Your BBW mother wants to go on a diet

Half an hour later, you waltz into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel. Your mother is already there: after showering with her, you always need a few minutes of extra time to wash off all the spit, jizz, and icing sugar.

She's sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, gazing off into space. Pouring your own cup, you go to sit down beside her... Only to realize that she hasn't noticed your presence, and is still staring at the wall.

Uh oh. Maybe she needs a real dose?

"Hey, Mom," you say, dropping your towel to the floor and stroking your half-hard member. "Slide that cup over here."

"...Huh?" She blinks a few times, then her eyes lock onto your cockhead. She cringes at the sight, but also licks her lips. "Oh... Um... Thank you, sweetheart."

With a nod and a smile, you put one leg up on a chair, position your cock over her cup, and start beating your meat like your life depends on it. You have plenty of visual stimulation, too: Mom's old bathrobe no longer fits properly, leaving plenty of her huge, heavy tits on display.

"Hngh... Whatcha doing today?" You love making small talk with Mom while masturbating in front of her. She's so much less judgemental now that she's a dumb, fat whore.

"Well, uh... I..." It takes her a few seconds to think of an answer to that simple question. While she ponders, the only sound is your frantic masturbation. "Oh! I had something I wanted to talk to you about!"

"Oh?" You reach down to pull her bathrobe aside, exposing even more cleavage.

"Hey--" She moves as though she's going to swat you away... Then stops short as she sees a viscous droplet of your pre-cum leak out and plop down into her coffee. "Um, alright, if you need..." Sighing heavily, she shakes her head and collects her thoughts once more.

"Well? What?"

"Okay, now, d-don't be rude--"

"Spit it out, cum-chugger."

For a moment, she looks pissed... But when she's this starved for a dose, Mom doesn't hold grudges for long. "Sweetie, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly."

"Kay," you grunt, hurtling towards your climax.

"Do you, um... Do you think I'm getting fat?"

You can't even begin to hold back the long, loud laugh that escapes you... Nor the blast of cum that soon follows. Your BBW mother stares up at you, confused and alarmed, as you cackle and shoot ropes of jizz across the table.

After a moment you collect yourself enough to aim a few spurts into her coffee cup, still chuckling your butt off. A glance at her stupified face only redoubles your laughter: soon your legs are growing weak, so you practically collapse into your chair.

"Are you getting fat?"

"It's a serious question," she snaps, crossing her arms--As best she can, given the heavy rack that's in the way.

"Heh... Oh, man..." You clear your throat, then push her coffee back towards her. "Why don't you stop thinking about dumb shit, and slurp this like a good girl? Oh, wait, almost forgot..."

You reach over to the basket sitting in the middle of the table, where dozens of sugar packets are waiting. Picking up four at once, you rip them open and upend them into your mother's cup.

"That's just what I'm talking about," she whines. "Do I really need all of that stuff in my coffee?"

"I told you, it's crystallized, freeze-dried jizz," you lie, rolling your eyes. "Drink up."

She obeys, and for a minute you think she's going to drop the subject... But whether it's from the fresh dose in her coffee, the caffeine itself, or perhaps a sugar rush, she's soon back in debate-mode.

"I looked on the back of the little baggie thingies, and there's a ton of calorie. In my breakfast, too," she continues, pointing at the half-empty package of cupcakes that's sitting on the counter. "Some of the labels are kinda complicated, buuut I'm pretty sure I'm eating more junk than I used to!"

"Eh, probably just spooge-deprivation playing tricks on your memory--"

"Then why don't my old clothes fit properly anymore?" She tugs at her bathrobe, trying to keep both nipples covered. "Hon, I hate to break it to you, but I think your mother's getting a little chubby."

"Mom--"

"No, no, don't deny it. I don't need to be coddled... What I need is a regime."

"...What?"

"You're going to help me get back in shape," she says confidently, clearly quite proud to have come up with an original idea for the first time in several months. "Diet, exercise... The whole bit!"

Stunned, you sip your coffee and take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Shit. Just when I was getting used to having a fat fucktoy for a mom. Well, it probably won't be so bad... We've gotten her this far without much resistance, so I'm sure we can--

"That's a great idea," your father says from the doorway. He's dressed for work, and looking at Mom in a way he hasn't in months. Impressed by her initiative... And imagining her skinnier. Imagining getting back in her pants.

Glaring at him, you grit your teeth and reply: "...Yeah. Sure, Mom. I'll help. I still don't think you need to lose weight, but--"

"Perfect!" She smiles, then drains the last of her cum-infused, extra-sweet coffee. "How soon can we go shopping?"

"Shopping?"

"We're gonna need lots of stuff to get me skinny," she explains, leaping to her feet--Well, as much as a chunky MILF can. "Healthy food, exercise equipment--All the things the skinny girls on tickertock have!"

"That's not--"

"Marcus, listen to your mother," Dad says sternly, before turning and heading for the door. As he leaves, you hear him mumbling: "...Least you can do... Fix some of this mess... Little pervert..."

Goddammit. There goes my nice, easy life of feedin' and humpin'. With Dad less compliant and Mom acting all determined, this is gonna get a little more complicated--

"So! First thing's first: what exactly is 'calorie,' anyway?"

--Ah. Probably not THAT complicated, then.