tagSci-Fi & FantasyHexed Ch. 03

Hexed Ch. 03


This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 or older. This story features my usual themes of Oedipal incest, exaggerated bodies, and copious fluids.


After she recovers, Mom showers alone. She lets me splash around in the sink. At first I am disappointed, but I see the logic in it. Whenever we're too close, explosive things happen. We both need a breather after the intensity of the kitchen.

Mom leaves me in the bathroom to get dressed, returning almost immediately, having donned a diaphanous white tank top with a flower pattern that hugs her every curve and shows her pale skin and pink nipples beneath. A loose pair of sweat-shorts hangs off her hips. Her hair is still wet and hangs down her back in long dark strands.

Mom smiles at the effect of her costume on me. She scoops me up and carries me down to the living room, depositing me on the couch. When I frown, she explains, "I have to clean up the kitchen before we go any further. Watch some TV. I won't be long."

Reluctantly, I flip on the television and watch a few programs, flipping through channels, not really finding anything. I'm sitting on the edge of the couch, legs dangling over the side, with the remote at my elbow, slamming buttons as the mood strikes me.

After what seems like an eternity, Mom saunters back into the living room. Her hair has dried, and looks a little frizzy, but she's tied it back from her face into some kind of bun or something. She stands behind the couch, looking over the back of it at me. I half turn and admire the view, the way her immense breasts fill the tank top, confined and supported but revealing everything. Mom smiles broadly. She plucks at the drawstrings on her shorts. I hear fabric moving, see Mom's hips shift as her legs move.

Mom climbs over the back of the couch, naked from the waist down, her huge, beautiful pussy wet and gleaming. She ends up kneeling on the center cushion, her creamy thighs framing my body. I look up into her pussy, and beyond to her softly rounded belly and thrusting breasts.

Mom chuckles, sultry and sexy, and scoops me up. Without preamble she swings me around so that my engorged dick is pointed at her moist vagina. She brings me close, smooshing my body against her. My cock penetrates, and I start swinging my hips involuntarily, jamming into her. With my hands I start banging against her clit, peeking out from its little hood. Mom moans, grinds me into her pussy.

Her hands shift, letting me hang upside down. My cock slips out of her warm, wet gash. She swings my knees up, so that my feet press against her lips. Slowly she eases me inside, up to my waist. I have to adjust my cock so that it points away from me and into her. Inside her my knees bend as Mom continues to push me into her. I sink in further, enjoying the warmth and moisture as her entire pussy swallows me. As my chest is swallowed, I wrench my right arm free, which elicits a hiss and hip jerk from Mom.

I reach out for her clit, rubbing and caressing it the best I can with one hand. At the same time, I attempt a modified frog kick with my legs. Mom's entire body shudders, and I feel her lips tighten around my chest. Her moisture soaks into my skin, drips down my pecs and onto my neck, trailing along the edge of my chin and across my cheeks to pool in my hair.

I expect to be pulled out and jammed back in, but Mom keeps me pinned. Her inner walls tighten and loosen around me, flexing, caressing my entire body. I press back against her with one arm and both legs, feeling her flesh give a little, expanding and contracting against my actions. Her scent is overpowering, sweet and salty and delicious. I lick her moisture from my lips, suddenly struggling to breathe as it flows over the lower part of my face. I suck it down, swallowing quickly, and take a shaky breath.

Mom's hips jerk back and forth. Beneath us, the couch cushion groans. Above me her breasts swing back and forth, immense and flexible tanks. I wish I could reach up and grab them, bury my face between them, lick their every expanse, suck on her nipples. I'd have to be normal size to do that, and we wouldn't be together if I were. Right?

I feel my climax approaching, and with it Mom's. Her contractions come faster and harder now. My body is compressed within her, and my struggles against her inner muscles grow more feeble. My cock is wedged between two folds of slick flesh, sawing between them. My hips twist, and I hit some sensitive spot, because Mom explodes at once, her pussy clamping down tight on me. Her shoulders hunch and her breasts hang down, swinging left and right in the confines of her tank top as her eyes shut and teeth clench and a long, low moan comes from her.

I explode as well, spraying rope after rope into Mom's sucking depths. My balls feel as if they are being squeezed, my cock feels like it is expanding, and the cum races up the barrel of my shaft to erupt with enormous force, splattering against that sensitive spot with each shuddering spurt. Mom's moan turns to a cry as her mouth drops open and her eyes squeeze shut even harder.

I empty myself in her, my ejaculation taking forever. Spurt after spurt spirals out of the head of my cock, filling her to the brim. Semen squeezes out from the edges of her lips, washing over my chest. My head swims, as hanging upside down the blood finally starts rushing to my head.

At last, Mom pulls me free with a sucking sound. I am coated neck to foot in semen and vaginal fluids. Our combined juices drip from Mom's gaping pussy onto the towel draped across the couch cushion. Mom lifts me up to breast level. She wears a satisfied smile.

"Mmmm," she says, "you need another bath." She proceeds to lick me clean, slurping up both her fluids and mine from my bruised and battered body. She cleans me thoroughly, sensuously, pausing now and then to swallow noisily. She makes contented noises and cooing sounds as she bathes me with her tongue, paying particular attention to my rampant cock and swollen balls.

When she's done, she slips my cock between her plush lips and coaxes me to another thunderous climax, so that I spray another epic load across her tongue and teeth and throat. She swallows greedily, moaning and humming, and cradles me to one titanic breast.

My mother has just used me as a sex toy and I loved every second of it.

Her other hand has been cupping her mound this entire time. What has dripped out of her vagina has pooled in her palm. She brings it up to her lips and licks it clean with cat-like satisfaction.

"Mmmm," she says. "I came in here to make a suggestion, but you looked so cute and irresistible sitting there, I just had to fuck you."

"You'll get no complaints from me."

She laughs. Her thumb teases my cock. "No doubt," she says.

"So... what were you going to suggest?"

"Oh!" she says, laughing once more. "I'd forgotten again. You're so good at distracting me. Anyway, what I meant to say was, we should have a fashion show."

Unless she's stashed a Barbie Dream House complete with Ken's wardrobe somewhere, I don't think I'm putting on any kind of show. So I ask, "And by 'we' you mean what exactly?"

She smiles a wicked smile, which makes her all the more beautiful. "Well, me of course. But I need an audience." She pokes me in the chest with a finger glazed in pussy juice. "That's where you come in, little man."

"I think that's in my wheelhouse. So what do you have in mind?"

She explains briefly, getting up from the couch and heading upstairs. She leaves her shorts behind, which means I literally don't know where to look. Up or down presents wonderful possibilities, and I find my neck getting a crick in it from whipping it back and forth.

Mom stops at the door to my room, opens it, and steps inside. I thought I had gotten used to being small in my own house, but the all too familiar trappings of my room remind me all over again that I am tiny. My twin bed is huge, as are the suitcases making a pyramid by my desk and computer. The posters of rock bands I barely even listen to anymore decorate the walls, as well as old little league trophies and a low bookcase filled with books from college. The curtains are drawn, but some of the midday sun leaks into the room. Mom sets me down on my bed and steps back.

"Wait here," she says. I admire the view as she turns to go and hurries from the room, her beautiful, curvy ass flexing attractively as she departs. She throws a knowing look over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall towards her bedroom.

I loose a low wolf whistle and settle down onto the comforter. I look around, but that makes my heart heavy and my head hurt, so instead I focus on the open door. I try to think how Mom will be dressed when she returns. It takes some time for her to do so. Eventually, I start to get bored. My eyes wander around the room.

The surreality of my situation strikes me like a sledgehammer once again. The house is familiar enough, but I have largely been spending my time in family space and my mother's space. This room, however, is my space. My room. My size in relation to it is one thing, what Mom and I are about to do in here is another. It's wrong and right at the same time.

Just as I begin to wonder if I'll ever be normal again, the floorboards in the hallway creak, announcing Mom's approach. I immediately brighten, give my cock a quick stroke, and get ready.


Mom steps into the doorway and strikes a pose, head slightly down, one arm raised to the door lintel, left leg forward, right leg turned and bent at the knee.

She wears a pair of white, four inch heels that raise her incredible height, and add definition to her calves. Her legs are encased in tight black hose that travels all the way up her long, long legs to terminate at her thighs, where they are decorated with little pink bows. The band is tight against her skin, required no tapes, and revealing yards of creamy skin. A pair of diaphanous black boy-shorts hugs her hips and molds against her barely concealed pussy. Her midriff is bare, as the purple blouse she wears is unbuttoned, tied up beneath her breasts, and open at the throat, revealing the black bra she wears, barely containing her titanic tits. The sleeves of her blouse are rolled up as well, leaving most of her arms bare save for a silver bracelet that dangles off her left wrist. Mom's long black hair is tied into two pigtails, which bare her lovely neck, and hang over her chest, tied at the ends with pink ribbon. She has left a tuft of bangs to hang over her forehead and almost cover her left eye. Subtle makeup enhances her natural beauty, but it is the sultry smile she wears that gets me heart pounding.

Mom stands in the doorway for long moments, framing the space, shifting her body in little ways to add emphasis to different parts of her anatomy. She leans forward to flash an acre of cleavage, stretches both arms overhead to thrust her breasts out further, makes a quarter turn and leans over to show off the arc of her springy ass.

Mom licks her lips and winks at me. She bats her eyelashes, but can't contain an immediate laugh. "What does my little man think?"

"You look fucking gorgeous," I say. I can't keep from giving my cock a few strokes. It's so hard and ready, and she's so far away. I could leap across the room and clamber up her perfect form, but somehow I sense this is not part of the game.

"Mmm, yes Robbie, stroke yourself for Mommy," she says. She turns, reaches out onto the floor in the hall for something, and returns, holding a large glass beer stein. "You're going to fill this for me," she says.

I pause, looking at it. I don't see how that's going to happen. The bloody thing is almost as tall as I am. Mom crosses the room and sets the stein down next to me. I can look over the edge, but just. It comes up to my neck. I look at her questioningly. Is she insane? Her gray eyes are gleaming with hunger and lust. She is serious.

Mom bends over, flashing those beautiful tits in my face, and grabs the pillows at the head of the bed. She lays them out near me, and unceremoniously sweeps me up and sets me down on top of them. She adjusts the beer stein. There is give under the pillows, but not too much, and I am able to balance myself upon them and aim my engorged cock at the mouth of the glass. Mom steps back from the bed. I wobble a bit, but keep upright.

Mom starts to pose again. She cups her breasts, pulls on the lapels of her blouse, widening the view. She bends over, and even in the underwire bra her breasts dangle, huge and round and gorgeous. She folds her hands demurely across her crotch, which forces her upper arms to press against her breasts, causing them to bulge outward. She bends further, and pretends to play with her stockings, running her hands up and down their length, adjusting folds and smoothing the fabric. She turns on her heels, butt arched outward, and gives her right cheek a slap that sets her whole ass jiggling.

Mom straightens, standing up, hips cocked. She unties the knot under her breasts and lets the shirt slip to the floor. She cups her bra encased breasts, running her hands up and over the cups, tracing her fingers across the upper slopes. With a grin, she folds the left cup under her heavy breast, leaving it to dangle happily, defying gravity and barely needing any support. Her nipple is engorged and hard, and she teases it with a finger.

I'm very close now. Mom smirks. She can sense my progress, judging by the wet stain spreading across the front of her panties. She bends her neck and lifts her left tit, so she can drag her tongue across its expanse and tease her hardened nipple.

And I'm off, spraying the first creamy load into the stein. Spurt spurt spurt. Long streamers of creamy jizz erupt from the tip of the cock, falling in lazy arcs to the bottom of the glass. Mom bites into her lower lip, nostrils flaring, hips jerking a little. I scrape the head of my cock against the rim of the stein, squeezing out the last few pendulous drops. And I keep stroking.

Mom smiles broadly. She repeats the action with her right breast, folding the cup underneath and playing with her nipple. She squats down on her heels, stretching the fabric of her panties at her crotch, muscles in her thighs and calves bunching up. Mom lifts and squeezes and teases her breasts. She forms her full lips into a kiss and aims them at me.

She rises, crouched, so her tits dangle, and lets them swing back and forth. Slowly she straightens, still twisting, heavy breasts swaying back and forth hypnotically. Mom crosses her arms beneath her breasts, raising them up, almost as if offering them to me. Their plump fleshiness flows over her arms.

"You know," she says, almost breaking the spell, "I wanted to wear my purple bra, but I didn't see it in the drawer." Her voice is low and husky with need. "Do you know where I found it?"

I shake me head, hands sweeping up and down my turgidity, even though I know the answer.

"In the hamper," she says needlessly. "With a dried cum stain in the cup." She laughs, low and sexy. "You know, I almost never wear that bra anymore. It's actually too small for me. But it does make my tits look even bigger than they are."

That bra had a 38F tag. Too small? Holy – and I'm off again, spraying another near continuous stream of cum into the cup. It splats as it hits the puddle of cum at the bottom. My ass clenches and my hips jerk involuntarily as I aim my shuddering cock at the beer stein and cum and cum and cum. Mom moans on the other side of the room, her huge hand grazing the front of her panties. I don't know why the mention of numbers does this to me. I can see her breasts, I know how big they are, not only on her but in relation to me. Even at full size, this silly monster cock I brandish would be swallowed between them. But still, having that size quantified with a measurement sets my blood boiling.

As my flood subsides, Mom is breathing heavily. She is crouching again, reclining on her heels. She pushes the front of her panties aside and dips a few fingers into her honey pot. I feel the phantom caresses stroking my cock. "Mommy wears a G cup now," she says, cupping one massive breast and finger fucking herself at the same time.

Immediately after my last orgasm, I am triggered again, somewhat weaker this time, but still a gusher. My hose sprays the side of the beer stein, and my cum washes down the glass side to join the growing pool at the bottom. Mom shudders and moans, riding the crest of our mutual climax with eyes closed and teeth gritted. When she stops shaking, she rises from her crouch and stretches like a cat. She eyes the beer stein hungrily.

"I think you can really do it," she says, almost to herself. She flushes, looks at me, gauging my reaction.

I smile. "You do inspire me," I manage to gasp out.

Mom returns my grin. "Ready for the next outfit? I'll try not to be too long."

I nod. I could use the breather. With a sexy smile, Mom swipes a glistening finger across my chest, marking me with her vaginal fluids, then saunters out of the room, hips swaying and gorgeous ass flexing.

I give my cock a few swipes while I wait, not that I need fluffing. The hex ensures I am hard and leaking precum perpetually.

Mom returns shortly.

She's pulled the ribbons from her hair and brushed it out a little, leaving it wild and tousled but back from her face. A little black choker is tied around her neck, depending from which is a large, most likely fake, ruby.

Mom's curves stretch a tight red dress to bursting. It has a deep scoop neck that shows off her huge breasts. Narrow ties wrap around her shoulders to provide some semblance of support. Her hard nipples are clearly visible through the thin material. The dress hugs the curve of her belly like a second skin. The fabric on the sides has been scalloped, baring her ribs and the top curve of her hips. When she whirls, she shows that most of her back is naked as well. The skirt of the dress is long, hanging down to the floor, but slit up the sides. A narrow band of fabric, only four inches or so thick, rides her hips, connecting the front of the dress to the back. The back rides low enough that I can see the top of her ass. Red four inch heels, tied around her ankles, complete the look. It's clear she isn't wearing a bra, but I don't know if she has panties on under the skirt.

Mom glides into the room, letting the skirt swing and sway, alternately covering and revealing her long, toned legs. Her tits swing around unsupported on her chest, and I can almost hear the strain in the straps as they try to hold back her massive mammaries. Mom puts a crooked finger between her lips and eyes me suggestively, hips cocked, one leg bare, the other hidden.

Where has she been hiding this wardrobe? I wonder, as I furiously tug at my cock.

Mom leans forward, hands on knees. Her tits swing out like low-hanging fruit, full and succulent and all but revealed. The fabric of the dress stretches and rolls, revealing the upper arc of each pink areola, but seems stopped by her hard nipples. Mom sucks a little on that finger, pulls it free. It glistens wetly with her saliva.

Mom straightens and teases a nipple through her dress top with the wet finger. Probing, poking, twisting. Her other hand cups and kneads the other breast, and it starts to pop out of its meager confines. Mom smirks and hooks her hands up under the straps, letting them fall off her shoulders. She peels the front of the dress down off her breasts, which pop free with a sexy bounce.

I reach a minor climax, coaxing another impressive load from my balls, emptying it in to the beer stein at my feet. Mom hisses, hips shaking, eyes half-lidded. Her tongue darts out to trace her lower lip. She teases her nipples, cups and bounces her breasts, squeezing them together, pushing them up against her chest so that her breasts flow over her clutching fingers, nipples scraping against her palms.

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