My head spun as I woke up in my bed. It spun even more as I realized that I was not in the bed of my apartment, but my childhood bedroom in my parents' house. Or I suppose I should say my mother's house, as my father had not lived there since his untimely death by heart attack a few years back. I looked over and saw my key ring on the nightstand, and among the keys I could no longer see the apartment key that was a welcome reminder of my own tiny postage stamp of home.
I saw my car key on the ring, and a twitch of my eyes towards the window showed me that rather than a hunk of twisted steel with my rotting, cloven corpse, it was sitting in the driveway in just the condition I remembered from Sarah's the night before. Clearly Lucy had messed with more than I had even realized. I looked at the time, realizing from the light that it must be late morning at least. The clock read 11 sharp, and I groggily decided that I had to do something besides lay around, although I didn't particularly feel willing or even capable of doing what Lucy had asked me to do.
I became aware that I was naked in my bed, and got up to get dressed. I pulled out a set of clothes from the dresser, set them out and slowly donned t-shirt, boxers and socks, and began walking towards my closet to grab one of the pairs of pants hanging there. I was stopped abruptly by the inward swing of my bedroom door. It moved too fast for me to react and hit solidly. I landed on the ground, getting an eyeful of my mother's lacy red underthings beneath her short, tight skirt.
"Sorry honey," she said, looking down at me, "just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready."
I watched her sauntering out, her huge, firm ass shaking back and forth within the close-fitting confines of her blue Lycra miniskirt. I thought she must have been exercising, as I saw a drip of sweat fall, slowly tracing a meandering trail down her long, gorgeous legs. Or was it sweat? I followed the drip back up the copper tower to its origin, slowly seeping through her panties, which had been bone-dry when I had caught a glimpse only seconds earlier. Had I made my own mother dripping wet that fast? Was there more than big dicks and illusions to my new form?
I smelt her juices wafting toward me when she left the room, and I popped an instant boner. I tried to shift it around in my boxers to try and hide it, and while not terribly successful, once I had put on the loosest pair of pants I could find, the bulge wasn't obscenely obvious, but easily identifiable by anyone who was old enough to know what an erection was. I followed the one smell I was reasonably certain wouldn't give me wood, bacon and eggs.
I dug into the delicious crispy bacon and squirting sunny side up eggs. Then I tore through a delicious bowl of Cheerios, without milk, and I leaned back, draining a tall cranberry juice. My mother laughed at my ravenous appetite, asked me if I wanted any more eggs and bacon. I nodded around my glass of juice, then set it down, thinking of my father. It had struck mother hard, and I wondered why she was suddenly her old self again.
I asked her if she still missed him, and she said, "Of course not, honey. I knew it was coming. Every man who's married into this family has died in his 40s or 50s. Normal men just can't keep up with the women in our family. I got to spend more time with your father than most of us do with our husbands. And I have the perfect man of the house to replace him, right here. Funny how I can't remember any other boys in the family history besides you."
As she said this, her massive breasts hung within a Lycra top matching her skirt, right in front of my face. I had wilted a little while eating, but seeing her magical cleavage and smelling her intoxicating aroma made me harder than steel, harder than I thought I could be. I snuck glances at her as she clicked back over to the stove and began cooking. Had taboos really been the only thing stopping me from noticing this insanely hot woman?
Sure she had a little bit of a belly but her insanely full melons and ghetto booty sat balanced atop perfectly formed legs that were long by most standards but even more so in comparison to the shortness of her torso. A mane of golden curls lovingly caressed her face and shoulders. I saw her sneak a peek at my package, and while she thought I wasn't looking, her bright red lips curled into a spectacular smile, the skin crinkling slightly around her beautiful blue eyes.
Every fiber of my body wanted to give my mother the best sex of either of our lives, but I was still afraid that despite her obvious arousal, she'd still say it was wrong. And did I really want to do what Lucy wanted? Could I lose what independence I had by giving in? Or would defying Lucy cause her to do something terrible to me, or the rest of my family?
I decided to leave and get rid of the erection with some furious masturbation. Maybe I could think straight then. I finished my second helping, washed my plate, and began to leave, but she grabbed my arm, pulling me towards her. She asked what I was doing, and I made a stupid excuse. She pretended to believe me, and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. I moved to avoid it, but somehow ended up maneuvering us into a gentle lip touch.
The gentle brushing sent fire, ice and lightning throughout my body, and suddenly we were playing tonsil hockey in ways that would get us sent to the penalty box. We were in a tight clinch, with no doubt about my throbbing friend anymore, and the wetness that had dripped from her earlier was soaking through the front of her skirt and onto the front of my pants. I pulled back, feeling the wetness, but couldn't get up the nerve to let go of her. She looked up sheepishly at me.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."
"Mom, did you like it?"
"Yes, honey, I did, but that doesn't make it right."
"Well, I felt it too. Like you said, our family is special, and maybe being the first male born in so long means that we have a special destiny. You said as much, regular guys can't keep up. And if we both want to do it, is it really all that bad? I would only worry about one of us getting hurt, and I love you too much to hurt you, and I know you love me too much to hurt me."
"You're right honey," she said, collapsing into my chest sobbing.
I held her close, comforting her by slowly caressing her back. I thought of the words I had said seconds before, words I could never imagine saying the morning before that somehow seemed so right now. She raised her head, tears still in her eyes, but her radiant smile spread across her lips and sparkled deep in her eyes.
"You're right honey! I've never felt like this with any man before, and we're still wearing clothes! If anyone had said this would happen, I'd never believe them. I probably would have slapped them. But now I can't imagine it any other way." Then a shock of realization fell across her face. "Oh shit! Honey! Your sister is still in the house! She hasn't left for school! And us such a mess! What do we do?"
As if our worries had summoned her, we heard the sound of my 18-year old sister walking down the steps to the kitchen. Not thinking, I grabbed my mother in my arms, and with a burst of inhuman strength and speed, I carried her across the kitchen, barely missing pots and pans with her flailing feet. I bounded up the stairs, and dropped her in her bed, still soaking wet. I ran to my room, and quickly changed the pants soaked with my mother's juices. I headed back down the stairs slowly, to meet my sister Rebeca in the kitchen.
