The blue sky and late spring sunshine made Steve's head spin, as did the possibilities of what awaited him when he arrived back home. Every day had turned into a bit of an adventure in the Smith household - which wasn't overly unusual. Between the CIA father, the alien in the attic, the goldfish with the human brain, and the endless stream of colourful characters that interacted with his day to day life…
Steve's childhood was probably not what one would consider normal.
But the new, daily morning blowjobs were a welcome change. Francine, or 'Fran-girl' as she insisted that he call her that in school, was a bombshell. And the explosion of her existence in his life could not be disputed. Everyone in school watched him now - Steve was a ghost no more! He was getting jealous looks from dudes, and lingering looks from girls. He was getting attention! He was getting recognition! Even Akiko was starting to give him looks out of the corner of her eyes.
Steve was sure he even saw the babe give a little sigh when he passed by while holding Fran-girl's hand. He never would have thought that pretending to date Francine would have worked so well, but the two had to be careful. If anyone knew he was actually in a weird, fake relationship with his mom…
"...Chances are good something would happen and people would forget about it in time." Steve sighed out loud.
"You keep talking to yourself as if you're holding a conversation with an invisible woman!" Barry said from Steve's left. Steve flinched. He had forgotten that he was walking home with his friends, minus Toshi who had a business meeting after school. Apparently it was over something involving fish?
"You are being really weird lately, Steve. This isn't all over that girl, is it?" Snot asked, jealous, from Steve's other side. Steve chuckled and shook his head.
"Boys, boys, boys. A lady never kisses and tells." Steve turned up his walk with a grin. His stomach churned and his core tightened. That morning after Francine had woken him up with a kiss to the forehead she had whispered eight enticing words into his ear.
'I have a surprise for you after school.' She had then proceeded to deep throat his anaconda and left it aching, coated in lipstick marks and spit. His dick twitched insistently at the very memories, eager to be back inside of her throat.
"See you guys later!" Steve called over his shoulder.
"Don't forget the meeting tomorrow morning for the good boy club!" Snot called back. Barry waved over his shoulder as the duo walked down the street.
"Do you ever notice how so much of our lives revolve around Steve? To the point that he always walks in the middle of the sidewalk like he's taking point?" Barry asked out loud.
(...)
Steve turned to the living room with a frown. The lights were dimmed low and the curtains were closed. There was mood music in the air and the sweet scent of perfume wafting around the room. Standing before him in all her glory was his mother. Mah Mah and Bah Bah must have driven her home at triple the speed limit, because she'd put everything together.
Red candles slowly dripped wax onto a new bright white shag carpet. The drawn curtains were dark and heavy. The wine chilling in the Yeti cooler was a bit white trash, especially for such an expensive bottle, but Steve didn't care. He didn't know what she expected him to drink though. A silver serving tray covered in a pyramid of chocolates added a sense of playfulness to this incestuous tribute.
And the goddess herself stood in the centre of the room. Not nude, that would have been beneath her. She was wearing red high heels, a pink garter belt and silk stockings. Her nipples were teased and had a hint of lipstick to make them pop, her hair, in a loose ponytail. She was decked out in perfume, in lust, and the most sultry smile her big blowjob-lips could muster.
"Welcome home darling," she purred. Her eyelashes batting enticingly at him. Her soft full body looked delightful. Her long legs were twisting and turning. Making sure he got every last angle. Her gravity defying fuck-mounds bounced a little, the oil she was slicked in giving her a shining look of pure desire.
"Ma-ma-ma-ma…"
"That's right… Who's your mama?" She said as he dropped his backpack beside the front door. Steve's glasses fogged up. He really needed to get contacts or something. He yanked them off, cleaned them off, and found her across the room, one hand resting on the door jamb. The other on her hip, her fat, pale ass wiggling at him.
She bit her lip and clapped her ass cheeks together, drawing him towards her. Steve stumbled forwards, his backpack discarded, his shoes abandoned, every last strip of his clothing tossed aside on his way forward. The trail from the open door across the sexed up living room wrote the story of his youthful horniness.
"Mom? Are we… Can I…" He stumbled forwards. Pants around his ankles. Thick, unwieldy cock slapping at his knees. His thin, pale body quivering with anticipation. His hand touched the wall where she had rested hers. It was still warm. The scent of perfume lingered on the air. She was down in the kitchen now, still giggling.
"Oh baby… You need to catch mommy first if you expect to be inside of her." Steve rushed forwards. She was on the far side of the kitchen counter, wagging her ass at him like a bithc. She brought her hand down and smacked her full, firm butt cheek, leaving a red hand print. Her long pink fingernails dimpled her flesh, leaving him breathless and her drooling. Her sensitive ass was slick and shiny, eager to be groped, spanked, bitten, licked, kissed, and worshipped by the fruit of her womb.
Francine giggled as Steve eagerly jumped onto the table and raced for her. She twisted on her heel and made for the next hallway. Steve was panting, his dick getting erect. The chase was on! A thousand and one naughty possibilities raced through the young man's mind - the sheer animalistic lust that pounded in his veins was indescribable.
Francine was on the other side of the table, dodging one way then another, playfully getting him hotter and hotter. His breaths were coming fast, he was panting with need. His dick was dripping pre-cum all over his thighs.
Francine wiggled and squeezed her tits together only using her upper arms. Her big tasty tits were so round and large that they needed very little force to get squeezed. Her hip coyly smacked the doorway on her way out, and she was down the hall and halfway up the staircase in a few long legged sprints. Her antelope-like legs strode her smoothly through her house - she was almost to the top before she realised she was alone.
Francine paused, waiting. She giggled eagerly, then nervously. Then she tapped her foot and checked the clock. She stalked back down the staircase, her unfucked ass wobbling with woe. She poked her head into the next room. No Stevie. The next room. Still no Steve. She walked down the hallway, and that was when Steve pulled himself in.
He was red faced and sweaty. He was more then just out of breath; he was struggling to breathe. He wiped his forehead, dick noticeably softer, his eyes unfocused. He looked like he had run a marathon, then fell into a big bucket of sweat.
"Sweetie," Francine trilled and gripped her tits, mushing them together, her eyes wide with delight. They then narrowed with concern. It was like he wasn't even paying attention to her! She frowned and stomped forward, Steve looking at her in a daze.
"Sweetie?" She asked, waving her hand in front of his face.
Steve snorted and blinked. "Huh? Wha?"
"Steve!" She stomped her high heel down hard. Steve came out of his funk and chuckled.
"O-Oh, sorry, Fran-girl. I guess all of that exercise really took it out of me. How about we just go and jump to the grand finale? It's not like we don't know how this is all going to end," he said with a disarming smirk, proud of how far he'd come. Francine looked at him in shock, annoyance, then pure, unbridled, motherly rage.
"Steve, come on! Don't you want all of this!?" She gestures up and down to her wonderful body. He shrugged and gripped his dick, giving it a few strong tugs.
"Well, sure. But do we really need to go to all this effort? Wouldn't it be easier if we just went upstairs and I plow you into mush?"
Francine tossed up her hands in annoyance, ranting and raving in pig latin for a few seconds she was so furious. She turned and stomped away, grabbing the chilled wine bottle and pulling the cork right out as she went. She chugged half of it before she was even up the stairs.
Steve followed after her, then stopped, rolling his eyes. Women! He sat on the couch and ate a handful of chocolate. He turned on the TV and went straight to his last saved level on tetris. Though his hands moved and his eyes dully tracked those falling blocks, he stumbled, the pieces not falling into place as cleanly as he usually played. An hour or two must've passed before Steve sighed, stopped, and at least chucked his underoos back on.
He looked up the stairs, ears picking up on some light, angry grunting. Looking back to the screen, then down at his scrawny arms, he made a promise to himself. Within seconds he'd flicked the TV off, packed the game away, and cooked some high-protein food for himself. (Granted, they were chicken tendies, but, chicken was chicken!)
He thought on going back up there and apologising, but just contemplated further. Words would be hollow, both he and Francine knew that. What would change her mind, what would make it up to her, was action. He needed to rest up - for tomorrow he'd put himself on the line for her. For Fran-girl.
(...)
Steve caught himself waiting at the front of his high school. The roll-call bell had rung, but there he was, waiting for Fran-girl. He was almost queasy - and whether that was from the odd breakfast his mom had prepared for him or that tiny uncertainty that she wouldn't show up, he didn't know.
Well. It was probably the oysters and pineapple.
A van pulled up gently behind him and he turned around, smiling as Francine exited the car. She gave a kiss to Mah Mah and Bah Bah and squealed with delight when she saw him, running to hug him. He embraced her, breathing her sweet scent in, and dug his fingers into her ass flesh, sighing.
"You know, pookie bear, you'd look a lot cooler if you didn't wait up for me," Francine noted. She gasped as Steve laid a kiss on her lips, pulling back quicker than she wanted.
"I mean yeah, but, you're my Fran-girl. I wanted to see ya earlier."
Francine felt her heart skip a beat as she gave him a kiss back. A wet, lip-smacking delight just to show him how much she appreciated that gesture. Already his head had begun to spin from pleasure and the day hadn't even begun, but Steve took it in stride, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
"Plus," he huffed, "seeing those tits bounce on the way up… Well, that's the best 'good morning' I've gotten in a while."
"Oh, pookie bear, you always know just what to say," Francine giggled, taking his hand in hers and marching forward. "We got gym today by the way - it's the perfect opportunity to get you into shape!"
"Shape?" Steve asked, flexing his arm a little. "...Oh yeah. If it means getting enough stamina to catch ya, Fran-girl, then I'll gym like I've never gymmed before!"
"Not only that," Francine tittered, her voice suddenly dropping, gaining a dark edge, "but have you ever wanted to lock a girl in a full nelson? Pin her down, make her feel weak and vulnerable… Then just cum inside her while she's all powerless to stop you?"
Steve blinked. No, he hadn't had that exact thought before. He had enough inspiration already - catch mom and fuck her brains out - but god was the idea of getting stronger enticing too!
"...I can't believe I'm saying this, but, to the gym we go!" Steve declared, his proud, excited smile dying the instant he heard a shocked gasp. "Oh, christ, look, if that's Principal Lewis again-"
"-It's not Lewis, Steve!" Snot roared, daintily walking down the steps of the entrance, tears welling up in his eyes. "Where were you? We had our Good Boy Club meeting and I was left without a co-chair! I had to sit there and lie to the likes of Toshi, who, by the way, says that his sister is still off limits, all while you were… You were…"
"...Sorry?" Steve apologised with a shrug. "Look, Snot, I don't mean to sound callous, but it was only one afternoon-"
"-Only one afternoon? Only one? I… I-"
From sheer rage his fellow nerd collapsed to the ground, passing out, head bouncing off the concrete. Steve looked to his mother, who was busy reapplying lipstick, letting the two sort their nerdy lovers spat out. Steve then went to speak, to see if Snot was alright, but just sighed. Even if he wanted, he couldn't go back to the way things were - he wasn't a bad boy, per se, but by god he was sick of being a good boy.
He dialled a number on his phone, looked to the sky, and sighed.
"Yeah, Miss Lonstein, it's Steve-, yeah, Snot's concussed again-, yeah, there's blood, and-, yeah, no, that's fine, you-"
Francine's ears pricked at how quickly Esther Lonstein hung up the phone, and from all the way across town she could hear something fire into the air. Steve squinted, saw the blue-and-white smoke, and bid Snot adieu, motioning Fran-girl to follow him.
"Can a girl ask?" Francine peeped up as she slid her fingers between Steve's, taking his firm hand in hers. "I don't wanna pry, but the Lonsteins ain't exactly paying out the ears for an ambulance-"
"-Emergency Jewish Medical Service," Steve elucidated. "Every 'brew gets one. Snot's not gonna be happy his was wasted on this, but…"
Francine nodded. "...My man's did what my man's had to do."
(...)
Francine had nearly forgotten the thrill of the prowl. It wasn't a hunt - not yet, at least - but a prideful strut across a realm she easily dominated, a venerable, corruptible feast for her hungry eyes. Young men bowed to her, and young women shot jealous stares at her, all the while her future hubby led her, fire in his belly and love in his heart.
She'd stood on the edge of a decision before all this began, when she divorced Stan and took his livelihood and savings and all future savings: to indulge in the wealth and freedom, to play among the horny teens, or to 'wisen' up and live her hottest, most fuckable years in recluse as a housewife without a husband. A more mature woman wouldn't have seen the decision, let alone considered fucking her own son, but Francine could see all the hurt in Steve's heart.
Akiko Yoshida held her boy's love in her hands, and had squandered it. Francine couldn't deny the thrill of virginity, ready to be given or taken, but legends and idols were made at this age! The two could've spent their time even now exploring each other's bodies and discovering the sheer joy of sex for themselves, but a guiding hand seemed necessary instead.
And what was better? To fail and find success? Or to learn from a goddess of the art of lovemaking?
Francine didn't hate Akiko, not by a longshot. She could see what Steve saw, even through his perpetually fogging glasses. A hot, tight-bodied Japanese girl with a cute little ass and the air of something naughty about her. The forbidden fruit of a best friend's sister. A future wife, eager to be rid of her parents.
Those all reeked of budding depravity to Francine. Akiko would be brought to heel, not gingerly asking Steve for a date, but instead begging and pleading for him to take her, be her first. Only when the tables were flipped would she be granted a seat at them.
Francine shook her head from those heady, lusty thoughts - she'd been watching way too much Game of Thrones since she'd left Stan. Instead she got to work, waving to her new girlfriends and chuckling at Steve's jokes whenever they'd walk past the biggest and meanest looking boys in school.
Competition, to a point, would give Steve extra inspiration to improve himself, to see the best version of himself and flaunt it. She hoped then it would be a simple widening of his lens to see all the cunt he could be eating, instead of just hers and Akiko's. While her lures were set in place, she then whipped her phone out to dispel rumours and ignite others, jumping from private groups to one-on-one Snaps.
"Whatcha doin', Fran-girl?" Steve asked, unable to keep a smirk from his face. "I hope it's sending me some titty pics."
"Oh, pookie bear, I've sent you a bunch already," she scoffed, "right now I'm saying that you set fire to the nunnery at Allstar High."
"What!?" Steve howled. "Why the hell would I have done that?"
Francine giggled, shaking her head, "because it's anti-religion, anti-establishment, and, if anyone believes it, it helped a sister-in-training discover her own sexuality."
Steve went to protest before the words died in his mouth, new ones forming from confusing thoughts. "Was… Is Allstar High a Catholic school?"
Francine shrugged. "It is now."
"Is… Is it real?"
"Pookie bear, the more holes you poke in our story means the less holes you get to poke with that cock of yours. Now, mush! To the lockers with ya, ya fuckin' pyromaniac!"
She gave him a light smack on the ass, and Steve bolted to the changerooms, coming out workout-ready with his face steaming red, the sheer eagerness bearing a bold testament against his old life. Now was the time for improvement, vigorous exercise and muscular massing - all Francine had to do was continue to provide inspiration.
"Y-You're not getting dressed for gym?"
"Why do you ask?" Fran-girl giggled, "were you hoping to spy on me getting changed in the locker room?"
Steve nodded, his cock pressing dangerously tight against his gym shorts. "I mean, yeah. I figured that's what was… Never mind-"
"Baby, my good looking bod is yours for the taking. But I can't fit workout clothes and all my sex toys and books in my backpack. I have to leave a few things at home. Did books get bigger by the way? It feels like they are soooo long and boring."
"Well, I mean yeah… History has what, doubled since you were last in school?" Steve yelped as she gripped his dick and squeezed, Francine's smile unfaltering.
"Now what could you mean by that? Pookie… Bear?" She said, squeezing his shaft warningly. Steve remembered the age old saying, something about never insinuating a woman's age!
"Nothing! Lovely! So cute!" He said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before she let go of him, that smile turning devious.
"-Alright," Coach Keegan blew his whistle, "girls facing boys - we're doin' elimination jumping jacks! Boys, as always - last man standing gets a little one-on-one time with their favourite coach!"
Francine motioned for Steve to join the boy's line opposite her. Steve thought they'd ditch this regimen and do their own - crack into the weightlifting gear, but no - he saw what Fran-girl was cooking. His chest went pitter-patter. His heart was threatening to break right out of his torso.
"...And jump!"
The whistle was sharp and everyone went. Francine's body in motion was art. She knew this - and knew how giddy and hypnotised and feral it made her boy. With no bra, her tits were free to bounce unimpeded, the usual little slaps of flesh against flesh turning into joyous claps.
From the word jump Steve was fixated on her - blood pumping through him anew and his eyes on his double-D prizes. Her nipples made tents of the tight constricting fabric, and every move made her feel all the more hot and bothered. Her thong felt like it was smothering her pussy, riding further up her ass crack.
The other boys stared and drooled, and the girls became green with envy, their gym clothes no match against the power of a schoolgirl's button-up. Francine smirked. She knew she was the prime bitch 'round these parts. Having a couple of decades of training over everyone else just helped.
"Barry, out! Toshi, sweetie, you're out too!"
Whistle after whistle blew as the two gender lines were obliterated, until only the paragons of either side were left standing, jumping and spreading. Steve was possessed, all higher thoughts overridden by the caveman urge to hunt, just like his mother. Humankind had become apex predators by simply not stopping, and by god Steve was going to outlast Francine, he had to. The blows of Coach Keegan's whistle were simply war songs of tribes long dead, songs which Steve honoured.
"By god Mister Smith, you're a beautiful, sweaty sight! You've won, a hundred times you've won, but keep going! Look at those lovely legs work!"
Francine shot daggers at Keegan - and he backed down - but not before copping a view of her son's thickening thighs. She longed for them to grow stronger than her husband's - thick enough so Steve could lock her head between them and choke her in their warmth. In that moment she longed for Steve's fat, limp cock to rest against her head as those thighs choked her to blissful, post-coital unconsciousness.
She lost something then, daydreaming. A button. She gasped, her sweat must have dislodged the thin thread keeping the button sewn - and her breasts were about to burst free! The world slowed down as every single lad in Steve's class leaned forward, eyes glittering and mouths agape. But Steve himself was struck with horror.
Her tits slowly bounced upwards. Her hands were well above her head. The funbags lifted inch after intoxicating inch. The beads of sweat dripping down them seemed to move in slow motion, and Francine's luscious lips parted in a surprised little 'oh'. Her gasp came just as the button popped off.
It went flying. Clattering across the gym floor. Her breasts burst free like a pair of boulders shooting down a mountain. An avalanche of gorgeous soft mommy flesh free from the tight confines of her outfit.
Steve didn't think. He lunged forward with a possessive growl, hands reaching out for glory and snatching so much more. He'd tackled and pinned Francine to the ground, hands digging into her soft, pillowy milkers, squeezing them of their own accord! Sweat beaded down his brow as he breathed, straddling Fran-girl with an all-dominant flare to his eye. Francine let out a surprised moan. Her ass bruised from the sudden jump. She was on her back, hands above her head, shirt fluttering beneath her.
"Cover yourself, Fran-girl. Ain't no one sees my biddy's titties but me!"
Francine obeyed her man, the breath knocked out of her and the sheer scent rolling off her boy, her man intoxicating her. She drank of him and let his dripping sweat drop against her tongue before she composed herself, pushing him off, her son quickly tying her shirt back over her exposed, quivering chest. His hands were soft, yet firm, laying a tender claim to her body - something that made her cunt shudder in pleasure.
"Y-Yes, pookie bear!" she whispered, face red with embarrassment, body shaking with excitement, all youthful energies which Francine quickly had to turn into a defence.
"That's it!" Akiko screamed. The younger, shorter woman flung herself at Francine. Now it was this bitches' turn to tackle the taller woman. Francine raised one surprised eyebrow before easily sidestepping the clawing, growling cunt. Akiko stumbled. Her small red booty shorts were riding up her fine ass. Her black hair was in a luxurious ponytail that stopped just about lower back.
While Francine had the height advantage, and the tit and endurance and reach advantage, Akiko was one hundred and six pounds of pure biting rage. She leapt at Francine again, the blonde bimbo moving and ducking and weaving, until finally, she stuck out her foot and knocked Akiko to the ground. Akiko whirled around on the ground, a red mark on her face. Her eyes wide and furious, her chest heaving as she scrambled back up.
The rest of the students were in a loose circle in the gym. Chanting in their normal mindless unison.
"Cat fight! Cat fight! CAT FIGHT!"
Steve was left chasing after the two, Francine moving quickly over the ground. Her high heels clicked un-worriedly as she walked backwards, hips swaying, asscheeks forcing up her mini skirt. She had her hands under her tits, trying to control the bouncing, but it was a losing battle, and just made those once-free honkers pop.
"Come back and fight, you bitch!" Akiko shouted at the top of her lungs. She was kicking, scratching, spitting, and clawing, trying to get a hold of Francine. Failing. Her endurance was running out. Tears and sweat were beading down her face.
Francine turned and grabbed Akiko suddenly. The two swept to the floor, spitting and yanking at each other's hair. Akiko grabbed any part of Francine she could reach, and Francine responded by kneeing the younger woman in the stomach. They rolled and bounced, like a pair of wrestlers in an inflatable bounce castle. Neither giving an inch.
Akiko managed to tear herself free, a trio of scrapes going down her cheek. She growled, eyes burning with a scorned fire. Francine got back up, panting, and then motioned for Akiko to come and get it. Akiko let out a berserker shriek and rushed forwards. Francine dropped her center of gravity, arms twitching.
"Oh God, please don't pull a knife," Steve muttered as he rushed forwards to try and stop all of this.
Akiko came crashing into Francine. Like a matador, the MILF-in-disguise didn't hesitate. Akiko stumbled, reached out, and grabbed what she could. And then she found herself on the other side of Francine. Only in her gym shoes.
Akiko looked down, horrified. Naked. She was buck-ass nude in school. Every single terrible prepubescent nightmare came crashing down around her ears. People let out a deep gasp. And then began laughing.
Her ripened red like a tomato. Her knees went weak. Her lip quivered in embarrassment. She gripped what was in her hands, it was Francine's button up top. She'd grabbed it without thinking. Akiko held it over her naked body in abject terror, trying to preserve even a quarter of her dignity.
Francine held up Akiko's shirt in one hand, the red short shorts spun around her finger in the other. Her breasts heaved in delight. The brisk breeze cooling her sweat there. The entire gym was silent in wide eyed amazement.
"Oh yeah. Fran-girl's still got it," she said with a grin. Steve came to a stumbling halt beside Francine. His eyes wide, his jaw slack. Akiko, his glorious lovely, perfect little Akiko… Nude. In front of him. A thousand different fantasies came bursting over the young man, countless late night masturbatory sessions, countless early morning fantasies, countless hours spent frittering away at his knob with a tube sock and some vaseline. And now he got to get an actual eyeful of her glorious nude body. So young and supple, so soft and curvy. Like an hourglass made out of sex.
She was looking back at him, her face heavy with embarrassment. Steve took a step forward, raising a hand to comfort her.
(...)
"How the hell am I the one in trouble here?" Steve shouted in the principals office. Lewis had walked into the gym to pick up some cash and a rifle he kept under the bleachers to go and take care of some 'Black Biz' when he saw the two nude girls and the gawking Steve.
Lewis had reacted sensibly and roundhouse kicked the nerd right in the jaw. After waking up to two angels hovering over him (really his bare breasted mother and crush), Lewis dragged Steve's ass to the principal's office for him to serve out the entirety of his detention.
"I was just standing there Brian!" Steve protested. Lewis tutted and shook his head.
"Listen your cracker-ass up Smith. And sit your skinny white butt down. I'm the one who dishes out the punishments around here, and if I say you're in trouble, that's the law, baby!"
"Well, the school board will hear about this!" Steve stomped, sitting down and crossing his arms angrily.
"School board!" Lewis tossed his head back with a guffaw. "Honky, the National Education System of America claimed us as a tax write-off! We're technically a CIA black site. No one investigates here. And like Quahog or Springfield, whatever I says, goes. Now I gotta ditch this joint. I've got a meet up with some fine Columbians over some finer Cuban cigars. You leave this room, and I'm hunting you down like The Running Man!" Lewis stood up, dusted his blue suit off and walked out of the administrative office. He paused to shoot Steve a dirty look and flip the young man off.
Steve sat and stared at the wall. This was such bullshit! He couldn't even take out his phone and play any apps. It was still in his jeans which were in his gym locker. God only knew what gossip he was missing out on too - he'd never cared about his public image before but he so badly wanted to see what he looked like to Pearl Bailey High!
"Ugh, so bored..." He could've gone through Lewis' desk… Maybe find something cool. Or accidentally prick his finger on god-knows-what. He already knew the psycho stored guns throughout the school.
"Come on… What would a bad boy do…" Steve stood up and started going through the desk. "Don't wanna know. Don't wanna know. Lots of cocaine. Lots of porn…Whoa, mama!" Steve pulled out a kettlebell. It felt like a hundred pounds! He stumbled to the chair and sat down with a thud. He gulped, his Fran-girl's words from this morning echoing in his head. Did he want to stay a little shrimp of a boy forever?
The image of tossing Akiko around the way his mom did. Treating her like a toy, like a cum rag… It was so hot! But man, weights were way heavier than he thought. But he also remembered how disappointed Francine looked, how close to death he was just going for a little chase around the house. Both hands clenched around that worn-down grip.
Steve began to pump the iron. First, both arms, wobbly and weak. Then, after a little while and some rest, one arm, then the other. Then kettlebell swings. Then his arms again. He began to work up a sweat, then a heaving breath. Soon he was red in the face, his arms straining to move the big weight as they twinged and shot sparks through his overworked, overtired muscles.
The door creaked open, then closed. Then it clicked, locked, then something heavy was dragged in front of it. Steve turned to look. His new weight dropped to the floor with a crunch. Francine was leaning against the door. Her hands behind her back. Biting her lip. She giggled in delight, gum popping in her cheek. The older woman was the epitome of loveliness. And pure, drop-down-dead sexiness.
"Ma… Mom?"
She smiled. He thought she was going to admonish him for not whispering a sweet, flustered 'Fran-girl', but no, she approached him and laid a kiss on his quivering lips. Steve was steadied and rocked all the same by those plump, luscious things, not a care in the world if the lipstick smeared back against him. His arms, muscles spasming all along their length, wrapped gently around his mom's waist, pulling her tight to his body.
"I don't know what I expected when I came in here," she admitted, voice low and husky, "but, weights, all on your own. You wanna do your mama proud, sweetie?"
"I wanna do my mama," Steve huffed, freeing his cock from his gym shorts to nestle between Francine's thighs. "I wanna do her rotten. I-If getting strong helps me fuck you longer, and harder… I gotta. I have to do it."
Words, not actions, but Francine considered this a sworn oath if anything. The unbridled flame in Steve's eyes, and the sheer conviction in his body was a promise that he'd improve himself. She couldn't deny it, and her body couldn't deny him any longer - guiding his cock to saw gently between her thick thighs, slickening its length with her dripping cunt. The two rocked back and forth in their hug, kissing again and again, until Steve broke from them, a dangerous glint in his eye.
"I want the whole school to hear this," he said, flicking on the intercom switch on Lewis' desk, the alert tone of the PA ringing through the halls. "Don't be shy, Fran-girl."
Francine welcomed it, and sat on Lewis' desk, throwing all of his papers - both educational and rollers - off the top. Steve was upon her the second she opened her legs to him, taking grip of her thighs, adjusting her lower back, scooting her just off the edge, performing practised motions he'd only ever seen in porn before. Excitement nearly pumped his heart straight through his chest as he positioned his cock just at Francine's cunt, his whole body shaking in anticipation.
The heat coming off her was unimaginable, and the sheer scent of his mom drove him mad; he didn't slam in, no, but Steve wasted not a second more, his cockhead pushing past her panties and diving down into her depths, stretching her body out farther than Francine could've prepared for. She bit her lip in amazement. Gasps were yanked all the way out from her core. Her wetness wasn't enough on its own, but she took this as a challenge, biting down on her bottom lip as he sheathed himself, and kept going.
"H-Holy fuck," Francine squeaked, "y-you're so big! I'd forgotten how big you were pookie-bear!"
"I-It's been so long," Steve howled, "g-g-god I've needed this pussy for so long!"
Plap, plap, plap echoed the halls of Pearl Bailey High; every student in attendance perked up. All ears were on the pair, hearing their breaths, their moans, the slaps of groin against groin, and the unmistakable wetness of a dripping, eager pussy. Some even saluting the profane broadcast.
Steve's hips were locked in a natural rhythm he wouldn't dare break out of - not unless Fran-girl said otherwise. Her arms were linked behind his neck and her legs were wrapped tight around his hips, pulling him in closer and closer with every thrust. Her insides, thoroughly rearranged, had adapted to her son's thick dick, welcoming in more and more of him, greedily taking all the squirting precum he could give her. His hands dug into her hips. Struggling to hold onto her. Almost as if he was trapped to her. Their slippery bodies rubbing, their clothes stimulating their chests and arms.
The fact that he hadn't cum instantly was a shock to her; but she could see how hard her boy was struggling with the intense pleasure. She smiled lovingly, her face radiated that sweet need of a lover, a woman, and a proud mother. A rare but glorious combination.
She took pride in it, and locked their lips in again, tongue darting into Steve's mouth to drive him insane, putting just a little extra 'oomph' into her muffled moans. There was no way he'd last long now; and Francine wasn't close to cumming just yet, but there was something magical in that moment she wanted to cherish nonetheless.
"C-Cum inside me," she begged, whispering at first as she bit onto his ear, "c-cum inside me pookie-bear."
"I-I'm gonna," Steve warned her, "h-h-holy f-fuck F-Fran-girl, I'm gonna cmmph~!"
She pulled him down atop her, crushed his hips into hers, and together the two broke Lewis' desk clean in half, Steve's cock plundering far deeper than Francine could take it. She couldn't hold back a moan - not that she'd want to - and squirted deeply against her son's monstercock, keeping her arms tight around him, burying his face in her tits. All Steve could do was sing, voice muffled with a suckle at Francine's tits, unleashing every bit of stored cum into his mother's pussy.
The two groaned long. Their harmonising echoed across the halls and in the room. Steve's eyes were screwed tight with exertion. He could not believe the sheer relief he felt as he unloaded his cock inside of her. Her aching pussy drank his cum up, sucking him deeper and deeper, bringing the jizz back to the motherland in some unholy repatriation.
Steve rolled his head between her tits. The sweet smell of sweaty nirvana was thick in his nostrils.
"Y-You… Y-You okay, Fran-girl? D-Didn't hit your head?"
She shook her head, smiling at him. Limp, Steve pulled out of her and kissed her, his fingers digging back into her quim. Francine was shocked, eyes snapping open as she held onto his arm, feeling it tense. Steve broke their kiss again, and grinned back at her.
"I may be, uh, outta practice," he said, shooting a glance back to the intercom, somehow still broadcasting their embrace, "but I wanna make you feel good. Especially while all my spooge is in ya, Fran-girl."
That's my boy, she thought.
"P-Pookie-bear," she said, bringing back down into a kiss as she rode his fingers, edging a little more onto them to hit her g-spot. Steve adapted, catching her, and dug his digits into the spongy roof of her love-canal, dragging and massaging with each thrust, steadying himself with his other hand.
She hugged against that arm of his, feeling it shake, all weary from a good workout, filled with pride and lust and jizz. From her tightening tummy sparked a shock of an orgasm, and quickly after her pussy fired back, squirting weakly against her son's half-naked body. Francine was a mess, a son-loving, regressed, depraved milf-mess, but by god she had lived for a moment like this.
Steve's fingers worked like a musician strumming a guitar. Making her wetter and wetter. Coaxing out another orgasm from her depths like he would a lost cat from a sewer drain. Her next orgasm made her screw up her face, her mouth falling open, her own fingers digging into his hair and bunching up the rug in Lewis's office.
She took quick shallow breaths as Steve withdrew from her, bringing his fingers to her mouth. She sucked them eagerly, eyes closed, licking their sex-mix clean. Slowly she opened her eyes, and smiled against the digits, seeing how much of a rise that got out of her boy.
"F-Fuck, Fran-girl," Steve sighed, just laying atop her, head against her chest. He relished her warmth, her hug, and roamed his hands about her body, admiring each sweaty, heaving curve. "I love you… Always have, i-in some way."
Francine could only giggle. "That's gonna attract some more bullies, y'know. Everyone likes to pick on the lover-boys."
"Let 'em come," said Steve, smiling, "I'll fight 'em or fuck 'em into submission. I love you. And soon every part of you is gonna be mine… Mommy."
He whispered the last word, being caught as nothing but a breath on the mic. The promise made Francine reincarnate, rising from the ground as she fixed up her stained uniform, looking like a glorious, sexy mess.
"I love you too," and with a stomp of her high-heel, she destroyed the mic, ending the announcement with a horrible screech. "Steve. My son. My little guy…"
His cock twitched, and so too did he rise, standing up on shaky, sore legs. Barely fitting his half-erect prick back into his pants, Steve took Francine's hand and jimmied the door open. A rousing applause assaulted the two as they walked out. The first glaring goliath in line was Lewis. Arms crossed, fuming. But the massive crowd of teachers and students kept him from doing anything deranged to Steve… For now.
Steve smirked, confidence and adoration from his peers making him light headed and fearless. He sauntered forward, one arm around his woman, into that sea of bright-red faces. Some were whistling, some cheering. So many who didn't know his name now stared at him in open, gawked shock. The girls his age were wiggling and biting their thumbs. The boys were staring in jealousy and respect.
There, at the end of a hall, Francine could see Akiko, freshly dressed in baggy loaner clothes, a stained drab gray sweatshirt from the schools defunded swim team. A pair of ripped blue jeans from the lost and found that were way out of season. Her hair was in a bun that made her look younger then she was. She walked forwards, sneakers clomping instead of clicking, high heels clicked and gave a sense of sexual maturity. After all, only cowards and sexless freaks wore sneakers.
Akiko tried to push into the crowd with tears in her eyes. The shoulders were firm and she couldn't make any headway towards Steve. With no thought, Francine just smirked Akiko's way and handed a scrunched up thong to Steve. It was wet with cum and very obviously used. She blew Akiko a little kiss over her shoulder while hanging onto her boo as they marched straight out of school. The act was enough to make Akiko fall to her knees in despair, a silent thud against a hundred pairs of eyes, just waiting on the next move of Pearl Bailey's prime power-couple.
A small chipping sound could be heard from Akiko's chest. A weird weight dragging her mind downwards. Her core tightened and she let out a soft whimper of a broken heart.
(...)
Steve looked like a mess. Lit by the afternoon sun with his back against a wall at the front of the school, he was stuck waiting for another pickup. His glasses, now permanently fogged, hung off his shirt collar, half-bent in the 'Pussy Pandemonium' as the school rumour mill dubbed it. Wearily, he sensed something being thrown his way, and moaned in pain as it struck him in the face.
"Ow! What the hell-"
"-Oh sorry Steve, I thought you were like, some postbox that smelled like jizz," came a familiar voice.
"Jeff," Steve grunted, "oh wait, hey, contacts! Dude, why did you have these?"
Fumbling with the box, cracking open a set and layering the things atop his eyeballs, Steve quickly worked past that awful wriggling feeling, feeling his whole body shiver in disgust. With a blink, he saw a funky cloud of smoke erupt from Jeff's lips. The clarity wasn't as good as his specs, but the only sight he had to appreciate now was the lovely, golden sunset before him.
And the scruffy stoner that was married to his sister. Jeff's hat was askew, his pants were unzipped, and he had a new gold chain. All in all he looked a bit more put-together then usual.
"Missus S asked me to grab 'em for ya." Jeff slumped against the wall beside Steve. The brick not bothering him a bit.
"Oh, thanks Jeff. Jeez, thanks for going out of your way, too."
"Hm?" Jeff asked, turning slowly to meet Steve's gaze, leaning against the wall, "oh, she asked me to grab this, like, four weeks ago dude. I had some inner demons I had to deal with. Then some outer ones. Those outer ones really put a damper on my whole op, y'know?"
"How strong is that stuff?"
Jeff took a draw, observed the tightly-rolled joint, and blinked, one eye at a time. "On the blintzer-scale, its magnitude is like an eight, eight and a half."
Steve flung his hands up to whip the cloud away from his face. "Don't you mean the Richter scale?"
"What?"
"...Never mind," Steve sighed. The pair sat there, breathing in the breeze and littering the school yard like bugs, wondering when that bright, loving sun would descend fully. Jeff was staring directly into the sun and was thinking about waffles. Obviously.
Steve thought about Akiko. Her body would be forever seared into his mind. From her firm, small breasts, to her cute little nipples, her kissable hips and her silky thighs. And especially the cute way she got flustered and embarrassed. It was straight out of some Japanese adult video, and he could see the title of this chapter in his life on some porn site; "JAPANESE GIRL STRIPPED NAKED AND HUMILIATED".
He didn't like seeing her suffer, not one bit - but he enjoyed her paying attention to him almost as much as he enjoyed his mom's body. Almost. His heart was torn between them, and he felt guilty in torturing the poor girl, in being shared between her and his mom.
When Akiko found out - if she ever did - how would she react? Would she leave them both or be stuck too deep to care? Would she call him a sick twisted incestuous freak? Kick him in the balls? Did she really even care for him, or was the draught of attention getting to her that badly? Steve wanted to know, to be sure of shit like this.
"A lot on the mind, you have, young Smithwalker," said Jeff. "What's up?"
"Thinking about a girl. A couple, actually."
"Oh dude, more than one? Don't even think about it. Go both, all of 'em. All at once. All the girls. You're young, you're hip, and chicks dig a guy who can sing. And who's like, open with his emotions and junk."
Steve perked an eyebrow up at Jeff. "You think I'm sensitive?"
"You cried when you had your legs broke, dude."
Steve went to open his mouth, just looking at Jeff blankly instead. Forget trying to compare pain - Jeff had been skinned alive before and was still alive to tell the tale. Maybe he had a point - Steve cared for Akiko, he was infatuated with her, and with Fran-girl's help, he'd have her. And all the others his mother could set his sights on. If he kept an open heart, treated his girls nicely, and pleasured them without stopping, then what was the worry?
"Jeff, your… Wisdom always comes in handy now and again. Ah, to live the zen life of a stoned never-was." Jeff rubbed Steve's shoulder in the creepy way that total strangers liked to do to him on the bus, a half-smile on his lips.
"...Y'know, I've always thought of you as a good friend, Steve. Like a really solid acquaintance."
"...We're inlaws Jeff. You live in my house."
"Oh yeah we do," Jeff chortled. "Man, what a crazy world we're livin' in."
"You… Haven't got much going on in your mind today, have you Jeff?"
Jeff shook his head. "Nah. But I've always wanted to be the weird older stoner hangin' around high school. It feels like I've met one of my life goals."
"Well, consider yourself accomplished," Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Looks like mom's gonna take forever. Wanna walk home?"
Jeff nodded. "You know it, broski. In-lawski. Bro-in-lawski."
(...)
"Wow, looks like someone's in a good mood today!"
Steve blushed, waving gently at Roger as Jeff slid in behind him, collapsing at the foot of the stairway. The weed hitting Jeff like a hammer to the temple. Roger was walking down the staircase, discarding a rubber chicken and yanking on a shirt. He was between costumes, eyeing Steve up and down, trying to pick just what seemed so different about him.
"What can I say, life's been good, Big Dipper!" Steve clicked his fingers, slinging his back off his shoulder as he relaxed, eyes on the prowl. "Hey uh, have you seen mom anywhere?"
"Ah, not since she came home dressed all slutty and smelling of sweat, but she's," Roger looked back, eyes narrowing, "I dunno, somewhere. Boy, you really are just all smiles today, huh?"
Thwack!
Steve's balls were rocked by the force of an alien punch, Roger's fist cracking those mighty nuts like a hammer to stone. Instantly the lad fell to his knees and cried out in pain, his whole body reverberating with an ungodly quake. He looked up, betrayed, blinking away angry tears.
"Ough! R-Roger, what the fuck!?"
The alien chuckled, slinging on a vest, throwing on a brown wig and slipping a tattoo sleeve up his arm, shaking his head.
"Steve, have you ever heard the story of Icarus?"
"Y-Yeah?"
Before Steve could even entertain the idea of Roger comparing him to some Greek fable, his testes were assaulted again, another punch landing in his crotch with a cold, whispered force. Roger, sighing as he slid into character, stepped over Steve's now prone body, a voice on the wind singing his persona's name.
"Curse you," Steve coughed, dry-heaving at the pain, "Ricky Spanish!"
"Shut up, Steve!" Yelled Hayley, lounging lazily as she threw some popcorn into her mouth and missed. She had discarded her normal black crop top and jeans, and replaced it with a pink bathrobe, the belt lazily laced. Her massive melons made mountains of soft flesh. "True Blood's on, and if I miss even one shirtless scene, it's your ass in the frying pan!"
"L-Like you know how to cook! Oomph!" Steve cried back, a thrown throw-pillow smacking against his face in retaliation.
"Ooh, ooh - this is the best part," Klaus clapped his fins together, circling his bowl with a squeal, "Sookie just keeps falling into these guys!"
On the verge of vomiting, Steve curled into the fetal position with a hand between his legs, carefully cupping his aching nuts. There was no greater pain - no greater throbbing, resonating, all-encompassing shock to his system that had hit so hard before. Even taking a kick to the head from Lewis paled in comparison to the testicular tectonic shift that had just rocked him - and there was no way he'd be up on his feet any time soon!
"Steve? Stevie, honey, is that you?"
And yet, Steve rose to his feet. Awkward, stumbling, and still rocked by a dulling wave of agony, he walked, lured by the siren-call of his mommy. The others completely ignored him as he shuffled from the room.
Maybe she could've kissed it better? The thought of Fran-girl tenderly smooching the big booboo on his balls was energising, a staunch buoy in the stormy ocean of cockshot-duress.
And oh, that sight was a cure in and of itself.
"There ya are! Geez, I'm sorry about the lack of a ride home today honey, but, as you can see," she motioned to her body, nude and resplendent, save for the high-heels, "Mama Smith had some cookin' to do."
"M-Mom," Steve stuttered, "Klaus and Hayley a-are right in the living room… Ah, fuck it, j-just turn around!"
Francine giggled, obliging, showing off her poundable mound of ass flesh. She wiggled and bounced a little. Making them cheeks clap, almost like she was waving at him. Steve had it tough today, so she was more than willing to let him hit it, but shock hit her as his hands trailed all the way down her thighs and calves. Before she could protest, she felt a hot wet lick against her asshole. It demanded entrance, and she relaxed into the tongue's molten caress, one hand desperately grabbing the kitchen counter to steady herself.
"G-God, y-y-you're eager, huh?" Francine laughed, an internal heat flushing to her cheeks, both sets. Steve's face was buried in her butt, tonguing her insides with long licking strokes. "Who the h-hell t-taught you this?"
"Mmwah," Steve huffed as he separated from his mom's ass, giving the butt a solid smack. A thin trail of saliva connected his lips to that winking, quivering butthole. "Porn, mom! An ass this good needs worship, and you can't just be sitting on it all day, I need to be fucking you in it!"
"I-Is that right?" She asked, stirring a pan with a freshly reduced sauce, trying her darndest to not cum so easily to the anal exploration. "Did they teach you anything else in school today? Or just how to flatter your mama?"
His hands slid from her calves to her hips, those blazing trails making Francine shudder. Every part of her wanted her son, but her womb begged for him the most. She wanted, needed nothing more than the full explosive might of his loads inside her, to feel his hot cum firing in the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy.
"Yeah," Steve chuckled, leaning into Francine's ear as he hugged her body against his. With a quick zip, Francine yelped as she felt that monster mush against her bush. "I was taught just how good a pussy could feel when I earnt it. All the struggle just made it better."
Francine was blushing now - Steve's way with words was always sweet, but never this sultry. And her son's growing confidence was making her heart go ba-bump. She bucked, grinding her dripping lips against the veiny roof of his prick, biting her lip as she looked down at its precum-dribbling tip. It made her mouth water, her whole body cry in need as they teased one another.
"Have you earnt it now?" Francine asked, moaning as Steve nibbled on her ear, his hands roaming and groping her tits, her hips and ass. Her nipples rubbed little groves against his hands. Her breasts felt like hot coals dancing on his fingertips. She could feel his smile as his cock slipped from her labia, and expected fully to be fucked, her cunt pounded into dust.
"No," Steve chuckled. "Not yet. But you've been slaving over a hot stove, mom - you need a little treat yourself!"
He was too quick, too sly for Francine's expectations. His tongue was back inside her ass before she could gasp, and she caught that breath in her throat, coughing a bit as two fingers slid into her cunt as well. Her boy was ravenous, and her body was ready to be ravished, a meal for her man!
Steve pulled his tongue out and gazed lovingly at his moms ass. Like the rest of her, it was chiselled perfection. Round and full with a hint of cellulite, not a hint of sag on those lovely cheeks. They were like volleyballs coated in meat! He leaned forward and bit one, his teeth sinking in, just deep enough to get her yelping and squirming. Her blush was something a high schooler would have. Not a distinguished woman of the suburbs!
Francine's breath caught in her throat. His tongue was back inside of her. His fingers playing with her soft sex. Her grunts were deep, from the very bottom of her lungs.
"You right mom?" Hayley asked from the living room, not bothering to look away from the TV. She tossed another handful of popcorn in her mouth. Over half dripped down her chest and sank between her titties. "You choking?"
"I'd rather be choking on your cock," Francine whined to Steve as he munched her butt, fingers drenched as his shirt became soaked. The heat of the stove clashed awfully with the heat of Francine's own desire, and sweat began to bead down her body. "I-I'm fine sweetie, just… J-Just, ooh, cooking the shit outta these steaks!"
"Fuck yeah," Hayley hollered. "It's a non-vegan cheat day for me so the Hayl-storm is ready to eat the ass outta some steaks! What kinda sides have you got with that, mom?"
Francine thanked god that Steve's grip had improved - she relied on him to keep steady, her ass shuddering as his fingers dug into her hips. His biceps strained as he struggled to keep her up, his neck muscles standing out as he worked his tongue upwards."J-Just some f-fucking fries and oh~, uh, g-green beans sweetie!"
"Oh hon hon," Hayley laughed, throwing on a french accent as she leant further back into the couch, "steak frites and le beans? Francine you culinary slut, I can't wait to devour this bitch!"
Steve had blocked the conversation out - but hearing his mom try vainly to keep up appearances was a mark of pride to him. His tongue had probed, licked, and fucked every inch of ass that was accessible to its length, and his fingers felt wrinkled with how wet she was. But it wasn't a full treat unless it was a full release - so he came up with an idea.
"Mmwah," Steve laid a kiss upon that asshole, heaving a hot breath against it, "this ass is mine, mom!"
He stood, cock rigid against his chest, and twisted his fingers inside her cunt, rearing his hand back for a powerful slap. The crack of hand to butt was like thunder, echoing through the Smith house in time with a musical stinger from the TV, and so too did its sting echo through Francine's body. Suddenly she couldn't hold anything back, and squirted, falling back into Steve's arms as he continued to finger her, riding the wave of her breaths to extend that orgasm.
Her hair was hanging damp against her forehead. Loose golden strains curled down to her nose. Tickling it. Her eyes widened and her chest heaved. She had never once experienced a kinky orgasm like that before! Sure she'd fucked in every room in the house… But this was the sort of orgasm that they wrote songs about!
"H-Holy… Holy fuck," Francine whispered, looking up at her son with stars in her eyes. They kissed one another as Hayley and Klaus cheered in the living room, eyes still glued to the show.
"How does your own ass taste, mama?" Steve purred.
"It'd go better with your cum," she whined, body still begging to be bred. Francine took a moment or two to compose herself, kissing Steve again to taste him, to clear her mind of that body-rocking climax. She stood up and then collapsed into his arms. Her knees were little more than jelly. The smell of cooking steak wafted through the house. Some sizzling fat jumped out from the pan and darted up and down her already sore ass. She couldn't feel it though. She could only feel his chest under her palm and his lips locked onto hers.
"Clean yourself up," Steve commanded, "after dinner, I'll catch you this time mom, I swear."
Francine nodded, not trusting her voice. Her womb prayed that he'd find her, catch her, pin her, then annihilate her. "L-Love you, sweetie."
"Love you too, mom."