Mommy's New Daddy

By Contingency

Submitted: November 26, 2021

Updated: November 26, 2021

Cole was happy for his mother when she finally got a new boyfriend - until he found out her new
boyfriend was his high school bully.

This is a somewhat dark commissioned bully NTR story. It contains cuckolding, BBC, and
humiliation.

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

http://www.hentai-foundry.com/stories/user/Contingency/54215/Mommys-New-Daddy

Chapter 1 - Mommy's New Daddy 2

 1 - Mommy's New Daddy

1.

Cole had never thought he would be happy to be back home.

When he had left for college, finally – after that long, interminable, excruciating blur of humiliation and
his self-esteem being pummeled into the ground that was high school had ground to its anti-climactic,
quietly miserable end – some part of him had sworn he would never, in fact, come back here.
Knowing full well how irrational it was, he let himself believe it, at the time, anyway.

He had to. It was the only way to muster something resembling courage, a thing that had long since
been beaten out of him, and move on with his life.

Leaving this house, the house in which he had been raised since the day he was born – leaving its
unremarkable two-story quintessentially suburban architecture, leaving the fenced-in yard with its tire
swing and its long-forgotten sandbox and its pool, leaving the milquetoast little slice of American
suburbia that was its neighborhood – leaving it all behind had been one of the happiest days of his
life. Happier, even, than the memory of the first time his childhood crush had kissed him on the cheek
and agreed to date him.

That memory, though, he tried very hard not to think about, because of what it had led to, later.

But walking down the front steps of his home, the day he drove to college? The day he embarked on
the rest of his life, a life that suddenly, after far too long, seemed brimming with possibilities, days full
of new and interesting things instead of days that, for far too long, had been filled with only him? Only
him and his awful smirk and his unfairly tall, athletic body already making him feel like he had lost
before his fists started swinging – ?

That day, he thought about all the time. Because after that day, the memories of everything that
preceded it, of him, finally started to be replaced by new ones. Finally started to fade.
So imagine Cole’s surprise when, as he climbed those same front steps now, he caught himself
humming under his breath, caught himself smiling.

Cole’s steps slowed, stopped. He stood there, at the top of the steps, and allowed himself a moment
to shake his head, smile turning rueful.

If someone had told him six months before that he would be happy to return here, he would have
laughed them out of the room. Not a happy laugh, either. The kind of laugh he had unleashed more
than once, alone in his childhood bedroom, when he was nursing a black eye or a bloodied nose or
even simply a wounded spirit, a harsh, joyless laugh that was directed only at one target – himself,
because surely, when one really thought about it, it was funny, funny how he could be such a pussy,
such a pushover, such a –

And yet here he was. Home again. And, as he stood there, taking it all in, his wiry, five-foot-eight
body bowing briefly as he hitched up his shoulder bag, adjusted his glasses, brushed a stray lock of
dirty-blonde hair away from his brow, he had to admit: he had been wrong back then.

He was home, and he was happy.

In his defense, of course, he would never have predicted that this would be why he was back.

“Oh honey, you have to come over and meet him! Pleeease?

I think I’ve finally…

found my Man~”

2.
Just as Cole had never thought he would be happy to return home, when finally he had escaped it
and all the baggage of his unhappy, bullied teenage years, he had never – never – thought he would
hear his mother talk like that.

No. It wasn’t even fair to put the two things on the same level.

Where he would have had to admit, even at his unhappiest, right after high school, that there was
some chance something might make him happy to return home, the concept of his mother having a
boyfriend was an impossibility.

And that was a funny thing. Because Cole’s mother wasn’t like most mothers.

Cole’s mother was hot.

It was a fact he had not been allowed to forget, even long before he was old enough to realize it, in
the uncomfortable way of all sons with hot moms. Some of his earliest childhood memories were
those of his pudgy young cheeks flushing a violent, searing red as the louder, brasher boys on the
playground would make crass remarks about his mommy, remarks that they themselves probably did
not understand, merely echoing things they had heard from their own fathers or older brothers or
even the male teachers, remarks that Cole could only whine at and implore them to stop, because
even then he was far too scared to do anything more than that.

There was no shortage of comments for the other boys to repeat. No matter where Cole and his
mother went, there was rarely an instance where some local man wasn’t either coming up to her and
trying to chat her up, or, even more common, eyeing her in ways that made young Cole
uncomfortable, calling out things to her that turned Cole’s discomfort into that flushing of his cheeks,
the whole world seeming to be swallowed up into the rushing of his blood in his quickened heartbeat
as he tried to drown it all out.

Cole’s mother, though?

Cole’s mother wasn’t different from the other moms only in her beauty –

Cole’s mother was a lady.

Perhaps, in a way, that was why she received so much attention from the local men and boys. Their
area, after all, was clean and reputable, but it was not the kind of place where there were many
women like his mother Tonya. Soft-spoken, conservative, and openly religious, her glistening silver
cross necklace always nestled above the generous cleavage that drove all the men crazy.

No matter how conservative she was, she couldn’t hide her body. Cole’s mother didn’t even have
to try to show off her body, like most other women did. Her body was something so completely,
utterly female, fertility and sensuality radiating from every explosive curve, that when Cole had been
old enough to see it, really see it, he hadn’t even been able to look at her without blushing for
months, trying desperately not to see her the way the other boys did – trying not to see the way her
huge, maternal chest would hang tantalizingly, jiggling and wobbling under its soft, inviting weight,
every time she leaned over the table to serve his dinner; trying not to see the way her even bigger,
rounder spectacle of a mature ass would pop out back toward him while she moved around the living
room vacuuming the floor, every small step making the shelf-like, bubbly swell of it bounce and
wobble in the tight denim jeans she loved to wear around the house; tried, even, not to think about
how soft and wet her lips were when she would lean in to kiss his forehead before he left for the
schoolbus, his eyes averting from the shapely, plump pinkness of her mouth, from the perfect
symmetry of her almond-shaped, heavily lidded blue eyes under sweeping natural blonde bangs.

His mother was, in every possible way, exactly the kind of woman who should have had a man. Who
could have had a man, any man, any time she wanted, who had every man in her vicinity wrapped
around her fingers no matter where they went, simply from the way her wide, curvy hips swayed as
she walked, from the way her plump chest and even plumper rear would jiggle with her steps, the
way her smile would make her whole gorgeous, dignified motherly face brighten with soft feminine
charm.

But Cole’s mother, for the entire time he had been alive, had never returned interest in any of the
countless men who were so enamored with her.

Cole would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been confused by his mother’s perpetual single-
ness throughout his adolescence. He wasn’t complaining, mind – he’d never met his father, a man
he’d only seen in the few pictures his mother kept, a bald man significantly her senior who even Cole
found so forgettable in appearance that he found himself, somehow, forgetting how the man looked
even while looking right at one of his photos; his mother had divorced him while he was still a baby,
and didn’t really talk about him.

Cole had never needed him, never needed a father, and he sure as hell didn’t think him or his
mother needed any of the handful of men who his mother had allowed to take her out on a date or
two back then. Cole barely remembered any of them, but one thing he did remember was how lost all
of them had seemed, from the moment they showed up on their home’s doorstep, holding flowers, or
chocolates, or, in the case of the more desperate among them, both, and more. How even before
Tonya had finished opening the door, it was as if they shrank before her, intimidated by her beauty
and her perfect body and the dignified way she held herself. As if they knew they weren’t good
enough.

His mother would let them buy her dinner. Let them walk her back to the house. And as a young Cole
would watch from between the stair railing upstairs, she would turn, give them a polite but cold smile
as they stood there expectantly, and she would close the door in their faces.

Once, Cole had asked her about it. It was after dinner, one night, while Cole was just starting high
school – not long before he would be too deflated, too sullen, every day after school to muster such
curiosity, too busy as he would be, dreading the next day. The next time he would bump into him.

But he wasn’t there to make Cole’s life a living hell yet, and so, as he picked at the crumbs still
remaining on his dinner plate, with his mother standing, back to him, at the kitchen sink, scrubbing
away at dishes, he had asked – asked why, despite the occasional dates, despite all the interest, she
was still single.

The sound of her sponge against the glass had slowed. She had looked up, at the window over the
kitchen sink, where orange-hued evening light exposed the dust particles floating on the air.

Cole had worried for a second he had asked something wrong, from how long the silence dragged
on. Then, finally, in a soft, thoughtful voice, his mother had answered, sounding like she was coming
up with the answer as she said it.

“I don’t really know, sweetie,” she had said. She seemed to search for words, head shaking a little,
her flowing blonde hair shifting, and then she had let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe
I’m just… old-fashioned. I’m not a girl anymore, like I used to be – like I used to be when I met your
father, in fact. I’m a woman.” Her attention went back down to the sink. She scrubbed absent-
mindedly at a plate. “I don’t need a… stammering little boy. I already have one of those.”

Cole’s mouth had gone slack, hearing that. He’d felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, in a
way he wasn’t accustomed to feeling at home. He remembered feeling hurt, in a way he had almost
thought he was immune to, after so long with the schoolyard bullies.

Bullies he would learn, all too soon, were nothing compared to what would come next. Just as he
would learn the wannabes hadn’t toughened him up nearly as much as he liked to think.

His mother’s shoulders had tensed as she seemed to realize what she’d let slip. She had looked
over her shoulder at her blushing, hurt son, and, framed in the golden evening light, her blonde locks
looking practically translucent against the sun, she had smiled at him with such genuine love and
apology that Cole had felt his heart already lifting.

“I’m just teasing you, Cole. You know that, don’t you?”

He had not, in fact, known that. Tonya hadn’t sounded like she was ‘teasing’ when she said it.
She’d sounded wistful, thoughtful… maybe a little…

Disappointed.

But, with her looking back over her shoulder at him, directing such motherly warmth at him, a loving
smile the likes of which he had never seen her direct at a single other living soul in his entire life – a
smile just for him – he decided that, maybe, he had been wrong. Maybe she had sounded like she
was teasing.

“Yeah, I know, mom.”

“Good. That’s good, sweetie.” Tonya had paused, opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it –
closed it again. Like she was considering saying something, and thought better of it. She looked at
Cole again, the smile on her face turning a little sad. “You… can be a little... sensitive sometimes,
sweetie. It’s fine, I love that about you, but...”
She stared at him silently for a moment. Cole waited patiently, starting to blush again, simply
because he wasn’t used to her looking at him so intensely. She seemed almost nervous herself, like
she was working up her courage to say something, and that made him nervous.

Then, as unexpectedly as it had come, the moment had passed. Cole’s mother averted her eyes, still
looking almost sad, and then she had turned around, back toward the sink.

“Never mind. Finish your dinner. You have homework to do.”

She had turned the faucet, increasing the water flowing from the sink, and resumed scrubbing. Cole
distantly remembered wondering why she was scrubbing so hard. But then he had noticed the way it
made her big ass, hugged so tightly by her blue jeans, wobble around, his cheeks flushing again as
his fledgling teen hormones took over and he could only watch, helplessly enamored, as his
mother’s fat, bubbly mature ass jiggled and bounced, subconsciously hearing his classmates’
remarks about her in a way that made him blush harder and feel ashamed but which could not stop
him from staring.

It was the only time Cole asked about his mother’s love life. He knew he had only gotten part of an
answer before his mother was distracted by trying to soothe him, but later, when he had time to think
about it, he would use that evening in the kitchen to draw his own conclusions.

His mother was old-fashioned, she’d said. It fit with her religiousness, her calm, dignified demeanor.
Clearly, then, she simply hadn’t found an old-fashioned man. No doubt she meant she wanted a
gentleman: a polite, courteous man who would open doors for her, respect her, a man as religious
and conservative as she was.

It was a nice thought. For a while, it even made the crude remarks of Cole’s classmates more
bearable. No matter what they said about Tonya to try to embarrass him, he would be able to smile to
himself, knowing none of them would ever be the type to get the attention of a gorgeous, classy
woman like his mother.

Dyer came into Cole’s life not long after that, and Cole would forget all about such things.
3.

Every awful day of Cole’s teen years, of the living hell that was his time in high school, was because
of Dyer.

From the very first time Cole had bumped into the much larger, muscular boy in the school corridors –
had stumbled back, mumbling an apology, only to gawk, a split second too long, at the new black boy
who had moved into their overwhelmingly white suburb, unused to seeing such a tall, fit, dark-skinned
teenager around there – Dyer had become the worst thing that ever happened to him. Even now, in
college, months after leaving, at a point in his life where, during his waking hours, he blissfully
thought of those awful days less and less, every nightmare he had was still about him. About the
bruises, the humiliations, the inescapable, helpless feeling of defeat that had come to fill Cole every
time Dyer came stomping and swaggering into his life to fuck him up and crush his spirit, seemingly
for no reason other than because he could.

Just as how he, the worst thing that had ever happened to Cole, had ruined the best thing that had
ever happened to him – the kiss on the cheek, the shy, giggling agreement to go on a date with him,
from the one girl he’d grown up with who seemed to see him as something other than a loser –

Because he could.

But –

But.

There was one thing Cole could tell himself, in the quiet and the dark of the dead of night, when he
would wake up in a cold sweat in his college dorm, Dyer’s smirking face still emblazoned on the back
of his eyelids.
His mother.

He –

That fucking asshole, that monster, that bully –

Had never gotten to his mother.

It had been a fear of his, the last couple years of high school, a dull, unpleasant, churning sensation
in his gut that refused to go away. After a lifetime of every boy in his classes, every man in town,
lusting after his mother, he had tossed and turned many nights dreading when Dyer might start doing
the same, because unlike all the others, all talk, all harmless, something deep down, some voice he
wanted to ignore but couldn’t, feared Dyer might be different.

And then –

After what he had done to her – the one girl he’d ever had a crush on –

The dull anxiety had become full-blown panic. Not a day had gone by, toward the end of Cole’s days
in high school, where he hadn’t felt his heartrate skyrocket as he would approach his front door after
school, where his mind, no matter how hard he tried to stop it, hadn’t gone careening like an out-of-
control carriage down the slopes of hell, filling his imagination with awful image after awful image of
what he might walk in on, certain down to the very last fiber of his being that sooner or later he would
open that door and see not just his mother but him, too –

It never happened.

The fear never left him, right up until the day he had received his high school diploma in the mail (he
had, of course, chosen not to attend graduation, who knew what Dyer might have done to spoil that
day; not that he had told his mother as much, he had never done a better job of feigning sickness in
his life, his mother had even made him chicken soup while he lay in bed) – but it never happened.
Cole did not know to what he owed that one blissful stroke of good fortune in what had otherwise
been the most miserable time of his life, whether it was how he had carefully hidden as many black
eyes and bruises as possible, deflected as many attempts from teachers as possible to involve his
mother, anything to keep his mother from crossing paths with Dyer, or whether it was just sheer,
dumb luck.

He figured he would never know.

All he did know was that he was so grateful that, the first night he had settled into his college dorm
and reflected on what might have been but never was, he had been overcome with such a wave of
relief that he nearly broke down on his bed, instead simply laughing to himself, hands over his eyes,
delirious with relief over that and everything else.

Over.

It was over.

4.

Was it any wonder, then, that Cole was so happy as he stood in front of his childhood home’s front
door, six months later?

Because now, not only was all of that in the distant past – things were about to get better.

No son is particularly thrilled to find out their single mother is bringing a new man into their life. Cole
had to admit that he’d felt just a hint of annoyance when his mother told him she’d finally found a
man. For one thing, it had simply been so unexpected. He’d felt a bit like she gave him whiplash,
calling him up out of the blue one day, sounding so giddy and happy that he’d barely recognized his
normally dignified, restrained mother’s voice.

But most sons could never understand what Cole had gone through. How, even now, all these
months later, sometimes the insidious voice in his head would wonder: was it ever, really, over?

Especially with his mother all alone, back home, no one to try to keep her from him.

He’d expected, as with so many anxieties and fears over his life, he would simply have to live with it.

Not this time.

Cole’s fortunes really were turning around. Never in his life had such good news come to him at such
a perfect time. And so it was that the initial confusion and irritation at such a major life change being
dropped on him out of nowhere had quickly faded, Cole’s own voice over the phone with his mother
also becoming cheerier as it sank in: this was good. His mother wouldn’t be alone anymore. Dyer
was scary, sure – by far the biggest, strongest, meanest asshole back in their high school – but he
wasn’t a big fish in that small pond, anymore. They were adults now.

And no matter who it was that his mother had fallen in love with, even Dyer would have to think twice
before trying anything with a man around to protect her.

Besides… as Cole finally shook himself from his reverie and approached the door, his rueful smile
widened, realizing he hadn’t given this particular part of it all much thought: what kind of son was he,
not to be happy that his mother had sounded so happy as she told him? So in love?

Enough about him.

It was time to share in his mother’s good news and happiness. Today was about her, not him. No
matter how much it relieved him, too.
Cole raised his hand to knock on the door.

He could only blink as it swung enthusiastically open before his fist could even connect with the white-
painted wood.

And then he could only stare, his eyes going wide, jaw dropping, fist frozen in the air, because the
woman who answered the door of his home had his mother’s face – those soft, gentle, beautiful pale
features with her smoky eyes and plush lips – but it surely could not really be his mother.

This was –

– his mother?

The more he gawked, the less he could believe what he was seeing.

“Theeere he is~! Oh I am so glad you came, Cole!”

His mother delightedly clasped her hands together. It made the mountain of soft, milky-smooth
cleavage spilling out of her tight, midriff-baring pink crop top wobble alarmingly, what looked like
more than half of her generous breast meat already squeezed out of the top of it seeming to jiggle its
way even more free from the simple motion. Cole’s shocked gaze locked first there, and then on her
bare tummy, and it occurred to him, distantly, he had never seen her stomach in his entire life; just
like that obscene cleavage, she had always covered it up, whatever little good that did to hide her
explosively curvy figure. Somehow her belly was almost as lewd as the jiggling breasts above it (holy
shit mom are those J-cups, I’ve never even thought about that but they HAVE to be, they’ve never
looked so BIG), the pale white flesh impossibly smooth, belly button peeking out from just a hint of
chubbiness –

– Could those even qualify as shorts – ?

Cole could not believe his mother even owned anything as scandalous as the white short-shorts that
looked all but like they might snap at any moment from the titanic effort of staying wrapped around
his mother’s wide, fertile hips. The shorts had long since lost any kind of attempt to hold back more
than a fraction of her huge, plump ass – even from the front, Cole could see easily two-thirds of her
doughy white asscheeks bared to the open air, still mid-jiggle from her approach to the door, the
bubbly flesh bouncing and rippling as pronouncedly as her thick, curvy bare thighs. No amount of
conservative clothing had ever been able to hide her body, but seeing her legs naked like this drove
home just how long and curvaceous the smooth limbs were, trailing down to small dainty feet
encapsulated in scandalous pink platform heels that were every bit as unbelievable to see on his
mother as all the rest of the outfit, boosting her height an easy four inches at least.

But somehow – even with all of that for his overwhelmed mind to struggle to process – what Cole’s
shocked eyes lingered on the longest was what was on that faintly jiggling titflesh spilling out of his
mother’s crop top.

At first he had dismissed it as some blemish on her skin, one he had never had a chance to see,
since his mother – his mother, so stately and dignified and old-fashioned – had never shown that part
of her skin to him, to almost anyone. But no. His eyes had been drawn back to it, because on some
subconscious level, he recognized that no blemish was that dark; what was peeking out of her
plunging top was a perfect, jet-black.

It was only a glimpse of it, most of it covered by the gaudy, boldly feminine pink of her shirt (so unlike
her), but it looked almost like the bottom of a heart shape, curving to an upward point.

And it looked, in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint, familiar. Like he knew what it was, even without
seeing the whole thing.

Cole’s eyes, finally, with great effort, dragged themselves away from that oddly familiar thing on his
mother’s soft, wobbling cleavage (a tattoo?! Mom you’re getting tattoos now what the fuck) and he
managed to look to her glowing, smiling face. He had never seen her smiling so widely, her cheeks
dimpled, well-maintained white teeth bared cheerfully, even more jarring than the big, swooping hoop
earrings swaying to either side of her face, the gold of them matching the gold of her blonde hair.

“Muh…

Mom?” he croaked, his voice sounding to him like it came from very far away.
He tried, very hard, not to acknowledge his own awareness that, down below, the unexpectedly bare,
raunchy display of his mother’s ripe, mature body had caused blood to rush to his groin.

For once, he was grateful that he wasn’t big enough Down There for it to show in his pants.

His mother beamed at him and gave a squeal of girlish delight that, like everything Cole was seeing,
was completely unlike anything he had ever seen from her. She waved her hands happily to either
side of her, popping her wide curved hips from side to side in a way that dragged her son’s gaze
right back down to her body with the irresistible force of gravity itself, his breaths loud in his own ears
as he watched her huge breasts bounce loosely in her shirt and her fat ass jiggling around so
openly.

“Yessss, baby! What do you think~? Go on, dish! Does your mommy look hot or what~?”

She did a little spin around, her platform heels clacking on the floor. Cole’s heartbeat pounded in his
wiry, skinny frame so hard that he thought it might burst right out of his chest as the 360 degree
display gave him a brief, outrageous glimpse of just how exposed his mother’s protruding shelf-like
white ass was in those tiny shorts, the heavy, doughy-smooth flesh rippling with every clack of her
heels, so bubbly that the mere motions made the flesh clap against itself.

Cole felt the little thing blissfully hidden in his pants throbbing desperately, against his will, as he
realized he could literally hear the clapping of his mother’s ass, so fat that every clap of cheek
against cheek made a faint fleshy noise.

“Oh, Cole, honey,” his mother breathed, sounding almost enchanted as she turned back to face him
fully, hands clasping over her chest. Cole observed that her nails were longer than he remembered,
looking freshly glossed, and that observation, in turn, brought his dazed eyes right back to the
glimpse of jet-black tattoo on her cleavage, peeking out of her shirt. “You can see it already, can’t
you? I… I feel like a whole new woman~ And it’s all thanks to him, honey! Oh I just had to show
you~!”

Even her cadence was different than anything Cole had ever heard from her, like nothing he ever
thought he would hear from her. His mother’s voice had always been as beautiful as the rest of her,
mature and just a little smoky, but every word that came from her now was accompanied with a ditzy,
feminine lilt that sounded more like something he had heard from the girls in school he had always
hated, the kind of girl that would pass by in the hallway while Dyer, fucking Dyer had his way with his
favorite schooltime punching bag and they would simply laugh and point, making fun of him for being
such a loser –

Hearing that same kind of cadence from his mom made Cole snap out of it, just enough. He took a
quiet, slightly shudder inhale, dragged his gaze from the marking on his mother’s cleavage again,
and looked first at his mother’s glowing face, and then past her, expecting to see exactly who it was
she was gushing about.

His mother blinked her long lashes, looked over her shoulder as well, and then seemed to
understand why he was looking. She waved a daintily held hand, shaking her head, the motion
making her big hoop earrings sway and catch the sunlight – and her obscene display of pale, softy
white squeezed-together motherly breasts wobble in her shirt.

“Oh, he’s not home right now, Cole honey! But don’t you worry, I’m going to tell him you’re here
and I’m sure he’ll come right over. He’s been looking forward to this, too, you know~! He was so
happy when I told him I convinced you to come home~”

Cole nodded slowly. A curious relief made him exhale; he felt his posture relaxing. He hadn’t realized
how nervous he was about meeting this new man in his mother’s life, since he was so caught up in
the rest of his reflections ever since he got on the bus for this visit, but it was a bigger load off his
shoulders than he would have guessed, hearing that this stranger wasn’t dreading meeting his
girlfriend’s adult son. Not every man was thrilled to step into any kind of fatherly role, after all.

Fatherly role…

Cole’s heart, for just a second, ached.

He’d never had a father figure. He’d never thought he missed it, either.

But… maybe… he had.

That train of thought allowed him, to his further relief, to direct his attention to something other than
how different (slutty, holy shit mom looks like such a slut) his mother looked right now. He blushed a
little as his mind caught up to what was happening and it hit him that he hadn’t even given his
mother a hug yet. Smiling apologetically, Cole moved in for a hug. “It’s – it’s fine, mom, really. Hey,
listen, it’s really nice to see y – ”

“Oh, it’s nice to see you too, sweetie,” his mother cooed, and Cole’s heart hitched in surprise as,
instead of reciprocating the hug, his mother’s hand shot out with unexpected speed, clasping his
shoulder, stopping him mid-approach, and instead of a hug, she gave him a dainty, polite pat on his
skinny shoulder.

The beam on her face shifted into a motherly concern so pronounced that some erratic, hushed part
of Cole’s mind wondered, unbidden, if it was genuine.

“Cole, honey, you are still so frail! Are you eating enough?” She let out a little sigh, giving Cole a
sympathetic look. “Listen to me! I guess I should know well enough by now, huh? No amount of
home cooking ever did help make you any less scrawny. Awww, my sweet, delicate little boy~”

Any clarity Cole had received from the encouraging thought of his mother’s boyfriend being
reciprocal to this meeting was already a distant memory. Cole felt his cheeks heating up in the kind of
embarrassment he hadn’t felt in a long time, hearing his mother talk about him like that –

– and seeing her pout at him like that, pushing the facsimile of motherly sympathy on her soft, mature
face over the edge to the point Cole was briefly, utterly convinced that she was taunting him.

– Was that –

– a smile, tugging at the corner of her puckered, painted pink lips, through her pout?

She didn’t give him time to look any closer. Her warm, petite hand left his tensed shoulder, and just
like that his mother turned around, starting to walk back inside the house.
“Well, what are you waiting for, silly? Come in! You’re home!”

5.

This, though…

Was it really his home?

Just like the woman sauntering her way deeper into the house in front of Cole, as he closed the front
door behind him and lowered his shoulder bag to the floor and looked slowly around, what he was
seeing was technically, without a doubt, what he remembered – and yet, in more little ways than he
could process, so different as to render it unrecognizable.

His mom had always maintained such a clean, welcoming home.

What he was seeing now was not that.

It was a mess.

The living room where he had spent so many countless afternoons, after school, doing homework,
watching TV (nursing the black eyes that Dyer had given him – holding ice packs to bloody noses –
the homework he was slaving away at shifting, more and more, away from being his own work and
instead Dyer’s, until his grades were cratering for a while because he only had time to do Dyer’s
homework and no time for his own) was littered with so much stuff that Cole could barely keep track
of it all. The couch that was the living room’s centerpiece was laden with discarded clothes, a mix of
distinctly feminine clothing that was clearly his mother’s and – Cole’s first sign that this Man his
mother was so in love with, who had brought such a change over her, was not a figment of her
imagination – distinctly male clothing, ranging from jeans to shirts, almost all of them of the
sleeveless variety that either implied this man had muscles to show off, or was some kind of trailer
trash; Cole fervently hoped it was the former. The clothes trailed from the back of the couch, to its
shifted and uneven cushioning, down to several articles of it on the floor. Cole’s cheeks warmed
once again as he registered, in a blur, what looked like a man’s underwear, and –

Cole’s face turned a solid red as his eyes passed over frilly white lingerie, then pretty pink heels not
so different from the ones his mother was wearing now, covered partially by striking red panties so
small they surely couldn’t even cover the wide curvy hips currently jiggling and swaying toward the
kitchen –

Cole averted his eyes, quickly, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen his mother’s panties discarded so
casually on the floor. He instead tried to process the mess on the coffee table in front of the couch,
where his teenage self had sat to do so much homework back in the day, a mess of snacks and
empty beer cans, empty wine glasses – a mess, certainly, but at least it wasn’t as bad as –

He could only quickly look away again, cheeks flushing anew, as he registered what he tried to tell
himself surely could not have been discarded and unused condoms strewn across the table

(big ones, too, jesus christ I didn’t even know they made condoms that big)

The air felt stuffy, confined, not at all like the fragrances Cole’s mother had filled the house with
throughout his adolescence, as Cole instead tried to focus his attention on what was in front of him,
his breaths nervous and uneven, a stranger in a home that was more and more unrecognizable by
the second.

Staring ahead was no choice at all, though. Because staring ahead, all he could see was the back
profile of this woman who was his mother and yet seemed like a completely different woman, the
small of her back bared by her crop top swelling so explosively and sensually to her voluptuous hips
and that ass, holy shit the glimpse of it he’d had in the doorway had already been on a completely
different level from any concept of his mother’s ass he’d had back in the day but this, this sustained
look at it, was enough to make his poor frazzled mind go blank – this was his mother, he shouldn’t
stare like this, but he could not get over the thought beating through his head like a drumbeat, his
mother, his mother, his mother, he’d grown up in this house with her and all these years he’d never
fully grasped just who he was living with; the ass swaying and bouncing and clapping so energetically
before him, popping and jiggling with every clack of her platform heels, like she was showing it off,
was so completely smooth and perfect and bubbly-fat that it put every ass that Cole had ever lusted
to on the internet to shame, and this one wasn’t on a screen, an unreal concept for him to dream
about as he tugged the little thing between his legs that he was so disappointed by to an equally
disappointing finish, this one was real, it was right there in front of him, and it was his mother’s –
That insidious voice in his head whispered, unbidden, audible even through his tumultuous, conflicted
thoughts:

Was this just how his mother walked, now? This confident, strutting stride that brought her wide hips
side to side, made her thick pale thighs and practically bare, pillowy asscheeks clap and bounce?

Or was she, yet again –

taunting him?

She had to have noticed how thunderstruck he was by how she looked – and here she was, all but
showing off the view.

Cole closed his eyes. Tried to breathe. Willed his beating heart to calm.

He was being absurd.

Breathe…

It’s Mom, Cole. Just Mom.

She wouldn’t do that. She’s just… comfortable around me, that’s all.

It’s not her fault you’re such a sick fuck…!

Get your head out of the gutter…

He tried.

6.

He failed.

They were in the kitchen now. Cole almost didn’t know how he had ended up here, in the same chair
at the kitchen table where he had sat, every single night, for all those years, eating his dinner;
everything was happening so fast, and yet he felt as if he’d been back here for hours already, even
though surely it had only been minutes.

Or –

Sitting there, for a moment, he was transported back through not minutes, not hours, but years. Back
to a gold-tinted late afternoon, picking at the dinner on his plate in this very seat, watching his mother
pause scrubbing the dishes at the sink just long enough to look over her shoulder at him, apology on
her face as it was framed in the light from the window, telling him she was just teasing, that he could
be a little sensitive sometimes, never mind, he had to finish his food, go do his homework –

“ – oooh, you are going to love him, Cole! You’ll see, just like I did~! This is going to be so good for
you.”

Cole blinked. Shook his head, cleared the memory that had rushed back, so vividly.

No, this wasn’t then – this was now –

It was impossible to shake the memory fully, though. Because here he sat, once again, and there his
mother stood, once again, at the same place as she had, at the sink. Except this time, she was facing
him fully, one dainty, long-nailed hand on the counter, the other holding a glass of water that swished
and churned as the hand gestured enthusiastically, his mother’s beaming smile directed toward Cole
and yet not quite at him; she seemed to be staring somewhere over his head, dreamily, staring into
nothingness with an expression that reminded Cole of something else altogether.

Of the way those girls from school, the ones who talked awfully similarly to how his mother was
talking now, would stare up… at him, when it was Their Turn. When they were the ones hanging off
his athletic, powerful black arm for a time. Until he tired of them, and replaced them with another.

“Huh?” Cole muttered, blinking, shaking his head blearily. Realizing he could barely even hear
himself, his distracted voice was so soft, he tried to raise it, wincing at how his already reedy voice
cracked, reminding him even more vividly of those awful high school days that were, more and more,
against his will rushing back, just like he’d feared they would whenever he thought of returning
home. “Wuh…? Good for me? What… what do you mean, mom?”

His mother kept staring over his head for a second. Then she seemed to register he had said
something, her well-manicured dark brown eyebrows lifting, long lashes blinking until they were a
little clearer, her smile turning polite. “Hmmmm? What was that, Cole? Did you say something?” She
stared at him for a moment, a strange intensity growing in her blue eyes that made Cole, for some
reason, feel anxious, averting his own eyes to the table, cheeks reddening.

“Mm...” Cole heard, rather than saw, his mother rubbing her lips together – and looked up just in time
to catch the shadow of a sly smile on those same lips as she looked at him thoughtfully.

“Yes… it really is so good you came, sweetie. Daddy really wanted you to see… how happy he
makes me.”

Cole’s breath caught in his throat. His cheeks heated up, brow needling together in mounting
concern, as he tried to absorb what his mother had just said.

“Mom… did you just… what did you just… call him?”

His mother didn’t answer. She kept staring at him with that odd, quiet intensity, her blue eyes heavily
lidded.
They met his. Her smile, with that unfamiliar, sly angle to it, curled. Cole’s pulse quickened.

Out of all the things that were so different about her now, that look on her face – a face he
remembered only ever looking at him with motherly affection or concern – a face which now looked at
him almost… disdainfully, yes, that was the only word for it, no matter how much he wanted to deny
it, like she was looking at something she had stepped in on the side of the road – shook him the
most.

There was a faint buzzing sound, the familiar vibration of a phone that needed its owner’s attention.
Cole started, tried to control his breath, patting his pocket to see if it was his own phone, but it was
his mother whose face suddenly, drastically brightened, like a storm cloud had lifted, and her
beaming smile was the sun breaking through, appearing almost childishly excited.

“Ohmygawd~! That must be Daddy!” There it was again, that word, and hearing it again dashed any
quiet, desperate hope Cole had clung to that he had imagined it the first time. His mother fished her
phone out of a pocket in her skimpy shorts that seemed to defy logic just by existing on shorts so
small, and as the phone vibrated in her slender, feminine fingers she clacked her way across the
kitchen floor, Cole trying and failing not to stare at her energetically bouncing cleavage and jutting, fat
assmeat. She paused when she was standing right next to Cole’s chair, looking down at him; Cole,
instinctively, out of an entire childhood of conditioning, winced slightly, expecting her to lean down
and kiss the top of his head, as she had done so many times standing right there.

His brow furrowed as, instead, she didn’t do anything. Didn’t even touch him at all. Just gave him a
distracted smile, her gaze already on her phone’s screen.

“I have to take this. You know, let him know you’re here, and stuff! I’m sure he’ll come right over~”
Her heels clacked, stopped as she started to move away and paused again. “Uhmmm… make
yourself at home, or whatever! You know where everything is.”

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack…

Every clack of those ridiculous pink platform heels took her further away, leaving Cole to sit and
wonder where the hell his mother had gone – who this new woman was, who seemed happier to
receive a text from some man she’d just met than she was to see her own son.
7.

It was a beautiful afternoon, at least.

Cole admired the bright blue sky for a moment longer, then turned his attention down, to the clear,
shimmering water of his childhood home’s backyard pool. The intricate light patterns cast down onto
the pool floor, shifting and dancing subtly with every slight motion of the water, were soothing.

Just like they’d been, back then. After the best thing that had ever happened to him had been turned
into the worst thing that ever happened to him, thanks to that fucking asshole, and Cole, years
younger and even more troubled than he was now, had come out to sit by the pool and think, as he
was today.

He had lingered in the kitchen longer than he probably had any reason to; it had taken him a while to
realize his mother wasn’t coming back downstairs anytime soon. He had tried to imagine what could
possibly be taking so long, why it was taking so long for her to simply text to her new boyfriend that
Cole was home – let alone why she felt the need for privacy while she did it.

Cole’s mind had flashed him an unwelcome image of the living room. His mother’s lingerie messily
strewn all over, mingled with some strange man’s underwear and clothing.

The condoms – bigger than any he’d ever seen –

they make them that big?!

Suffice to say, he had needed some air.

He was glad he had come out here. He didn’t even bother keeping track of the time. He’d been out
here for a while, now, but the lighting hadn’t changed all that much, so he knew he hadn’t been
home long.

However long he’d been home, being out here, with the fresh air, the chirping of birds in the
backyard trees, hearing the subtle creak of the tire swing, still there near the pool after all these
years…

It put things into perspective.

Next door, the neighbor’s dog barked, muffled – coming from inside their house, no doubt. Cole
smiled wistfully. How old was that dog now? Sometimes it had squeezed through a gap in the fence
dividing their yard from the neighbors’, and would come running excitedly up to Cole as he sat by the
pool, ready for pets and belly rubs that Cole was always happy – and able – to provide. After all,
despite the privacy of the backyard, despite the fact only his mother, with her view of the backyard
from the kitchen sink, would ever see, Cole hardly ever actually got into the pool. He was too self-
conscious about his scrawny, pale frame. Especially after Dyer had rubbed salt into the literal wounds
he inflicted by loudly and relentlessly mocking, every time, exactly how embarrassing it really was.

The smirk on Dyer’s young, roguishly handsome dark-complected face whenever he would say
those awful things…

The same smirk that had been on his face when, the day Cole went to his childhood crush’s home to
pick her up for what was to be his first ever date, no one had answered the cracked-open front door
of her house – and Cole had made the fateful decision, one he would always regret, to push that door
open, to wander inside, calling her name… only to find, instead, him, kicked back on her living room
couch, his toned black arms sprawled across the cushions to either side, the picture of smug
relaxation as he locked eyes with Cole, let Cole stare from his smug grin, down past his broad, bare
chest and toned stomach that made him feel so helplessly inadequate in comparison –

– right down to her unmistakable, red-haired ponytail, bobbing up and down over Dyer’s lap, the
sweet voice that had agreed to go on a date with Cole letting out faint, muffled whimpers between
loud, sloppy wet slurping noises that Cole could still hear, like he was there, even now, even all these
years later –
A sound always accompanied by the image of her fingers, squelching their way in and out of her
exposed pussy, so soaking wet that it was dribbling messily all over the carpet below –

The dog barked again.

Cole snapped out of it, straightening up from his slouch. His feet, dangling into the cool pool water,
jerked, making water splash, which shook him out of the unwelcome memory even further.

“Fuck,” he breathed shakily. He ran his hand over his face, from forehead down to jaw, exhaling
slowly. “Fuck...”

And there it was.

Why some part of him had intended never to return to this place, once he’d finally, after so many
awful years, escaped.

Everything here – even now, when so much of it was unfamiliar – brought back memories.

So many memories, almost all of them ones he would rather forget.

The memory that hit him now was a very recent one: how, what could only have been an hour ago at
most, he had been climbing his front steps, so cheerful that he was humming.

Cole could only let out a quiet, nervous laugh now. What had he been thinking…?

One thing was for sure. He’d learned his lesson. Next time Mom wanted to get together, she’d have
to come to him, in the city. Visit him on campus.
Cole closed his eyes, leaned back, hands on the warm cement surrounding the pool, and willed
himself to relax.

Just a little longer, Cole.

Put up with this place a little longer. For Mom.

She might be acting weird right now… but she’s still Mom.

And I’m still happy for her.

As if conjured by his thoughts, he heard it:

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack…

Drawing closer, now, not further away, as it had in the kitchen. Mom was coming outside.

The sun warm on his face, his pulse calming, Cole was pleased to feel a smile on his face as he
called out, “Jeez, mom, about time! How long does it take to answer a text, anyw – ”

The words died on his lips when he opened his eyes to direct the smile right at his mother.

He wished he’d kept his eyes closed.

8.
Everything was relative.

Cole had told himself that, only minutes ago, as he settled down by the pool, his mind racing, trying to
come to terms with everything that he’d seen since his mother opened the front door to welcome him
home; tried to make it make sense, tried to rationalize it.

Yes, his mother’s outfit – so small, so tight, so skimpy, the only reason it could have been chosen
being to show off as much of that curvy, slutty mature body as possible, a far cry from how she’d
always tried (and failed, but still) to conceal it in simple, conservative clothing – had been
unexpected. But really – had it been so strange? A lot of women dressed like that nowadays. If
anything, more women dressed like she was today, than she had back in Cole’s childhood.

If anything – hadn’t it been more normal, even if it was unusual for her?

Wasn’t it, maybe, even healthier?

If her new man had helped her become more comfortable with her body, that was good! Surely. As
uncomfortable as it made him to see it on display like that, he told himself, she had a beautiful body.
She should be proud of it.

It made him feel better. He felt ready to see her dressed like that again, in a new light. In the light a
supportive son should.

The problem was –

She wasn’t wearing that outfit anymore.

And what she was wearing now, relative to what she’d been wearing earlier –

Maybe Cole could have rationalized this, like he had before.

If his mind hadn’t shut down completely at the sight of her, this time.

What his mom was wearing now, as she strutted out of the opened sliding door by their kitchen that
led to the backyard, wasn’t an ‘outfit’ at all. It seemed unfair, even, to refer to it as a ‘bathing suit,’
let alone a ‘bikini’ – which he already would have struggled to process, as in all his years of life,
Cole had only ever seen his mother wearing one-piece bathing suits as conservative as all of her
outfits, as scandalous as she ever had presented herself and yet still carefully chosen to cover her
big, plump breasts and as much of her huge matronly rear as possible.

At first glance, now, Cole almost had a heart attack, because he thought she was naked.

But no – it was just that the tiny two-piece bikini she was wearing was flesh-colored, barely
distinguishable from her actual skin; only distinguishable, in fact, because of how milky and smooth
her natural complexion was, making the slightly redder hue of the bikini stand out.

But the frilly bikini concealed so little that it might as well not have been there at all.

Her pink heels had been replaced by open-top heeled sandals, their clacking muffled as she made
her way across the grass toward the pool. Maybe it was just his imagination, but even his mother’s
sauntering stride seemed more provocative and sensual than it had earlier, her hips swaying
exaggeratedly as she casually looked all around, at anything but Cole, blonde locks flowing in the
gentle breeze, hoop earrings glistening, hands held limply and daintily at her sides, every step
making her completely exposed hips and asscheeks jiggle gelatinously, impossibly soft and plush,
her ass so bubbly and globular that he got more than an eyeful even from the front –

– and her breasts –

Cole blushed so hard he thought he would melt, seeing his mother’s breasts this fully for the first
time since he was an infant, something he could not even remember, that no son should ever have to
remember – and yet here he sat, unable to look away, frozen, a shocked stare on his red face, eyes
locked on his mother’s freely bouncing J-cup breastmeat. He hadn’t thought it was possible for her
cleavage to be more obscene than it had been in that pink crop top, but now, with only her pinkish
aerolae barely covered by her tiny bikini top, a glimpse of their rich pink visible to the top and sides of
the fabric, thick nipples subtly tenting it, the sight of them rooted Cole to the spot, not just physically
but mentally. No matter how much he wished he wasn’t, he couldn’t help but notice how perfect they
were, how round, how even the natural, maturing sag of their considerable jello-y soft weight was
tantalizing, the skin noticeably paler than the rest of her, a few freckles scattered across the jiggling
surface.

“Mom,” Cole mumbled, under his breath, not even meaning to say it, the word slurring out of him like
some kind of subconscious reaction to the sight of her huge, doughy breasts swinging and jiggling
heavily, exposed all but for her nipples.

Then his eyes found it, again.

It.

The haze cleared, replaced instead by a building anxiety that spiked into a sharp gasp of realization
as Cole realized what he had seen just a glimpse of, earlier, at the doorway, peeking out of his
mother’s top.

The jet-black tattoo stood out brilliantly starkly on her pale, milky white skin. An inverted heart, what
looked like a stem growing out between the curved bottoms of it –

– a Queen of Spades symbol, the letter Q proudly emblazoned in its center.

Suddenly, despite all the rest of what his mother was all but daring him to stare at, that was all Cole
could see, all he could think about. A thousand jumbled, desperate explanations raced across his
mind, trying so hard to think up some reason, any reason, his mother would have that tattooed
permanently right over the swell of her plump doughy-soft titflesh, any reason other than –

Cole’s heart stopped.

Seeing that on his own mother’s tits was enough, on its own, to make him want to melt into the
ground and disappear in embarrassment, because no matter what half-assed rationalization he came
up with, he knew, in his core, they were all bullshit, that that symbol could only mean one thing, and
the flood of unwelcome, blurry mental images that came along with it made him queasy.

But – far worse –

Their corner of the suburbs was overwhelmingly white.

There had only been one black person, in Cole’s whole adolescence, that he associated with home.

He saw it again, in his head –

Dyer’s smug, arrogant smirk, the whites of his teeth standing out against his handsome black face,
as Cole’s childhood crush’s red ponytail bobbed up and down over his crotch.

As all this turned his already troubled mind into a chaotic jumble, his mother couldn’t have looked
more serene. Her heels clacked louder, now, as they reached the cement surrounding the pool, and
she walked right up to the reclining white chair by the pool. She stopped there. Even though she was
no longer moving, her hanging, fat tits and jutting fat ass continued to ripple and jiggle for a solid few
seconds afterward as her attention finally turned down to Cole, a distant smile on her face that didn’t
reach her blue eyes.

Those, hooded and sly, as they had been in the kitchen, were bright, as they had been whenever she
used to smile at him for real – but the light in them now was different. Colder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Cole! Did I keep you waiting? Poor baby~” Even the gentle cooing had a colder edge
to it than before. She made a show of looking down at herself, knowing full well it would draw Cole’s
attention down to her body again as well, softly running her hands up along her curvy, bared hips and
midriff, adjusting her bikini bottom, and then, making Cole gulp with helpless embarrassment, she
‘checked’ her bikini top, as well, hefting the string in a way that made her pale, milky big breasts
bounce pronouncedly, impossibly smooth flesh rippling and wobbling, the Queen of Spades mark
burning itself into Cole’s eyes as they flitted from watching the jiggle, to staring at the symbol.

The thought that had occurred to him more than once, during late nights on the Internet when he had
been exposed to that marking on other women, crossed his mind before he could stop it –

The symbol seemed like it belonged there, right over a pair of such swelling, supple soft breasts
jiggling around, so heavy and drooping with the weight of all their milk.

Agitated, Cole bit down on his tongue, willing the thought as far back into the depths of his mind as
he could.

He only dragged his eyes away from that jet-black marking on his mother’s cleavage in time to see it
so briefly that he was convinced he imagined it: the sly smile on his mother’s face replaced by an
openly sadistic smile, pretty eyes narrowed, plump, visibly moist lips wide in a smirk of her own as
her tongue traveled over them.

But as soon as he could see that, her face was different, back to its polite smile and distant eyes.
There was a trace of her old, motherly gentleness there. Just a trace, but enough to convince Cole
further that he’d imagined that look on her face, no doubt a troubled aftereffect of the shock of seeing
the Queen of Spades on his own mother’s breast.

“Silly me, I lost track of time,” she said, voice dripping with regret that didn’t suit her ditzy feminine
cadence very well. She lowered herself onto the poolside chair. Cole gulped again, unable to look
away from how the fat, soft padding of her smooth white ass and thighs squished appetizingly against
the chair’s surface. He briefly, shamefully, wondered how warm that soft padded flesh must feel, to
the touch…

It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered it. The natural curiosity of a virgin, he always reassured
himself.

He’d never thought he would wonder it while ogling his own mother.
“It’s just… Daddy has a way of… making me forget myself,” she said conversationally, airily, and it
occurred to Cole that she was talking to him about her boyfriend not in the way a mother normally
would with her son, but in the confiding way girls talk amongst themselves about men, at least from
what Cole had occasionally overheard from other women. She leaned to the side on the chair, half-
reclining, her long, curvy smooth legs spreading out along the chair while she held up her torso with
one hand on the cushion. Her practically naked, heaving breasts shifted to the side, making them
sandwich appetizingly together. The flesh was so soft and perfectly smooth that the separation of her
cleavage all but seemed to disappear.

Her free hand ran breezily through her luscious blonde hair, the motion in turn making her hanging,
squished-together breasts wobble and shift against each other even more.

Cole couldn’t help noticing that, no matter how much they shifted, the jet black Queen of Spades
seemed never to become less prominent. Like it was daring him, and any other male, to look at it, to
see that no matter how appetizing and perfect his mother’s huge, natural tits were, they could never
have them.

They were marked.

Claimed.

“He makes me forget… all kinds of things, to be honest,” she said, the conversational tone turning
hushed, conspiratorial. She was looking at Cole with more direct attention than she’d shown him the
whole time he’d been home. That should have been a good thing, but the cold edge to her smile, the
way her pretty blue eyes were slightly narrowed in that sly way…

It got worse. She drew up those plump, pink lips that so many men had daydreamed about in this
town into a mock pout, her eyes shifting from Cole down to her tits – down to the Queen of Spades –
as her hand left her hair and, instead, pressed gently into the side of her breast, squeezing it tightly
against the other.

Smiling through the pout, she softly jiggled them around, the coldness leaving her face as she looked
down at the symbol on her tits with a warmth that Cole had only ever seen directed at him, when he
was younger.
She looked back up at Cole.

Cole’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears. His face had been flushed for so long now that he forgot
what it felt like, normally.

He desperately hoped his mother couldn’t see he was hard as a rock in his shorts.

He glanced down to check. His heart sank, as it always did, when he looked in that direction, before
he could even be relieved.

Of course she couldn’t see it.

It was too small.

Her hand still pressed against one breast, his mother pouted more pronouncedly.

But she was smiling wider, too.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said softly. “But Daddy… wanted you to see. And Daddy gets what he
wants.” His mother didn’t even finish the sentence before the words trailed, to his horror, into a soft,
throaty moan. Her thick, bare thighs rubbed against each other restlessly. Her teeth bit gently down
into her lower lip. “Mmmmmn~ and if he doesn’t get it… he takes it~” Her breaths quickened. She
murmured, softly, needily: “He’s such a… Man.”

“What?” Cole heard himself whisper, as if from a great distance. “What…? Mom… what is…” He
gulped audibly, willing himself not to look, and failing, at the way his mother’s slender fingers were
rubbing idly at the nub of one thick nipple, over her bikini, her thighs still rubbing together in a way
that a deep, instinctive urge told Cole no son should ever see his mother doing. “Hey… what is that…
on your chest…?”
“The fuck it look like, you stammering little bitch?”

The sound of that voice, after all this time, made Cole let out an involuntary whimper.

He thought, for just a second, that he might piss his pants.

9.

It was like something straight out of Cole’s teenage nightmares. Something he had been positive
would eventually happen, something he dreaded most of all, that he would invade even his own
home, the one place he was supposed to be safe from his torment, but which had never happened –
a small victory that he savored right alongside the fact he had never crossed paths with Mom.

If Cole wasn’t so acutely aware of everything – the subtly awful, shallow breaths of his mother right
next to him as she moaned under her breath, the equally subtle sound of the soft white flesh of her
thighs rubbing together –

of the thudding, heavy footfalls making their way across the backyard grass –

– and there he was.

Everything else seemed to fade. Everything, to Cole’s eye, was swallowed up by the gravity of his
presence, because it was all he could see, all he could hear, all his panicking, racing mind could
absorb.

The sight and sound of Dyer, the bully who had roughed up and humiliated him all through high
school, the bully who had stolen his childhood crush away before he could even take her on a single
date (she’d never been the same after that, even before she showed up to school with a swollen,
pregnant stomach, before she’d dropped out, ashamed, a promising future sidetracked on the
sadistic whim of one swaggering egotistical bully), stomping his way toward the pool, that same,
loathsome cocky grin showing white teeth starkly on his handsome black face, a faint sheen of sweat
clinging to his powerful torso (bigger he’s gotten bigger fuck taller too), only a pair of black swim
trunks providing him any decency –

– except it wasn’t any kind of decency at all.

Because every heavy, swaggering step drew attention, inexorably, irresistibly, to the monstrous,
prominent bulge of his crotch, a bulge so large that swim trunks that might otherwise have been
baggy looked uncharacteristically tight, the meaty monstrosity packed inside flopping and wobbling
heavily with his steps.

And just like that sight had back in high school, it made Cole feel so helpless, so small, like so much
less, that he might as well have shrank down into a ball and disappeared.

This had to be a bad dream.

Another bad dream he would wake up from, sweaty and panting, in his college dorm bed, only to feel
the sweet relief of the realization it wasn’t real, to coax himself back to sleep with those simple,
comforting thoughts:

In the end, it could have been worse.

At least he never…

Got to her.

But every shuddering, anxious breath only led, one after another, to the next. And all Cole could do
was stare, horrified, as Dyer reached him and his mother by their backyard pool, and simply stood
there, towering over them both, that monster barely crammed into his swim trunks practically eye
level with Cole as he sat by the side of the pool, his eyes helplessly fixed on that bulge even more
irresistibly than they had been on his mother’s body.

He wasn’t the only one staring at it.

“Daddy~!”

He hadn’t even noticed his mother get up, but there was no missing the way she stared so raptly
down at Dyer’s massive bulge as her heels clacked daintily and she jiggled her way over to him, her
bubbly, fat mature ass clapping audibly against itself from how eagerly she approached, throwing her
arms around burly black shoulders that couldn’t have been more opposite Cole’s scrawny, weak
ones.

It hit him, then, as if on a delay – like his poor, overwhelmed brain was just now hearing it.

Daddy

All this time… just now… the Daddy his mother had been so lovingly, reverently referring to –

Was him.

Cole felt as if he might throw up.

The feeling only intensified, horror etched on his face, as he watched his mother, cooing with a
tenderness he had never heard from her in his entire life, even directed toward her own son when he
was younger, before passionately pressing her mouth against his high school bully’s.

Even Cole’s heavy, ragged breaths of building panic weren’t enough to drown out the sultry, muffled
moans coming from his mother as her lips wetly, noisily slurped against Dyer’s smug, smirking ones,
making out with the towering black bully like one of the horny teenage girls Cole had seen in high
school hallways.

And just like with those girls, it was impossible, even with Cole actively trying not to see, not to notice
how, with every muffled moan, every wet slurp of soft female mouth against his, Dyer’s already
maddeningly, unfairly well-endowed bulge started to throb, to twitch, to grow bigger… and bigger.

And bigger.

Cole was so close that, after just a few angry, eager twitches in Dyer’s swim trunks, it seemed like it
might smack against his face at any moment.

His mother saved him from that.

But not in the way any mother ever should have.

She moaned, particularly loudly, into Dyer’s mouth, a tender, throaty noise dripping with so much
sexuality that he could barely recognize it as his mother’s voice. She pressed herself tightly into the
bully’s side, her curvy, soft white body standing out brilliantly against his firm black skin, the squishy
plump white breasts that had once nourished Cole pressing eagerly into the broad powerful chest of
the bully who had tormented him for years, her body writhing with barely concealed need, a need to
present all that softness and supple mature femininity to the last man on Earth she should have ever
wanted to give it to, let alone so eagerly.

Her hand trailed slowly, lovingly, down Dyer’s calmly breathing chest, down his abs, until her soft,
dainty hand wrapped, with endless care and gentleness, around the massive tent in the bully’s
trunks, angling it to the side, away from Cole’s face.

She started, giggling into Dyer’s mouth, to stroke it, over his trunks.

Dyer sneered, letting out his own low, dark laugh into her mouth as he aggressively smacked his lips
against hers, barely even having to move to take control of their sloppy makeout session, his hooded
eyes trailing down over his mother’s fat white tits pressed into his own chest, down over the swell of
her even fatter, wobbling milky-smooth ass.

Cole wanted to scream.

His mother –

He –

He was looking at HIS MOTHER LIKE THAT –

The urge grew so overpowering that he felt he would faint, then, as Dyer’s strong, thick-fingered
black hand, the hand that had given him so many black eyes and bloodied noses as a teenager,
came caressing its way into view, his palm pressed firmly, possessively, against the generous swell
of his mother’s bubbly, fat asscheek, his rougher skin audible against her smoother, endlessly soft
pale flesh.

But he didn’t scream.

He was too scared to do that.

Instead, all he could do was whimper, reflexively, as that same hand abruptly left his mother’s ass –
and swooped back down, a fleshly, sharp SMACK! filling the open air of their backyard as Dyer
casually, roughly spanked one of her cheeks.

His mother’s mouth left Dyer’s as her head lolled back, a dumb, ditzy smile on the face that had
always been so gentle and warm as she looked back over her shoulder, watching along with Dyer –
and her son – as her fat, shelf-like ass reacted to the smack, pronounced ripples making her freshly
reddened, handprinted pillowy-soft asscheeks clap and bounce against each other, each jiggle
traveling right down her thick, curvy thighs.
Her eyes wandered over to Cole, noticing he was watching. Cole looked up at her, pleading stamped
all over his face – pleading for her to stop, pleading for an explanation, just pleading –

His mother’s lips curled into a slow, wide smile of delight. Looking right at Cole, she slowly,
exaggeratedly, ran her wet, slimy tongue over her bottom lip, moaning deep in her throat.

“See, sweetie~? Like I said...” She pointedly looked at the tent in Dyer’s trunks, the one that looked,
now, as if it was practically a foot long, his trunks straining so heroically to contain that twitching, hard
slab of young cock that the legs were being hitched halfway up his firm black thighs by now. His
mother cooed lovingly as she stared at it with reverent eyes, her soft hand rubbing it harder, her
fingers looking almost comically small compared to how thick Dyer’s bulge was. “Daddy… gets what
he wants~”

His mother’s lipstick was smeared messily, faintly, around the corners of Dyer’s mouth as he
sneered down at Cole, his own breathing coming out just a little faster as he enjoyed that warm,
loving motherly hand fondling his barely-contained bully cock. His thick dark fingers squeezed harshly
into her fat, smooth milky-white ass, kneading, groping with a casual possessiveness that broke
Cole’s heart – because of the way his mother, cooing delightedly, pressed her hips back, like she
was coaxing his high school bully to abuse her ass even more, knowing full well he was right there
watching.

“Mom… Mom, why...” he breathed, almost not wanting to know the answer, but knowing,
nonetheless, that he had to hear her answer. “Don’t you…? Don’t you know… who he is?”

His mother dragged her attention away from Dyer’s cockbulge with visible effort and she looked back
at Cole, distractedly, pouting at him with that shadow of a wicked smile tugging at her perfect, plush
lips, her hands continuing to rub and fondle it.

“Know? The fuck?” Dyer’s deep, rough voice cut in before she could say anything, leaving her to
just stare down at Cole with that exaggerated pout as she rubbed his bully’s cock to its full size in his
swim trunks. Cole hated the whimper that escaped him, yet again, as Dyer delivered another harsh,
territorial spank to his mother’s ass. Cole’s eyes helplessly darted from the resulting clapping and
wobbling of her phat white assmeat to the unholy monster reaching its full, impossible size in Dyer’s
shorts, side by side, and he tried, desperately, to will his own body to stop reacting, more and more
horrified by it every second.
It should have stopped reacting by now –

– why was it only getting stiffer?!

No matter how small it was, no matter how, for once, that was almost a good thing, keeping it
concealed – if it kept throbbing between his legs like this, sooner or later, there would be a stain –

– he would see –

she would see!

“I told her alllll about it, pussyboy.” Dyer drawled from above, gloating dripping from every word as
he smirked down at the victim who had thought he was free of this, who thought he had escaped, but
was right back where he belonged. That thick-fingered black hand, the one Cole could still see in his
memories swinging for him so many times, sank slowly, roughly, into his mom’s soft, endlessly
yielding big wobbling globes of assfat, the flesh so eager to surrender to his rough, domineering grip.
“Was real upfront about it. Wanted her to know exactly whose big, fat fucking black dick she was bout
to be slobbering all over. Ain’t that right, you dumb slut?”

Another casual, firm SMACK! to her mature fat ass. Cole’s mother moaned loudly, the sound trailing
off into a softer, prolonged whimper of her own, a whimper not of fear like Cole’s but of undeniably,
obscenely primal need, the sound of a female in the grip of a true alpha male feeling her instincts to
submit and serve grow stronger with every brutish act of his abuse and ownership. She turned away
from Cole, her long lashes fluttering as she pressed her face into Dyer’s firm black chest – and
started, lovingly, to plant soft, wet kisses all over it, her hips writhing and gyrating whorishly against
his side, making her reddened, spankmarked ass wobble and jiggle nonstop.

“I was barely done telling her about the first time I made you cry like a little sissy bitch in the locker
room before she was kissing up and down allllll this...”

Dyer shoved his trunks down.

Cole’s mother gasped loudly – and let out the loudest, neediest moan he’d ever heard, from any
woman, even in all his years of watching porn, much of which had served as brief, much-needed
escape from the torment of the very bully his own mother was fawning over and moaning for now.

Cole didn’t make a sound.

He could only stare in perfect, shell-shocked silence.

Or maybe, more accurately – cock-chocked silence.

He’d heard cocks referred to as ‘third legs’ before, but never before had he seen one that actually
deserved the term.

Until now.

For a long, drawn out moment, he was convinced he was hallucinating, that his panic was making
him see things that weren’t real. But then the scent hit him, too, a second after the sight, a raw,
natural odor that was, somehow, inexplicably, and utterly Man, a smell that Cole recognized as such
despite never in a million years smelling it from himself, his own little thing barely presented a sight
let alone a smell –

No. He was all too aware. Aware enough that this sight, the first sight he’d ever had of exactly what it
was that gave Dyer such arrogance all this time, that had let him go through the girls of their school
one after the other, knocking up God only knew how many of them, the rumors changed depending
on who was spreading them – aware enough that this sight of it would stay with him for the rest of his
life.

Darker than the rest of his bully, Dyer’s monstrous cock twitched and throbbed between firm black
legs that it looked, impossibly, in that moment, practically just as thick as; despite the power of its
bucking and swelling, it was still so fucking big, so fucking heavy, that sheer gravity made it droop
under its own weight between every twitch, making it all too clear how its rock hard, veiny black mass
hung practically down to the bully’s knees.
As did the equally ominous, impossible mass of his black, low-hanging ballsack. It swayed heavily,
subtly, side to side like some kind of primal hypnosis past Dyer’s hard, destructive slab of cock. Cole
briefly, frenziedly, was positive he could see the potent loads of alpha seed sloshing around in that
smooth, sweaty swollen ballsack, like if he touched it he would feel the weight of endless bully nut
ready to unload all over and defile every woman Cole would ever love –

As if on cue, his mother’s gentle, feminine white fingers slid down over Dyer’s dark-skinned crotch,
lovingly caressed over the veiny, turgid, rock-hard surface of that monstrous black cock.

Cole couldn’t help but look up at her face.

He had never seen anything like the clouded, flushed adoration on her face, her long eyelashes
fluttering dreamily as she stared at his bully’s overgrown homewrecker, her wet, slimy tongue licking
all over her mouth in restless want.

“You know something, loser?”

Cole looked, reflexively, toward Dyer, hating how that deep, authoritative voice made him obey even
now, all this time later.

“This fat-assed old hoe you got for a mom was so starved for this big black bullydick that she gave
even sloppier top the first time than that skinny little bitch you actually thought was gonna go on a
date with you, back then,” Dyer crowed, half-laughing. His obscene monster of a cock gave a
particularly aggressive twitch, as if to emphasize the point of how absurd it had been for Cole to think
he ever stood a chance with his childhood crush.

“ What kinda mom are you, huh?” Dyer grunted, his smirking attention turning to Cole’s mother. He
gave her the roughest smack to her ass yet, the fleshy SMACK! ringing out like a gunshot.

Her head lolled back again, blonde locks shifting, long lashes fluttering rapidly over clouded eyes as
she smiled stupidly and moaned, loud, throaty, needy.
Cole wondered, distantly, if the neighbors could hear all this.

“You a bad mommy, aren’t you?” Dyer sneered at her, both his hands kneading and groping
aggressively on her fat, wobbling, thoroughly reddened ass.

Cole’s mother, breathing heavily, smiled dreamily up at him. Cole stared, all the while, at her hand,
her fingers barely wrapping around half of Dyer’s veiny, gnarled monster cock as the pumped gently,
lovingly, up and down just a fraction of its colossal length.

“Yes… Daddy~” he heard her say.

10.

His black fuckpillar slapped down onto her generously padded, milky-smooth white ass so heavily
that the resulting meaty PLAP was almost as loud as the spank of the bully’s hand had been against
the soft flesh.

Cole had been forced to scatter clumsily out of their way when Dyer crudely stomped past him, still
holding his mother against his side, and shoved her down onto the poolside reclining chair.

“Hey – !” Cole had protested, meekly, his instincts as a son kicking in at seeing his mother handled
so roughly.

But she had only giggled, sounding almost drunk, a sound that was all the more jarring because it
wasn’t alcohol that had made her act this way, this differently, like a different person than the one
who had raised Cole, who had been such a good mother.
It was him.

No – maybe it wasn’t even him – maybe it was even worse, as hard as that was to imagine, as hard
as it was to imagine anything worse than his bully, the boy who had sent him home so many times
beaten and humiliated, making his own mother not simply forget what he had done to her son –

– but moan as he gloated about it –

What if all it had taken…

Was that… thing that was now draped right between her phat, cushiony asscheeks as she cooed and
jiggled them around it by shaking her hips, making the soft white flesh ripple and bounce as the veiny
black monster flopped around against it with dull, meaty smacks?

Even now, sprawled on the ground by the pool, both hands on the ground behind him propping him
up, the mere sight of it filled him with a rush of intense emotions.

Outrage –

Envy –

Fear –

But strongest of all –

A yawning, growing, desperate helplessness.

Because no matter how much he resented it – no matter how unfair it was, that such a fucking
asshole should have such a massive, powerful cock, such full, heavy balls, should be the kind of
apex male capable of turning even a mother against her own child –

Nothing could change it.

He was the one, down here, on the floor, a stain slowly growing over his own crotch as the tiny,
impotent thing he had been cursed with twitched and drooled in his underwear, unable to stop
reacting to the sight of his gorgeous, curvy mother on all fours on the poolside chair, her curvy body
jiggling all over as she presented herself in the most primitive way to the superior male that was his
high school bully, her face flushed and oozing with sensual desire as she looked over her shoulder,
so enraptured with Dyer’s enormous black cock that just feeling it nestled between her twerking
bubbly asscheeks wasn’t enough, she wanted to see it, to see that simple, animal display of
ownership as her generous, fat tits squeezed and jiggling between her upper arms, beads of sweat
trickling over the jet-black Queen of Spades on her cleavage.

That was who he was.

And Dyer –

Dyer was the one standing there behind Cole’s mom, his posture casual and relaxed and full of self-
assurance as he simply watched his bullying victim’s mother twerk and clap her fat white ass against
his massive veiny cock, that smug smirk plastered on his face.

The worst part?

He barely even looked impressed.

No. For him –

This was just another day.

Cole felt a jealousy so intense, then, that it made him dizzy.

“Get the fuck over here.”

Cole’s breath hitched in his throat. Dyer was looking at him.

Silence dragged out for a moment as Cole’s pulse hammered, desperately hoping he was wrong,
that Dyer wasn’t talking to him. But Dyer kept staring down at him, lip curled, all while his rock-hard
slab of cock flopped and smacked against Cole’s mother’s huge, soft globes of clapping and jiggling
assmeat.

“You gonna make me fuckin drag you over here? That what you want, little man?”

But it wasn’t even that threat that spurred Cole, jolted and cowed, to obey.

It was his mother’s voice cutting in, sharp, cold, demanding.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of Daddy, you scrawny little dork! Do as he says!”

Cole’s face flushed such a hot, solid red that his eyes blurred from embarrassment as he scrambled
to his feet, half-heartedly trying to cover his crotch with his hands, terrified they would see the
growing stain of his arousal on his shorts.

His mother had never spoken to him like that in his entire life. Had barely even raised her voice to
him. Not that she’d ever had much reason; he’d always been too quiet, too well-behaved, too much
of a momma’s boy to upset her.

Over his pulse in his ears, he heard that old, familiar, loathsome sound – Dyer’s loud, taunting
laughter. It made him blush even deeper, even hotter, because he wasn’t hearing it where he used
to, in a school hallway, no, he was hearing it in his own backyard, hearing it while Dyer stood there
with his monster of a black cock nestled between his mother’s plump white asscheeks.

“Shit, you haven’t changed one bit, have you? Still such a fuckin wimp,” Dyer sneered, and as he
said it, as Cole stood awkwardly next to them, the bully reached down, grabbing his mother by her
wide, yielding hips, and pulled her back toward him. She cooed as she straightened, knees on the
pool chair, her back against Dyer’s chest, one hand reaching back to caress Dyer’s leg, the other
reaching up to run a hand through her blonde hair, her big motherly breasts swaying and jiggling –
until both of Dyer’s hands gathered them up in his palms, his mother’s huge, doughy white tits the
perfect fit for Dyer’s young, powerful black hands, fingers kneading and squeezing.

Cole’s mother’s eyelashes fluttered, her teeth biting into her lower lip as she moaned deep in her
throat. She ground her fat ass back against Dyer’s crotch, his rock-hard cock still nestled right
between her squishy, smooth milky cheeks, bucking and twitching.

She looked right at Cole. Cole felt his gaze drawn to hers almost magnetically, drinking in his
mother’s face.

She looked… more beautiful than he could ever remember. The flush of her pale white cheeks… the
slight clouded gloss to her blue eyes, glinting coldly as they looked at him…

Even the way her beautiful smile had turned to a mocking smirk of her own. Not so different from the
one on his bully’s black features behind her.

“That’s right~” She cooed, voice dripping with an overabundance of sweetness that turned it right to
sourness. She paused, lashes fluttering, eyes rolling back as Dyer’s strong fingers continued to
knead and squeeze at her big, wobbling tits. “Mmmmmmmn… Mommy’s… little wimp~”

Cole didn’t know what was more mortifying –

The words, or that hearing his mother moaning so throatily, so sensually, about him, no matter how
humiliating, brought him perilously close to making a whole different kind of mess in his pants.
He heard something clicking. Saw that Dyer had picked up a bottle of tanning lotion from beside the
chair. The bully smirked sidelong at Cole as he upturned the bottle over his mother’s breasts, his
free black hand still squeezing one, hard – and then let out a deep growl of approval as he started
pouring the gooey fluid right down onto Cole’s mother’s cleavage.

Cole’s breaths were loud in his own ears as he stared raptly, his helpless fury at seeing his bully, the
man he hated more than anyone, doing this to his mother unable to stop him from being captivated
by the sight.

“Fuuuuck… your mom got tits that were just made to milk a big black cock like mine, doesn’t she?”
Dyer breathed, licking his lips. He held out the bottle of lotion to Cole; Cole, completely lost in the
view of glistening tanning lotion oozing all along the curvature of his mother’s plump breasts, didn’t
even think about it, accepting the bottle and holding it awkwardly right where he had taken it.

Dyer used his newly freed hand to wrap both arms around Cole’s mother, forcefully pulling her back
closer against his brawny chest. She gasped as the jerking motion made every curve on her body
jiggle pronouncedly, then giggled, resting her head back against Dyer’s powerful shoulder, looking
up at him dreamily as the bully returned both hands to her tits.

He pulled her bikini top to the sides. They snapped away from her tits, letting them bounce free,
completely naked in the warm afternoon air.

Cole was convinced he was cumming in his pants, right then – he felt it, warmth seeping into his
underwear. But, distantly, he realized his feverishly erect little thing was just spurting pre, unable to
help it as he beheld his mother’s perfect, fat J-cup breasts in their full, naked magnificence.

The shape of them was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen, round, sagging under their weight,
and rounded off by thick, protruding pink aerolae and their visibly stiffening nipples.

The nipples that had given him life, as a baby –

Dyer’s thick-fingered masculine hands swept over them, moving with a casual possessiveness,
rubbing the lotion all over his mother’s squishing, yielding pale titmeat, squeezing them, juggling
them around all the while, his eyes greedy as he watched them over her shoulder.

“Who owns these titties, bitch?” Dyer grunted right into Cole’s mother’s ear, and she shuddered,
wriggling against him, licking her lips.

“Daddy… Daddy and his big... black... cock own my titties...” She moaned softly, reverently. Cole’s
breathing picked up, horror mingling with fascination on his face, as he watched her reaching
between her thighs, her dainty fingers beginning to rub at her pussy over her bikini bottoms.

He observed, dully, that they were soaked.

Her jiggling, thick thighs were so drenched with her own juices that he almost thought the tanning
lotion had already oozed down there. But no. Dyer was still spreading that all over her tits, leaving
them glistening and dripping, looking almost oiled up.

Dyer sneered, gave both of her huge, doughy, freshly lotioned tits a harsh squeeze and then
smacking one of them, hard, sending it bouncing and jiggling.

“H—Hey...” Cole croaked, barely audible, not even really aware he was reflexively protesting. “Don’t
be so… rough...”

His mother was giggling. That drunken, slurred giggle, with the ditzy, lash-fluttering smile to match.

She continued to giggle as Dyer gave her a shove forward. She fell, effortlessly obedient, smoothly
prostrating herself against the poolside chair, arms stretching toward its edge, her glistening, wet
breasts squished to either side of her torso, biting her lip – and pressing her fat, wobbling ass, still
right up against Dyer’s cock, back against him, jiggling and twerking it gently, even those subtle
motions sending noticeable, appetizing ripples and jiggles through the pale, gelatinous ass-padding.

Cole’s eyes drifted back to Dyer’s cock, flopping and smacking heavily around along with his
mother’s ass-clapping. Felt that resentment bubbling up in him again, that helplessness, as he
stared at its massive length, its destructive width, the veins traveling all up and down the ebony spire
of alpha-bully masculinity.

“What you waiting for, loser?”

Cole blinked groggily. Tore his eyes away from Dyer’s cock, up to the bully’s arrogant, smirking
face.

Only for Dyer to nod right back down at his cock, at Cole’s mother’s big, rippling bubbly ass.

“Go on. Pour.”

Cole took a single, stumbling step back as it dawned on him what Dyer was demanding. A white hot
panic finally burst through the dull stupor that had been settling over him, that had gotten him through
this much. He started to shake his head.

“He said pour, young man!”

His mother had lifted her head and was glaring back at him, the sharp gaze matching the sharpness
of her voice.

The bottle was already upturned and pouring before Cole, his face beet-red with embarrassment,
could process he had been so cowed by her yet again.

He’d never known his mother could be so… harsh.

Dyer was laughing, low and dark, under his breath as he watched the glistening fluid trickle down –
down over the throbbing, rock-hard monster that was his cock, down, splashing and oozing, all over
Cole’s mother’s wobbling, gyrating white ass.
“Ooooo yes~” The harshness had left his mother’s voice, and it only made Cole more humiliated
how relieved that made him, how it set off a dopamine rush in a mind that, at this point, was all but
shut down, driven by sheer animal instincts.

And if there was one thing high school had taught him, it was that he was capable of only one animal
instinct:

Submit.

His mother’s eyes were coy as she looked at him over her shoulder again, her lips puckered. She
was working her hips, making her fat bubbly asscheeks bounce and ripple even more than before –

And Dyer –

Cole heard, faintly, a whimper emerge from himself as he watched.

Dyer wasn’t using his hands to spread the lotion this time.

One hand was gripping the base of his enormous black cock – even his powerful hand almost looking
small compared to so much cunt-gaping meat – and using his veiny, throbbing monster of a shaft to
rub the fluid all over his mother’s soft pale ass.

“Fuck yeah...” Dyer grunted, his breaths picking up, Cole seemingly all but forgotten as the bully’s
own lust began to take over more fully, his eyes hungrily watching how Cole’s mother’s endlessly
pliant, smooth white ass rippled and jiggled with every rub and smack of that rock-hard horsecock,
glistening more and more as the lotion was spread all over the wobbling, globular surface.

“Mmmmmmmmmmn...” Cole’s mother’s breaths were coming out shallow, fast. Even with all the
tanning lotion oozing down her thighs, Cole could still see the pussy fluids dribbling right through the
thin fabric of her bikini bottom. “He’s… the Man of the house, now, sweetie… you need to learn to do
as he says, okayyy? But... I don’t have to tell you that, do I, sweetie~? You can… see it...” Her smile
widened naughtily as she looked back at Cole, wiggling her hips more to make her generously
cushioned, oiled-up ass clap all around Dyer’s equally glistening, dripping black monstercock.

“I think you saw it… the second your bully whipped that FAT…nnnngh~ beautiful black cock out~
Ahhhhhhn~”

The words seemed to echo in Cole’s ears, his mother’s voice saying things he had hoped,
desperately, against hope that he would never hear her say, things he had finally allowed himself to
hope that he really never would – things he had been so happily convinced her new boyfriend would
help prevent him ever hearing –

He should have known.

He should have known that, in the end, he would be here, watching Dyer smirking with the smug,
lazy self-satisfaction of the winner, the winner who always gets what he wants, sliding his twitching,
rock-hard oiled-up pillar of black monstercock up and down between his mother’s milky-white
asscheeks.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the awful sight, even as Dyer’s hand abruptly took hold of
Cole’s dirty blonde hair, roughly pulling him a couple stumbling steps closer and forcing Cole to keep
watching.

Not that he had to.

Cole couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to. And some part of him did, frantically,
screaming at him to close his eyes, or something, that he shouldn’t see, couldn’t see this –

“Watch this, limpdick,” Dyer’s deep, rough voice growled, and Cole felt an inexplicable, instinctive
impulse, down in his very core, to do what that voice said, whatever it said, anything, just so it
wouldn’t do anything to him, because the simple truth that only that core of him knew, the truth he
tried not to think about in his waking hours, was that that was the voice of an alpha male –
– and he –

Was exactly what that voice had loudly, mockingly told him he was, all those years.

A beta male.

They had built up so many societal rationales, so many excuses, to separate themselves from that
simple, natural, primitive hierarchy.

But in the end, there was no denying nature.

And there was nothing more naturally defeating, no conquest more undeniable, than the way Dyer
pulled his hips back, lining up his swollen, fistlike cockhead with Cole’s mother’s dripping, gushing-
wet cunt –

And slowly, relentlessly, started to spear it open, wider, wider… wider… wider… wider still, around inch,
after inch, after inch of hard, bucking, obscenely overgrown black cock that plunged right through her
soft, delicate pink pussy folds like a hot knife through butter, effortless, reshaping the little pink slit
into a hole spread so wide open that Cole felt his jaw going slack, eyebrows needling together in
concern –

“Wait,” he mumbled feebly, barely audible, his fingers going limp and dropping the tanning lotion to
the concrete. “Wait, you’re – you’re going to… hurt her…!”

His heart pounded hard in his chest as his mother’s throaty, sultry moan grew louder and louder until
it was what he thought, at first, was a scream – Cole’s head jerked, snapping him out of his
fascinated staring at his bully’s monster of a cock rearranging her insides, reshaping her so utterly
and brutally before he was even halfway inside her, and he dreaded the pain he expected to see on
his mother’s face –

But there was no pain.

His mother had been a religious woman, and yet he had never seen anything like the blank, euphoric
rapture on her face now.

“oooooooOOOOOOOOOH MY FUCKING GAWWWWWD YES YES YESSSSS DEEPER DADDY

DEEPER SHOVE THAT FAT FUCKING BLACK COCK ALL THE WAY INTO MY DIRTY LITTLE
PUSSY – ”

A single, fleshy PLAP rang out in the open air.

A simple sound, one that barely lasted a second, and yet somehow, it felt like so much more.

Like… punctuation.

Cole slowly looked back.

Dyer’s groin was grinding right up into his mother’s shaking, rippling fat asscheeks, making them
squish back against his firm black skin.

Cole gawked.

His mind reeled.

How had he –

All of that – ?
All of that – was inside his mother?

His mother let out a loud, piercing cry of pleasure that made her voice break, turning hoarse. She
jolted upright, hands against the pool chair, on all fours again, her dripping, glistening breasts
hanging heavily between her arms and jiggling around as her eyes rolled back, her cheeks flushed
and red, lashes fluttering and her tongue lolling out of a stupid, brainless smile that Cole couldn’t
help but superimpose, in his mind’s eye, with the dignified, gentle motherly features he had known
for most of his life.

That was when he realized it. The concept, wordless for now, but one that would solidify more and
more in his mind until he couldn’t deny it.

This wasn’t his mother anymore.

That colossal, veiny battering ram of black fuckmeat between his bully’s legs had made her
something else completely.

Made her his.

Cole let out a soft grunt of surprise as Dyer suddenly shoved him away, sent him reeling until he
stumbled to the ground by the pool. His hands stung against the concrete, but he barely noticed.

He was sprawled on the ground right in front of his mother’s chair.

The throbbing of his hands was forgotten as he could only stare, helplessly fascinated, at his mother
cumming all over his bully’s massive cock.

He could see it even before her loud, piercing moans and cries finally formed words again – could
see her sticky, clear fem-juices splashing all over the chair between her legs, splashing back against
Dyer’s dark-skinned thighs, against his heavily hanging, sloshing big black balls –
“OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKI’MCUMMINGDADDY’MCUMMINNGGGG~”

Dyer’s hips pulled back. Slammed forward.

PLAP

Cole’s mother’s whole body shifted forward on the chair, her blonde hair swaying, her eyes rolling
back until Cole could only see the whites, her scream dwindling to a mindless, faint squeal, her plush,
wet pink lips working noiselessly, lips curled into that stupid grin as her tongue lolled out, dripping just
like her swaying, jiggling tits.

The sun caught right on the oozing, thick lotion running right over her black Queen of Spades tattoo.

PLAP

PLAP

PLAP. PLAP. PLAP. PLAPPLAPLAPPLAP

The meaty smacking of Dyer’s firm groin against Cole’s mother’s fat ass rang out louder, faster,
until it was a steady, depraved drumbeat, and it occurred to Cole, between that and his mother’s
screams of pleasure, the entire neighborhood must have been able to hear.

Cole’s mother was so close, before him, above him, that he could hear every hitch of her breath,
every moan that caught in her throat as her curvy, wobbling mature body twitched and shook, riding
out the mind-shattering pleasure that was stamped all over her flushed, drunken features – from his
angle, he could only see her heart-shaped, thick white ass clap and ripple with every PLAP of Dyer’s
hips slamming into her considerable fuckpadding, sending glistening droplets of tanning lotion flying
into the air, from both her ass and the hanging, bouncing tits that were sent swinging toward Cole
with every thrust –
Dyer threw his head back, groaning with his own loud, animal satisfaction, and lifted a hand high over
his head – only to swoop it, hard, down against Cole’s mother’s ass, as his hips continued to slap
and smack rhythmically into it, plunging that black monster balls-deep into her spluttering, gushing
pussy over and over and over and over again –

“Ohhhhhh YESSSS DADDY~ SMACK MY FUCKING ASS~”

Her eyes, fluttering, rolled back, seemed to find Cole in front of her purely by chance. She stared
blankly down at him for a long moment, still smiling that stupid, ditzy smile that was so unlike her, her
tongue still lolling out, barely seeming to register it was him down there on the ground.

Then her smile widened. Her eyes narrowed coyly. She laughed, breathlessly, between pants and
moans, and licked her lips.

“SMACK IT DADDYYYY~ SMACK IT AROUND… LIKE YOU USED TO SMACK AROUND MY

LITTLE FUCKING WIMP OF A SON~ AAAAAAAAAAHN~”

Dyer didn’t hesitate.

He did.

PLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAP

His hips were slamming into her so fast now that the fleshy smacks of his skin against hers were
practically one non-stop sound – so hard that her head was lolling around limply, as limply as her
tongue was hanging out, her eyes rolling back again and moaning with rapturous, hoarse pleasure
every time Dyer swooped down one hand, then the other, sending ripples and wobbles through her
fat wobbling white ass that made the cheeks clap together nonstop, the perfect smooth flesh mottled
with red spankmarks.
“ooOOOOOOooOoOOOoOoHhhHHH YES OH YES SO FUCKING BIG BABY HE’S SO FUCKING
BIGGG~”

Another sputtering, sticky wet mess gushed out of her, around that pummeling battering ram of black
bullycock stretching her so wide, her juices squirting all over Dyer, all over his legs, his swinging,
churning fat ballsack –

“AHHHHHHHHNNNN I’M SORRY SWEETIE MOMMY’S SORRY I REALLY AM BUT I LOVE IT I

LOVE IT I LOVE HIS BIG FAT BLACK FUCKING COCK I NEED IT BABY I NEED IT I LOVE IT
OHHHHHMYGAWD BABY I LOVE IT MORE THAN YOU I’M SORRY I LOVE IT MORE THAN
YOUUUUUU~”

Dyer snarled. His hands brusquely found Cole’s mother’s arms, tugging her forcefully back, forcing
her upright, her back against his, and the fleshy smacking of his hips against her ass became faster,
more stacatto, as the new angle made their bodies collide differently, oil and sweat and femcum
gushing everywhere between them, her tits swinging so forcefully that they were almost going in
circles, smacking against each other, bouncing, jiggling, the milky smooth swell of her huge bubbly
ass squishing and clapping lewdly every time he rammed that monster cock into her with a meaty
PLAP –

Cole, though, was staring at his groin.

He had held out for so long.

But there it was, spreading over the fabric, as, hot and quick – so quick – a watery load dribbled into
his pants.

It was barely two pathetic spurts of the little thing between his legs.

Cole’s eyes blearily wandered back up, to see Dyer’s colossal, hard, potent slab of black meat
slamming in and out of his mother’s gushing, spurting pink hole with seemingly endless stamina and
power, the veiny battering ram slick with her cascading cunt cream.
Cole’s vision dimmed. Went dark as, finally – far too late, as far as he was concerned – he felt
himself beginning to faint, as he had more than once during his teen years, when Dyer was involved.

Blissfully, he didn’t have to look at his bully’s enormous cock covered with his mother’s sloppy
juices, the hole that had brought him into the world anymore.

11.

And yet – somehow –

as vision came back to him, it was the first thing he saw. Like an afterimage burned into his very
eyes.

It was quiet, though. None of those awful, fleshy, nonstop plapping noises that had seemed to fill the
entire world, an obscene punctuation to all those things his mother was blabbering mindlessly but
that he couldn’t bring himself to believe she was really saying.

The thought occurred to him –

a dream?

It was a nice thought.

But he was staring at open sky. Felt open air on his face. He was outside, lying exactly where he’d
fainted, by the pool.
And most damning of all –

He could still feel it, between his legs.

Hot, sticky…

impotent.

He had squirted out a load into his pants while watching his bully pounding the fucking brains out of
his mother. Pounding her so hard that she said things his mother would surely never have said
otherwise. Her voice, but not her words –

“Look who’s awake~!”

Yes, that voice –

Cole started, stiffening on the ground. The sky seemed to go dark for a second, and then his mother
was leaning over him.

Cole stared, wide-eyed. His mother looked more like herself than when he’d fainted, and yet the
evidence of her obscene betrayal was all over her; her blonde hair was ruffled and messy, her
cheeks still red, eyes still slightly glazed.

Cole’s gaze wandered lower.

Her tits were still bare. Hanging right over him, still slick with tanning lotion. The Queen of Spades
tattoo seemed to mock him for staring at the cleavage it had branded.
“You always were a weak little boy, you poor thing,” his mother cooed, making Cole blush – but
nothing compared to how hard he blushed because of what followed.

“Aw, did you make a widdle mess in your underwear, sweetie?”

Cole started to stammer some excuse. His mother just giggled. It sounded like his mother, but the
sound didn’t make him smile like it used to. It made him feel small. Humiliated.

“It’s okay~ Daddy said you would probably do that. He says… you should get used to it.”

She straightened up over him. He felt, briefly, like an insect as she stared down at him from so high
above, past her considerable, wobbling breasts.

Splat

Cole blinked, rubbing a finger over whatever had just splattered down onto his face, wet and hot and
–

Sticky?

He let out a horrified gasp, hand jerking away, as he noticed the thick, gooey semen he had just
wiped from his face – he looked around above him in confusion, trying to see where it had come
from, expecting to see Dyer standing over him –

But no.

It was just his mother.

Her bikini bottom was still tugged down… and right over him, her pussy was bare.

It was still gaping, obscenely wide.

And overflowing with gooey, warm cum, fresh out of his bully’s monster black cock.

“Mom, what the FUCK?” He protested, scrambling backward, trying to get away.

His mother laughed.

“You should probably get used to that, too, sweetie,” she said coyly, reaching down to run a finger
through the dribbling, oozing load gushing out of her, so much of it that even the overflow was like a
waterfall. She licked her lips, locking eyes with her son.

“There’s going to be a lot of that around here… Daddy and I are going to have a baby, after all. I
stopped taking birth control and everything~! Isn’t that great? You’re going to have a brother!”

Beaming, she turned, her hips sauntering, ass jiggling and clapping, as she made her way back to
the house. Every step sent a dribble, or a splat, of Dyer’s fresh bully nut down to the grass below,
oozing down the insides of her wobbling pale thighs.

Cole stared after her long after she had disappeared inside, her words echoing in his head –

as he tried, very hard, not to acknowledge that he was pretty sure he had made another mess in his
pants.
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