All in the Name of Art

"There's that. But it's not only that. I mean, these are glamour shots, and it's kinda weird to see you in those, you know what I mean?"

She chuckled. "Hm-hm. To be honest, it's the same for me - I see myself, but it's not me, you know? But it's really fun to take these shots, makes me feel sexy. (she giggled) And so, besides the nudity, do you think it works?"

"Yeah, it does. I mean, it's really impressive, the way it works. It's nearly scary, the way you're kind of... invading my tumblr, you know?"

"Well, it was kind of what I was aiming at. And I think I'm getting better at it, I am now able to get very close to the original. There's still the issue of the animated gifs that I have to look into, but I talked to Mike about it, and he said he had something that converted short videos to gifs. So I should be okay on that front too."

"Does Mike know about the project?"

"I gave him a very general pitch. how I wanted to reproduce the layout of a tumblr, replacing the pictures with mine, something like that. You know, I usually don't like to talk about my projects before they are fully formed..."

I frowned. "But you've told me all about it, right?"

"Well, it seemed only fair, considering I was going to... use you, as part of the project." She smiled, somewhat sheepishly. "And by the way, I'd like to use you a little more. It would mean a lot to me."

I hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for most of the pictures, I have all the props I need, so it's not a problem. But there's this one, for instance, where I could really use your help."

I looked at the picture she was pointing at on the screen. It was an artistic shot, in black and white. A man in a suit was sitting in a leather armchair, and had his right hand on the head of a very naked woman, who was on her knees next to him. They were looking at each other, and the picture radiated sexual tension. I swallowed.

"It's a very nice picture, but... Mom, don't you think it'd be weird for us to...?"

She smiled. "Baby, it's just a picture. It's like play-acting, but for a single pose. The picture tells a story, or at least alludes at one, but it doesn't mean the models have to be part of that story, you see? Sure, it sometimes helps if they do, but that's not what I'm pursuing there."

"Hm, okay. But are you sure you want me for that shot? I certainly look nothing like this guy..." Considering what my mother was doing with this project, I knew it was a very weak argument, but I had to give it a try. Mom shook her head.

"Chris, you're mistaking the objective of this project. It's not about resemblance, it's about similarity. Which is very different. But I can understand that you'd feel a little apprehension helping me with that kind of shot. But think about it, please? I'd really appreciate you giving me a hand, and I also think it'd bring yet another dimension to the project."

I was a bit puzzled. "What do you mean?"

She pouted. "Hm, I don't have a clear explanation yet, but it feels right to me, to try and involve you in another way in this, besides your providing the original material. It just seems like a collaboration of sorts is better with this project, maybe. Anyway, I'd really like to try and shoot that picture tomorrow, if you decide you can, but I don't want to push you. So baby, think it over, sleep on it and tell me your decision in the morning, okay?"

I promised her I would, and our discussion turned to more mundane topics. But the idea of that picture stuck in my mind - only with me in the armchair, and Mom naked on her knees. And I knew I'd eventually agree to help.

* * * * *

When I woke up the next morning, Mom had already gone out for the weekly shopping. I often tagged along to help her carry all the bags, and I rather liked those shared moments - and I'm sure Mom did too. She called me 'the man of the house' and praised me for bringing some brawn to go with her brains, and I could tell she enjoyed finding some kind of order and normality in a life that had been seriously shaken by the divorce and the bad blood that still remained. I only saw Dad once or twice a year, and I'd describe our relationship as strained at best - every time I had stayed more than a couple of days, things had turned sour and harsh words had been exchanged. Mom and I had rebuilt something of our life together, like a little bubble, and we did our best to stay in it.

Which meant that even if I felt very ambiguous about her project (and not the least because I definitely was turned on by it), I wanted to help and support her in this endeavor. Her previous exhibitions had been interesting, but sometimes lacked a little focus to really make them impactful, and I had the impression that there was something much more potent this time. Even the nudity was different from the revealing self-portraits she had done in the past. There was this raw energy here, something that claimed self-confidence and an undeniable presence - she definitely owned these shots, in a way she had rarely owned her work before.

So when she came back from her shopping trip, I was waiting for her and I helped her unloading the groceries from the car. "You should have woken me this morning, I'd have come and helped you."

She smiled. "You're helping me now, baby."

"Yeah, but still..."

"Well, you were sleeping late, and I know how rare that is, so you certainly needed the extra hours."

She was right, as I was usually an early bird, so I left the conversation at that. As we were putting everything in the kitchen, Mom surprised me. "So, have you made up your mind?"

"Erm, about what, Mom?"

"The project, silly. How can you ask that question, don't you know your old mother?" she chuckled.

I shook my head. "I do know you, Mom. But for once, maybe, I was hoping you didn't have such a one-track mind..."

She smiled. "Yadda yadda yadda. Quit stalling, young man. I asked you a question..."

"Yes."

"So?"

"That's my answer, Mom. Yes, I'm going to help you. I..."

I couldn't finish my sentence, as Mom had suddenly jumped and caught me in a breath-depriving hug. Luckily, she let go of me before I started turning purple as she started babbling: "Oh baby, you don't know how happy I am that you agreed, it's so great, I was really hoping you'd say yes, you know I'm really excited about this project and I want to go 100% at it, and I was worried at the beginning, especially when you said you weren't comfortable about it, and that you would decide to help me, that means so much to me, and..."

I smiled, and eventually managed to break what was seriously threatening to become some sort of incoherent ramble: "Mom, it's okay. I know how important this project is to you, and I think you really have something with this one, and even if I am not entirely comfortable with it, I want to help you as much as I can. Though I don't think there's much I can bring to the table, you know?"

It was her turn to smile: "Oh, don't underestimate yourself, baby. I'm sure you're going to help me plenty."

I shrugged. "I hope so."

"Well, I was thinking I'd try and get a few pictures done after lunch. Care to join me then? I'll need you in a suit, remember?"

I nodded, and we started putting together something to eat.

* * * * *

After cleaning off the table and putting the dishes to soak in the sink, I went upstairs to take a shower and put on my suit. I owned only one, and wasn't much for wearing it. There was the excessive formality of it, but also the distinct impression that it made my ass look big - we all have our little insecurities. At least, it wouldn't show in the picture. I checked myself in the mirror one last time, and I went downstairs to the basement.

I was familiar with the place - Mom had it transformed into a small studio a while ago, complete with the white walls and a set of curtains that could be pulled to instantly change the mood of the small set. There was a big chest in a corner, full of various props (including numerous pairs of glasses, outlandish clothes, toy guns, silk flowers and more). Yet, it was still Mom's space in the house, and it had been quite some time since I had visited there. She was busy on her laptop, which was propped on a stool by the camera tripod. When I came closer the reason for this arrangement became clear: the laptop's screen was split in two, with the reference picture on the left, and the camera's output on the right, thus allowing Mom to make sure she was reproducing the pose accurately enough. That certainly explained why the latter pictures she had taken were so close to the original.

Mom seemed satisfied with the camera angle, and smiled at me. "Hey baby."

"Hey Mom. So, are we set up?"

"Not right away. There are a couple of pictures I wanted to take before we get to the one I was thinking of."

"Do you want me to come back a little later then?"

"No, the point of those shots is to give you the opportunity to relax a little. I know how people can get tense, and that always shows in the picture, you know? So take a seat (indicating the armchair in the corner) and feel free to ask me whatever you want to."

I sat down, a little apprehensive, while Mom went on to explain her set-up (confirming what I had already figured out) and detailing the little adjustments she was making, moving back and forth from the computer to the mark on the floor that indicated the center of the small set. She was wearing a light robe, her long hair held in place by a slender chopstick, and she had a very focused look on her face. Mom was certainly not kidding around with this project. Eventually, she seemed satisfied and she flashed me a smile: "Shall we?" I shrugged back, not really knowing what to say - and barely managed to refrain from gasping as she dropped the light robe in one swift movement, standing before me naked except for a pair of black tights, that went up to her waist. She winked at me, then went to stand on the spot. Checking the display on the laptop's screen, she practiced the pose she wanted (standing, her back slightly towards the camera, holding a white towel to her chest), took a breath, smiled again in my direction, then looked back at the objective and tensed a little. There were three long seconds, and I heard the shutter close numerous times in close succession. Mom let the towel drop and moved towards the computer, squatting in front of it, checking the pictures she had just taken. I heard her mutter: "Okay, that one is good," and she selected another picture to begin her little routine again. That picture used also the same tights, but with the girl sitting at the edge of some kind of a leather seat, legs crossed, one hand on her knee and a finger of the other against her lips, looking to the left of the picture. The pose seemed to be somewhat problematic for Mom, as she didn't seem to get it exactly right.

"What is the matter, Mom?" I asked, my mouth a little dry - she was quite a sight, and seeing her this way was much more troubling than I had thought, even more so than just looking at her pictures. She nearly grunted back, then chuckled.

"I have something of a problem with this one. She's not as... endowed as I am, which means that if I take exactly the same pose, I'm going to be spilling tits all over the place. Which is not the effect I want. So it's a matter of positioning my arms to somewhat reproduce her pose, while keeping 'the girls' in check." She smiled, and continued. "Sorry to get so technical on you, baby."

I tried to take it lightly. "No worries, Mom. Wardrobe issues, I get it."

She giggled, and adjusting her arm: "Okay, I think I got this one. Give it a look and tell me what you think."

I stood and walked behind the camera, and she laughed. "Not like that, silly - on the laptop screen. It's the reference that counts." I slapped my forehead, and stepped around the tripod to look at the display. The pose was not exactly the same (as indeed, Mom had an abundance of goods surpassing that of the girl in the picture), Mom was a brunette while the girl was a bleached blonde, but yes, it worked fine. "Looks good, Mom," I said, turning around - and I heard the rattle of the shutter. Mom stood up, passed me by and squatted again to check the results. "Thanks, baby. Yeah, that's another good one. Okay, last one, and then you're up." She looked up at me and smiled. Suddenly, I wasn't as relaxed anymore. Some sort of stage fright, or maybe it was just my discomfort about the project that came back nagging me.

The next pose was a standing nude - so Mom took off her tights, and pushed the leather seat away. The girl in the picture was standing facing the right of the camera, with her arms around her back and looking straight at the objective. Again, Mom was definitely more voluptuous than the girl, but this time it wasn't an issue, as the pose was fairly straightforward. Which means that it didn't take long for it to be recreated - and that meant my turn was up.

* * * * *

Let me be clear: I felt incredibly tense. To begin with, the sight of my naked mother taking on sexy poses definitely did not leave me unfazed, and my cock had been rock-hard in my pants as soon as she had gotten out of her light robe for the first shot. Thankfully for my remaining somewhat decent, I had taken the precaution to position my cock vertically, the head held right under the waistband of my boxer shorts. While it was a little uncomfortable considering my current state, there was no visible tent nor excessive bulge visible under the thin fabric of the suit. Furthermore, I generally hated being in front of a camera, something that added to my stress now.

Mom asked me to help her move the armchair to the center of the little stage. She was still fully naked, and even if I did my best not to look in her direction, I inevitably caught numerous glimpses of her dangling breasts, which didn't help with my general discomfort. Fortunately, my role in the shot was just to be seated - which I did right away, and waited while Mom busied herself to check the angle of the shot and all sorts of technical details, correcting my pose, adjusting the lighting and testing where she would have to kneel. And of course, all this ballet was done in a flurry of jiggling tits and bouncing ass. Eventually, Mom kneeled next to the armchair, turned towards me, I put my hand on her head, we looked at each other, her eyes in mine, a warm smile on her face, probably something more tense on mine - and the shutter clicked.

Mom stood up and went to the computer, then called me to come and look at the result. She had picked up the light robe, but remained naked next to me as I browsed through the five pictures she had taken. They were imperceptibly different, and they were in color where the original shot was in black and white, but again, the resemblance was undeniable. I was struck not only by how luscious Mom appeared in the shot, but also by the sheer sensuality that exuded from it.

"So, what do you think?" asked Mom, still holding the robe in her hand.

"Wow. I mean, wow. (she smiled) It's nice, really..."

"And sexy as hell too. (she gave me a peck on the cheek) Thanks a lot, baby, you were perfect."

"I didn't do much, really."

"Well, you definitely were in the right mood for this, and you can't imagine how important that is. That's what makes the difference between a good shot, and a great shot. Great shots are inhabited, you know? They live, they tell a story. And this, my dear, is a great shot. So thank you."

"Any time, Mom..." I replied, automatically.

She smiled. "I might take you up on the offer, you know." She put the robe back on.

"I'll do my best, Mom."

I helped her push the armchair out of the way again, she then took the laptop and brought it to her desk. When I left, she was busy updating her version of my tumblr with the new pictures, humming to herself. I went upstairs to my room to change. My cock was still hard, the head pointing North of the waistband and literally dripping precum, leaving a wet spot on the shirt. I quickly went to the bathroom, where it took me only a few strokes to bring myself to climax, and splatter the porcelain with long strands of cum. I felt dizzy and exhausted, but I still couldn't push the sight of my naked mother out of my mind.

* * * * *

That evening, Mom summoned me to the living room. She had set up her laptop on the table, and told me to sit next to her.

"I wanted to give you an update on the project. Considering you're an integral part of it, in many ways now (she smiled), it's only fair, right?"

"Sure", I said, trying to look cool and detached.

She pulled Mike's program, and we browsed through the first few screens of my tumblr and her version side-by-side. I'd say she had recreated about 90% of the pictures, except for the animated gifs and some of the more graphic stuff (including a set of blowjob pics and one animated titfuck). Our picture was there too, in black and white, and I was still amazed by the intensity that radiated from the shot. To be honest, all of the shots had this same intensity, and I really understood what Mom meant when she spoke of "inhabited pictures". My cock stirred again in my pants.

"So?" Mom asked, apprehension in her voice.

"It's... it's great, Mom. Really. I can't believe you've taken so many already..."

"You know how I am, when I start something, I go at it 100%."

"So I see." I browsed further down, spotting the other pictures she had taken today, seeing more gray areas, until I got to a point where it was all gray areas.

Mom frowned. "Yeah, there's quite a lot of work remaining..."

I smiled. "I can imagine. I passed the 1500 mark a while ago."

"True. But there are not 1500 pictures on your tumblr. (I raised an eyebrow, she giggled) There are a few which you posted more than once. Interesting too, to see which ones get this special treatment..."

I blushed - I had indeed noticed, once or twice, that I reposted a picture that I already had up on my tumblr, and those were usually of the messier kind. "Erm, are there many of those?"

"You mean, the reposted pics? Quite a few. There's one that appears five or six times, I think, though you can be excused as there is a color version, a black and white version, and I think one that was reframed. You must have really loved it," she chuckled.

I shook my head. "I plead guilty. What was the pic in question?"

"Don't look so mortified, baby... (she giggled) Let me see... here, that's the one." The picture was showing the bottom half of a face, mouth open and tongue extended, a long strand of cum hanging from the tip, and below the breasts squeezed together by the arms on each side, also splattered with cum. Mom giggled. "And I guess there's also this one that you particularly like..." This time, it was a bust shot of a blonde, with her red top undone and her breasts exposed, mouth open towards a hard cock pointing from the left, a large dollop of cum hanging from her waiting tongue, with a strand still attached to the cockhead. I blushed bright red.

"Something of a recurring theme there," Mom laughed, then gave me a hug. "Oh baby, don't worry, I'm not making fun of you. That would be so unfair on my part, considering I'm the one who insisted on using your tumblr as the basis for my project. I'm just... curious, I guess, at what it lets me learn about my own son, you know?"

"Yeah, and think I'm some kind of pervert..."

She cut me off. "Absolutely not. Don't even start to think that of yourself. Baby, one, it's normal to have fantasies. You're an adult male, and I would definitely be worried if you didn't. And two, as I've said before, I like your tumblr, it's more erotic than porn, and the porn there is on it doesn't faze me at all. So, I don't want to ever hear you use that word to refer to yourself again, other than that there's nothing to worry about, okay?"