Rick Gets Nudged

So, the next chapter of Helen's Journey (The Last Futa Romantic) is proving the hardest to write; it's the shortest one of the planned series, and yet - it's just not coming out right... So I've decided to publish the following as filler; it was actually an early version of Terry's story, before I started heaping all of the mythology on, and closer to my original intention, which was to do a nobodyinparticular story, set in the "real" world.

After a bit (well, a lot) of putzing around at the beginning it's mostly sex stuff - futa-on-male, heavy-duty incest (mother-son, with dad egging them on). All characters are over 18 years old.

*

"Are you SURE we wanna do that, honey?"

Ashley Coleman sighed, exasperated. "Brian, we've been talking about it for weeks! We discussed it for 3 hours, last night! We agreed to DO this - what more do you NEED?!"

Brian Coleman leaned back in his chair, putting his mug on the table. Yeah, they've discussed this endlessly, but... "He's just a boy, Ash. Are we SURE this is the right thing?"

His wife leaned forward, her heavy breasts resting on the table. "Brian - he's almost 20 years old, you've GOT to stop thinking about him as a KID." She lowered her voice as they heard a door closing upstairs. "And no, I'm not SURE. We're parents, not scientists. We do what we've always done - which is what we think is BEST for our child."

He said nothing, taking a sip from his mug, but she could tell he was disturbed. He was an engineer, and needed everything to be checked and triple-checked, not moving forward without all variables covered. That was why he was so good at his job - but also why she was the one who had to take all the REALLY hard life decisions. There WERE no guarantees in life - not in dealing with other people, not in romance, certainly not in raising a child. But this one was pretty momentous, and she needed him on board - or there WILL be repercussions...

Their son, Rick, entered the kitchen. He looked at them, surprised.

"You taking the day off, mom?" Motioning with his head at her large football shirt, turning to get coffee.

Ashely looked at her husband, who raised his eyebrows resignedly.

"Change of plans, kid. You and mom will be staying home today, clear the garage out. You won't be able to fit two cars in there, soon, all that garbage has got to go."

Rick made a face and sat down at the table. Shit, spend a day inside that dumpster, sorting through all that garbage - that was not his idea of fun. Though, his mom WOULD be there, in casual clothes, MAYBE even in her cargo shorts, showing some skin... He gritted his teeth, trying to hide it by bringing the mug to his lips. Goddamit, you fucking perv - at least make an effort to pretend you're a normal human being!!! Here, make it sound like this is a chore, like any normal kid would:

"Why don't you get some company to do it? Just toss everything out..."

His father shook his head. "There are things we want to keep; that's why mom is doing it with you. Anyway, I figure half of it is your old comics and movie magazines - see if maybe there's something you want to keep."

Rick nodded. Fair enough. A thought struck him: "Hey - I'm still getting paid for the day, right? Because I'd rather go to the office!"

Which was true. Working at the family's construction coordination business, under his dad - the hardass ex-marine who could sometimes make The Great Santini look like Mike Brady - wasn't what he'd always dreamed of doing; but he DID quit film school after one year, and he came back - and he'd grown to like the job, spending time with and getting to know the dad he'd always admired - and the mom he was secretly fantasizing about... Well, he admired his mom, too - she was an architect and was very good at her job - but if he was being honest with himself, SHE was the main reason he was here...

His dad glanced at his wife, then nodded. "Yeah, what the heck. Half a day's pay."

Rick looked at his mom - and they both started to laugh. That was such a DAD move...

Brian Coleman looked at his wife and son, saying nothing. Those were the two people he loved most in the world - and he was now about to leave them, having no idea what he'll find when he comes back. God, I hope we made the right decision... He got up, put his mug in the washer, and came back to the table.

"Well, I'll leave you two comedians to it. Just get some work done between all the giggling." As he turned to go, he put his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed.

"You be good and listen to your mom, kid." He looked across the table at his beautiful wife, his eyes somber. Just... be careful. And gentle. He might be 20, but he's still a kid. OUR kid.

***

Rick watched his dad go out the kitchen door. There seemed to be something on his usually-very-confident dad's mind... "What was THAT all about?"

His mom shrugged "No idea. OK, I got some emails to answer - you start going through the magazines on the west wall, I'll be there in about 30 minutes."

As he turned to go, she called after him: "Better go switch to something lighter, it's gonna be a scorcher, today."

YES!

He went back up to his room and switched to shorts and a t-shirt. His dad made him wear something of a uniform - slacks, buttoned-up shirt, complete with a tie (even on days they were visiting construction sites); he had come to at least SEE his logic - people treat you the way you treat yourself - but it was still a nuisance... Hell - Steven Spielberg directed E.T. In jeans and a T! But! - he was back on his dad's turf, and on dad's turf there were only dad's rules. He actually liked his dad - which made it even more frustrating, carrying that huge, insane crash on his mom...

***

Working inside the garage was as bad as he had feared. He tried opening the doors, but it was already too hot, outside, and there was no wind on that side, so he closed it off and turned the air-conditioning on. It was a local unit, too small for the space, and he was sweating within minutes. What with his mom's hybrid parked inside and all the boxes, the large space felt really cramped. He looked up at the rows of boxes stacked up against the wall, and groaned. Damn, he would have much rather been at the office, practicing his questionable flirting skills on Nora, their perpetually-bored office manager... There was only one person who could appreciate his plight. He took a selfie, the boxes behind him, and sent it with the caption: "cleaning the garage, 108 degrees - wanna switch?" He knew that actually yeah, she would want to switch, she'd rather be anywhere other than where she was, now....

His cousin Laurie was counting the days till graduation - that day's report was 3 weeks, 4 days, 8 hours; she sent him a message with the updated time each day before going to school... She lived near Atlanta, and he didn't get to see her much, but she was starting school in Boston U. in the fall, and he was actually glad of the chance to see more of her. His mom didn't keep in touch with a lot of her family, but she seemed to like Laurie's mom - her cousin - and they did go to her son's wedding, last year. Laurie and him got to talking, and bonded over - of all things - their shared love of Twin Peaks and the new sequel, which then expanded to their hatred for the new president, and ecology, and more; come to think of it, they were spending a LOT of time chatting... Yeah, there was the ping, probably her. He raised the phone - and then looked over when he heard the side door opening, and his breath caught in his throat.

His mom was a large woman - he figured she was about 6', a bit taller than his dad, certainly much taller than his 5'7". She was 47, not exactly a spring chicken, and carrying more weight then she used to, but most of it was distributed in all the right places - her large, 36DD breasts, her big, perfectly-round ass, her thicc, shapely thighs - a large portion of which were now on display, as she seemed to only be wearing her 4XL football shirt. It reached to the middle of her thighs, and he sneaked a furtive look - no, IT wasn't showing... But those thighs - Jesus, a man could get lost between those... He gave himself a mental slap. ENOUGH!

She grimaced. "OH boy. Your dad WANTED to do this back in February, and I told him it was too cold... Did you try opening the doors?"

He nodded. "Yeah, too hot outside, worse than this."

She sighed. "Well, no one said this was going to be fun..."

There was silence for the next half-hour, as she was taking down boxes with documents from the large stack near one wall, sorting through them - some for scanning, the rest for shredding at the office and disposal. Rick was through with the comic books, which were easy to do - he had everything he wanted in paperback, and the comic books held no sentimental value for him. Trash! The movie magazines - Empire and Premiere, many of which were pretty old - were closer to his heart, but he HAD read all of them, and if he was to be honest with himself he was never going to read them again... He raised his eyes as his mom finished with another box and went over to the wall stack, to get another one. He watched her large buttocks swing inside the large shirt, the hem rising a little as she raised her arms to get another box, revealing a bit more of her shapely thighs. Just a little higher... He pulled the box of magazines almost violently, shoving the hard corner against his dick, hoping it will keep it down. No, not painful enough... December 2002, Best Bond Ever, 45 Best Rock 'N Roll Moments in Movie History... Arnie T3 Exclusive... Should he keep it? Think, man, think! concentrate on this, not on... Damn...

"Don't think too hard - just throw them all away."

He raised his eyes. "What?"

She put the box she was holding on the floor and straightened up. "You don't want to end up like uncle Seth." (her brother, the notorious hoarder). "His mantra always was: I might need this again, one day. Well, guess what?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, he never did. I know, I just... It would be like letting go of my childhood or something, you know?"

She looked at him - a little strangely, he thought - then shrugged. "Well, sometimes you just have to take the jump, you know?"

He nodded, tossing the issue back into the overflowing box. Trash! He looked up at the wall near to him. 4 boxes of comics, 3 of movie magazines - off with their heads. Next up - 5 large boxes of his old toys, and then who knows how many boxes of old clothes...

"I think we can just take this whole side out. And we need to find where we can donate it, it's all good stuff, lots of people who could use this. Maybe I'll go up to my room and do a search..."

She nodded. "Yeah, good idea. Let's take them out, dad could bring Allen's pickup and take them."

He checked mentally to see that his boner was under control - didn't want to get up and present his mom with his tenting shorts! - and stood up. He picked up the magazine box - very heavy, but, hell, he needed to work out a little - and went to the front side door. He had to put the box down, open the door, pick the box up and take it outside. He came back in, his breathing heavier - and stopped in his tracks.

His mom was taking her shirt off, exposing her amazing upper body. She was wearing a strapless, yellow bikini bra, a wonder of construction that somehow managed to contain her magnificent rack, succulent flesh overflowing the confines of the tiny-looking cups. He knew she wasn't wearing her cargo shorts, which reached almost down to her knees, but what she WAS wearing was even more erotic than the tiny bra.

It was a pair of Daisy Dukes - the tiniest size possible, barely able to contain her sexy little tummy and those overflowing buttocks. But those specific pants were tasked with containing so, SO much more. He watched, mesmerized, taking in the sight: the large, smooth balls, peeking out on each side, rolling down on her smooth thighs, slightly pale against her golden skin. And IT, the piece de resistance: his mother's cock, 5 or 6 inches of thick, succulent girl-meat, poking upwards from the tight pants, making a deep dent in her soft tummy, the dark mushroom head bottom presented for his viewing pleasure...

His mom put her shirt on the hood of her car, and looked at him innocently. "I hope you don't mind this, sweetie. It's hot as hell, and we have some heavy lifting to do..."

He nodded dumbly, feeling dizzy. Mind?? Why would he mind? That was absolutely normal - a mother showing off her junk for the benefit of her (still officially in his teens) son. What could be wrong with that? He found his voice: "Yeah, sure... But, you think you can go out like that? I mean..."

She waved her hand. "I'll bring the boxes to the door, you take them out, put them against the wall. Com'n, let's get started. Dad's going to be here for lunch, and I want him to take as much away as possible."

They started carrying boxes out, Rick doing his best to avoid looking at his mom. He had seen her cock, before. The few times the family vacationed at the seaside, she'd wear a sarong on her waist, hiding her most unusual assets; people were too busy ogling her boobs to pay much attention to her nether regions, anyway. But at their hotel suite he had caught glimpses of it, the fat cock, those perfect balls... He never mentioned it, and they never talked to him about it. It was just... there. Absolutely normal - and also strange and slightly terrifying. He was always sneaking looks, trying to see signs of the tell-tale bulge; she was very good at hiding it, but he knew it was there, he could almost feel it calling out to him, trying to pull him into its gravitational field... But there was no hiding the sounds coming from his parents' bedroom across the corridor - the creaking bed, his father's moans, his mother's animal-like grunts... He bit his lips, trying not to think of all the long hours he had spent laying on his bed, jerking off furiously to the sounds of his parents' love-making... He was almost 20, he was a grown-ass MAN, that was all BEHIND him. grown-ups don't treat this the way kids do. Hell, he heard that in France and Germany and Scandinavia or wherever families would go to nudist beaches together - seeing your mom's massive cock would be the most natural thing...

"Rick!"

He turned, startled. His mom was standing in front of him, holding a large box, filled with magazines, giving him a worried look. He noted the bottom half of her massive testicles, peeking from underneath the box, and her heavy breasts, laying on top of the box. Fuck - those babies must weigh like a ton. And the box itself must have been at least, what - 15, maybe 20 pounds? Just how strong WAS she?

"Aww!"

She was holding his arm, her grip actually hurting him. She released him, and smiled.

"Sorry, Ricky, you were daydreaming. Are you OK?"

Am I OK... He shook his head. How do you answer that? He realized he was holding a box - a heavy box - and put it down on the floor, grunting. No, I'M NOT OK, mom. There's something I need to do. NOW. He wiped his brow, looked at the stacks lining the wall. Well, I can't be of much use like THAT, can I? I'll go up, do what I have to do, come back, try again. He moved back, trying not to look at her.

"No, I have to go, Ok? I need to... I need to go to the bathroom, then I'll check the web, call Goodwill, or the Salvation Army..."

His mom shook her head. "Let's finish moving all that stuff, then we'll start with the calls."

He shook his head, almost violently. "Look, mom - I just need to go. I'll be back in 20 minutes, OK? Just... I'll be back soon."

He almost ran to the door, his mom's eyes following him, thoughtful.

***

He was laying on his bed, eyes closed, pulling furiously at his dick, when he heard the door opening. He opened his eyes in shock, looking at the tall, voluptuous figure standing in the doorway.

"Mom! Don't you KNOCK?!" He threw away his sock, then grabbed his shirt from the floor, hastily trying to cover his cock.

His mom said nothing. She came in, pulled the chair from the desk, and sat down near his bed, looking at him steadily. He turned away and laid on his side, staring at the wall. His greatest fear had been realized: he was caught red-handed, his biggest secret was out. His mother knew. There was no way he could wriggle his way out of this, it was too obvious, there was no point in trying to deny it...

So - why was he feeling... relief?

She spoke after a moment, her voice low, calm. "That was a dirty trick to play on you, I know. I'm sorry. But we had to know for sure."

He was quiet for a moment, then, quietly: "Know what?"

He flinched as he felt her hand on his arm, stroking it lightly. She squeezed it, softly, reassuring him. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. "That you have the hots for your mom."

He was expecting it, but, still, having it said out loud made him freeze. Her hand traveled up his arm, stroking, squeezing gently, lovingly. He cleared his throat and said: "2 weeks ago dad told me that it's OK if I wanted to bring a boyfriend home, if I had one, it was fine. Now you think..."

"That you have a crush on me, yes. I don't 'think' - I know it."

He decided to try. "And you make this astounding assumption, based on...?"

"Rick - look at me."

He stared at the wall, stubbornly. No...

"So, you can't even look at me. What does this tell us?"

He snorted. "Well, maybe I'm just embarrassed? Doesn't that make sense? You come down, with all... well, with everything OUT..."

"And you react by running up to your room to jerk off."

Well, he tried. He turned around, looking up at her face, trying to avoid looking at her body. "Mom - what do you want me to say? I don't think you can BLAME me, right? It's not like I WANTED to turn out this way...!"

Her face was serious. She brushed back a lock of light-brown hair from her eyes, and he couldn't help but note the ripple it sent through the large breast on that side. Oh god, he wanted so much to touch it...

"Ricky - there's no question of "blame". We are who we are, and things happen. A lot of young men develop romantic feelings towards their mother at various stages of their youth, it's natural. Usually it comes to nothing..."

"Mom, I want to FUCK you!" He almost shouted it, and it felt good to let out. He pressed on, trying to ride the moment, let it all out. "You think that's NORMAL?!

I love you, I Love dad, you were always great parents - but I want to have SEX with you! I want to suck your COCK!! How am I supposed to DEAL with that?!"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Ricky. Dad didn't want to believe it, but I knew. We TRIED to keep everything normal, but..." She bit her lip, and looked down. "All those years - night after night - hearing me fucking dad..."

Rick looked away. "You guys ARE pretty loud..." he mumbled.

She took his hand, holding it with both her hands, closer to him, her overflowing breasts close, so close to his face. "Sex between two adults is the most beautiful thing in the world - but it's not something that you can really process as a child. There are just things you shouldn't have to..." She squeezed his hand again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry we didn't do a better job of shielding you."

He looked into her eyes - beautiful, hazel eyes, above the small nose and the full lips that he had to stop himself from touching... "It's done, mom. Water under the bridge. What do I do NOW?"

She was silent for a moment, looking at him intently, as if debating with herself, one last time. When she spoke, her voice was level, almost emotionless.

"In my family, when a boy came of age, it was the mother's duty to initiate him. Your dad and I thought we could raise you up differently." She let go of his hand and stood up, and he was suddenly aware of her great stature, as she seemed to block out the room. He watched, slack jawed, as her hands went backwards, then his mouth slowly turned an 'O' shape, as her tiny bra slid down her body, her full, heavy breasts falling forward, her dark nipples erect. She smiled as she saw his reaction, and put her hand out.