Shining sun, perfect temperature, and just enough of a breeze to dispel any air in danger of stagnation: in short, it was a beautiful day. Children played, couples roamed the parks, and even those people at work on the weekend were glad for the delightful weather during their commute. It seemed that everyone in the world was enjoying the day. Everyone, that is, except Jacob.
His day had started dark, and had remained so for hours. For reasons he didn't know, he'd woken up unable to reach his light switch, or the floor, or really anything. He'd spent the entire morning- what was left after he awoke, anyway- using his sheets to descend from his mattress and onto the floor. Then, after a fifteen-minute mental breakdown, he began his trek to find help.
Fortunate for the predicament, he'd found it financially necessary to still be living with his parents. Fortunate still, their room was across from his. He didn't even need to squeeze under the doors; his size allowed him to simply walk beneath the half-inch gaps as easily as walking into a mall. However, the immensity of the room within was more akin to a stadium.
He barely recognized the place. The lights were off, but this room received enough natural light for him to see that the furniture was enormous. But, he was used to that already. What disturbed him was the lack of evidence of his father. The man was on a business trip, not dead. Yet, it appeared as though all trace of him was hidden from sight. Pictures had been removed from their frames, and his personal effects were nowhere to be found. From his place on the floor, Jacob saw the man's shoes had been shoved into a jagged pile under the bed. His clothes were barely visible within the dark closet.
Meanwhile, his stepmother was everywhere. From the plain of the floor rose numerous landscapes and hills formed from her clothes cast haphazardly to the ground. Her pictures were still up, at least the ones of only her. And still her makeup, jewelry box, and other such things were right where they ought've been. The room even smelled like the sweet perfume that wafted behind her as she paced through the house. It was as if his dad was long buried... except, he'd only been gone a week.
Moving across the floor, Jacob encountered a mound of fabric in his path. He had no particular destination, but he went toward the mound anyway, for curiosity and boredom if nothing else. But, as he grew closer, the cut of this particular fabric became clear to him. It was a pair of panties; black, lacy, and designed to impress. Every step closer struck him with a new wave of his stepmother's musk crashing into his nose. How he wished he could hold up the panties for a better look. His mind ran wild trying to imagine her body shoved into such delicate fabric, but the results were intangible, vague, foggy images that gave him nothing except a desire to see more.
He approached the lace. A tentative hand rose from his side and stroked along the swirls of the panties' construction. He'd never done anything like this before, despite the lust he'd felt for his stepmother all these years. Living together, that lust had blossomed into a crush so fierce that he felt chasing women his own age would be akin to cheating on her. When cracks began to show in his father's marriage to her, Jacob thought that maybe he would finally get his chance. And yet, despite his starving passions, he'd never done anything like this. Though temptation had always gnawed at his spine, he'd never watched her change, or so much as touched her underwear, even when it sat in the hallway fallen from her laundry basket. As long as she was married to his father, she was off limits. It didn't matter how revealing her clothes were, or the flirtatious remarks she made when they were alone. She belonged to his father alone, and that was that.
The sound of the front door to the house opening and closing roused him from his stupefaction. He heard jingling keys, and a handbag or purse being dropped. Staccato tremors reverberated through the house. They were coming closer, and closer, rattling his bones when they culminated beyond the bedroom door. Mom was home.
The door flew open, and a whirlwind shoved Jacob into the discarded panties. The room erupted with light, and a massive figure stood over him. Even her business attire was revealing; the black skirt she wore barely covered the juicy globes of her backside, and hugged a set of thighs and hips that could hypnotize man and woman alike. Her cleavage was free for all to see, barely contained within a purple blouse and still clearly visible despite the jacket she wore over it all. The tungsten bulb overhead radiated across her skin, giving it the warm, inviting smoothness of rich molten chocolate. Her legs were of a different texture, and Jacob saw they were covered in elegant nylons that terminated just above the hem of her skirt- depending on the angle at which she stood. As she stretched and let loose a small yawn, he saw the clips of a garter belt shining in the bedroom's comfortable glow.
“Jacob! You home?” she yelled to the rest of the house. “Jacob?” She waited for an answer. Then, “Good, didn't want him here tonight.”
The little man was too stunned to go out and meet her. He knew he should; he needed the help, and allowing her to find him near her panties would not end well. But, her words confused him, and her beauty was awe-inspiring enough. With the added tons brought by her sheer immensity compared to him, Jacob was lucky he could still think at all. He could only watch as the enormous, shapely muscles of her leg flexed before rising into the air. They carried forth the authoritative heel she wore to work, and then set down with a crash and quake that would've knocked Jacob to the floor if he wasn't already on his back. Then, the other leg rose. The little man watched it swing through the air... until the sole of the shoe blotted out everything above it. As it lowered, he didn't even have time to scream.