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Story Notes:

A sequel to Making a Man Out of Him, ordered by the same anonymous commissioner of the original! Buckle up, because this is going to be a fairly lengthy one.

Expect a lot of “twos” here, as in double the big-boned moms, double the giant asses, and double the traumatized shrunken sons. Even more so than the first story, this is all about plump MILFs, their major assets, and the many sights and smells that entails. You’ve been warned!

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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.

Chapter End Notes:

Things are going to get messy in this story.

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