Hexed Ch. 03

My whole body aches. I stretch, slip out from under the blanket and slip off the pillow. I walk across the bed and leap down to the floor.

I take my time making my way through the house, looking for Mom. The door to my bedroom is still open, her clothes strewn across the floor. The bathroom at the end of the hall is a mess, still reeks of blueberries. I leap down the stairs.

The living room is dark, but the television is on, casting a cool blue glow around the room. I don't see Mom immediately, but after I bound up to the top of the couch, I find her laid out and unconscious.

She is dressed relatively conservatively in white capri pants that leave her calves and feet bare, and a tiny blue t-shirt that stretches tight across her massive chest. She has one arm thrown across her eyes, and her hair spills out around her head in a black halo as she reclines against a pillow. Mom snores softly.

I sit down on the back of the couch and survey the landscape. She really is a beautiful and beautifully formed woman, well rounded curves in all the right places. But she's also my mother.

This whole thing is just so... so... WEIRD. And then there's the little performance that ended the fashion show.

I walk to the north end of the couch and slide down the slope of the cushion, coming to land beside her arm. I reach out and give Mom a gentle shake. She shifts, swats at me with her other hand, and rolls over, towards the TV. I slip down between her and the back of the couch. Sudden panic, as I realize what danger I am in. Fear lends me strength, and I bound back up to the top of the couch in one leap as Mom shifts backward. Her shoulders press against the couch, right where I had been a moment ago.

I navigate down again, to the arm of the couch and around to Mom's front. Her arm is no longer stretched across her face. Her eyes are closed, however, her mouth half open as she sleeps. Her breath, sweet and warm, washes over me, ruffles my hair.

I pat Mom on the cheek. "Mom... Mom... wake up."

Her eyes open a slit. Pupils dilate, open wider as she struggles up from sleep and realizes what is happening.

"Robbie?" she says sleepily. "Oh." She blinks, starts to sit up. I wave her back down and she subsides. "Are you okay? I was so worried about you."

"Yeah, I'm okay. A little sore. Very thirsty. But not hurt. I kind of expected to wake up with a broken leg, if I woke up at all."

Mom smiles. "I caught you when you slipped off the edge of the tub. But you were already unconscious. I guess I wore you out." She blushes slightly.

"Yeah, well, that was a pretty intense afternoon."

Mom laughs uncertainly. "Yeah. You, uh, you saw some strange corner's of your mother's psyche. I hope I didn't scare you or weird you out." She laughs again. "I mean, I hope I didn't scare you too much or weird you out beyond repair."

"No, no, it's okay. I mean, yeah, I wasn't really prepared for all of that to happen. But it was also pretty hot. I guess it's just a little odd finding out your Mom is so... um..."

"Fucked up?" she says. The blush has deepened. She's not quite looking at me, even though I'm standing in front of her face.

"I was going to say 'kinky.'"

Mom's gray eyes refocus on me. "Is that bad?"

"No, it's not bad, it's just... I don't know. I dated a woman in Australia for a couple weeks. Older lady, in her late thirties, and she liked me to tie her up. It never really did anything for me, but she enjoyed it."

"Really?" Mom says. "You never mentioned this woman before."

"I guess we had to have sex together before we could have frank and open discussions about sex," I say somewhat lightly. But instead of making her smile, it only makes her frown.

"I'm such a horrible mother." She sighs. "You should be able to trust me with that sort of thing, Robbie. You can tell me anything."

"I guess I can."

We stare at one another for long moments. I feel uncertain, unbalanced. Even after what she's just said, I'm not sure I want to ask my next question. But I think I have to.

"So, Mom."

"Yes?"

"I have to ask. About, um, that last thing you did. The monologue, performance, whatever." I take a deep breath. My body is betraying me, as my cock is getting harder, throbbing right in front of her. "The 'lonely mother' thing."

Mom turns bright red. She blinks rapidly. Her full lips part, she takes a deep breath, closes them again. "Yes, that."

I nod. "Yes, that."

She giggles, a nervous sound. "It's complicated. I made it up on the spot. And yet it's been in the back of my head for a long time." She sighs, looks away, looks back at me. "Your father has been gone a long time. You look a lot like him. A lot. And you've been away most of the last four years, especially the last few months. Once in a while, the thought has occurred to me, and not in any kind of a serious way mind you, that it might be nice to kiss you. Like a woman kisses a man, not like a mom kisses a son. But just passing thoughts. Not even a full blown fantasy.

"And then... this whole situation happens. And here we are, having a sexual relationship. I just thought I'd play with that idea a little bit. I think we both enjoyed it." She pauses, gauges my reaction. "Did you?" she asks in as quiet a voice as a fifty foot woman can manage.

My turn to blush furiously. "I did, I think. No, I know I did." I look down at my rampant cock, give it a flex. "No use lying about it, you can see what my reaction is."

Mom laughs, some of the tension draining from her face and voice. "I'm glad. I don't want to do anything to hurt you or drive you away. I know I enjoyed it too." She sighs again. "Now what about all the cumplay? Did that gross you out entirely?"

"A little bit," I say honestly. "But it was pretty hot too."

She breathes a sigh of relief, ruffling my hair again. "Oh, good. I was worried about that, too." She pauses, looking at me intently. "Should we stop this?"

So. There's the question of the hour. Part of me wants to say "yes." This is sick and wrong. Perverted and depraved. But a bigger part, maybe the part throbbing between my legs, urges me to say "no." Still, it's a serious question, and it deserves serious debate. So I tell Mom what I'm feeling, how I'm conflicted, not sure what I want, what we should do.

"I have to be honest with you, Robbie. The last few days have been two of the most intense and enjoyable of my sexual career. I have... cut loose with you in a way I haven't ever before. I don't know if it's because you're my son and I feel I can trust you completely, or because you're trapped at that size and I can basically do whatever I want with you. That you seem to be enjoying yourself as much as I am just sort of eggs me on, makes me lose my mind a little bit. So that's a bit of a pro and a con. I'm the adult, the parent, and I shouldn't let myself lose control like that, especially around you."

"We're both adults, Mom. We're both complicit. But if I ever said 'no' to you, you would stop. We both know that."

She frowns. Even then, she's extraordinarily pretty. "I'm touched that you believe that, honey. But I'm not sure I would. And I'm not sure I can entirely blame it on the hex. My subconscious is a pretty dark and scary place.

"I've been thinking about things this afternoon, while you've been resting. Why did I make the pie a blueberry pie? I know it's your favorite. Why didn't I throw it out when you came home? Instead I just left a note, which you have a habit of ignoring. Did I want this to happen? Did some part of me engineer this whole scenario, just to put you under my power and have my way with you?"

I look at Mom, stricken. I can't say those thoughts haven't occurred to me, but I dismissed them. Mom isn't that calculating or heartless. There are tears in her eyes. I step forward and put a hand against her cheek. Unfortunately, my dick nudges up against her lips, eliciting a gasp from both of us. I tug it back and hold it away from her, trying to awkwardly and poorly hug her.

"Mom," I say, "you couldn't have intended this to happen. It was an accident. I don't blame you – no one made me eat the pie. And you were doing pretty well hiding your own arousal up until I jacked off into the shotglass. If anything, I'm to blame."

The salty tears flow down her cheeks, across where my hand touches her cheek. But she's smiling. I feel a huge hand against my back as Mom pushes me towards her. I hug her face, while her hand hugs my whole body. "Oh Robbie, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom."

Still holding me against her, she says, "I guess the blame game isn't going to get us anywhere. We have to answer the question that we've been avoiding. Do we continue with this dalliance? Or control ourselves?"

My dick, slick with precum, slips out of my grasp and slaps against Mom's lips. Her tongue unconsciously darts out to give it a taste. I shudder with pleasure.

And I suppose we have our answer. We couldn't control ourselves if we wanted to – I think we'd just make ourselves miserable if we tried. What was it Mom said a day and a thousand years ago? Oh yeah: we'll just have to ride this out.

Might as well have some fun while we do.

I grip the base of my cock and manipulate my rod, rubbing the spongy head against Mom's plush lips, leaving a tiny trail of precum which she avidly licks away.

"I think we should enjoy this while it lasts," I say.

Mom smiles. Her lips purse, kissing my cock lightly. "I'm glad you feel that way."

I lean down and kiss Mom on the cheek, a tiny peck that I am sure she barely feels. I crane my neck towards the other end of the couch and leap away, landing at her feet.

Mom starts. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to undress you," I say, puffing out my chest.

"Oh, are you?" she says with a laugh. "Should I stand up?"

"No, stay where you are. Lay in the middle, if you would."

Mom complies, shifting on the couch so that she lies on her back, legs slightly spread, arms wide, huge breasts slowly rising and falling. A bemused look is on her pretty face as she watches me approach her across the couch cushions.

I clamber up onto her crotch, which starts her giggling. I try to keep a straight face as I struggle with the button. Finally I wedge it through the loop. Next is the zipper, which I grab with both hands and tug forcefully. It comes slowly, but it comes. With a rasp, the zipper opens up, revealing a pair of plain white panties beneath. I hop up onto Mom's hips and start curling the waistband down, but it's like the pants are painted on. Mom laughs lightly. I flash her a stern look over my shoulder.

I leap down to her ankles and tug on each pant leg in turn. My strength belies my mass, and the pants begin to draw down Mom's legs. I'm aided by the fact that Mom has lifted her ass off the couch. But the pants are catching on that ass, full and round and perfect as it is.

I spring back to Mom's hips, first on the right and then on the left, and work on rolling the pants down off her hips and butt. She steadies herself on her palms, watching me work, offering neither encouragement nor hindrance. I am sweating buckets from the exertion, but whatever my metabolism is doing, it's generating plenty of energy. I'm not tired. In fact, I'm getting more and more excited.

Once the pants are off her hips, they're a little easier to move. The mass of them as they bulk up on her thighs makes it difficult, but by leaping over and pulling on her pantleg, I'm able to slip them off completely, relatively quickly.

Once they're off, Mom stretches her legs, spreads them, and then makes a little bicycle movement with them. Her feet flash by overhead, and I admire the way the muscles in her thighs and calves flex.

The t-shirt is next. I spring back to Mom's waist, and make a short hop up onto her belly. I grab the bottom edge and start to roll it up and over her smooth, softly rounded belly. Mom shifts underneath me. Her butt now planted on the cushion, she sits up, allowing me to lift the back of the t-shirt along with the front. Mom's belly shivers under my feet - she is slightly ticklish there, as I approach the mountains of her breasts.

I pause just beneath them, scratching my head in mock consternation. Mom laughs loudly, which unbalances me and sends me spilling down her belly to land in the V between her legs. I can feel the heat radiating off her pussy through her panties. Plenty of time for that later.

I clamber back to my feet, eliciting a hiss of arousal from Mom as my carefully placed weight bumps against sensitive parts of her anatomy. I spring up to her breasts, catching hold of her bra under shirt, and climb up onto the shelf of her right tit. With a smirk, I slip under the V-neck collar into her cleavage. My feet sink into her soft skin, and my legs slip between her breasts. Her flesh envelops me, pushes against me. I grab t-shirt fabric with both hands and start tugging, gradually and insistently pulling it over my head. Her scent is all around me, filling my breath, soaking into my skin.

The bra, like her panties, is a plain white affair with smooth cups. It comes into view as the t-shirt bunches up over my head, finally pulled over her enormous breasts.

I slip out of Mom's cleavage with a little reluctance, leaving a tiny puddle of precum behind. I crane my neck, looking over the bunched up t-shirt into Mom's eyes. She is smiling broadly, one brow arched with curiosity.

"And the sleeves?" she says.

Damn. Hadn't considered those. I look with genuine consternation at Mom's shoulders. "Lay back, please," I say, "and raise your arms."

"Yes, sir," Mom says, chuckling. She reclines, raising her arms over her head. This serves to lift her breasts as well, and I rise with them.

With Mom's co-operation and a little jumping back and forth and a lot of tugging, I get the t-shirt over Mom's head. With that done, I can grab the sleeves and pull first one and then the other along the length of her arms. Mom slithers her hands through the sleeves for me, allowing the shirt to fall off the arm of the couch and pool on the floor. From beside Mom's head I survey my handiwork, hands on hips, breathing heavy and sweating profusely.

Mom's enormous, curvy body is laid out before me, clad in a modest white bra and panty set. Her pale skin glimmers in the subdued light from the TV screen. With arms raised, her breasts are pushed together, creating a deep canyon between them. Her smooth belly flows into her pubis, momentarily hidden beneath her panties. She is rubbing her thighs together in anticipation.

"Sit up again, please," I say, and Mom complies.

"Of course, dear." Her smooth back rises before me, long dark hair hanging over her shoulders. She turns her head, looking over at me with one eye and a smirk twisting her full lips. Using the couch arm as a ledge, I lean forward and reach for the hooks at the back of her bra. Mom's hand comes behind her, hovering nearby to catch me or lend me aid. I ignore it, struggling with the hooks. There are six of them, which seems excessive at the moment, but are probably important given how much weight they have to support. It's like trying to throw six deadbolts all at once.

Mom throws her shoulders back, lessening the tension a bit. I get one hook free, and the others follow in quick succession. Gasping, I wipe sweat from my forehead and sit back for a moment to catch my breath. I let myself admire the smooth musculature of her back, a field of flesh that fills my vision.

"You okay back there?" Mom asks.

"Yes," I grunt. "Just catching my breath."

"Do you want me to-?"

"No," I say quickly. "I'll do it." I take a few more quick breaths and leap up onto Mom's right shoulder. She sways a bit with the impact, and I have to grab a lock of hair to keep from tumbling to the floor, which looks very far away. This yields a yelp, for which I quickly apologize. Still, I'm going to really miss this crazy agility when I recover my height.

"You could warn a girl," she says, a little grumpy.

I let go of her hair and balance myself on her shoulder. Reaching down, I lift up the shoulder strap just a bit and let it fall. I gently pull some of Mom's hair aside and whisper into her ear, "Hold still." I bend my knees and launch myself over her head, coming to land quite ably on her other shoulder. The back of the couch will cushion my fall if I lose my balance. I repeat the action with her left shoulder strap, letting it fall onto her upper arm.

Mom has half turned her head to watch me. No longer grumpy, she is smiling, quietly amused at the little monkey leaping around and denuding her. I can't resist leaning in and kissing her lightly on her plush upper lip, which just makes her smile even more broadly, flashing me a little teeth.

With a nod, I sit down on Mom's shoulder and slide down her collarbone and onto the upper part of her left tit. Using my legs and then arms, I push the huge cup free of her breast, then slip off the slope of her boob and land lightly on her belly. I scramble, turn around, and continue to remove the bra from her breast. It comes reluctantly, and I realize I have to get the other one going before I can get the whole thing off. I step across Mom's ribs, and grab the underside of the right cup. Lifting and pulling, I soon have it free. I now reach for the center of the bra and give a few strong tugs. Mom assists with a shrug of her shoulders, which sets her boobs to jiggling, but also loosens the straps and allows me to remove her bra completely. I lift it up over my head and toss it off the side of the couch.

I am once again face to face with Mom's magnificent breasts. Each one full and firm, and nearly as large as my entire body. Her areolas are flushed, nipples hardened. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath, and I can smell the lotion she rubs into her skin. I'm glad it's not baby powder – I'm not sure I could take that scent right now. Whatever it is, it's sweet and clean and fruity.

I can't resist closing in, choosing her right breast for a hug that wraps my whole body around it. Her nipple nudges up against my stomach, and my engorged cock leaves trails of precum on her pale, soft flesh.

Mom unceremoniously plucks me from her tit, pulling me off it and depositing me on her belly while she reclines backward on the couch. "You're not done yet," she says.

I look down the sweep of Mom's belly at the sensible white panties she is wearing. They hug her hips and cup her sex. I can see a wet spot dampening the front.

I slide off Mom's flank and onto the couch. I slip my fingers under the edge of the fabric on her hips and tug it down. I have to leap across her, back and forth, to inch the panties off her hips. As the bottom edge starts to bunch up against her ass, she lifts up a little bit, balancing on hands and feet, legs spread. I tug and pull, and pull and tug, but the leverage just isn't there. Mom's plush ass is just too full and springy.

With a resigned sigh, I wave my hand to catch Mom's attention before sliding underneath her like a mechanic working on a car. I am all too aware of her immense weight hovering over me as I shimmy across the couch cushion and grab at the bunched up fabric near the top of her crack. I give it a sharp tug and it finally comes free, sliding across Mom's skin and almost snapping me in the face.

Mom's cheeks kind of bounce over my head, and I get lost in admiring her perfect pulchritude for a few moments. I'm brought back to reality by Mom's voice. "Robbie? What are you doing down there, honey?"

I roll out from underneath her, and as soon as I am free Mom lowers herself down. Her naked ass settles into the cushion, and I suppress a shudder. The worse thing is that my cock is inexplicably harder, as if contemplating my own messy death excites it.