The Seductive Seed of a Tranny MILF

Jackson got home and immediately curled up in bed. He didn't want to move for the rest of the weekend. He'd finally worked up the courage to ask a co-worker out at work. She politely rejected the invitation. Then later on in the day, Jackson spotted her flirting with some musclebound blockhead. Seeing that was like having hot coals dumped over his head.

Twenty years old and he'd never had any real luck with girls. Jackson felt cursed by his puny body. Forced to watch muscular jocks snatch up the girls he liked until the end of time. Damned to have a small, skinny body no matter what he did. He tried all the diets and exercises; the shakes and supplements whose labels promised to help him build muscle, and none of them worked.

This latest dating embarrassment prompted Jackson to renew his search for the secret that might finally do something for him. He was browsing in bed on his tablet for tips and tricks to adding bulk when he stumbled onto something interesting. He started reading articles with the most peculiar headlines. They declared the health benefits of drinking semen. It seemed ridiculous, but Jackson kept finding those articles and he kept reading them. They claimed medical studies showed it had all the nutrients of a protein shake. Semen was being proclaimed a superfood and a wonder ingredient all over the web.

Jackson found it pretty funny, but not very helpful. He wondered how anyone could get their hands on enough "human ejaculate" to make any sort of difference. They'd have to work at a sperm bank. He hated to imagine the scene when someone got caught stealing from work at a place like that. Caught red-handed, or creamy-lipped, as it might be more accurate to say. Even if it did offer all of the health benefits that those articles claimed, it seemed impractical. Ever getting it in the quantity necessary to truly be beneficial seemed impossible.

He was about to put his tablet away and forget about it when a strange thought came to him. He found himself thinking about somebody else that lived in the building. A fellow tenant he saw around. He recalled just seeing her heading down to do laundry as he was getting home.

Jackson knew her name was Martha, though they did little more than share a hello from time to time. She was a mountain of a woman around the age of forty-five with tangled hair and sun-beaten skin. It was an open secret throughout the complex that Martha wouldn't exactly be welcome in a ladies' room in the south. Rumor had it that she not only had a cock, but that it was enormous.

She'd popped into Jackson's head because of her socks. She always had a few dirty, old socks hanging off the side of her laundry basket and anyone could tell that they were caked in cum. Jackson couldn't stop thinking about those crusty socks and how completely coated they were in dried jizz. He wondered if cum could really be the key to adding the kind of muscle he wanted so desperately. Was it a genuine superfood like those articles had suggested? If any man produced enough semen to make ingesting it worthwhile for that purpose, it had to be that woman by the name of Martha. Jackson bet she could out-cum a horse. So the question arose, how realistic was it that she could become his sperm source?

Jackson hopped out of bed and piled up the clothes off his floor. He hastily transferred the pile into his dirty clothes bag. He sped out the door and down the stairs to the laundry room not knowing what he'd say if he caught her in time.

He made it all the way down and discovered her still there. She was leaning against one of the machines going through her mail. Her dirty clothes basket sat on a washer. The socks hanging off it got Jackson's attention. Getting a good look at them unsettled his stomach, but he kept looking. He didn't know if his mind was playing tricks on him or if he could actually smell them from where he was standing.

"Looking for detergent?" Martha glanced up to ask.

Jackson realized she'd noticed him staring. "No, I'm good." He loaded up his washer and Martha began to do the same. He didn't have a plan. Didn't know what to say. "Would you let me drink your semen so I can bulk up and girls will like me, miss nice big cock woman?" didn't sound right. He wanted to strike the right tone.

She'd emptied the rest of her basket before gathering up those soiled socks dangling off the side and that's when she said, "You're acting kinda strange today. You okay, honey?"

The stained socks distracted Jackson and he didn't answer right away. "I'm, I'm fine."

"Problem with the ladies," she surmised.

"Or lack thereof," Jackson confessed.

"I wouldn't be spunking up my socks if I didn't know the feeling," Martha added with similar candor and an amused chuckle before finally tossing them into the washer. "You didn't want to hear that. Sorry. My filter must be off today."

Jackson wondered if a woman that walked around with cum-coated socks draped off her laundry basket actually had a filter to begin with, but it was the opening he'd been waiting for. All he needed to do now was approach it right. "You know, you could bottle that stuff up and sell it instead of filling your socks with it. People will buy anything."

"Sell my spunk?" She let out a hearty laugh.

"Well, um, there have been some studies recently about its health benefits. They say it helps build muscle. It sounds silly saying this out loud." Jackson began to have second thoughts and tried to play it off as a joke, but he saw a twinkle in Martha's eyes.

"I have heard that before. Ever tried it?"

"No, no, never." He felt defensive all of the sudden, the off-putting smile she gave him raised his level of discomfort and he quickly regretted ever bringing the whole thing up. "I only read articles about it because I was looking for protein supplements to help pack on a little muscle. Then I saw those socks of yours and figured I'd give you a heads up that there's probably a market for that sort of thing."

"That makes sense," Martha said. "I bet it would be good for bulking up. I happen to like my guys small and sweet, but I know big muscles get the girls these days."

Martha's admission turned Jackson's face a deep shade of red. "It's no big deal. I probably should have left it unsaid."

"No," she said. "I think you brought me a good opportunity." There was that off-putting smile of hers again. Jackson didn't like the way she was looking at him. He hurriedly added detergent and set the machine going before scurrying up the stairs and back to his apartment.

There was a booming knock at Jackson's door no more than fifteen minutes later that startled him. Nobody stood outside the door to his apartment when he went to check. He was about to shut the door when he noticed a lidded container at his feet. Jackson glanced around but saw no one, he bent down and picked the note up that sat beside the container. It read:

"This one's on me."

Jackson brought the container inside with him. It felt warm in his hands. He set it down on his desk. Jackson peeled back the lid and suppressed a gasp at the sight of the milky, murky liquid contained within. Martha's semen. Jackson didn't know how to react or what to think as he studied it. He wanted to be grossed out, and a part of him was, but another part of him wouldn't let him look away, wouldn't let him spill it out in the sink and forget it.

Jackson lifted the container. Filled nearly to the edge with cum, it was heavy. Jackson hadn't known loads this large even existed. He nixed the suspicion that it could be from multiple ejaculations because he'd just brought the subject up to Martha not fifteen minutes ago. Her ejaculations must have resembled an erupting volcano, she'd cover everything in the vicinity in her molten lava if she wasn't careful. Jackson imagined how massive her testicles had to be to expel such a payload. The thought left him feeling woozy.

He thought of the girl at work he had a crush on who'd rejected him, the shame and dejection he felt over his slight frame, it all rolled through his head on repeat. This container of musky splooge represented his last hope, but he didn't relish the idea of drinking something that came out of Martha's body. He wondered if he could really put a substance in his mouth that had brewed inside that greasy woman and shot out of her penis. He decided that if he ever wanted any success with girls in his life he would have to.

Jackson raised the virile fluid to his lips and sniffed it. He tipped the container to his lips and took a sip of the substance rolling around inside it. The syrupy liquid coated his tongue. It's rich, powerful flavor assaulted his taste buds. He swallowed. Jackson's mind was hit by an image of Martha orgasming into the container. It left him disturbed. He was unnerved, but he took another sip, and then another.

Jackson struggled at times to swallow Martha's thick butter. He wouldn't let himself give up, even when it felt like it was coalescing in his stomach and forming a knot. He disregarded more mental images of her busting the nut he was drinking. He tried to hide from the fact that the substance he gulped down was produced inside Martha, pumped up her shaft and blown out of her hard cock. From her dick to his mouth.

Jackson put the container down only when he'd polished off her entire load. He'd ingested so much of her sperm that it felt like cum was going to start pouring out from his eyeballs. Jackson sat there and considered what he'd done. He took a deep breath and wiped the sticky residue from around his lips as best he could.

He wondered if this made him a sissy now. He'd just slurped down someone else's semen. Guzzled the potent sperm syrup down and coated his stomach with it. Did that make him Martha's bitch now? He'd swallowed the horny older woman's massive load. That sounded like something only a sissy or a bitch would do. Jackson washed the container out in the sink. He didn't know whether he should bring it back to her or not.

Jackson didn't want to write the whole thing off completely. In an effort to capitalize on the protein he did some curls with his dumbbells. He'd just put the television on when he remembered his laundry. He passed a cute girl he'd been crushing on in the hall that lived in the same building. Her name was Megan and she gave him a funny look as they crossed paths and then kept walking.

Jackson wasn't exactly happy to find Martha back in the laundry room changing her clothes over as well. He nodded when she said hello and began loading the dryer himself.

"You get the donation I left outside your door? How was it?" Martha asked.

"I don't know what you thought I was going to do with that..."

Martha abandoned her clothes and walked right up to him. "I thought you wouldn't be able to resist. I figured you'd gobble it up." She rubbed the side of Jackson's mouth with her thumb and then drew her hand back to reveal a pearly strand of partially-dried semen on it. "I was right."

Jackson felt like kicking himself. Megan must have seen that dripping off his face in the hall. What must she have thought? Did she think he was a degenerate or a pervert of some sort? Was he?

"Uh, I tasted it just to... to see what all the fuss was about online. I wanted to know what people were willing to pay for."

"Did you find it out?" Martha sucked the glistening wad off her thumb and smacked her thick lips.

Jackson blushed in response to her ostentatious display. "No," he said. "I don't think this is my sort of thing."

"Then you're saying I shouldn't leave you any more samples?" she asked.

"Yeah. I guess you're going to need those socks again," he chuckled uncomfortably.

"You're probably right," Martha replied with a wise smirk.

***

Jackson woke up the next day officially prepared to put the whole incident behind him. Martha could go back to soiling her socks, she could keep filling containers, she could even ejaculate off the side of a building for all he cared. The only place he knew her next big load wasn't going was down his throat.

Jackson felt pretty good. His mood was upbeat. He had plenty of energy. He was feeling so nice that when he saw Megan at the bottom of the stairwell he went down to say hello and clear up their minor misunderstanding from yesterday.

He lied and said he must have looked odd because he'd put shaving cream on and hadn't washed it off very well. She accepted his explanation and seemed fine with it. Jackson was beginning to feel at ease and continued their conversation until another guy emerged from one of the apartments and met Megan with a kiss. He was wearing a muscle tee that let everyone see how ripped his arms were. Megan introduced him. Her boyfriend Derrick. Jackson ended the conversation quickly and shut himself up in his apartment again.

That painful reminder convinced Jackson to abandon his decision to avoid Martha and her big loads. It hadn't taken long for him to become desperate enough once again to drink her cum. Jackson made sure he was there the next time Martha did laundry. The older woman seemed to be expecting him down there in that dimly-lit laundry room. She greeted him with the smile that made him uneasy, but after his latest humiliation, he didn't let that dissuade him.

"Hey Martha, I've been thinking..." he said, "just because it's not my sort of thing doesn't mean I couldn't help you sell... your stuff. It still feels like a shame to just wash it away in a washing machine when people are willing to pay for it." He glanced over at the dirty socks hanging off her basket of clothes.

"You're asking for a business partnership. You wanna help connect me with buyers?" Martha appeared quite amused at his latest excuse to get his hands on her dick milk.

"I, I could pay you upfront and handle the rest myself. You wouldn't have to do anything. Other than the... the getting the product out. And you'd do that anyway." Jackson's own words made him cringe.

"Is that so?" Martha pretended to be unconvinced by his newest proposal.

"I have some money on me. I could pay you." He started to fumble around in his pockets and pulled out his wallet.

Martha shook her head side to side. She pushed his wallet away. "Keep your money. I think we can work something out for payment," she said in an abstruse tone.

"How, um, how can we?" Jackson blinked anxiously.

Martha hefted his dirty laundry bag up and started going through it. She yanked a bright pair of red briefs out. "We'll do a swap. My loads for your unmentionables."

Jackson wanted to tear his underwear out of her hands. "Those are dirty!" he protested, "They wouldn't even fit you! You're... I mean... you're a lot bigger than me."

"They'll fit quite nicely wrapped around my cock, smart-ass," Martha snapped the small waistband, "Might be a little snug, but that's kind of the point." She grinned.

"That's disgusting!" Jackson griped. He felt repulsed just thinking about it.

"You don't want to see how the sausage milk is made, you just want to drink it. I get it. If you really don't like it you can refuse my next spunk shake. I might even give you back the underwear. They're going to look a lot like my socks do when I'm done with them," Martha informed him with a high degree of satisfaction in her voice. He remained speechless as she walked off, her hips snapping, his little red briefs swinging from around her finger.

***

Jackson wasn't startled this time when ten or fifteen minutes after he'd headed back to his apartment someone banged on his door. "Delivery!" Martha boomed from outside his door. He waited to open the door until he'd heard her descend the stairs. Sure enough there was another container sitting on the mat just beyond his doorway. Jackson took a quick look around, just to be sure, a guilty expression on his face. He brought the container inside with him and set it down on his coffee table.

Jackson paced in a circular pattern around the table before finally sitting down on the couch across from the container. He couldn't believe he was thinking like this, but he didn't want it to get cold. Jackson popped the lid off the container and brought it to his lips in one seamless motion. He sipped slowly from the container, letting its warm contents wash over him. He was strangely calm this time, swallowing thick, weighty mouthfuls of Martha's sperm. He'd felt a tad hungry and in a shameful way this really hit the spot. Jackson watched the way her load shimmered under the light, the way it careened around the edges of the container and into his mouth.

He'd finished off most of it by the time he happened to look down and notice his erection. The revelation didn't sit well with Jackson. He wasn't supposed to be sprouting boners from drinking Martha's semen! This was supposed to help him become a better man, the kind of man that girls would like to date. Instead it felt like it was turning him into more of a sissy than he already was.

He had to admit at some point that he liked the taste of it. That wasn't supposed to happen either. It was warm and rich and it felt good going down. It left him feeling sated deep inside. There was another component, a darker pleasure he didn't know how to admit to himself yet. It seemed to carry with it an intimate connection. It was more than some protein shake you put together in a blender, it was personal. It was Martha. The sweet part of her. Jackson didn't know how to comprehend any of these feelings so he took the rest and quickly swallowed it.

***

An unsettling dream preyed upon Jackson's sleeping mind that night. Martha's naked, sweating, heaving body towering over him. She seemed ten feet tall, stroking her massive cock over his face. Her breasts bounced together to the rhythm of her jerking hand. Her breath was harsh, rasping. He heard it like it was in his ears with him. The muscles in her legs flexed as she rubbed the huge monster in his face. Her entire body tensed suddenly. She moaned so loud that the room shook as her cock erupted violently. Martha painted his face in her hot cream. The crazy thing was he loved it. He lapped it up and slurped it down any which way he could get it. She spewed gallons of it all over him. He didn't want her to stop. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted to bathe in it. He wanted to live in it. He wanted more. Always more.

Jackson awoke in a cold sweat and threw the blanket off. He reached over and gulped down the glass of water on his nightstand. The dream hadn't even disgusted him. It had done something worse. Up until now he'd tried to avoid thoughts of Martha orgasming into that container, filling it with her gooey seed just for him. Those mental pictures were unavoidable now. He was seeing them in his dreams. The back of Jackson's throat tickled with desire. He cared less and less about how the sausage got made, only that it made its way to him. He wanted more, always more, and it wasn't a dream anymore. It was his reality. Two feedings and he was addicted.

I don't have to tell you that Martha and Jackson started doing a lot more laundry. Nearly every day they'd meet up in that dreary laundry room and initiate the exchange. Jackson inconspicuously passed Martha his dirty briefs and not long after he'd have a hot and fresh delivery ready to drink at his door. A week went by before Martha broke the protocol they'd established. This time when she took possession of Jackson's underwear she brought them right up to her face. Martha inhaled them deeply. She rubbed them over her nose and lips and moaned intensely. Martha shut her eyes and basked in their scent.

When she opened her eyes again she took notice of Jackson's disapproving expression. "Don't look like a prude when you're going to have a pint of my DNA splashing around in your stomach soon," she said.

Jackson stifled his objections. He needed Martha. Needed what she could provide. He was always going to have to make certain concessions to keep her happy and willing to supply him. Jackson had no way of knowing how steep those compromises would soon become.