, so to speak, asking for delays in our pleasure and taking much longer than usual to reach completion himself. I so badly want to help him overcome those obstacles, whatever may be causing them, and get us back on track. I only hope that's the right thing to do..."

            "Thank you for sharing, Roberta," the therapist said. "Openness is the first step to solutions in this room."

            "Darlin', not to jump to conclusions, but... I think it's really beautiful what you've built with your little boy, and you have nothing to justify to anyone," Joanne interjected. "You're a lovely couple. I don't think I'm stepping out of line to say that we all understand exactly where you're coming from, too."

            "Yes, you're both so precious," Betsy agreed, then with a sarcastic glance to her husband, added: "If everyone in a relationship cared that much about mending bridges, you'd see a couple in love on every street corner."

            "Taboo-shmaboo," Olga said with a wink. "Who wouldn't see things this way, given all ya been through together?"

            "I'm so glad you all understand," Roberta said, exhaling in relief and placing a hand over her heart. Notably, none of the shrinkers had spoken up, but it was plain to Kyle that his mother only cared for the opinions of the full-size humans in the room. "That's a huge weight off my shoulders. You have no idea."

            "Are you kiddin'? Roberta, first you give me a great tip before the session even starts, and now you're just opening my mind to the possibilities," Joanne said. Her husky voice was rife with inspiration. Openly sifting her cleavage like a sack of overgrown watermelons, she watched Tommy's head finally slip out of sight into the sweaty ravine of her bulbous chest, then reached in to pull him back up again. "Listen, I've been trying to find the way to make things click with poor Tommy here ever since that good-for-nothing skank-in-law ran off with his money and pride. The way we've been trying to make things work together up to now, we're still like a couple of puzzle pieces that don't quite fit, you know? But what Roberta and Kyle have... this is something I never considered until now. Maybe the answers have been right in front of us all along."

            Looking at her, Kyle could've sworn Joanne was perspiring more now than when they'd all entered the room. It took hardcore denial to reassure himself that she wasn't sweating in pearl-clutching rapture at Roberta's account, because that concept was just too sickening to handle.

            "If it was possible for us, I'm sure it's possible for you two," Roberta said with a smile. "Kyle and I started from such a difficult place, but we've come so far now. There's already so much love that I can see between the two of you, and we've all barely gotten acquainted."

            "Wow..." Joanne dreamily crooned. She kept on staring at the three-incher with his head sprouted up from between her slippery breast walls like a budding flower, her mind clearly awash with ideas now. "My boy deserves so much better than that lying low-down thief. And... Tommy, sweetie... I think it would be wrong of us to keep denying the goodness we'd find if only we followed the example of these nice people here. Don't you agree? There's so much more I can do for you, just like there's a lot I'm sure you'd have to offer your mama in return. After all, I'm as young and fit right now as I'm ever going to be in this life, and sure, maybe I'm not like those girls on magazine covers with all their hips and wrinkles erased, but they're all liars anyway, just like the woman who had the nerve to call herself your wife. It's not like you've got much say in the matter, anyway, dearie, since you're stuck like this... stuck with me... for the long haul, so why not make the most of it? You know, unlock our full potential? Let's face it, you've never been much of a decision-maker, Tommy, as anyone can see based on how you ended up before I took you back in... maybe it's time someone else made some decisions for you instead. For your own good."

            Throughout this substantial epiphany of Joanne's, as the words of wisdom rolled off her tongue, the rest of the ladies patiently waited, perhaps even a little inspired themselves, while every male present, Kyle most of all, only turned paler. Punctuating her declaration to Tommy, Joanne gave her breasts another slap from both sides that made them wobble like Jell-O molds, in turn vibrating the entrapped shrinker every which way, but still keeping him clamped in place.

            "By the way, I beg your pardon for going on and on while it's still your turn, Roberta," Joanne insisted, showing some real guilt for the first time, even after happily theorizing the benefits of turning her shrunken teen son into a lover. "I tend to get long-winded. Forgive me..."

            "Oh, there's NO need for apologies, believe me," Kyle's mom replied. Her fingers idly massaged her own boy's bare abdomen, coming dangerously close to groping below his non-existent belt. "I'm just so glad to have such supportive new friends, and so is Kyle."

            "I'd say we're all making wonderful progress," the therapist said, then refocused on the newest couple. "Roberta, I believe Kyle is suffering from the usual anxieties any new couple will have when finding their groove together, intimacy-wise, though perhaps to a slightly greater degree since he's still adjusting to his new size and your evolving relationship. Naturally, this is only a setback, and one that can be overcome, because there's so much love and devotion as the basis for your relationship, on both sides, as anyone can see."

            Kyle had no clue where the hell the therapist had gotten that impression, since it was literally impossible to keep the thousand-yard-stare off his traumatized face. Nobody objected to this assessment, though, and in fact all the ladies leaned forward with bated breath for more.

            "Exposure therapy is the answer, plain and simple," she continued. "However much you're becoming intimate as a couple right now, it's not enough yet, because Kyle still hasn't broken through that mental barrier, where he can allow himself to consciously enjoy it as well as unconsciously. But once it becomes a part of a constant routine, as necessary as eating, sleeping, and breathing, he'll soon get over his hang-ups."

            "We... make love nearly every day already," Roberta admitted, blushing like a schoolgirl.

            "That's certainly a good start, but to be straightforward with you, it's got to be not only every day, but multiple times daily. And not just the usual menu of activities, whatever those may be for you, but new positions, and especially foreplay. I find that exploring roleplays is a popular and highly effective method for couples."

            The group leader's soft silky voice hit Kyle like a ton of bricks, word by word. It terrified him so astutely, it almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Multiple dailies? New positions? Roleplay? Only fear-paralysis kept him from getting violently sick here and now.

            "That sounds perfect!" Roberta blurted. Giddy over the new possibilities laid before them, she began to tap her feet off the ground, in turn making Kyle quiver via the tremoring of her thick thighs, which he was in danger of slipping between. "Baby, isn't that a great idea? Oh, it makes so much sense now! Just think of it. We've been repeating a lot of the same positions recently... which, well, feel way too good to give up permanently, of course, but there are so many ways we haven't tried using you. Missionary, cowgirl, sixty-nining... granted, those will all take a little imagination, given how small you are, but it's all possible. I'd like to see what happens when we send you inside me backwards, or strap you in with my panties, or try leaving you "tucked" into my happy place for a long while first to let the anticipation build for both of us. Maybe we ought to try some new locations, too, like the kitchen table, or the bathtub, or the car..."

The rest of the group responded with rousing enthusiasm to Roberta's brainstorming, especially Joanne, whose rapt attention probably couldn't have been broken by a gunshot. She was diverted only long enough to reach for her cleavage again to retrieve Tommy, who'd sunk so deep into the plump pocket of her boobs that his mother had to insert her whole hand to find her three-inch boy marooned in swollen milkbag fat. He arose with ease, though, as the path was thoroughly slicked in sweat now. When Tommy's face reappeared, Kyle almost wasn't sure the guy was awake, but it was just dizzied revulsion: a feeling Kyle too knew well.

            "Don't mind us," Joanne muttered, merrily swaying in her chair. She circled a fingertip around her boy's head, then stroked his face with tenderness that showed her definition of their parent-child relationship was already changing. "And forgive my indelicacy, everyone, but I'm getting soggy at the thought of what my little one and I have to try back home now. Everything's become so clear, you know? Big or small, rich or poor... and my baby's definitely the small and poor type... every teenage boy needs his release. That's just hard-wired in there, and frankly, I'd be a monster NOT to give my Tommy that outlet. God knows I need it, too."

            "There's no such thing as "indelicacy" in this room," the therapist reassured everyone again. "The beauty of this place is that everyone has the freedom to express themselves, especially in a space meant specifically for couples, in whatever way they need to. And please believe me when I say whatever way they need to. You are safe here to show the hearts of your relationships, and learn from one another's graces."

            "C-Couldn't we... s-slow it down... too?"

            The mouse-like voice was so quiet and uncertain, none of the women even identified the speaker as Kyle until he'd finished. With all eyes on him now, some more disapproving than others, the therapist nibbled the end of her note-taking pen and observed the boy like he was an unruly toddler in need of coddling.

            "Well, that's one way to consider it, I suppose," she replied slowly. "So, Kyle, if I'm to understand correctly... you feel you'd be helped in your relationship with your mother by... reducing the very factors that have made it this strong in the first place?"

            "It's all h-happening too fast. I c-couldn't... can't... take even m-more. Please, if... we just t-tried doing less... just giving me a break before, I... I might..." Kyle stammered.

            He hated his own guts for the fact that once again his lowball offer involved merely delaying getting full-body fucked by his own titanic parent, not eradicating the incestuous disease altogether, which was the actual message screaming inside his brain. Still, he had a feeling that if he humbly suggested Roberta completely stop dressing him like a dildo, sticking him to the wall, and allowing her drooling cunt to scarf him up over and over, he'd be laughed out of the room. So he dropped to his knees in his mom's lap, hands prayerfully clasped, and looked around the group for even a shred of sympathy. He saw none, though, least of all from his mother, who just covered her face with her palm in sincere disappointment and near-embarrassment.

             "All right, I guess I can be the one to tell the poor kid," Joanne announced during the awkward silence that followed, and spoke directly to Kyle. "Baby-cakes, it sounds like you're talking from a place of zero experience. Backing away from your problems won't help you solve them, and in this case, it sounds like you're not putting in the same effort toward a union with your angel of a mama. You're still just a boy, a little boy in a lot of ways, even though you're a "man" according to the law, and sometimes you've just got to trust that Mother knows best. Roberta, darlin', I couldn't agree more with you, yet again. I've got so many ideas now to test out when we get home, I think I need to start writing them down before they slip away."

            Tommy reacted to this news by squirming more vigorously in the flabby vice-grip of his mom's boulder-sized boobs. Every time he'd manage to wedge one of his arms over his head, attempting to grab the pliable terrain, he'd fail and seep a little deeper into her sweat-lubed cleavage, only helped back up by his mom's klutzy fingers poking Tommy in the face just as much as dragging him back toward the light. Though he'd remained silent up to now, the boy finally began mewling in protest, mostly unintelligibly. Irritated, Joanne loudly shushed her son, quieting him by pressing her fingertip flush to his head, then jolted still, struck by an idea. Taking full advantage of the therapist's invitation to "express" their relationships however needed, the woman propped under her left breast with both hands and began to push up, until the doughy excess of freckled skin started to spill over the neckline of her top, hardly any of it contained by the bra cup now. Her brown nipple, stiffened to a point by arousal and goosebumps, peeked over the rim, and steadily revealed the wide bump-riddled halo of her areola. That overinflated tit, which somehow appeared even larger once it was exposed to the room, came unsheathed from its enormous holster rather easily thanks to the volume of sweat glazing her skin in a sticky shine and darkening the fabric of the bra.

            With half her rack now unashamedly displayed to the silent audience, Joanne briefly rescued her son from the suffocating constriction of her cleavage, only to instead lay his little naked body face-first over the rock-hard summit of her teat. It became painfully clear now that her areolas were so spacious, even when stretched spread-eagle, that Tommy wasn't tall enough to reach opposite edges at once. The stump of her nipple, on its own half the size of the boy, kept his spine unnaturally arched to compensate for the density of that sensitive tip pressed into his stomach. With her son positioned right where she wanted, Joanne then plucked the lip of her brassiere, tugging it up and over her breast. She only allowed it to snap back to place like a rubber band around her heaping breast once she was certain Tommy would be pinned to the middle, with his limbs flopped across her grooved areola and his chest quivering against her titillated nip.

            Inside, Tommy did his best to worm away. Sliding in any direction would do nothing to help him escape, but at least he wouldn't have his mom's erect udder jammed to his abdomen. Unfortunately, the act of his squirming only served to stimulate Joanne further, which in turned caused her nipple to pulsate ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but to a three-inch hormonal nudist with his cock squeezed up against goosebumped flesh oiled in fragrant sweat, it was enough to set off some sensory alarm bells.

            For all his pointless fighting, being cramped here in the muggy, dewy sandwich of the bra and Joanne's bosom, Tommy was starting to tingle. Even when his member hardened sufficiently that his mother could feel its pinprick depressing her cellulite, he kept on resisting and wriggling. After a minute of these mixed signals, though, Joanne was prompted to fish her fingers down into the cup again to bring out her feisty horned-up offspring and dangle his diminutive nakedness in front of her face.

            The puny eighteen-year-old found himself hung up close, face-to-mole with the darkened tan bump of what his gigantic mother affectionately called her beauty mark. This facial landmark was offset on the curve of her peach-fuzz-lined upper lip, above which Joanne's large nostrils flared and narrowed, rhythmically exhaling and causing nose hairs to billow toward the light like thin windsocks.

            "Sweetie-pie, why are you fighting this so hard?" Joanne grumbled, setting the wide landscape of nostril wisps, blonde lip hair, and prominent mole in gentle motion while her lips flapped. "Seriously, how hard is it to get with the freakin' program? We're among friends now. There's no need to be embarrassed about feeling the things you want to feel, even if they're new and scary at first. Everybody here wants you to see what you're missing out on, too. Look, I'm not blind, you're at that precious stage between teenager and full man, and you have needs! It's no secret that boys like you only have one thing on their minds every minute of the day, and that thing is SMUT! Yes, little one, even your mother knows about these things. I want it, they want it for us, and apparently this happy little boner of yours wants it too, so what's standing in our way? Really, shouldn't you be thanking me for giving you the push to try new things? Oh, mercy, this thing between your legs is getting bigger by the second, and yet you're still lying to yourself? What, did you bonk yourself on the head? Here, sweetie, let Mama kiss the boo-boo to make it all better, like she always has."

            Joanne's appeal to her handheld partner blurred into a moist mumble, when she promptly wrapped her undulating lips over her three-inch son's unwilling hard-on. They pulsed and puckered, sealing the sloppy smooch with a long wet squeal the tighter her mouth fastened around the shrunken victim's cock, all while the boy squirmed in his mom's quivering fingers. While what she was doing to Tommy technically was a kiss by some twisted definition, Kyle knew from similar experiences with his own parent that Joanne's actions had very little in common with a typical, healthy mother's wound-healing kiss on a child's scuffed knee. The giantess's French snogging on her offspring's pecker lasted an uncomfortable half-minute, during which the room stayed quiet aside from the sloshing and smacking of Joanne's amorous orifice, though other every pair of eyes in the room was attentively focused on the current speaker while she helped herself to another open-minded and therapeutic expression of her relationship status.

            "Just think about it rationally with me, Tommy..." Joanne said, jumping back into her persuasive argument without skipping a beat once she'd dislodged her plump lips from her thumb-sized son's crotch. Despite the togetherness of her statements, she couldn't suppress a goofy smile at seemingly discovering for the first time how simple it was to steal a kiss whenever she liked. "Let's just rip the Band-Aid off now and say it out loud, sugar-plum, ‘cause everybody else knows it too: you're just not going to have a normal love life. Look at ya. Three inches tall, no job, no house, no prospects, and no money. Who's lining up around the block for that husband, huh? Where are they? I sure haven't seen them come to break down the door while you've been back home with me, where you belong. First come, first served."

            "Y-You're supposed to be my Mom!" Tommy peeped. His barely-audible words slurred while he hung like a fishhooked guppy off his mom's fingers, victim to the unfortunate hormones at play after she'd kiss-suckled his family jewels. "You s-should want to help me fix this!"

            "What do you think I've been doing all this time, sweetie?" Joanne condescendingly chuckled. She rubbed her round cheek in contemplation, briefly contorting her features and inadvertently causing Tommy's face to brush tenderly along the paltry fuzz of her upper lip again. "I'm helping you right here, right now, to realize your full potential, or at least as full as you can reach after that bitch left you with nothing. Look, Tommy, face the facts: even if we could make you big-boy size again, what's going to happen to you the minute you walk out my door? You'll just fall back into another one of their traps. I hate to break it to ya, but girls like the one who broke your little heart and ran off with everything are a dime a dozen in this world. I can see exactly what you need, though. I always have and I always will. Here I am, prepared to keep on "raising" you forever while you're on the cusp of manhood, to care for you and provide for your every need, and even though you keep on pushing against your mama's love for who-knows-why, I'm still here, ready to give it all to you. Really shows you the caliber of mother you were born to, huh, sweetie?"

            From his own parent's grasp, Kyle could see the transformation happening in Joanne: a maternal evolution he'd come to know firsthand when it happened to Roberta, and now he was being forced to relive those early stages, only by a taller, plumper, and even more abrasive mirror-image of the woman who'd started this taboo revolution. He shivered, empathetically experiencing the same terrors and dizziness all over again with Tommy.

            "Case in point..." Joanne continued. "You never really did take to my boobies, now did ya, Tommy? All this goodness, right here in front of you, and you're not even tempted to peek? Such a waste. But, I suppose every man has his different vices. Well, I've got plenty of those for you to choose from, and more of them than you could ever handle on those other girls anyway. Listen, I didn't want to hurt your feelings at the time, sweetie, but that thing you married looked more like a stick-bug than a woman. Not a damn thing to grab onto, I imagine. I promise you'll never have that problem with me, though. I'm a whole smorgasbord for you, honey-pie. So if you're not a boob-man, I guess by default you must be more of an ass-man, huh? I may have packed on a pound or two since I gave birth to you, but at least it all went to the best places."

            She stood, causing the chair more incredible strain as it creaked and then rose by an inch, no longer weighed down under that planetary ass. With a final wink to her son, Joanne swung Tommy around to the backdoor of her immense frame, dangling him above the waistband of her fat-bulging jeans. Even standing up straight, the woman's overly-juicy rump threatened to pop out the top of her pants. Her free hand snatched the beltline and started shimmying it down an inch at a time.

            One slight tilt forward, and the swollen curve of her upper cheeks, plus the hint of a plumber's crack, peeked over the horizon of her jeans. The twin slabs of her ass jiggled like water beds with each tug on the denim and silk garments, liberating her puffy cellulite-rich flanks from their too-taut blue prison. With more of her heavy derriere on display now, everyone in the room, though especially Tommy due to his hanging front-row seat, was treated to a view of slick leftover sweat greased over the stretch marks and more than a few flinch-worthy moles that by comparison did indeed make the bump over Joanne's smile seem like a "beauty" mark.

            The giantess kept her boy pinched just an inch over the summit of her booty now, previewing for him the shadowy line bisecting the flab, darkened by years of friction against pants at least a size too small for her more-than ample assets. Her jeans and panties were worked down to the equator, letting more of her excess pudge hang over the sliding waistband, but even worse, giving her whole frumpy keister room to relax, widening the crack. Still, no matter how much of his mother's perspiring cheek-flesh he saw peeled slowly apart by the persistent wiggling of her beastly frame, Tommy noticed yet more fat-ass volume even deeper, especially at the center, where her cheeks were thickest and the light couldn't quite penetrate the horrific void. The boy had never been this petrified, frozen rigid as the beefy masses spread further apart below.

            "Yes, I do believe we have a winner here," Joanne affirmed to herself, roughly massaging her boy's stiff nethers with her thumb. "I have to give you fair warning though, sweetie. Not every ass is perfect, even though you might be tempted to feel that way, once you come around to our way of thinking... but I do tend to pass a little gas now and again. If I had to pick one flaw, that'd be it. But who doesn't fall prey sometimes, ya know? Just keep that in mind, sweetie, while you're busy remembering all your mama has done for you, and is going to continue doing, just as soon as you get your little head on straight."

            With that, Joanne's clubby fingers, and her helpless shrunken passenger, dove for the sweat-pickled divide of her crack. She didn't waste much time easing him in tweak by tweak like she'd done with her bosom either, but popped the three-inch lad betwixt her pale cheek meat with two jabs and one corkscrew-twist to power past the grossly inflated corpulence. Her determination showed, and even once Joanne had buried her son at the deepest possible depth of her backside trench, she scraped him down the curve, obviously hunting for a particular location using the diminutive naked body of her boy as a guide. Feeling a bump, when Tommy's little skull was massaged over the balloon-tie portal of her asshole, Joanne at last paused in this full-handed dig through her trunk, and smiled at each of the other couples in turn.

            Inside, the boy was mildly grateful to come to a halt, since at least it meant his mom couldn't wipe his face along any more of the itchy stray hairs that lined the deepest portion of her butt crack like deep-sea coral. Of course, right as his body met the sweat-dampened plughole of an anus the size of his head, Tommy went right back to wishing she'd treat him like toilet paper again and sweep his helpless three-inch self up and down the squishy curve, if only so he wouldn't have to experience such direct contact with the precisely last place on his mother's body he'd ever wish to touch, let alone bump his lips against while Joanne's clammy fingers clunkily rubbed him at the sweet spot. Despite still being in the same room with all the forward-thinking giant ladies and their gloomy mini-men, Tommy felt like he'd been transported to a rainforest with 200% humidity, and of course accompanied by fittingly animalistic smells, like acrid sweat and stale carnivorous flesh.

            Hoping his mother might think she got her awful message across sooner rather than later, the boy was accosted in the musky wall-to-wall glute canyon by a cacophony of high-pitched snickers from Joanne. On the contrary, rather than backtracking, she was savoring the tantalizing micro-sensations of her son tickling her taint hairs and especially the puckered drain, which was steadily loosening in response to the stimulus of Tommy's face. Then her fingers began to retract, and though the boy panicked at first, feeling his mother's chubby grip relent and leave him in the spongy embrace of her big-bottomed crevice, it quickly became clear that this move was not in error. In the absence of Joanne's hand to pry apart the chunkiest brawn of her cheeks, plus her panties and jeans yanking back up the way they'd come, Tommy was hopelessly overpowered by the encroaching valley of balmy, rancidly aromatic cellulite. The combined density of Joanne's caboose sealed him in the center as though slamming shut a very thick-spined book.

            With her living accessory in place and her ill-fitted clothing pulled back up, Joanne happily pounced back into her chair with even more confident force than she'd had upon entering the room, and that was saying something. The chair squeaked from the weight again, but was easily drowned out by her asshole itself, trumpeting a thunderclap of a fart that caused every man and woman of all sizes present to jolt in their seats like a horror movie jump-scare. As was only right, though, this enormous rip was experienced most egregiously by the boy forcibly camped right over the unholy source. Little space though there was to operate while coddled by the pudginess of Joanne's settled-in cheeks, the gale force of Joanne's gas blew her son's hair back, to say nothing of the brackish fog she'd just shotgunned into his tiny lungs.

            "Well, I think a hearty ‘excuse me' is in order. Apologies, everybody," the woman brassily declared, though a half-smile suggested her sorrow for the faux pas was scant at best. She rocked her stout hindquarters side to side in the buckling chair, once again alternately swelling and pancaking each abominable butt cheek as she wriggled Tommy into a more desirable place, baritone-giggling all the while. Joanne was plainly having the absolute best time of her life, a tragic contrast to the salty, fart-flavored hell her son was surely enduring for the first of many occasions going forward.

            Kyle watched every grisly detail of this affair with his heart in his throat, constantly believing he couldn't be more mortified, right up until Joanne proved him wrong again. As the couples "therapy" session wore chaotically on, it was becoming more difficult for the six-inch boy to see this kindred spirit of Roberta's as a human woman, and instead more like a mythic creature resting on its stolen throne, turned tubby from her own indulgence, but losing none of her queenliness.

            Joanne was a monster, just like Roberta, and today she'd finally been given societal permission to show her real colors.

            While he was grateful to be currently perched in his mother's hands rather than jammed rectum-deep in her bum like his fellow sufferer, Kyle knew it would only be so long before his own horny caretaker started getting fresh ideas, gleaning inspiration from Joanne in return for the philosophies Roberta had so freely given, and in doing so, turned Tommy's once-promising life into a sweat-tinged gaseous purgatory. Meanwhile, the therapist's advice still hung over Kyle like a storm cloud.

            "Oooh, is that your arm, sweetie?" Joanne shrilled, bouncing in her seat and causing her portly natural cushioning to wobble anew. She daintily placed a hand over her mouth, muting some irrepressible chuckles. "Just where do ya think you're reaching there? My, my, what a naughty little boy I've been raising after all. I knew he was in there somewhere. Just like you'll get to be in me somewhere now. Someone has some real kinks, no doubt about it! Not that I'm complaining..."

            This latest update on Tommy's apparent handsiness earned some entertained titters from all the other women, including the therapist, who at last raised a hand to bring order to the meeting, long after attentions had run off the rails and slipped up Joanne's ass crack.

            "All right, all right now," the moderator sighed, approvingly shaking her head at the whole circle. "Let's just take a moment and settle ourselves before we dive any deeper into these very-important issues. After all, there's still plenty of session left."

            "Actually, this may have been all we needed to get started," Roberta coyly admitted, combing her frizzy locks back over her ear. She fondled Kyle's cranium like foreplaying a dormant cockhead. "Really, we can't thank you enough for the treatment plan, and personally, I'm not sure I can wait much longer... neither can Kyle, deep down... to start testing out those marvelous ideas you gave us."

            "I second that!" Joanne practically bellowed. Looking to one another in almost-spiritual recognition of the motherly bond they'd formed through their shared beliefs, the pair of hyper-tall pear-bottomed women lurched out of their chairs and made their way for the door with a wave goodbye to the rest of their enthusiastic peers. The therapist, sporting a glint in her eye that suggested she had seen this decision coming, quietly smiled and bid them farewell.

            Kyle was planted back in his mother's boulder cleavage and nestled snugly in place. They marched behind Joanne and Tommy, which meant the six-inch tit-swaddled boy had to endure witnessing the pendulum-sway of this husky six-foot-four behemoth, and worse, know that interred at the center of that vast tush was an eighteen-year-old husk of a shrunken male much like himself. Joanne, obviously just as eager as Roberta to put this highly educational session into action, moved with some spring in her stride. Passing through the door, Kyle saw the woman's left cheek swung too far off-center, its blimp-like mass rebounding off the jamb and rattling the walls without so much as stunting Joanne's gait.

Tommy lay in an exhausted heap on the kitchen table, disoriented like he'd been lost in a desert for a week, even though he'd merely been crammed into the dank, follicle-scratchy sweat-trap of Joanne's crack for less than an hour. Staring hazily up the twin hills of his mother's blubber-lush rack resting imposingly on the tabletop beside him, their bloated shapes now only tokenly contained by her shirt, the boy tried to convince himself that the last ninety minutes were just a fever dream brought on as a byproduct of his depression at being left a three-inch wreck in his overbearing mother's care. Joanne had always been a hands-on kind of parent, yes, neurotically babying her shy nerdy lad well into his adolescence, but surely it was a bridge too far even for her to decide that they were better off not just as the world's most disgustingly close mother and son, but as a bona fide couple.

            Yet the reek of caustic anal sweat and foul sticky-aired farts couldn't lie, and they hung on Tommy's naked frame like a demonic presence, making it impossible to forget for more than a few bleary seconds at a time that Joanne had in fact pocketed her son between her ass cheeks, raked him through the kinky hairs, and pressed him head-first to her downspout right before she cut the cheese. Barely an inch away, within reaching distance in fact, his giant mother's hardened left nipple pressed insistently through the cloth as though tempting Tommy to snatch it. He couldn't have done so even if he wanted to, though, being so worn-out internally and externally from the fusty ride home in Joanne's plus-size underwear. With that erect teat reaching for him, surrounded by the prickly ring of a pepperoni-sized areola that steadily poked out from the falling neckline of her shirt, not to mention the smog from Joanne's fresh sweat and pungent gas still clouding the vicinity, there was absolutely no denying that everything in the last hour had happened exactly as Tommy fitfully recalled.

            "Sorry, sweetie. I almost forgot how warm out it was. But, I'm not a miracle worker, ya know? Pigs can't fly, bears shit in the woods, and big butts get a little ripe when it's toasty out. That's just how the world spins," Joanne gabbed. She drummed her thick-trunked fingers on the table next to her son, obviously contemplating scooping him back up for even more creative misery, but restrained herself, instead balling a fist. "And, well, fair's fair: it was a little bit of a struggle with the gas, wasn't it? Yes, I know, how SHOCKING for a woman to actually admit she has to toot now and again! Bet your dearly beloved ex-wife would never had been brave enough to say that out loud, would she? Trust me, Tommy, an honest woman will keep you honest, too, and that's always a good thing. Plus, it's better to just let these things out, not hold ‘em in. That's just asking for some medical condition to sprout up. Still... things got a little hot in there, and I'm nothing if not an understanding partner, so let's get you good and squeaky-clean."

            Tommy found himself impatiently clamped back between his mother's grabby fingertips. With her opposite hand, she tugged on a length of her shirt, which coincidentally allowed even more of her breast heft to spill out the top, and began drying her son off with extreme prejudice. She toweled his every nook and cranny, though since most of the fart-infused perspiration from Joanne's crack had already dried in a waxen glaze around Tommy's body, she didn't so much clean him off as just more firmly smooth the sickening textures into his skin like a wine spill into carpet. Satisfied with her work, the boy's gargantuan keeper airlifted him up to her simpering face.

            "Well, sweetie, just what are we going to do with you?" Joanne boomed.

            "We g-gotta find a way to m-make me big again!" Tommy shrieked in such a high pitch his mother could scarcely understand. Even when he swallowed enough of the scream for coherence, he still sounded on the verge of a breakdown. "I c-can't do this! I can't l-live like this, Mom! It's c-crazy! I d-don't know how we can fix me, b-but there have to be ways, there just HAVE to be! E-Experimental, or unregistered... shit... oh, God, oh, God..."

            Joanne threw her head back and cackled, her amusement echoing through the whole house and causing her tits to heave. Shaking her head, she looked on her boy with genuine pity, like he was a lost lamb wandering out of its pasture.

            "What do ya want me to say, sweetie? You had your chance to live that way before, and I'm sorry to say, but you blew it. Just come to terms with reality, Tommy: you got yourself into this mess, and now it's my job to keep you from getting yourself in any deeper. In deeper trouble, I mean to say, not deeper... well, we'll get to that soon enough. My point is, you've got it good here. Scrawny and un-masculine as you might've been back at your old size, those things don't matter when you're this small. The only person in the whole big scary world you have to impress now loves you just the way you are, and also thinks you're cute as a button. In a lot of ways, really, this is a major improvement. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, anyway? I'm the one who's going to protect you, and feed you, and nurture you, like I always have, only better than before, because we're closer now, thanks to those wonderful folks at the clinic. And in return? All I ask for is that you help... ease my stress from time to time. Now, can you look your mama in the eye and tell me honestly that's really such a bad deal?"

            Throughout this speech, the same hand had Joanne used to primp up her shirt for sweat-toweling then ventured into the broad cup of her bra, inviting out more of her breast to play. The more stretch-marked surface area she had to grapple, the more aggressive she became in kneading the obese blob of her chest. By the time Joanne reached the end of her eerily logical appeal to her gutted little son, she was full-on tweaking a hearty brown nipple thick enough to be her pinky tip, roughly circling it in her grasp until her shallowed breathing reflected her heightened arousal.

            Though Joanne had withheld just enough shame that she hadn't yet spat the revolting truth in Tommy's face, the fact that she was stimulating her naked teat while grasping him in the other hand and licking her lips with a starved look in her eye told the boy all he needed to know. He vibrated with horror in her sweaty fist, trying and failing to fathom the nauseating extent of what his own mother was suggesting be his end of their new unbalanced parent-child bargain. Not even Joanne's stubby fingers could clench tightly enough to fully halt the little thing's quivering, though she seemed only further encouraged by the sensation of his movement in her closed palm: a preview of what he might feel like pressed flesh-to-flesh against more "sensitive" areas.

            "M-Mom, you... you c-can't be serious..." Tommy uttered, quietly stammering so he didn't accidentally vomit mid-sentence as he was haunted by visions of his possible barrier-pushing relationship with his mom and regions on her tubby body he hoped to never see with his own eyes, let alone touch. Though his stomach turned inside out at having to play along with her logic, the boy could tell it was the only way he'd reach Joanne in her sexual madness: "I... I'd b-be way too s-small! It'd n-never work, y-you'd... you'd LOSE ME in..."

            "Oh, darlin', did I really raise you to have such little imagination?" Joanne chuckled, shaking her head as though her "grown" son was still a kid tying his shoes incorrectly. "Yes, you are VERY small, but there are plenty of ways around that. Ways I admit I've been... thinking very carefully about all the way home, and heck, maybe even before that. It just took those clever folks at the clinic, especially Roberta, to open my eyes to what was in front of me all along. Point being, you'll be able to pull your weight around here, no matter how little space you'd take up in the places you're needed most. All it'll take is a little help. You know, like a friend. Let me show you..."

            Reluctantly releasing the hold on her blubbery tit, which flopped unceremoniously back onto the table and quaked the surface like she'd dropped a marble plaque, Joanne reached for her nearby handbag, and placed her son back down. She hummed while rooting through the contents. Thumbing past makeup cases, her fist giddily emerged from the base of the purse with something somehow even more disturbing to Tommy than the view of his mom's exposed moon-pale fat-sagging breast: a flesh-toned, creepily realistic dildo, nearly indistinguishable from the real thing except for a suction cup at the base, and the fact that the monstrous thing was triple Tommy's height.

            Raising it like a scepter overhead, Joanne slammed the thick shaft of the toy cup-first toward the table, mere inches away from her shrunken offspring. Though it would've missed him anyway, the victim dove to the side, as his mother affixed the obelisk of a giant faux-penis to the table, leaving it to wobble and frighten her three-incher to his core.

            Tommy only had a moment to stare up at the rubbery tower in disgust, realizing that there were some life-like details too organic not to be real, namely an uneven sheen of pussy juices glazed and hardened onto the surface, not to mention numerous dark curly cunt hairs cemented in place. Some of these sexual artifacts from Joanne's sloppy body appeared uncomfortably recent, perhaps even as fresh as this morning. Luckily or unluckily, Tommy wasn't given long to observe the gruesome after-effects of his lonely mother's private activities, before her fingers were scooped at his back again, railroading him straight into the shaft. Squirming in protest of course did nothing to keep the lad from face-planting into the erect sticky upright pillar of his mom's gargantuan dildo.

            "Hmm, yes, I think you'll get along fabulously with Big Ben here," Joanne drawled. "All we'll have to do is get you better acquainted, nice and securely. And as fortune would have it, Roberta was kind enough to lend us a little glue from her own "bonding" activities with her son. See, dear, everyone finds a way to make things work, no matter their differences, so long as love is there."

            While keeping her boy hugged to the gummy tower, rich with the scent of old arousal, Joanne reached back in her purse and extracted a small bottle, uncorking the cap and holding it threateningly over Tommy's writhing head.

            "She really swore by this stuff, I'll tell ya that. Says it's super heavy-duty, but extremely safe for skin, lasts for hours, and simply dissolves a few hours later. But I highly doubt we'll need you and Big Ben stuck together for that much time. Well, on second thought, we'll see how things go. I may have more of an appetite than even I can predict. I didn't quite have time to work out all the kinks this morning, and either way, I'd wager that sharing this experience with someone else... my baby boy... is going to transform my routine with Big Ben. Sees, he's a useful thing, a good listener, and can reach my deepest corners, but he's not... well, he's not you, Tommy darlin'. Sorry, by the way, sweetie. I forgot to give him a good rinse this morning, though like with anything that gets regular use, as he does, eventually it's just going to stay dirty all the time anyhow."

            With his face smushed into the unforgiving rod-curve of Big Ben, Tommy was already well-aware his mother had made no efforts to cleanse her sex toy after evidently ramming it deeply and repeatedly into her pussy this morning. Judging by the fact that cum and pubes were glued on all the way down to the hilt, Joanne's no-doubt spacious tunnel had succeeded in fully consuming the imposing dildo like a popsicle. The smell of her sex clung to it as richly as the dried fluids themselves, and while the flavor wasn't sour or even repulsive like Tommy had worried, the aroma was still sharp and heady as anything he'd experienced before, like some new drug that lulled him into a docile enough state to stop pointlessly worming against Joanne's fingers.

            "So, I hope Mommy's smell on there isn't too much for ya, Tommy. After all, it's just a part of me... maybe a different part than you've smelled before, I'll give ya that, but still something natural and good. It's just another way for Mommy to say she loves you, though. You can understand that, right?"

Tommy blinked, unsure whether it was worse to answer yes or no, so he remained silent, too terrified of his lips accidentally brushing the tacky wall. The funk wrapped around him in a dense micro-fog, just as the little guy's arms were gradually made to embrace the trunk-like foundation of the dildo itself. Somehow it was even more demoralizing to have his tiny nose pressed up against a cylinder that had very recently ventured inside his mom's crotch, only to discover that it wasn't the grossest-smelling object in the universe. That he could almost tolerate it. As Joanne's palm adjusted its position at his back, one of the loose pubes tickled over Tommy's cheek like a pussycat's whisker.

            "I suppose the hair might take a little gettin' used to, also. But for the record, darlin', there's nothing wrong with a woman keeping her carpet. I'm willing to bet your ex-bimbo had everything lasered off like some kind of freaky alien mannequin, so we'll have to re-educate you a little on what looks and feels natural on a real woman, but trust me on this one: Everyone, some of us more than others, is meant to have a little runway strip down there, and I expect after some experience, you'll come to appreciate it more than something smooth as a cue ball."

            "P-Please, Mom... t-this is going so fast. C-Can't we just... stop... and t-talk about this?" Tommy moaned, wrenching his head as far from the dildo as he could before Joanne nudged him cheek-to-pube with it again.

            "Oh, I guess you may have a point there, sweetie-pie. It's possible I'm getting ahead of myself here," the woman miraculously agreed, setting the glue bottle back down. "We'll work ourselves up to this stage. Neither of us is going to have much fun if you haven't been trained for it first. I admit though, it'll be tough to hold back, because seeing you getting all snuggly with Big Ben and feeling you in the groove of it already with your precious little arms and legs... it's got me just about ready to burst in my pants, here and now, from all the anticipation."

            Gob-smacked at his mother's upchuck-worthy audacity, the boy's jaw dropped, which was unwise considering his lips were still hovering a millimeter from a heavily-perfumed, cum-sticky citadel of a used dildo. Upon momentarily kissing his parent's gummy sex toy in his appalled state, Tommy resumed trying to squirm out of Joanne's clutches.

            "Sorry, baby, did I offend your delicate little sensibilities?" the woman boomingly cackled, as though buzzed on the situation itself. "Not used to hearing your mother talk that way, huh? Maybe you've just imagined me only one way, never letting yourself see the possibilities. I'm not some fuddy-duddy, ya know. I'm in the prime of my life, just like you are in yours. And the fact of the matter is, Tommy, that your Mommy is a squirter. I always have been, even when I first discovered how to play my instrument, so to speak. It does mean a little extra mess, but it's only because I feel every activity more passionately, as any lover should. And you always did want to sit in the splash zone when we went to the dolphin shows at the zoo, darlin'. Well, consider that your practice for this. Say, that gives me an idea!"

            Now limp as a zombie in the sandwiched space between his mom's clammy fingerpads and the musky hyper-real dildo, Tommy wasn't keen to learn whatever idea had been sparked in her mind by explaining to him how her ejaculate only emerged in a vile spurt. However, he didn't have much say in the matter, as Joanne's mammoth ass shoved her chair back so she could stand. The woman did at last cease cupping him against her nine-inch toy, for which he was grateful, but Tommy had a feeling he'd soon wish he could go back to simply wrapping his meager self over Big Ben in the open air. Joanne lumbered off, her purposeful footsteps quaking the table and her son with it. He could see her in the living room, fumbling with a drawer then speedily returning with her sewing kit in hand.

            As his humongous mother came charging back, now with her broad waist roughly even with his lowly shrunken eyeline, Tom found himself staring ominously at the giant bulging cameltoe pressed plump to her overly tight pants like an extra set of cleavage unto itself, only with an even more grossly generous division between the fat lips. With each step back toward him, her thick gapless thighs swishing against one another, those denim-veiled flaps of vaginal flesh were manipulated into alternately swelling, one side then the other, in time with her thudding strides.

            And if this view wasn't intimate enough for Tommy, as well as panic-renewing, Joanne promptly set the kit down and proceeded to all but rip her jeans off. The button nearly popped off in her haste, the seams straining as she tugged them down her pillowy cellulite, until the pants were tangled around the giantess's ankles, leaving her in a pair of shape-revealing panties far too scant for a woman of her age and tremendous bulk.

            Tommy's eyes bugged so wide he couldn't have closed them even if he tried, though he desperately wished to do so. While his mother was technically wearing underwear, she may as well have had a piece of tissue paper strung over her nethers, for all the coverage it gave her. The forest edge of her pubes, just as brunette and swirly as the leftovers stuck to the dildo, spanned well past the borders of her panties, the lower samples flush with her thigh flab and the upper rim practically reaching her belly.

            Though Tommy's experience with pubic growth was limited to internet porn, it was by far the hairiest box he'd ever seen, close-up and expanded as though it had been blown up on a movie theater screen, and yet he'd only seen the nasty fringes so far. Since her cameltoe was prominent enough to press through her pants, the underwear was practically gulped between her chunky lips, the silken fabric outlining the exact geometry of her pussy like a second layer of skin. Even with her crotch squeezed between such roomy thighs, those hefty lips managed to kiss their way through the thong and be seen by their spooked little audience. He only wished his mom would pull the jeans back on, and in fact would've been willing to continue the stare-down with her clothed cameltoe then in exchange, but of course this wasn't a negotiation, and already Joanne was doing her best to seductively pluck her underwear down her enormous legs.

            Once removed, the panties were laid gracefully flat on the table behind Tommy. His eyes followed them, if only to avoid seeing his mother's ballooned privates in the bare hairy flesh, but this seemed to be Joanne's plan anyway. She heavily reseated herself while her fingers snatched the boy up again and transported him to the center of her underwear, spread like a picnic blanket. Tommy felt the moisture from the moment his naked body contacted the worn-out panty folds, realizing that not only was the majority of the underwear's frontside at least partially wetted, but that it was most darkly and gooily weighed down with her ooze right where Joanne intended on splaying her miniature son.

            Thankfully positioned on his back, Tommy was treated to the feeling of warm slovenly gunk sponging out of the fabric like syrup when his mom pressed him into her plus-size undergarment.

            "Now you can feel just how turned on you made your Mommy, baby," Joanne announced, making her son feel smaller with each repeat of this sickening pet-name. As she spoke, she picked through her sewing kit, producing a needle and thread. "Such a naughty boy. Yes, you. It's all your fault, really, that we're doing this in the first place, when you think about it. If we didn't click so well, we'd just be stuck together, trying to learn to live in disharmony, ya know? Sounds AWFUL. No, I'm certain this is going to fix every hang-up there's ever been between us. Oy, I can't even wait now. My muff has just been hankerin' for a taste of you ever since the session."

            While she rambled on, Joanne licked the string to fit through the needle, expertly pinned her son's limbs precisely where she wanted, and began threading new bindings over Tommy's stem-thin arms and legs, then another elastic layer over his chest for good measure. Again she carried on humming a familiar happy tune the boy had gotten used to noticing from her around the house over the years, but never dreamed he'd be hearing its refrain while Joanne literally sewed his body into her cum-gushed panties right over the wettest itchiest fluid patch. In this peaceful calm before the storm, Tommy just managed to catch his breath, and though it became harder to move with each loop of string his giant mother used to lash him into her parachute-scaled ejaculate-laden underwear, he knew it was now or never to speak up for a last word before judgment.

            "M-Mom, just think about t-this... talk to me... y-you only met those p-people today, and n-now you're j-just doing the same c-crazy things they are..." he whimpered. "This is so insane, Mom, it's just f-fucking bonkers. W-Wait, PLEASE! Y-You said I was used to a s-shaved... you-know-what... but we never even had s-sex before she ran off with everything, honest! I'm s-still a virgin. A-And... and you're g-gonna take that away from me... y-you, my... my MOM. Oh, fuck..."

            "Now you're talking some sense, honey-pie. Well, not the majority of what you said, anyway. I just mean the last part... you know... ‘oh, fuck'... it's a very good suggestion!" Joanne replied, kind yet totally unmoved by his groveling. Her beaming smile widened with what seemed to be genuine motherly pride. "Now, we're not going to get ahead of ourselves, just like I promised, but you are going to get a sample of what's coming to you, just like I'm going to cum to... well, I won't spoil the surprise. It's moments like this that I'm reminded I raised you well, darlin', which makes it all the more unfortunate that certain parties had to go and ruin your chances of a conventional life, but ya know what? Conventional never really worked for us anyhow. Bottom line, you're barely a man, in many ways still a boy, absolutely stinking with hormones and testosterone... and up to now, with no good place to spout them off. You should be glad that I'm finally going to give you the release you've obviously been so desperately in need of since that bitch screwed you over. At the same time, you'll have a head-start on your new duties: head being the most important word there. Instead of all the clumsy, pleasureless first-time nerves you would've had to suffer with the hairless twat on that hairless ex-twat of yours, I'm giving you the fast-pass to being grown-up, even though you've only grown-down. Mommy is going to bury you in all the pussy you could possibly handle, and much more than that even. But a little extra is always better than not enough, as I always say."

            To punctuate her point, Joanne flattened her palm against the doughy brunt of her boob and then the paunch of her gut just above her nude lower half, while Tommy was left to fidget uselessly in the iron-taut lining of his mother's skilled seamstressing work. His whole backside was dampened on the cusp of pruning thanks to the volume of cum.

            "This really is a marvelous trade-off we've stumbled upon here, darlin'. You, exploring new horizons and learning just how incredible real carnal pleasure can be, and me, passing on my wisdom and getting some of the relief I've been denied for so long by undeserving men, when the boy I wanted and needed all along was right in my reach this whole time. Shouldn't a hardworking, smart, beautiful, full-bodied, experienced woman especially get to savor the same outlets as her horny little son? Oh, you can't imagine how much I've been aching for this, sugar-plum, for you," Joanne continued, checking her handiwork and prodding the needle's point precariously close to her naked shrinky's vulnerable limbs. The longer she spoke her new philosophy, the huskier and more slurred-together her words became, like chanting a spell. "And when it comes down to it, if you're going to live under my roof, you're going to do your part, one way or another. No son of mine is going to be a moocher. And seeing how you're the only man of the house now, teeny-tiny man or not, this really is the best way for you to contribute something. I have to believe it's a much better deal than mopping the floors or dusting the countertops. Give a little pleasure, and you'll get a lot back in return. That's the deal. Easy-peasy. Now, let's see how well you fit."

Following this address, Joanne rose again from her chair with a hippo's klutziness, then hooked her thumbs into opposite edges of the strained waistband, and let it all fall into place, so Tommy was now lovingly crucified on the interior of the soggy panties, his three-inch body aligned perfectly with where his mother's slit regularly dumped its raunchy contents. He and the panties descended toward the floor, allowing the woman to jam her feet through the openings, and once Joanne pulled the band into formation so it could stretch around her rotund frame, Tommy found himself rising up in a vertical canyon of lardy thigh flanks. At the top, where those pudgy quads united, was the ginormous mushroom-cap-like shape of Joanne's ass, while in the center of it all was her hair-rampant pussy maw already unspooling nectar and parting its lips to receive a gift. Only now did it occur to the boy that when his mother suggested they see how well he "fit," she wasn't talking about clothing. Now with no part of that unkempt bush corralled by the panties, but supremely matted with juices, it became clear just how expansive the hair's reach was. Not only did it crawl nearly past the beltline, but from below, it almost extended to the yawning fault line of Joanne's disgusting butt crack.

            "M-Mom, please... j-just listen to me... I'm y-your son... and you're r-really going to... g-going to? T-To..."

            His blubbering didn't halt the inevitable. Inch by inch, Tommy was drawn in higher and closer to his mother's hindquarters, feeling the panty threads tugging under his back as they were made to cover more surface area, where the giantess's thighs widened and the spare-tire inflations of her fanny cheeks required an especially focused tug to overcome. Joanne did this with confidence, though, only taking her sweet time to give her son the chance to acclimate, though not even slowing the journey to a century could've prepared Tommy for the fact that his view was gradually relegated to a terrifying sky of his own mother's muggy, hair-speckled, flab-riddled undercarriage.

            "MOM!" he squealed as loud as he could, with tears and croaking volume his only remaining weapons. "PLEASE! I CAN'T DO THIS!"

            "Oh, darlin', you really are trying to get me going more, even right up to the minute we begin, aren't you? Now, that's good manners, if I ever saw them. I always did like a man playing hard to get. The harder he plays, the harder I intend to get him off later on," she cooed. "All jokes aside, though, there comes a time where we can just be honest with each other. And to be honest with you, baby, Mommy's just GOT to get some satisfaction here soon, or she's going to bust. Do you know how many mothers a year that undue stress kills? Well, I don't know the exact number, but it's quite a few. It's the silent killer, you know. And if anyone's going to be a lady-killer, Tommy sweetheart, I much prefer it be you. In a manner of speaking, of course."

            The waistband of Joanne's panties arrived at the usual stretch marks and imprinted lines they'd made from squeezing her muffin-top girth, meaning also that Tommy had reached the summit of the roller coaster hill, only there would be no ride back down. It was time. Though the one-sided battle was over, and his mother had soundly won, the boy continued screaming with decreasing clarity until the final moments Joanne could hear him, half-crying and half-shrieking. By now, that animalistic pussy was hovering just an inch from Tommy's suspended body, slobbering cunt goop a dollop at a time, which rained around and especially on top of the shivering trauma victim. He hadn't even physically touched her drooping labial flaps, but already the boy was dripping with her erotic runoff.

            All Joanne had left to do was liberate her thumbs from the waistband, which she did without any extra foreplay. Her panties snapped into place, and instantly silenced Tommy's wails when he was lurched into the furry hold of her pinkish arousal-swollen genital lips. Darkness, heat, miasmic liquid, scratchy hairs, and skull-spinning womanhood fumes all enveloped Tommy's helpless frame at once.

            Joanne slumped into her seat so hard the furniture's legs nearly gave out, but she had no choice, given that the long-awaited requiting of her ravenous pussy with her shrunken son had nearly made her lose control already. To ensure he was centered exactly where she desired, Tommy's lovely head aligned with her clit, the woman gave a throaty moan that lengthened to a sexual roar as she fingered his little shape through the underwear. Fresh cum dredged around him like a cookie-cutter, and the jungle of slick hairs chafed the lad's poor face, as he was nestled yet deeper into the fatty petals of his mother's crotch.

            Getting comfy, Joanne nuzzled her plump thighs in closer, so her nether-toy was clamped even more harshly to his new hangout by encroaching walls of flab, then grabbed a half-finished dime store romance novel from the table. As several previous pages were mysteriously stuck together with drops of dried goo, she was careful not to tear them while thumbing back to her spot.

            "Might as well get cozy, baby. Things are seriously heatin' up in here. In the book, I mean. Well, at least for now," Joanne announced, and let herself vanish into the steamy narrative, while her child was similarly immersed in sexuality, only more literally. Still, it didn't take long for both mother and son to be short of breath.

            "Oh, God... yes, that's right, Gladys... push him onto that table. He already knows what's going to happen," Joanne murmured into the book. "Yes, tell him exactly who's in charge here. You're the boss, he's just the part-timer getting volunteer credit for his silly football scholarship. He's nothing without you."

            Tommy could only pick out pieces of his mother's increasingly husky speech as she sped through the chapter to reach the frequent juicy bits, though the only sign he really needed to understand Joanne's feelings on Gladys and her hunky employee was the buildup of sensual humidity that soon turned gloopy. Hatefully scratchy as the pubic topiary was all around him, especially as Joanne twitched in response to every romantic development, the gradual rise in dewiness of her hair by a combination of sweat and pre-cum quickly made Tommy wish his mom's pubes were instead as dry as possible. At this point he'd have happily allowed the glen of her muff to turn desert-dusty, scraping over his face like barbed wire, if only it would spare him this moisture deluge slowly but surely sopping its way through the hairy dam. Unfortunately though, Joanne's hair remained every bit as uncomfortable to the sensitive three-incher, yet with the added bonus of sticky gunk trickling through with its accompanying haze of bittersweet aroma, so there was nothing to bargain for anyway. The wetter the woman became, the tighter the cameltoed panties and her sloppy pussy lips bound Tommy in place, gluing curly hairs like hellish chains to his spread-eagle shape.

            "Mmmm. Oh, yes... that's exactly what he needs, Gladys. Give it to him," Joanne chanted as though in a trance. "He may be captain of the team, and he may play with all those stupid sluts on the weekends, but when he's in your shop, you're in charge, and he's just a little boy. A little boy who's got to be shown how a real woman handles things. Yes, push his head down where it belongs... pet him for being so cooperative... show him there's nothing to fear. Let him squeeze the fruits and taste their juices. Bury that mouth of his where it belongs. Yes, keep your fingers in his hair... don't let him pull back. Not until you finish with him."

            Joanne's running commentary was only encouraging her mood, getting her hotter under the collar and even hotter between her obese thighs. Her hips moved to mimic the descriptions of Gladys advancing on her young football captain, which in turn meant more hairy grinding for Tommy against the ever-drooling trap of her swollen labia. When she next copied the protagonist's seduction tactics of reaching for the boy and guiding his head to her crotch, Joanne too reached out with her free hand and instinctively cinched her legs closer together while hunching slightly in the seat, which resulted in Tommy being clasped so tightly to the furry maw of her giant cunt that he nearly had a twig-arm sucked between the slippery flaps up to his shoulder. When Joanne relaxed her stance again, the accumulated pressure of that last pulsating gesture meant an especially dense spurt of built-up cream was released between her fibrous hairs, blasting her son from head to toe with fragrant saturation.

            The moaning and cooing from above ramped up in time with the greater volume of fluid tortuously showering itself over Tommy. His mother was fidgeting multiple times a minute now, sashaying her enormous ass cheeks in the over-filled chair and making every square inch of cellulite quiver from her bulbous caboose to the soggy lips of her privates quivering desirously against her son. In time, though, the boy had to realize that it wasn't just the content of her trashy book fueling this fire, but the aid of his own body.

            With his faced pushed so near to her rubbery clit, stimulating it each time his mother's erotic squirming forced him to flinch in response, he had inadvertently allowed himself to serve as an undersized vibrator. Making matters worse, Joanne's restlessness while she read was the very thing making her boy-shaped panty passenger even more apparent to her senses, thus creating a disgustingly vicious cycle wherein the full-bodied reader was symbiotically aroused by her literature and a tiny naked pussy-hugger, while her offspring was made to suffer more deeply every minute in the muggy, sex-scented confines thanks to that wretched book and his own unfortunate winces every time he remembered how close he currently was to suckling his own mother's softball-sized g-spot nub. With every page Joanne feverishly turned, Tommy wept closer to a panic attack.

"Darlin', I may just have to make you read this book yourself... once I'm through with it, of course," she said, addressing her son directly for the first time since jamming him in her underwear. "I think you might relate to it, silly as some of it seems. Yes, Chaz is much more built than you, and he's definitely got a size advantage in multiple ways, but I certainly see eye-to-eye with Gladys more often than not, and when it comes down to it, you're my own little schmeckel of a football captain. You may have thought you were big out there in the "real" world, but when you're in my house, things go by my rules, and the sooner you get on my wavelength, the happier you'll be. That's what Chaz is finding out, anyway. Maybe you could follow his example. Not to mention you could test out some of his techniques... oy vey..."

            Joanne mopped the back of her hand over her perspiring forehead and let out a shallow wheeze of arousal as the encounter between Gladys and Chaz went from mere eating-out fest to a more rigorous affair. She was no longer budging in response to specific moves made by the equally mature and generous-figured book character, but actively gyrating in the seat. Her blubbery ass and wide hips rocked against the arms of the chair, practically bending them out of the place and making the legs groan. The platform itself was beginning to sag from all this activity. Now in a steady rhythm, Joanne could feel her tiny son tweaking against her vag with each arc of her hindquarters, rewetting him every few seconds while she approaching gushing-point.

            "Why did I take so long to think of this, huh, sugar-plum?" Joanne croaked, throwing her head back and letting her deep-pitched moan echo through the house. "Here you were all this time, sitting right in front of me: the solution to all my problems, at least when it comes to reading a good book. You don't know what it's been like, trying to keep the pages open with one hand and get the juices flowing just right. AWFUL, that's how it's been. But this is ideal. No need to twiddle the bean, as they say, and turn pages at once. You've got one of those bases covered for your mama, haven't ya? This is... mmmm... mercy me, this is the life."

            By now Joanne was practically jumping out of her chair with every thrust of her hips, while the barely-stable furniture squeaked like an old mattress. Her mumbled praise turned to peals of hideous sexual groaning as she clapped her three-inch-tall lad at the apex of her jiggly thunder-thighs. Every wiggle threatened to swallow him up between her plump pussy lips; Tommy was kept from entering only by the continual tide of goo, his mother's itchy pube thicket, and the binding threads. Several times in his stupefied state, he let himself foolishly hope that it was over, especially when Joanne's volume rose to new levels of shrill, and the cum began to coagulate around him, with nowhere else to escape against the already-drenched wall of her underwear.

            Nevertheless, like a fireworks display finale, every false climax just meant the next uprising of liquid and cries was a horrific surprise, until at last Joanne squatted in her seat, balling Tommy into the tightest-yet embrace of labial fat and oily hair-tufts, grunted in ecstasy, and then splayed out in her chair. The orgasm quaked her entire pear-shaped body while the promised fountain of squirted cum shot past the pube forest to enclose the shrunken boy's whole self in a bubble of solid, lukewarm, ooey-gooey motherly happiness.

            Joanne took her sweet time in recovering, having allowed herself to slump all the way to the floor and settle into the afterglow of the best finish she'd experienced in quite a while. Once she'd consciously savored every ounce of pleasure she'd received due to the trio of Gladys, Chaz, and especially Tommy, she resolved to fish her boy out of his fleshy holster. Her panties had to be peeled away from her inner thighs, as there wasn't a single dry thread left in the garment, and after cramming her fingers into the cum-speckled carpet, she found her boy's submissive shape half-tucked into her pussy already, along with the threads tying him down. Re-centering him took some effort, since her secretions had dried thick and sludgy over Tommy like a fly in amber, but she was persistent in aligning his head with her clit again, though to the boy's dismay, she wasn't planning on taking the panties off. Still, Roberta was deeply gratified not only that he'd been so "supportive" during the act, but also that he'd gone docile in the aftermath so she could fully enjoy his work without distraction. Now freed from the hairy embrace just enough to breathe, Tommy hacked and spewed up a throatful of his mom's ooze indistinguishable from the frosting already caked over his body.

            "Well, baby..." Joanne murmured, snickering on the end as she gazed lovingly at her crotch-dweller. "...I guess congratulations are in order, aren't they? My little sweet-pea isn't a virgin anymore. Not even close. How does it feel to be a real man at long last? As close as it's possible to be a real man given these circumstances, I mean."

            Coughing up another revolting glob, Tommy struggled to look up between the doughy canyon of his mom's gigantic legs and up to her cheeky sweat-dotted face without getting his head tangled in the soupy matting of her bush again. Regardless of whether he could've actually spoken, opening his mouth only led to more rejection of the goop from his lungs.

            "I suppose it's only natural for things to be a little rough the first time anyone learns about the birds and bees firsthand. It was that way for me, too," Joanne sympathetically sighed. She reached for her son's head again, roughly kneading it with her thumbpad to wipe away the surplus muck, though she mostly only succeeded in smearing a fresh streak across his little face.

            "P-Please get me out of here, Mom. I n-need a break... to rest," Tommy begged. Though he spoke with the same desperate fervor, there was hollowness in his tone that was unlikely to heal. "Please."

            "Get you out? When we've barely even begun?" Joanne snort-laughed. "And if ya want a rest, toots, you may want to notice that's what you're gettin' right now. Hate to break it to ya, baby... well, maybe "hate" is a strong word... but you're going to have to get used to doin' this for your mama more often. Once you've had a taste of champagne, you can't really go back to gas station wine, now can you? Well, that's how I feel now, and I'm sure you wouldn't expect your mother to just go back to the way things were, knowing how much better things can be with a little help. Not to mention, I barely got through one chapter of this thing, and it's only the first time Gladys and Chaz have really gotten into each other. Oh, I can hardly wait to find out what they do next. I'll try not to spoil it for you, baby. Plus, you'll remember, what we're doing now was to help ease you into the main event. Foreplay. Understand? The main course is still waiting in the wings for his chance to shine, and especially after how well you did on your own, I think you and Big Ben are going to make the very best of friends."

            Realization washed over him even more gruesomely than the last wave of frothy cum, and Tommy broke through his tormented reverie just in time to scream a more dire protest, but Joanne was already well-past the point of listening, and after waggling her fingers goodbye at him, let the sticky waistband of her plus-size panties snap flush to her plush curves again. The tension immediately bashed her son like a miniature crash test dummy into the sticky cushion of her pubes again, bopping his trembling features against her clit in such a way that she couldn't help but mewl, even so soon after the previous eruption.

            "Hush now. Just get back in your spot. Yes, there. Mommy's bent and broken her back for you your whole misguided life, sweetie-pie. It's only fair you bend yours just a little to pay back some of that debt, isn't it?" Joanne cooed, feeling her boy's body align with the cusp of her lips, his tiny spine hyperextending ever so slightly to fit her hairy mound.

            Groaning almost as loudly as she had while approaching orgasm, the woman pulled herself up off the floor, marveling again at the tantalizing sensation of her son sinking deeper into the thrall of her pubes and the puffy lips of her puss. This time she didn't try to pry him back the other direction, however, but allowed her cameltoe to fully reform, the cum-soaked fabric and Tommy along with it gulped into her clutches.

            Upon taking a seat, and feeling her boy settling fully behind the flabby shutters of her vag, Joanne gasped again. Not wanting to waste such perfect placement for her new "reading" buddy, she scooped up the well-loved book again and continued right on with the escapades of Gladys and Chaz, while Tommy resumed seizing and shaking, as was the only possible response to being absorbed fully into his mom's pussy, prevented from tumbling into the squishy void only by the ropes lashing him to her repulsive panties. Fresh feminine honey dribbled anew in syrupy strands from the stuffy hovel around him.

Kyle hunkered in terror behind the towering pillar of a coffee table leg, crouched to make himself less of an easy target, but also because he lacked the strength or will to risk scurrying any further while the countdown to his undoing continued. This wasn't much of a hiding place. Yet anything more daring would only lead to his capture even sooner in their very first roleplay, and every additional second Kyle could buy himself was a blessing before an inevitable reunion with his mother's foaming crotch.

            "...twenty-seven... twenty-six... twenty-five..." Roberta boomed, a hand covering her eyes while she faced the corner of the room. She'd counted down from fifty, only agreeing to such a high number after Kyle nearly made himself vomit by insisting that a longer count would make the game more effective for them both, when really he knew anything shorter would make it impossible to outrun his titanic parent and her floor-thudding strides. Of course escape was impossible either way, but without such minor victories, Kyle might've just given up on life.

            On the final numbers before she turned to hunt for her quavering offspring, Roberta shimmied her mammoth ass like a pendulum, two cellulite-wobbling swings for every count. Much of her body was on horrendous display, as she'd stripped to only a velvet-black bra and panties. A pair of Halloween cat ears adorned her frizzy locks like a crown, and painted-on whiskers streaked over her cheeks, though even with these elements, Kyle found it awfully difficult to be realistically immersed in his mother's chosen cat-and-mouse fantasy when all he saw was a tubby over-the-hill mountain of a woman in her sickeningly skimpy underwear and two pieces of a costume that would surely slide off once she sweated hard enough in pursuit of her boy. Not even his own accessories, consisting of rounded mouse ears and matching whiskers, could help convince him that this was anything less than another sexual nightmare, only made more theatrically distinctive in a way that he'd have an even harder time scrubbing it from his traumatic memory.

            "...three, two, one! Ready or not, baby, here Mommy cuuuuums!" Roberta sang, machine-gun giggling just to ensure he knew precisely what sort of coming she meant.

            She turned and began peering around the room, wiggling her broad nose and stretching out her "claws" in an attempt to get into character, though Kyle wasn't fooled in the slightest, particularly when the mega-cat took one sneaky step that rattled all the furniture. Tiptoeing forward, Roberta hunched to the floor in as cat-like a position as she could emulate, which only meant her hot air balloon tits and paunch were free to hang. The giantess crawled around the room, still sniffing the air, and at least in that respect, Kyle was half-convinced his mother was capable of smelling his fear and following it straight to completion.

            "I wonder where that mousey's gotten off to... he couldn't have gone far, what with his puny little legs and all. And I'm sure it's much harder to run fast when the mousey's got a precious mousey-erection slowing him down," Roberta crooned. "Yes, sadly for the mousey, his body knows the natural order of things better than his brain does. He wants to come to the kitty and follow the food chain, but he's too scared of new things, so he just lies to himself and runs away, like all mouseys do. But the kitty's got to do what kitty's do, too."

            More than once as he circled the table leg to keep himself hidden from view, the six-inch lad expected his mother's gaze to snag on him, followed by the telltale thumping as she clumsily scrambled after him on all fours. Again, however, Roberta passed her son, squatting herself even lower to see beneath the couch. With her face to the ground and her derriere jutted up in the air, Kyle was gifted with a rather unorthodox and utterly repugnant view from the back and between his mother's legs. All her shuffling around the carpet on her knees had unseated her panties from their central position, with much of the fabric now pinched tight between her cheeks, but most egregious of all, the thin strip riding along her taint had twisted to the side, allowing most of Roberta's hair-pocked vaginal lips to floss with the string of her underwear. Pubes brushed to and fro with every pass, and as the woman dipped especially low to squint into the darkness for signs of vermin, her wide-open nethers slobbered a glistening crystal dollop of cum that nearly touched the floor before the strand finally broke and landed in a tiny puddle under the crescent shadow of Roberta's bottom-heavy hemispheres.

            "Oh, the pussy's getting very hungry for her mousey now," Roberta gutturally announced. Propping herself against the couch cushions, she reached between her legs, prying her cunt lips apart. This encouraged even more fluid to dangle out while Roberta probed herself, counter-clockwise screwing her thumb around her most sensitive region until her knees shook. Seeing this, Kyle latched himself to the table leg in anticipation for the possibility that his mother might simply flop onto her stomach with the force of a whole timbered jungle from finger-banging joy. "Yes, she's absolutely salivating for her lunch. Are you going to come out and feed the pussy, mousey, or are you going to make her cum find you herself? The choice is yours, only... the good kitty might become a bad pussy if she gets too impatient. She might just devour her mousey whole when she finally gets him in her paws."

            Kyle had to cover his mouth to keep from either retching or yelping at this tapestry of abominations taking place on such a grand scale so nearby. His anxiety was only made more lethal by the fact that he now couldn't tell where his mother ended and the cat began, when it came to her coy threats. Was he actually intended to surrender himself, and if he did, would that really mean a gentler time while the pussy had its snack? That seemed unlikely, but Kyle was also scared shitless of doing anything that made his situation even less livable. Sticking to his rodent instincts, the boy remained silent and concealed from the cat's eyes, or so he thought.     

            "Is it just me, or did I see a mousey tail around the corner?" Roberta purred. She awkwardly pivoted herself around, grasping the table for purchase, and peeked behind the leg of the table. Kyle sunk to his knees, defeated, and again just concentrated on keeping himself from upchucking in hysteria while his gargantuan mom meaningfully eyed his exposed junk. "Oh, my mistake. That wasn't a tail I saw..."

            Arching her plump fingers like a claw again, Roberta took a playful swipe at her boy, scooping him into her fist. Her cheeks were already pink from all the crawling around, and her breaths verged on huffing, but the smile on her artificially whiskered face told Kyle it was all worth it, to his mother at least. The pointed ears had gone crooked, but were quickly adjusted. Roberta's crow-footed eyes twinkled, for an instant seeming almost feline-yellow, as she brought him to her face and dramatically circled her tongue around the rim of her thin lips.

            "Me-ow, you really gave this pussy the ol' run-around, didn't you, mousey? Luckily, she's fully prepared to return the favor. Maybe with a reach-around instead." Roberta parted her fist enough so her doll-sized boy's lower half could flail out of her hand. She tickled a fingertip under his flaccid cock for an insistent rubbing then, when it didn't react, licked her skin to dampen the runway. "Only teasing you. Don't you know cats like to play with their food? But this pussy's not in the mood for too much play before the meal. She's positively ravenous. Don't worry, she won't bite... much, anyway."

            After laying a moist kiss on her boy's whole head, Roberta's fist descended between her spanned-out limbs toward the hungry party. The black panties now stretched smooth over her drooling womanhood again, but there was enough of a soaking patch in the silk for Kyle to recognize his enemy's messy table manners even before his mom had peeled back the garment, revealing the hairy kitty underneath once again. Rather than driving her squirming son straight toward her crotch, Roberta's thumb and middle finger softly stretched the damp pink orifice as wide as it would go, then proceeded to alternately open and close her pussy lips like a lapping cat mouth, complete with unkempt stray-animal pubes flapping and flinging stray cum globules with each flap.

            "Yum-yum-yum," Roberta whispered. "Kitty's got to have her milk now. Are you going to quench her thirst, mousey? You're much smaller than a cow, after all, but all milk is good milk to a pussy."

Roberta's mouse didn't have a response beyond a panged squeal, but seeing as this was fitting for his character, she took it as sporting agreement, and wasted no more time in teasing his round ears against her wide-open labia. As Kyle writhed like the rodent he was to her, his accessories tickled her sensitive flesh and ruffled her pubic whiskers, which only invited her to go for a bigger bite from the mouth of the kitty. Given she was already frothing for him like usual, only more so because of the added spice their roleplay was adding to substantial arousal, it didn't take much more than a nudge and a moist slither for Kyle to pass head-first into his mother's cunt, all the way down to his hips. Her plump fingers still grasped his three-inch legs as they dangled out of the gooey hair-flecked maw, though it was getting tough to keep a firm grip while nectar kept leaking out, glossing Kyle from head to toe and making Roberta's own digits slippery.

            "Oh, me-owww..." the frizzy-haired cat moaned. She shuddered heavily, grasping and squeezing the couch cushions with her free hand in effort to keep from spilling flat to the floor. Her entire complex of bulging curves and maternal cellulite wobbled, becoming increasingly shiny with energetic perspiration while she gave Kyle's half-foot-tall body a twist. Jolting, Roberta cautiously yet with creative purpose began to bend her son's legs, attempting to rub her clit with his unwieldly limbs, but found it too difficult to aim and still keep the mouse in a place she could control his movement, which was complicated by the greasy lack of friction and the fact that the boy was perhaps getting too much into the spirit of playing vermin, scrambling madly against the jaws of feline death. While some motion was appreciated on his parent's part, Kyle was fighting so chaotically, it was beginning to have the opposite effect Roberta had intended.

            She could hardly keep a hold of him now, and in fact was in danger of losing her son completely in her pussy which, while it would suit the erotic story of their couples' therapy game, would make it difficult for her to manage the boy's activity. Roberta had learned from experience now that Kyle was far more effective as a lover when he had her fingers or even a supportive dildo there to guide his motions. Bless his heart, he did his best, but as his default behavior was to quake in a stuttering posture that only mildly got his mother's juices flowing, it was clear that more oversight was necessary until he'd learned to enter her and utilize his own body like the perfect instrument it was meant to be.

            "Oooh... maybe that's a little too much... well, mouse for the pussy in just one gulp," Roberta mumbled, determined to preserve the sexy illusion for both of them, despite Kyle's irksome performance. He was still tremoring so hard, swishing his legs in the sticky bath of her ejaculate while also getting tangled in a few especially long curled hairs, that it required some serious focus, and an unfortunate loss of her raunchy daze, for Roberta to latch her fingertips around her boy's bottom half and get the cat's mouth to spit him out. Slip-n-slide conditions aside, her swollen cunt lips had clamped possessively around him, requiring a tug to break free. A hearty helping of her gloop gushed forth along with a grievously lubed-up Kyle, plopping back into his mother's waiting hand. It took several seconds for the boy to even finish coughing through the layers of motherly cum clogging his throat, though Roberta was too concerned about his acting job as the mouse to notice how long it took her tiny son to resume normal breathing.

            "Baby, that was... definitely the right idea, but you're moving way too fast. Now, of course it makes perfect sense for you to pretend you hate it while the kitty is playing hide and seek with you, and even when she's about to gobble you up... that's half the fun, after all... but once the business starts up, it's okay to take your time. Firm, but slow. You know the way Mommy likes. So, what do you say we towel you off real quick, then have another go at-"

            "NO! I CAN'T!" Kyle screeched. Having hacked through the last syrupy liter of his mom's pussy fluid, the boy hunched forward and hyperventilated with such fervor, it might've looked like he was trying to hump Roberta's palm. His reaction was so vivid, even his occasionally self-absorbed parent noticed the violence of it. "I... can't... do... another... one... now."

            "Sweetie, was that... too much for you?" Roberta softly questioned, genuinely thrown off at the sight of her boy entering a full-blown panic attack almost immediately after recovering the ability to pump air instead of bittersweet ejaculate into his lungs. "I thought we'd be fine, seeing how we've done far more... involved... things than that before, and plus, today you had lots of time to get in the zone, what with the kitty hunting for her mousey. I thought you liked that part, baby! Was Mommy too scary of a kitty for you, huh? I'm sorry, if that's true. I guess I'm a little bigger than most kitties, even to a mousey as small as you."

            Kyle winced. Per usual, his mother was quick to throw out polite apologies, but never for the actual fact that she was engaging in therapy-approved molestation with her helpless son. Trembling so hard he practically slapped himself just while trying to touch his own face, Kyle did his best to keep his skull from traumatically vibrating, clutching his soggy hair and covering his eyes so he didn't have to keep looking directly into the nearby bush-matted entrance to his parent's birth canal. His painted-on whiskers had of course long been cleaned off by the onslaught of goo and abrasive rubbing along Roberta's pubes, to say nothing of his costume's ears, which of course had popped off his head after the first clumsy thrust. He didn't look much like a mouse anymore, but then again his mother's whiskers had also begun to smear and her ears sat crooked atop her head from ruffling her split-end tresses, so neither of them had stayed in their roles for long once the sexual carnage began. Even with his eyes closed, and cool outside air at least partially penetrating the caked-on layer of fluid over his skin, Kyle still couldn't slow his stampeding breath at all.

            "Really, baby, I am sorry if things got a little too realistic for you," Roberta purred. She grunted to stand, using the couch for support while careful not to let her gunked-up son spilled from her open palm. Upon hearing this apology, Kyle almost had to cackle aloud in hysterical laughter at the sheer absurdity, but crippling anxiety kept him in check. Combing her sweaty bangs back and adjusting her pillowy tits in their stirrups, as they'd started to inflate out of the cups, Roberta slumped heavily onto the furniture to lie down, keeping her boy perched close to her face. "I know it must sometimes weigh on you, to be this small all the time and think about what would happen if a real animal got ahold of you. Now, a housecat might not be too bad, but there are worse things out there. That much is true. Just know your Mommy will always be here to watch over you, though, no matter what. So you never have to be afraid of whatever scary hungry things are really out there."

            Kyle nestled into Roberta's clammy palms, fighting for air and also struggling with the sickening irony that he'd probably rather face down a starving grizzly bear at this size than his mom's cooch one more time. At least it would be over quicker with a carnivore. By contrast, Roberta's slobbering womanhood was choosing a slow undoing for its favorite squirm-happy companion. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became that the so-called scariest and hungriest thing imaginable wasn't out there, but already in the house with him and within reaching distance of his mother's grabby mitts. He had no doubt she was closely monitoring the state of his ongoing panic-mode purely so she could decide when it was medically appropriate to plunge her hypersensitive naked offspring back into her tunnel and announce, finally, that whether he was ready or not, she was about to cum.

            Meanwhile, the big cat herself reclined into the pillows, deeply frustrated and only stopped from some intermission-type foreplay by the ugliness of Kyle's cries. If the roleplay wasn't appealing to him, she supposed she owed it to him to find a more constructive method to enhance their relationship, either with a new game, or a different tactic entirely. Though her body was still screaming for release, flushed and pulsing to have its man-shaped prize jammed back in the glory spot again, Roberta piously made the unselfish choice of allowing her son a little while recuperate, though at the very least, she thought, he might take that time while positioned somewhere more pleasurable for both of them. A little give-and-take was key here.

            Prying her cleavage apart, the woman squiggled Kyle in amongst her jugs, which wasn't at all difficult given the volume of cum and sweat glazed on both of them, even while the boy had to fight against the cruel gravity of the upper breast while Roberta rested on her side. Sighing with discontentment, while also reaffirming to herself that she would crack the code to a perfect physical relationship with her favorite boy no matter how long it took or how many orgasms she had to sacrifice, Roberta drifted lazily to sleep, lullabied by the sensation of her boy still squirming and panting against the oppressive boulder of her flabby chest.

Tommy gently quivered, with his limbs bound to the flesh-toned monster that was Big Ben. His body longed to shake more wildly, of course, but Joanne had applied such a liberal quantity of the special boy-to-toy glue, the entire backside of her son's three-inch body from his scalp to his ankles was cemented in place. The newly awakened giantess had also specifically chosen to position her child near the tip of the lifelike sex aid, facing outward with his head tipped up at the rubbery summit, so he was forced to look in whatever direction the thick mast was pointing. Under the right lighting, Tommy and Big Ben together might've looked like the bough of a ship, with a figure carved into the woodwork, only most sculptures in that position didn't look quite as depressed or crazy-eyed as Joanne's son.

            Like some kind of contemporary tarred-and-feathered town fool, Tommy looked deeply the worse for wear after the "warm-up" in his mom's panties during her dalliance with the romance novel: viscuous feminine cream was tackily half-dried over every part of him, which allowed a generous portion of her loose pubes to come along with him as well once he was extracted from the panty trap. This made him look rather ridiculous even before taking into account his humiliating new role as the stud adorning Big Ben's cockhead, and Joanne put little effort into hiding her rumbling giggles once she'd lodged the dildo upright via suction cup to a wooden footstool and stepped back to observe her child.

            "B-B... B..." Tommy sputtered.

            "What's that, darlin'? You've got to speak up so Mommy can hear you," Joanne said. She stood with her legs pressed to the rounded edge of the footstool, ensuring her tiny son's view was limited to the fat-roll expanse of her thighs and upward, her heavyset silhouette towering over him with the absolute authority she'd craved for so long but only today learned to command. "I could've sworn I taught you the importance of making yourself heard. And believe me, this'll all be much better if Mommy can "hear" you the whole time. It'll let me know I'm doin' well."

            "B-B-BREAK!" he huffed. The effort to spit out the word made the boy hurl himself forward, though because of the glue, he only succeeded in setting off the slightest wobble in the nine-inch flagpole. "I n-need a b-break, Mom! P-Please just l-let me go..."

            "Now, sweetie-pie, I don't mean for us to become one of those couples that's always havin' to bring up what was said and done before just to win arguments, but I think you'll find that a break is NOT what we negotiated," Joanne explained in a remarkably cool tenor, given she was standing half-dressed over her nude dildo-mounted son in such close proximity to his husky cum-dripping destination. "You weren't ready to go full-bore right away, so we worked out a nice compromise, and you got the chance to get better acquainted with one of your new chores. That time in my panties was just the foreplay, yes? Of course you remember. To tell ya the truth, though, you did such a good job just with that, honey, that you've already given Mommy some ideas for transportation while I'm out and about in the future. Big Ben isn't exactly portable, at least not in the way we'd need him, but you... well, you'll just fit snug as a bug, won't you, baby?"

            As she spoke, Joanne commenced mounting the stool. She didn't lower her haunches fully yet, but stretched her doughy legs to either side of the furniture and hunkered just enough so her behemoth posterior was made to hover threateningly over the little guy's head at the tip of the tower. With her thighs spread so wide, this also meant the flaps of Joanne's bare labia were peeled back, allowing the surplus of pre-cum to plop down around the dildo now and again. Some larger helpings of excreted arousal splashed so hard when they landed that Tommy felt the residual droplets rebounding high enough to rewet his legs. It was physically impossible to avoid the drizzling downpour forever, though, and a few leaked glop-balls freshly oozed from the giantess's mess splattered down the three-incher's whole abused body.

            "Oh, baby, you really are becoming such a wonderful little handyman for Mommy, aren't you? Our first day like this, and already you've done more to help around the house than you have since that bitch dumped you back on my doorstep, if not before then too," Joanne crooned. "Who knew you had such potential?"

            With every word, which she obviously intended to come off as alluringly sultry, she worked to squat even lower. For a woman of such hulking mass, though, it was tricky to slowly descend without some serious paunch-rattling shakes. This also encouraged honey droppings to keep on occasionally spritzing in Tommy's direction, until the hairy pink mouth of his mother's snatch was positioned close enough above that he could feel its humidity unfurling in a mist.

            "Can you tell, baby? Can you tell how much Mommy wants you? Oh, sure ya can. Mercy, such a perfect tease you are. You really can push a woman's buttons when you want to, can't you? Shame that wife of yours couldn't see what she was missin', but then again, I'd have never had you here now, so I suppose I owe her my thanks for giving up the best lay she could've had. Sorry, baby, I don't have to talk about her. I don't want it to ruin the mood for ya," Joanne continued. "Wow, I'm going to have you busy, busy, busy from now on. Round the clock. Then again, you won't have to worry about trying to get a full-time job, and you'll have all your needs provided for. Really, how is an interviewer going to hire you, when they wouldn't even see ya over the desk? Yes, when you think about it that way, it really is a plum deal, isn't it? Truth be told, I was getting' awful damn lonely here until you came back, sugar-plum, having to take care of all my own needs myself, like I did back when I was a couple years younger. It was a sad state of affairs, let me tell ya. If only it occurred to me sooner that the boy... or, man... I loved the most in this whole world was also the perfect sex toy. I mean, what were the odds?"

            By this time, Joanne's crotch was approaching like a shark closing in on an oblivious swimmer. The rampant fur of her muff stroked and scratched its way over her son's head so roughly he'd have been happier with guitar strings in their place. An amorphous pube-mass brushed and batted at the three-inch-man's shape, jerking him as well as Big Ben about. The effect only increased once Joanne sunk low enough for her gigantic drenched pussy to massage its way along her son, threatening to envelope the ramrod tip of the dildo and Tommy's head in one slimy pump. With the wincing shape of his body there to help ply the woman's lips, thicker spurts of her happiness began to emerge, spouting right at the lad's cranium. His tears and indistinguishable pleas for mercy had resumed, though distorted by the difficulty of speaking through regular full-facial dousings in molasses-like cum.

            "Hmmm, all right now, sweet-pea, ya might be overdoin' it a little on the crying. Yes, new experiences can be overwhelming, but heck, I really took my time here, just for you," Joanne grumbled, putting on a smile to hide her irritation. She gazed down at him over the rotund valley of her overbearing cleavage, accidentally giving the dildo a push when her frizzy cunt rolled back. Despite her maternal tone, the longer Joanne spoke, the more rigidly authoritative she became, until she was less the bubbly single mom and more the drill instructor: "A mother's patience is longer than most, sure, but even I've got my limits. And frankly, I've been waiting YEARS for a chance like this, even if I didn't know who'd be on the other end ‘til today. This is just part of your routine now, baby. Every boy's gotta do some chores to earn his keep. I'll write them down so you can keep track in the future, but I've decided you're going to be helping Mommy out with stress-release at least twice a day: once in the morning when we wake up together, and once before sleep, to start the night off right. And, depending on what kind of day it's been, maybe a little afternoon delight as well. We'll see. Like I said, too, that foreplay was the perfect on-the-go solution for us, so whenever I'm out running errands, you'll be handling errands of your own, only you'll get to stay nice and cozy, where you belong. Those are just the new house rules... that's how you'll earn your keep. No whining, no wiggling away. Believe me, sugar-bean, you're going to want to keep up with those chores. I may be your Mommy, but I'm also your landlady now, and while your Mommy is prepared to give you some rope, your landlady collects rent on time. And she takes out interest if you fall behind. Non... nego... tiable."

            Barking her commandments, Joanne had continued her pussy's crawl toward its helpless sacrifice strung up for feeding, and as she huffed these final-word facts, her legs were hugged to Big Ben while her voracious crotch continued wiping itchy hair and dewy lips over Tommy's face. The giantess couldn't see him now, what with her titanic breasts and the swell of her gut in the way, but she could definitely feel every part of him down there, and when she slowed to let her son savor an up-close-and-personal view back into her tunnel, a sensitive nub pricked the lower end of her slit.

            "Really, now? After all that moanin' and carrying on you just did? Seems your body knows something that little noggin doesn't yet, because it's sure as heck not complaining," Joanne laughed at the micro-boner submerged in her thigh brawn. "Why hello there, Tommy Junior. We've been expecting you."

            "I'm j-just s... s... s-scared..." Tommy blubbered from below. His retort was miraculous, given his heavy sobbing and the consistent flow of natural lube percolating from the fleshy spout a hair's breadth away. "I d-don't l-like-"

            "Now's not the time for embarrassment, baby," Joanne bawdily interrupted. "Seriously, we're this deep into the therapy already, and we've seen every part of each other. It's a bit late for playing the prude. So you might as well feel good in knowing that your cute little body is finally ready to pitch in, even if the rest of you taking a while to catch up. By the way, if the reason you're fussing so much is because you're afraid of what might happen if you have a squirt while you're inside Mommy, don't worry about that at all. Really. Cum all day long in me if you want, especially since that just might be where you spend all day today. I might still have my looks and these curves intact, but I'm a year or two past my last-call for another baby. Besides, you're all the baby I'll ever need, Tommy-sweetie, and MORE."

            The horror of this argument was enough to shut Tommy up into petrified quiet, which Joanne took as him finally coming around to her logic. As her open vaginal lips were already tempted with the thick tip of the dildo like a summer popsicle, and her shrunken son's head as the secret ingredient, the woman needed only another wriggle and a final descent by a few degrees over the stool to slam herself into position, driving Big Ben and the little passenger toward the hot drooling depths inside her cunt.

            "Being on top always was my favorite aerobic exercise," Joanne commented, loudly enough in hopes that her boy could still hear while she rocked him squishily into place within. "I never needed jogging or biking to keep in the kind of shape that could please a man. Yes, this really does get the job done, as you're going to find out soon, baby, and you're being such a big help again, making sure I burn off all those dessert-calories. This is just another way you're showing yourself to be the best son a Mommy could want... aside from all the crying, of course, but we'll soon have that trained out of you, and then you'll be the envy of every mother on the block. Of course, I'd never rent you out, sweet-cheeks, not even to my best friends. You're all mine."

Joanne bobbed against the footstool, which might've scratched and dragged forward across the floor if not for her incredible mass anchoring it in place. Throwing her head back, the woman gripped the edge of the seat and ruthlessly fucked the pairing of her two favorite partners. After so much warm-up, Big Ben could impale her all the way to the hilt of the rubber sac at the suctioned base. This way, Joanne got up to speed in record time, giving off hideous groans of ecstasy as she humped, while the dildo slopped up and down her tract, creating a sound not unlike a wet cow's udder being violently milked. Within a couple minutes, the woman was screwing toward a barbaric quickie, having foregone technique and tantalizing strokes in favor of brute-force cunt-swabbing with the hard shaft of her trusty aid and the delightfully writhing shape of her child, whose presence was felt despite the rush. Flopping her ass cheeks against the stool's edge, Joanne achieved an explosive, gutturally-charged orgasm that nearly left her hoarse.

            Within, Tommy was treated to a grueling exercise in mind-breaking repulsion that made his prior visit to his mother's crotch while strung up in her panties seem like a soothing spa experience. At the height of her obscene euphoria, Joanne's nethers constricted as though performing muscle-clenching kegel training, which cramped her arousal-swollen tunnel around Big Ben and especially Tommy's frame so hard that the oozy walls, quivering and tensed like the haunches of a powerful animal, threatened to crunch the boy's ribcage inward if she flexed any more intensely. His cries for release, naturally, were only answered by forcibly guzzling another gloppy round of fresh-squeezed cum, though in a way he did get his wish, since Joanne's "release" at last brought on a heavy-breathing respite, then the sticky unpeeling of her clammy ass cheeks from the stool. Inch by inch the dildo slid out of her pussy's slippery grasp, stringing out long dollops of feminine nectar like liquid candle wax as it traveled, until finally the wobbly structure was freed from the pull of the canal, and Tommy along with it.

            The glue had faithfully kept Joanne's son rooted precisely where she'd planted him, and after she'd huffed through the hazy post-orgasm aftermath enough to peer down between her thighs at her partner, she was seemingly almost as delighted as she had been by that cheek-clapping climax to find he was right where she'd left him and, most importantly, still intact. Her joy was so effusive, swooning at the sight of her helpful lover-boy affixed in the perfect location at the stray-pube-decorated summit of good old Big Ben, she wasn't even grossed out to see her little love spewing up loads of her cum like the end of a drunken bender. Swinging her juicy rump back wrecking-ball-style, Joanne hunched down so her dribbling cunt lips just missed swallowing the toy again.

            "Oh, baby, I'm thinkin' it's time we change things up a little before the next round, huh?" she whispered, stroking her fingertips up the rubber shaft from suction base to Tommy's involuntarily fidgeting legs. Once she'd given her son a thorough fondle of gratitude, her fist closed around the heavily lubed pillar and ripped it from the stool with a pressurized pop.

            Joanne sauntered through the hall and up the stairs toward the master bedroom, letting her overly-supple hips dramatically sway with every step in order to give Tommy a show and keep him horny until the fun resumed, though this display was mostly lost on the boy while the dildo chaotically arced in his mother's grasp, swinging dizzily around until he almost had to puke for entirely different reasons than maternal cum-bingeing.

            In the bedroom, Joanne moved with a greater purpose, stomping across the floor so every piece of furniture quaked from her hammering footfalls. She went right for the bed, clumsily sifting her pear girth onto the sunken-in mattress, and drove Big Ben's faux-ballsack straight at the headboard. The impact instantly secured the suction cup to the center of the surface, while giving the glued-on lad a whiplash-inducing jerk not unlike if he'd crashed a car into a wall at fifty miles an hour. The hardened substance kept him cemented in place, however, which meant Tommy only had to contend with a neck ache on top of his pussy-bruised ribs, ejaculate-poisoned throat, and overall existential dread, plus whatever else his mother had in store for him now.

            The shrunken boy was suspended from the dildo's underside curve, though still with his face attentively pointed straight ahead, and made to witness Joanne inelegantly repositioning herself on the bed. Hunkered on all fours, she was clearly making an effort again to entice him with the slinkiest motions her blubbery assets could manage while also trying not to get tangled in the sheets or lose her balance on the creaky springboard of the mattress, an act she unknowingly failed at with several ass-jiggling near-stumbles. Eventually she'd turned her back on her toys both living and inanimate, though, granting Tommy a prime view to the twin moons of her cheeks. As her thighs spread wider, the dark crevice between them came into view as well, until no square inch of roomy flesh below Joanne's waist was hidden from her son's haunted eyes.

            Her gigantic buttocks took up so much of Tommy's view, he could hardly see the rest of his mother's immense body, though as she steadily tipped the hills of her backside higher, he could see her womanhood cresting into view from below, the curly forest marinating in her needful juices and plopping excess in a glimmering stream on the blankets below. Though the fur was naturally densest and darkest concentrated around her swollen slit, hairs dotted all the way to the edge of her ass-crack, while a couple raunchy strings were even sprouted in an uneven circle around her rectum. All while Joanne arched her back to fill her child's vision with her colossal privates and nothing else, she was also shuffling in reverse toward the backboard, causing the entire bed to rock like a galleon on pre-storm waves, until a sashay at just the right angle would bat Big Ben's cockhead, along with Tommy's actual head, over the dual cellulite curvatures. She'd aligned him perfectly in the center of her crack but, as Joanne's view past her own bottom-heavy hindquarters was limited, she'd aimed too high, and as a result, when she took one final nudge backward in hopes of teasing her son back through the soggy bush for another roll in the hay, the dildo and its prisoner were instead grazed across her dark tender anus.

            In response to the beguiling tickle of Tommy's face caressing the moist opening, her orifice fully unclenched as though to make way for its guest, and in Joanne's surprise, the first inch of the dildo, along with her son's top half, were immediately absorbed into her anal cavity without the slightest preamble of extra lube or smaller starter objects.

            Shocked and titillated, she let rip a shrill squeal nearly as hideous as her pre-orgasm mating calls then, in the same instant, expelled surprise air from the opposite end, blasting her boy with a minor but audible toot. As Tommy was chest-deep in his mother's asshole when the innocent fart was vocalized, however, the hot breeze blew back his hair and gassed him in oily pungent odor with strength horrifically in excess of the small accidental fart it actually was. As the slightest benefit, however, the force of the wind-break briefly at least reopened the backdoor entrance, which helped launch the dildo's tip back into the light, though Tommy's face was still made to brush the thin stray hairs around his parent's greedy anus and bask in its heat until she'd recovered from giggling.

            "Whoopsie. I believe I owe you a big excuse-me, don't I, honey-pie? Mommy's very sorry," Joanne throatily uttered, hardly conveying much remorse while she fought back more chuckles. "Hey, though, maybe this is just nature's way of pushin' us toward new frontiers. What do you think about a visit to a different kind of place, baby? You're already nice and slick for it. You felt how easy that was, didn't you? See, some women, and your ex-wife is probably one of them, talk about how going inside from that direction doesn't feel good, that it hurts, yada yada yada. Well, to them I say, you can't knock something until you try it enough to make it work, and let me tell you, sweetie, Mommy knows exactly how to make it work. Full disclosure, I am just a little gassy when I'm... shall we say backed up like I am now, but that won't be a problem, you have my word. You'll get used to it. See, that's something else other women just won't admit. Everybody's gotta stay regulated, and yes, that means a little toot from time to time. I know, what a shocker, us ladies are human too, no matter how pretty! But you won't judge me for that, baby, just like I don't judge you for any of your imperfections. Because in the end, those are the kinds of things that make us love each other even more, right? Here, let Mommy show you."

            Now with full intent, Joanne backed her plump cheek flanks into Big Ben, this time knowing precisely where to aim. With a twirl first around the rim that swiped those lone itchy anal hairs over Tommy's fluid-glazed shrunken features again, the giantess purposefully jutted her appetized portal at the thick head of her nine-inch tool. Unlike that first tempting bump, Joanne's anus didn't immediately reopen, allowing her to polish her son's face on the puckered flesh. The oppressive warmth steaming from her ass quickly melted the dried cum painted over Tommy's head, forcing him to keep spitting or suffer another grimy swallow all over again.

            "NO! MOM, STOP! DON'T... DO... THIS!" Tommy shrieked with everything he had, still delirious from the fact that he had to convince his own mother to stop swabbing his head around the puffy spigot of her asshole. This plea of course came at the cost of gulping another accidental cheekful of Joanne's syrupy cum, which he immediately coughed back up, along with a blob from earlier. His renewed tears soon drowned out the cries, though these were compassionately wiped away by his gigantic mother's fart-musky asshole.

            "Oy, darlin', it's like you're trying to kill the mood," Joanne grunted through gritted teeth. "I'll tell you now, since you're new to all this, tantrums are not the way to a girl's heart, especially when you're already knee-deep in the business. Lucky for you, your Mommy's the patient type, plus I've been waiting so long for this day, you could be doin' a lot worse and I'd still be able to finish, but in the future, I wanna see some commitment from you, young man. You've got real duties now, like it or leave it... well, in your case, you can't leave it, so you may as well start liking it. This might be the most important of your chores, too. See, Mommy's just not right if she can't rub off in the mornings, and lately, between you and me, it's not quite gettin' the job done to have to do it all myself. Things get a little dry after too much repetition, ya know? Well... maybe "dry" isn't the word I'm looking for, but the point is, I need you to help keep me regular. Getting that morning release is a lot like those dainty lady-toots I was talkin' about: you just gotta do it, and if you don't, all sorts of things can go wrong. The same goes for you too, of course. Mommy won't have you just keeping it all pent up. So. How're we doin' down there, baby?"

Propping herself up on her elbow, Joanne fished between the slabs of her thighs, fingers twiddling until she found Tommy's gummied three-inch frame just an anal-hair's distance away from teasing her asshole again. She prodded his damp frontside, then sighed with dismay to find the boy was still hard in the loins. Her chubby fingertips unintentionally pinched then tweaked Tommy's mini-erection, giving him cause to shout again, though the woman hardly noticed, disappointed as she was in his continued lack of synchronization with her sexual whims.

            "Oh, no. No, no, no. This just won't do at all, sweetie-cakes," Joanne tsked. "We've got to be a well-oiled machine here, understand? Or neither of us is going to get the full therapeutic good from these activities. You've got a very important job to do here, and if you're not operating at your best, we're just not going to cut the mustard. Part of doing your chores well is letting Mommy keep you feelin' good too, baby. This isn't a one-way street. You're almost there, though. A little more and we'll get you feeling as good as Mommy. Guess I'd better not neglect those kegel exercises in the future, huh?"

            Spooked to death and sick as a dog, Tommy was treated to one last brush with the clamped rim of his mother's asshole, then felt the humid breeze of her titanic butt whipping higher to better align him with the originally intended socket. Pubes sagging under the liquid weight of dribbled cum reached out like tentacles for the boy's unwilling head, and though he couldn't see them immediately, Tommy heard the gooey unflapping of his mom's husky labial lips, preparing to swallow him back up. The curly wet fluff of her unbridled carpet bristled against his naked self at Big Ben's plunge toward the wide opening, the further backward Joanne inched. As with that taunting preview through her sphincter, the woman started with a modest sampling by only pushing the very cusp of the dildo, and Tommy's shrunken pinhead, inside her engorged tunnel. A little happy squirming and a lurch from her ponderous megaton ass got Joanne back in position, and she used this incomplete penetration to find her rhythm again, rocking and pumping straight into Big Ben at just the right angle to feel her son's tiny scrunched-up face smearing along the greasy insides.

            "That's the ticket," Joanne murmured. Aimed perfectly for a bullseye, and already back in the right groove to plumb her depths and scramble her brain, the woman pushed herself back fully over Big Ben, until the broad flabby peaks of her buttocks bounced into the headboard and made it strike the wall. In just one flowing glide, with hardly another wiggle needed, she'd fucked herself down to the toy's base, and sent Tommy blindly spelunking as deep into the squishy cavern as he'd yet been.

            Since she was already satisfied with this position in every way, there was no need for Joanne to experiment with other angles or even to ease them into the full-body pistoning with half-hearted pulses. This was happening. Her rump slammed the headboard again, cheeks expanding and slightly flattening at the pressure, only to wobble and resume their doughy sphere-shapes the moment she rode Big Ben back to the tip. Several gobs of cum spritzed even on the first round-trip slide, but they were only getting started. Double-knuckling the sheets for support and licking her lips, Joanne proceeded to pound backward and forward, heaving herself with increasing gusto at Big Ben. A subconscious drive thrummed within to let that thick tip and especially her son touch uncharted territories in the absolute pit of her cunt.

            The fuck-storm was even more relentless this time, as Joanne didn't get winded as easily here compared to maintaining a squat over the stool, which meant Tommy's experience was one of even more extreme sexual oblivion. The same bittersweet smells and hormone-spiced flavors assaulted the boy's senses, along with gallons of maternal gunk slopping his body with each tight shoot into the nether void, but the worst now was the sheer violence of this rapidfire penetration exercise. It felt like nothing less than a beating from a hundred unseen assailants, softened only by the havoc-wreaking moisture and buoyant padding of the tunnel. Nevertheless, Joanne's vaginal muscles were flexing in force, with each pass threatening to shear Tommy from Big Ben, though the glue kept its hold on him, at least for now.

            Joanne humped like her life depended on it, though ironically, someone else's life did. Ejaculate darkened the wood from Big Ben down to the pillow, where a pool was forming; the headboard itself was beginning to leave paint scratches on the wall after so many high-impact hits from her bowling-ball ass cheeks. She quaked her hips and let her sagging tits swing free, but otherwise, kept on track, afraid these marvelous pleasures would be dampened if she deviated from the course. Her breath was becoming short, though, and not wanting to cramp up just before the finish line, Joanne slowed the erotic rampage, tipping herself forward until Big Ben and Tommy were allowed to flop free of her pussy's harrowing grasp.

            "Gettin' there, baby?" Joanne huffed. She slumped her face against the mattress, mopping sweat from her cherried cheeks and swallowing hard to get control of her breathing again. Her son was too flabbergasted and too thickly coated in her juices to answer, though this didn't seem to bother the woman, as it was a rhetorical question. "We don't need ya getting tuckered out on Mommy... or in Mommy, I suppose... when we're both so close. You're not there yet, I know. I feel it. But a little more, and you'll be right as rain. Take a nice deep breath, okay? Safety's the most important thing. Okay, almost most important."

            Joanne was so in-tune with Big Ben's position behind her now, even though she couldn't see the dildo or her strapped-on child, she only had to plow straight backward once hoisted on all fours, and her ravenous box consumed the whole shaft again in the same length of time it took her to stutter out a wall-shaking moan. Having caught her breath again, and happily assumed her offspring did the same, she leapt back into the backboard-clomping fray with such heart that it was only another two minutes before she needed a second time-out. Gasping, and hardly keeping herself steady now from the electric stimulation wracking her body, Joanne flopped into the center dip of the mattress, cooing and rubbing her crotch into the sheets to keep up the mood until her energy and oxygen were replenished.

            "Oh, you're... harder than ever... aren't ya?" Joanne puffed like she'd just run a decathlon. "I... feel how... much you... want it. So... give it... to me, baby."

            The break was shorter this time, as the woman simply couldn't handle the waiting now. She threw herself back into the motion, fanny cheeks clapping the board and letting Tommy's legs rub along her fat inner lips, and at this point there was no stopping the train. Passion overruled fatigue and she was driving toward the end, boar-screeching louder than ever and pumping such a sloppy cataract down the length of Big Ben, it was threatening to soak all the way to the other side of the pillow.

            The harder and faster she pumped, the tighter Joanne's tunnel became, until it was gripping Tommy worse than a white-knuckled fist. The thought of her engaging in more kegel exercises made the boy's heart seize, since even now he could scarcely handle the strength of her pussy practically chewing him up, though the most pathetic insult of the whole affair was that Tommy was, in fact, getting begrudgingly stiffer and closer to surrender-cumming with every clench thanks to the pulsating texture of her constricting organ. In time, the boy did finally orgasm, though he couldn't notice it against the head-pounding insanity of every other fluid and spongy surface abrasively swishing past his vulnerable shape, threatening to outright crush him into a stain on Big Ben's well-worn runway.

            Joanne, of course, had even less awareness of her son's completion, since she was pounding the headboard with such ferocity now that she could hardly perceive the three-incher's form, let alone his movement or the nub-sized indicator of his pleasure. He might've slid all the way down Big Ben or even become detached and marooned in the sloshy trap, and Joanne wouldn't have noticed until she reached her ugly climax and felt his last-gasp squirming deep in the trench. Her end was near. Biting her lip, which did little to contain her warbling scream, Joanne hunched forward until the dildo was nearly extracted, and Tommy's lower half was buried in her bush again.

            One twitch was all it took for her to locate his defeated hard-on with the pithy knob of her g-spot. Her plump flesh firmed in response, pinning his cock down against his leg until it stung, and sent out shockwaves of goose bumps and endorphins. The moment after these sensitive extremities were united, like igniting a spark in a room doused with gasoline, Joanne released everything she'd been holding back, even through the earlier warm-up fucks. This one had truly been a long time coming. She blew out a sexual war cry, while her hefty frame propelled forward. As she detached from the toy, a firehose-stream of cum ruptured out in an abundant spray that rewetted every inch of Big Ben and especially Tommy, who was steeped in so much of his mother's sappy ejaculate now that anyone else would've had to cleanse it away just to recognize him as a human being. This explosion of orgasmic gloop, and the trauma of Joanne's climax itself, at last overpowered the boy into a blackout.

            When Tommy came to again, still glued upside-down to Big Ben, the first breath he drew was interrupted by a stomach-pumping upchuck. Joanne's thick fingertip was pressed in on his slender abdomen, impatiently pushing on him like a doorbell until the throat-clogging surplus of her cum was ejected from his lungs. Bracing her thumb against the pad of her middle finger, then, the woman gave him a modest flick to the gut that expunged the remainder.

            "Good boy," she crooned while trying to wipe her cream off his face and only partially succeeding. "Remember what Mommy taught ya? If you don't let things out like you're supposed to, you're only hurting yourself. Better out than in."

            "You've g-gotta let me go, Mom," he rasped. "J-Just throw me out of the h-house. Send m-me away to work. Give me anyway to s-someone. Anything. I j-just can't ever... ever... d-do that a-"

            "Look who's being a Drama King again," she said with a hearty chuckle, leaning in close enough to her entrapped son now that he could feel the volcanic mist of her drawling exhales. "You always whined at me for making a big deal out of things when you were a kid, for "embarrassing" you and blowing things outta proportion, and now here you are, pretending like the best damn thing in your life you never knew you needed until today is some sort of curse. Well, let me tell ya something, sweet-pea: we're nothing in this world without family. And family is the only thing you and I have got here. So don't go spoiling a good thing, when you've already impressed Mommy so much. That... was... wonderful, Tommy-baby. I mean it, from the bottom of my heart. Do I honestly look that foolish to you, that I'd give up the secret formula to feeling fantastic forever, when I only just got him right where I want him? There's not a snowball's chance in hell. This was only your first day on the job, and you're already better at it than anything else you've done your whole misguided screwed-up life so far... no offense, sugar-plum. Mommy's just got to tell it like it is. And the way "it" happens to be for us is that you just gave your mother the best damn lay she's had in years. So for the last time, I'm telling you to get with the freakin' program, because you're in it... in Mommy... for the LONG haul."

Kyle hunched, head bowed and ears covered for maximum sense deprivation, beside his mother's monumental foot on the spotless bathroom tile. Even with sight and sound averted, though, it was tough not to get a clear image of what was happening, considering the towering scale of the woman and her noisy willingness to get the job done in a timely fashion so they didn't miss a single minute of the discussion.

            Her shrunken son supposed he should've been grateful that Roberta needed a trip to the ladies' room before the therapy session began, since any delay was welcome before re-engaging with the twisted group so his parent's head could fill with more disturbing methods to spice up her incestuous romance. Still, the fact that he had to enter the stall with her and camp by her shoes while Roberta sat comfortably on the porcelain throne and answered the call of nature, totally unbothered by her son's ability to hear everything as well as see the relief reflected in her expression, was bad enough to make the boy wish they could just enter the circle of therapeutic hell again and get it over with.

            "So sorry, baby. Mommy almost forgot to ask you if you need to go. We don't want to have to interrupt the rest of the group if you suddenly need to have a cute little piddle in twenty minutes, do we?" Roberta asked down to the boy at her feet, a satisfied grunt slanting her words. She tapped her fingernail on the edge of the toilet seat between what little space was left over from the hocks of her plump thighs straddling the bowl. "Don't worry, we can kill two birds with one stone. I can just tuck you right here. See, there's plenty of room!"

            Against his better judgment, Kyle looked up. While thankfully he was positioned close enough to the base of the commode that he could mostly just see his mom's leg flab swelling over the rounded white edge of the seat, he could also just barely spot the furry forest of Roberta's crotch. This of course reminded him that to use the facilities as she was describing would require standing on the toilet, bracing himself against the fleshy enclosure of her almost-nonexistent thigh gap, and utilizing a small opening between the seat and the giantess's hairy nethers, as well as coming into close proximity with other giant orifices currently performing their awful function. And though that opening between seat and womanhood was narrow for a six-inch-tall fellow, and Roberta was watchful enough that she would surely use her bush to catch her son if the unthinkable happened, Kyle still couldn't shake from his mind the slim but mental-breakdown-inducing chance of him accidentally slipping past his mom's fluffy labia and splashing down into the "used" waters. His mother was nothing if not wasteful, and tended not to flush until it became absolutely necessary.

            This last image was enough to ignite the boy's fight-or-flight response, and there was no hope of fighting his mother nor any part of her no matter how soft and hairy, so he abruptly sprinted. After all, this was one of the few occasions during the day the boy wasn't being clumsily grasped, taped, glued, or otherwise plugged into his over-generously proportioned parent, so despite knowing how pitiful his chances were of escape, Kyle could often only think in terms of his moment-to-moment needs. And right now, his greatest need was to get away from his gargantuan mother, plus any thoughts of coming closer to fluids that may or may not have been exiting her body. Dashing under the divider between the stalls, the boy got away from his mother without being snatched or scolded, only to find himself at the equally-disconcerting altar of another colossal female figure seated on the next-door toilet.

            Tangled around her feet, atop the rolls of her pulled-down short skirt, was a pair of panties almost large enough to be bloomers if they weren't intended for someone with so much backside flab to coat. Creeping closer to the woman's leg so as not to be seen, Kyle noticed the shape of a man half his size fixed in the wrinkled center of the underwear. While it was difficult to get a good look at the giantess on the can down here, he recognized the boy tucked in the undergarments as none other than permanently three-inch-tall Tommy from the therapy group, which meant he was currently standing beside that disgustingly open-minded loudmouth Joanne as she took care of business too before the hour of horrors began, though it was debatable for Kyle whether her current activity was any less horrific. Whether from her mouth or a different end, a lot of general awfulness was bound to be expelled.

            Fitfully anxious of being caught by either his own mother or this even louder and more obese leviathan-lady who'd taken so much inspiration from Roberta, Kyle remained still and silent, observing poor Tommy strapped in place and facing up at Joanne. After a second glance, it became clear that the little guy was surrounded in a pool of gunk which extended in a sticky patch covering the whole front quadrant of the panties. He wasn't merely floating in the puddle of congealed sweat-and-cum stew, though, but abundantly greased with it himself, and topped off with more loose hairs than a cat in shedding season. The longer he stared in utter revulsion, the more Kyle came to realize that the pubes were actually fossilized in varying layers of slime, some glued down under older slickings, while others were still swaying freely, signifying just how many times the puny passenger had been blasted with salty-and-sexual excretions, not to mention caused pubes to pluck from extreme friction.

            Though the underwear was darkest and wettest centralized around Tommy, it was clear that the entire garment, from the waistband's edge down to the silken highway which hammocked the giantess's taint, was dewy with perspiration. It certainly matched Joanne herself who, as Kyle gradually got the courage to look upward at her bulky half-squatted silhouette, was shining with sweat. Granted, the bathroom was stuffy, with hardly any airflow, but even that couldn't explain the volume of glimmering moisture oiled over most of the woman's exposed skin, from a damp sheen that matted her bangs across her forehead, to slow droplets traveling down her doughy inner thighs.

            Even from this distance, Kyle could all but feel the humidity wafting from the panties and Tommy in particular, who looked so miserable and scarcely conscious it actually took a second for the "taller" boy to confirm his compatriot wasn't conked out or even drowned in the gel-like pool. The warmth was small potatoes next to the scent, however, throat-punchingly potent and almost instantly dizzying, even while the source of the smell was so much higher above them, meaning Tommy himself and stacked-up tiers of goop alone were packing the aromatic heat.

            Kyle was so used to finding himself in similar circumstances with Roberta, at first he didn't even notice that Tommy was stripped naked and lashed in place with elastic bands. At this point, witnessing such a thing was becoming commonplace for the boy, a realization which hit him almost as hard as the heady fog of Joanne's cunt juices. His own distorted perceptions aside, though, Kyle felt for his fellow therapy victim. The whole scene was almost too pathetic to look upon. While Roberta tended to keep her son around six inches so she could "feel" him better in their various activities, Kyle didn't envy Tommy the no-doubt doubled torment of being so small he couldn't even resist being submerged by the slowly-oozed sludge, damned to be worn as a panty ornament and only receiving an oxygen break by being given (almost) the worst seat in the house for witnessing his mom emptying herself of undesirable substances.

            The relative quiet of the ladies' room was shattered, then, with the ripping of a full-bodied fart into Joanne's bowl so gnarly it made Kyle fall over from surprise. The sound was undeniably that of cheese-cutting from a woman with girth ample enough to really trumpet her pre-bowel movements, especially because Joanne grumbled with relief to remove any doubt of the culprit, but it was especially unpleasant hearing the windy force echo off the porcelain interior of the white throne, like a carnivorous animal growl and a shrieking ghost at once.

            "Geesh, would it kill ‘em to crank the AC up in this building? Feels like a sauna," Joanne muttered in the puttering wake of her egregious gas-pass. She huffed, fanning her ruddy face, though it didn't appear to do much good. "Some of us tend to run a little hot-blooded, after all."

            Once Kyle recovered and stood again, since the fart had startled him with the same ferocity of a nearby gunshot, he chanced another peek up at Joanne. After spending so much time with Roberta in all her plush frumpy glory, most other women seemed like rail-thin supermodels by comparison, yet the boy was flummoxed to discover up-close-and-personal that this other mammoth mother truly had his own beat in terms of sheer lardy scope. The toilet seat, large as it seemed to someone of Kyle's size, was grossly insufficient to contain Joanne's hindquarters, which spilled over the edges like a muffin top, especially while the cellulite smushed out in all directions from the weight of her gut and those enormous sandbag-breasts drooping all the way to her quads. Her collective pudge, from her calves to her tits, glimmered with sweat and vibrated while Joanne gritted her teeth with concentration, grunting and twisting her plain-jane features like a hideous Halloween mask until she found relief.

            Kyle pinched his nose and turned his gaze back to the heap of skirt and panties at her feet, his stomach turning from the grisly chorus happening above, not to mention the stench, which somehow reached his lungs no matter how tightly he clamped his nostrils and lips shut. Though his odds of escape were still remote, the boy knew he had to get a move on before Roberta either discovered him wandering, or the zesty air of Joanne's business made him puke.

            Right when Kyle's attention diverted back to poor hapless Tommy mired in the stagnant muck, however, he saw the smaller prisoner writhing and struggling to speak. The cum and sweat had crusted over his face, making it impossible to do more than softly squeal. Though it seemed the worst idea ever, Kyle knew from personal experience that he'd have given anything in the universe for a whiff of fresh air in such a position, and so he compassionately snuck up the pile of Joanne's discarded underthings into the hot zone. As he'd guessed, the terrain of the panties was soggy and stuck to Kyle's feet like a pub floor, but he muscled past the disgust to reach the three-inch victim. Biting his tongue to withhold a retch, he scraped away the semi-dried pussy glop sculpted around Tommy's little head, until the guy could gasp up much-needed air.

            Those gulps turned to tortured coughing, which put Kyle instantly back in pre-panic mode. Though any sound Tommy made was mousey, reflective of his size, and the boys "luckily" had the thundering background noise of Joanne's groaning and toilet-splashing to disguise any shrunken whines from down in her underwear, even a slight chance of being caught made Kyle's insides flip, and this time it wasn't just the giantess's intestinal behavior making him sick.

            "Quiet..." Kyle hissed as mutedly as possible.

            "Oh, it's... it's you!" Tommy mumbled, immediately ignoring Kyle's advice by laughing aloud with soul-depth gratitude that could only come of seeing another human face after a dreadful cum-guzzling ass-burying week of experiencing nothing but his own fat-bottomed mom's raunchy privates. His tic-like show of happiness quickly returned to cold-eyed trauma, though, his expression empty as a marionette's. "Y-You... You gotta h-help me, man."

            "Seriously, keep it down," Kyle whispered back.

"I've b-been in here since m-morning," Tommy cried. "The w-whole time, just up there, n-no air or l-light or anything. I d-don't even know what t-time it is. And that was after she p-put me w-with Big Ben-"

            "Who's Big B-" Kyle interrupted.

            "-and then when I was g-glued on, she... s-stuck me up her... her... you-know-what, over and over, really fast, and it hurt so much and I c-couldn't breathe, and then she d-did it the other way..."

            "Other way? Oh... you mean..."

            "She's b-been... b-backed up. C-Constipated... all w-week, and she t-thinks if she u-uses me like that, it'll h-help. I... I c-can't take it anymore. B-Being used l-like that, being... raped... by my m-mom. My own mom. And s-she says w-we're gonna be to... t-together... forever. Oh, G-God. Oh, fuck, I... I... I'm g-gonna d-die here. Inside her, I j-just know it. S-She'll use me until I j-just break in h-half. Please, man, p-please... untie me, I h-have to get out... now! HELP. ME."

            Kyle listened silently to Tommy's fatalism, the hollow tremor in his voice conveying that the three-incher absolutely believed he was going to perish while being rammed up and down his mother's trenches. Recognizing so much of himself in this unfortunate shrinky, the plea was hard for Kyle to ignore. Still, the threat of being discovered here grew with every passing instant, and Joanne's huffing and puffing efforts were becoming less frequent as she entered the homestretch of her business upon the filthy seat.

            "Oooh, yeah... I'm almost done here, sweetie-cakes, and then we'll get ya tucked back in your favorite spot, all nice and warm and safe how you like," Joanne sighed, without looking down. "By the way, thanks again for being sooooo accommodating with Mommy this morning. I know it's been a little bit of a learning curve for both of us, getting you and Big Ben to work as a team goin' in my backdoor so everybody gets maximum pleasure, but I think we made some great progress this morning, and it really did help me get regular. Forgive me, baby... maybe you could already tell that part on your own. Either way, it was wonderful, even if we still have a little ways to go, what with training you not to make your annoying little pips and squeaks. Yes, it's cute up to a certain point, and sometimes a few choice screams let your partner know she's doin' a good job, but when we get down to business, Mommy doesn't like being interrupted. But, like I said, progress. I will remind you too, sugar-pea, that you've got your midday rent due pretty soon here. Now, not to rush ya, since Mommy likes a slow drawn-out finish as much as the next girl, but I know you remember the schedule we worked out, since we've gone over it so many times this week. You don't live in there for FREE, after all. So I expect full payment soon... very soon, in fact... or you'll be paying interest in the form of being Mommy's little booty-pet for the whole rest of the day. Right up in there. Flyin' solo, too, without Big Ben to help you, and while I know you're starting to get used to spending time back there, trust me when I say that, for once, you're not going to want to be in there right now. It's a bit... well, let's say it could use some time to air out before it has any more guests."

            As though on cue, Joanne completed this friendly reminder by letting her deceptively pleasant tone devolve back into more low-register oofing to finish the job. Ugly sound erupted from both her ends, though the next series of sputtering farts easily drowned out her grunts, and the nauseating smell expanded quickly in the muggy lavatory. The two boys stowed in her panties were at least fortunate that the woman didn't look down once while addressing her son, instead either staring straight ahead or closing her eyes to savor the relief after her constipation was temporarily kicked.

            In the midst of Joanne's speech, Kyle knew it was now or never to help the victim, and selflessly dug his fists into the caked-on layers of her glommed fluid and stray hair. Though the freshest blanketing of pussy-drool wasn't too difficult to peel through, the thicker portion below which helped keep the lad fast in place was hardened like sap, and even for a boy twice Tommy's size, it was going to take a solid five minutes to leave a dent, which was time they simply didn't have. The elastic straps were buried too deep.

            Joanne's baritone squawks and blaring toots at last diminished. Her posture shifted along with her slack panty-trap while she leaned in different directions to wipe, and merrily hummed to herself in the process. Jostled from his already tenuous grip as the woman excavated her nastiest nooks and crannies with flimsy TP, Kyle could see this was a fool's errand, no matter how bad he felt for Tommy.

            "I'm sorry, man," Kyle guiltily whispered, crawling backward as fast as he could before Joanne could reach for her skirt. "S-Stay strong."

            "W-What? NO! COME BACK!" Tommy screeched like a banshee.

            Kyle's escape came in the nick of time. Right as he set foot on the chilly tile again, Joanne's chubby-fingered mitts descended. Once she had a firm grip, she shuffled forward enough to stand. Diving behind the nearest post of the bathroom stall, Kyle craned his neck up in abhorrence at the full view of the half-naked middle-aged behemoth. At last Joanne granted her son a look, grinning at him with seething adoration that made her unknown six-inch audience's skin crawl. Now from a slight distance, it was tough to see Tommy in the sifting folds of sloppy fabric, especially with such direct comparison to the guy's ginormous parent, but Kyle could still spot his brother-in-arms string-tied and cum-glued across the hot seat. Again instinct told him to keep running, but his shame at his failure to help instead forced Kyle to unblinkingly witness the conclusion of Joanne's not-so-private time in the loo.

            After pressing the flusher, the giantess hunkered down again to pull her pants, and child, back up against her paunchy lower assets. Tommy became easier to keep track of now as his whiny weeping resumed, shrill and distinct for someone so small. The sound continued unbroken while Joanne forcefully dragged her broad-hipped garb over her fat calves and up those jiggling pillar-thighs. The higher he rode, the less decipherable Tommy's begging became, until it turned to the mewling of a boy awaiting his execution. Kyle watched in stomach-knotting awe as that skirt and matching underwear, which altogether seemed baggy as a deflated bouncy castle moments ago, were stretched tight around legs and cheeks puffy enough to need every square inch of real estate to contain. The witness couldn't help but flinch at seeing Tommy's ultimate destination: a thicket of chaotic curl-dense pubes even wilder than Roberta's, not to mention the hungry creature lurking beneath, though despite the thing's swollen bulk, it was actually difficult to get a clear glimpse of Joanne's salivating pussy through all the hair, which lined even the lips of her labia.

            With her crotch once again subject to gravity upon standing, though, the woman's furry carpet swiftly turned glistening again, sopping through with nectar dredged from her warmed-up nethers. A visible gem-like globe of cum strung itself out as long as the syrupy texture could withstand before plopping into her panties, which were raised high enough now that the gooey strand could very nearly have touched Tommy's head before breaking if aimed just right. At the moment the blob landed, Kyle flinched again, knowing quite well what it felt like to look up helplessly as a maternal drizzle collected in preparation to give him a shrunken facial.

            "See, baby, this is the proper time to play hard to get. Just like you are now," Joanne cooed, only spurred on by her boy's howling. Her fingers slowed the inching-up process of her waistband, giving Tommy just enough of a sliver of light left between the elastic panty cusp and her roomy hips for him to suck up the last bits of toilet-funked air, and for her to enjoy his submissive cries. "You really do know how to get Mommy's juices flowin' no matter where we are, don't ya? Some girls might think this wasn't an appropriate place for you to be teasing them so well, but... like I've been tellin' you, sweetie-pie, I'm different than all of them, and certainly that bitch who had the audacity to lie about sticking by you, for better or for worse. Point being, you can be yourself with me, and vice versa. For example, Mommy's always been a natural dom... you know, the one on top... but I couldn't really express it naturally with you, baby, until all of this just clicked for us last week. And now you get to see more of the real me, from every side and every angle. There's plenty more where that came from, too. Speaking of which..."

            At this moment, another gloopy string of ejaculate made its way down, shaken loose by her spirited rambling and wiggling thighs, and this time douched Tommy in the chest when it splashed to a landing.

            "Oopsie... but can you blame me, baby? No, of course you can't. Oy vey, I'm not sure I say it enough to you, Tommy, so I'll say it again: you really are Mommy's little miracle, aren't ya? Yes, because you were born to begin with, but even better than that, you've really helped Mommy come into her own. You don't know how good it feels to have someone you can be so comfortable with, going everywhere with them and doing... whatever you need to do around them, free of judgment. That's a kind of love you can't buy, and here we got it all through a happy accident... well, maybe not so happy to begin with, but happy in the end, and all the happy endings to "cum" after that. A lifesaver, sweetie, that's what you are, and the more time we spend like this, the more I realize maybe this is the way to keep ya all the time. Oh, even talkin' about it is making me ache, so I'm gonna put you back in your little house, baby, and don't forget our bargain. When you finish me off again, I just might have a little extra love stored up in there than usual, enough for a pretty big squirt... especially seeing how sensitive you've made Mommy with all this taunting today, you precious little tease, but it's nothing you can't handle. I'm sure of it. Now, come back home, won't ya?"

            Before Tommy could sound off another peep, Joanne yanked her clothing up the final two-inch distance, letting the panty fabric snap snug to her humongous curves, and with it, her son entombed in her juicy muff. Her hand found its way between her thighs, patting down her scandalously skimpy skirt until her thick fingers found the sweet spot between. Rolling her head back, the woman pushed Tommy inward and moaned again with a ravishing wheeze only slightly different than the sounds she'd made while relieving herself minutes sooner. It was possible the finger-height boy was still wailing, but Kyle couldn't hear if he was, given the layers of fabric, cum, hair, and flesh blocking out the words and binding him to his mother's loins.

            So loathsomely transfixed by the gruesome sight above, like watching a documentary of a lioness violently tearing through prey, Kyle failed to realize that he'd allowed himself to peer all the way out from behind cover. He noticed his mistake far too late, however, when Joanne's attention shifted directly to him, her eyes bulging and lips curling with offense.

            "Hey! You! W-What do you think you're DOING?" she bellowed.

            Heart stopping in his chest, Kyle bolted the opposite direction without delay, though he knew there was no chance now. He didn't make it two feet across the tiled expanse before Joanne unlatched the stall door and threw it open with a slam, hunching low to the ground and slapping her palm down on the floor in front of the tiny peeping tom to block his path.

            The impact of that chubby hand threw Kyle clean off his feet. Scrambling backward, he turned and found himself staring up into the flabby abyss below Joanne's entirely-too-short skirt. The lower she hunkered, the more of her sun-untouched thigh meat came swelling out of her undergarments, which were instead swallowed ever-thinner into the taut valley between her ballooning cheeks. These hung so low that the immense paunches of ass flesh probably could've brushed the floor if the giantess dipped just a bit lower. Heart catching in his chest, Kyle witnessed the woman's panties stretched to their most see-through extreme, allowing curly tufts of her ungardened bush to come crawling out the sides and waistband of the fabric which just barely contained her gaping cameltoe.

At the center of those plush lips, and only pushed in deeper with every inch Joanne descended toward Kyle, was the unmistakable lump of her son. Even while the inner hocks of the giantess’s legs trembled to steady her rotund frame, the little bathroom creeper below could distinguish Tommy’s own hysterical wriggling while receiving a tempting full-labia kiss from his mother’s hairy twat. Kyle heard faint crying as well, though the sound was largely blunted by the pube shrubbery and volume of fresh cunt fluid filling in the three-inch boy’s tiny throat.

“Just who do you think you are, young man, bargin’ in on a lady like that while she’s taking care of private matters?” Joanne demanded, wagging a disapproving finger at the intruder. She barreled right on without waiting to give the guy a chance to respond, though Kyle was too paralyzed anyway by the unholy tapestry of bulges, stretch marks, and hairs beneath the circus tent of her skirt. “The things you just saw are meant for the eyes of a woman and her lover alone. I suppose that’s just how boys your age get your kicks, though, huh? Shakin’ off whatever bad behaviors made it necessary to shrink you, and using your size to take advantage of vulnerable people? Can’t get a girl the normal way, so you’ve just got to perv out in the worst places and get your jollies THAT way. No… wait… I know you. You’re the rude little boy from last week that’s giving his poor mother so much trouble in getting your relationship on track. Kyle, yes? Oh, it doesn’t surprise me at all to find you down there, then, but I do have to wonder… since you’ve got your lovely patient mother to satisfy you already, just what are you doing snooping around me. Unless… oh, I understand now. Everything’s becomin’ clear. You’re after my son, aren’t you? YOU were trying to take him away from me!”

“N-No… y-you’ve got it wrong,” Kyle whimpered, though he was surprised at how close Joanne had come to guessing correctly, despite her paranoia.

“Don’t try and play dumb, you little thief. I see right through you,” Joanne accused. She jabbed a thick fingertip into Kyle’s chest, making him lose his balance again. Narrowing her gaze and wrinkling her lip for a withering sneer, she combed back stray hairs from of her sightline, where they adhered to her sweaty forehead. She peered instead between her legs. The same hand she’d just used to ward off Kyle massaged her upper thigh, until her fingers sought out the naked sacrifice’s body through her paltry underthings, pinching almost as though to confirm he was still where she’d left him. “Was this mean little boy tryin’ to steal ya away from me, baby? Sticking his hands where they don’t belong and filling your precious head with silly ideas? Don’t you worry. Mommy doesn’t miss a thing, and I promise, nobody is taking you from me, least of all some selfish panty-snatcher who wants to break up other people’s relationships too, because it’s not enough to hurt his own mother’s feelings so much! Come inside now, where the scary little thieves can’t get you, sweetie-cake.”

Joanne’s fingers no longer merely fondled her cum-wrung son through the cloth, but lined themselves along his narrow spine and began pushing the quarter-foot lad deeper into the slimy embrace of her crotch. The more pressure she applied, nudging Tommy within, Kyle could actually see her womanhood’s fat petals blossoming off to the underwear’s sides, bristling with fur and rising like fleshy tidal waves to engulf the meager portion of her panties that still covered up her sensitive regions. Though the thrashing and squeals from her pussy-dweller intensified, it either went ignored, or even served to egg her on further. Soon Joanne’s fingertips and a sopping Tommy along with them dipped inside past the threshold of that nectar-dribbling labia, and if Kyle wasn’t so small and close to the ground that he could see the panty string extending up and into the woman’s ass crack, he might’ve sworn she was wearing no underwear at all. Tommy’s pitiful resistance was easily outmuscled by the caving walls of his giant mom’s cooch, though his ejaculate-choked scream could still be heard.

Once Tommy was fully submerged, Joanne’s jaw hung partially open in almost dumbstruck elation. She groaned from deep in her belly, clenching her eyes shut for a moment, and when they reopened she focused back on the son-stealing mini-man at her feet. Immediately her erotic grunt curled into a protective mama-bear growl.

“How do ya like THEM apples, you little homewrecker?” Joanne grumbled at Kyle, her tone a hideous mix of fury and horniness. It didn’t help that every other syllable spoken was heightened by the brain-scrambling euphoria of her fingers pulsating Tommy against her inner pussy lips. “Just how do you think you’re gonna steal my son now, huh? That’s right, you’re not. Oh, this really is rich. You got a lot of chutzpah on you, ya know that? How dare you try and steal my boy from me, not only because he’s all I’ve got in this world that matters, but because we’re just starting to find ourselves in the best relationship either of us has ever had. Just because he happens to be smaller than you does NOT give you the freedom to push him around or shove your own sickness down his throat. You really are somethin’, I’ll tell ya what. Maybe somebody ought to teach you a lesson. Yes, now there’s an idea. Goodness knows you’ve probably already earned yourself some good old-fashioned teaching, what with disobeying your mother like your life depends on it. You’re certainly a good deal smaller than Big Ben and Tommy put together, but if it was you hitching a ride instead… well, it might be a little tight, but nothing we can’t get past with some extra grease and a can-do attitude. Might take a while, sure, but… I’ve got time. I’ll make time if it means putting you in your place. Or I suppose in my place…”

Joanne’s menace devolved into mumbling fantasy. She closed her eyes again and bit her lower lip with her entire top row of teeth while applying three unbent fingertips to what little part of her son’s lump still visibly bulged from her soggy panties, though Tommy could hardly be detected now, with the majority of his body swallowed within his parent’s drooling canal. It was plain she was no longer solely picturing her own son swimming in her juices and full-body stroking the hyper-sensitive interior, but a visitor double his size. Thighs heaving slightly and drooped buttocks bouncing, Joanne pumped her boy and let loose several low oomphs like a gorilla, swabbing her fingers back and forth against the swollen folds.

The harder she worked, the deeper Tommy and the spattered underwear were gulped by her crotch, until the labia completely enclosed them. By now, cum was glooping out and landing in shining splotches in front of Kyle on the tile below, giving him good reason to keep backpedaling away from the sexual horror. Despite Joanne’s easy distraction in her horned-up state, however, the six-inch boy had no illusions about his chances of flight; the woman above him was a sloppy force of nature, perhaps even worse than his own mother, who could quickly snatch him up before he had the chance to run, and her previous threat to give him a ride up her cunt in retaliation for his compassion sure didn’t sound like a bluff.

“What’s all the fuss out here?” Roberta asked, suddenly emerging from her stall with a piece of toilet paper obliviously stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She smiled at Joanne, clearly not bothered in the slightest by her co-groupie’s suggestive activity hunched on the floor, then raised an eyebrow at the sight of her child cowering nearby. “Kyle, baby? What are you doing all the way over there?”

Kyle never thought he’d be glad to see his mother come looking for him, certainly not after such a recent bathroom trip, but he supposed there was a first time for everything, and right now, he was prepared to put up with a lot of hell in order to be rescued from grabbing-range of the sweaty big-bottomed mother-ogress he’d just offended. Unreasonable though Roberta could be, this was surely one of the few instances where she’d take his side and swoop him back to temporary safety before Joanne got any more filthy ideas. Hell, as long as he was dreaming of best-case scenarios, maybe she’d be so insulted at the other mom’s intention to stick someone else’s shrunken property in off-limits zones, that Roberta would declare the group therapy too much of a risk, and refuse to bring them back here.

“I’ll tell you what your naughty little boy’s been up to, Roberta,” Joanne haughtily declared. She stood, albeit with rasping effort, and though she’d ceased actively jamming her diminutive son betwixt the flaps, she was in no hurry to extract her moistened fingers out from under her skirt. With one hand occupied, the other pointed down at the doll-height culprit, who now found himself on the receiving end of glowering stares from two homely middle-aged titanesses instead of the usual one, made all the worse by the fact that Roberta’s expression only furrowed with shame the longer Joanne spoke: “I was mindin’ my own business in the stall, with my poor Tommy left out in the open down there for his afternoon break, and this little snoop got it into his head to stick his nose where it wasn’t wanted. Tried to make off with my boy while I was distracted, see. And… well, I wouldn’t dream of making false insinuations about your family, dear, because I know you’ve had to try so very hard to get even minimal effort from him, but… I suspect Kyle here has got the same unfortunate ideas about splittin’ me and Tommy up, the same way he’s tried so hard to stand in the way of your happiness, too.”

“Oh, my,” Roberta gasped. Throwing a hand over her heart, and in the process jostling her perspiration-swamped bosom, she collected herself for a moment, looking to the ceiling as though for spiritual strength, then shot her attention straight down her son again. “Kyle! Is… is this true?”

Her son instinctively hung his head, not even bothering to offer a defense, knowing now that his case wouldn’t matter in the slightest to Roberta, when she’d already sympathized so deeply and instantaneously with Joanne. Then again, he supposed at this point he had only himself to blame for believing that, just once, he might see a shred of justice when his basic survival instinct was mistaken for shrunken treachery. To the tune of disappointed motherly clucking, the shadow of Roberta’s hand descended to collect her misbehaving son.

“Look, Roberta honey, it’s none of my business to impose myself into your affairs like this, but have you thought about kickin’ things up a notch, discipline-wise, with your boy?” Joanne casually suggested before the attentive group, despite every element of her person from her passive-aggressive voice to her confident posture suggesting she absolutely saw it as her business. “I hope you don’t mind me saying.”

“Of course I don’t mind” Roberta sighed. She looked down in disillusionment at the six-inch boy cradled in her thick lap, obviously embarrassed for herself and on his behalf after the alleged stall-peeping. “I’m certainly open to ideas. After all the progress Kyle and I have been making, I’d have thought he was past conduct like this, but… when his actions go beyond getting in the way of his own improvement, and start affecting others too, then I believe that means it’s time for some outside inspiration. Even if that means something more drastic than before. Did you… have something in mind, Joanne?”

“You might say it’s a little like the carrot and the stick method,” Joanne continued. Though once again the two loudest and most domineering women in the room had totally hijacked the session, nobody else seemed to mind, including the therapist herself, who offered only a quiet smile at the natural progress being made. “So far, it sounds like you’ve only been coming at him with ideas to spice up your love life… teases, games, things that only bring him pleasure in new ways. The carrot method, in other words. Maybe you’re afraid of hurtin’ his feelings, or think he might fold under the pressure, so you hold off from exercising your authority more, and… well, I know I’ve only been in a full-on relationship with my boy for a week now, but he’s improved as a person and a lover by leaps and bounds, and he’s half Kyle’s size. So, darlin’, I’m sure whatever worries ya might have about your little scamp not being able to handle his mama gettin’ tougher now and again, when he needs it, they don’t matter. Trust me. He can take it. Put the carrot down sometimes and use the stick. And I think the best place to start is with what he’s most afraid of. Make him work through that, and you’ll never have to worry about him chickening out again.”

“I see,” Roberta dreamily replied, just as deep in thought now as Joanne had been last time when discovering the revolutionary possibilities of dating one’s enslaved shrunken son. Kyle quivered, despite not currently being numbingly coddled between mountainous cleavage or frothing pussy lips. That thoughtful gleam in his mom’s eye, and its future potential, was every bit as scary as a gushing dam-burst of cum seeping through her panties. “I… think he’s most afraid of…”

“Go on, Roberta,” the therapist gently encouraged.

“You already know the answer, and after everything you’ve told us, so do we,” Joanne said with a bawdy chuckle.

“…my bottom.”

Kyle winced just at the naming of it. Much as he hated every sweaty, cellulite-rippling destination he was ever forced to endure on his mother’s colossal landscape of a body, her rump was undeniably the worst, and especially the hellhole buried at the center of those burly cheeks.

“Bingo,” Joanne said, taking charge more and more. She adjusted herself in her seat, sifting her malleable cheek flab to spill from one side of the undersized chair to the other. The furniture’s legs creaked like a ship’s hull. Upon pushing her thighs closer together and pointlessly smoothing down whatever scrap of skirt partly concealed her underwear, she paused with her mouth open, evidently savoring whatever sensations had resulted from her repositioning and Tommy’s exhilarating shape. “Unless ya think he’s more scared of me now, of course. I suppose I did give him a little scare before we got started today. Now, I don’t regret protecting my family, and I think you’ll agree, Roberta, your boy was out of line in a way that made it necessary for me to give him a piece of my mind, but either way, I think I made a BIG impression. And if that’s the case, just know I’d be more than happy to lend a hand in setting him straight. It’s the least I can do, teachin’ him a little lesson for ya, after that master’s course on child-rearing you gave all of us last time.”

“That’s… an interesting thought,” Roberta admitted, nibbling the corner of her lip. Her fingers nonchalantly fondled her son’s midsection, but even while she was publicly fluffing him, Kyle’s attention was devoted exclusively to the horrific things coming from Joanne’s mouth. “How exactly might you lend a hand?”

“Oh, there’s any number of things I could do,” Joanne said with a flighty wave. “Suppose we swapped boys, just for the day. Now, I know they’re not the same size, so you might worry Kyle is too big for any educational activities I have in store, but trust me, there’s more than enough room for him in either end, so we might even kill two birds with one stone, and correct both his fears at once: me, and especially big butts. Hey, I’m not so embarrassed of my body to admit I’ve got one of those! See, right now, if Tommy and I want to reach a little “deeper” in our playtime, the only solution is stickin’ him to his partner in crime, Big Ben. You know how small he is, after all, and I’d be liable to lose the poor thing somewhere that I couldn’t even get him back. But with a bit more length, a bit more thickness… say, the kind on a six-inch boy instead of three… well, we’d be in business. Granted, such a boy wouldn’t be able to plumb quite so far inside, or hit all the nooks and crannies as hard, but I’m sure there are other benefits. Good as Tommy is to me when he’s tag-teaming with Big Ben, it can be tough to feel him moving sometimes. And I sure do like some squirmin’ from my partners, ya know?”

Roberta hadn’t blinked yet at this proposal, while Kyle was all but convulsing in her hands.

“Speaking of which…” Joanne laughed, her booming joy filling the room again. She scootched her jiggly thighs apart again until her sodden pube-lined panties were visible to everyone in the room, and stared at the exposed patch of messy fabric. Sure enough, the lump in the center of her undergarments was squirming around like a grub, making the sap-heavy hairs around him sway. “…it feels like somebody down below is getting riled up at all this talk about someone else moving in on his territory! What’s the matter, baby? Jealous? Don’t like the thought of lettin’ the mean bathroom boy take a turn in your favorite clubhouse? Oh, don’t you worry. Mommy’s not replacin’ ya. Just offering to help out our dear new friends. But you’ll always be Mommy’s special sugar-pumpkin, down in Mommy’s special place.”

To drive home the point of her loyalty, Joanne’s hand snaked between her thighs, peeling the damp fabric just far enough away from her ravenous womanhood that she could pinch her son skin-to-skin. Then, thrusting backward in the seat until her swelling cheeks threatened to snap the chair’s back, she recommenced plunging him in and out of the orifice with some unsubtle massaging. Though he remained concealed behind the sticky veil of her panties for reasons of “politeness,” the cloth may as well have been translucent. A couple quiet gasps sounded from around the room, though out of intrigue rather than disgust, and in fact the group seemed just as at ease with this turn of events as they had been with Roberta and Joanne turning the session into their own personal mother-son training ground.

Kyle couldn’t see Joanne well from here, but the imagery of her fatty lower quadrants sagging out of her underwear was now seared into his memory, pounds upon pounds of pear-shaped flab barely strapped in place by garments made for a woman dramatically less ample than her. Already that up-skirt view of plump folds, oozing secretions, and chaotic pube carpeting was more than intimate enough, and he wasn’t even the one sewn into her underwear. To get any closer, to not only see, hear, and smell it but also feel and taste it himself was almost too awful to contemplate, yet it was impossible not to, with Joanne carrying on like this. Even from a distance, he could hear the sloshing and slapping of the tiny naked man bouncing back and forth against her puckered nethers, an echo that made his blood freeze over in his veins, though it was nothing compared to the disturbance he felt upon looking up again at his gigantic mother’s hopeful smirk.

“Well, sweetie? What do you say?” Roberta asked, the hint of a smile on her thin lips widening to a jack-o-lantern grin. “Maybe Joanne’s right. Her nice big rear end just might be the ticket to purging you of all these little hang-ups that are holding you back from embracing this, embracing us.”

Rather than awaiting an answer, Roberta picked up her son and turned him to face the group. Haunted by the acceptance he saw in the eyes of all the giantesses present, his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of Joanne standing from her chair. Like what he’d seen hiding while below her well-used commode, her rise was akin to an elephant sleepily awakening, hefting its trembling bulkage on high. The woman gradually swiveled herself around in a sickening approximation of a catwalk turn, the geometry of her protruding ass cheeks pushing the chair to the side in the process. Once she had her barely-skirted backside on display for Kyle, she only had to pluck the hem up by a little to let him appreciate the naked haunches of her sizable tush in full. Her panties still covered a small fraction of her buttocks, running like a thread-narrow seam through her squishy crackline, but for all intents and purposes, she was mooning the terrified six-inch boy with nothing but air between him and a nude set of doorframe-scraping glutes that could’ve flattened Kyle into two dimensions without even trying.

Unconsciously, Kyle felt his mother’s hands slowly lifting him closer to that massive caboose, but the monument of round flesh seemed so huge already, he hardly noticed it until he was held less than a foot away. With the skirts hiked up and her back arched to pronounce her humongous assets even more blatantly, Joanne’s hands were free to slide back down her cheeks, fingers suggestively drumming and setting of tremors that made her skin undulate all the way down to the calves. A palm flat to each hemisphere, she scrunched her fingers to clutch a chubby handful of buttock flab in each mitt, demonstrating the true volume of pliable flab that coated her bum. Then, pulsing her digits for a few practice-squeezes, she pulled the halves apart. Little by little, the crevice gave way to a deep valley, glinting with layers of congealed butt sweat and the string of her panties only just covering her wrinkled anus.

“Joanne would love to do a little trade, baby. Just for one day,” Roberta whispered hotly in her son’s ear. Her loving tone seethed with ominous promise. “But maybe that’s not enough? Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all, and if you ask me, getting you to shape up for me is turning out to be just as big of a job as that. All I ask is that you try to contribute a little more in our bonding time, and you can’t even do that. So what if we said a whole WEEK with Joanne and her big ol’ behind instead? Who knows, maybe then you’d see whether the grass was truly greener on the other side. I’ve told you it’s not, but you still don’t seem to believe your Mommy who loves you so much and only wants the best for you. If you want the proof, here’s your chance to experience it firsthand.”

“I d-don’t wanna d-do that… M-Mom… Mommy… p-please, Mommy, d-don’t…” Kyle whined, unable to keep that babyish name for his tormentor from slipping out while so humbled in the presence of Joanne’s eager ass. The tears flowed involuntarily, blurring his vision of that ghastly anal valley before he even realized the panic had made his every shrunken muscle seize.

Even through his weeping haze, though, the boy had no choice but to make Joanne’s propped-up undercarriage his whole shrunken worldview. No matter how high or low he craned his neck, his mother was pointing him too close to the eye of the storm now to see beyond the ballooning plus-size lumps of those cheeks, nor the sweat-shaded silk of her panties, with the tenuous fibers strained nearly to the point of shredding especially while stretched down the central alley, where her blemished flesh darkened around the backdoor socket, as well as lower down, where even from poised so close to the divide of her ass, Kyle could make out the curly freak show of her front side.

With her buttocks pointed up so high and her thighs set apart, her bush was free to splay even wider than usual out the edges of the undersized cloth which coated her fat camel-toed loins. As she was no longer actively jabbing Tommy into the cavity, the tremoring bulge of her three-inch hostage became visible again, her underwear especially soaked around him, with the gooey surplus dripping along wild hairs like drain pipes after heavy rain, weighing down the pubes then plunking to the floor between her feet when they became too heavy.

“Whatcha think, Roberta, dear?” Joanne huskily murmured. Giving her excess cheek flab another double-fisting squeeze, she rocked her hips, letting her doughy thighs slap together and her ass-crack briefly narrow again on each sashaying repetition, when the pudgy twin halves of her rear vibrated and swayed. “Would ya be up for a good old fashioned boy-toy trade?”

“I suppose only Kyle can answer that for sure,” Roberta replied with utmost cheer, though a hint of a threatening passive-aggressive snarl shown through at her son. “What’s the verdict, baby? Are you getting too bored of your Mommy and ready for a little more excitement in your life?”

The hand wrapped around Kyle suddenly thrust forth the final remaining inches, and abruptly he couldn’t even see all of Joanne’s over-inflated bubble-butt at once, because his face was rammed directly at the sinkhole in the middle of the whole blubbery mass. Since the string of Joanne’s soggy panties were so tenderly concealing the orifice already, all it took was Roberta aggressively bumping her child’s head against the quivering pucker to nudge aside the last bit of coverage protecting Kyle from the woman’s most vulgar regions.

She didn’t hold him for longer than a few seconds face-first to Joanne’s anus, but even in that skin-creeping period, he could feel her sticky heat-billowing portal pulsing, as though the woman was struggling not to flare the hole open to greet an object which could so easily slide within and have space to spare. Roberta then smeared Kyle’s face just off to the side, swirling his head around the damp rim in aching revolutions. The whole way, his face was accosted by the few reedy hairs which somehow endured the harsh subterranean environment of the giantess’s sweaty flesh-pressurized rectum area. With her fragrant anal saltwater being kneaded into his cheeks, and itchy hairs raking his little features like sandpaper, Kyle lost whatever survivalist composure he’d reserved and let loose a scream so horrendous it immediately cracked his tiny voice hoarse.

“NO! FUCK, NO!” he roared as violently as his miniscule scale and defensively-shut throat would allow, which came at the cost of tonguing an asshole-hair right as it swept his lips. “I’M… NOT… GOING… IN… THERE!”

“My, my, Roberta. Again, I hesitate to suggest anything’s gone wrong with your parenting style, when you’ve got so many good ideas… and I do realize it’s not your fault that he’s going through a classic adolescent rebellion stage… but this boy of yours really does tend to look a gift horse in the mouth, doesn’t he?” Joanne muttered. She snorted as Kyle carried on with unintelligible whimpers. “Nice as it would be to have a boy twice Tommy’s size now and again, my baby certainly doesn’t keep me waitin’ this way, and he’s already learned when to keep his adorable little mouth shut.”

“Kyle!” Roberta gasped, affronted by his behavior and mortified with embarrassment at once. Providing her son with one last hard loop around Joanne’s hole, depressing the bountiful cellulite even at this tightest portion of the valley, she extracted Kyle from between the deep cheeks and slipped him right back into the saggy pocket of her own cleavage, which was made even easier given the amount of sweat now coating the boy’s naked form, both from his own fear and surplus from Joanne’s ass. Grasping his head in a vice between her thumb and forefinger, she yanked him closer to the apex of her chest, nearly giving the shrinker a crimp in his neck when the walls of tit brawn got too taut to slide any deeper. “Just where are your manners, young man? I thought I raised you better than this! Can’t you see Joanne is just being a sweetie and trying to help us out of the goodness of her heart? You really can’t recognize when you’ve got a good thing going, can you, baby? Oh, well. I’m certainly not going to make her deal with you and your mood swings, not until you’ve remembered how to be polite around our friends. Sorry, Joanne dear. Maybe next time.”

The plumper MILF sighed in raspy exasperation, clearly exhaling a great deal of sexual frustration. In the process of blowing out the disappointment, her titanic cheeks swelled ever so slightly, while the hair-dotted spout of her asshole fully parted for an instant, an unclenching of anticipation as well as a delayed reaction to nearly having a six-inch companion to partially fill the void inside.

“That’s all well and good, Roberta darlin’, but I’d be lyin’ if I said all this build-up didn’t leave me feeling just a little let down,” Joanne said. Turning around again, she looked at every smiling face in the room again, then added with total confidence: “This tushie of mine is in serious need of some play now. Ya can’t let a girl get all warmed up like that and then just leave her hangin’. I’m not sure it’s the law, exactly, but it certainly ought to be. Anyway, it’s no secret my behind is… well, there’s more of me to love than on the average skinny-bitch, let’s say, which means it goes a lot easier if I’ve got someone to help me out. And Tommy, bless him, does his best, but at his size, he can’t do much back there except enjoy the ride. A bit like a baby bird tryin’ to fly in a tornado, you know? So what do you say to helping me out with a little consolation prize? Maybe teach your boy a thing or two with a live demonstration?”

“I think that sounds like a lovely compromise. Which is something Kyle and I have been striving for recently,” Roberta said, flashing her son a meaningful glare down in the puffy gulch, where he’d already sunk down to his neck, his eyelids fluttering while his mother’s bosom slowly squelched the luxury of air from his lungs. “Everyone, please do excuse us, and thank you so much for the indulgence!”

Squinting, and on the verge of shriveling into himself, Kyle peered blearily around at the therapy victims and victimizers. The full-sized ladies returned his gaze, but only with affectionate acceptance for the romantic strides the two middle-aged “better halves” were making in their respective relationships. With a final polite nod to their happy enablers, Roberta and Joanne made their way single-file for the door in search of privacy, one boy adorning his mother’s swinging rack, and the other lower down and still silently screaming against a stunted avalanche of cum.

Now isolated in a smaller room meant for one-on-one sessions, though in this case two-on-two, Roberta and Joanne made themselves comfortable in the sturdier leather seats, which were better equipped to handle obese chair-flooding buttocks spilling over the sides like spare tires anyway, though the larger woman hunched backward on the cushioning, preparing to peel her undergarments out of the flab-trap.

Having been pried just a little higher between the paunches of his mom’s udders again, if only to keep him from getting squashed too dizzily, Kyle for the life of him couldn’t comprehend why this activity required a separate space from the rest of the group, given that the pair of shameless mothers were already perfectly comfortable openly talking about, and showing off, their drooling crotches and dark assholes to an audience of near-strangers. Somehow the presence of other people gave him at least some semblance of comfort in case the raunchy seductions ever turned life-threatening, though this was largely a psychological protection and nothing more, considering the things that had already been done to him in that room, or been gruesomely imagined aloud, without the slightest peep of an objection from anyone present.

With her panties already dragged halfway down her pancaked thighs for ease of access, Joanne was busily picking her son’s binds loose, which was tricky business considering the volume of fluid cemented around Tommy held him more securely than the elastic straps themselves. Her determination couldn’t be denied, though, and once he was left floating loose in the hammock of her extra-extra-large panties, dipped low from the weight of congealed liquid, Joanne produced a handkerchief from her purse and swaddled her fragile three-incher into the temporarily warm dry folds. The fabric quickly stained through with bodily sap glued so thick around Tommy that it made him appear 30% larger.

Wrinkling her wide-nostriled snout, almost as though surprised to observe just how much gloop and muff hairs had been molded to her son like the world’s worst arts-and-crafts project, the woman used the cloth to towel away some of the most apparent filth, though seemingly more out of politeness to their company than to help her little offspring breathe better. She swabbed the sex-scented cream off his head, chest, and crotch, while also plucking free nearly enough stray pubes to make a shrunken wig for someone of roughly Tommy’s pathetic stature. Though far from spotless, but at least no longer offensively obvious in his pussy-camping status, the boy was bundled back into a makeshift knapsack within the handkerchief and handed over to Roberta.

“So sorry about the mess, darlin’. But you know better than anyone that you can’t have romance this way without there being a little clean-up on the other end,” Joanne sheepishly declared, mopping off a droplet of sticky leftovers that had soaked through the cloth. She grasped the back of the seat for balance, bending herself over even lower. “What can ya do, after all?”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain. Believe me,” Roberta reassured with a knowing chuckle. “Let’s get this little cutie of yours ready to set a good example for Kyle.”

Blinded inside the kerchief, with the spectacled giantess’s clammy palm cupping beneath his feather-weight, Tommy desperately wished to be let out again, if only to enjoy regular airflow outside these stuffy confines for a few more precious seconds before whatever torture was to follow deprived him yet again of life-force. He got his wish for just a moment when the cloth was peeled back again, but when he looked up, the boy was staring into the plastic mouth of a lotion bottle the size of a water tower. Roberta’s plush fingers compressed, pumping out an air bubble followed by a hurtling blob of skin moisturizer. The stuff splattered all over Kyle, covering most of his body and mixing with what remained of his parent’s dried-on cum. It was at least a more pleasant-smelling alternative to the usual baths he took in sweet-and-sour middle-aged cunt nectar, but still with enough of a chemical whiff off-setting the lilac bouquet at this large quantity that he was left woozy and even more bewildered.

Roberta’s fingers clawed up around the little man in the parachute of Joanne’s personal napkin, swooping him in near to his mother again right as the woman tilted her wiggly rear in their direction. It made the boy feel once again as though he was heading straight for a crash landing on a hostile planet, complete with craggy terrain and mini mole-shaped craters over the surface, not to mention a sunken geyser opening in the shadowy middle, where the heavily-padded hills united along the perspiration-glazed hair-flecked darkness of her most sensitive but not-so-private crevice.

Of course this fat-bootied “heavenly body” was too vivacious for the little guy to be convinced he was simply about to be buried in pale-peach-hued earth; Joanne was bobbing in place, waving her pendulous cheeks about to invite her lotion-lubed son into the jiggly fray. The seismic effort of Tommy’s eager mom not only made her derriere lard undulate for seconds on end after each quake ceased, but exerted her already-overheated ass-crack just enough to shake loose two warring trickles of sweat that traveled from her upper back all the way down the racetrack of her taint, leaving a fresh glisten around her anus before joining the soak-fest of her hairy womanhood in front.

The room was hot with anticipation now, even from Roberta, though Tommy knew it was just as easily his own pre-breakdown nerves and the magma-like humidity of his mom’s keister giving this impression. It was close now. That heinous asshole tightened one final pulse in preparation, then loosened along with the rest of the woman’s flaccid glutes. He hadn’t yet found the courage to open his mouth and cry havoc, but the second his mother’s new best friend had eased his puny feet up to Joanne’s unpuckered brown-eye and shoved his legs through, he started screaming on a continuous loop, and only did so louder and more deranged the deeper Roberta pushed him.

His journey into his mom’s asshole was abominably gradual, almost lover-like in its softly twisting style thanks to her helper’s guidance, though again Tommy and Kyle understood this choice was mainly an attempt by Roberta to avoid hurting Joanne with too quick an entry through her once-tight anal cavity, rather than considering the human anal plug’s feelings on the matter. Naturally, Roberta needn’t have been too worried about causing discomfort, since Joanne was more than ready, doing little more than sensitively twitching upon feeling part of her son’s three-inch body wetly thrashing just inside her dank fanny hole. The lotion coating only sealed the deal, and once Roberta had nudged Tommy inside his mom down to his stomach, Joanne’s asshole did the rest, clamping and sucking him inside like a second mouth with a lollipop, until his chin was pressed to her sphincter, leaving everything below Tommy’s Adam’s apple to windmill against the curved tunnel walls inside.

Satisfied with her handiwork, and encouraged by the throaty moan Joanne gave off in time with her giddily bouncing cheeks, Roberta set down the handkerchief and leaned back in her seat to spectate. Meanwhile Kyle’s view wasn’t terribly clear, especially after his mother’s focused efforts to send Tommy cave-diving in his parent’s butthole had caused her tits to squish nearer together around him, but she wasn’t content to watch the show alone. Her fingers burrowed through the pliable depths of her pale veiny jugs, dragging Kyle back up by one thin arm with such force that she nearly dislocated her son’s shoulder while pulling against the supreme leaden forces imparted by her rack.

The six-inch boy had hoped to have his view of the anal carnage between Joanne and Tommy obscured, but knew this was an unrealistic dream, and tried not to grunt too loudly in pain when Roberta tugged him back out of her sweaty cleavage for the umpteenth time, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself, lest his mom get any more ideas today about including him in the lesson plan. He wasn’t going to miss a single element of the action now though, from the titillated winces in Joanne’s stretched-open anus, to Tommy’s inhuman shrieks for mercy, to the trail of semi-liquid lotion diluted by rectal sweat trickling its way back out of the portal amidst all the gyrating.

With her cheeks still spanned out to their widest extent, allowing the ceiling fluorescents to harshly illuminate every disgusting nook and cranny of the cursed valley, Joanne’s sultry grumbling soon turned to almost-hiccupping giggles. It seemed she knew something the others didn’t, though they were soon to find out, and Tommy most hellishly of all, when an acidic gut-gurgle announced itself from deep within her bowels, followed by a rumble traveling through in a straight shot. The fart wasn’t a true ripper, and in fact more of a modest toot by the woman’s usual gastrointestinal standards, but still erupted forth with enough gusto that the pressure of Joanne’s anal lips around her son’s neck loosened just briefly enough to let the foul smog flow out like a blast of muggy hurricane wind. As well as momentarily turning the boy’s features rubbery like an air cannon at full power, his hair was blown back into disarray, a humorous image that couldn’t help but draw a guffaw from Roberta and another snicker from Joanne, who of course couldn’t see around the plump obstruction of her own rump, but knew the sensation well enough to picture her son’s expression.

“Geez Louise, Joanne,” Roberta gaped, feigning ill-mannered shock for a second before both women shared another round of mirth together. “What did you have for lunch today?”

“TERRIBLY sorry. That’s all on me,” Joanne gushed, also playing up the playful sense of false guilt, when in fact it was just her son who had it all “on him” in terms of eggy backdoor stench now. “But you know how they say. Better out-”

“-than in,” Roberta finished for her with an amiable wink.

“Ya know, darlin’, I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

Kyle meanwhile was left to shiver and sweat in his mom’s cleavage, which was all but pulsating now with her elevated heartrate, not only from the tremors in her cans but his own all-too-natural reaction at getting a hard whiff of feminine wind-breaking seemingly on par with a mustard gas bomb. He could only imagine what Tommy was going through, though he could also rely on his own revolting recent memories for an accurate guess, which only increased the sensory torment, inhaling the fumes of the toot and having them amplified in his addled mind upon being reminded of the similar air-pollution lurking inside his own mom. Though not quite the same, either, since Kyle was coming to learn that apparently all frumpy frizzy-haired incest-crazed giantesses had a unique set of odors and shapes unique to their repugnant lower halves, much like a fingerprint or set of dental records. Reveling in dismayed horror for both Tommy and his own future self, Kyle tried unsuccessfully to cough through the last remnants of gassy lung-poisoning air, while Roberta and Joanne laughed their way to full BFF-ship.

“That’ll just about do me, I think,” Tommy’s monstrous mother heaved. Slumping forward against the leather chair for support, she fumbled to find her panties tangled in her thigh gap, though it took a few failed grabs, preoccupied as she was by the three-inch anal voyager still squirming and stimulating her closer to the need for orgasm. “I can’t thank ya enough for the assist, Roberta. Really. That just hit the spot. It seems my baby and I get a little somethin’ out of these visits every time now, even if there are occasional missteps.”

“Don’t mention it, dear, really. And thank you for reminding me as well,” Roberta said. Her tone abruptly jolted to a less-sunny croon as she wrenched her own comparatively double-size son from the numbing embrace of her marshmallowy cans, holding him close to her sparsely peach-fuzzed upper lip and glowering at him beneath the rim of her glasses. “I’m sure Kyle’s going to leave here today with just as much to think about as me. Aren’t you, baby? I may not have raised as polite a young man as I used to think, but I certainly didn’t raise a dunce. It’s shape up with Mommy or ship out with Joanne. The choice is entirely up to you.”

“Yes, I can’t imagine you could make it any plainer than that,” Joanne chortled. “Will you two be heading back to the group?”

“No, I… think we’ve got plenty to work on amongst ourselves already,” Roberta said after some thought. “There’s too much good work to be done.”

She eyed Tommy’s hapless wailing head one last time as his mom’s cheeks were allowed to clap weightily back together around him, when the woman finally stopped white-knuckling the extra girth to keep it good and spread. Kyle caught a new sparkle in his own mother’s stare, obviously mulling deeply over the atrocities she’d just so gladly witnessed.

“I think we’re gonna do the same,” Joanne said, then mischievously added: “Plus, it’ll give the others back in there a chance to get in a word edge-wise. Not exactly big talkers, are they?”

“The sweet things. They’ve got a lot to learn still,” Roberta sighed while twirling a finger around her son’s head and causing him to sink deeper between the greasy slabs of her tits. “I say the sooner they all openly embrace this lifestyle the same way you and I have, the faster they’ll have their relationships back on track.”

“Too right! We’ll see ya again here soon though, won’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Suctioned horizontally in the center of Roberta’s signature cheek-shaped crunched-in bowl dents in the bedroom drywall, Kyle felt the telltale itch of another mysterious dollop of intermingled fluid dripping its way down the side of his head. They’d been at this for an hour already, with no signs of stopping, and as a result, it was impossible to tell apart Roberta’s free-flowing ejaculate from the Vaseline she’d globbed him with twice over from head to toe. It was likely the woman’s juices now accounted for the majority of syrupy liquids currently plinking off of Kyle like reverse Chinese water torture, though, despite how liberally she’d applied the lube-substitute before the games began.

Despondent as the repetitive doggy-style routine with his mom’s pussy had left him, as it always did, the boy clung to a shred of consciousness, if only to stay focused on the single-minded dread of the inevitable head-first ass-fucking Roberta still had in store for him. She’d teased, threatened, and even sampled this act for so long now, but her kinship with Joanne had seemingly accelerated her twisted relationship with her son toward serving the ultimate judgment as a toy for her butt.

Having considered his universally terrible options from every angle, the unthinkable truth that this was going to happen was at last settling into the poor boy’s brain. It was made simple for him now: the alternative meant going with Joanne for a week, if not a month, based on how easily the two women kept agreeing to up the ante together. And having experienced just how carefree and “open-minded” Joanne was about sticking barely-legal boys of all sizes right into her asshole in the sight of God, friends, and therapists, Kyle understood that a failure to meet his mother’s demands would probably result in plumbing Joanne’s even-more-nauseating depths within ten minutes of being placed in her grubby rapist hands.

Thus accepting his anal-based fate as much as was possible without permanently losing his mind, Kyle looking unblinkingly onward as his mother’s sex-moistened naked mountain of a body backed ass-first toward the wall. He half-expected her to just go for it without further preamble, but as usual, the woman halted once just inches away, because she couldn’t simply let her boy be powerlessly humiliated; she also had to help him recall exactly what was happening, and what was at stake, so he could stew in that ugly reality throughout while also physically stewing in the rank, odorous, sweat-slimed trench of her butthole.

“Don’t be afraid, baby,” Roberta slurred, her voice like a soothing lullaby, as though she wasn’t the giantess providing the very reason for his mental collapse. “If you get nervous, just remember that this is a first-time experience for Mommy, too… yes, we’ve come close before, and had fun from just about every possible angle already. This is our last frontier. And we’re in it together. Just keep that in mind, and think about Joanne, too. How she could never love you the same as me, and how much rougher she might see fit to be with you, if you just can’t learn to cooperate with the one Mommy you were born to. I’d hate to think I’m not enough for you, but if I’m not, I’m more than willing to do whatever is necessary to turn you around, including letting a second, bigger Mommy show you just how good you’ve got it here, with me. In me. Take a deep breath, now, and try not to squirm, at least until you’re safe inside. I have a feeling it’ll be hard for me to resist really going for it right now. Good as you are in front, I have a suspicion you’re going to be even more talented in back. Lord, I hope I can remember to stop.”

Kyle had that exact same feeling about his ravenous jiggle-bottomed kaiju of a parent and her lack of self-control, and numbly let himself be driven toward what could well become his execution chamber, either physically or emotionally, as Roberta backed up her dumpster the final few inches toward the wall. Cheeks pried apart to the point of pale-skinned deformation, her fingers trembled with the effort to get the widest possible spread for the goatse that was to be the last thing Kyle saw clearly before being repeatedly and turbulently rammed into the moist fragrant pitch-black grotto of her ass. Her puckered orifice uncoiled. Making use of the one function he still had control over for the upcoming torture, Kyle closed his eyes, rather than allowing his world to be darkened by the in-rushing anal walls, though it made little difference when Roberta indulged in a falsetto gasp of anticipation, then plunged herself in reverse.

Her cheeks smashed and momentarily bloated from the impact with the wall, sending more drywall flakes flying, and of course, shooting Kyle directly and deeply into her backdoor hole, raking the rancid liquid-humid textures along his every naked goo-crusted feature. In the blur of sweat-abrasion, lower-intestinal squishiness, and of course horrid aromas, the boy quickly found that even his first impressions of the demonically disgusting quarters here were not so bad that they couldn’t be worsened almost immediately.

Having her hole intentionally flared, and the inner tunnel swabbed from all angles in rapidfire patterns, Roberta could do little to hold back up the near-omnipresent supply of gas she kept stored in her chunky figure. Despite her desire for Kyle to have a good experience, the woman had reached a new nirvana of comfort with her body and its needs, not feeling the slightest shade of embarrassment when a hearty puff of warm plumbing-scented fart-smog exploded around her son.


###


Joanne let her head hang back, releasing an ungodly and guttural song of arousal while she bounced on the kitchen stool, sweat-swept strands of frizzy hair continually swaying around her face while a complex system of fat rolls and paunches from every boob, gut, and backside curve bobbled up and down in an amorphous dance along with the vile act. Her moaning was accompanied by the slopping of her vaginal tunnel reabsorbing its prize, then spitting it right back out on machine-like repeat, not to mention the wet clap of her thighs and cheeks splashing and smearing through the amassed pool of drizzled cum and booty saltwater each time she hit the kitchen stool again. Strings of spilt nectar hung like half-melted frosting off every side of the seat, some dangling all the way to the floor, while the pounding and continual flapping of her bushy crotch lips had also caused enough shedding to make a full coat for her three-inch son, let alone just a wig.

Naturally at the center of this hideous chaos were Big Ben as well as Joanne’s hapless child himself, glued back to his partner-in-crime, purely because his pleading screams for a break from his mom’s ass-crack had broken through to her just enough to offer him mercy in the form of a more vanilla fuck-fest instead. At first his cries to be let off the hook got on her nerves, given how indecisive it made the boy seem to want yet another break from this break, but Joanne found that the faster she humped the suctioned-down dildo and its squiggly passenger, the less often she heard his complaints, which gave her all the more reason to get going at a heart-palpitating pace.

This of course brought with it a greater volume of sweat and a hotter-blooded time overall, but Joanne was coming to appreciate the aerobic benefits of these more aggressive playtimes with her son. After a while, she stopped hearing his yelps even when she’d fully retracted Big Ben from her pussy in a spray of sweet-and-sour nether drool, which was a plus, though also a trade-off in that a semi-conscious Tommy did less squirming after such a vigorous cunt-pumping: a bit of a letdown, given how much his pathetic writhing contributed to Joanne’s sexual high, but she was willing to give him some leeway, since this was after all his rest time, and she wanted him strong once they resumed the main event. This, she concluded to herself as her second orgasm neared, was the key to true compromise, and she was certain that by the time she’d finished this round, Tommy would be more accommodating.

The kegel practice was coming in handy now, as Joanne’s pussy gripped her limp son and the ramrod sex toy as effectively as a fist, the tension of each clench practically cancelling out the squalid volume of moisture which otherwise made the activity easily as descending a waterslide. With her climax approaching, Joanne worked yet harder to keep up the swift pace, bobbing from the full depth of Ben’s shaft up to the tip where her son was positioned as quickly as she could manage without risking over-taxing her lungs and heart. They didn’t have long to go before she peaked, but even amidst the rush, she could feel Tommy’s body hanging totally flaccid, allowing himself to be bent whatever way his mom’s clamping privates dictated, which made her verge on fuming. Was it really so difficult to put in even the slightest effort, especially so close to the finish line?

“C’mon, baby, take it! Let’s feel ya, huh?” Joanne roared, making sure she was loud enough for her son to hear her over the slippery gush of fluids and nearly sound-proof walls of spiraling vaginal flesh. “Mommy’s puttin’ in all the work up here! I know you’re a little bit shorter than me, but I don’t think it’s asking too much for you to try even 1%, while I take care of the other 99%. I agreed to give ya a break, after all that carryin’ on you did earlier, so it’s just not gonna cut it for you to be napping on the job when we’re taking it slower. You’re gonna have to toughen up if you’re gonna handle everything you’ve got comin’ to ya in the future. Sure, you weren’t tough enough to take everything outside Mommy’s house in the big scary world, and that’s fine, but you can’t go soft on me, the one person on Earth who’ll have you. My ladyhood’s a temperamental thing, after all. She can be gentle some days, but other times, she just needs a chew toy, and the way you’re acting now, you’re not gonna last more than a couple of tug-of-wars.”

Through her half-muffled rambling, Joanne kept up the in-and-out blitz, and after a certain tingly threshold, just had to accept that Tommy wasn’t going to heed her request for even a little helpful worming. Disappointment aside, she was in an erotic plummet now, and nothing would stop her weighty undercarriage from suckling Big Ben and her shrunken son past eruption. Raising herself completely off the dildo, letting it wobble still, Joanne then proceeded to plop herself down with hardly any footwork to slow the descent. It was a sheer drop, rocketing her boy as high as she could fit him in vaginal hell until the faithful dildo’s scrotal anatomy sat flush to the woman’s widespread muff. Jittering her hips, slapping her dampened inner thighs together, and constricting her deep-seated pussy dweller from every angle, Joanne bear-grunted her way to a miserably sticky and elongated orgasm.

Tommy was folded so tightly against himself from the ever-narrower trench walls enveloping him, even as small and thin as he already was, he had lost almost all sensation as well as his perception of time. It felt like they’d been at this for half a day, Joanne hunched over a stool and repetitively sheathing him and Big Ben in her birthing slot, yet the second waterfall of maternal cum only marked the quarter-hour point of this supposed “break,” impossible though that timeline seemed. But if Tommy knew his mother, she was going to keep to a rigid schedule, given that she viewed this front-facing interlude as a personal favor to her son before they resumed the truly heinous torment.

After catching her breath, a period which left her son cramped just as taut and grimed in the upper limits of her cunt, Joanne began the shaky process of unplugging her two toys from their perfectly-fitted hovel. The more of the pole was extracted, the greater collection of honeyed liquids and hairs washed loose during the previous havoc were pumped like bilge water from her cave. Every gooey drop and every itchy puss-whisker that rolled over Tommy’s body during the extraction process pooled around the base, then flowed toward the already-flooded edges of the stool’s platform, until the whole surface was glommed with liquid and loose pubes, but shallower in the broad areas where the inner flanks of Joanne’s buttocks had bounced.

Abandoned by his mother on the stool, Tommy kept his eyes defensively shut, awaiting the inevitable storm of cum-flavored puking while listening to a chorus of sweaty ejaculate dollops dripping to the floor. Sure enough, he made sounds almost as sick as his mother’s overdramatic sexual groans once the flavorful gloop he’d swallowed started coming back up in droves through his puny system. He wondered while he hacked if there was a limit to the amount of his parent’s crotch runoff that could bathe his innards before it had a lethally venomous effect, and whether that would be such a bad thing for him. As it was, he couldn’t stop the quakes even after the last drop was upchucked, but that could’ve also been due to the naked flab-wrapped monolith of his mother towering disapprovingly above his damaged form.

In one hand, Joanne gripped a tall glass of ice water, which she slurped idly from in full sight of her son, who at this point would’ve probably literally killed for just a single swallow to wash away the filth in his throat. Her other hand held a washcloth which she scraped over her shining forehead, turning the towel dark with salty moisture in just a few swabs. Again Tommy watched this act longingly, knowing he would’ve performed unspeakable acts for the chance to cleanse his shivering cum-and-puke-decorated self, but knew the best he’d get was watching his mother enjoy these luxuries from afar. Taking another long drink, Joanne wiped her mouth and gave her hindquarters a sway as she studied the pitiful quitter glued to her dildo who’d replaced his unsightly vomiting with involuntary sobbing, the latter of which she found even more unattractive.

“Baby, sweetie, my darling sugar-plum…” Joanne cooed, squatting beside the stool so she was almost on eye-level with her three-inch prisoner. “…is it really not clear to you yet that you’re lookin’ at your boss? Yes, of course I’ll always be your mother, your caregiver, and your lover, but until we fully understand each other and what we mean to one another, first and foremost, I am in charge of you. ALL of you. It’s this simple: you’re the small one, and Mommy’s the big one. If I say jump, you ask how high? The faster you get that through that little skull of yours, and really it shouldn’t take so long given how TINY you are, the easier our lives will become. I do mean that. Mommy’s ready to make all kinds of compromises for ya, because that’s what a fulfilling relationship requires, but until you’re puttin’ in some effort yourself, you’re just the man at the bottom of the totem pole, and Mommy is the CEO of your whole life. And she happens to like havin’ totem poles inside her, almost as much as men at the bottom.”

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LIKE THIS?” Tommy screamed so loudly for his size that it actually succeeded in cutting Joanne off. In the torture chamber of his mind and the interior of his mom’s dank slobbery pussy, he’d had plenty of time to formulate his true loathsome feelings over and over such that he didn’t stutter over them now, speaking more articulately than he had since his shrinkage: “How can you do this to your own son? And you still think you can call yourself a real Mom? You’re nothing but a monster. A giant fat ugly goddamned MONSTER!”

For the first time in their relationship, Joanne showed a sign of trauma herself, bracing herself against the kitchen table and struggling to put together the words while her eyes grew wide as dinner plates. When she finally found her fury, though, it ejected from her lips with the same white-hot revulsion of her orgasms.

“God, I have HAD IT up to HERE with you!” Joanne bellowed, waving a hand above her head. “Cleanin’ up after you, doing all the housework, slaving for almost twenty years after your ungrateful little ass, then picking up the pieces when that wretched whore left ya shrunken and penniless, and finally surrounding you, literally, in pussy, the thing a pathetic whelp like you would have no other chance in this life of getting without some help from the one person who can endure your selfishness and abuse. Oy vey, and ya think the sex has been rough NOW? Oh, my muff’s barely gettin’ started with you, buster. We haven’t even hit the strong stuff. Not by a long shot. Maybe you’d like to see for yourself? I tell ya, after all that bitching from Roberta’s son, I thought I had the model boy, but it turns out you’re just as rotten on the inside as him. And you already know what Mommy does with boys like that… boys like you.”

With his puny rebellion launched, the little lad fell into silence again while the heat and shadow of his mom’s pudgy limbs and frothing hair-pie straddled the stool, then went for another straight-shot downward, stabbing herself upon the most pleasurable of sexual weaponry from the opposite direction now. With Tommy secured deep in her pussy’s bowels again, Joanne clasped her puffy thighs together, clenching her ass cheeks as well as every other part of her bulbous frame, until her crotch had her boy in an iron-strength body-lock. Only this time, the tight pulsation didn’t immediately give way to relaxation and another dispelling of fluids, but held its flexed pose. Joanne quivered from the most extreme effort she’d yet put into their dalliances, going tomato-red in the face and hammering her fists on her cellulite-billowing buttocks. She grunted through gritted teeth to not only keep this position, but grasp Tommy with the relentless strength she’d been kind enough to withhold until now.

Inside, the unfortunate talker felt like he’d entered an entirely different circle of hell. The quick and often-painful squeeze at the apex of each thrust became the sole sensation to be endured now, dispensing with the sliding and relatively cushioned massage of riding the slick walls. Her cunt was just balling him into a crumpled speck of humanity. Skin bruising, bones bending, Tommy wondered when his mother would decide her point was made and cease the compaction. Surely before part of him broke.

That hope was shattered, then, when he felt his torso being compressed inward until the sting of a rib fracture wracked him to hysteria and back. The space was so tight around him, there literally wasn’t room to spill tears or budge even a fraction of an inch in the kind of agonized squirming that would’ve previously delighted Joanne. Her kegels bulged without an ounce of the doughy give they usually showed, the swollen flesh stretched hard and unforgiving. She had him, and it was clear she wasn’t letting go until the seriousness of the “boss’s” attitude was driven irrevocably into her highly-fragile offspring, no matter if she had to snap a few bones in the process of embedding her erotic doctrine firmly in place.

Again bracing herself against the floor, Joanne began rising up from her squat. First her blubbery ass cheeks came unstuck from the cum-gluey platform, then the suction cup began to strain in protest, clinging to the stool while the giantess’s thick limbs warred against it. Joanne, the seat, and Big Ben especially all rigorously tremored, until the base of the dildo sounded the splat of its release from the damp surface, and the towering toy ripped free all at once. Joanne’s frame bounced back to full amazonian height. She staggered back, breathing deeply from the exertion, while the majority of her rubbery aide, and her son fastened at the tip, remained enclosed in her clamped-shut pussy.

When at last she’d caught her breath, luxuriously massaging her bosom and wiping away the numerous sweat rivulets making their way down her rounded shape from all sides, Joanne reached between her legs, took hold of Big Ben, and slowly began extracting the boys from the slightly-sweeter of her lower holes. Even while the woman now wished to free the prisoner from his painfully-learned sex-ed class, her vag resisted by clenching in pulses with each inch withdrawn from her ejaculate-dripping labia, almost as though Joanne’s subconscious wished for him to have just a little longer to cook in the claustrophobic pit.

The tip of the hair-and-honeyed scepter came loose with a moist pop much like Big Ben’s suction cup from the stool, fully liberating the pair. Joanne held her son up close to her face now, observing his weeping twitching pang-flushed form with an empathetic yet unrepentant disciplinarian’s stare, patiently waiting for his little screams to calm enough for her words to be heard.

“Oh, baby-cakes… Mommy’s sorry. Yes, she’s very sorry that it came to this,” Joanne cooed with none of her previous flaming ire. “It would’ve been so much better for everyone if ya just understood the way of things on your own, but you couldn’t, so Mommy had to come up with a more direct way of gettin’ your attention. Much as this hurts now, just know it hurts Mommy even more. I don’t like seein’ my little boy cry, especially not when I prefer you happy and wiggly as a clam, but we both have to make compromises sometimes. Do you accept Mommy’s apology, baby?”

Tommy’s breaths were jagged and short, as every drawn inhale, despite no longer being clogged with cum, was agony on his midsection. Too beaten down to answer either yes or no, he continued trying to quell his sobbing, if only because it might remove a fraction of the heaving pain in his ribs.

“Good. Thank you, sweetie-pie,” Joanne drawled, choosing to hear a yes. Her hand stroked up Ben’s shaft, fondling the pad of her thumb up from Tommy’s legs up toward his head. When she passed his abdomen, he wrenched and squeaked in increased pain, despite it being as gentle a touch as the woman was capable of inflicting.

“I never wanted to have to be this hard on ya, darlin’. I really didn’t,” Joanne insisted, ignoring her boy’s wincing at her supposed-soothing contact. “But sometimes we gotta do things that temporarily hurt the ones we love so they’ll be better for it in the long run. And you really did have to learn, now, after all the chances you’ve had to adapt. This is what you’re for, baby. Don’t you see? You were built in Mommy, for Mommy. So think of this being a fresh start, now that you’ve got a better idea of what the alternatives to cooperatin’ with me are. Because it can still get rougher than this. And ya know, I wouldn’t have thought before that it would feel good for me, either, going pedal-to-the-metal the whole way, but now that I’ve had a sample of it, gotta tell ya… maybe there’s something to be said for you keeping a little fight in you, baby. I can’t lie, taking you against your will, however I have to, well… it’s stirrin’ some things up in me. And I have you to thank for that, little Tommy. We’re both learnin’ all sorts of things today, aren’t we?”

“OKAY! Okay!” he panted with duress. The tears still flowed like shrunken faucets and huffing separated his words, but desperation kept the boy’s diction clear: “I’ll… do whatever you… want. Anything. Just… not so… hard. PLEASE. Not… so hard? I don’t… think… I can… take… one… more… time like… that.”

“Well, now, see how smoothly this goes when we’re on the same page? Because we’re definitely in agreement there. I have no desire for my one and only favorite boy toy on Earth to break, I promise,” Joanne said, regarding her son more softly now as she tittered from deep in her throat. Her fingertips ventured up to his face, petting his tiny features and massaging her oily vaginal juices deeper into his cum-pruned skin. “Don’t ya forget that now, baby. Mommy’s only got your best intentions in mind, though I also gotta admit… what we’re about to do, well, it’s more for Mommy than you. But that’s what generous lovers do for each other.”

Lowering Big Ben away from her frumpy grin, down past the saggy jello-like tits and husky gut, she used the suction cup to sweep away where the hair-flecked gloop had pooled in the center of the stool, then with a clear runway, stabbed the base back down. The dildo swayed, dizzying Tommy again, but not so much that the sickening terror couldn’t clarify his vision enough to see the cellulite-rich storm cloud gathering overhead.

Again Joanne swiveled herself around, backing the tremendous twin sacs of her sweaty buttocks above him, until once again her son was shrouded under a stale muggy sky of flabby undercarriage flesh. Her obese legs straddled the stool, cinching inward until the rounded edges of the seat depressed her inner thighs like bread dough. Once again the tip of the Tommy-mounted dildo was aimed for her shaggy bush and the hungry lips at the center. Of course this had become a familiar and heinous sight to the little man, given how much of the past week he’d spent plastered against her sloppy beast of a cunt, but now that he had the stabbing pain in his side, still shortening his breath and threatening a blackout if anything more strenuous was done to his body, he looked upon her nethers with renewed respect and more fear than he’d previously thought humanly possible.

“Now before you go getting too much performance anxiety, pookums…” Joanne thunderously guffawed. Her thighs swelled inward just enough to encourage her labia to spread goo from lip to lip like an unblown soap bubble, then plop the excess onto her son’s face. “…Mommy’s not expectin’ perfection here today. Why, we’ve hardly begun, after all! Nobody could reach their full potential as a sex toy so soon into a relationship, even someone like you who’s so well suited to the job. So just try to relax. This is where Mommy comes in. Well, I suppose you’ll be cummin’ in a little too, but what I mean is, I’m in the driver’s seat now. Like I always will be, and like I should’ve been from the start. To tell ya the truth, I’m sure I’ll always have a little guilt for ever letting you out of the house with that no-good homewrecker to begin with, but that’s my burden to bear, sweetie, and what’s important is that everything is back in order now. My pussy may have quite the appetite, and a hankering for playing rough, but you’ll warm up to her soon enough. Just like ya made friends with Big Ben, you’ll be the favorite chew toy down there faster than you can get a stiffy. And the only thing standing between you, baby, and top dog status in there is some good, hard fucking to break the ice. Yes, that’s all. Wouldn’t it be nice if all life’s problems could be solved that way? Lately I’ve started to think that’s actually the case, ya know? Because it sure has solved a lot of problems between us! In fact, it’s exactly the lubricant our relationship always needed.”

Tommy may as well have been watching his mother’s puffy crotch approaching through a theater screen projecting an NC-17 monster movie, for all the control he had left over the situation or his own body. The shakes, generated by extremity twitches and stuttered breathing, were so teeth-chatteringly brutal now that it would’ve felt like a soothing rest just to slow the palpitations by a few beats-per-minute and clarify his terror-blurred vision enough to see the extended valley of Joanne’s underside glistening with sweat and cum, the irregular hairs circling her asshole gradually thickening and giving way to a creamy haphazard forest at the front. But of course, getting a better look at the horror-movie creature preparing to swallow him up yet again would only force his tiny body back into a shutdown, spinning another vicious cycle of panic and nausea, until the hairy being stopped merely drooling upon its meal and lurched down to take a fateful bite.

With the anticipation almost-literally killing him, if not simply inducing a heart attack, some small part of the boy even found relief to see Joanne jutting her dank womanhood down the final few inches to consume him. The tension was about to break, much like his rib, and while he was potentially seconds away from having the rest of his bones turned to dust in the churning blender of her slovenly pussy, Tommy was actually eager to be temporarily blinded by the darkness of his mom’s cunt, so at least one of his senses would be spared from directly enduring the raunchy abyss. At this stage, even more permanent blindness didn’t seem so bad, and probably wasn’t unlikely either, given the volume of motherly ejaculate he had soaking into his burning eyes by the end of a typical full-body fuck with Joanne.

“Hope you’ve got another one in ya left today, baby. You owe me that much, at least, with how patient I’ve been, taking time out of our fun to set you straight,” Joanne said, half-grunting from the strain of holding her squat position without flopping and cannonballing ass-first straight onto Big Ben. Rather than reinserting him right away, though, it seemed she was descending just slowly enough to feel the first glop-weighted muff hairs tickling along the face of a certain three-inch-tall dildo rider. Her giggling confirmed this, as did her quivering fingers grasping the slippery edge of the stool for balance.

When the dark curls, shining and nearly submerged in crystal fluid like blades of grass bending in a rainstorm, made gooey contact with the boy’s head, brushing back and forth over his head carwash-style, they began to cling, momentarily straightening as though magnetized to Tommy’s fragile form, and dispensing their gummy discharge down the scratchy tract of each individual hair. In this way, through the gentlest foreplay the chubby-bottomed giantess could manage, the lad found himself sweating his mother’s dots of cum as the tendrils of each pube reached for him, trailing in thick droplets down every angle of his shrunken nudity in quantities that, in mere seconds, would feel like little more than misting before a tornado.

Amidst the lustful aromas, the sticky heat, and the existential disgust, Tommy set his current complement of panic attacks aside to find that, strangely, almost like a trauma victim wandering blearily around in the wake of losing a limb, his greatest concern suddenly became the feeling of those traveling dribbles. With the texture and consistency of molasses, only in the cloudy-pearl hue of his mom’s vaginal drainage, the liquid blobs created gnawing itches in stripes down his body worse than any of the other irritating textures he’d experienced at the mercy of his parent’s crotch these past days. Worst of all, the boy was bound too tightly by glue, and too mentally unhinged anyway, to scratch the prickling massage of those cum-blobs working his way down his scrawny frame like liquid fingers. On the brink of screeching himself into unconsciousness if that need wasn’t satisfied soon, Tommy found the hungry cunt still licking its hairy chops above him was only too happy to oblige in solving this problem.

Joanne dropped by another two inches over the stool, causing her cheeks to heave and her thighs to clap, not much distance in the scheme of things, but enough to scoop everything above her son’s knees inside the horny tunnel. Then, with little more than a shimmy, she settled the rest of the shaft, and her spelunking son, deep into her constricting nethers, though she made a point of throwing her hips about with more gusto than was required, practically enough to be a one-woman can-can dance line. The legs of the stool wobbled then tilted fully off the ground while the team of Big Ben and Tommy acted like a suctioned-down joystick for Joanne to steer the vessel, just as she’d promised she would. Fresh globs of fragrant spilled over the sides. The dildo was violently rocked again, but held firm to the base. With the complex of her crotch muscles fully engaged again, Joanne commenced a gymnastic display of clenching and flaring her vulva like the gullet of a serpent as she revved up the engine for another round of euphoria.

Immediately the pangs of his rib, snapped easier than a chicken wishbone, flooded the boy with every ounce of agony he’d earned himself by daring to defy his owner. Puny lips cranked open to scream into the bowels of the squishy cavern. Unfortunately, a dollop of cum swung from a pendulum of its own ropy goo, then shook loose and landed perfectly in Tommy’s mouth right as Joanne’s kegels squeezed her son’s lungs shut again.

“Brace yourself, baby!” Joanne commanded in a husky yet godlike timbre. “I just might have to crank things up a little now to make up for lost time. Break time for Tommy is over, but MOMMY time is just getting started. Don’t fret, though. Like everything I’ve done for ya, it’s only for your own good.”

“Well, Kyle, it’s clear from everything we’ve heard and seen that you and your mother have made tremendous strides this week,” the therapist declared, gazing pleasantly at the six-inch boy across the circle with a smile that almost belied the sinister atmosphere of smirking ladies and sullen mini-slave boys around them. “But of course, we’d like to hear from you, as well. True solutions in relationships can only come when both parties are working in tandem, and while you often choose not to participate with commentary during these sessions, which is fine up to a point, we’d all love to support you in sharing your feelings. So, tell us, please, dear. Are you still afraid of loving your mother the way she deserves?”

With all eyes in the room upon him, some admiring his size and some challenging him to answer wrong, Kyle squirmed in his mother’s lap while flanked on either side by her hands, both palms ready to whisk him off to an appropriate time-out location if his response wasn’t acceptable. Just to rub salt in the wound, too, her fingers still reeked of lube and lower orifices from their pre-gaming activities this morning, giving the boy a heady incense to breathe while pondering what to say.

Despite the therapist’s clinical tone and neutral expression, Kyle had been through enough trials by now to recognize when yet another size-hording figurehead was teasing him with the futility of resisting his gigantic superiors. Depressingly enough, he’d have happily jumped into the therapist’s clutches and let her use him as a portable dildo and butt plug instead, if only because he found her much more attractive than the homely oafish four-eyed rapist he called “Mom,” and at this stage in the utter degradation of his soul, even the prospect of becoming someone else’s lifelong sex toy was a wonderful fantasy. But also just that: a fantasy. Because it was obvious now that there would be no easier escape from this therapeutically-approved “romance” any more than there was a chance of clambering out of his mother’s aromatic holes a single minute sooner than she wished him to.

He knew he wasn’t being asked a question now; he was being given a choice.

“Not anymore,” Kyle said, putting on the best performance of his life for the sake of saving it. He spoke calmly and slowly, ensuring no words of his ultimate lie were stammered. “I took a long time to figure it out, but I was being selfish before. I was still having trouble getting used to all the new changes then, and I took it out on Mom, even though she was the one trying to help me all along, which wasn’t right. But because she’s such a good Mom, she was patient with me during all the crap I put her through. I really have learned to appreciate her the way I should, and I’m not afraid at all to keep on doing that, because she… does deserve it. She helped me realize all that with some… extra practice… that showed me just how good of a thing we have together, exactly the way it is now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle spotted Joanne in the neighboring seat watching him even more intently than the therapist. With the jiggly domed hills of her ass cheeks crammed more-or-less into an immodest skirt, she adjusted her posture every now and again with a happy twitch as though getting settled on a beanbag chair, except of course with her own swollen thighs and ample keister as all the cushion she could ever need.

“I think the group will agree that’s the kind of progress you simply can’t discount,” the therapist practically swooned. Raising her arms, she gazed around the room with genuine pride. “Everyone, doesn’t that call for a round of applause? Let’s hear it for Roberta and Kyle!”

Understandably, only the man-possessing wardens in the room clapped, but they created enough noise to make up for the lack of enthusiasm from all the glum shrunken males imprisoned in their laps and between their tits. Roberta herself might’ve clapped the loudest, leaving a ringing in her son’s ears nearly as potent as the scent of her frizzy-haired sex still smothered thick on her fingers and especially his body.

“Now, I believe that makes it Joanne and Tommy’s turn,” the therapist said, angling toward the elephantine matriarch. She smiled, recognizing the woman’s finger-sized son was nowhere in sight. “Though it appears the better half will be representing the both of them. How are things going in your house, Joanne?”

“Oh, things have never been better!” she blurted, releasing her enthusiasm in one gust, though it was obvious to everyone listening that Joanne wasn’t just moaning with satisfaction over the therapy’s effectiveness. Playing pat-a-cake with her deflated thigh flab, the woman came dangerously close to inching her thumbs under the summery cut of her skirt in pursuit of her crotch, dragging the fabric up just high enough that Kyle and the other shrunken inmates, from their lowlier vantages, could see her damp cameltoe testing the strength of her panties. “Last week, I gotta admit I had my doubts about our progress, but since then, my little sugar-lump has done a complete one-eighty. He’s been learnin’ so much in such a short period of time, and I really have to owe it all to the advice we got in here, especially from you, Roberta, darlin’. Yes, with some helpful tips, and LOTS of practice, we’re well on our way - ooohhh, baby - to real domestic bliss.”

At this shameless eruption of cooing mid-sentence, along with the accompanying hip-wiggles and fidgeting fingers that showed Joanne was doing everything in her power to keep from masturbating through her panties right in front of them, her private audience chuckled approvingly, with all eyes falling to the nebulous array of bulges making up her husky lower quarters. Now that the speaker was slowly gyrating in her chair, it was tough to guess what twitches were owed to Joanne’s libidinous squirming and which might’ve been a sign of life from her son buried somewhere in the sweaty middle-aged mush of lard and muff.

“That does certainly seem to be the case, by the look and sound of it,” the therapist added. “Maybe that’s Tommy’s way of saying he’d like a turn to speak, too?”
“Sorry if we’re makin’ a fuss over here,” Joanne said, wiping her forehead of perspiration and fanning her reddening cheeks. “The last thing I want to be is the center of attention.”

It took everything in Kyle’s power not to laugh out loud.

“Now, now. There’s no room from apologies in this room, at least not from our devoted caretakers of society’s little outsiders,” the therapist said. She raised an eyebrow, nibbling the end of her pen. “As a reminder to everyone, it’s perfectly all right to express yourself, with your words and whatever other methods help you. This is a safe place, we’re here to learn from one another just as much as share our feelings.”

“I think she’s giving you the aye-okay to give us a sample of the action, Joanney,” Olga said, licking her lips. “We just wanna see the little fella and hear how much he’s loving life!”

“Yes, we could ALL use some new ideas,” Betsy insisted. “Believe me, we’ve seen it all, before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, I… I wouldn’t want to impose, or put any of ya in a TMI-situation,” Joanne said, still blushing and perspiring, but now with barely-restrained giddiness. Still she appeared to be having fun milking the scenario, and did her best to cross one dense leg over the other, which in turn inspired more eroticized exhales and cellulite-shuddering fidgets that verged on humping thin air. “Plus, Tommy has become kind of a private lover in these last few weeks.”

“That’s how you can tell he’s becoming a man, not just a boy. He wants that intimacy with his mama all to himself,” Roberta sagely intoned. Her fingertip twirled over her own child’s crotch, now in-tune with Joanne’s attitude. “But for what it’s worth, Joanne, taking that last step to be open not only with one another, but with the whole world, well… that’s when you really know you’ve got something special with him, forever and always.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the therapist concurred. She winked at Kyle’s mother. “Maybe you’ve got a future in leading these groups yourself, Roberta.”

“Ya got that one right. She’s a natural. And speakin’ of which, you’ve all talked me into it. I’m sure I can entice my boy into sayin’ a few words,” Joanne laughed. Again she made a show of flaring out her skirt to stand, grunting on the rise and adjusting her cleavage to look her best in the unofficial spotlight, but just as quickly she hooked her thumb in the waistband of her elastic underwear and yanked it down her thighs, first one hock then the other, until the paltry garment was dragged low enough to plop in a damp crumpled pile around her ankles.

At first Kyle jolted, expecting to see Tommy’s three-inch-body writhing in paralysis while still laced into the panty crotch between his mother’s feet after the fall, given that was where he last saw his tortured counterpart stowed, but the boy was nowhere to be seen, at least at first, until a tiny face emerged through a gelatinous puddle of cloudy cum and wiry hairs. After kicking her underthings off the end of both pudgy feet, Joanne squatted with a modest effort and retrieved her son, letting him remain affixed to the cloth crotch while she pinched the safely un-soaked waistband.

Kyle bit his tongue to avoid retching aloud, witnessing the panties and Tommy along with them ascending past the drumstick-like pillars of Joanne’s legs, all the way above her hair-matted pink-and-pale monument of a pussy, now exposed in all its puffy cum-glazed glory for the group to appreciate. Her labia wobbled at this separation from its favorite snack, bristling her pubes and flicking a globule of fluid to the floor below. After his last bout with the cavern and little more than elastic bands, vaginal lips, and a gooey forest to keep him suspended, Tommy was still coughing and wriggling as though his chest was being pumped with a defibrillator.

Once the woman had carried her boy up to eye-level, turning him over for examination and only smiling wider at each observation she made of her obedient toy in his tailor-made suit of mom-gunk and squiggle-line pubes, she brandished him by stretching the underwear out wide for the group to witness. A chorus of gasps rang out from all parties, though more of admiration from the ladies and barely-contained dread from the men.

The boy was still just as tiny and naked as the last time everyone had seen him, but there was something different too that could be perceived even from across the room. Tommy only moved to hiccup another splurge of swallowed nectar, just letting himself hang limp from the bands, and for Kyle, who had the closest view of the guy, it was clear there was hardly any light left in those beady eyes. His brain stayed switched on and his lungs still pumped air in between swallows of ejaculate, but for all intents and purposes, the monster of Joanne’s snatch had suckled the life right out of him.

“Well, Tommy-sweetie? Mommy promised everybody a show, so we gotta deliver,” Joanne proudly commanded. “You don’t have to leave your happy little house, since I want you to be comfortable, but make sure you speak up, so they can all hear, and tell them just how good ya got it now!”

Then followed thirty seconds of grim silence, during which everyone patiently leaned forward on the edges of their seats for just a peep from a boy who looked too weary and shame-splattered to even fully open his eyes, let alone pronounce his love for this lifestyle. Having personally known that feeling so many times, though perhaps not quite to the extreme Tommy was now experiencing, Kyle hoped for the boy’s sake that Joanne would get sick of waiting and just stretch her panties back over her crotch. It was too painful to look at him. Unsurprisingly, though, the woman wasn’t satisfied with his lack of enthusiasm. Frowning, she gave the group a polite smile and mouthed “one second,” then strolled several paces away just behind the chair, chanting in a low snarl of a whisper that only Kyle, from this proximity and with his sensitive shrunken ears, could pick up aside from Tommy.

“Listen here, ya little runt…” Joanne uttered under her breath. With her back to the group, the woman’s already-frumpy smile transformed into a pinched mask of end-of-the-rope frustration over the tiny resident of her panties. “We talked about this. I even wrote out everything you had to say, so you wouldn’t have to think, just make noises. I told you what would happen if you couldn’t deliver here, didn’t I? You know Mommy can make things so much worse for you, doin’ things that don’t even come with the fun of lettin’ you get a hard-on. So not a single peep to them about the little boo-boo that you forced Mommy to give you by being so uncooperative, got it? Don’t test me, sugar-pot, you think you’ve got it bad now? I was just reading last week about a woman who deals with her no-good cheat of a husband by letting him clean her up after every deposit in the ladies’ room. Yes, that’s right, he’s her toilet paper. You’re a little on the small side for that kind of job by yourself, but if I just put some extra squares behind ya as padding, boom, we’re in business. I bet you could absorb a lot more than I give you credit for. Just think of the savings, not to mention all the good it would do for the environment. See, I’m already half-convinced it’s not a bad idea. What do ya think about that?”

Pausing to catch her breath, which had become shorter in the heat of her spittle-flying aggression, Joanne cinched her fingers around her boy like an iron lung, tightly enough that she finally got a response from Tommy in the form of a mewl and a spasm. She wiped away a layer of excess goo, which at least provided him with more breathing room, but did little to improve his dead-eyed micro-countenance.

“Listen good now, and mark… my… words,” she growled even more quietly, every husky word weighty with hard truth. “I could be doin’ things to you that would have you begging on your itty-bitty hands and knees for me to let you go back in my pussy. Oy, just think, after you’d scraped every bit of filth out of my big ol’ ass, front to back, deep as you’ll go, you’d actually be hopin’ for some pussy time just to wash everything off. I suppose that’s the kind of scenario ya wanna be in, huh, because that’s the signal you’re giving off now with this pouty quiet-game act. Go on, baby. Call Mommy’s bluff. Let’s see what happens.”

Kyle had no way of stopping himself from emitting something like a low-decibel scream amidst the tremors brought on by listening to this one-sided exchange. This went beyond fear and disgust, though of course he felt those at some level during every waking moment; this was just foul in a way he couldn’t fully emote. Joanne spoke with enough bubbling rage that Kyle himself felt he was being threatened just by existing near her, which reminded the lad to pray to the uncaring higher powers that his own mother hadn’t managed to hear too much of this speech, lest it give her ideas to add to the arsenal of anal child-breaking consequences.

Though Tommy’s voice would’ve been too quiet to be understood from such distance anyway, the ugly smile returning to Joanne’s face told Kyle she was satisfied in her threat, without even hearing a response from her child. She swirled back around to face the rest of the group, once again show-boating her humiliated son by extending the elastic of her panties like a flag. Much of the surplus fluid had been mopped up so Tommy at least didn’t have to talk through the gloppy film or risk getting a pube caught in his lips like a drinking straw, but this was a mercy too small to really matter. Though he kept his head hung low at first, so weak it was a challenge just to look directly at his hopeful audience, the motivation to avoid raking excretion out of his mom’s crack was enough to get Tommy stirring. And then he spoke as loudly as he could without vomiting or passing out from exhaustion.

“Better than ever! Better than ever!” he screeched like a trained parakeet. Every other word made Tommy’s marble-sized head lurch. “I… love what we have! I love Mom! I love all the stuff we learned! I’m so lucky she… saved me from whatever I would be without her! Thanks, everybody. Thanks, Ms. Lawrence and Kyle. And thanks, Mom, most of all! I was nothing before… nothing without Mom. I didn’t have any money or anybody to take care of me, and she still took me in, so… I learned a lot from that. I… know I can be a real… man now. A real man for my Mom. I’m… learning how to… take care of her, in all the ways she deserves to be taken care of, just like she takes care of me, and will forever. I learned to be grateful for everything she’s done, and everything she’s going to do… with me. Until… death do us part.”

Kyle flinched. He himself had been thoroughly reconditioned by Roberta, but next to Tommy and his clearly-loose screws, the six-inch boy looked far saner. Almost eerily normal. The smaller lad hung from the stretched-out banner of Joanne’s used panties, prostrated with his legs spread in four directions as though for horse-drawn quartering. His pathetic image made for a macabre display for all, even Kyle, gleaming as Tommy was with briny sweat and molten cum, adorned with dark spiral pubes attached like life support tubes, yet he seemed not to notice the horror of his own visage or anything else around him. The boy was simply parroting a script he was forced to memorize, and soaking up every blessed moment not spent directly smothered in the sloppy jowls of his mother’s crotch.

“Why, I couldn’t have said it better myself!” Joanne said, and shared a chuckle with all the women in the room. Though no one would admit it aloud, Kyle would’ve bet his life that each and every one of them, his mother included, knew that Tommy hadn’t devised a single word of this tribute himself. “We really are becomin’ a happy little family, just the two of us. Or at least one of us is representing the “little,” but I guarantee ya we’re both happier than we’ve ever been. Now, that said, don’t any of you go thinkin’ I’m a pushover just because my baby and I are involved in a promiscuous fashion. I’m still every bit his lover and his mama, so I still run a very tight ship. He may be dependent on me, but he’s still a grown man… well, grown as he’ll ever be… and he has to pay his dues, just like everybody else in this life. No such thing as a free lunch. Fortunately for my Tommy-pumpkin, rent doesn’t cost him a red cent. Just all the love in the world, and not a penny more. Hey, how else is he gonna contribute?”

Joanne ceased testing the elastic of her soused undergarments and by extension her strung-out son, and folded the waistband back together, until she’d draped the sticky folds across her knuckles like a sock puppet with Tommy in the center. She brought him to her face, wiping away the most egregious layer of cunt-filth and immediately replaced it with kissy slobber from her clenched lips, first laying a smooch over his face then his midsection, such that his defeated micro-cock remained stuck to his mom’s wrinkly lower lip until she’d fully withdrawn.

“Speaking of which, baby, I do believe it’s about time to collect, don’t you? Yes, I think so. Let’s give these folks a show, why don’t we?” Joanne purred to him in another barely-audible vow. She delicately unlooped her offspring’s arms and legs from the gooey binds, dangling the helpless thing off the cum-weighted central patch of her underwear. In doing so, she gifted the boy with several precious seconds of liberty from his panty-prison or the far worse habitat which had become his permanent lodging, but the arousal had clearly grown too much for Joanne to wait longer than a few shuddering heartbeats before driving him skull-first for the dripping blossom of her humongous labia. A sea of hairs parted, and the three-incher was swabbed in a pinwheeling pattern around the inner flanks of Joanne’s pussy, just deep enough that most of his body vanished behind the veil of muff and vaginal drool, but not so far that the woman’s chubby fingertips lost hold of him to the slippery embrace.

Joanne’s body language reacted almost as violently as the shrunken sex-boy clutched in her mitts, with her knees threatening to buckle and her over-plumped curves thrusting from the effort not to collapse in pleasure. Her lips parted wide, showing off her pearly whites and a glimpse of uvula, only releasing a grumbly moan almost too low to be human.

After giving the lad a solid swish around the rim and pushing so deep she could only keep ahold of him by pinching one flailing ankle, the giantess dragged her soiled son back out into the open. Immediately he began coughing up several servings of milky ejaculate, which was helped by Joanne keeping her victim hung to dry upside-down, with dollops plunking down his naked form and off his weeping lips. The dewy plain of her underwear soon scooped below Tommy’s prone shape, however, allowing her to release him into the spongy folds like a knapsack, but just as quickly had the boy lashed into the bands once again and ready for action.

As had become tradition, the room watched in polite and enraptured silence, with all ladies present tilted to the edge of their seats, while their shrunken charges each wallowed in the ugly gratuity, looking back and forth between one another’s bug-eyed terror, as if to confirm they were all seeing the same revolting display. Kyle eventually kept his sight trained only on Joanne’s obese thighs and the sexual crimes happening between them, still nauseated to his core and no less afraid for Tommy, but he found it was even more anxiety-inducing to have to merely listen to the sloshing from Joanne’s pussy accompanied by moaning commentary if he closed his eyes, in the same way he’d have felt better to keep watch on a rabid carnivore in case it came for him next.

Joanne grunted from deep in her gut, joints popping and backside paunch clapping as she hunched to dip her panties to the floor. With her son back in his cummy front-row seat in the velvety crotch, now aimed directly for her distant muff above like a reverse Tower of Terror, the woman began dragging her underwear up her thick limbs one halting inch at a time. Per usual, the ascent became rougher where her leg fat widened to blubbery proportions near the top, distending the panties almost beyond recognition as the supposedly-seductive garment they were, and putting just a little extra strain on the threads keeping Tommy nice and fuckable in spread-eagle position: not by much, but enough to make him whimper even before melding with his owner’s privates again.

Still, Joanne wouldn’t be deterred, and gave the lip of the waistband an extra tug from either side, then let it snap like the crack of a bullwhip back to her juicy hips. Even without having to push him inside, the woman already had her tenant cuddled to her nethers thanks to the pressure of the cloth. The maw of her pussy massaged its fleshy flaps across Tommy in contemplation of gobbling him up while Joanne shimmied her buttocks to and fro, letting the string of her underwear settle comfortably back into place.

Fully clothed again, or at least as close as could be while Joanne was still hiking up her skirts so the group could spectate the tiny lump getting stickily gnashed in her panties, she flopped back in her seat at last. A final jiggly grind against the chair completed the exercise, topped off by a murmur of contentment from Joanne that the other women present, either consciously or not, soon harmonized upon as a reverent chorus. Her point had been well and truly made. At the conclusion of this communal sigh, the other guardians required a moment of recuperation themselves, placing hands over hearts and fanning blushing cheeks, while their own men sat just as riveted by ghastly predictions of the future punishments to come from their own gigantic tormentors now that Joanne had provided such fresh inspiration. Then, once the initial shock wore off for the audience, a flurry of bubbly compliments seemed to ring out at once:

“YES, queen!” Betsy sassily cheered.

“Now that’s how you handle a troublemaker and turn him into something useful,” Olga said with a nod.

“Marvelous, dear. Just sensational technique. Oh, you make us all want to be better,” Roberta dreamily swooned, which filled her son with reborn alarm.

“Thank you for your candor, Joanne and Tommy,” the therapist said. “It really is fantastic to see that the more time we spend together, and the stronger this group becomes as a unit, the more participation we have from everyone. Not just our brave and forthcoming ladies who make so many sacrifices to provide for their little ones, but you boys trying to improve yourselves and make up for past mistakes as well. And that openness can only mean good things for all your futures.”

Clearly touched by this, the women of the group again cooed and golf-clapped, while their toy boys only languished further in the gloaming of eroticized wrath to come. This hailstorm of jubilant self-congratulations continued for the rest of the session and even beyond, as the ladies departed the circle together but kept right on sharing all the way down the hall, ecstatically complimenting progress and swapping “corrective” methods like beloved family recipes.

Inserted down to his neck in the cloying sandwich of sweaty freckled flab that made up his mom’s numbing cleavage, Kyle braced himself with what little bodily control he still had, as an even-rounder and larger-than-life giantess’s own saggy rack loomed near. Joanne of course wasn’t looking at the vulnerable boy smushed deep in Roberta’s tits, but only her kindred spirit, rush in together for a hug.

Bowing his head and shutting his eyes, as he might’ve in preparation for a tornado drill, the six-inch boy just had to hope the inevitable impact of four colossal boobs, with him pinched more-or-less at the puttied center of all that pale maternal excess, wasn’t too much like a car crash. Each tit was like an airbag unto itself, of course, but beneath their squishy exterior, Roberta’s cans were dense as boulders, and Kyle had to assume Joanne’s more bountiful bosom was even worse, which meant his chances of getting a broken neck from this loving exchange of friendship from two plus-sized amazons was about 50-50.

The initial crash between a quartet of mountainous jugs when Roberta and Joanne embraced was every bit as jarring as Kyle anticipated, which kept him from biting off the tip of his tongue, but he hadn’t counted on the vigor of the gesture, nor the length of time it was to last. This wasn’t a hug between mere congenial acquaintances, despite how few therapeutic hours the middle-aged wardens had spent together, but rather a tightly-bound, steadily-rocking squeeze shared by lifelong friends, if not sisters. As the two pear-shaped giants leaned heavily into one another’s affectionate momentum, Kyle didn’t just have to contend with the heightening of pressure from his own mother’s boobs swelling inward due to squashing push-back from Joanne’s; it was as if the pair was making an active effort to caress the half-foot-tall boy trapped at their center, with the larger mother’s melons raking past Kyle’s exposed head over several agonizing seconds. And since Joanne had a height advantage over Roberta, the erect summit of her boobs easily reached the boy decorating the upper shelf of his parent’s chest, her razor-hard teats pressing through the fabric against his face to illustrate just how much she was enjoying the rider in her drawers, as if her occasional lilting moans weren’t already enough.

“Oh, Roberta darlin’, how could we ever thank you enough for all you’ve taught us so far?” Joanne sighed, still maintaining their snuggly bear-hug. “I’ll tell ya, I definitely wasn’t expecting to find someone so wonderfully like-minded in our very first group session in this place, let alone one who could show us all the good times we were missin’ out on. I’d swear we were best friends in another life… not that we couldn’t be in this one, too!”

“I simply couldn’t agree more,” Roberta said. “Seriously, dear, Kyle and I even tried one other group before this one, back when my baby was still getting situated with the state of our new relationship, and they… got the job done, I suppose, but compared to this group, and the kind of progress we’ve made so quickly, especially with you and little Tommy there for support? Good lord, it’s night and day. Plus, there’s something to be said for seeing in action just what a… fascinating difference three inches can make in a good partnership.”

The empty room they’d claimed was just as creepily grave-quiet as the last time, but Kyle no longer had any greater fear of the closed-door solitude here than he did with witnesses present to see him and Tommy possibly about to be crammed into sopping orifices. In the meanwhile, he just tried to be grateful that the ladies had to pull away from each other to have a normal conversation, which meant he was only under a compressing assault by two breasts instead of four, but judging by Roberta and Joanne’s happy-go-lucky moods, Kyle could sense something ominous on the horizon.

“Occasionally I wouldn’t mind him bein’ a little bigger, ya know, but on the whole, I think I really hit the jackpot, getting my boy this size for life,” Joanne graciously agreed. “He’s a cutie-pie, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is at that,” Roberta said with a nod. Slyly, then, she added in a hush: “And I’m sure there are plenty of ideal purposes for a boy that small which my Kyle simply can’t perform with the same detail. I hope that’s not too bold to say.”

“Not at all!” Joanne chuckled, again wrapping an arm over Roberta’s shoulder in camaraderie. “Why, I’d have to imagine you’d gone blind if such a thing hadn’t occurred to ya, darlin’, especially after the little example we gave today. Like you said, sharing our love with everyone else is healthy, and it only strengthens what’s between us. I feel no shame in that, and neither does my Tommy.”

“Oh, good!”

“To tell ya the whole truth, I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t given similar thought to your tasty little number. It goes without saying that if a three-inch lover can get into places a six-incher can’t, the same must be true the other way, if not more so,” Joanne admitted. As she spoke, she slimed her tongue across her lip in thirsty contemplation while casting her gaze down from Roberta’s eyes to the conveniently-located shrinky perched in the gulch of his parent’s hooters. Then, showing even less good-mannered hesitation than Roberta, she gushed: “And he’s just about the size of a decent dick, too, isn’t he? Not exactly the fill-ya-up kind, but more than enough to feel where it matters, that much I can tell.”

If he wasn’t already naked, Kyle would’ve felt that Joanne was undressing him with her eyes, if not stripping him to the bone. A new breed of shiver shot through his vertebrae while even attempting to picture himself undergoing the same treatment as Tommy in this bigger, fatter, and more audacious giantess’s nethers. Frightfully, Joanne almost made his own dominating monster of a mother look average by comparison.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, dear?” Roberta asked, her eyes widening and smile broadening to a Cheshire grin.

“Oh, I don’t know, darlin’, what are you thinkin’?” Joanne replied. They huddled together like schoolgirls hatching conspiracies in whisper.

“What do you say to spending some more time together outside the group, maybe doing a little switcheroo from time to time to shake things up for the boys and for ourselves?”

“Why, I thought you’d never ask! Heck, what do we even need with the rest of ‘em when we’re the ones pulling all the weight, anyway?”

Joanne loudly clapped her hands, leaving Kyle discombobulated, though this was nothing next to the incomparable dread welling inside him with nowhere to go, especially not with Roberta’s bulging ta-tas still keeping him hostage. The larger woman looked like she might just start dancing a jig, if not simply jump for joy. Even rocking forward on her toes without going airborne, Joanne’s curvaceous domes wiggled and flopped about. Then, jittering as though she’d been stuck with a cattle prod right in her spare-tire midriff, the woman hunkered slightly, reaching under her skirt and temptingly gliding her fingers around the panty-cocooned shape of her son, who was still deeply engaged in a creamy gargling by her overbearing snatch. A deep-throated moan gave way to impish giggles, and Joanne shared another knowing stare with Roberta, now so in-tune they hardly had to speak to share their visions.

“I’m not the only one in my family who likes the sound of that, I think,” she teased.

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” Roberta snickered, eyeing the tangle of skirts and fluid-drenched silk below, while still unable to spy the three-inch pussy-lurker in the flesh. “But you have my word, Joanne, I’ll take very good care of him.”

“Your little love would get exactly the same, darlin’.”

Kyle barely had to wait for the woman to finish speaking this obvious lie before she immediately proved it wrong. Cupping up from below, having forgotten Tommy to his regular cunt-munching again, Joanne took hold of Roberta’s hefty bosom. As with any tits of such girth and surplus puppy-fat, it took some hard pressing to get the twins in motion, with Joanne’s palms rising several inches into the doughy yield before the chubby mounds, with Kyle at their peak, ascended.

Since Roberta only watched the propping up of her breasts with her hands on her hips and a smirk of consenting approval, Kyle was left to fend for himself, verging on slipping deeper between the pair of greasy blanch-white walls of skin. “Helpfully,” though, Joanne prevented losing him to the valley by applying force inward as well as up, causing Roberta’s lofted boobs to inflate toward the center even more ruthlessly around the boy. His legs crossed and arms clasped to his ribs by the burgeoning lard of his mother’s chest.

He was so tightly wrapped from either side, how Kyle imagined it might feel to be swallowed by boa constrictor, it hardly felt like being contained by two separate shapes. Roberta’s chest had instead become a single unified mass of solid cellulite, jiggly and balmy-hot and utterly immune to his feeble resistance. Even with his face still showing at the tip of the cleavage fault line, Kyle’s lungs were squished dry, so no matter how much he gasped, the boy couldn’t gulp even a wisp of oxygen to keep his face from turning blue.

“Yes, I’m seein’ a whole lot of potential in this little hunk,” Joanne said. “I’m almost sorry you broke him of that bad-boy streak, darlin’. I’d like to have been able to give him precisely what he was askin’ for last time by sticking his nose in other people’s business. But, either way… why not give yourself a break and let me take him for a spin, say, next Tuesday?”

“Sounds delightful!” Roberta said, her enthusiasm underscored by the uproarious laughter she was barely stifling while her tits were used to play Pac-Man with her son. As she watched Kyle descend into the trap down to his chin, however, with only the amusing circle of his bleary countenance still prodding up through the portly terrain of her boobs, she allowed herself to break forth into heavy chortles. “Have to say, especially after all your showing off today - and you know I loved every moment of it - I won’t be taking TOO much of a break, since I wouldn’t dream of letting your boy to get bored without his Mommy.”

“I’d expect nothin’ less,” Joanne said. She took a wider stance now, unsubtly pitching her hips in Roberta’s direction as an open invitation. Her fingers scrunched the fabric of her skimpy skirt just over the hot zone. “My baby needs to be taken by a firm hand.”

Not one to question such an enticing offer, Roberta laboriously stooped in front of her son-taming soul sister and drew back the curtain of Joanne’s skirt. With the woman’s swollen thighs parted so wide for practical demonstration, there was nothing but gravity acting upon the hideous mess of succulent cloth and helter-skelter hairs reaching out from behind it. The fabric of those panties was pulled so tight and wet over the edifice of her pussy, it may as well have been deflated bubblegum stretched across her ripe cameltoe. The fluff of Joanne’s pubic carpeting irregularly altered its bloated shape as well through the practically translucent underwear fibers, despite being weighed down by enough congealed cum to wring out and fill a glass. Then of course there was the tiny protrusion of her three-inch-tall live-in near the middle, or at least a hint of him, since the majority of Tommy’s scrawny body was consumed between mashing loins.

“We do have such similar parenting styles, darlin’, and especially after all this learning we’ve done the past few weeks, I think both boys will feel right at home in new surroundings. Something to spice up their lives, and especially ours, but also close enough to the familiar that they’ll just… slip right into their roles, ya know?” Joanne sighed, and with a tremulous thrust, brought her sludgy mound just inches from Roberta’s face.

The woman squatted before her didn’t flinch, nor even wrinkle her nose at this intrusion, but only squinted to pinpoint Tommy’s broken silhouette through the folds of her friend’s lower garb. Kyle, from his tubby entrapment, had just as unfettered a view of the action from only short distance beneath, subjected not only to grisly details of cum crust and pube sheen he’d not yet been able to spot during the therapy sessions, but the sharp musk of sweet-and-sweaty womanhood wafting down in a humid cloud. The whole saturated patch of hair-tacked silk and bumpy flesh quivered like setting jelly when Joanne moaned at Tommy’s dire stirring, then boomed with laughter in the aftermath.

“See it, baby? Where you’re going to go?” Roberta murmured to her son, proudly indicating to the site that would soon serve as his torture-chamber-away-from-home. “You’re going to be helping your dear Auntie Joanne out real good from now on, aren’t you? You’re going to show her just as much love as you show your Mommy. Well, all right, maybe not that much, but you’ve still got plenty of affection to give, all the same, and I’d be a selfish lover if I didn’t let others get a taste of your talents.”

“That reminds me. He’s not one of those snobby types turnin’ his nose up at a little friendly anal, is he?” Joanne questioned in a syrupy tone which suggested to Kyle she didn’t especially care whether he was on board or not.

“Well, it just so happens he had his first try this week. He’s certainly got room for improvement, but it’s not his fault, seeing as it took me so long to give us that kind of variety in the bedroom. But, practice does make perfect, and my baby is a hard worker.”

“He’ll get the lay of the land lickety-split in my house, you can be sure of that. In fact, you may find I’ll be doin’ you a favor, darlin’, given my experience in the field. Who knows, he may even be taking the lead from time to time,” Joanne promised. At first keeping straight faces, the two women blurted with slap-happy giggles again at the very notion of Kyle playing anything but the masochistic sub in their games. “Of course I’m just jokin’ with ya there, but the fact is, I can get him whipped into shape for backdoor entrances, no problem, and what’s more, he may wind up preferring it. Just so long as you can help my Tommy pick up a thing or two. He can be slow to start, but you heard him talkin’ to everyone back there. He’s a good boy, and he knows his place.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a minute,” Roberta concurred.

Utterly mesmerized by the three-inch wretch curled over the lush flank of his mother’s labia beneath the mesh and hair like a living clit piercing, Roberta exhaled with anticipation, already playing out fantasy scenarios with a smaller, more malleable lad perfect for slipping into each sensitive corner of every needy orifice. Conversely, Kyle looked upon the exact same horror show of Joanne’s disheveled muff and its prisoner, imagining his first hellish plunge there, and then to even darker and fouler depths around the bend of her bovine glutes, to a pit of such unthinkable pressure and fragrance that it would make even Roberta’s asshole seem a sunlit paradise.

“Do ya think the others are going to miss havin’ us around?” Joanne asked, as the ladies readjusted themselves and prepared to depart the facility for the last time.

“We do tend to carry on, don’t we? Maybe they’ll be glad of the peace and quiet,” Roberta said, again joining her friend in guffaws.

“Nah, you heard them all today! We’re the stars of the show. But, who needs the borin’ ol’ group stuff now that we’ve figured out what really works between the two of us. Sure, talkin’ it out is good up to a point, but-”

“-sometimes you just have to roll up your sleeves and do it yourself.”

With a fond farewell, and a synchronizing of calendars for the first big day of many big days to come in pooling their shrunken boy-shaped resources, the pair of pear-bottomed MILFs parted ways. Kyle slunk as low into Roberta’s cleavage as he could burrow, not wanting to suffer another glance at Joanne before he absolutely had no choice, but the woman’s hungry glare still followed him all the way across the parking lot, ensuring he wouldn’t forget for even one waking instant what was to come, until the exact moment he was finally swallowed whole by her anus.

“Gettin’ a little sleepy in there, huh, baby? Well, don’t fret. It’s been a long one. And Mommy’s gonna give ya plenty of support when we get back home,” Joanne cooed to Tommy once they were alone, as he struggled for survival within the very same place which first gave him life eighteen years before. “What can ya do, though? Big Ben’s just not the same on his own. And you’ve gotta stay in peak shape. We can’t have ya embarrassing Mommy while you’re out spreadin’ the love, now can we?”

It was shocking how “at-home” Kyle discovered he could feel here, even though they’d only been at Joanne and Tommy’s house for half an hour thus far – though for what purpose they’d come, he was deathly afraid to ask. Then again, because his repugnant totalitarian leviathan of a mom Roberta had warped her son’s mind so severely by now that creeping feelings of traumatic terror and anticipatory dread (which he indeed keenly felt in this moment) were very closely associated for Kyle with being at home, and specifically in the master bedroom preparing for another hopeless limb-stressing raunch-flavored rape, perhaps it wasn’t such a surprise after all that the lad was plagued by an aching and altogether familiar sensation of unease. Particularly because he was currently lashed into the handy-dandy revolving strap-on apparatus that his mother had constructed for his use, or rather using him within, as the woman was wearing the false phallic shape of her shrunken offspring squarely above the exposed maw of her pube-forested pussy.

Of course Roberta’s evolving creativity when it came to sexually abusing her miniature shell of a boy had driven her to become rather disturbingly inventive with her toys. Case in point, having once dressed the six-inch-tall lad up as a suction-mounted wall dildo, today she’d stripped the springy highly-fuckable costume of its frills in order to take Kyle on-the-go by looping cords around key junctures of his body, then balancing and affixing him across a thin rubber plank from his scalp down to the heels, in order to keep him optimally rigid – for as she’d told her dick-substituting child many times before, maybe the worst thing he could do mid-coitus would be to go “flaccid” by curling his body into a defensive fetal position. At the same time, though, Roberta had put effort into removing the encumbrances which previously blocked some of the access to her plaything’s nudity, ensuring the highest possible amount of skin-to-skin fondling during each chaotic gesture, but without the risk of bending him at a breakable angle, or even more inconvenient for her, accidentally marooning him deeply into a feminine orifice. It was for both of their pleasure, she’d insisted, though primarily hers.

Despite the humiliating absurdity of that mushroom-capped cockhead hat on the old wall-stuck variation of the toy, which further drove home Kyle’s utility as a full-body slot probe and nothing more, the boy found that he actually missed it now. This was a sentiment he never dreamed he’d hold, but the improvised rig Roberta had built for him now to serve as the central structure of her strap-on, with his quivering shape bound in place using narrow strategically-placed yet painfully-rigid rubber restraints, left most of his bare frame terribly exposed. This also included no protection for his highly-vulnerable shrunken cranium whenever it was inevitably made to lead the charge of her next lust-dripping thrust, a helmet would’ve at least given him some confidence that he might emerge from whatever hole he next entered without sustaining a full-blown concussion in the process. This was a safety complaint he’d humbly raised several minutes ago while she knotted him into place, but as he’d only received a grumble in response, Kyle doubted the issue would be discussed further.

He’d initially been facing down while Roberta secured the device around her monstrously supple hips, giving the shrinker a vertigo-inducing view straight toward the distant ground. But once the frizzy-haired giantess finished tightening those bonds which granted her this provocative erection-simulating stalk prodding from just over her crotch, she took great pride in admiring her handiwork by pinching her son around his ribs with her thumb and middle finger, and casually twisting him slowly around on the swiveling strap-on base to instead be facing up at her. Nice as it was to no longer be effectively hanging horizontally upside-down with all the blood rushing to his head from his vantage gazing down the dizzying trip past Roberta’s roomy legs, Kyle couldn’t say he was much fonder either of receiving this landscape view up her pudgy torso, past that robust weightily-buxom chest, to her grimly disappointed countenance.

“I just can’t understand it, sweetie. I truly can’t,” Roberta scowled, with venom punctuating this term of supposed endearment. Her fists rested upon her hips as she glowered down at her dildo-harnessed progeny. “You know I don’t just instruct, reward, and discipline you for my own health, don’t you? It’s for your improvement. And by God, no matter how many times I have to remind you to trust that I know what’s best for you in all things, here we are all over again, playing this same dull game, where you just insist on breaking my heart by letting all these useful life lessons bounce right off that stubborn little head of yours. Well, darling, I have shown you a saint’s patience, but now we’ve reached a point where I can stand by and take your selfishness no longer. Honestly, I have had it up to HERE with all your childish whining and whipped-up theater tears, and most of all your lack of perspective! You really don’t understand, even now, how good you’ve got it with me, do you? And in case you were wondering why we’ve come to see our friends today, it’s because I’ve been sharing these recent problems of yours with Joanne, and she agrees with me that the best treatment will be to give you a glimpse of what life could be like, and will be like, if you continue to defy me until I have no choice but to take a… firmer hand in parenting you. Much as I always enjoy using a carrot to guide you, sweetie, there is a STICK as well. You’re in that stick now, if you can’t tell for yourself. And what’s more, Joanne has generously agreed… in fact, insisted… on personally helping make sure the lesson truly sticks this time.”

Logically, Kyle could’ve probably estimated already, based on his current lodging in his mother’s jerry-rigged strap-on, and the fact that they were patiently waiting in Joanne’s bedroom while she popped away for a quick stop in the adjoining restroom, that whatever was coming next was going to involve both his mother and the even-taller, even-plumper, ultra-savage middle-aged titaness they’d met in group therapy. It was only after the six-inch boy heard his mother declare their purpose today aloud, however, that it sunk in just what kind of repulsive hellishly-sloppy nightmare he was in for today. His cheeks turned pallid and his involuntary disgust-gyrations caused the rubbery protrusion of the human strap-on to jiggle as it hung from Roberta’s nethers.

“M-Mom…” Kyle gulped, per usual finding it difficult to speak coherently in between brain-spinning palpitations. Once again, he was placed in the unthinkable position of having to bargain his way into the lesser of two evils, which incredibly, probably involved requesting a mere solo assault by his parent back home, instead of uncontrolled likely-injurious double-teaming carnage between both Roberta and Joanne. “Y-You… you CAN’T! You’ve SEEN how s-she… she… w-with Tom… I mean, h-how could I even… d-don’t you know what that’ll do to me if you l-let her help you? P-PLEASE! I’m sorry! I was r-really really bad! B-But I just… want… to be with you! Mom, I’m b-begging you, if we c-can just go home now, I won’t talk or cry at all, w-while you-”

Kyle’s argument was interrupted not by a stern shushing from Roberta, though she was just parting her lips to do so, but rather a guttural baritone roar from the master bathroom which caused both mother and tiny son to automatically turn their heads. Joanne’s unabashed vocal distress echoed out of the lavatory and became perfectly audible throughout the rest of the house, as did the resultant commode-splashing avalanche of her bowel-cleansing relief once she finished pushing. The noise of her sweaty grunting and leaden offloading into the toilet water would’ve easily drowned out Kyle’s continued blubbering and even Roberta’s inevitably harsh rebuttal, so both remained quiet, forcing the six-incher to uncomfortably listen to the full defecating climax of a woman with whom he was very likely about to engage in a violent size-mismatched threesome in the dangerously near future. When Joanne had apparently finished, there was a brief gasp of silence, the sound of creaking joints and thigh flab unpeeling from the white seat, and then a harrowing wail that wasn’t hers began acoustically rebounding off the inside of the porcelain bowl.

“Oh, pipe down already, would ya, sugar plum?” the woman groused, albeit with a mischievous twist to her tone. Immediately after, Kyle heard the crashing gush of the bathtub faucet.

“You should be grateful you were born to me, and not her,” Roberta snarled in whisper to her strapped-on boy, dispensing with some of the usual doting-mother façade. “She chose to take a different tact with her boy. Precisely the kind I just might have to consider, if things don’t improve between you and I. Bless her, Joanne just doesn’t have the same heart for charity as I do, which means she wouldn’t tolerate half of what you put me through. Do you want to know why she’s put him in time-out in there? Joanne tells me that little Tommy was rude enough to have another outburst at their last group meeting. You know, the one that you and I quit because I was, perhaps foolishly, ready to give you the benefit of the doubt that you’d finally outgrown the kind of immaturity you’ve been showing me today. He embarrassed her in front of everyone, and himself. And so in return, Tommy is going to help keep up her hygiene down there for a day or two. Yes, that means exactly what you think it means. She glued him right to a washcloth and simply rinses him off between wipes, easy as pie, so he’s ready for the next use. That, my dearest boy, is what you would have in store for you already, if the fates hadn’t been so generous as to have you come out of ME instead of her. But it could well be where you end up, anyhow, if I don’t see a drastic change, as of today.”

“I’ll c-change!” Kyle obediently yiped in high-pitch, his mind reeling with nausea and imagined visions of what anal-laced horror Tommy was going through in there. “I swear, Mom, I’ll change! W-Whatever you want!”

“Now, now. We both know you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you just can’t fathom having to face the consequences of your hurtful actions. So as usual, you switch on the waterworks and expect things to be sorted out, but still with no intention to make it right again,” Roberta chided in a more saccharine tone, wagging her finger at the boy while he quaked with sickness and fear. “Which is why you should save your breath, and your energy, because we’re not going home until you’ve seen, once and for all, the kind of life you’ve been trying so hard to earn for yourself, despite my best efforts to correct you. You’ve left me no choice here, sweetie, and I love you too much to see you throw away the kind of opportunity that I want for you. Want for us.”

Speechless, Kyle could only rasp in a deep inhale, which was unlucky timing on his part, since at that instant, the bathroom door swung open hard and the vaingloriously naked six-foot-five behemoth herself emerged, backed by a wall of heinously fragrant steam. The muggy aroma of her business immediately flooded into the bedroom, even though she slammed the door shut behind her just as quickly as she’d made her dramatic entrance. Looking under the narrow archway of the chunky-hindquartered giantess homeowner right before she entrapped most of the specter of her dump in the other room, Kyle could see his three-inch-tall comrade, indeed crucified with craft glue onto a stained washcloth and slung-upside down from the roll for the next occasion when Joanne had need of a deep rooting-through her filth-spurting crack valley using her son-adorned toilet paper.

“Well, what do you two lovebirds say we get this little educational shindig happening?” Joanne taunted, licking her lips like an animal, while stomping proudly toward the pair and eyeing Roberta’s handmade strap-on like a choice cut of meat. The burly-gluted giantess mopped excess sweat from her forehead and underboob region, her entire pear-body already richly glistening and clouded with leftover stench from her goings-on in the other room, and loomed suddenly over Kyle’s upward-facing mount, leaving him looking frightfully up at two mature bosomy monuments who fully intended to fuck him into seeing the light. With a husky drawl, she murmured: “So where do we start?”

Without even having to vocalize their plans, the dynamic duo of cruelly ingenious mothers seemed to read one another’s smug sparkling grins, and leapt ravenously into action. Roberta took her place on the bottom as she sunk into the mattress on her back, with the strap-on now an upright tower, and her six-inch son feeling rather like he was trapped in a broken-down standing sarcophagus. While the boy was still angled up to toward his parent’s stout supine form, Roberta chose this moment to again crank the device in the other direction, giving the powerless creature an unfortunate front-row view as Joanne joined them on her bed. With the bulk of both gargantuan ladies now straining the box spring, the plushness visibly depressed beneath Joanne’s limbs as she crawled toward her equally-nude friend and the misbehaving boy, punching the sheets as she advanced and causing her saggy ultra-inflated mammaries to bounce.

As Kyle was already on the verge of a breakdown before Joanne even returned from her pre-fuck plumbing discharge, by the time the heftier giantess was straddling his mother, and by extension him, the tears were flowing and his pleas had devolved again to unintelligible mutters. Naturally his reaction to this damp-thighed union of flabby-fleshed monolith women did nothing to impede Joanne’s advance. If anything, she giggled in adoration of his moans, and climbed atop Roberta all the quicker, somehow able to dwarf her slightly-shorter kindred spirit, until she had Kyle’s mother in bronco-ready position, and the shrinker himself unavoidably tilting toward a beastly shaggy-haired pink maw of a cunt. He fought harder than ever now to resist his binds, but felt the tension only digging more fiercely into his joints when he tried to deviate even slightly from his taut forward-facing position, and so quickly abandoned that useless goal, instead just shutting his eyes and mewling like a kitten about to be drowned in a well.

“Aww, now why don’t we try and turn that itsy-bitsy frown upside-down, toots?” Joanne purred to Kyle, while parting her floppy labia to make way for his bodily consumption. “Yes, you’re here to learn a thing or two from your Mama and me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get something good out of it, yourself.”

Kyle had grave doubts there was any microbial possibility that he could come out of this experience feeling any way positive, but Joanne seemed intent on making him hope so anyway, as she demonstrated by wrapping her chubby thumb and forefinger pads around his flaccidness and commenced vigorously stroking. The sweat on her hand wasn’t enough lubricant to keep her masturbatory technique from painfully abrading the shrinker’s hardware at first, but conveniently for her, the first full dollop of cum was unspooling into a singular trail from the curly rug of her muff, and drooping right into the path of Joanne’s insistent digits, thus lubricating Kyle’s miniscule cock just enough to make the friction abate and a few necessary yet wholly humiliating pleasure-tingles shoot through him from the mature rapist’s sloppy craft. Unfortunately, any minute benefit her fingerjacking might’ve provided him was instantly cancelled out, when the giantess on top shifted herself forward across the plump plain of Roberta’s spread thighs by another precious few inches, allowing her to tease her engorged front slot against the little dildo-boy’s grimacing face, ensuring both his heads were now under grievous assault.

“N-NO! Mom? P-PLEASE! DON’T L-LET H-” Kyle peeped right as Joanne’s slippery pussy petals gooily closed about his six-inch body from the chest-up, and began to tenderly grind against and all around him, or at least tenderly by the violently horny woman’s usual standards of lustful carnage. His cries briefly continued once his lips were submerged, but he wisely abandoned this tactic right away, when his cheeks immediately stuffed with her clotting slit froth like hot ointment. Joanne purposefully didn’t fully sit herself down onto him, allowing the bottom half of his banded-down frame to remain exposed at her dick-teasing whim. Her fingers, now just as slick as Kyle’s countenance with her own slick sweet-and-sour crotch honey, picked up the pace, and finally managed to get a tangibly stiffening response out of the pair’s shared boy-toy, all while she continued thrusting her capacious hips back and forth by enough differential to continually swallow her friend’s son’s top half into her fur-matted euphoria tunnel. As a bonus, his involuntary disgust-shudders helped awaken her clit following each brush-by, a sensation she then actively chased by re-angling her complex of contracting flab and fluid-drooling orifice.

“Well, look at that. So much protesting, and ya still can’t help but show your true feelings,” Joanne taunted loudly enough for the lad to hear, joining with Roberta in a throaty chuckle that cut through the gloppy suctioned in-and-out cacophony Kyle was otherwise suffering in his pounding eardrums.

Though of course, the noise was the absolute least of the shrinker’s adversity here, as the squishy foreign walls of Joanne’s canal took him again and again, while awkwardly encouraging him with a spine-testing push to rub the top of his head up against her ecstatic bulged-out button. The stench of her cunt juice itself, though not inherently foul aside from some creamy acidity as it was forcibly gargled down his throat, was tainted by the lingering aroma from her not-too-distant other hole, which was so recently used to expel unwanted solids, and still maintained an air of grimy flatulence that permeated the region of her hirsute pussy too. And there still wasn’t a thing he could do to wriggle free from any of this, even with so much gummy liquid wetting his imprisoning binds. She paused only briefly in plucking on his now-responsive nethers below, circling her fingertip around it and even giving it a few bold flicks like it was a doorstopper, but continued the swifter fondling again before his unwanted hardness could be lost. “No need to be shy. Cum just as much as you want to, pookie pie. We’re doing this thing, if you can’t tell for yourself already, so you might as well get on board, because the ship has officially set sail.”

Having now found a rhythm to suit them both, regardless of Kyle’s actual desires, Joanne began fucking the posted-up strap-on man with greater fervor. Ugly moans reverberated from her gullet, those wideset gams clenched into a more aggressive straddling position, and her mane bounced in tandem with the juggling tremors of her rack until hair became glued to her forehead and cheeks by sweat. Roberta, smiling ear-to-ear, ensured her puffy thighs too tightened beneath her friend’s bucking hindquarters, while the topside titaness herself actively humped that living nether-mounted probe. Bracing herself with one arm against the squeaking mattress, Joanne’s other hand was just barely able to continue accessing Kyle’s quivering shlong between her cum-greased fingers. The rest of him was swallowed whole, over and over, into her waiting vaginal port, to the tune of Joanne’s buttock cellulite clapping and bristling pubes scratchily parting for him like woodland brush each time her fat pussy lips took another loud nectar-spitting suckle on his body like a set of toothless gums.

Roberta, even though she wasn’t the star of this particular show just yet, went flush with gladness for the work being done to correct her son, not to mention overall appreciation for Joanne’s no-holds-barred style. Even though she’d seen the woman getting off up-close several times before with the bittersweet help of a virile young lad, she never tired of witnessing it, like drinking in an eerily lifelike erotic sculpture in a museum. The strap-on bobbed and twisted every which way from its central position above her crotch, but her hastily engineered containment measures for Kyle held firm, making sure he continued unwillingly impersonating an erect member for Joanne’s use with his posture rigidly upright and limbs helplessly unable to block her from tweaking his peeper or gulping most of him into her slobbering pussy.

Subconsciously, Kyle was aware that he was experiencing some vague mechanical relief in his groin area thanks to Joanne’s unceasing finger primps while she bounced on him, but just about every other part of his body was now lost in the panged throes of a pressurized asphyxiating storm. His chest felt ready to cave in, the longer those sticky walls of her chute undulated around him; his stomach was knotting with nausea, the more he was made to meekly huff her saltily perspiring post-bathroom perfume; his joints and bones, protected as they might’ve deceptively seemed while strapped into this standing position, were beginning to strain, as Joanne’s sexual fury intensified. It felt like he was ingesting the middle-aged behemoth’s cum by the gallon, having it binged into his system in trickly droves after every trouncing slam just when he thought she might’ve already squeezed out the worst of it, and maybe more so than even what he’d experienced while feasting on his own mother’s fluids in times past, he felt like it just might choke him to death any second, if not for an unlikely sliver of air still miraculously reaching his shriveled lungs.

Maybe worst of all, the moment she had him completely stiff, Joanne’s fluffing support was cut off.

“Oh, goddamn, YES! Now we’re cookin’. That’s… the… STUFF!” Joanne boomed, and with an ecstatic squeal, messily orgasmed simultaneously on top of Roberta and completely around Kyle. The additional flood of drowning pussy broth just about made him black out, especially when she heaved herself down again with such leaden enthusiasm, but he managed to hack through it while nearly descending into a seizure. Throughout all this, her cunt claimed his entire half-foot person, further threatening to sprain Kyle from top-to-bottom each time her need to push him in deeper hyper-extended his body. Bad as this was, though, the lad could at least feel some twisted gratitude, expecting he might receive a hint of a breather now while Joanne recovered. Except not only was there a lack of discernable refractory period for the libido-insane giantess, but she didn’t even bother to remove him from her hole for a spell. The party resumed right where it left off, leading to another brute-force cum for Joanne inside of three minutes, with the boy fully submerged again. This time, due to the unerring grasp of her cream-dripping vaginal tunnel working him like the belly of a snake, Kyle spasmed to a less-than fantastic seed-letting too right as he was shoved inside his mother’s friend, feeling his member buoyantly raked up the viscous siding.

Noticing him gyrate to the finish line, Joanne took this opportunity to allow her labia to gobble him up all the way down to his ankles again in just one springily clobbering booty-crash, just in case Kyle didn’t yet regret his forced orgasm enough, and clenched on him harder than ever. Encouraged by the shrinker’s offering, then, the bubble-heinied leviathan woman stopped holding back, which was apparently what she’d been doing for the first two comparatively coy unions with Roberta’s sex toy son, and ensconced him with a vengeance.
“S-Sorry… dear… about… all… the happy I left on you!” Joanne blearily grunted at her friend in between thrusts, while already Kyle-deep in her quest for the third finish. Her grin was irrepressible as sweat plopped from her neck onto Roberta’s stomach and rampant cum-washed pubes opened and closed around their shared plaything. “Just… can’t… help myself!”
“Don’t even apologize, hon. I’m exactly the same way!” Roberta laughed. “Especially when he’s getting into the spirit himself!”

Kyle was doing no such thing now, though. Despite his prick turning rock-hard before and then adding a spritz of his own ejaculate to Joanne’s unrestrained glop-flow, now that she’d stopped operating his joystick, no single piece of his anatomy was anything less than wildly uncomfortable, and at most, verging on a sprain. With her fingers no longer keeping him centered, the boy was left totally at the mercy of the giantess’s insatiable arousal-swollen hair-trap of a monster vulva, which meant a much harsher battering while she came a few lost oxygen molecules closer each repetition to conking him out. Vile rubbing against the quashy inner walls did accidentally keep Kyle’s cock hovering at half-chub status, but that indistinguishable sprinkle of pleasure was still no match for the onslaught he otherwise experienced. Right before Joanne achieved a third finish atop her equally-bulbous friend, she warbled with triumph, and then in search of the most blissful possible apex for her next finish, hunched forward at the steepest angle yet while impaling the strapped-on inmate at such an instantaneous and unforgiving slant that the boy felt only a curious voiding of his lungs, causing a rib on his left side to crack like a chicken wishbone at the same instant of her constricting lust-soaking jubilation.

From there, Joanne clumsily hoisted herself off the slimy apparatus and Roberta beneath it, with no small amount of booty-waggling, a chaotically tremulous gesture that only served to further jostle the already-wounded dildo boy on his way back out into the light again. His shrieks of pain were audible even before his mouth was ungagged of leftover muff drippings, though he was still tar-and-feathered by a ridiculous coating of stray pube curls, which were quickly gumming dry to his body once back in the open air. Neither giantess paid much heed to Kyle’s obvious wincing distress, however, only sultrily nodding to one another in approval of a job well done thrice over.
“Now, if that’s not a good start, I don’t know what is,” Joanne said.

Act II of this repugnant offspring-rearing operation then carried on full-steam ahead, without allowing even a minute for Kyle to unsuccessfully catch his breath, considering how trembling and weepy he was rendered, now with a shattered bone in danger of puncturing certain innards. This time Roberta stood sentinel at the end of the bed, slowly revolving Kyle back the other way again, to instead face up to the ceiling instead of the floor. Even this gentle motion from her fingers further taxed his injury, the cords around his limbs and narrow plank at his back also doing nothing to soothe the rapidly-worsening hurt either, which made the shrinker even more mind-bendingly wary of how excruciatingly it was going to sting once a more brutal touch than that of his mother’s gigantic hand was foisted upon him, as it inevitably would be. For the next round of one-sided disciplinary fun, Joanne needed only arch herself onto all fours again and back her swinging lunar dumpster in the direction of her friend. The woman proved herself impressively flexible, considering her chunky bottom-heavy physique, bowing her head forward while propping the bloated altar of that ass as high as she could hold it while gradually squinching her legs apart, thereby offering clear access to her raw still-salivating pussy, in order to pay Kyle some doggy-style consequences for his actions.

The boy could certainly see where he was headed next, albeit with vision partially clouded by his distraught tears and the eye-reddening remnants of Joanne’s squirts. Still, the more-immediate agony of his broken rib took precedent. Due to his uncontrollable bodily fluttering, the strap-on was seismically rumbling upon Roberta’s hips like a battery-operated vibrator. Looking over her shoulder and seeing this, Joanne didn’t seem at all to mind the idea of this added accidental feature of his shivers, quietly guffawing to herself again while a long strand of thicker cum strung itself unbroken all the way from her hair-framed nethers to the stained bedspread, all while shimmying her bass in invitation to stuff her full of that Kyle-themed shaft again. Roberta, however, only frowned at her son’s poor manners, shaking her head and tsking with disapproval. Wrapping her fist around the strap-on probe, and squeezing the boy’s ribcage in the process, she rotated the rubbery shrinker-phallus downward again, allowing Kyle to see instead down from her disappointed face over to Joanne’s waiting rosy-pale mountain-buns and tumid V-lips.

“Look at her,” Roberta whispered with a menacing snarl, and scrubbed her thumbpad over her son’s face to clean away the invasive second and third helpings of Joanne’s liquid glee. Ironically, though, even after having his face wiped, Kyle took several moments to refocus, dazed as he was left while his own giant parent’s curled fingers compressed his split bone, though the poison in Roberta’s voice made up for this delay. “I don’t care whether you stubbed your toe or broke half your bones. You’re here because of your own behavior, darling, and your sob stories aren’t going to work. They never have. So pipe down, man up, and try to let this improve your character just a little bit, so all this work we’re doing to fix you won’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, almost nothing…” Joanne interjected with a mischievous giggle.

“Yes, sweetie, don’t you dare forget now what a favor Joanne is doing, for the both of us. I’m not about to deny her the pleasure of our company just because you insist on throwing these childish hissy fits every time things don’t go exactly your way,” Roberta continued. “If you REALLY just couldn’t stand the idea of gaining some valuable life experience here today, then maybe you should’ve thought twice before you started taking advantage of all the trust you and I have worked so hard to build up. But, I think we all know “thinking” isn’t exactly your strong suit, Kyle. And besides, I really can’t say I’m gullible enough to believe you could do this much crying, when you obviously got your kicks in there just as well as Joanne did. We all saw it. All that squirming and bumping around, pretending you don’t want it, while the evidence is dripping right out of your busy little cock. It’s really quite embarrassing for you, dear. Once a tease, always a tease. That’s what I say.”

“Seconded!” Joanne added, then with titillated impatience: “So are you just going to mother the boy to death, or are you going to let him pretend he’s more of a man for once?”

Right when she had him writhing in torment from the compression of her fist, Roberta cranked the strap-on to make him face supine once more and then released the hold on her child, ensuring he was still rightfully facing pointed at his moist target while meeting his mother’s eyeline, and with only a chortle in response to her friend’s unsubtle request, slapped both palms down on Joanne’s brawny jello-squishy cheeks to pry them apart. Wider and wider those doughy hocks splayed, creating an even more dead-on route for Kyle to the pubic shrub mire due south on the crack valley from her anus. As Roberta pressed her knees up to the mattress, then, aligning her son’s face just so with Joanne’s exposed pleasure socket in readiness to ram him back within, Kyle batted through the tears and found just enough presence of mind to recognize how much more of a hell this voyage was going to be for him, considering the damage already done to his body, which could easily be repeated on a crippling scale.

“M-MOM!” he croaked, twitching like a mental patient. “IT – HURTS! SO – MUCH! P-PLEASE! DON’T – MAKE…”

“Oh, all right, if you really are going to be so spoiled about it, I suppose we can give you a little something to help take the edge off,” Roberta sighed, rolling her eyes, before batting a fingertip down against her son’s lifeless rod. As there was already a glistening cluster of tacky snatch gloop weighing down Joanne’s dark-brown crotch garden, Kyle’s mother needed only scoop her boisterous fingers into the rich muck like a bear’s claw through a beehive to collect a substantial volume of it into her palm. The six-five giantess gutturally crooned in response to this intimate theft, while the husky pillars of her thighs quivered with need, but Roberta didn’t satiate her friend just yet, first cupping the overly-generous glob of cum around her son’s midsection to thoroughly lube him back up for action.

Of course it wasn’t enough just to primp him for unwanted action again. While twiddling her lube-drenched offspring’s unfortunately still-responsive rod, Roberta edged her legs forward just that much more, until Kyle’s head was wreathed by the sodden thicket of pube-squiggly gunk awaiting him. The odious hairs slicked and slimed against the shrinker’s head like miniature tentacles, and after feeling the probe of Kyle’s head taunting her fuck-ready mound, Joanne could handle the suspense no longer, and made up the difference by jerking herself back one more inch toward the precipice of the bed, allowing her to hump and slake his stimulating skull more vigorously against the quivering rim of reopened nether lips. The moment she felt her son’s weary cock hardening between the sticky pads of her fingers, then, Roberta nodded in affirmation again, satisfied that this would be treat enough to help the wounded dildo-creature ride out all of round two. Releasing her hold on his little stem, she slowly but firmly lurched her plump hips far enough forward to slot her prized offspring back into Joanne’s muff-plastered sinkhole.

Making matters worse for Kyle, because their hostess’s vulva was already rendered wide-open and oozing from the taller giantess’s impatient play-thrusting before, very little effort was required on the part of either middle-aged monster to entomb him anew in Joanne’s pulsating boy-guzzling cunt. And as the latter was already made to wait, there was no delay this time in Roberta hammering her strap-on ward up and down the compressing pink-mawed interior slope. There was no hint of coyness, even initially, as the animalistic act was carried out with rapid, barbaric, sweat-generating force. As he was now being driven and fed into the overhang of Joanne’s body-crunching vagina rather than being posted up like sacrificial prey for its hungry appeasement from above, Kyle found the already-accursed experience of being dragged, drowned, and teasingly pulverized up the plump six-foot-five seductress’s crotch chute was soured even further by the sickening torque of his mother’s hip apparatus in constant motion behind him, ensuring that in no single instant, either at the base or peak of each doggy-style lancing, was he not suffering relentless skin-bruising skeleton-rattling disturbance. It turned out that by having Roberta in charge of the action, and by extension Kyle’s half-foot body, the experience was made tenfold worse. Yet again, his mother had miraculously found a way to make him long for the comparatively more endurable activity of before, mere minutes after he would’ve given anything to escape that rib-smushing anguish.

For each full-body pump, it felt like the site of Kyle’s abdominal breakage was being sucker-punched by a heavyweight boxer, with the pain only further enhanced by the flicking abuse his hard-on was made to handle. As his body was partially sludged back out of Joanne’s pussy each time, with cum strings and shed pubes splaying away from his shrunken frame like a flasher’s trenchcoat, his erection was mushed down against the fleshy hood of her lip-smacking pussy, only to have his extremity painfully flattened back between his thighs again from the velocity of his abrasive re-entry during the next windup, since the pear-rumped titaness’s loins were clamping in so hard around him now that there was simply no room for the protrusion of his mast to exist, not while the sloshing muscular cheek-textured tunnel seemed to be narrowing more ferociously, the closer Joanne came to her second climax. On top of all this, Kyle could feel his joints tested more grievously than before, with his shoulders and hips in particular straining like tug-of-war ropes preparing to give way, the harder and hotter he was slathered in the winnowing grip of her greedy nectar-sluicing cavity.

And though opening his mouth to scream only intensified Kyle’s torment, such rationale was no match for the miserable body-wracking impetus of needing some way to express this unimaginable pain to the outside world, even if it meant taking another clogging throatful of horny fat-assed spinster goo, because otherwise he was liable to explode due to the all-fronts assault on his ribs, limbs, and cock. Surely if Roberta heard the depths of his affliction, even her tragically high tolerance for her son’s mid-rape complaints would be surpassed? Despite that hope, as Kyle shrieked louder with every pulsing rapidfire entry into Joanne, going hoarser and more pathetic as his throat too was shredded from effort, his mother showed no hint of altering her current devotion to her friend’s needful privates in order to placate her child’s rasping yelps for mercy. If anything, Roberta seemed to get more into the act as Kyle’s shrill pleas were noted and answered with more crotch dribbles, adoring the gusto she was able to use on Joanne, given their similar sizes and predilection for rough sex. Neither of them had to pull any punches. Goose bumps prickled over her pale stretch-marked silhouette, and her throat oomphed like a cow’s in heat, as she was only further encouraged to embrace this powerful squirt-worthy stance by Joanne’s own approving efforts to cement their bodies that much closer together, continually sealing that precious distance Kyle had previously been able to enjoy between his mother’s cellulite-creased thighs and the other woman’s hairy humid slop-clapping cunt.

Further and further back, Joanne ventured, practically spilling her bottom-heavy lower half right off the end of the mattress, which was very near to tipping now, and slamming the dual battering rams of her husky moon-round glutes into Roberta’s thighs. Kyle’s mother held firm in her position, though, gripping the bedposts for support and refusing to let herself be pushed back, until her waist and Joanne’s upside-down nether valley were fully united in grimy blushing flesh-rubbing congress, with the six-inch boy sandwiched between them unable to touch even a molecule of outside air now during the final lead-up to this rabid-dogged finish. For another impressive several minutes of whole-hearted tandem thrusting, Roberta and Joanne viciously fucked little Kyle’s gasping practically-hobbled form until, with a fresh geyser of pussy froth and a belly-wrought moan of satisfaction from the latter giantess resonant enough to quake the bedroom walls, the deed was completed again. And with that seismic finish, too, came a wrenching twerk from that mountainous bass that at last pushed the shrinker’s body past its limits again, this time popping his arm clean from its tiny socket at the instant of her vulva-clenching rapture.

“Well… that’s certainly a shame,” Joanne sympathetically cooed, still heavily catching her breath, once Kyle had been removed from her honeypot. Still nakedly situated on the end of his parent’s instrument, he’d been humiliatingly re-coated in a gloppy body suit made entirely of her sensuously flavorful cum and rampant loose pubes ripped away Brazilian-style due to friction and then tacked onto the pussy soup blessing the shrinker’s inside and outside. Not only was he still wincing from the aggravated pain to his shattered rib, but his arm plainly hung limp as a ragdoll’s from his purpling shoulder, obviously dislocated at a wildly incorrect angle outside the hogtied cords. “You’ll have to forgive me, sweet cream, if I happened to give you something of a kink there in the heat of the moment. It’s safe to say I don’t always know my own strength. And not to place blame on my own misbehaving little lover, but I admit, the fact that Kyle is so much bigger than Tommy just might have made me a tad overzealous, thinking he could take double the fun. I must say, I can’t help but feel a little bit responsible.”

“Yes, this may have gone a bit further than I intended…” Roberta replied while stroking her chin and staring down at the tortured strung-out victim still quavering in multi-faceted pain among the cords keeping him usefully stretched out in phallic posture. While Kyle heard the mild remorse in her voice too, however, there was an air of inquisitive objectivity to her tone, despite her only offspring’s sputtering pang-wails, as though she was attempting to find the source of a leak in a faulty faucet so she could plug it back up. “I admit, if anyone’s to blame, it’s me for having put this handy little toy together so quickly, and maybe also for not having done enough due diligence to build up my little darling’s stamina, even after all the practice we’ve had. Really, sweetie, I am sorry for not preparing you well enough. This certainly does put a damper on things, doesn’t it? I can’t even tell you how guilty I’m going to be if the lesson has to end prematurely.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it! Give him here!” Joanne happily chimed. She sat forward on the bed, her floppy hot-air-balloon udders hanging against her stomach and dripping with sweat from every pore, and gingerly pinched Kyle’s bum arm between her fingertips. “Don’t worry, Roberta, dear. I was a nurse just a few years back. Of course, I’ve never had to reset a shoulder for someone so small, but it’s all the same principle! Now just hold tight, sugar plum. You might feel a slight sting.”
Once again underestimating her strength, whether by design or not, Joanne tweaked her chubby fingers as though opening a can of soda, and with a creak of bone and another mousy squeal from poor Kyle, his shoulder was “repaired” by the giantess’s somewhat-rusty nursing expertise.

“Lookie there! Good as new!” Joanne beamed.

“You certainly are a woman of many hidden talents, Joanne, I’ll say that much!” Roberta gushed. “Kyle, hon, where are your manners? Don’t you have something to say?”

“T-Thank… thank… y-you…” the boy wheezed under his breath, barely audible in between the tear-soaked mewls. While he’d been given control of his arm again, that autonomy was short-lived when his mother handily re-tucked his arm into the imprisoning binds of the strap-on. There wasn’t a single part of him right now not taking on some of the worst pain he’d ever faced.

“A little shy, but we’ll take it, given the circumstances,” Roberta shrugged, obviously disappointed with her son’s half-hearted attitude. Joanne, meanwhile, having been rejuvenated even more quickly this time thanks to her selfless gesture for Kyle, was already laboriously shifting the buoyant ultra-supple monument of her mature bare-assed anatomy back into position for the finale of today’s disciplinary exercises. Again he saw her readying herself to consume him, only this time, the frumpy frizzy-haired leviathan wasn’t arching her back quite as much, instead letting her buxom butter-balled ass cheeks align with her friend’s living coital aide. Gulping through the quarts of gelling Joanne-juice still stuck in his gullet, a creeping sensation of déjà vu came over Kyle, recognizing what was next even without any of his mother’s usual pronouncements to spoil it.

Then something more tangible came over the boy, too, when from above, Roberta hocked in the back of her throat, then after swishing the gooey payload in her lips, spat a warm caramel-thick wad of saliva onto her upright son’s torso. A droplet also struck his grievously-molested groin, though in fact this wasn’t her primary intention. Once she’d dispensed a suitable quantity of disgusting spit onto Kyle’s chest, she again took him in her fist and mimed jacking off the entire strap-on shaft, thus spreading the bubbly drool head-to-toe across the six-incher’s shivering form. He gave another couple hollow yelps when, in the process of stroking for maximum lube distribution, Roberta’s possessive thumb again rolled heavily across his damaged ribcage and repulsively bruised shoulder. No sooner did she finish rewetting Kyle in his entirety before plunging her son’s pounding temple against Joanne’s anus, just as the deepest hemisphere flesh was again pried apart for clear sphincter-probing access. She didn’t attempt to push him straight inside, however, but instead performed a controlled hip-circling shimmy that massaged the six-incher’s spit-and-cum-painted face around the sunken rim of Joanne’s even-scarier orifice. A few scant hairs trailed against Kyle’s face as he was repeatedly looped around the other-wise smooth and tender region bordering the giantess’s starfish hole, these dark wiry undercarriage strands representing spillover transitioning across her taint and down to her significantly unkempt bush. Given what was about to happen, though, the shrinker would’ve gladly taken on another muffling face-full of ripe soggy twat carpeting twice as thick as Joanne’s usual mess, if only it meant avoiding a stomach-churning voyage down this particular channel.

Then, in an act that would’ve made it seem as though Joanne had read his mind, if not for her no-doubt loose rectal musculature, the hunched-over giantess released a modest burbling poot breeze straight into Kyle’s perspiring face like the door of an oven blowing open without warning. Her eggy toe-curling flatulence swirled around the boy’s head for a moment, sinking in and further provoking the agony-induced migraine he was already soldiering through. More horrifically inspirational to Kyle, though, wasn’t the rancid aroma she’d been gassing into her son in the adjoining room before, but the actual unpuckering of her hole itself in order to douse him in zesty wind. Suddenly recognizing just how real this situation was, aimed for a butt-fucking denouement while barely hanging on with a shaky arm and a rib just about turned to powder by now, Kyle just managed to let off an unintelligible screech appealing to whatever scrap of compassion remained in his mother. As always, Roberta was quick to drown out his irritating noise with a hard shush, and then just to make sure he could offer no more mood-killing distractions, she took this opportunity to screw-drive her dildo son into Joanne’s brown-eyed spigot.
Act III of this consequential fuck carried out in homicidal, unromantic, pump-frenzied fashion between the homely and wholly unforgiving titanesses. As had become tradition when nearing the end of these incestuous teaching opportunities, Kyle’s own lingering wakefulness had become an albatross hung around his neck, making him pine to black out with each pistoning thrust back into Joanne’s asshole, so as to be spared at least some of this late-stage exacerbating of his crippling pains. No matter how much he wished for it, however, even his own body didn’t seem to be on his side now, as evidenced by Roberta’s ability to get yet another partial rise out of his godforsaken thumbtack member while lubing him up with halitosis-muggy saliva. He was just part of the machine now, it seemed, and would be damned to remain at the ugly heart of this overheated fluid-flying dance until their ritualistic hat trick of triple orgasms for Joanne was achieved, regardless of whether the two-teaming moms had to snap every part of him in half to do it.

The bigger giantess’s engine especially was running hotter than ever, judging first from the outside by her beet-flushed cheeks and skin uniformly sweat-glazed like a beached whale, but Kyle got an even worse taste of her personal climate’s scalding rise while fully submerged in her anal port. Though naturally the temperature was made even more unbearable by the occasional spurts of trauma-encouraged farts that squelched their way around and straight past the miniaturized strap-on lad, with every localized bowel-cyclone beefy and sweltering as the last puff, and the repeated emissions threatening to give her butthole visitor a case of heat stroke at the same time as a sense of nigh-permanent nausea due to the leftover aroma of her semi-successful toweling off with Tommy from before.

“You’ve… got to… excuse me… Roberta, dear,” Joanne croaked in between hard drillings and subsequent toot-offs that made it sound as though there was a whoopee cushion affixed to the end of Roberta’s dick-disguised offspring. “This is… really… too… embarrassing!”

“Don’t give it another thought,” Roberta said, again instantly putting Joanne’s insecurities to rest, as she valiantly continued plunging her son into the stench-bottled hot zone of her rotund bestie’s most abominable hole. “We really are alike in so many ways. I can only imagine it helps stubborn little Kyle feel RIGHT at home! Besides, the way I see it, the lesson is really going to stick all the better this way. They say smell is the most powerful sense for memory, you know, and if nothing else, I want my precious misguided sweetheart here to remember what we’re working so very hard to teach him today.”

Indeed Kyle was struck by a haunting sense of déjà vu each time his little lungs bulged with Joanne’s putrid methane blarts. Sometimes her flatulence announced itself with a threatening gurgle spiraling from deeper in the moist crypt of her GI system’s out-spout canal, and sometimes it just piped stealthily around him, noticeable first by its dragon-like anal fire breath before the salty eye-watering vulgarity could even curdle his shrunken nostrils. The toxic digestively-putrid flavor baked into this third permutation of educative sexual violence, not to mention the accompanying greasiness of her tight inner walls, interwove hypnotically with the body-contorting torture of being plugged in and out of Joanne’s asshole so fast and ruthlessly that Kyle was honestly starting to wish he didn’t have any bones left. Such an impairment would’ve at least spared him the searing blows to his black-bruised ribs, which he was quite certain by now would never heal exactly right, even with the best doctor on Earth resetting them. He couldn’t tell if it was just a hazy side-effect of swallowing so much broiling rectal smog or a straight-up sign of serious internal bleeding, but each re-entry thrust inside the giantess’s barely-kempt hole made him feel like his innards and skeleton were collectively being jarred askew, pinching and pressing against surfaces they weren’t meant to touch. He doubted he’d be able to stand up straight even with crutches under his arms and strings hung from his shoulders, operated of course like a marionette puppet’s by his mother.

The nearer to her trifecta orgasm she came, the louder Joanne barked and the more her hornily hunkered bulb-bottom seemed in danger of humping itself clear off the bed, like a planet hurled out of its natural orbit. This only compounded Kyle’s painful trajectory, with each inward propulsion bashing his face harder through the reeking residue sheen that Tommy had failed to collect during his last visit here, while simultaneously grinding his ribcage and hyperextending his limbs along the steaming curvature of her backside interior as it all clamped around him at the apex of each insertion with increasingly possessive savagery. The layer of his mother’s spit lube had quickly worn away, either rubbed off or drenched into him, and without a stream of libidinous fluid glazing the way, these whiplashing journeys to and fro were only turning more onerous: a friction-cursed grindfest rather than an innocuously slippery intake.

Kyle quickly found himself actually missing the relative-malleability of Joanne’s well-trod cunt flesh as it had stretched limply to invite him in before, and even the cushioning outside provided by her pubic hedges, despite the itch factor. Though the woman had an obvious affinity for getting her anus boy-piped with a shrunken sacrifice, the apparent lesser usage of this puckery entrance combined with the more restrictive nature of the tunnel once inside automatically ensured the walls in here were not as prepared to accommodate whatever angle Roberta chose to skewer her son into this monstrous rectum-buttered asshole. Especially not while Joanne wasn’t relaxed in the slightest, as she likely had been while dropping the kids off at the pool in the other room. Every muscle from her hips-down seemed to be intimately engaged now to its most rock-hard degree, no matter how small or slight, like a spiraling kaleidoscope of meaty sweat-dripping middle-aged blubber all squinching rhythmically around the strap-on lad in insatiable sequence, all while bombing a pattern of damp farts down his gullet and pounding repeatedly on his previously-dislodged shoulder and crumbling bone.

In spite of Kyle’s pang-shrieks reaching their most bird-like extreme, though, Joanne was also now producing the throatiest ear-splitting gut-moans of the day. Her bed-smacking wails of ascendant euphoria drowned out her miniscule guest’s pleading last-ditch noise, just as her flabby unclean intra-cheek socket was more-literally drowning him in dammed perspiration and beany gas, all while the collapsing tunnel seemed just a few more pumps away from crunching so hard that Kyle was left a quadriplegic. Each bouncy romp made another trail of cum spit from Joanne’s riled pussy, and a cloudburst of drizzly sweat to rain from the rest of her overlapping hills of arousal-pinked plumpness. The momentous swing of her bovine sacs, which dragged and quashed against the bedspread during each upward spring, clapped together in tandem with the suctioned slurp of her grimed bunghole re-absorbing Kyle then ejecting him again at blinding speed. Roberta, too, was working harder than ever, gasping for relief while corkscrewing her own rigidly-erected son into a putrescent, exertion-sticky, wholly nightmarish hellhole with such animal malice that she actually had to rest her forearms against Joanne’s globular cheeks for balance, as well as to help keep them fully spread, to prevent herself from collapsing atop the larger woman mere moments from the gushy summit of today’s most important lesson.

“Oh, YEAH! GIVE – IT – TO – ME – HARD! GET – IN – THERE! FUCK, YES!” Joanne bellowed, bunching the sheets in her fists, while frizzy sweat-sopping tangles of hair fell over her eyes. No matter how much practice she’d had with Tommy, working his three-inch-form over every which way and discerning his absolute anatomical limits for their rowdy fun, she’d simply never been plumbed anything quite like this before in either hole while using her own naughty child. Drunk with amorous thirst, her head spinning into a tizzy and her hindquarters phenomenally electrified with vibrant hole-plugging sensation, the six-five fat-bootied mountain-woman roared to the finale of the day’s fireworks show, spraying a liberal web of ejaculate from one opening and a pressure-cooker release of gusty toots from the other.

As was tradition when it came to these two not-so-maternal titanesses, Kyle wasn’t lucid enough following his tormentor’s orgasm (especially a trilogy of them) to notice at what point in time he was actually discharged from Joanne’s rapacious hole. His vision remained cloudy for several minutes after, however, stinging from various bodily excretions leeched into his eyes. His ribs were on fire and his shoulder, despite Joanne’s nursing, felt like it had become a vestigial parasite. The boy’s breathing, too, was made ragged as a bronchitis sufferer’s from all the congealed mom-gloop in his airways, and his gag reflex caused him to wheeze almost constantly thanks to all the cheese-cut murk, saccharine-acidic cum, and muskily fragrant anal sweat now tattooed on his palate. Plus, the sharp sensory memory of everything he’d uniquely and damnably experienced in each position jammed between Joanne and Roberta’s bodies made it so he could still perceive everything almost as vividly as though he was still currently plunging into one grungy over-randy orifice or the other, even though it steadily became clear that he was once again out in the open, looking up the monument of his mother’s figure, while she and their equally-vile pudge-cheeked hag of a hostess both took a much-needed breather together.

“My God, that was… that was just… whew!” Joanne huffed, her eyes widening to dinner plates and her lips mischievously curving with salivating gladness, already reliving all the textures and tingles of that riotous three-way series of finishes. She mopped the damp stray strands of dark hair out of her sightline as she sat on the side of the bed with the other hand over her heaving chest, having finally caught her wind again, but her chunky naked complexion retained that same ruddy summer-blotchiness, and was given a uniform frosted shimmer from the body-wide outflow of semi-dried sweat throughout their games. Her thighs were doubly stained with all the surplus honey that had erupted out of her hairy-muffed front maw in particular volume during the last climax. Ecstatic as she plainly was, though, unable to keep a dopey hopeless-romantic grin off her frumpy countenance, Joanne also couldn’t help but pout and sigh when she caught sight of Kyle, still madly fidgeting in fever-dream agony on his mother’s faux-cock protrusion like an insect with its wings freshly ripped off, his body coated in bruises and nectar-glued feminine crotch sprigs.

“That was certainly… something,” Roberta agreed with a sly coo.

“It’s a shame, though, that we might’ve pushed things just a smidge over the line for this poor trooper, in terms of rough-housing. Your boy sure can handle a lot more than mine, dear, but I’m the first to admit, when I get into the zone? I… can’t exactly vouch for my delicacy as a lover,” Joanne humbly declared, then bowed her head in grimacing guilt. “I’d hate to think he would come away from today with any real unpleasant associations. Yes, there was a certain amount of well-mannered rearing I know you hoped to achieve with him today, but he was also such a sweetheart to indulge me this much. Especially when I’ve had such a grand time. I tell you, hon, I’m going to be just sick with shame if the poor thing dislikes me now.”

“Oh, you really can’t let yourself take the blame, Joanne. I was the one in the driver’s seat here, so to speak. Kyle is my responsibility, always has been and always will be. If anyone got just a tad too rough here and there, I’m sure it was me,” Roberta replied with the same reluctant culpability. She cocked her head down at her misery-soaked offspring, stoically studying and admiring what they’d done together, and stroked her fingertip over his twitchy face. “Though, as you’ve noticed… my little darling definitely can handle a lot. More even than he probably believes. But I suppose everyone has their limits, and no matter how poorly behaved he’s been recently, there’s only so much lasting discipline to be had when he gets this badly tuckered out after the fact. Now, much as I try to be the best mother I can be, I’m NOT always perfect. As you know, parenting involves a lot of trial and error. Maybe… it’s just remotely possible… that Kyle requires a different approach than this?”

Joanne rested her chin against her palm now, chewing over these thoughtful statements as Roberta was and nodding to herself while tranquilly observing the scarcely-conscious six-inch boy still laid out on the back-braced beam of his gargantuan mother’s ropy nether extension. Idly she wiped away a few loose droplets of sweat just as the liquid beads gathered enough saltwater weight to begin the zig-zagging trickle descent down her inflationary age-spotted bosom and pillowy spare-tire abdomen, but still didn’t take her focus off Kyle. At last, showing a hint of a lightbulb-inspired smirk, Joanne held out her open hand.
“Roberta, dear, may I… see him, please?”

Kyle’s mother was only too glad to oblige, delicately plucking at the fastened cords and loosening their hold on her wincing offspring, until he was left available and unbound atop the strap-on plank. Then it was just a matter of taking a step closer to where Joanne sat, allowing her friend to gingerly collect the sweat-and-cum-crusted young man herself off the end of her false shlong as though it was a silver serving platter.

“I truly hope I’m not overstepping here, and please do tell me right away if I am, but I just might a proposal for you,” Joanne hesitantly explained to Roberta, while laying the naked six-incher flat across her chubby open palm. Her friend, intrigued, listened intently. “But, suppose that “different approach” you’re talking about would involve me… keeping Kyle here with me for a while, while you take Tommy home with you.”

“For how long?” Roberta questioned, not totally convinced yet, but neither was she affronted.

Kyle, meanwhile, heard and processed this request in his nebulous sexed-out bruise-spotted bone-broken state. Could it really be that the thing he’d been threatened with all day, the thing he’d obediently allowed himself to be raped into traction for in order to avoid, was about to come true anyway? Though he’d faced many PTSD-gifting tribulations since his legal shrinkage, today’s events just might’ve taken the cake for sheer debilitating humiliation-plaguing mind-snapping punishment, and to now understand that the person perhaps most responsible for those feelings wanted to have him all to herself for a while in isolation was almost enough of a shell-shock to jolt him more-or-less back to coherency. It wasn’t just a terrifying idea posed by Roberta, a monster-under-the-bed childhood myth, but something that Joanne herself wanted. Even having traded the rigidity of that strap-on for the clammy squishy-fleshed bedding of his possible-keeper’s hand, with his limbs no longer shackled in place and his spine free to repose more naturally, the shrinker flinched as though he’d suddenly been dropped into a pit of maddened vipers.

“At the very least, I’d think a few weeks together would do wonders… no more than a couple of months, in all likelihood… just to give us the chance to really connect on a deeper more personal level, and also let me sincerely try to make it up to him for today. Tommy and I could use the time away from one another for a little refresher, anyhow, and the more I think about it, I really do believe the same kind of… let’s call it a vacation, could be excellent for the pair of you as well. All four of us, in fact, would be so much the better for it by the end!” Joanne energetically continued, ignoring Kyle’s panic-rousing shudders in her cupped hand. “Now, obviously, I wouldn’t DREAM of ever undoing any of the hard work you’ve put in with your little cupcake here, Roberta, and would be more than glad to carry on any of those methods in whatever way you deem best. But I also have my own way of doing things, as you know, which I think would be both beneficial to his development, and also allow me to help him see what a pleasure it can be for us all to be in one another’s lives. If I’m not mistaken, that is what you hoped to teach him here today?”

At the bare minimum, Kyle would’ve hoped his mother might take even a full minute to consider Joanne’s horrific offer and ponder the repercussions, specifically for him. They were talking about weeks here, if not months, spent in the clutches of this colossal tower of sloppy Oedipal complexes. He’d done everything Roberta had required of him today to pay for the transgressions of his recent complaining, having remained mostly-quiet throughout atrocious corruption over his body and mind, all so he wouldn’t have to be put in Tommy’s place. Yet it took only the span of a few smiley exhales for his parental giantess to vigorously nod in response.
“Why, Joanne. I really do think you’re something of a genius,” Roberta stated, causing her friend to blush even more uncontrollably. “Yes, of course we’re going to do this!”

“Oh, you gorgeous flatterer, you. I hoped you’d like the idea. What do you say we get our boys cleaned up a bit, then, so that they’re both good as new for this fantastic little experiment of ours?”

Still delirious, only now from a combination of hysterical denial and his accumulated injuries, Kyle soon found himself swaddled in a soap-swamped washcloth, while Joanne’s fingers probed him from the soggy opposite side. It might’ve felt good to decompress and wash away the fluids following so much trauma, if not for the needling anguish all across his tiny body that was just made worse by the woman’s indecent suds-massaging. Somewhere beyond, Roberta was rinsing Tommy off over the bathtub, just to make sure his time spent as her best friend’s toilet paper was hygienically dealt with, before she finished their son-swap and disappeared for God-knew how long. Despite comprehending worse than ever now the precise cost of argumentative crying in his mother’s presence, Kyle couldn’t keep the sobbing chirps from exiting his lips, especially by the time Joanne had finished soaping and rinsing him over.

The moment he emerged from under the washcloth, there was barely an instant to glimpse Joanne’s eerily-dull yet doting expression suddenly filling up as view, as she cupped him toward her thin recently-licked lips. Immediately the giantess’s firm pucker wrapped around Kyle’s flaccid groin, hotly moistening the area while mushing the tip of her tongue against its lifeless form.

“You did such a marvelous job, sweet thing,” Joanne uttered in a gnarly whisper under her breath meant just for Kyle to hear, though not fully disengaging her lips from his lower body either, as she proceeded to suckle upon his yet-unresponsive member even more fervently, using hard suction and saliva-tackiness to make up for his total lack of erection. She batted his floppy protrusion against her taste buds, deflating and then puffing her cheeks with feigned effort. “Really somethin’ else, just like she said. Much better than my boy can do, I’ll tell ya that much. Now why don’t you let Mama Joanne show you just how we say thank-you around here for a job so goddamned well done?”

Even if his thoroughly-exhausted cock wasn’t feeling like a broken slinky, though (which it was), Kyle couldn’t imagine how he could’ve ever found this an enticing enough scenario to begin stiffening for Joanne’s ill-timed BJ. His mother had put him in similar positions many times before, of course, and her misguided sexy-talk partnered with her invasive practices never failed to disgust him to his very bones, particularly given the pale landscape of tubby sweat-glossed curves so visible below. The view from up close was even worse, though, as the clamping-down of her upper lip atop his waist meant Kyle was staring directly at the subtle but still-distinguishable peach fuzz hair dotting the area just below her flared nostrils, not to mention the crow’s feet crinkles at the corners of the middle-aged ogress’s eyes that only deepened when she closed them tightly in a pathetic show of passion. His skin absolutely crawled just to look at her, and all the more so while her drool-lubed lips and meaty unrelenting tongue went to town on his obviously unaroused rod, which didn’t have even a prayer of going hard, given the current maelstrom of this unflattering view and his amalgam of dire hurts.

Or so he thought. Though there wasn’t enough energy left in Kyle for him to give forth much of a rise below the belt, his dick miraculously began to respond after a couple sustained minutes of Joanne’s regrettably excellent blowing technique, in spite of everything he was seeing, smelling, and feeling from her. Her tireless licking, forcing his thighs into a bronco-riding position against its slimy pink firmness, while perfectly alternating the temperatures, air direction, and pithy slobber-ingrained sensations all worked so well together, against all Kyle’s best judgment and his overall mood of stone-cold dread, and eventually forced his half-mast hard-on to completion, impressively inside of only four minutes. It was an unexpected finale, but then again, much of today was defying Kyle’s already-warped perceptions of what his repugnant mother-enslaved reality could become next.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Joanne tittered in a sultry murmur, even winking at her secured inmate during his frightened orgasmic afterglow. “You and I… oh, we’re going to have such a time together.”

Once both newly traded shrunken sons were freshly swabbed, and one’s unwilling cock was tongue-christened, Roberta prepared to take her leave of Joanne and her own once-rebellious shell of a boy. Getting dressed, she first pulled up her panties tight against her private garden into a dewy camel-toed impression, only to tug the waistband away again with three-inch Tommy in-hand, whereupon she nestled him snugly into an embrace among her widespread pube thicket and the puffy labial divide beneath. Despite it all, though, Tommy’s usually-catatonic expression showed a hint of relief, which Kyle could understand, considering his current position was a definite upgrade from serving as his astronomic portly-reared owner’s post-BM wiper. He was about to get a break from his monstrous mother, however temporary. Once Tommy vanished down there and Roberta was fully outfitted again, the women said their goodbyes and good lucks, promising to connect again very soon to exchange progress reports and give one another any relevant tips when it came to caring for their sons. There was no more word of warning from Roberta to Kyle, no sarcastic apologies or disappointed denouncements: just a passing eyebrow-raised glance, as if daring him to let her down ever again. And then just like that she was gone, and he was left alone with Joanne, shivering and pain-wracked and wondering if there was anything he could’ve possibly done today to keep himself from landing in this rock-bottom reality.

For a while, Joanne just stood directly before the front door to her house after it was deadbolted closed again and Roberta was long-gone, as if to rub in the finality of Kyle’s current predicament. Probably against every natural instinct she had, though, the mastermind of this boy-trafficking contract between the totalitarian mothers didn’t continue gabbing at him right away. Instead, with the tearful psycho-sexually disturbed six-incher still splayed nakedly in her open hand, Joanne took to caressing his body under thick velvety-smooth fingertips, and peppering his frame with loud saliva-squealing kisses. A few of these gestures were paid to his still-recuperating junk, twiddling his nubby shaft against her thumb after an especially gummying smooch that feather-tickled her ultra-fine upper lip fuzz on his stomach, but mostly the giantess simply petted her new charge’s sore frame. Perhaps she did this with intent to soothe his evident woes, though just as easily, Kyle could believe she did it to affirm her absolute control over him right from the off.

Satisfied at last, Joanne lethargically stomped back up to the master bedroom with Kyle still in her caged palm, placing him upon the pillow only for long enough to readorn her girthy wide-shouldered elephantine physique in a contour-taut nightgown practically scant enough to be a spandex bodysuit, at least around her sizable assets. The moment she was dressed again for bed, then, the thunderously giggling giantess had Kyle in her grasp again, and with her free hand to wedge her swollen mature-freckly saddlebags apart, planted the boy directly into the humid sweat-misted embrace of her enormous cleavage, until only his head still poked up from the fleshy fault line. The pressure from her enclosing tit bulk again sent him into a wincing frenzy due to the forces exerting on his wounds from every angle, though the perspiration-oily terrain at least helped alleviate enough of the brunt to keep him from yelping aloud. Once the giantess appeared certain that he was positioned to her liking, then, Joanne closed her eyes and bowed her head again, coming straight toward his boob-incarcerated body with those winnowing spit-laced lips. Even more stuck now than he’d been minutes before, the boy passively braced himself to be sucked free again for another tonguing assault on his loins, only to instead merely receive a saturating kiss to his entire head that threatened to gulp it straight inside her mouth like a lollipop.

“You certainly can be quite the little troublemaker, that much is true,” Joanne announced in a seductive purr to her mammary prisoner. “But, I can tell you mean well, and that’s what matters. A mother just knows. Even if you’re not my son. Still, I have a good feeling that by the time you finally go back home to your real one, no matter how long it takes, you’re going to feel just as close to me as you already are to her. And, gosh… that’s just the loveliest thing for me to think about. I know deep down, too, that you agree.”

As the despondent boy had no imaginable response to this loathsome declaration, Joanne was too lost in her own optimistic semi-lustful headspace to do anything now but climb into her threesome-splattered bed for a much-needed rest. Reclining majestically on her side while burrowing under the sweaty covers, Kyle’s new mother-away-from-mother switched off the bedside lamp, and slipped into a gleeful slumber within minutes. In the darkness, then, the boy was serenaded by growly nasal snores from Joanne as catastrophically loud as a snorting swine the size of a zeppelin. Resigned, the six-inch captive was left to deplorably contemplate his badly-uncertain future, while purposefully smothered under what felt like a sweat-sizzly metric ton of corpulent, spongy, boulder-esque boob landmass for the first of many dreadfully sleepless nights to come.

Though Joanne had wholeheartedly savored this fun little offspring-trading program with Roberta over the last two months of blissfully self-indulgent son-fucking – which was designed to kill two birds with one stone in order to give each libidinous plus-sized matriarch a chance at some juicy variety while also teaching both shrunken lads an important cautionary tale to be careful what they wished for – the six-foot-five pear-bootied behemoth woman was desperately beginning to miss exclusive rights to her own adorable Tommy. She needed him back on a daily and nightly basis.

And what’s more she was certain, in his own special way deep-down, that Tommy needed his respective real mommy again too. Roberta made for an imposing sexual mentor, voluptuous as she was uncompromising, and had surely improved her timid three-inch-high houseguest’s attitude with plenty of firmly hyper-pleasurable quality time spent together, but Joanne didn’t believe for an instant that anyone could ever replace herself as the sole owner of Tommy’s every thought, emotion, and sensation. It was time to swap back, though with an important distinction: the absolute treat of using Kyle’s comparatively huge six-inch-long frame had certainly shown the insatiable cougar what she was missing out on with a moderately-taller nether attendant. Because as nice as it was to have a convenient three-incher as a lover who could so easily slot into just about any space she chose for him, allowing him to take on any posture or angle or be adhered upon all manner of delightful coital accessories, there also came a time for something sturdier. Once Joanne had settled upon this mouth-watering loin-dampening concept, she quickly got on the phone and insisted that Roberta come by to exchange living sex toys the very same day, right after she’d given Tommy a little adjustment. Kyle’s mother was only too happy to oblige.

That evening, dressed in a sleeveless lavender-hued tank top and her coziest thigh-accommodating sweatpants, Joanne awaited her slightly-larger child’s homecoming with deeply-aroused anticipation. Though she kept herself in check, wanting to make sure she had the energy and libido to glean the fullest possible enjoyment from the “new” Tommy once they finally reconnected as only a mother and son in their uniquely perfect erotic goddess-and-plaything relationship could. Not that there was ever a true danger of Joanne running dry on lust, but she stayed composed all the same. When the doorbell rang, before she’d even set her sights on the resized boy waiting in Roberta’s clutches on the porch, the hot-blooded frizzy-haired titaness felt a drop of complimentary honey already dewed upon her freshly-laundered legwear, but after taking a lengthy bosom-heaving sigh, she marched to answer the door.

“Well, there’s Mama’s favorite little man!” Joanne swooned in a booming voice as soon as she and a beaming Roberta were holding out their offerings to one another. Her breath caught in her chest the moment she laid eyes on her newly eight-inch-tall Tommy. He really had grown up in such a short time. And if she thought he was irresistible at three inches, the urge to use him at eight was practically hypnotic. After making this greeting, she winked at Kyle specifically as she passed him over. “No offense to you, of course, sweetie. You’ve been such a delight, especially after we got over that little bit of… awkwardness… on your part, when this angel of a mother of yours first brought you over to me. So, you’re a close second for my favorite little man. But, let’s face it. A boy needs his real mommy, no matter how much fun it is to get away from it all sometimes. Wouldn’t you agree, dear?”

“Absolutely!” Roberta emphasized, accepting her half-foot-high son and immediately cuddling his quietly traumatized form back against the open-air gulch of her generous cleavage, once she’d traded the new-and-improved Tommy into his own parent’s greedily grabby giant mitts. “This one’s missed you something awful, that’s for sure. I can tell. He might think he’s too much of a man to show it, but believe me, all the signs are there. Once a mama’s boy, always a mama’s boy. I bet any day now he would’ve finally broken down and started begging me to take him home.”

“I know exactly what you mean. My Tommy has always had trouble… expressin’ his true feelings, but we’re getting there, one day at a time,” Joanne replied. Though still engaged in the conversation with Roberta, however, the instant she had her respective son cradled across her hands, with his naked body having nearly tripled in proportion since she last held him, her mind was now obsessively devoted above all else to appreciating the lightweight yet firmer, thicker, and marginally-tougher sensation of his fragile rape-weathered body in her grasp. Why hadn’t she tried this before? Her strong fingers curled one at a time around his splayed-out appearance, squeezing limb by limb, which was easy enough since Tommy was scared just as silent and stiff as the now-smaller Kyle was. Goose bumps rippled up Joanne’s towering heavyset frame to feel how much sturdier and voluminous he was while still retaining that ultra-attractive quality of his usual miniscule powerlessness. It was exactly the way she felt whenever picking up new increasingly-longer and hardier dildos at the shop, and judging their weight in her hand, already vividly imagining what it would feel like to get her money’s worth out of them – though of course the imagined ecstasy was ten times better with Tommy than with an inanimate rocket-cock alone. When she casually sidled her thumbpad directly up against his adorably yet-flaccid scrotum, forcibly straightening his miniature better-gripped shaft as if to simulate an erection, Joanne was almost left slack-jawed from the endorphin-rushing joy of contemplating all the possibilities.

“You really have made SUCH big strides with him, even in the short time that we’ve all known each other, dear. I can’t imagine you’re too far off now from getting him to show his true colors at all times, without any of that silly boyish embarrassment he’s so fond of holding onto,” Roberta insisted, while actively fondling her own prodigal shrinker’s bottom half and burying his face snugly into the bulbous heft of her supple left tit. “Well, it’s getting late already, and I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on. So we won’t keep you. And, personally, I just can’t wait to get Kyle home and see how much better-behaved you’ve inspired him to be. Thank you for taking care of him as if he was your own boy, Joanne. I really do mean that. Let’s talk soon, all right, dear?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of keepin’ you in suspense! No, no, you’re going to get a full report as soon as I’ve gotten a taste of your work with my baby, too. And I’m sure we’ll all see each other again before we know it!” Joanne affirmed, while tucking her eight-inch favorite into the front of her tank top, where he could immediately experience the superior buxomness of her blubbery rack clamping in around him again after so long away from it. Then just before stepping back inside, Joanne held out her arms and exchanged a close bust-compressing hug with her comparatively titanic best friend that naturally sandwiched both Kyle and Tommy at various balloon-breasted junctures of compounding mammary flesh, where it briefly became impossible to distinguish whose freckled middle-aged boob cellulite was whose, before the adoring maternal pair separated with a friendly chuckle and their oxygen-deprived sons were allowed to reinflate again. Roberta made her way down the walk, the door was shut, and suddenly Joanne was alone again with her precious upsized prize.

An instant later, the giantess of the house was quaking the furniture and even the walls themselves with the rampaging emergency of her heavy-footfalled hurry to get upstairs with Tommy. She couldn’t stand to wait another moment. By the time she was through the bedroom door, she’d already begun ripping her tank top over her head to fling it aside, and allowed her sweatpants to slide down her roomy thunder-thighs, revealing to her eight-inch cleavage passenger that those moisture-dotted leggings constituted the full extent of her lower-body garb, as she stood completely nude now in all her ample unshy bovine-hipped glory.

“M-Mom, please!” Tommy rasped, summoning the strength to speak for the first time after catching a spine-chilling glimpse of his Amazonian parent’s plump assets in the bedroom’s full-length mirror. “I’m… s-so… tired. P-Please, I c-can’t-”

Joanne tried not to let the disappointment show too intensely in her face, but it was difficult, especially as she crossed her arms, which led to both her heavy milkers squeezing in yet-tauter around the boy like combatting airbags. After two months away from regular playtime with her son, she thought for certain that Roberta’s tutelage would’ve at least worn him down enough to hold his tongue longer than this before he started in with the complaints again. Turned out Tommy was more resilient in his rather selfish ways than she’d given him credit for. The titaness’s brow furrowed and her lips pursed as she held the boy’s uncomfortable gaze in the reflection, shaking her head and searching for the right words to describe exactly what kind of letdown he’d chosen to gift to his mother so soon after being welcomed home.
“Just this once!” Tommy shrilled, much to Joanne’s surprise, just before she could lay into him with any reprimands. “I p-promise. Just… let me sleep… this once. And then I p-promise, I’ll do… w-whatever you want. I’ll be h-happy about it. Please, Mom.”

The overly-attached mother’s grimace brightened almost-instantly into an irrepressible grin. This, indeed, was a different side of her boy. Yes, she’d hoped unrealistically that he’d come home all but begging her to give him the business right away. But compared to his annoying previous behavior of crybaby sobbing and trying to negotiate his way out of every single time that Joanne tried to derive the slightest benefit from him, this was almost a minor miracle. Granted, it was possible he was only lying to buy himself time, but he’d definitely never tried a tactic like this before, and even under his exhausted panic, she could hear the sincere acceptance. Roberta really had done some exceptional work. Loosening the pressure her crossed arms were currently imposing upon the inward-smothered hocks of her enormous breasts, which allowed Tommy to huff for relief again, Joanne smiled, then nodded to him in approval. What was one more night to wait, after all?

“All right, honeypie. You win. See how nice a good compromise can be, when you just try to meet me halfway? Gosh, you really have changed, haven’t you? Not just on the outside, either,” Joanne crooned in reply. “Though… I have to admit… as excited as I am to know that you’re trying to appreciate better what I go through raising you, the “outside” of you really is… something. You always were my handsome boy. Not the strongest or smartest, but a little looker, no matter whether you’d been shrunken down or not. Having you like this, though… longer, thicker. More of you to touch. To love on. I really can’t wait to fall in love with you at this size all over again. Probably harder, too. Oh, listen to me yammer on. Just like a lovesick schoolgirl. I just can’t help it, though. If I look at you for much longer, I’m going to have second thoughts about givin’ you the night off. But, as your welcome-home present, baby, I am going to stick to my word. You know I always do. And it seems like I owe Roberta a fruit basket, at the very least. Or maybe a basket of vibrators and lube, so she and Kyle can really make a weekend of it. Don’t you worry, now. We’ll get ourselves some shut-eye, and pick up right where we left off tomorrow.”

Now that it had been mentioned, Joanne was feeling rather tired herself, though because she’d unintentionally gotten herself so worked up already, only to have the gratification delayed again, she knew some form of relief would have to be achieved before she turned in for the night. Maybe it would benefit Tommy, anyway, to observe his mother’s carnal grace from the sidelines before jumping back in, literally, tomorrow. She wanted him operating in top form, after all. First raising the substantive eight-inch nudist high enough out from the pudgy overheated thrall of her tits to provide him a sloppy full-lipped kiss good-night upon his whole face at once, Joanne lumbered into her bed on all fours. The springs creaked below her thick yet ever-amorous bodily momentum as she settled herself under the sheets, but with no intention of drifting off just yet.

After shoving Tommy back between her balmy twins, yet not so deep either that he wouldn’t have a good view of the proceedings below her motherly abdominal pooch, Joanne wasted no time in spreading her plush yet brawny thighs apart on the mattress and probing two fingers directly into her pre-wetted snatch past the nectar-glazed matting of her pube topiary for a much-needed rub-out. Soon her eight-inch bedmate’s ears were filled with the gooey suctioned cacophony of his own mother’s rapid digit pulses in and out of her visibly-dribbling crotch, and his body was vibrated to a tooth-chattering degree by the constant full-body tremors that resulted from her all-in masturbation style, which made it even more difficult for him to try shutting out the world and fading into sleep. No matter how strung-out he was from so many weeks of daily bruise-pounding cum-guzzling hole-filling molestation in Roberta’s dominion. Because already, Tommy had a bad feeling that he’d soon wish to go back with Kyle’s relatively-kinder warden instead.


###


As both mother and son knew all too well, the big-boned six-foot-five mature colossus that was Joanne tended to generate plenty of heat, regardless of the activity, which meant Tommy awoke semi-breathless the next morning coated in his mother’s sticky night sweat and somehow even more fatigued than he felt before drifting in and out of ineffectual slumber. Perhaps he would’ve been better off just biting his tongue and joining in on his mother’s cunt-plugging invitation last night and instead begging for the stay of execution this morning. But he’d already used up his one and only get-out-of-jail-free card, and now he’d have to live with the consequences. Joanne was still peacefully sleeping while snoring like a freight train, her doughy chest serenely rising and falling around her cleavage-implanted offspring, but already Tommy’s pulse was racing from the expectation of the hell which surely awaited him once the giantess roused from her probably-wet dreams.

At first, Tommy was genuinely happy to be made eight inches tall by Roberta. Not that it was anywhere near as good as he’d feel to become human-statured again and then run away from home as fast as his legs could carry him, but his happiness had to be measured in relative terms these days. Any upgrade in scope, even if he was still the size of a doll, seemed like good news. Unfortunately, the longer Tommy had to recalibrate himself to his enlarged proportions, the sicker he felt all over again, albeit in a different way than before. Something about being this much closer to his old height and the illusion of his old self, even by a margin of five inches, while still sexually enslaved to his horny frump queen of a mother made the whole thing feel eerily more intimate.

As if, subconsciously, the three-inch-high Tommy had been able to create some mental distance between his experience and reality, almost telling himself he was being brutalized raw by a ravenous tubby-titted inhuman monster fifteen stories tall, and not the woman who’d raised him. That horrific fantasy, oddly, was easier to swallow than the truth. There was nowhere to hide now, mentally as well as physically, because his minor growth spurt also meant that Joanne’s bosomy real estate – spacious though it was – had become harshly snugger than ever around his still-fragile form. And this claustrophobic obstacle of skin-tight hooter flab was only amplified in hostility for Tommy by the tropical mugginess of his mother’s flesh, that ever-present sheen of sleepy perspiration across her curvaceous naked anatomy, the sourly eggy stagnation in the air from nocturnal flatulence, and of course the sleep-killing din of her deep-throated snores.

Though maybe the greatest tragedy of all was that, despite the psychological repellence he experienced at finding himself once again crushingly nestled betwixt his parent’s swollen knockers while suffering the passive textures and aromas of her stout-hourglass silhouette, months of too much forced stimulation in the face of violence and disgust meant that Tommy’s own body now couldn’t help but make his groggy wakeup just a little worse by granting him some half-chub morning wood. Even with his body flushing pink from the pressure and his tiny nostrils infiltrated by the sleepy backdraft scent of the giantess’s toasty mondo-cheeked toots. Too bad for Tommy, however, while Joanne had slept contentedly through all his natural pre-suffocation wriggling against the sweaty spheroid flanks of her tremendous boobage, this one diminutive yet crucial detail of his unwanted biological reaction prodding like a toothpick into her skin seemed to break her sleeping spell at last. That last roaring snore prolonged into a melodramatic yawn, as the giantess luxuriously stretched across most of the bed with enthusiasm that nearly caused the mattress to tilt on its axis, and then she had her hands on him nigh-immediately.

“Oh, you really meant it, didn’t you, sweetcakes? One night made all the difference. I can feel it already. You are just RARIN’ to go, aren’t you?” Joanne teased, much to the little guy’s stomach-knotting chagrin. First caressing her eight-inch boy from the waist-up, reminding herself with a cooing shiver how much fun it was to have more surface area on his nudity to explore now, she was quick to hook her forefinger deeper into that sumptuous cleavage, until she could teasingly bat his miserably-hard member back and forth against the malleable pith-wall of breast mass, causing him to flinch – but not to go soft again – with each tap. “Just look at this precious thing, trying its best to get the party started. Even though Mommy’s pretty titty is just a little too big, even for her big… well, bigger boy… to handle. At least not on your own. But you never have to worry about that, do you? Because we do EVERYTHING together around here.”

Putting her money where her mouth was, Joanne extracted Tommy’s full length out from the stuffy organic bedding of her boob-trap at last, which was helped along by that slippery buildup of sweat deep in the fleshy crevice, and drew his face directly to her thin outward-pouted lips. The lad braced himself and held his breath, but no matter what, he still couldn’t ever quite numb himself to the tacky foreplay of such an overly-familiar kiss from his mother. Of course Joanne was no puritan when it came to smooching her son’s face, and only kept her recently-licked lips puckered tight together for an instant before undulating them out and lightly suckling, as if she meant to engulf his entire head like a lollipop. That comparison was certainly closer now after his enlargement, and the giantess found it was exponentially more satisfying just being able to kiss distinct segments of her adored slave’s body at a time, rather than the whole squirmy thing at once. Accordingly, when she focused on succulently massaging his face with kisses and moaning deeply all the while, Tommy was accosted to an eye-watering severity by the hot musty snore-worsened morning breath wafting out of her throat in an offensively unminted fog.

“You just absolutely can’t get enough of me, can you, my sweet little boy? Roberta was right. You were getting thirsty for your real Mommy, after all that time away. Well, never fear. Mommy’s going to give you a drink to quench that thirst. And plenty of it. What do you say we spend the entire day in bed, honeypot? After all, we’ve got to make up for lost time. The way I see it, if we stay here until the sun goes down again, we can fit in at least three days’ worth of hard lovin’.”

Joanne, still fully engaged in making out with her son’s body from the chest-upwards, kept on gasping and slobbering across the improved handhold of his eight inches while multitasking with her feet to kick the blankets down toward the end of the mattress, leaving a clear cushioned battleground for their escapades to come. After that, the giantess clambered up from her queenly repose and backed herself into the headboard, scooting her jiggly jumbo-padded bare glutes up higher until it became a cinch to spread her beefy gams, pull her knees as close to her abundant chest as her body’s flexibility could sustain, and plant her feet soles-down in close proximity to the bowled-out excess of her ass bulk. Already, owing to her body’s busy sleeping rhythms and the energetic arousal surging through her now, Joanne had a palpably darkened pool of frothed-out pussy juice and salty night sweat collected on the bedspread just below her animatedly horned-up vulva. Withdrawing at last from the saliva-smacking preamble of that fragrant early-morning snog, though probably not for anything that would be an improvement on the situation in Tommy’s mind, the woman smirked broadly, batted her eyelashes, and then gathered both the little thing’s feet into her fist while whispering a simple yet chilling command: “Keep those arms down, baby. Hold ‘em against your sides and don’t let go. Or this is going to hurt.”

Tommy had been barbarically fucked into submission enough times by now to heed the giantess’s warning, keeps his arms rigid as though ready for a pencil-style pool dive, but couldn’t help but burst into a tearfully trembling state of manic denial anyhow. His whimpers started out vaguely coherent, pleading for more time no matter what it cost him later, but the noises quickly devolved into pure blubbering. Having expected this, and already forgiven him for it so long as he kept his arms down like she’d told him, Joanne glided her chubby fingertips up and down his tremulous body, shushing and lullaby-consoling him in the most soothing voice she could produce.

“Now, now. You know the way things are goin’ to be from here on out, cherry-pie. You’re the man of the house… well, as close as Mommy’s little boy can ever come to that, anyway… and you’ve got your manly duties to attend to. You didn’t forget that while you were off havin’ the time of your life with Mommy’s friend, now did you?” she wheedled in a sincerely-sympathetic and romantic tone, though still not quite sympathetic enough to cancel her intentions of plunging him up at least one of her orifices, if not several. She alternated brushing his hair and stroking his abdomen just above that still-standing hard-on of his, giving herself another burst of self-satisfied tingles each time she so tactilely reminded herself of his new size while staring directly at the irrefutable proof of his love for her. “Oh, you poor thing. You really are worried that Mommy’s about to take all the pleasure for herself and leave you with nothing, after all this time away. That’s what you’re scared of, isn’t it? Underneath it all? Well, we’re going to fix that right now. No son of mine’s going to see me as anything except an equal-opportunity lover. And as the woman who owns his little ass forever, but you know… there’s a time and place for everything.”

Joanne lifted her distraught offspring back toward her lips, this time not aiming to make out with his face, but instead planted those readied pink lips around his half-mast dick with greater ease than ever, and began to suck him off with a dexterous vengeance she never could before at his old size. Though the woman had become skillful enough at getting the boy off using some overwhelming tongue and lip action back at his three-inch stature, those so-called blowjobs always turned more into drool-dousing bodily submersions rather than delicate oral affairs. This time, Joanne could really show him what she was made of, cupping her hand at the boy’s back so she could squeeze him more intimately against her gigantic middle-aged countenance like a boy-shaped mask, all without allowing any part of his pleased groin to exit her noisily pumping lips and pulsating suck-happy cheeks. To her credit, no matter how traumatized he was, Tommy would have to internally admit that this felt much better than the voracious lip-smacking violence that normally passed for a BJ from his mom at his old height, and so he inevitably moaned with involuntary pleasure almost as much as skin-crawling disgust. Though his incidental enjoyment was destined to be short-lived, because the moment Joanne had him perked up to full hardness, she plucked his cock back from the saliva-drenched flesh-enfolding kiss vacuum of her mouth, and then drove the lad straight back toward where she’d meant to plant him all along.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff. Mommy sure can get you goin’ when she wants to, can’t she?” Joanne droned, self-aggrandizing and shamelessly hot-and-bothered. Her fist closed tighter around the boy’s midsection as she used his head to not-so-gently pry past the arousal-gooed jungle of her loin carpet, then without hesitation – and giggling from low in her belly all the while – pushed him chest-deep between the easily-flapped gates of her labia. It was a position Tommy had found himself all too many times at this stage in the shrunken hell of his possibly-lifelong sentence as his parent’s masturbation slave, albeit never this claustrophobic or instantaneously crushing, as his enlarged frame meant that, even while not yet shoved as deeply as he’d been inside her womanhood before, the moist flexed-in sauna-sticky tunnel walls of the giantess’s cunt had him in a frightfully fervent grasp much quicker than usual. He could truly fill her up, girth-wise as well as length, in the way that, previously, only Joanne’s dildos ever could. Naturally, she didn’t wait longer than a split-second from her eight-inch offspring’s head-and-shoulder spelunking to loudly and tremulously voice her approval: “YES! God-DAMN, that’s Mommy’s BIG boy, isn’t it? Oh, you’ve grown up so much. That’s how a real man should feel, sweet cheeks. Thick. Long. Strong enough to take on a real woman. Yes. YES.”

Before she’d even finished complimenting her son, Joanne commenced rattling this topside portion of him around inside her pussy like an overenthusiastic arcade joystick, pointing his feet at every possible angle from the outside in order to explore just how many deviations she could find for digging his more-tangible head against the gloriously sensitive tightly-flinching internal terrain. Within a minute of working herself over this way using a sickeningly tormented Tommy’s upper third, the matriarch had loosened up more surface area past her muff, with the rapacious pit of her sex practically trying to swallow him whole of its own accord. She’d also induced a much-steadier flow of vaginal honey, causing it to slosh thickly past her boy’s face on its way out like a syrup-filled rain stick. The liquid-splashing smack of the shrinker’s suffering countenance against Joanne’s insides was joined in chorus by the bassy whooomp of her hindquarters beginning to buck against the increasingly puddled mattress, which brought on more spring squeals from below them that indirectly punctuated each moisture-plumbing orifice slorp. That cacophony was soon supplemented by another noise out of the giantess, who was so quickly lost in the moment, allowing her mountainously ample body to react however was required for maximum titillation, that she didn’t notice at first nor bother to stifle a multi-second fart that began its misty escape as a whistle and ended with a whoopee cushion-style sputter, accompanied of course with that air of digestive spice and bum crack perspiration that gassed warmly around her whole nether region. Even buried in his mother’s cunt nearly down to his abdomen, and choking through pulsing currents of genital nectar seepage, Tommy couldn’t help but catch a toasted unfortunately-tangy whiff of that byproduct toot.

“Ooooopsie-daisy! Excuse me for that one, baby,” Joanne purred in her huskiest timbre, grinning too widely to project much actual remorse for that faux pas. As her technique for pleasuring herself with her repulsed victim’s writhing figure was becoming more desperate and exploratory, nudging him ever-deeper into the steamy lubricant-piping chute with each passionate twist, the giantess raised her volume higher to ensure she overcame the probably-deafening slip-n-slide flesh-clapping her son was otherwise treated to inside her gushy crotch cavity. She’d almost shoved a full four inches of him inside now, with his waist getting closer to coddling her hairy petals all the time. But rather than cram him directly in, she kept up with this meandering pussy-palpitating corkscrew style for the time being, and loved every instant of it. “What can I say? I’m so comfortable and relaxed around you, that I just let loose. That’s a good thing, you know. It means I like lovin’ my little man a lot. A whole lot. As if you couldn’t already tell. Oh, YES! That spot! Get – right – in – there! Come – to – MAMA! God, I just can’t get over what a DIFFERENCE this made! You’re so… much… bigger.”

No longer possessing the willpower to simply crank and wedge her nether-slimed lover deeper inward without a reactionary tug, especially once she’d reached his hips and felt his miraculously still-uprisen cock prod unwillingly at her clit, Joanne took firmer hold of his legs, and then switched up their dance to the inevitable main course of pistoning in-and-out. Yet of course this move, no matter how many times she’d performed it using his flimsy three-inch frame either alone or affixed atop a glass pillar, felt brand-new to her now with a “real” eight-inch man, and so deserved a host of freshly allured moans, the tingliest limb-fidgeting spasms, and a higher than ever quantity of bittersweetly fragrant cunt juices geysering down the boy’s body from within her. Per usual, Joanne never quite fully extracted her son in the heat of this session, only bringing him out to the level of his chin, before she plunged him hard back inside through her endlessly-needy passage down to just past his knees, because any lower and she’d run out of handhold room. Once she’d recalibrated her usual self-fulfilling muscle memory of shoving Tommy continuously to and fro past the puffy barrier of her pube-draped vulva, marveling at how magnified the normal pleasure rush was with his new thicker size as well as how much more forcefully she could stuff without the threat of the lad folding lethally backwards in half, the giantess became more daring and appropriately enlivened by every stiff shapely pussy-flooding thrust. Had she not been so deliriously turned-on right now, she might’ve almost become angry at herself, to think of how much time she’d wasted in keeping her child exclusively at his prior three-inch stature. Sure, that adorable height had its uses, and she was certain Tommy would find himself dwarfed at that level again someday, but it was maddeningly obvious now she’d been depriving herself of a sturdier, sloppier, more-robust full-body fuck with the little guy all along. But no more.

“Oh my GOD! This… this is… h-h-hooooo BOY! Mommy’s havin’ trouble even findin’ the words, sweetheart! Let me just tell you one thing: your father NEVER made me feel this way! No dick ever has, and no dick ever WILL! No, no, no. It takes a whole man!” Joanne burst out with another disbelieving cackle, eyes bugged and lips hung to pant as she erotically quaked from head to toe. She instinctively gripped a nearby pillow with her free hand and squeezed so hard she could feel her fingers bunching together through the cushioning. It really was overwhelming, though at no point yet did the over-buxom rapist slow the pace of Tommy’s messily orgasmic in-and-out voyage. If anything, she sped up her snatch-plumbing assault as the minutes wound tortuously on for the eight-incher in her sweaty fist, pushing him in and yanking him immediately not-quite-free again with a brutal twerk on each powerful reversal that she would’ve once saved only for the densest and most-unbreakable of her playfully-named dildos. At this size, though, feeling Tommy’s wonderfully vibrant body wrenching and shivering throughout the repugnant process of getting his mother off, Joanne could imagine no need for any artificial silo-shaped aides. Such inanimate things would almost seem boring comparison to this jerky, fully-engaged, beautifully-shaped boy she’d reared for eighteen years, all for what was ultimately revealed to be his true purpose in her life.

Meanwhile, Tommy was undergoing his own profound revelations about the uncharted territories of his recently-upsized body, only in the polar opposite direction of his mother’s blissful bed-soaking body-seismic thrill. It seemed that, for as deeply as he’d loathed almost every minute of his time spent down at three inches, he’d neglected to appreciate some of the invisible perks that came with that stature, until it was too late to do anything but painfully notice their absence. While the “old” Tommy might’ve been more vulnerable to injury, tossed helplessly like a cork throughout whatever activity Joanne dictated next for him, he’d certainly made for a much easier and therefore strain-free fit into this hole before. His rapid entrances and exits from her box at three inches, whiplashing and suffocating as they could be, were at least tempered by his smaller and therefore better-manipulated frame slipping in and out like butter, especially once Joanne was really running hot.

Now though, having nearly tripled in proportion, even while the giantess was hornier than ever, guiding him by hand and spewing a honeyed storm of stringy cum all around him, Tommy still felt at once like he was getting fired out of a cannon every split-second, and also being gradually swallowed through the ribbed achingly-restrictive stomach of a serpent. And the fact that his mildly-tougher body was better protected against a spine-snap was just a questionably-worthy tradeoff for a blistering uptick in space-enclosed heat-compressed anguish. It hurt so bad, the boy was literally seeing stars. Unfortunately, Joanne’s judgment that an eight-inch-tall son would make a perfectly tailored living dildo was right on the money, which meant there wasn’t more than a hairsbreadth of surplus room in any direction while he was jammed shin-deep up her hirsute thrumming fluid-logged giant beaver to breathe, wince, cry, or comfortably exist. It was bizarre, to feel simultaneously closer to human again thanks to that five-inch growth spurt, and yet also more cut off from usable oxygen, sopped so full of happy liquid like a pruny organic sponge that it practically seemed to drip out the other side of him, and more violently restricted than ever. His parent’s pussy walls appeared to morph squishily over Tommy’s naked shape like hardening plaster for a heartbeat of time before then muscularly congesting around him with everything she had, as if the whole fleshy complex meant to crumple the lad into a narrower sanded-down version of himself.

“Oh, y-yes. YES! You… wanna… be… all… in… Mommy. Don’t you?” she demanded. Joanne was only having an exponentially better time of her life the longer this game played out and the more adventurous she turned.

Now much better acquainted with exactly how Tommy’s heightened body could be used this way, ready and willing to push him to both of their new limits, the curvy hedonistic perspiration-shimmering giantess had begun to experiment with variations on her favorite headfirst son-fucking theme. For a spell, she dramatically slowed down the velocity she was popping him back and forth along her vaginal tract, taking at least ten full seconds to drag Tommy’s stimulating midsection one-way either in or out, but ensured the boy was allowed no partial respite by this lazier rate when she instead focused upon digging down his face especially heartily into the reasonably-stretchy yet often unflinchingly cramped pathway of her vigorous pussy. She could feel the little guy holding his breath and scrunching his expression in nauseous last-ditch defensiveness as she slaked him so harshly in either direction through the slippery cunt-fragrant darkness of her most sacred sanctum, which only improved the electrifying extremity-lighting waves of euphoria that Joanne received from what, with a child of only three inches tall, might’ve instead merely tickled her.

“Oh, you really are the biggest… stiffest… fattest… juiciest COCK for MOMMY, aren’t you, baby?” Joanne heaved, absolutely beside herself and practically brought to tears by the sheer effectiveness of her son’s enlarged body. Who knew the difference a five-inch upsurge could make? She wasn’t just trying to hype up the boy’s ego in the heat of the moment, either; no prior dick in all her years of bedpost notches, be it a synthetic rod or attached to a human-sized partner, had ever come close to pleasing her the way Tommy was now. Maybe it was on account of his new stature adapted so immaculately to fit her pussy dimensions, or their long period of mama-swapping separation that had made her loins grow so fond in his absence, or the exponential turn-on of making him just strong enough now to palpably squirm in revolt while still unable to truly fight back. Most likely, the secret to Joanne’s all-time euphoric buildup now was a combination of all those lovely factors united. Every plumb and shove and crank she committed upon Tommy’s body, still partially entrenched in her hole at all times, felt like turning a key specially crafted to unlock new pleasure-channels in her after each new speed, angle, or pressure-level she added to their extensive repertoire.

After toying around for a while with that slow motion cunt-plugging style, wherein Joanne was actually able to feel her shrunken offspring’s every facial detail plastered against her spongy inner-chute flesh as plainly as though she was deftly gliding her fingertips across his eyes, nose, and lips, she next became even more daring. Reducing her grip from his legs to only his feet, she was found she was able to insert even more of Tommy on each pump, albeit with less control. But the deeper into this reunion rendezvous they ventured, the less concerned Joanne was becoming with precision. Sure enough, that additional couple of inches of his length that she was now free to gleefully pop indoors on each repetition made yet another world of difference, even if the giantess had to start digging her unmanicured talons into her boy’s feet to prevent her grip from coming loose. Especially with so much natural lubrication actively pouring out of her like a sexual fountain and dribbling down whatever meager portion of Tommy could still touch the realm beyond his keeper’s son-starved vaginal maw.

And while Joanne now lacked the proper leverage when inserting her child up to his bony ankles to impress his head quite so pointedly as before into her buoyantly soggy pussy walls, once she was comfortably in the groove of this newly elongated in-and-out differential, she began to change up the pattern again. First securely pinning the boy’s feet between two fingerpads and a sternly-driven thumbnail, ensuring that no shrunken part of him from scalp-to-sole was spared at least some discomfort, the woman began to twirl him in sensuous revolutions while still plucking him up and down the nearly-full range of her interior tract. Rather fittingly, considering the way Tommy was more or less reduced to nothing but an eroticized piece of meat in his mother’s eyes – her constant adoring declarations notwithstanding – she was spinning him like a slow-roasted pig on a spit. Frankly, the eight-inch lad might’ve actually preferred to be a literal swine for this act, skewered through from end-to-end and with an apple chomped in his mouth, because at least the damn pig would be dead and cooked enough not to feel anything that was happening to it. There was no roaring fire beneath Tommy in here, but his mother’s riled-up nethers were radiating more than enough sweaty exertion-dense body heat to fool anyone into thinking she was actually slotting her miniature sex toy boy into an industrial-grade oven, rather than her own fiendishly stuffy snatch.

“That’s RIGHT! Y-Y-Yesssss! YES! It’s not just Mommy that feels how goddamn GOOD this is, huh?” Joanne lustfully wheezed, barely having the leftover air to speak coherently while bouncing on the mattress and driving her pear-ample hips into the headboard. This statement wasn’t entirely drawn from the woman’s overly-optimistic fantasies, either, as she could feel Tommy’s resilient abrasion-suffering erection dragging discernibly along her inner moisture-sapped fleshiness throughout all these explorations. Every time she’d jam him deeper in or yank him partly toward liberty, she’d feel that spirited boyhood flick the opposite direction and pulse with need. As there was hardly room for the lad’s pecker even while flaccid, let alone its current length, she took this as a particular compliment that he’d managed to stay hard so long. Despite conditions in the tunnel of such inhuman snugness and musclebound rigor that his member, even completely rigid, bent all the way back and forth against his stomach or scrotum, respectively, as it had no chance to remain standing upright against the plum ultra-firm terrain of Joanne’s slit void. Her mouth watered and her head swam with pride, not to mention cuteness-overdose, at that puny yet significant sensation, until she slurred in a voice loud enough to penetrate her own liquid-swamped labial gates and the eight-incher’s honey-clogged ears: “Go ahead. It’s all right. Cum for me, baby. CUM for MOMMY!”

Whether it was because he was aching for any kind of comfort to dilute the symphony of body-clenched pangs plaguing him now, or more frighteningly, because Joanne truly had reprogrammed him thoroughly enough to make him orgasm on command under even the vilest of circumstances, Tommy weakly succumbed to his mother’s brashly seductive orders with a feeble wince more than a rapturous convulsion. No matter how pleased with herself the giantess was to feel her prisoner’s full-mast reaction, though, such endowment hadn’t been earned honestly: adrenaline, jackhammering contact, and general sensory overload were much more to blame for his micro-cock keeping upright under such enormous pussy-pounding duress. His climax was no different. Any orgasmic feeling Tommy experienced was lost in a split-second and then traded back to the same regularly scheduled end-to-end torture that crimped so harshly on his every extremity and choked his airways with gallons of cunt froth. Nevertheless, a cum was a cum in Joanne’s eyes, and once she felt her boy miserably seize to completion – a very rare and generous “gentlemen first” privilege, as far as she was concerned – there was no more reason to hold back the barely-withheld riptide of her long-pent ecstasy just waiting to burst out of her in squirty bed-rocking droves.

Throwing caution to the wind, if indeed she hadn’t used up the last of it already, Joanne began plunging her son forward and backward up her swollen steaming nectar-drooling box slide with a yet-unmatched animal verve. Her fingers curled tighter around his legs, her bicep engaged, and her plus-size cellulite-rich thighs spread into the absolute closest approximation of a gymnastic split that she could pull off, in order to facilitate the maximum-possible pussy lip expansion. Whatever mother’s love or desperately basic human kindness might’ve previously made her halfheartedly monitor the intensity of her handling with Tommy was also gone; there was no difference now in the woman’s use of him than if he was just another colorful inanimate penis-shaped accessory that felt no agony or existential dread. Which, of course, the boy himself had both of in spades. Unleashed, Joanne fucked him into herself with a ferocity that made his months of treatment in Roberta’s hands seem like the most coquettish lover’s shy caress. Her head slammed against the headboard, with sweat pouring over her cheeks and strands of matted-down dark hair streaked across her countenance, as she let loose a shrill vibrato moan that gradually descended into something like a walrus mating call. Suffused with storms of endorphins through every region of her bulbously supple physique, the giantess’s feet kicked at the bedframe end posts with the force of a woodsman’s axe chopping down a tree. Her bare beanbag-plump tush cheeks each squeezed and flared in time with her nethers’ throbbing masturbatory rhythm, as if threatening all the while to tip and fold the entire bed backward into itself like a lawn chair.

Though she was spiraling in this haze of pre-climactic elation, breathless and cross-eyed as she funneled all her energy into the most passionate and homicidal cunt-impaling locomotion she could muster, Joanne still had enough focus leftover to sense exactly how close she was to the finish line. And she was damned close. Another three Tommy-length pumps to go, and she’d explode into that bliss she’d been so long deprived. Sure, she’d had her jollies with Kyle every which way during their trade-off period, but as she so often liked to remind her offspring – and the truth of this belief was clearer now more than ever – there really was nothing more special in the world, or more stimulating, than that one and only mother-son bond. The first, and then penultimate, of these final inward strokes were carried out, delivering a fantastic head-rush and a warning bloom of erotic delight that very nearly crossed the ultimate threshold. At last, obeying pure in-the-moment instinct – and that bottomless hunger of her rip-roaring womanhood for Tommy’s being – Joanne crowded the entirety of her eight-inch son’s frame into that slobbering twat hole at its hyper-sensitively lascivious apex of need, and then let go of him for the finale.

Or at least she released him from her fingers, but the thrall of the giantess’s domineering pussy was far more possessive in its grasp, anyway. She flexed around him with everything she had left, coiling those squashy fluid-slathered vaginal walls so unrelentingly that Tommy could actually feel his ribcage beginning to bend in on itself, teasing a multi-bone fracture with each overpowering ounce of additional tension his towering mother piled into her freakishly contracted cunt. When he opened his mouth to either scream in anatomy-compressing anguish or attempt to beg mercy from Joanne before she snapped something inside him – knowing, deep down, that both choices for said scream were equally pointless – the boy couldn’t even project a single yelped note before the gooey flood of her catastrophic orgasm pushed the noise right back down his throat and wetly congested him into silence. Though even if the eight-inch pussy slave’s own body weight in maternal cum hadn’t come sloshing down the barrel like that, Joanne’s riotous belly-quaking victory groan would’ve made it impossible for her to hear him anyhow.

“Awww, there’s a good mama’s boy! Showin’ me what you can really do. What I always knew you could do, even if you took a long time to let it out. Just look at you. Really givin’ Mommy the BUSINESS! And best of all, takin’ it like a man! A REAL one, with a REAL goddamn DICK! Yes, oh, yes. That’s what you are, sweet-cake. My real man, and my precious little baby boy. Just whenever I need you to be,” Joanne sappily crooned a minute later with a mocking infantilized babble, once she’d extracted her slime-coated bruise-spotted victim from that hellishly humid orifice and cradled him across both upturned palms as though for triage.

The woman was fairly worn-out in her own right after the superb workout of that homecoming fuck, flushed and perspiration-drenched and still gasping happily in recuperation, though naturally her own comfortable post-coital exuberance couldn’t possibly compare to the bone-rocked affliction Tommy was suffering now, just as presently as though he was still crammed wholly up that brawny drowning pube-forested feminine pipeline of his mother’s. Turning over onto his side and retching like a mangy cat, the little guy yucked up the first of many servings of her fragrant arousal he’d been forced to ingest throughout that suffocating nectar-gargling marathon. Helpfully as always, Joanne massaged her son’s belly while shushing him from puckered lips, even jabbing her thumbpad down on his mildly cum-bloated abdomen as though performing some kind of shrunken cunnilingus-specific variation of CPR, and so aided him in vomiting up another couple gunky rounds of her love fluids.

“P-P-Please! MOM! M-Mommy! Don’t… I c-can’t… can’t take… anymore…” Tommy mewled once his lips were no longer flooded with the upchucked loads of his parent’s own crotch oozings. He rocked and flapped like a colicky infant in Joanne’s hands until she lashed her fingers back around his limbs, holding his legs rigid and his arms straight-up above his head until his battered anatomy was stretched to its most ramrod cock-resembling possible permutation, or at least as close as possible while every fiber of the eight-inch boy’s being longed to curl into a shriveled pain-wracked ball like a dying millipede. “Please… j-just stop… for a w-while… t-that’s all I want. Please. It… h-hurts… so m-”

“Always SO dramatic, aren’t you? I never heard so much fussin’ come from any baby boy or any real man. It’s lucky you’re so big and firm and you get so hard when Mommy feels the need comin’ on, or else that habit to start in like a little ol’ hen-pecker would get old reeeeeal quick, sweet-cheeks, let me tell you that much. Just focus on the pecker part for me, if you can, and we’ll get along just fine,” the giantess interrupted, both scolding and flirting at once as she balked over his whimpers. Despite her annoyance at his begging, though, she was pleased at least to hear him merely requesting to delay the next round, rather than canceling it entirely. Not that she was actually going to entertain said request, since she was already feeling fired up again even so soon after that last cataclysmic sploosh of a rollicking pleasure-flowing boy-breaking orgasm, but it was rewarding to see these continued signs of improvement in Tommy nonetheless. He really had come back to her as a new man, and not just because his size made it so much easier to imagine him as usefully masculine and grown-up. Salivating as she scrutinized her nude eight-inch offspring’s shivery canvas of a body, particularly that easily-perked member of his, Joanne couldn’t keep herself from licking her lips and then gulping his full little length into her maw again like a pacifier.

With thankful vigor, she slurped upon that coincidentally limp hardware as sloppily as possible, fiercely pampering Tommy Jr. from every angle with her tongue and enjoying the jolts that resulted throughout his body. His lips might say one thing, but she would always trust the rest of her son’s physiology first and foremost. Case in point, Joanne felt him hardening almost immediately, which gave her slightly more surface area to work with, and so inspired the woman to suckle and pump and spit-shine his awakened erection with even more offensive tenacity. She shut her eyes in theatrical passion, adding unnecessarily cartoonish puckering noises to the mix as she articulately puffed the rim of her mouth into a wet suction-happy spout, and even dexterously invited Tommy’s dick into the burrito tube of her wrapped-in tongue, loving every sensation from the stimulated pulses so palpably thrumming his genitals like another heartbeat, to the teasing fun of his precious manhood stickily grinding across the uneven squish-garden of her taste buds. Once Joanne had lapped and imbibed her boy’s hapless stick back to life in record time, she expelled his springy hardness from her pouted mouth again with the most unnecessarily elongated tongue-compressing gesture, extending a last lick that turned into pinning his junk down against his stomach by that slobbery musculature alone.

All that while, it was Tommy’s humiliation-riddled turn to become a dopey eye-rolling pile of sexed-up putty. Despite the roughness of his mother’s technique, not to mention the overwhelming suckled-in pressure exerted on his most sensitive region, and the soreness left in the wake of her work, it of course wasn’t a biological coincidence that he’d stiffened to attention again, right when he needed his own body’s moral support in the form of a sleeping prick to help make his sobbing appeals sound real enough to convince Joanne. Because it had become plain to him, after so many months of relationship-devolving depravity, that the pear-bummed giantess was absolutely not moved to empathy, no matter how many tears he shed and how many times he croaked her name in hopes of staving off his next viciously wounding stab up her giant hairy monstrously-horny snatch. Not so long as his other organs kept betraying him like this. And, God, did she ever know how to switch him right back on at the worst of times.

“See? What’d I tell you? Always straight for the drama, when the REAL you is tellin’ me everything I need to know! And what I need to know is that Mommy’s big man and that big man dick on him are loving this just as much as Mommy is. You were just bein’ a sour puss all along,” Joanne taunted. Holding full eye contact with her boy, she flexed her tongue several times around her lips again like the plump hand of a clock, enjoying the leftover spice of her own gummed-on juices borrowed from Tommy’s body after sucking it all clean off his shaft, and found herself even further titillated by that sultry little circle-of-life transference. “Well, sugar-pie, take it from me. You catch a lot more bees with honey than vinegar, and you’re MUCH better off bein’ a sweet puss than a sour one. After the fun we just had, you should know that even better than I do! Because it doesn’t get any sweeter than this.”

Galvanized into another head-spinning erotic fervor by this reminder of what she could only interpret as her desperately-fuckable eight-inch-tall man’s purest desire for her, Joanne took a deep breath, mopped the sweat from her brow, then scooted her dump truck derriere to the edge of the bed, while still keeping the re-hardened Tommy firmly in her grasp. From her dresser drawer, she triumphantly retrieved that handy-dandy upright latex-looped contraption provided to her boy by Roberta. After popping the suction cup base down atop the furniture to keep it steady while loading up its passenger, the giantess slid her son’s weakened arms through those rubberized shackles adorning the spine-flattening rod structure, and his feet into the base. Tommy was still too spent from that last round to even wriggle in resistance while he was imprisoned back in the sex toy’s restraints like old-timey stocks for a public shaming, and understood too well already that he’d only earn himself fouler consequences for at all impeding his mother’s one-track mind. Naturally, though, Joanne took his fragile compliance now as even further proof that she’d already sucked all the fight out of him, and so couldn’t have been more thrilled or lustfully motivated to get this show on the road.

Unsticking the suction cup from her dresser with a satisfying pop that shook Tommy’s body – though the boy was already pre-emptively flinching and retching on his own as a well-learned reflex for what awaited him – she proudly marched over to that wooden bench at the foot of her bed. This humble wooden platform had served as the site of so many tragic memory-scarring episodes for the shrunken toyified rape-monkey in her fist, and it seemed she was about to add another to her boy’s fractured mind and living museum of sexual injuries. Joanne slapped the cup down hard on the bench’s surface, smirking as the rod pressed to Tommy’s back wobbled for a moment before coming to rest, with its tip and her child’s head aimed for the ceiling. In a twist from their normal routine, however, especially since this was still a special homecoming occasion, she wasn’t content to leave the bench where it was, but grabbed the edge and dragged it across the room to spot directly in front of her recently-polished full-length standing mirror, where there would be no chance of her missing a second of this reunion. Why should only he get to witness the action, she wondered? Without delay, Joanne straddled the bench in a sumo-like squat posture, using the mirror and her own eyeballed estimation to perfectly align herself above the temptingly erect target of Tommy’s strapped-in shape. She lacked the patience now for any additional coy come-hither commentary, only winking at her terrified pallidly-distressed son in the mirror before dropping her hindquarters toward the bench and plunging her ungracefully spread labial void straight down upon her favorite little-big man.

Because Joanne had to hunker and maneuver her pussy into place overhead of her bench-suctioned son this time, rather than having the freedom to manipulate him inside at her precise chosen angle by hand like a magic wand, there was some fashionable hip-shimmying and tautly-clenched kegel exercise required to force him completely back into the slavering vaginal slot from whence he’d come. Still, it was no more than a split-second’s concern. Once again, Tommy was made to leave the charging expedition head-first past the curly cum-matted underbrush of his mother’s dark whiskered vulva, with loose pubes tingling and itching against his exposed skin all the way down. The distended labial-smacking shlooooop which punctuated the boy’s recurrent swallowing into the giantess’s beastly loins was, per usual, marked by another of Joanne’s famously telltale deep-belly grunts that then clumsily transformed into a sickeningly grateful moan, the deeper she squatted her verticalized boy into that fabulously-drippy overly-constricted nether palace of hers.

“Such a BIG boy, aren’t you? Oh, YES! That’s the ticket. So… big. So thick. So perfect. Mommy’s big MAN, right back where he belongs…” she engrossingly wheezed throughout. Joanne felt out the path of that first descent slowly by her usually-emergent erotic standards, drooping her bountiful undercarriage until the wooden bench griped from this upsurge in burden, and only the outer rim of Tommy’s suction-cupped prop was still visible beneath the burly cellulite swell of his titanic mother’s thighs. It only required one satisfying more-conscientious plop-down for her to adjust, however, and the maternal giantess had hardly ascended back to the apex of her broad-hipped squat again before she was staking her boy back inside, then sliding up and down, over and over, first at a controlled rate to make sure she savored every sensory blessing of each launch up her carpet-swamped cooch.

But she soon graduated her approach to a truly brutish glute-clapping nectar-spritzing pace. Joanne flung herself so wholeheartedly into fucking the stuck-down pole of the eight-incher’s rod-assisted body that it might’ve bizarrely appeared like she was attempting to treat the bench like a pogo stick, all but bunny-hopping in her haste to keep feeding then re-extracting most of Tommy’s frame from that engorged slot, and moan-warbling with every sensuously ragged exhale. Though per usual, she never quite let all of him exit that hot oily-lubricated hole, ensuring she at least had his crown rather-accurately simulating a bulbed cockhead and wedged against the soggy-pithed tunnel walls at all times. Once Joanne really had the hang of riding her enlarged mini-son atop their favorite bench, she began introducing her usual exploratory creativity, sometimes rocking herself along mid-piston at sharper angles that either pitched her toward the mirror so far forward that her bulgy airbag bosom dangled inches from the furniture’s edge, or as deeply back as she could tilt without risking a roly-poly spill that would’ve quaked the whole room. This variety only encouraged her to hunch faster and harder in the rapid escalation toward another finish. Joanne gazed yearningly back at her own glorious mirror reflection the whole way through, with her frizzy locks whipping like a wild-woman’s, glamorous sweat striping her chest as it trickled down, and motherly surplus flesh jiggling all across the brawny yet plush monument of her six-foot-five enormity. And what a sight she made.

With two minutes’ worth of maximum restraint left in her before all heaven broke loose again, Joanne turned herself around over the bench, complete with a hokey-pokey twerk to keep her rhythm flowing, and put her back to the mirror. Next planting both hands over her knees to aid in her savagely heave-ho squatting momentum, she proceeded to give Tommy everything she had, continuously soaring and sliding up that living looped-in full-body cock she loved so dearly at top speed and in such a gluttonous pussy-plugging frenzy that the boy’s suctioned mount was soon only clinging to the bench surface by the absolute lip of the rubbery cup. Yet the bond held miraculously firm, as did Joanne’s sloshing clamping hellfire-warm cunt around all eight wonderful inches of her remade man. Tommy himself was squashed inside her chute to such a singularity of nauseous fluid-asphyxiating bone-bending tension that he lacked the moment-to-moment consciousness now to even distinguish whether the giantess was either driving back down upon him or hoisting herself back up, or really where he was at all. Though the dehumanized boy-toy understandably took sharper notice of the present again, when – at the victorious summit of yet another disastrous pleasure-spraying orgasm for Joanne – her most special place squeezed him so hard that a rib snapped with the ease of a dry leaf stem.

An involuntary squawk of skeletally-contorted misery ripped its way from Tommy’s throat with almost-exactly the same pitch as a sat-upon rubber chicken, though even if this cry had been especially audible while so deeply entrenched in that heavily-clamped vaginal embankment, the steaming waterfall’s bounty of parental cum that came gushing down around him and into his throat soon gooily put an end to this noise. Meanwhile, reinvigorated like she hadn’t felt in months, the incestuous fat-bootied cougar-queen herself let out a ravished moan fit to blow the roof clean off the house, as she allowed the full complement of vivaciously pulsating endorphin-overdosing sensations to course through her nerves for all they were worth. This reunion was a long time coming, in more ways than one, and if this morning’s inspired sexual plundering with her son’s new-and-improved form was any indication of their future, every lonesome desire-building minute he’d spent out of her custody with Roberta was made absolutely worth it by the payoff now. Hell, for a finish this good, she would’ve happily waited an entire year. The fracturing of her tortured offspring’s ribcage turned out to be well-timed for Joanne, much like everything else the adorable pang-filled little wiggler done in response to her gruesomely self-centered lovemaking style. Tommy’s ardent post-breakage jittering inside her cooch throughout the afterglow process made for the perfect metaphoric cherry on top of this orgasmic multi-layered sensual sundae, keeping his mother every bit as riled and awash with sanity-threatening eroticism until the final crashing throes of passion had at last smoothed back to normalcy.

“Such a goooood Mama’s boy, aren’t ya? A nice, big, thick, REAL man to give me all the hard lovin’ I’ve been missing out on. God, Mommy missed you so BAD, but ugh, it was so WORTH the wait!” Joanne crooned, once she’d lurched herself slowly up and off the waggly lashed-in mount of her living plaything. Her fingers twirled through and cleared away the many lengthy cum strands still strung between his body and her labia, the liquid clinging like slobber from a bulldog’s jowls, then affectionately smudged her thumb against Tommy’s face to both clean off some of the excess gunk and also watch him squirm even worse in his figure-straightening binds. “You just need some more rest, sweet-pea. A nice little pick-me-up before we get you rarin’ to go again. That’ll really hit the spot, don’t ya think?”

All the while, the eight-inch lad kept on irregularly jerking and sputtering in half-choked rib grief as though he’d been outright stabbed in his side, rather than simply rammed up that gaping gloppy hellhole of his mother’s cavernous and yet comparatively-tighter pussy. Considering the options, he might’ve preferred the quicker and cleaner single-thrust pain of taking a knife to the gut, rather than the day – and entire grim future – of this literal motherfucking alternative which awaited him. Joanne wasn’t the least bit bothered by her lover’s aggravated flinching, however, grinning and humming a seductive tune under her raspy breath while liberating each of his limbs in turn from the suctioned post, even jauntily shaking her hefty hips to the beat, until finally she took his gooey bruised hyperventilating body into hands again.

Indeed, even though it was still morning, and the giantess had technically just recently awoken, the absolute exertion required to achieve these newly-charted heights of mind-reeling pleasure – though it was worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears cost – had thoroughly winded the woman, with the after-climax aphrodisia acting as a kind of warm lullaby to her system, making her long for just a little more shut-eye. Tommy, too, might have felt just as ready to sleep again, since he’d had so little of it while nightmarishly anticipating the morning rape-fest test drive of his grown-up stature, but the excruciation of his freshest wounds would likely make it tough to settle in. Nevertheless, as with all things in life that her son was hesitant about, Joanne was more than willing to make him try it anyway.

“I’m serious about this, baby. We’ll get you good and rested up, and then you’ll feel like a million bucks. I sure do feel that way already, and it’s only right that we get my main man feelin’ that way too,” she insisted while clambering luxuriously back onto the sweat-and-cum-dampened bedsheets. Once Joanne had reclaimed her roost, gathering the pillows and blankets into a nest, she used her free hand to ply apart the blubbery-jiggling masses of her freckly jugs and then stowed Tommy feet-first back into his assigned bunk of her slick tautly-embraced cleavage. The muggy swollen girth of her breast flesh ruthlessly puffed in on him from other side once she let go, feeling twice as restrictive to him as those suction-stand bindings – though luckily still nowhere near as punishing as the maximum constriction in her cunt. Happier than ever, which was coincidentally the diametric opposite of her re-broken child’s current gloaming mood, Joanne pulled the sheets up close around her exhausted, naked, gratification-glowing silhouette and cozied in for a well-earned midmorning nap. Just before nodding off, though, she dipped her chin down to the bloated valley of her bosom and positioned her giggling pucked-up mouth close enough against the back of a wildly-traumatized Tommy’s head that she could’ve simply slurped it between her lips, only then whispering with such haunting resonance that the shrinker felt like she was pouring the words directly into his skull:

“My record is seven in a day, you know. Yes, honey-pot, you heard that right. But I’ll tell ya something else. It’s still not enough for me. What do you say we try to beat that number soon? Together?”

Further relaxed by the worsened shivers in her son which resulted from that teasing admission, Joanne hugged her forearms against either robust flank of outer side-boob, in turn compressing Tommy even closer at the epicenter slit. Then she let out a final rumbling chest-quaking curl of laughter which transformed midstream into a droning locomotive-horn snore, and the giantess descended into slumber.


###


“Is… it… o-over yet? P-Please… M-Mommy, I… need… a… break!” a bloodshot-eyed Tommy hoarsely squeaked in between cancerous coughs, acting with the badly-deserved exhaustion of a person who’d just been put through three separate maternal finales in one mostly-conscious nighttime session. He’d been eight inches tall for a full month now, but every new day still stung and terrified him as though it was the very first time, since there seemed to be an unending myriad of ways for Joanne to make better use of her upward-evolved dick-man. This loathsome evening, he just so happened to find himself strapped back into that defenseless suction-based holster of what had become a favorite device for his mother to incorporate into their games. Only the thing was horizontally installed against the bedframe surface on this occasion, and Tommy looked like he’d just been pounded senseless by a heavyweight prizefighter before being dropped naked into a gigantic sloppy dunk tank of pube-speckled female ejaculate. As the third of these Joanne-branded climaxes was just claimed upon him in the last few seconds with all the subtlety of an IED going off in his close periphery, the boy’s flat-suspended body was still actively dripping from the latest washed-out crotch tide of ecstatic juices.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean, baby. That sure was a GOOD one, huh? Really took it out of us both. And Mommy could use some relief, too,” Joanne gasped on all fours with her rump facing the stuck-out cock of her son’s body, still recollecting herself from that explosive triple orgasm. She made a show of wobbling her hips back and forth as if for a taunting dance, seismically upsetting the tubby rotundness of her immense bum cheeks and coming within an inch each shimmy of bashing Tommy’s face against the plump terrain of those hindquarters. Wiping her brow and still delighting in the satiation of that last headboard-smacking round, though, Joanne realized a quick breather wasn’t quite going to cut it for healing the increasing blockage she was feeling inside. Clutching her palm over her stomach and hearing a distressed gurgle from within, she gruffly exhaled, realizing just how constipated she was. Fortunately, though, Tommy’s stuttered wailing about a break, and the convenient proximity of his probe-like form right behind her dumpster, provided the perfect inspiration for her. “Yes, now there’s a good idea. Thanks so much for that one, plum-pudding. Mommy could DEFINITELY use some help gettin’ loosened back up, if you know what I mean. You’re already lubed up so nice and slippery, and all. Won’t take more than a minute. Or two. Depends how much wrigglin’ around you do to get this train rolling again.”

Though Tommy had a sinking feeling of what Joanne was hinting at, it became impossible to stay in denial once she’d arched back onto her knees and then used both hands to squeeze up dense palmfuls of pale elephantine ass flesh in order to spread those lunar cheek halves as far apart as she could wedge them. The boy’s earlier pleading whimpers ascended right into breathless high-pitched shrieks as the titaness’s frighteningly relaxed asshole spigot was suddenly bearing directly toward his head. At the very least, Joanne had the common courtesy not to plow him straight inside without so much as a few twists to ease him in, but instead pressed that loose balloon-knotted port of dank anal skin against the little guy’s scalp, and began to massage by way of a slowly inward-swallowing greeting. A few fine yet pesky anal hairs dotting the horrific rim of the woman’s hole itched and tickled at Tommy’s wretched countenance as it spiraled ever-closer to being consumed through her sphincter, which was a sensation he of course hated, but still would have happily put up with for an entire hair-scrubbing hour, if only it prevented a few minutes of the more-literal-than-usual plumbing job to come.

Following some dedicated squinching and dexterous hip-shaking effort to introduce Tommy back into the needy sinkhole of her anus, Joanne felt the cherry-like mass of her son’s head pop inside past the fleshy barrier. To her sighing relief, and the boy’s nauseating detriment, such an abrupt shift in her gluteal musculature caused a steamy fast-spewed emission of eggy flatulence to come jettisoning down the woman’s backside orifice barrel with a muted “bbblaaappp,” directly into her prisoner’s face. Tommy would’ve had an easier time breathing if he'd stuck his head directly into an industrial chimney and waited for the next plume of jet-black exhaust to spout through. This was only the briefest uncontrolled release, of course, especially by Joanne’s usual potential standards, but considering where her unclogging tool’s head was positioned, it just might have been the most fragrant and hotly-thickened dosage of his mother’s gas he’d ever had the misfortune to taste, breathe, and suffer up-close.

“Oh, Mommy’s sorry, sugar-bean. You’ve been workin’ SO hard, and your break is comin’ up soon. But first, I need you to keep on doing exactly what you’re doing in there right now,” Joanne moaned with halfhearted remorse, as her son helpfully jolted his head about in the confines of her anal cavity like a vibrator turned up to at least medium-strength buzzing capacity. As he was only neck-deep in her asshole now, Tommy could still hear this upsetting information relayed, albeit diluted by noise-cancelling cellulite, just before his parent continued wrenching him further within. Even after her hole had comfortably accepted the eight-incher’s head, his shoulder width required a little more corkscrewing, but as always, Joanne made it work, flaring her rectum and pouting her mountainous ass cheeks toward the headboard until she’d lodged her dildo-substitute boy inside her worst opening, practically down to his chest. She’d begun to murmur already from the forceful stimulation she received just via the act of keying Tommy’s head up her roasty firm-rimmed fart-perfumed backdoor, but now with that added inch-plus of him stored within that constipation-afflicted thoroughfare, she could more-freely commence fucking the uncomfortable ache right out of herself.

With her anal tunnel walls stretched even wider now, every pump Joanne committed from her son’s head and shoulders resulted in the spurting forth of another minor gas rupture from deeper up the chute. Though thankfully not every one of these pre-emptive cheese-cut breezes was packed with sphincter-oiled flavor, as some of them hit his smell centers more like an airy belch, it was inevitable that Tommy also had to tank a few samples from the distantly-weak yet still undeniable stink-punch odor of motherly sewage. If the boy wasn’t gagging already just from the act of being driven face-first into the giantess’s asshole, these rapid billowing flatulence teases, even lightly tainted with skid-marking flavor, made him begin to wet-heave like a sick dog. There was no alleviating that feverish un-plunged pestilence musk, though, no matter how desperately he tried to hold his breath or expel the disgust through withering retches, not when he was so close to the source of that foulness that he could’ve almost licked the gaseous essence off the fleshy surfaces enclosed around him.

Outside, however, Joanne was feeling better already, and knew that with just a little more push on each of their parts, both her sexual and bowel-related comforts would increase tenfold. White-knuckling the bedsheets as she jammed her enormous sweat-streaked derriere again and again over that wonderful son-shaped probe, the giantess moaned and hooted and gorilla-grunted her way to messy victory once again, spraying yet-more orgasmic precipitation across her thighs and the mattress below, right at the height of thrusting her handsome thick perfectly-quivery all-purpose slave as deeply into her tight toot-slinging asshole as she’d yet dared to launch him. Satisfied for the fourth time tonight, and in more ways than one, she crawled gradually forward, mid-climactic panting, to excavate Tommy from her anus. After taking a few tantalizing moments to catch her breath and savor that quadruple finish, which was every bit as salacious as the first, second, and third, Joanne’s eyes lit up and her lips widened to a pleasantly-surprised grin. It actually worked. She was back in business, or rather ready to do her business. And what’s more, such an efficiently rigorous method of colon-soothing technique had ensured that there wasn’t much time to waste. Unlooping her shackled-in offspring from that horizontal faux-cock post, she dismounted from the bed and hastily marched off for the adjoining restroom.

Not skipping a beat, the naked monolithic six-foot-five colossus swung herself around and planted down so hard on the toilet seat that the porcelain groaned almost as provocatively as her insides, while still cradling a battered half-awake cum-bathed Tommy in her fist. Though the boy was briefly grateful to escape his prior sulfurous claustrophobic head-bottled anal prison, once he realized where they were headed, and the kind of show he was about to experience from a frow-row seat, his powerless revulsion-drenched dread came roaring right back. Joanne met her boy’s gaze as she rested the back of her hand across her flabby quad, but when she opened her lips, it was only to release a prolonged effort-flooded grumble as if getting ready to hoist a bar across her shoulders like a bodybuilder. With eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted, she gripped Tommy so stiffly that the impressions of her huge fingers began to pale his dark-bruised skin in the way of an improperly-lotion sunburn. The eight-incher certainly squealed even worse than if his skin had been cooked raw-red by solar rays, as his body was used as an impromptu stress ball to help Joanne through this long-overdue unburdening process above the pool. Her grimaced deep-register complaints were soon joined in gnarly symphony by the most horrific wet-thunking percussion below. And while Tommy was spared from directly witnessing his mother’s toxic digestive artifacts being pinched from the same hole he’d so recently occupied to her orgasmic unblocking relief, and then dropped into the water, the descriptive noise and horrendous odor fogging the bathroom was more than enough to paint a crystal-clear picture in his mind, and nauseate parts of himself he didn’t even realize could feel sickness.

“Ohhhhh, yeeeeeah! That… is… SO much better!” Joanne wheezed with satisfaction, no longer constipated and feeling better than ever. Fresh rivulets of sweat were descending the curves of her spacious rack and spare-tire love handles after she’d put almost the same effort into taking that dump as she had while fucking her shrunken son from every which way. Upon getting ahold of herself again, Joanne seemed to realize for the first time she was still clamping Tommy so barbarously in her hand that she was probably one slightly-stronger squeeze away from creating permanent finger-depressions in his sides, as though molded into clay. Cooing apologetically, she at last loosened her hold on him and then set the rib-crunched near-asphyxiated lad down upon the narrow span of toilet seat real estate still available between her doughily spread thigh masses. “Sorry to keep you waitin’. You’ve got needs, just like Mommy. Well, go ahead and get it out. And, gosh, sweetie, I just can’t TELL you how much I love ya for helpin’ me out back there. I needed it bad. And we’re talkin’ bad. A real traffic jam, if you know what I’m sayin’. But it’s all better now. I really can count on my man to take care of EVERYTHING, can’t I? Thank you sooooo much!”

Tired, injured, and near-delirious as he was feeling right now to such an extreme that he could barely keep standing upright, Tommy had to passively admit his mother was correct. It had been a while since he’d gone. Before he could will his systems into defensively unclenching, though, he was beaten to the punch by the uncomfortably-near pubic-curtained mound of his giant mother’s crotch gently bracing and then cascading a largely-uncontrolled golden stream down into the ruinous warzone of the commode pond below. Joanne’s piss output only gained strength as she voided her bladder with almost as much sighing respite as she’d emptied certain other openings, spraying a continuous firehose blast of whiffy urine out from her hair-curtained vag. Especially as her jet-streamed fluid evacuation unsettled the unspeakable buildup already pooled in the soiled waters beneath them, and by the sound of it there were still a few pesky objects from her plush backside left to ominously plip-plop-splat out toward the drain, Tommy found it more than a little difficult to take a whiz himself. Nonetheless, knowing it might be a while again yet before he had the opportunity to alleviate basically the one bodily need he was still allowed to handle alone, the eight-incher forced himself to follow his mother’s example.

When they were both finished, Joanne burned through close to half a roll of toilet paper wiping down her entire undercarriage – though Tommy still had a sneaking suspicion there would be some hint of this lavatory carnage present for a while after, if only in the form of a riper bouquet or particularly fetid streaks of anal sweat. After flushing everything down in a single load that fortunately didn’t overflow, despite the odds, the much-happier bold-and-bountiful giantess heaved herself fully off the toilet seat, its surface moist now with the steamed-in memory of her tush, and stood before the sink to get them both cleaned up. This happened to be one of those rare occasions where a supposed-break for Tommy didn’t secretly involve a consequence almost as dire as his last unwilling sexual escapade into one of his parent’s holes, and Joanne showed a fleeting glimpse of actual maternal nurturing by thoroughly rinsing, soaping up, and massaging her son’s vaginal filth-encrusted figure through the suds and warm sink water. Despite his better judgment, and the knowledge of what these very same gigantic hands currently bathing him would later do to humiliate, violate, and break him down in every manner conceivable, the shrinker allowed himself to enjoy the therapeutic benefits of – even for a brief time – feeling clean, safe, relatively-unharmed, and not wearing a semi-dried skinsuit made of his own mom’s pussy dribblings.

“Someone’s been SUCH a good boy for Mommy lately, and such a sexy big man for her too, hasn’t he, baby?” Joanne slurred while washing and fondling her most prized possession through the soapy depths. “That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it? Well, this is only a tiny fraction of how amazing you’ve been makin’ me feel. So it seems like the least Mommy can do, huh?”
With her eight-inch spawn cleansed and refreshed, or as much as possible considering his many compacted layers of mind-breaking trauma and probably-unhealed internal wounds, Joanne returned to the bedroom. Tommy thought she might slip him straight back into the suction-bottomed toy husk before finding another creative location to prop him, which would inevitably be followed by greasily undoing the wash she’d just gifted him. But instead Joanne only settled back under the bed covers, got tucked in, and absolutely beamed ear-to-ear with saccharine motherly pride as she gazed upon her greatest deeply-beloved creation splayed across both hands.

“Mommy’s never felt so close to you, baby. Did you know that? Can you feel it, too? How… strong… our connection is now?” the woman amorously pontificated out of the blue, sounding as if she was partially lost in a stickily-romantic dream. “It’s like we’re all knotted up together all snug, just like we were before I brought you into this world. Only… better than that ever was. We’re the same. You’re a part of Mommy. Aren’t you?”

Realizing she expected an answer, Tommy stammered out the most-convincing ‘yes’ he could, which still came out entirely dubious. He’d had to become very talented at lying in order to avoid firing up his mother’s temper, but there were certain things too abominable for him to speak aloud without a troubled croak infecting his voice, despite his best try. Joanne seemed to notice his hesitation, knowingly smirking as she shook her head, but thankfully didn’t burst into a fit of scorned-lover frustration.

“That’s sweet of you, baby. Not wantin’ to hurt Mommy’s feelings. I’m tough, though. I can take the truth. And I want you to know it’s perfectly all right to not feel the same way yet. You can’t rush those kinds of feelings, you know. Can’t force ‘em. But you’ll get there soon. See, good Mommies just have this special power, to see what’s best for their children, and know what they want, and what they need, a long time before their little ones ever do themselves. And the closer they are, the better they can tell. You’ll come around, though. You’ll see,” Joanne replied, generously forgiving of her son’s emotional shortcomings, before her words devolved into a slobbery lip-popping make-out with her eight-inch little-big man’s whole head. By this point in the day, and his shrunken life at large, Tommy was too weathered and beaten-down to even marginally resist having his face kissably sucked upon until the giantess paused to continue her loving sermon: “A Mommy might know best, and I’m always goin’ to be your Mommy, sweet-cake, but what makes this even more special… and what makes us really meant to be… is that I’m your lover, too. And you’re mine. Which means I know even better than the best. For example, baby, a good relationship thrives on routines that bring you closer. Just like this. When it’s gettin’ dark and sleepy out, and Mommy shows her lover just how MUCH lovin’ she’s got to give.”

Slipping in heavier drool-coating flesh-suctioning smooches between these heartfelt declarations, Joanne had begun to work her way down from Tommy’s face, along his chest and abdomen, and necessarily arrived back at his groin, which she faithfully carried on blowing until his abused member began to stiffen back to a salute, as it always did.

“It’s just you and me, big man. All we’ve got to worry about from now on is takin’ care of each other, and bein’ everything a Mommy and her son, and a couple of perfect lovers can be. Oh, just think of all the places we can go, the things we’ll see and do together. You know, as much as Mommy loves a good lay from you, sweetie, it’s not ALL about that. There’s goin’ to be some real ROMANCE in there, too. Nice and sappy. So you know it’s the real thing.” Joanne, artfully speaking this message in between full-mouthed pulses around her offspring’s mini-erection, brought his spasming frame to completion in record time, licked away the evidence, then almost immediately wadded him back into what had become his primary nighttime residence in the form of her mammary gulch. Tommy didn’t have the strength to fight this, either. “Don’t worry too much yet about thinkin’ up all the ways you’re going to be Mommy’s favorite little romantic, though. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, ya know. A lifetime, and hell, maybe even longer than that. That’s how much of a believer in true love you’ve made me. Now, get cozy for Mommy. It’s been a long one. A good one, but a long one. And I want you having nothin’ but sweet dreams tonight, my sweet-sweet baby boy.”