See Your Mom

The answer was obvious. Your Mom had always been there for you, had always looked at for you, had always had your best interests at heart. Your Dad wouldn’t understand, your sister would just laugh, your best friend would probably try to cop a feel. No. It had to be her.

You slip off your sweatpants and T-shirt, wanting to change into something a little more presentable, and freeze completely when you see the body in the mirror. Pale, perky tits, the ends turned up and topped with little pink nubs, trim athletic thighs leading up to full hips and a round ass, a flat stomach and a narrow waist… and of course the smooth mound between your legs, the source of the pulsing warmth and vague dampness you’ve been feeling since you first noticed your new form.

Get it together Jack. Time to focus.

Trying your best to ignore the sight in front of you, and the growing urge to begin a full and in-depth exploration of what it had to offer, you quickly pull on boxer briefs and jeans that cling snugly to your ass, and a never-worn black tank top that offers a tantalizing glimpse of the swell of your breasts and the beginning of your cleavage. A brief glance in the mirror confirms what you already knew: I look like a girl. A very, very hot one.

No time for that now. You sneak out your door, trying to move fast but without attracting attention from your sister, and move quietly down the stairs, towards the kitchen, where you can hear the sounds of your mother humming and eggs sizzling. There you’re greeted with a familiar sight.

Lucy’s ass was rounder, and yours was far more tight. And when you would fantasize your mind would typically turn to Samantha’s, your crush. But when it came to sheer size, Diane had you all beat. Your mother’s full, fat cheeks swayed gently, stretching against her yoga pants, as she turned off the heat and carried the frying pan over to the kitchen counter, giving you a glimpse of her broad chest, her top providing full coverage but still unable to hide just how fucking big they were. In spite of these prodigious assets your mom put in the work to keep the rest of her body slim and tight; her stomach and breasts had the natural sag of middle age, but far less than would be expected. And her face, though with its share of wrinkles, was as pretty as ever, with her lightly tanned skin, full red lips, and warm brown eyes, the kind that only ever looked at you with acceptance and love. And that was what gave you the courage to use, for the first time, your new voice.

“Mom?”

“Lucy?” she began, beginning to turn to you. “I didn’t think you’d be up so-”

And the frying pan clattered to the kitchen as she stared at you, her mouth agape.

“Oh, my Lord. Jack?”