Viral Sensation

"Jesus, Jack." Daphne wiped a stray slug of semen out of an eyebrow, regaining her footing as she stood. "I didn't even know so much cum was possible. I know a urologist who woul-" Jack's cock stood, unflagging, a dollop of cum spiralling out from the tip to splash on the floor. She stared at it, then began unbuttoning her blouse. "Absolutely ruined," she muttered before shrugging out of it and throwing the garment aside, along with her blazer.

The seamless nude cups of her bra were overflowing with voluminous breast flesh, heaving and threatening to overflow as Daphne's shortened breath came in shuddering heaves.

"Have you ever even seen real tits before, sweetheart?" She asked with a wry smile. Jack shook his head, gaze locked squarely on her chest. "Are you a virgin, Jack?"

"Y-yeah," he said in a husky voice. "Before I was never- I mean, I didn't look like- girls didn't want-" he gestured helplessly at his lean form, brand new musculature rippling as he did.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that anymore," Daphne replied, slurping a wad of cream from her middle finger. "God, why do you taste so *good*?" She scraped an errant streamer of cum off the upper slope of her tits, and stuck her finger in her mouth with a warm "mmmmmm."

"Whatever it is, your father certainly doesn't taste like this." She smacked her lips. "Though I haven't had him in my mouth for so long he could taste like anything by now." Jack's cock was twitching, and she watched it like a songbird watches a snake, mesmerized by every movement.

"Do you want to see real tits, honey?" She asked, only peripherally aware of his nod. "Do you want to see mommy's?" Without really waiting for an answer, Daphne reached behind her back and unsnapped the clasp of her bra. She slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let her tits spring free. She was aware that they were no longer rode as high or as firmly as a girl Jack's age, but as his mother's fat, voluminous breasts jostled against one another, pendant teardrops capped with the thick brown plugs of her nipples, she watched his eyes go wide and his cock jump and knew it didn't matter.

"Lose the pants," she said, gesturing with a finger. "And come here." Jack didn't waste a second, trying to yank his pants off and walk at the same time, managing to stumble forward as he did, one hand landing on Daphne's left breast while his face found a soft, warm nest in between them.

"Suck it," she instructed, and her son's mouth latched onto her other tit, lips and tongue working away at it.

"Harder," she said imperiously. "You don't need to be gentle with me, Jack. Bite it." Daphne gasped as his teeth sunk into her sensitive flesh and his cock pressed insistently against her thigh, leaving a silvery trail on the black fabric. She held his head tightly to her, pressing his face deep into the yielding mature flesh, practically drowning him in her breast. She'd never nursed him as a baby, but now she knew his mouth belonged there, sucking and biting at her nipple.

Reaching down with her free hand, she found his cock, and gave it a few experimental strokes. It was as hard as ever, showing no signs of softening or fatigue. It was so perfectly huge, she reflected; amply sized to take on her plush pussy, but not intimidatingly so.

"Fuck it," Daphne grunted, suddenly pushing Jack's face away from her. He looked up at her, confused and horny and slightly stupid still from having just cum.

"Fuck it," she said again, unbuttoning her pants and wriggling them down over her muscular ass, revealing the silky, silvery thong she wore underneath. Daphne turned, grabbed the countertop with one hand, and used the other to shove the gusset of her panties to one side, revealing the luscious inner lips of her pussy, cushioned by her bare vulva.

"Fuck it!" She looked her son in the eye, spreading her labia wide with sticky fingers, showing off the needy, pulsing hole between them. "I said fuck it, young man!"

Jack needed no further encouragement, and strode up behind his mother, grabbing a hip in either hand. She reached down between her legs and guided his inexperienced cock to her slicked up pussy.

"Do it!" Daphne commanded, then grunted as his huge cockhead popped inside her clasping cunt. "Fuck," she said through gritted teeth. "Fuck you're big." Using her hips for leverage, Jack began squeezing his thickness inside of her, filling her almost to bursting, stretching the walls of her pussy up to, but not over, the brink of discomfort. Instead, Jack's cock filled her up as she'd never been filled before, like a hand in a glove, working its way into every nook and cranny until his hips met the curve of her ass and the head of his cock bumped up against her cervix.

He was *just* the right size to fill her cunt to its maximum capacity without actually hurting her. He was perfect, like his cock was custom built for his mother's clasping, slippery hole.

"Don't just stand there," she said, breathless, adjusting to the new sensation of having her pussy filled as it should be. "Fuck me!" Slowly, cautiously, Jack began to draw his cock back out of her, then slid it back in, his hips cushioned by her plush buttocks.

"What are you doing?" She complained. "I told you to fuck me now *fuck me*!" With that, Daphne shoved herself back against him, hard. Flesh slapped against flesh, and Jack watched her ass ripple as the shockwave flowed through it.

She heard him snarl, and his fingers dug deep into her hips. His cock drew back, then slammed forward, shoving her roughly against the countertop. Then again, and again, and soon the kitchen was filled with the snap of skin slapping against skin as Daphne hung onto the kitchen counter while her son slamfucked her for all he was worth. He pushed her forward and soon she was standing on her toes, bent over the counter, one knee crooked and her bootie in the air, then both, body nailed in place by Jack's remorseless pounding.

"Harder!" She shouted back over her shoulder. "Fuck me harder you son of a bitch! Fill me the fuck up with your big fat cock and fuck me like your limp dicked dad never could!"

That really brought out the animal in him, and Jack began relentlessly fucking her double time, grunting and puffing like an ox in a harness. With every stroke, Daphne could feel the suction pulling on her, threatening, it seemed, to draw her inside out if he should piston backwards too far; every downstroke hammered his cockhead into her g-spot and dragged another wet, needy grunt out of her mouth.

"Yes!" Daphne enthused. "Fuck me like like I *need* to be fucked! Fuck mommy with that big stud cock and make me cum!" Her hips wriggled around on Jack's cock, attempting to wrest some level of control from him, but there was no wrangling his animal thrusts, the sheer lust-fueled power of his cock as it pounded into her; for the first time in her life, all she could do was simply relax into the pleasure and enjoy the ride. It felt good to relinquish control, even if temporarily.

He was bent low over her now, his face pressed into her back, teeth gnawing against her shoulder blade.

"Mom!" Jack grunted with each thrust, chanting as if it were his mantra, "Mom! Mom! Mom! Fuck! Mom!"

"Fuck mom!" She agreed, a dopey grin crawling across her features; Daphne's eyes rolled back into her head, and fireworks began sparking into her vision. "Yes! Fuck mom!" Her toes curled inside her shoes, and her thighs began to quake. "Make mommy cum!"

Liquid splattered against the kitchen tile as Daphne started bucking and spasming, muscles coiling and uncoiling as her body was wracked with ecstasy. Her heels kicked and one of her ankle boots clattered to the floor; wordless cries were rose to a crescendo each time Jack bottomed out inside her pussy, and her hips corkscrewed around, trying to wring every last ounce of pleasure out of his swollen cock that she could.

"Jack!" She shouted, suddenly, catching her breath. "Fucking cum in me, you son of a bitch! Fucking fill me up!"

"Fuck. Fuck shit fuck, Mom!" Jack grunted into her back. Her son's balls jumped and his cock momentarily swelled to an even greater girth, as the first spurt of cum splashed against the heated walls of Daphne's clasping pussy. He couldn't stop thrusting into her as he came, and soon the floor beneath them was awash with their mingled fluids.

She lost track of time, but eventually Jack's body went rigid one last time and he released a long-held breath, stepping away from his mother's limp body. A torrent of liquid was released when the thick plug of his prick fell free. No longer nailed to the counter by the force of his thrusts, Daphne sank to the floor, too dopey on her own endorphins to stand. Their cooling spend soaked through her pants and into her skin.

Panting, she rolled over and regarded her son. Jack leaned against the fridge, chest heaving, beads of sweat rolling through the channels cut between his prominent muscles. His dick, shining and slick and dripping, pointed down at the floor, showing its first signs of satisfaction in two days. He regarded her with lidded eyes and lazily scratched at his balls.

"I think maybe you're too sick to go to school after all," she said with a wolfish grin. "Let's get you back to bed."

"Sure," he said. "Whatever you say."

"Good," Daphne replied. "But my bed this time, not yours."

--

"Ugh! Ted, I told you- I *told* you Dr. Oyama was only too happy to, to switch." Daphne held the phone to her ear with a shoulder.

"What?" Her lip curled in a snarl. "No, Ted I *don't* believe that I'm 'being irresponsible' or 'ignoring the needs of our patients.' My *son* is the only patient that matters to me right now and-" she ruffled Jack's hair playfully as she pretended to listen to the phone. "Well, I don't give a damn that I missed the meeting. Oh?"

Daphne contemplated her bare foot, outstretched on a nearby coffee table. She wiggled her toes. They needed repainting.

Her toes bunched up suddenly.

"No, no!" She said, struggling to keep the phone where it was. "You can- you can tell the board that they can go suck- sssuck a tailpipe- fuck! Fuck as far as I'm concerned." Her fingers clenched and then the mobile clattered to the floor, Ted's tinny voice unheeded as Daphne's body arched off the couch. Strangled gasps burst out of her as she came as quietly as she could manage. Between her legs, Jack was grinning.

"Goodbye, Ted!" Daphne said in a loud voice once she'd recovered her breath. Lightning fast, she reached down and snatched up the phone, hanging it up with an angry thumb.

"That's enough, you little shit," she said with a laugh, shoving him away with a bare foot. A pair of spandex yoga shorts dangled from her other ankle.

"You sure?" He said, relaxing against the arm of the couch. His chin glistened, dripping with her juices. Jack wore a pair of loose basketball shorts that did nothing to hide the bulge of his cock running along his left thigh, and nothing else. He scratched his stomach.

"Reasonably sure," Daphne said, hooking her foot back into her shorts, and yanking them up over her ass. The wetness between her thighs was starting to cool, but she didn't care. Jack watched her long, muscular legs scissoring. "I need to rehydrate and recharge before I go to work."

"Well if it's fluid you need..." Her son grinned. Jack flexed his abdominals, and his cock twitched in his shorts.

A bead of precum appeared on his thigh, rolling down to his knee. Daphne bit her lip.

"Maybe later, Romeo," she said. "If I'm working from eight til eight, I'll need some real food in me at some point, and a girl can't live on protein alone, no matter how tasty it is." Her bare foot dragged itself up his thigh, toes sliding inside the leg of his shorts.

"It's too bad you'll be at Uni by the time I get home." She said.

"School." Jack made a disgusted noise in his throat. "Do I have to?"

Daphne's foot moved inside his shorts. "I thought you loved school?"

"I dunno." His brow furrowed. "Maybe I can think of more important stuff to-"

The front door opened and slammed shut.

"Hellooo!" Charles shouted as he walked in. He strode into the living room, tossing his jacket down on a nearby armchair. His wife and son were watching television on opposite ends of the couch, a blanket tossed loosely over them both.

"What are you doing home?" He said, coming over to kiss Daphne on the brow; her skin was a little damp. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No," she laughed. "Jack took a funny turn after you left, so I stayed home to look after him. I switched shifts with Yuri. I'm going in tonight at eight." Her legs moved under the blanket.

"Ah," her husband said, standing up. He regarded his son. "I was right after all! So much for doctors. How are you feeling, Jackie-boy?"

"Good," the kid said. His face was flushed and his eyes a little unfocused. "Getting better."

"Think you'll go to class tomorrow?" Daphne stretched out, catlike, as Charles spoke. Jack stirred, and opened his mouth to answer.

"I think at least one more day is probably in order," his mother said, instead. "Just to be sure we get it all out of his system." Jack just nodded.

"Man you must be sick if your mom is advocating for rest at home," Charles chuckled.

"There's a serious bug going around," Daphne said sternly. "I just want to make sure our son gets the best. Care. Possible." Jack stirred, and his face got redder. "I can keep him under my observation *all day* tomorrow after my shift, unless you want to."

Charles held up his hands in mock surrender. "No way," he said. "I've got meetings all this week, plus a conference in Phoenix to prep for. I don't want to come down with whatever he's got. Sorry buddy, you're in your mom's hands for the duration."

"Not just my hands," she said cryptically.

"I-I don't mind, dad." Jack said, a dopey grin crossing his features. "I kinda like- like hanging out with mom. She takes g- goooood care of me."

"I'm sure you'll return the favour sometime," Daphne said with a sly smile.

Charles looked from one to the other, mildly confused. "Well." He loosened his tie. "I'm going to go change, and I guess we'll order out for supper?"

"Sure dad," Jack's head lolled a little to one side. "Whatever."

Daphne held her son in her gaze, not bothering to look up at Charles. "If you're going to shower, don't use up all the hot water. I'll need one myself before I go to the hospital."

"Uh, yeah. Okay." Her husband pulled his tie out from his collar and headed upstairs. He didn't see his wife draw her cumslick foot from the blanket as soon as his back was turned, and he certainly didn't see her bend over double and start licking it.

--

A Tuesday-into-Wednesday overnight was bound to be slow: few admissions, fewer consults, fewer still fires to put out. It had been a while since Daphne had pulled one, and she hadn't realized what an opportunity it presented to catch up on paperwork while doing her rounds.

As she'd expected, there'd been a rash of MF cases over the last couple of days. Well, not so much a rash as a wave: a couple dozen young men, largely students from the University, had been admitted, all showing symptoms consistent with the virus. Not long after, a couple of hours in some cases, almost all had been discharged again, most of them by their mothers. Each chart was so eerily similar that Daphne was done reviewing them before she'd gotten an hour into her shift.

She propped her feet up on her desk in their comfortable shoes, and tapped a pen against her mouth. On a whim, she picked up the phone.

"Hello? Mrs. Williams? Yes, this is Dr. Ryerson from St. Lucia Memorial Hospital, I'm just doing a follow-up on your son, Derek and- hello?" She gave the receiver a quizzical look.

It took four more calls until Daphne found someone who would talk to her.

"No, Mrs. Laramie, this isn't about a bill, that's a different department."

"That's Miz Laramie to you," said the strident voice on the other end of the line. "Who did you say you were again?"

"My name is Dr. Ryerson, I'm just doing some follow up on your son - Gareth - I see here he was admitted this morning but you discharged him before the lab results were-"

"His *father* brought him in," the woman on the other end said the word in the same way one might have said 'cockroach' or 'slime mold.' "After he'd been sick a whole day. Gareth was on the mend by then, so we discharged him and *I* brought him home, where he belongs."

"Oh," said Daphne, walking on eggshells. "Well, I thought you might be interested to know that Gareth tested positive for a particularly virulent disease we've been calling the MF-"

"It can't be all that bad." Ms. Laramie said.

"Well it's a highly contagious pathogen that the CDC has issued-"

"Frankly, he's better now than he was before he got sick." The woman on the phone sniffed, and Daphne could hear rustling on the other end.

"Excuse me?"

"Doctor, my son has always been what you might call 'a handful,' and what I've always called 'a disobedient little shit.'" More rustling. "But for the last couple of days, he's been a very, *very* good boy, haven't you?" A muffled male voice said something. "In fact, you could say that now he's behaving like the young man I always wanted." Daphne could have sworn she heard a zipper. "So, quite frankly, I don't really give a shit what he had or didn't have. I have what I- ah! Deserve!"

Miz Laramie hung up without another word.

Daphne mulled that over as she did her rounds, distractedly checking in on a number of sleeping patients, reading their updated charts, consulting with folks down in the ER.

She strongly suspected, though she hadn't yet admitted it to herself, that Jack had been infected with MF. All the symptoms had presented, but she hadn't done any testing or followed through on the guidelines she'd been advocating for in the first place. They'd been too...distracted by other things. Even now, she felt a heat beginning to build between her thighs, just thinking about Jack and his sculpted body and divine cock.

What did that mean? In the cold light of the hospital fluorescents, it was objectively crazy; not only had her son developed a body that would have made David Beckham jealous, but he'd used it to make her cum more in the last day or so than she had in the last year. By the lights of any sane person, it was wrong and stupid and dangerous, but it made her pussy so slick with arousal she was seriously contemplating a visit to the ladies' to take the edge off.

Was it the virus? Had it changed something in both of them? Was she infected?

Daphne quickly and surreptitiously drew some of her own blood and sent it off to the lab for testing under somebody else's name.

The results came back in less than an hour, showing no sign of infection - no elevated white blood cells, no antibodies, no dead viral bodies, nothing. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but then realized that she had no more answers than before.

MF hadn't infected any women, had it? It strictly kept to a diet of young men, or so they said.

Before she left in the morning, Daphne pocketed a blood sampling kit.

Miz Laramie's words kept rattling around in her head: "The young man I always wanted."

She thought long and hard about her son. About his hard body, about his fat cock, about his unflagging sexual appetite. Is that what she wanted? What about school? What about his future? What about ensuring he wasn't like his father?

Well, he was certainly not like Charles now, she reflected; the very notion of a comparison between her limp dicked, aging husband and the young stud she'd left at home was laughable.

Daphne was resolved to get some answers as she walked in through the front door, sneakers squeaking on the porch tiles as she did. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and the loose green scrubs she'd worn that evening hung limply from her body.