An inconclusive lewd experiment.

I knew better than to try and go against the will of my mother's. Without hesitation, I shed my clothes as she had commanded. My mother stood up her chair and reached inside a box on the desk. She pulled out a hair clipper, a couple of glass vials, and a syringe that I was all too familiar with. It had been years since Trista Hart had taken samples from me for genetic testing. I had hated this process every time then, and this time would not change my opinion.

"Don't worry, baby, mommy will be gentle," Trista whispered in my ear as she pushed my head forward. The clippers buzzed to life as my mother extracted a patch of hair. "Ok, now give me your arm."

I hesitated. Needles had always terrified me.

"I know everyone treats you like a child, but, for once, I need you to act like the adult you actually are," Trista demanded in her sternest voice. Utterly shamed, I stuck out my arm, all while keeping my eyes averted from what was about to transpire.

A sharp prick in my arm and a few moments of pain followed by the clanking together of freshly filled glass vials along with the tight application of a neon green bandage let me know that the worst was over.

"I swear, the way you act anytime you have to take a small stick with a needle, people would think that you were a plus one or two instead of a plus thirteen," Trista admonished before pressing the call button on her desk. "Mia, can you come back in here, please?"

My eyes went wide with surprise. I could not believe my mother would have her hot assistant come back while I was nude. I tried to raise my voice in protest, but my anxiety caused my throat to close. When my mother's gorgeous secretary strolled back in and saw the state I was in, her eyes showed just the slightest hint of surprise. Quickly though, they shifted as a look of immense pleasure crept into her visage. The sultry brunet's salacious gaze caused the heat in my chest to return.

"How can I be of assistance Ms. Trista?" Mia asked as she continued to admire my body blatantly.

"My son chose to do a very foolish thing earlier today. I need you to take these samples of his down to the lab. Tell them I require a full spectral analysis. Also, remind them that I am not a patient woman. Do not divulge the identity of the person who the samples belong to," Trista said authoritatively.

"Of course, Ms. Hart. I hope Greg's poor judgment does not cause him any harm. We would not want anything bad to happen to such a... cute boy," Mia responded as she gave me a final appreciative glance before taking my samples and leaving.

"Could she be more of a fucking basic Onee-san?" My mother asked. I was a bit taken aback to hear Trista Hart curse much less disparage one of her employees with the derogatory slang term for an older woman who has a fetish for boys. "If your serum effects somehow manage to be permanent, that slut right there will be first in line to lose her virginity to you."

The thought of the Mia underneath me with my cock buried inside her while she wrapped those long luscious legs of hers around my waist brought a gigantic smile to my face. Her alabaster skin and long, athletic form would contrast nicely with my ruddy complexion and relatively short stature.

"I thought you would be more concerned with whether you had poisoned your system than if a whore would be willing to test out your cock?" Trista scolded me. Surprisingly, I thought I detected a slight hint of jealousy in her voice. I quickly put that aside as the absurd notion that it obviously was. She was just concerned that Mia had ill intentions for me. That was normal for a mother. There was no way she herself could be interested in me that way. We are parent and child after all.

"Now, why don't you tell me how the shoulder of your shirt became stained with green paint? I know it didn't come from any activity yours. I remember your grade school drawings and know that you do not have an artistic bone in your body," Trista asked while holding my ruined button-up before me in an accusing manner.

"Yeah... So I met this... uhm... artist chick on my bus ride this morning. And she gave me her card. Then after everything, I decided to go see her..." I stated extremely nervous as to what my mother's reply would be.

"Good lord Greg!" My mother was practically shouting. "Let me get this straight. You take your serum with no idea about the side effects. Then instead of going to the hospital or coming straight here, you go to visit a woman who just met this morning who had accosted..."

"I wouldn't say accosted," I interjected before Trista gave me a withering look that let me know I should keep my mouth shut until she finished.

"And considering the wrinkled state of your clothes, I can only assume you removed them and posed nude; IS THAT ABOUT RIGHT?" She asked her voice rising to a shout by the end of it.

"Yes, mother," I answered meekly.

"Your lack of judgment in all this astounding," Trista said, dropping her head. "Ok, so, to see if it was a physical reaction, I need to recreate exactly what was going on before you became erect. Tell me everything. Do not leave out a single detail."

My mouth dropped open at my mother's request. I stammered out. "Well, Carla..."

"Oh, so now you remember the hooker's name?" My mother spat out, the words sounding like vile poison as she interrupted me.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" I retorted.

"Sorry. Continue." She replied.

"So Carla was dressed more provocatively than you are. Just a tank top and cut off denim shorts." I explained.

"Hmmm, ok, I have an idea." My mother quickly stripped off her pants suit and stood before me in just her lacy jade green bra and panties. My mouth dropped as the sexy body of the one who gave birth to me was on display. Despite being in late her late forties Trista Hart's breasts were firm, her butt was nice and round, her stomach was flat, and her legs were toned.

"The benefits of wealth, plastic surgery, and the best genetic manipulation on the planet. Now quit gawking and continue explaining," Mother instructed though I thought I noticed a slight smile creep onto the edges of her face before it vanished again.

"Next Carla gave me a passionate french kiss," I stated, trying to hide that this proclamation and what it was going to entail made so nervous that my knees became weak.

My mother stepped over to me and took my face in her hands. She looked into my eyes, and I could see a struggle going on in her mind. Though what exactly she was contemplating, I could only guess. Finally, she steeled her resolve and leaned forward and kissed me. Not as a mother kisses a son, but as a practiced lover, kisses their soul mate. She was much more skilled than Carla, and I started to lose myself in her soft lips before Trista ended our embrace.

Trista looked down at my cock. Her face was visibly disappointed at the realization that I had yet to stiffen. "Was that all?"

"No," I panted in response. "There was one more thing. Carla kissed down my chest, stopping at the base of my cock."

Without hesitation, my mother started to plant light sensual kisses down my body. She began at the base of the neck and descended slowly and methodically down my abdomen. The headiness of the situation caused me to moan with a longing desire that no boy had felt in over a century. By the time Trista stopped, her lips were brushing against the foundation of my manhood. Every fiber of my being was crying out for her to continue.

Eventually, I noticed that even though she had ceased her ministrations, my mother was still kneeling in front of me. I looked down to see what was going on, and to my surprise, I was sporting a semi-erection. My mother stared at, intently her lips slightly apart. Awe was clearly etched on her face. Oh, my God! Is she going to take me into her mouth?