A rude awakening

*Crash!*

As it turns out, soundproofing a room only works if the door's shut.

John was jolted out of a pleasant dream of his stepmother giving him a boobjob by a loud crash as his angry (and real) stepmother burst through the door to his basement room, enraged by his lack of response to her calls.

"Get your lazy ass out of bed and come eat your breakfast!", Jane exclaimed. "That tiny-dicked asshole's will doesn't require me to provide room service! My lawyer says unless I record you eating a healthy meal at least once a day until you can support yourself financially, the house reverts to your ownership. I didn't put up with that dickless wonder for five years to get nothing for it! Now get moving, I need to get some real dick and encourage my lawyer at the same time."

John wasn't paying attention, as he had been distracted by his stepmothers massive fake tits.
He had seen those tits just moments ago naked and wrapped around his dick in a dream, and though his now actually above average cock tented his boxers, it wasn't noticeable under the heavy comforter that he had to use in the cold basement room.
his stepmother was actually only about 5 years older than he, and hours of daily exercise combined with tens of thousands of dollars in cosmetic surgery had long ago given her the body she used to fuel her lusts.

Lusts for wealth and luxury, to be sure, but her real lust was for cock. Not just any cocks, she desired the largest dicks she could find, and had at least 3 lovers at any one time, switching them out "so they could recover" from time to time.
In short, his stepmother was a nymphomaniac MILF size queen with the body of a porn star, and if he wasn't living the odd sort of hell it actually was, John would think he was stuck in a porn movie.

He'd snuck a peek at her bra tag once, and it had triggered a feverish internet search for women with similarly sized breasts. None of them were as symmetrical as hers though. He had never actually seen her naked, although her usual clothing choices ranged from skintight to sheer...when she wasn't testing the limits of tiny patches of cloth connected with strings.

John had to be very careful getting out of the swimming pool when his stepmother or stepsisters were around.

His stepsisters Barbi and Cindi didn't approach the sexiness of their mother, but they were on the path. She had been training them for years, and at 19 his younger stepsister had already had two breast enhancement surgeries along with several other minor "upgrades", bringing her already naturally large boobs up to a hefty G-cup, thickening her lips, and enhancing her posterior via fat transfer. His older stepsister Cindi, who had recently turned 20, already had undergone 5 breast implant surgeries, following the maxim her mother had drilled into her from the age of 15, "One increase every 6 months once you turn 18, until the doctors tell you to slow down, but keep pushing even then." Along with it's companion, "Time them so you can get one for each birthday at least, it's an easy present for your men to give, and as much one for them as it is for you...besides, they like to compete for it."
Cindi had of course undergone other procedures along the way, but her originally smaller natural breasts had limited how far she could push it each time, so despite the additional time she was only slightly larger at an H-cup.

John didn't know what size his stepmother was at, that bra tag was from 2 years and at least 4 surgeries ago. So she was definitely larger than an O cup. Besides, a year ago she'd had expandable implants put in, and he guessed she was getting more volume added every month at this point. She faced diminishing returns for the same cost these days, but the salivating potential husbands she was stringing along (and hiding her lovers from) damn near fought to buy her whatever upgrades she wished.
All of them were fit and toned, of course. The home gym and hung trainers his stepmother insisted on kept them that way. The men who funded her didn't know about the special exercises, of course...or didn't care, if they did. Everyone has a kink, and no one understands them all.

Life was hell when you literally lived UNDER nymphomaniac bimbos who hated you.

*SLAP*

Jane slapped him. "Stop staring at my tits and go eat breakfast! Put some pants on, I don't want to risk seeing your tiny dick. And make sure to tell Barbi before you start, it's her turn to film it."
His stepmother had never seen his dick, of course, but she based her assumptions of it's size (accurately...before yesterday) on his father, and without wealth or power to cover for it, let her true scorn of any man without at least 10 thick inches out when in private.

Grumbling under his breath, John reached for his favorite baggy sweat pants. With how cold Jane kept any part of the house she allowed him to enter (at least, when she was paying attention), he didn't have many light clothes except in the summer. His father had neglected to specify temperatures in his will, although John thanked him daily for the precision of that "support himself financially" clause.

He couldn't risk writing in an invisible (to her) book while his stepmother was watching him, so he finished dressing and went upstairs.
His stepmother only allowed him to follow her anywhere when she wanted a laugh, he tended to get distracted by the stupendous proportions and motions of her ass and run into things.

Author's note: Slight edit to Jane and oldest stepsister ages in this and the next chapter to avoid implying John's stepmom got married to a stockbroker and had a kid when she was 17.