tagIncest/TabooThe Ultimate Woman

The Ultimate Woman


This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, and the actions contained herein should not be duplicated. All characters are 18 or older. It's all pretend, folks. In fact, these characters are even more cartoonish than usual.


I am in the monitor womb, poring over law school textbooks and taking notes when the perimeter alarm alerts me to the arrival of someone or something outside.

I leave my homework and rush to the main screen. Encircling me are hundreds of monitors, a kaleidoscope of images that include every major news network, satellite feeds, and scans from deep space and other dimensions. But it is the blur of yellow and red on the main screen that draws my attention. My parents are returning to the Fortress, and they are not moving slowly. Something is wrong.

It takes me only thirty seconds to maneuver my way from the monitor womb to the Fortress' front door, an airlock of ultimum metal that is seventeen feet thick. My father pushes it open one handed, and only he can hear the whisper as metal glides against metal, so quiet are the hinges.

He is a big man, my father, broad and powerfully built. His short blond hair is windblown, and his bright blue eyes are narrowed with concern. He holds my mother in his arms. Here in the entry hall of the Fortress, surrounded by trophies and monuments to our family's victories, even the Crusader looks small.

"Good," he says, "you're here."

"What happened?" I hear myself say, even though I should know. I was in the monitor womb, after all, and I should have been monitoring rather than doing homework.

"Prison break," the Crusader reports, his words terse. "Dr. Love blindsided your mother with his Hypno-Beam." Anyone else would think him dispassionate, but I know my father. I hear the concern in his voice, for his wife and for the innocents who will suffer while superpowered terrorists are on the loose.

"I'll suit up," I say. I admit only to myself that it is the fact that my mother has been hurt motivates me more than altruism. My father is a better man than I.

He smiles thinly, a rare moment of emotion from the man of might. "I appreciate the thought, but I can handle this. I need to handle this -- and I need you here. I need you to look after your mother, and keep me updated from the monitor womb." The smile is gone, replaced by the square-jawed heroic look he's perfected for the television. "Can I depend on you?"

"Of course," I say without hesitation. He lifts my mother into my arms, and even as I take her he is blasting off, south, across the plain of Arctic ice and back to the world in peril.

I look down at my mother. Light as a feather in my arms, her sumptuous body writhes, her beautiful face contorting and twisting. Whatever Dr. Love did to her, it has left her senseless and in pain. I cradle my mother and carry her through the Hall of Victory and up two levels to the infirmary. I lay her down on one of the beds and cue up a diagnostic kit. As sensors begin to read my mother's condition, I survey her myself.

She is a tall woman, taller than most men, her body at once toned and well muscled, lush and curvy. Her long black hair, normally tied back when in costume, is loose, strands matted to her sweaty brow. Her green, long-lashed eyes are closed, her full lips parted to reveal gritted teeth. Her cheeks are flush, and her chest rises and falls heavily as if she is exerting herself tremendously. And what a chest it is, I can't help noting, even if she is my mother. She is near fifty years old, a mother of three, and yet time has not touched her since she was 22 and the accident that made her Ultimate Woman.

The thing is, that ridiculous blue and gold uniform of hers, the one with the cape, that covers her from throat to toe and yet leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, looks like it has actually tightened around her. Every muscle and projection is outlined by the suit of unstable molecules. Her nipples are hard nubs in the center of her prodigious breasts, and there is moisture dampening the crotch of her uniform.

The diagnostic computer confirms what my senses have already told me: my mother isn't in pain, she's aroused.

I feel blood engorge my cock, unbidden and unwelcomed.

I would have to be dead to not notice how gorgeous is my mother, or how gorgeous are my genetically perfect sisters. The experiment that transformed my parents, gave them the ability to fly and ignore environmental extremes, to lift tanks or shoot lasers from their eyes, modified them, made them superhumanly attractive as well. Their children inherited their abilities, and I admit I have used my otherworldly good looks to my advantage on more than one occasion. A couple thousand occasions, actually, but getting into hot chicks' panties is easy enough when you're a world famous celebrity and superhero.

What isn't easy, though, is ignoring the dirty thoughts that my own family gives me from time to time. Like now.

I realize that my mother's green eyes are open, examining me, and I feel my face grow red. "Are you okay?" I ask lamely.

She sits up, slow and languorous, emphasizing the swell of her heaving breasts. "Where is your father?" she asks breathessly, her voice husky and low. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prick up. What this woman does to me. . .

"He's safe," I hear myself say, somehow not stumbling over the words. "He went after Dr. Love, and wanted me to look after you."

"Typical," she says. I watch, simultaneously stricken with embarrassment and nearly overcome with lust as she casually cups her right tit and teases the nipple beneath her uniform with her index finger. "Whenever I need a hard cock, he's never around."

"Mom," I croak, surprised at her language, at the way she dismisses my father, the world's hero. I know it's the effect of the Hypno-Beam, but I can't help being shocked.

"It's true," she says, still massaging her breast, "I can count on one hand the number of times he's given it to me good and hard since you kids were born. He's always flying off to save the world or the universe, but he's never ready to save me." Her eyes are glazed with lust, her voice thick with passion, and yet she is saying such horrible things.

"Mom," I say ineffectually, "you have to concentrate. You've been hypnotized. You don't know what you're saying." I swallow, though my throat is dry. "Or what you're doing."

She smiles then, those full kissable lips quirking up into a radiant grin. She points lazily with her left hand at my crotch, and I look down in horror at the tent my cock has made in my shorts. "If I've been hypnotized, what's gotten into you?" my mother huskily asks.

She slides off the infirmary bed.

"Mom?" I ask hesitatingly.

She unclasps her cape, letting it fall from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She steps toward me, and I raise my hands ineffectually to block her. Ineffectually, because she steps into my hands, her heaving tits coming to rest against my palms like they belong there. I feel the hard nubbins of her nipples scrape against my skin, while my fingertips graze the soft, pendulous flesh that lies beneath her thin uniform. Then she is cupping me, pressing her own palm against the hardness raging between my legs, threatening to burst out of my shorts. Her slim fingers caress my length, teasing me.

"Who needs your father, though, when I have a nice hard cock right here?" Her voice is like a whisper. Her eyes are hypnotic, drawing me in. I see my own lust mirrored in them.

This is wrong. This is a crime. I fight crime. Why can't I stop this?

"Mom," I gasp, trying to form a refusal of this situation in my mind, with my throat, but my fingers tighten around her breasts, squeezing and cupping them, as she continues to caress me.

"I need this, baby," Mom says. She is practically seething with lust. "The Hypno-Beam can't make you do anything you don't want to do, anymore than real hypnosis can. All the beam does is intensify emotions."

Her breasts leave my hands. She is lowering herself, dropping to her knees. I cannot believe this is happening, and cannot bring myself to stop it.

"I've seen you looking at me," she continues. Her gloved fingers unclasp my belt. I hear the clink of the clasp and the slither of leather as she undoes it. "I've seen you looking at your sisters. Don't try to deny it, son. A mother always knows. And I have to admit I have. . . looked at you from time to time, when you haven't noticed me. You're a very desirable young man."

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.

She pulls my shorts down, and with them my boxers. My raging cock slaps upward, hitting her on the chin and dragging a trail of weeping precum across her skin. She smiles again. Wicked. Naughty. Her pink tongue darts out from between her full lips to lick my juice from her chin.

My mother grips me with her gloved hands. Her gloves are cool. My flesh is hot. I do not want this, and yet I need it to continue. Her touch is simultaneously feather light and firm as her hand glides along my length.

"So big," she all but coos. "Tell me, son, could any of those starlets you've fucked do this?" Her lips touch the sensitive head of my cock and part, and I am sliding between them, into her hot, moist mouth. Her tongue undulates along the underside of my cock. I am practically spraying precum at this point, splattering the inside of her mouth. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks me in. Her plush lips slide along my cock as she devours me. I feel her throat constrict around the head of my cock, and still she swallows me. Her nose presses against my skin, her lips ovalled wide around the base of my cock. I am completely inside her mouth, throbbing and slick with her saliva and my own fluids.

My mother can survive unaided on the surface of the moon. She doesn't need to breathe as she deepthroats me. She's right. None of the starlets I've fucked could have done this. Most of them couldn't even get the head of my dick past their lips, though many have tried.

The pleasure is intense. This is wrong. But I don't care.

My cock is aflame. I flex it, trapped within the exquisite prison of her mouth and throat, spraying precum directly into her gullet. Her tongue caresses the base of my cock, her saliva drips into my pubic hair, and her throat muscles tighten around me as she swallows, swallows, swallows, sucking me in. Conscious thought leaves me. I am as enflamed as she, although it is no Hypno-Beam that has done this, merely the unbridled passions of my own mother, the forbidden fantasies of my own sick mind.

She slides back up my cock, sucking and licking, slurping along the length. Saliva and precum drip from my exposed cock, splattering her uniform. Only the head of my cock lies between her lips now, and she uses her agile tongue to scoop precum from my opening, torturing me with pleasure. She hums now, adding to the sensation. She kisses the head of my cock, then turns her neck and rains kisses down the slick column of my cock. Mother's lips press against my balls, her tongue bathes me. She sucks first one testicle and then the next into her mouth, slurping and moaning all the while. Above her head, my engorged cock throbs and bucks. Precums practically spurts from it, sliding down my length, dripping into Mom's hair. She sweeps her hair back in a black wave, tucking it behind her ear.

Mom releases my balls. Her lips press against the base of my dick, her tongue lashes out to lick me. She kisses and licks her way back up to the top of my cock, sucking and slurping away the river of precum I am producing along the way. She suckles at the sensitive cockhead once more, then swallows me whole, forcing me into her throat. She hums. Her tongue caresses me. Her saliva bathes me. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks me in.

My head is reeling. Somewhere in there, I am terrified of what is happening, what this means, how my father, the world's greatest hero, will react when he inevitably learns of it. At the same time, this is the culmination of every dark and forbidden fantasy I have ever had. And it feels so much better than I ever imagined. I know I will not last much longer. Already I feel the tension building at the base of my cock. My dick swells, filling mother's mouth.

I look down for the first time, and I see her brilliant green eyes looking up at me. They crinkle in a smile. She sucks harder.

"Mom," I whine, as my climax builds, "I can't hold back."

This is important. I'm as superhuman as my parents or my sisters. I have to maintain control at all times, especially during the sex act. All those starlets and models I've fucked couldn't have handled me cutting loose. I have to be careful all the time. I've trained myself over the years to be careful, helped by my parents and my more experienced sisters. I have very fine control, as any woman I have been with before could gladly tell you.

But this woman has shredded that control. The taboo nature of this act has stimulated me beyond reason.

"Don't, baby," Mom says, momentarily releasing me from the sweet prison of her beautiful mouth. "Let it come. I want to taste you."

With those words comes the realization that I don't have to hold back. This woman is superhuman. She can handle me. I can let go.

Mom plants her lips around the head of my cock once more, letting only the first few inches of my engorged member into her mouth. Her hand grips me and strokes me, urging my release. Her other hand gently squeezes my balls. I pass the point of no return.

With a roar, I unleash my load into my mother's mouth. My cock shudders and bucks, splattering her tongue and throat with my goo. Jet after jet erupts from my spurting cock, spraying straight down her throat. Her cheeks bulge, her nostrils flare, and her eyes widen. Still I cum. Mom adjusts her grip, pulling me slightly out of her mouth as she swallows. She parts her lips, showing me the head of my cock as it constricts and sends another voluminous white rope across her pink tongue. Her hand never stops moving, coaxing every tremendous spurt, every last precious drop. When her mouth is full, she directs my erupting cock at her throat and chest. Splatters of white slime stain her uniform, and a river of cum pours between her huge tits and down her belly.

At last, I stand spent and shaking, and my cock sends a final white splat onto Mom's cheek. I lurch backward a step and watch in lustful horror as my mother carefully swallows the prodigious load I have left in her mouth. As her throat works, she peels her gloves off. Her tongue darts out to lick the splatter on her cheek, and then perversely, deliciously, she begins to scoop up the pools of cum across her heaving breasts with her bare hands and feeds my semen between her lips.

She stands smoothly. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, her lips moist with her fluids and mine. She smiles at me, brilliant and beautiful.

"Mom," say, catching my breath. "I've never cum like that." It's a stupid thing to say, but it's out of my mouth while the endorphins are still raging through my system.

"We aren't done yet. In fact, we're just getting started." She reaches behind her and unzips her uniform. With a shrug that sends her huge tits bouncing, she gets her shoulders free. Then she turns around. I watch in fascination as she peels her uniform off her pneumatic form. Her back is smooth and muscled, half hidden by her long black hair. Even from behind, I can see the full globes of her breasts as they project outward from her chest.

My heart skips a beat as she slips the bunched up uniform past her waist. She bends forward, thrusting her rounded backside towards me as her uniform slides off her form. Her ass is perfectly shaped, like the softest, roundest peach I have ever seen. She wears a thong, I see, gold in color, practically disappearing between her perfect cheeks. And then her uniform is peeled off her long, muscled legs, and she begins to unbuckle her boots.

I've had enough. I step forward, run my hands along her back. Her skin is hot to the touch, almost feverish. She moans as my fingers graze her, and then purrs as my cock nudges against her ass. I step closer, and my hardening cock saws along the cleavage of her cheeks.

Mom lifts up off the ground, levitating, as she kicks off her boots and the last of her clothes. Her ass pushes against my dick, and a dollop of precum drips onto the small of her back. "Oh God," she hisses. "Hard again, baby?" She throws a smoldering look over her shoulder, tossing her midnight hair back.

My hands find her narrow waist, nearly encircling it, and then slide up her flanks. She shivers with lust beneath me, breathing heavily. I cup her naked tits in my hands, feeling their pendulous weight against my fingertips. My turn to groan. Soft and full, they spill out of my fingers, too much to be contained by my hands. Her nipples are hard as steel. I give them a pinch. Mom's breath hitches.

She still looks at me over her shoulder, white teeth pressing into her full lower lip. "Do you like mommy's titties, baby?" I grunt assent. "I like your hands on them," she continues. Her hands cover mine, press them into her, tighten my grip. Her ass butts ups against my throbbing dick. I know where this is going, or think I do.

Mom slips out of my hold, pirouetting, still hovering. Her breasts heave as she spins, bouncing happily and saucily. My jaw drops against my will and my eyes open wide. They are perfect, more perfect than anything I have ever seen. Or ever expected to see.

Mom's breasts are huge and full; the uniform must be designed to minimize them somewhat, because as big as they look in the skintight costume, they look even bigger now, unfettered and revealed to my avid gaze. She has no tanlines. Her tits are the same warm bronze as the rest of her complexion, without blemish or stretch marks, tipped by hard dark nipples as wide as silver dollars. Despite their size and weight, her breasts remain as perky and bouncy as a teenager's, riding high on her chest. All natural and superhuman, my mother's breasts create an awesome valley of cleavage as she presses them together. She is posing for me, teasing me.

I am distantly aware that my cockhead is brushing up against the sodden panel of her thong panties. Behind it lies her sweet pussy.

She rises slowly in my arms, her huge breasts brushing against my chest. She grips my collar and casually tears my shirt off my body, revealing my hairless, muscled body. She runs her fingers across my pecs, caressing my arms and shoulders. Mom smiles and leans forward, kissing me lightly on the lips. Then more fiercely, her tongue presses against my own, tasting faintly of my own jism, and we wrestle briefly. Still she rises. Her tits flow against my upper chest and throat, their firm softness enveloping me. Her lips leave me, but her nipples beckon.

I grab both breasts with my hands, pressing them together. My lips and tongue bathe her nipples and cleavage and the slopes of her breasts. I force my head into the valley between them. She smells of sweat and sex and a hint of spice. I drag my tongue along her breastbone.

She glides upward and away. I kiss her abdomen, her flat belly. Her scent rises up to me, and I see that the thong is gone, torn away by my mother while I was distracted by her fantastic breasts. My heart skips another beat as her pussy is revealed to me. A small patch of neatly trimmed black hair crowns her pubis, and beneath that are her enflamed pussy lips, bright pink and weeping. The nubbin of her clitoris is clearly visible, shiny with fluid. I lick my lips.

Mom's muscular thighs come up onto my shoulders and she hooks her knees around them. Her dainty feet press against my chest. Mom settles down. "Your turn, baby," she says huskily. "Make mommy happy."

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bydellagordo© 25 comments/ 157408 views/ 174 favorites

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