(All characters are 18 or older; Richard is a very sheltered high-school senior. Those interested in my fan club should reach me via my contact page)
It was the morning that changed my life forever. It started normally enough. I got up and brushed my teeth, showered, spent too long toying with what to do with my long brown hair before finally setting on putting it back into a simple pony-tail. I caught my reflection as I held it up, my arms behind my head, a real cheesecake pinup girl pose. I could have been one of those. Even now at 36 I didn't have a wrinkle, my blue eyes have a certain intensity to them that even I can feel a bit, and my full-lipped smile is natural and easy.
Of course it's the GG cup breasts that would get me the modeling work if I wanted it. Oh calm down, big tits can happen to anyone, stare, deal with it, and move on.
I didn't need work though. My husband died young and wealthy and well insured, and his fortune was more than enough to support my beautiful downtown penthouse, my lavish wardrobe, and my strapping son, Richard, for several lifetimes. I'd give it all away to have him back though. I miss him.
It was rainy out, so today would be an indoor day. I bound my boobs up in a modest, functional blue bra, threw on some boy-short panties, and slacks and a sweater that did nothing to conceal my mind-bending curves.
As I cooked eggs and stirred batter for breakfast I thought of the previous weekend, when Richard had some friends over. I had to pull my son off of a boy at one point, struggling to somehow contain his fury and rage as he screamed, "YOU TAKE IT BACK! YOU TAKE THAT FUCKING BACK!"
His poor victim wouldn't have stood a chance of course... Richard somehow took everything I fed him and converted it into lean, strong muscle that layered his body like armor, well defined but not bulky, attractive, yet functional. I was lucky I got there quickly or he might have seriously hurt his little chum.
"What did he say that made you so mad?" I asked him when we were alone.
He looked down, and I almost had to stifle a laugh from how serious his face looked. "He called you a MILF."
"He called me a milk?" I blinked in confusion.
"No, a MILF. It's... it's a bad word."
"What does it mean?" I asked, still not getting it.
"It stands for, Mom I'd Like to..." He trailed off.
"What would you like to do, honey?"
"Fuck."
"RICHARD!?" I exclaimed. "Why would you like to do...oh...oh that's what he said. I understand now."
He looked relieved. "So I had to teach him some manners."
I laughed and stroked one of his corded shoulders.
"It's sweet that you want to stick up for me, but I find it more flattering than offensive. So your little friend desires me. So what? Makes me feel ten years younger."
"I'm sorry, Mom." He said, chagrined.
I only shook my head and gave him a hug, massive breasts smothered into his face in the seated position. That always seemed to relax him nicely.
I snapped back to the present as the toast popped and assembled Richard's large breakfast on a plate. Now it was time to wake the dear boy.
I walked over to the bedroom and creaked open his door. What I saw on the other side was what changed my life.
* * * *
Richard was asleep, sprawled on his back with one leg crooked up and one arm by his head. But something was wrong. Something was poking up, tenting his whole blanket. Curious, I crept into the room and made my way to the head of his bed, slowly lifting his blanket to peek at what strange pole was holding up this tent. I assumed that he might have taken one of his baseball bats to bed for some reason, so what greeted my eyes instead was a shock.
I'm sure I let out a gasp, and I know for certain that I stared at his monstrous member. It was huge! In all my years of an endless army of men throwing themselves at me I had never seen such a.... oh how could I call my boy's penis this? And yet what other name could serve but a giant, thick, veiny, COCK.
"COCK!" Oh fuck, I had said that part out loud and dropped the blanket as Richard woke up.
If he caught me peeking, he gave me no sign, only smiling, "Good morning mom." and beginning to sit up.
"G-good morning hung-y gwuh, buh, I mean honey. You sleep well?" He nodded and then realized he was sporting his massive morning glory, adorably reddening in his face and shifting to the side so that his magnificent cock rested flat against the bed, some what harder to see if you squinted or were blind. There was no hiding how much a man my little boy had become.
"Yeah Mom. What's for breakfast? I'm starved!" He rolled out of bed and stood, allowing me to shamelessly crotch-watch my son. Even soft his bulge dangled down long and thick all the way to his left knee, the head of it obvious and swinging while he walked. Where had he been hiding this monstrosity from me?
He was staring at me too, and it took me a few moments to realize why, blushing as I realized my nipples had sat up and at attention in my apparent lust. Lust? Was this what I was feeling for my own ridiculously well hung flesh and blood?
We sat down and ate. I nibbling my cantalope half daintily, anything to keep me from putting more fat on my tits, he wolfing down huge mouthfuls of meat, grain, milk and syrup.
I found my thoughts constantly drifting back to his cock. Shame burned in my brain, and I found that I began to justify it to myself... that clearly my daydreaming was just out of concern for him. The boy was downright abnormal. He'd need to be comforted. Educated. Perhaps even trained.
"Richie honey, we need to talk." I said as he polished off the last of his plate. He looked worried. "Is it about that math test? I'll do much better on the next one." He said, defensive already, and nervous.
"No, no baby. It's not that. Have you...have you ever felt like you're different from the other boys?"
