Sweat Training

"Why would I be uncomfortable? I trust you as you are my son's friend." Mom explained. I hated that she actually thought we were friends.

“Okay Susan, first we need to get you warmed up. Do you have any workout clothes?” James asked. I knew Mom didn’t have any workout clothes; she wore her skimpy clothes everywhere.

“Oh dear, I don’t have any. Can I wear what I’m wearing?” Mom asked, looking down at her skirt and tank top. I knew James would love that.

To my surprise, James declined, "No, no, no, those clothes are not suitable for the task at hand. Let me see what else you've got." James waltzed over to Mom's bedroom, leaving mom and I on our own.

"Mom, he's lying to you!" I said, exasperated.

"Ron, honey, James knows what he's doing. His dad taught him well," Mom said. She didn't understand a thing. Suddenly, James emerged from the room, in his hands, he clutched a tiny, white, plaid tennis skirt and a plain white bra.

"Here, put this on." James said. I scowled at the level of authority he exuded.

"James, honey, that skirt is too short! And that bra? It's too small!" Mom protested.

"Please, I know what I'm doing. This is what you need to wear to save your family," he said, talking to her chest.

"Okay," Mom said, taking the clothes from him. She disappeared into her room.

Mom returned wearing the tiny skirt that barely covered her ass and the tight bra that squeezed her breasts together, making them bulge outwards. Her nipples were visible through the thin fabric.

"Before we begin the sweat training, I need to ensure that you are following the rules that I outlined yesterday: I will make an exception for you wearing a bra; it is necessary for absorbing the viral particles, but I need to ensure you are wearing no panties" James stated, approaching mom.

"I'm not wearing any," Mom assured him awkwardly.

"I do trust you, but I need to check" James explained, "It's what we do in the medical industry."

"Oh- ok." Mom mumbled.

My stomach churned with jealousy as my nemesis lifted the tiny skirt up, revealing Mom's pale, Asian, bubble butt. "Hmm, it seems to be alright, although I need to check deeper to ensure that you haven't hidden the panties in your buttcrack." James explained, as if he were a normal doctor.

"James, I think you can believe Mom. Why would the entirety of her panties be stuffed up her butt crack?" I said, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

"Ron, honey, James knows what he's doing." Mom said, reassuring me. Suddenly... "Youch!" mom exclaimed as James' thumb thrust up her ass.

"Sorry Susan, I needed to check deeper." James said, pulling his thumb out.

"It's alright" Mom mumbled, obviously exasperated. "Should we start the sweat training?"

"Yes Susan, we will start now. First, I need you to bend over and touch your toes." James commanded.

Mom bent over, her skirt hiking up to reveal her bare ass. Her breasts strained against the bra, threatening to spill out. "Like this?" she asked.

"Perfect" James said, his eyes glued to her ass. "Now hold that position." James walked behind her, placing his hands on her hips.

"We need to stimulate sweat glands," he explained, sliding his hands down her thighs. "Susan, I need you to arch your back more," James ordered, pressing his groin against her ass. Mom obeyed, arching deeper. Her breathing hitched as James's erection pressed against her.

"Is... is this helping?" she whispered.

"Immensely," James murmured, hands roaming her thighs. "Now slowly rise... but keep your back arched." Mom rose slowly, James's hands sliding up her inner thighs. Her bra strained as she gasped.

"James... that feels..." she trailed off.

"Crucial for immunity," James breathed, fingers brushing her exposed mound. "Your skin's heating up perfectly." It was true, by this point, mom's skin was enveloped in a layer of sweat. But this only served to make her body shiny and ever more appealing. Mom trembled as James's fingers traced her wet folds.

"Oh!" she cried out, arching further into his touch. "Is this... sweat training?"

"Exactly," James growled, pressing himself harder against her. "Your body's responding beautifully. Now, spread your legs wider." He slid a hand between her thighs, fingers finding her slick entrance. "Deep breaths, Susan. We need maximum perspiration."

Mom gasped, her knees buckling slightly as James's fingers pushed inside. "James... it's... intense!" Her bra strained, nipples pebbling visibly.

"Ron, do me a favour, will you?" James, asked, his voice dripping with a faux politeness. "I need you to grab my phone and take a frontal picture of your mother from the waist up. It'll be useful for sending to my father for advice."

"Oh, yes Ron, please!" Mom moaned, oblivious. "James's father... he'll know... if I'm doing it right!" Her hips rocked against James's invading fingers. I hesitated, fists clenched. (This is sick. But if I refuse, Mom will think I'm sabotaging her "treatment.") Finally, I grabbed the phone with trembling hands.

"Say cheese, Mom," I muttered bitterly, snapping the photo of her flushed face, heaving breasts, and James's hands disappearing under her skirt.

"And a close-up of her bra (I need to know if the viral particles are being absorbed) and her abs (I need to check how her muscle mass is responding to the treatment)" James ordered.

Mom gasped, struggling, "Oh! Yes, I'm sure James knows best!" She arched her back further, pushing her sweat-slicked breasts toward my lens, as I snap some more photos.

Suddenly, James' fingers pulled out as mom collapsed. Before she could hit the ground, James' hands grabbed at her bra straps, breaking her fall. Her legs were weak and her tight abdominal muscles were visible under her shiny, pale skin. She swung gently like a pendulum, held up by her spaghetti bra straps, each one threatening to snap. I looked at James' face. James' eyes were glued to mom's chest and it was easy to see why. Her sweaty, slippery skin had allowed the bra to slip and shift, now covering less than half of her breasts. A generous eyeful of areola was visible, her nipples barely contained in the edges of her struggling, almost useless bra.