I Am Jae's Mom

Author's Note:

This is the second chapter of a story about a dark stone and hidden paths. The story begins innocently in an idyllic suburban setting, but don't be fooled: This is a story of descent -- shifting forms, pleasure, control, and the mystery of nature.

Elements: Human TG, TF, Transformation, M2F, genderbending, bending of time and space. All characters are over 18 years.

---

"You want to take me again?" Mike laughed.

"That's okay. I think I skinned my foot on the side of the pool when I fell in." Chad treaded water and kicked his foot back to inspect his wound.

"Hey boys!"

Mike turned. Chad released his foot and grabbed on to the pool edge. Mrs. Moore strolled out the back door with a tray of lemonade. Both boys' gazes darted between her brown eyes and glimpses of her bikini-clad breasts between the pitcher of lemonade and stack of glasses.

"Hey," they said quietly.

She waddled to a pool side table with the tray, self-conscious of their glances, and set the glasses down.

"Are you okay Mrs. Moore?" Mike walked over to help her. He settled his hands on her hips. "You seem...dizzy."

In Mrs. Moore's short frame, Mike was much taller than Brandon had remembered. She flicked her hair back clumsily. "What do you mean?" Her voice was shaky. She was taken aback at his forwardness, the firm hands on her sides and his imposing presence.

Chad eyed her suspiciously. "Did something happen, Mrs. Moore?"

"Of course not -- I'm fine!" The words rushed out of her mouth, only adding to her flustered air. "Who wants lemonade?" She lifted the pitcher, poured three glasses, quickly taking a glass of her own and gulping a big sip. The lemonade was tart and refreshing, a cascade of cool liquid rushed down her throat and into her chest. She could feel the chill radiate into her breasts. Her nipples responded.

Mike picked up a glass languidly and took a sip. "You forgot Brandon."

She nearly choked on the lemonade. A chill ran down her back, joining the one in her chest. "B-Brandon? Excuse me?"

"You only brought three glasses," Mike said dryly.

Her glutes and thighs tensed. Adrenaline rushed through her nerves and into her extremities as if mapping her new frame from within.

"Speaking of which, where is Brandon?" Chad turned behind him, squinting into the deep foliage on the other side of the pool. "Brandon!" Chad yelled as he swam to the other end of the pool. "Brandon! Where are you?"

Her eyes darted between them. "I'm sure he's just exploring in the woods out back. M-men like to explore, right? Let me go get another glass, for...for Brandon."

She shuffled back into the house, nearly tripping over the step leading to the back door.

Mike watched her bounce away.

Men like to explore?

---

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Mrs. Moore whispered to herself as she entered the kitchen.

She flung open a cabinet, retrieved a glass and set it on the counter. Her breathing was erratic. She tried to steady herself.

"You need to calm down," she implored, "or they'll know you are fucking with them." The words rolled easily from her throat and reverberated sweetly in Mrs. Moore's ears. She could feel her ears poking through her long hair and the slight weight of the wide hoop earrings through her lobes. She reached up to feel the holes, the way the metal studs pushed into them, filling them. She carefully combed her fingernails through her hair, brushing it back behind her, taking care that the strands were not tangled in the hoops; as she did this the bracelets on her left hand rattled in one ear and her long hair tickled the small of her back. She let a hand fall over her tummy and began tracing the waist of her bikini bottoms with the nail of her pinky finger. She felt lightheaded; the ghost of Mike's strong hands still lingering above her hips.

She tucked her finger beneath the hem and her other fingers followed. She could feel her stripe of pubic hair running down her palm as her middle finger settled above her crevice. She curled her finger, and her right thigh twisted in response. She stood there pigeon-toed. Something about touching herself there made her feel in control. She gripped her crotch firmly -- it was akin to an animal being taken by the scruff of its neck.

She opened her eyes.

"What...what am I doing?"

Brandon took stock of the situation without moving the hand from Mrs. Moore's pussy. He pushed a feminine finger against her entrance and cringed, fighting the urge to enter it. He looked down and his field of view was filled by Mrs. Moore's luscious tits. Brandon snatched the hand from Mrs. Moore's pussy and grabbed the glass on the counter in front of him, depositing a spot of sticky wetness to its side.

Brandon pulled the hand away and a tiny thread of moisture followed. He looked at the moist spot on the glass in horror, then lifted the wet finger up to his face. Mrs. Moore's finger glistened; her juices magnifying her fingerprint. Her long white nails peeked out from behind her fingers. He felt their length. Their substance. Her hands were so small. So soft. So beautiful.

What did she taste like?

The thought filled her with such revulsion and curiosity that her hand began to shake. As if scared to lose her nerve, she acted quickly, sticking her tongue out and settling her finger to its surface, feeling Mrs. Moore's nail hard against her tongue -- then her taste.

Mmmm.

Her body relaxed instantly.

"I taste..." Her fragrance filled her nostrils.

"She tastes so sweet."

She could feel her pussy between her thighs -- getting wetter. She tensed the muscles within her, muscles that would have once made Brandon's cock bounce -- now they clung against nothing in the vacant space within.

She stood for a moment enjoying how smooth and compact her crotch felt in her bathing suit before returning her hand for a second taste.