Training Tom Ch. 05: Humility Pt. 04

Her pace of strokes began to quicken, and Tom's breaths grew short.

"For example, your need to urinate or defecate should never be allowed to impair your ability to properly execute the tasks I give you. As such, when the urge becomes too great, you are permitted to gain my attention by looking Me in the eye. Then you will verbalize the words 'tinkle' or 'boom-boom' in the form of a question. Simultaneously, you will clutch the private part concerned and wiggle your little hips to demonstrate your need to go. I will then decide whether to grant your request. Understood?"

As she spoke, the backs of her fingers trailed repeated corkscrews around his cock from hilt to tip.

"Ah-ah-ah, yes, ah, Miss, ah-understood," Tom managed to stammer out as his body shook involuntarily under her ministrations.

"Similarly, as a horny little boy in the presence of my divine perfection, your arousal will often become too great a distraction from your duties," she continued as she applied light squeezes to his glans with her thumb and forefinger. "When this happens, you may look Me in the eye and ask to 'squirt-squirt' while you make a jacking off motion in the air with your hand. If asked properly, I may consider relieving you of your discomfort. This is a privilege of your servitude, but one not to be abused. If I decline, take care not to ask again too soon, or you will instead find yourself punished to such an extent that you will never make the same mistake again. Understood?"

Tom's eyes rolled back as Sophie's hand completely engulfed his cock, somehow morphing to generate textures and temperatures far beyond any vagina he had experienced. If he hadn't already cum multiple times that morning he would certainly have finished at that moment.

"Understood?" Sophie repeated sternly.

Her wrist began fluttering back and forth so fast it felt like a vibrator.

"Ah-understood-ah-Miss," Tom yelped, then sensing the rise of his semen, he looked up at her face and gasped with a pleading look, "Squirt-squirt?"

Sophie's eyes narrowed and her jaw set.

"No. You may not," she said coldly.

Her hand let go, and her middle finger suddenly flicked so hard at his dick that he bent forward in pain.

"That is a privilege for boys who progress in their training...which right now is in serious doubt," she clucked, then upon seeing his look of surprise and distress, added, "Even allowing for the pitiful performance of your duties so far, you neglected to ask with the hand gesture I so clearly explained moments ago. Such incompetence cannot be tolerated!"

Her other hand pinched his nipple and he squealed loudly. Then she touched briefly behind his ball sac.

"Disappear, little rabbit," she murmured, causing his dick to wither and turtle. "Fortunately for you, I have other means to cool your fires. Next leg. Get to it!"

Tom quickly regathered himself, thankful for her mercy at taming his arousal. He set about cleansing her other leg, concentrating deeply to carry out his task to perfection and avoid her wrath.

"Good work, boy. There is hope for you yet," Sophie commended, and he glowed with her approval. "Now I will stand up and you will continue with my frontside. Don't let your eyes wander lest you get distracted again. Stand at attention!"

Sophie's body emerged from the water with a whoosh, towering above him like an hourglass-shaped skyscraper. Liquid and suds wicked from her expansive surface area, cascading down to the tub in a torrential downpour. He quickly cast his eyes to the side and scrambled to his feet.

"Now kiss my tummy, then scrub like you did my legs," she ordered.

Tom quickly gazed ahead and leaned over slightly to kiss her stomach. Just as he touched her skin, her muscles abruptly flexed, and his face bounced away. He was immediately awestruck by the sight before him.

While in one moment her abdomen had been flat and smooth, now it looked like a tray of hamburger buns crowding each other in a baking pan: Six identical squares bulging more than an inch from the surface, separated by deep grooves. To each side, her washboard-like obliques formed exquisite, rippled contours: tight striations that sloped down and flowed into her protruding abs. After several seconds of slack-jawed revery, Tom realized he had forgotten to breathe and sucked in some much-needed oxygen.

"You seem surprised, boy?" Sophie taunted. "You've felt the power of my core every time I've held you suspended in the air or tossed you around like a rag doll. Feast your eyes...and memorize. Perfection that will forever define your perception of strength and beauty..."

Tom imagined his brain as a roll of film, cataloging her illustrious landscape, rugged and craggy like badlands, yet carved in intricate hemispheric symmetry. Unique to Her. Ideal in every way. The only body he could ever love...

"Now get back to work, boy," Sophie scoffed after an extended pause.

Tom shook his head, arousing himself from a mesmerized state of concentration. Returning to his task, he bent forward and planted his lips on the center of one of the swollen humps while his nose sank into a sinewed groove. He felt a flutter in his inverted penis as he marveled at the rock-solid cliff of muscle that had always been hidden in plain sight beneath her smooth, taut skin.

"Oop!" Sophie exclaimed, seemingly for no reason.

To Tom's puzzlement, his mouth began to water profusely. He sighed and pulled back to resume his duties, only to spy a white drip meandering down her top right ab. His eyes flicked upward, and his suspicion was confirmed: a thin line of milk trailed down the bottom side of her giant breast. He recalled her making a similar noise when her milk leaked after his arrival that morning. He felt drool pooling in the corners of his mouth, and he was consumed by the urge to dive forward and slurp up her mess. He ventured a pleading glance at her face, then looked hastily back down, realizing he was out of line.

Her hand shot out and snapped his chin up to look at Her. He shivered with fear. Her head cocked and her eyes briefly registered anger at his disrespectful gaff. Then her face softened.

"Obviously, your bodily needs also include sustenance," Sophie explained, and he sighed with relief at her mercy, "Hunger and thirst will be a frequent distraction from service. Luckily for you, I have taken complete responsibility for both - at great sacrifice to myself, I might add."

She eyed him expectantly and after an awkward pause he realized she meant for him to respond.

"Thank you, Miss," he said sheepishly, then feeling it insufficient, continued with uncanny eloquence, "What you provide is far superior to any Michelin-star meal I've ever tasted, more satisfying than the heartiest of suppers, more tantalizing than the sweetest of desserts, more invigorating than the most potent of elixirs..."

Sophie's gaze grew placid, and she nodded perceptibly. Tom's heart warmed at her seeming approval. Then she continued with his lesson:

"When you are famished and on the verge of being unable to function, you may gain my attention and ask for 'mookie' while you hold a hand in the air and make a squeezing gesture, like you're milking a Holstein's teat. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss," Tom said, doing his best to lock away the memory among the growing list of her degrading communication protocols.

Just then, his stomach grumbled loudly. Need became compulsion. And so, at the risk of her wrath and in spite of the shameful procedure, he lifted a hand within view and made a squeezing motion with his fist.

"Mookie, Mommy?" he asked timidly.

Sophie abruptly pursed her lips and squinted her eyes, causing Tom to tense up. Then just as quickly, her face melted into a big smile and her eyes sparkled, resplendent with delight at his properly choreographed request. His tension eased.

"Alas, your next meal isn't ready yet, little one," she said in a sympathetic voice. "However..."

Tom gazed into her eyes expectantly and saw them grow even warmer, seemingly hinting at her true affection for her manservant, if only for a moment. His soul welled with pride, and his stomach gurgled in anticipation.

"...seeing as Mommy had another oopsy from being so close to her baby, she will permit him to carefully lick up her little mess. But absolutely no suckling."

Her hand guided his chin back to her clenched abs and released him. Needing to appear careful, Tom diligently located the leading bead of milk which had worked its way into the vertical valley of her center line. Then he slowly extended his tongue toward it. It took all his mental strength not to dive impatiently into his task. Instead, he caught the droplet on the tip of his tongue, then pulled it in and savored its familiar exquisite taste, robust enough to overpower the slight taint of bath suds.

Exhilarated, he leaned back in and wove his tongue in a slow path up her valley, across the ravine beneath her projecting knoll, then up over its crest to where he first spied the thin rivulet. Despite having feasted on her fluids all morning, his hunger was suddenly insatiable. Straightening his body, he greedily followed the line of cream up her rib cage, gaining speed as the charge of her nutrients hit him. Then he tipped his head back and licked the bottom of her breast, following the residual line up and around the arc of her orb. The moment his tongue touched the fringe of her areola, her hand pressed on his head, arresting his journey.

"Back to the task...of washing...boy," she said with uncharacteristic hesitation, as if She too experienced the energy of his rush and ached for the intimacy of renewed attachment.

Tom welled with emotion at the unexpected chink in her armored facade. With a sigh, he loaded up the sponge and touched it to her bellybutton, eliciting a tiny twitch from her. His own navel suddenly tingled. Momentarily overcome, he reveled in the invisible umbilical connection that She proclaimed they would always share.

Sighing again, he began scrubbing out to her side in small circles, careful not to miss any contour or curve in her rigid wall of muscle. Mercifully, his hunger began to wane as he worked.

After completing both sides, he scooped water and rinsed her off, taking the opportunity to add resolution to his mental picture as his fingertips explored and probed. Finally, he stepped back and stood at attention without being told.

"Good work boy, you're learning," Sophie exuded warmly. "Now for my tits. I want you to take extra care to make them immaculate, entirely free of your grubby juvenile spittle. Cleanse them one at a time, starting with a kiss on each underside."

Tom looked up to see her giant globes suspended above him in all their gravity-defying glory. He felt a renewed pang of hunger, followed by a wash of gratitude as he was reminded how undeserving he was of such a privilege.

Afraid she would castigate him for delay, he reluctantly pulled his eyes down and began his work. After loading the soap, he lifted his chin and kissed the bottom of her tit, savoring its water balloon-like firmness. He couldn't resist pushing himself up on tiptoes to lift it slightly and feel the resistance of her immense mass, and the spring of her youthful perkiness. For a fleeting moment he almost lost control; the sensation was so enthralling he briefly fantasized about spending the remainder of the morning just pressing up into Her, again and again.

Cognizant of the dangers of lingering, he prudently pulled back, then began to scrub in small circles. He worked diligently around her large rosy areola where most of his drool from earlier had surely congregated. He took care to go around three times before putting the loofa over her nipple and spinning it gently to wash her teat.

"Harder, boy," she squawked, slapping him sharply on the ass.

He immediately squeezed down and jacked her nipple with a thumb and two fingers, eliciting a satisfied purr. It seemed to grow and throb with his added attention. He felt his cock begin to poke back out below, and he was suddenly wracked with deep embarrassment. His perception was oddly clouded, but somehow it seemed her expanding protrusion was in danger of outsizing his tiny phallus. He abruptly stopped stroking and Sophie issued a quiet, knowing snort.

"Good, now switch sides," she ordered with a pop of her knee to his groin, briefly stymying his arousal.

Tom sucked in a labored breath, then raised his head toward the bottom of her other boob. As he elevated on his tiptoes to kiss and heft it as before, he was unnerved to see it suddenly lift out of the way. Thinking she had moved to tiptoes as well, he flicked his eyes to the side and puzzlingly, her other breast had not risen.

He turned his eyes back upward just in time to see her tit fly back down and slap him in the face. The surprising force knocked him off balance. Sophie's hand caught him under his arm and righted him.

"Didn't expect that, eh?" she smirked, then she pulled his head into her cleavage. "How do you think my tits stay so perky, even while they double as your feed bags? Dumb luck?"

To Tom's disbelief, her tits began smacking his head back and forth, boxing his ears as adroitly - and forcefully - as if she were using her hands. Yet her shoulders remained square. Only her giant breasts moved as if by some otherworldly force.

The pounding abruptly stopped. His head ached and he felt dizzy. Then she grabbed both his hands and placed them where her chest met the top of her tits. Her flesh had the irresistible pliant squish of nubile breast tissue, and he eagerly accepted her invitation to squeeze and knead.

"Of all the overdeveloped muscles in my body, I'm proudest of my pectorals," Sophie stated as her chest slowly flexed, gradually erasing any hint of softness beneath Tom's fingertips, "Tits like these are a blessing and a curse, advancing my allure (and your calorie count), yet always threatening to hinder my athletic excellence. I've labored for countless hours, tweaking and refining each individual striation and band, building and layering an intricate lattice of natural support. They're like the cables of a suspension bridge, strong and taut yet flexible enough to withstand the harshest conditions...painstakingly engineered to maintain ideal form and function."

At her last words, Tom felt her upper chest turn to stone and both breasts lifted away from his temples in unison, suspended impossibly up and to the sides as if held by unseen puppeteers in the rafters. He felt suddenly vulnerable and deeply inferior.

To add insult to injury, her hand slipped down unseen and grasped his flabby chest, accosting him with a massive titty-twister. He let out a shrill cry, partly from the sharp tearing sensation, but also from the abject debasement of her exposing the depth of his infirmity.

He continued to watch, shaking with pain as Sophie inhaled a deep, long breath. Her chest filled and heaved outward. The solid globes rose even higher...

Without warning, they came crashing down like two giant wrecking balls; huge swinging pendula, driven by gravity, compounded by her cosmic mass, accelerated by the brute force of her pecs.

Upon impact, Tom's head wrung like a bell and stars appeared. A pounding throb erupted throughout his skull. He was momentarily transported to a time in college when he tried boxing, and a single right hook had exposed his glass jaw. Except this time the blow was harder - and came from both directions. All went dark...

***

A tart odor filled his nose, like smelling salts yet strangely appealing. He subconsciously began to sniff like a hound on a scent. The fog cleared and he opened his eyes, only to realize his face was buried deep in Sophie's armpit.

"Would it scare you to know that was only a fraction of the force my pecs are capable of generating?" she bragged, then she continued with a hint of menace, "So ironic that the giver of life may so easily take it away...or perhaps not so ironic?"

Tom shuddered, brought back to his senses by the strength of her pheromones and the repeated reminder of his mortality in her Domain. Then he shuddered again as he processed her final words, recognizing her macabre allusion as biblical, that she was describing the power of God - and ascribing it to Herself and her otherworldly breasts.

Before he finished processing the thought, her hand reached behind his head and pulled him to the side, pressing his forehead into the bottom of her mammary.

"Did you know that before I became your Mother, each of my tits was precisely the size of your little noggin?" Sophie asked in a haughty tone.

Tom felt his face sink deeper into her dense flesh, as if he were lying facedown on a mattress of memory foam. His feet gradually became lighter as her strong arm pulled him upward. He sucked in a breath of awe - and not a moment too soon - as her next motion fully engulfed his nose and mouth in her soft skin.

"Yet, with the miracle of your Rebirth and the wonder of my body, each breast is now just over a third wider than your little skull," she revealed as her hand rolled his head back and forth, demonstrating the expansive girth of her lactating orb. "Given their shape is perfectly spherical, do you know what that means for their volume?"

With a yank, she tipped his head up and pulled back, leaving his chin buried in her bosom with his mouth and nose freed. He gasped in air as his feet settled back on the bottom of the tub.

He looked up toward her face and saw her erect nipple partly obscuring his view. Momentarily distracted, he focused his eyes on it, discerning every little bump along its abnormal length; each little crease around its uncommon girth; and a plethora of tiny holes arrayed on its wide tip - the conduits from which he fed. The whole protruding mass throbbed perceptibly to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Like a pulsating cock, readying to ejaculate.

He felt a pang of jealousy at its size and potency, followed by the painful pounding of his own pulse in his rattled brain. Yet the knowledge of its noble and essential purpose also soothed him. With each thump of her life-giving shaft, his heartbeat gradually slowed to match her cadence.

He felt a terse squeeze on the back of his head, reminding him to respond to her question. Returning to his senses, he considered her impromptu math quiz. He wanted desperately to answer - and even more desperately to know the answer - but he was at a complete loss. His eyes telegraphed his failing.

"Tsk, tsk," she clucked disappointedly. "I should think you would remember your high school geometry given the importance of numbers in your field."

Tom felt a splash of shame at his stupidity and ignorance, but it was rapidly overridden by a deluge of arousal. He was struck by the memory of diddling with one of her bras and noting that his head could fit inside the huge 38DD cup. And now her tits were even bigger.

"The formula for the volume of a sphere is four thirds pi times the radius cubed," Sophie continued airily. "In comparing two spheres where one has a radius just over one third larger than the other, volume is amplified considerably."

She paused her dissertation for effect.

"As such, each of my tits has exactly 2.4 times the volume of your measly head," she announced. "Think about what that means little one...the sheer magnitude of such an expansion, the degree of transformation - of metamorphosis - into these hyper-efficient production plants that now nourish and rebuild your scrawny body. Imparting your metamorphosis."

Tom felt weak in his knees as he imagined his head - more than two of his heads - inside her breast. He visualized her indulgent breakfast as the input to a state-of-the-art refinery, processing her ingested food, and filling her expanded mammaries with an immense volume of life-giving nectar. Enough to sustain a full-size man-baby. Miraculously formulated to make him a better man - in the image of Her.