The rest of the group responded with rousing enthusiasm to Roberta's brainstorming, especially Joanne, whose rapt attention probably couldn't have been broken by a gunshot. She was diverted only long enough to reach for her cleavage again to retrieve Tommy, who'd sunk so deep into the plump pocket of her boobs that his mother had to insert her whole hand to find her three-inch boy marooned in swollen milkbag fat. He arose with ease, though, as the path was thoroughly slicked in sweat now. When Tommy's face reappeared, Kyle almost wasn't sure the guy was awake, but it was just dizzied revulsion: a feeling Kyle too knew well.
"Don't mind us," Joanne muttered, merrily swaying in her chair. She circled a fingertip around her boy's head, then stroked his face with tenderness that showed her definition of their parent-child relationship was already changing. "And forgive my indelicacy, everyone, but I'm getting soggy at the thought of what my little one and I have to try back home now. Everything's become so clear, you know? Big or small, rich or poor... and my baby's definitely the small and poor type... every teenage boy needs his release. That's just hard-wired in there, and frankly, I'd be a monster NOT to give my Tommy that outlet. God knows I need it, too."
"There's no such thing as "indelicacy" in this room," the therapist reassured everyone again. "The beauty of this place is that everyone has the freedom to express themselves, especially in a space meant specifically for couples, in whatever way they need to. And please believe me when I say whatever way they need to. You are safe here to show the hearts of your relationships, and learn from one another's graces."
"C-Couldn't we... s-slow it down... too?"
The mouse-like voice was so quiet and uncertain, none of the women even identified the speaker as Kyle until he'd finished. With all eyes on him now, some more disapproving than others, the therapist nibbled the end of her note-taking pen and observed the boy like he was an unruly toddler in need of coddling.
"Well, that's one way to consider it, I suppose," she replied slowly. "So, Kyle, if I'm to understand correctly... you feel you'd be helped in your relationship with your mother by... reducing the very factors that have made it this strong in the first place?"
"It's all h-happening too fast. I c-couldn't... can't... take even m-more. Please, if... we just t-tried doing less... just giving me a break before, I... I might..." Kyle stammered.
He hated his own guts for the fact that once again his lowball offer involved merely delaying getting full-body fucked by his own titanic parent, not eradicating the incestuous disease altogether, which was the actual message screaming inside his brain. Still, he had a feeling that if he humbly suggested Roberta completely stop dressing him like a dildo, sticking him to the wall, and allowing her drooling cunt to scarf him up over and over, he'd be laughed out of the room. So he dropped to his knees in his mom's lap, hands prayerfully clasped, and looked around the group for even a shred of sympathy. He saw none, though, least of all from his mother, who just covered her face with her palm in sincere disappointment and near-embarrassment.
"All right, I guess I can be the one to tell the poor kid," Joanne announced during the awkward silence that followed, and spoke directly to Kyle. "Baby-cakes, it sounds like you're talking from a place of zero experience. Backing away from your problems won't help you solve them, and in this case, it sounds like you're not putting in the same effort toward a union with your angel of a mama. You're still just a boy, a little boy in a lot of ways, even though you're a "man" according to the law, and sometimes you've just got to trust that Mother knows best. Roberta, darlin', I couldn't agree more with you, yet again. I've got so many ideas now to test out when we get home, I think I need to start writing them down before they slip away."
Tommy reacted to this news by squirming more vigorously in the flabby vice-grip of his mom's boulder-sized boobs. Every time he'd manage to wedge one of his arms over his head, attempting to grab the pliable terrain, he'd fail and seep a little deeper into her sweat-lubed cleavage, only helped back up by his mom's klutzy fingers poking Tommy in the face just as much as dragging him back toward the light. Though he'd remained silent up to now, the boy finally began mewling in protest, mostly unintelligibly. Irritated, Joanne loudly shushed her son, quieting him by pressing her fingertip flush to his head, then jolted still, struck by an idea. Taking full advantage of the therapist's invitation to "express" their relationships however needed, the woman propped under her left breast with both hands and began to push up, until the doughy excess of freckled skin started to spill over the neckline of her top, hardly any of it contained by the bra cup now. Her brown nipple, stiffened to a point by arousal and goosebumps, peeked over the rim, and steadily revealed the wide bump-riddled halo of her areola. That overinflated tit, which somehow appeared even larger once it was exposed to the room, came unsheathed from its enormous holster rather easily thanks to the volume of sweat glazing her skin in a sticky shine and darkening the fabric of the bra.
With half her rack now unashamedly displayed to the silent audience, Joanne briefly rescued her son from the suffocating constriction of her cleavage, only to instead lay his little naked body face-first over the rock-hard summit of her teat. It became painfully clear now that her areolas were so spacious, even when stretched spread-eagle, that Tommy wasn't tall enough to reach opposite edges at once. The stump of her nipple, on its own half the size of the boy, kept his spine unnaturally arched to compensate for the density of that sensitive tip pressed into his stomach. With her son positioned right where she wanted, Joanne then plucked the lip of her brassiere, tugging it up and over her breast. She only allowed it to snap back to place like a rubber band around her heaping breast once she was certain Tommy would be pinned to the middle, with his limbs flopped across her grooved areola and his chest quivering against her titillated nip.
Inside, Tommy did his best to worm away. Sliding in any direction would do nothing to help him escape, but at least he wouldn't have his mom's erect udder jammed to his abdomen. Unfortunately, the act of his squirming only served to stimulate Joanne further, which in turned caused her nipple to pulsate ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but to a three-inch hormonal nudist with his cock squeezed up against goosebumped flesh oiled in fragrant sweat, it was enough to set off some sensory alarm bells.
For all his pointless fighting, being cramped here in the muggy, dewy sandwich of the bra and Joanne's bosom, Tommy was starting to tingle. Even when his member hardened sufficiently that his mother could feel its pinprick depressing her cellulite, he kept on resisting and wriggling. After a minute of these mixed signals, though, Joanne was prompted to fish her fingers down into the cup again to bring out her feisty horned-up offspring and dangle his diminutive nakedness in front of her face.
The puny eighteen-year-old found himself hung up close, face-to-mole with the darkened tan bump of what his gigantic mother affectionately called her beauty mark. This facial landmark was offset on the curve of her peach-fuzz-lined upper lip, above which Joanne's large nostrils flared and narrowed, rhythmically exhaling and causing nose hairs to billow toward the light like thin windsocks.
"Sweetie-pie, why are you fighting this so hard?" Joanne grumbled, setting the wide landscape of nostril wisps, blonde lip hair, and prominent mole in gentle motion while her lips flapped. "Seriously, how hard is it to get with the freakin' program? We're among friends now. There's no need to be embarrassed about feeling the things you want to feel, even if they're new and scary at first. Everybody here wants you to see what you're missing out on, too. Look, I'm not blind, you're at that precious stage between teenager and full man, and you have needs! It's no secret that boys like you only have one thing on their minds every minute of the day, and that thing is SMUT! Yes, little one, even your mother knows about these things. I want it, they want it for us, and apparently this happy little boner of yours wants it too, so what's standing in our way? Really, shouldn't you be thanking me for giving you the push to try new things? Oh, mercy, this thing between your legs is getting bigger by the second, and yet you're still lying to yourself? What, did you bonk yourself on the head? Here, sweetie, let Mama kiss the boo-boo to make it all better, like she always has."
Joanne's appeal to her handheld partner blurred into a moist mumble, when she promptly wrapped her undulating lips over her three-inch son's unwilling hard-on. They pulsed and puckered, sealing the sloppy smooch with a long wet squeal the tighter her mouth fastened around the shrunken victim's cock, all while the boy squirmed in his mom's quivering fingers. While what she was doing to Tommy technically was a kiss by some twisted definition, Kyle knew from similar experiences with his own parent that Joanne's actions had very little in common with a typical, healthy mother's wound-healing kiss on a child's scuffed knee. The giantess's French snogging on her offspring's pecker lasted an uncomfortable half-minute, during which the room stayed quiet aside from the sloshing and smacking of Joanne's amorous orifice, though other every pair of eyes in the room was attentively focused on the current speaker while she helped herself to another open-minded and therapeutic expression of her relationship status.
"Just think about it rationally with me, Tommy..." Joanne said, jumping back into her persuasive argument without skipping a beat once she'd dislodged her plump lips from her thumb-sized son's crotch. Despite the togetherness of her statements, she couldn't suppress a goofy smile at seemingly discovering for the first time how simple it was to steal a kiss whenever she liked. "Let's just rip the Band-Aid off now and say it out loud, sugar-plum, ‘cause everybody else knows it too: you're just not going to have a normal love life. Look at ya. Three inches tall, no job, no house, no prospects, and no money. Who's lining up around the block for that husband, huh? Where are they? I sure haven't seen them come to break down the door while you've been back home with me, where you belong. First come, first served."
"Y-You're supposed to be my Mom!" Tommy peeped. His barely-audible words slurred while he hung like a fishhooked guppy off his mom's fingers, victim to the unfortunate hormones at play after she'd kiss-suckled his family jewels. "You s-should want to help me fix this!"
"What do you think I've been doing all this time, sweetie?" Joanne condescendingly chuckled. She rubbed her round cheek in contemplation, briefly contorting her features and inadvertently causing Tommy's face to brush tenderly along the paltry fuzz of her upper lip again. "I'm helping you right here, right now, to realize your full potential, or at least as full as you can reach after that bitch left you with nothing. Look, Tommy, face the facts: even if we could make you big-boy size again, what's going to happen to you the minute you walk out my door? You'll just fall back into another one of their traps. I hate to break it to ya, but girls like the one who broke your little heart and ran off with everything are a dime a dozen in this world. I can see exactly what you need, though. I always have and I always will. Here I am, prepared to keep on "raising" you forever while you're on the cusp of manhood, to care for you and provide for your every need, and even though you keep on pushing against your mama's love for who-knows-why, I'm still here, ready to give it all to you. Really shows you the caliber of mother you were born to, huh, sweetie?"