On a warm, sunny, August day, a late teen girl was reclining on a
park bench, licking an ice cream cone with repeated, long, smooth
strokes. This young woman was wearing a yellow tank-top, short hot
pants, and tightly-wound shoes, and she was in utter bliss. Her
reddish hair hung in curly bunches around her head, the product of
many hours at the salon recently. Her name was Johanna, and she
looked like she was having the utter time of her life.
Her arm was sprawled around another woman who was noticeably older,
though no less attractive. This woman was Johanna’s mother. It was
clear her daughter received her auburn hair from her, though no the
older woman’s striking amber eyes. Perhaps unexpectedly, this
mature lady was the more flippantly-garbed of the two; the woman
was wearing merely a bra, a skirt, and high heels. And she was
visibly, extremely uncomfortable. She too held an ice cream cone, but
she did not feel the urge to eat any of it. Or eat anything at all.
Her name was Susan.
Passers by glared at the pair strangely. It was no strange sight to
see a mother and daughter enjoying a day out in the city sharing some
ice cream together, but the image did raise a few eyebrows. Chief
amongst them was the presumed mother’s risqué choice of outerwear.
The second oddity was Susan’s jumpiness.
As a joke, Johanna decided to lightly, ever so lightly, drag her
fingertips across the nape of her mother’s neck.
“Gasp!” The woman
twitched, a dollop of ice cream falling on her bare belly as she
realized her daughter had simply scratched the back of her neck.
Johanna snickered, side-eyeing her mother who chagrined, taking a bit
of time to lean tentatively back into the bench and her daughter’s
arm.
The heat was bearing down like a red-hot hammer, and sweat sheened
off both women’s backs. The mother curled up, hoisting her feet to
the edge of the bench, wrapping her arms around her knees. It was a
hot pose to be in, but Susan’s discomfort at this exposure was
almost palpable. This pose was familiar to her, and most importantly,
it felt safe. There were few pedestrians to take notice, but those
who did eyes Johanna with such a detached strangeness, bordering on
suspicion.
“Hm? What is it?”
Her daughter spoke. Susan jumped again, feeling the warm, gentle
touch of her daughter drag along the back of her neck, petting her
like a stray cat. Susan shook her head, refusing to say anything that
was more than a muttered mumble.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Another light pet from
Johanna. It gave Susan chills, goosebumps that were exacerbated as
Johanna nuzzled closer, her ear practically planted against Susan’s
mouth, cheek inches away from her collarbone.
“N… nothing…” Susan relented.
“That’s right…” Johanna continued to pet her mother’s neck,
grabbing a sprig of hair and twisting it between her fingers. She
planted a kiss on her mother’s nose, playfully biting the tip.
“You’re mine, aren’t you? You don’t have anything to complain
about.”
Johanna’s fingers traveled down her mother’s back, finding
themselves beneath the strap holding her mother’s bra together. Her
fingers fiddled with the clasp as Susan’s breath quickened.
“J-Johanna, please…” she whispered through grit teeth,
side-eyeing the family of walkers that was about to pass. “Not now…
please.”
“Relax… I’m not going to do anything… yet.”
Susan closed her eyes, tears flooding them as the reminder of her own
powerlessness came through her teenage daughter’s bratty lips.
Then, the bra came off. Johanna’s fiddling succeeded.
“Oops…!” Johanna whispered and winked before jumping off her
seat, screeching, “OMG, MOM?! How
indecent!”
Her performance could’ve won a
Golden Globe, her yells caught the attention of those arriving and
those who had already passed by as they all feasted their eyes on
Susan’s mightily developed chest, spilling out as her bra cups fell
into her lap. The woman yelped herself, lunging for the bra before it
was caught by an especially strong and errant breeze. Already, the
pedestrians were gasping, murmuring, gossiping, as Susan was forced
to hold her own breasts by her hands, covering them up in the face of
public humiliation.
“How obscene!”
“No, don’t look at her, Ronald.
Shield your eyes!”
“I fear for this country if this
is the example mothers set for their daughters these days.”
Susan looked around as the strangers sneered, judging her, and she
became almost as red as her own hair. Susan wanted to open her mouth,
say anything, but one glare from her daughter put her in her place,
forcing the adult woman’s mouth shut. Susan’s inner burning and
mortification made her want to run, to hide, to do anything, even as
she waited for Johanna to potentially grab her bra, caught in a
bundle of bushes. But she simply stood back, smiling as several of
these strangers angrily announced they would grab a police officer to
arrest her for public indecency.
Eventually, Susan’s unintentional flaunting had driven off all the
common folk. This left just Johanna, peering from just out of the
public consciousness at her mother, lonely on the bench.
She took a few steps toward the Susan, sitting down next to her and
wrapping her arms around her once again.
“Not so fun, is it?” asked
Johanna.
Then… Susan disappeared.
Johanna glanced furtively, ensuring that no prying eyes were
watching. Out in the public park, the chances nobody saw were nil.
But at the very least, there was nobody within her line of sight, and
anybody paying good enough attention to see the disappearance of the
older woman was far away enough for the visage to have seemed like a
mirage, an addled hallucination.
But it was no hallucination. Johanna uncupped her hands. She took
note of the tiny figure inside, gasping for air, on her knees within
the massive logs that were Johanna’s fingers.
“Awwww… I can never get over get
over how cute you look like this...~”
“J-Johanna!” screamed Susan.
“You, what are you, why are
you --”
Johanna heard voices. Law enforcement voices.
“Whoops!” Johanna cheered,
plopping her mother straight down into the divide between her
breasts.
The trip was quick, her plentiful
boobs slicked by midday sweat. However when Susan reached the
terminal point of her trip into her daughter’s tits, all she could
even think about was trying to get another breath of clean air into
her lungs. But that was impossible. Above her was flesh. Below her
was flesh, tight enough she could not fall deeper, lest she wanted to
truly suffocate between her daughter’s enormous mounds. Johanna’s
deodorized scent had been all but completely counteracted by the
midday heat, and as Susan tried in vain to establish some sense of
stability, some sense of orientation, she was continuously, endlessly
rammed with a steady stream of replenishing and replenishing
sweat, barreling into her mouth
that she was forced to either spit out or swallow.
“Goodness, you’re making quite
the ruckus in there…!” Johanna whispered before suddenly standing
up, turning to face a pair of individuals who had just sauntered up
to the park bench. One was an indignant woman in a pixie cut, and she
had in tow a man in a navy blue police uniform. “Good afternoon,
officer! Anything I can do for you this fine day?”
The woman in front put her hands on
her hips. “You know quite well
what you can do! Tell us where that hag you
were sitting with, flaunting her breasts so belligerently! I cannot
believe what it is some adults feel is right to teach the children!
Why in fact --”
The policeman held up a hand,
silencing the pixie woman. He sighed, bored. “I was informed there
was a public disturbance here? And it seems you may know where to
find the source?”
“Hmm… a disturbance?”
Johanna put one hand to her chest, kneading it, framing it as a
nervous tic, sure she was sending her mother through hell. “I can’t
say I rightly know what it is you could be talking about.”
“Of course you do, she was right
next to you! I don’t know your relationship but I think I know damn
well that you would’ve at least seen where she went!” The woman
huffed.
“A… a relationship?” Johanna
put her free finger to her mouth, looking whimsically to the sky as
if in thought. “I wonder… could we be in a relationship? Do you
think if I find that woman… we can be in a relationship…
together?”
The police officer curled his expression. “So I’m to assume you
don’t know where this woman went?”
Johanna shrugged, letting her breasts flop from their slight
elevation, jiggling.
The woman rolled her eyes. The officer shook his head, and he said,
“Well, if either of you see any disturbances, I’m here every day.
No matter how much I don’t want to be.” And he turned around,
returning from whence he came. Both Johanna and the woman watched him
go before the woman turned again to Johanna, giving her a superior,
snide glare, and she departed herself.
Johanna rolled her own eyes, mimicking the woman’s look and
sticking her tongue out. Then she crossed her arms, tensing up her
breasts as she stared down at them. “See? I told you I knew what I
was doing! Now… as for growing you back… that’d be a bit too
conspicuous.”
Susan could only barely hear the muffled ruminations of her daughter,
masked by her pounding heartbeat, the rushing blood in her veins, the
sweat that was clogging every pore in Susan’s body including her
ears.
“Which means it looks like you
won’t have to be doing any walking at all! I can carry you all
the way home! All four miles! No
need to thank me,” said Johanna smugly as she flipped her hair and
began the long trek back to the house.
Each step brought a new cycle of discomfort to Susan, being forced
upward, brought down, bounced, and settling into a stable position
before Johanna took yet another step, and it continued on and on and
on. Between the imposing boob-flesh, the constant trickle of
perspiration, the discomfort and being jostled around like a pill in
a bottle, Susan was forced to do anything, occupy her mind with
anything at all possible to keep herself from losing it. Think of
things. Think of the times before her relationship between her and
her daughter had become this utterly demented, tarnished, occult
facsimile of anything even approaching a healthy relationship. And to
think… it only began scarcely two months ago.
Susan began to whimper, each sob and tear-streaked sniffle
disappearing in the grunting and shrieks and slides and BA-bumps of
this alien environment that had grown to encompass her entire life.