Tommy blinked, unsure whether it was worse to answer yes or no, so he remained silent, too terrified of his lips accidentally brushing the tacky wall. The funk wrapped around him in a dense micro-fog, just as the little guy's arms were gradually made to embrace the trunk-like foundation of the dildo itself. Somehow it was even more demoralizing to have his tiny nose pressed up against a cylinder that had very recently ventured inside his mom's crotch, only to discover that it wasn't the grossest-smelling object in the universe. That he could almost tolerate it. As Joanne's palm adjusted its position at his back, one of the loose pubes tickled over Tommy's cheek like a pussycat's whisker.

            "I suppose the hair might take a little gettin' used to, also. But for the record, darlin', there's nothing wrong with a woman keeping her carpet. I'm willing to bet your ex-bimbo had everything lasered off like some kind of freaky alien mannequin, so we'll have to re-educate you a little on what looks and feels natural on a real woman, but trust me on this one: Everyone, some of us more than others, is meant to have a little runway strip down there, and I expect after some experience, you'll come to appreciate it more than something smooth as a cue ball."

            "P-Please, Mom... t-this is going so fast. C-Can't we just... stop... and t-talk about this?" Tommy moaned, wrenching his head as far from the dildo as he could before Joanne nudged him cheek-to-pube with it again.

            "Oh, I guess you may have a point there, sweetie-pie. It's possible I'm getting ahead of myself here," the woman miraculously agreed, setting the glue bottle back down. "We'll work ourselves up to this stage. Neither of us is going to have much fun if you haven't been trained for it first. I admit though, it'll be tough to hold back, because seeing you getting all snuggly with Big Ben and feeling you in the groove of it already with your precious little arms and legs... it's got me just about ready to burst in my pants, here and now, from all the anticipation."

            Gob-smacked at his mother's upchuck-worthy audacity, the boy's jaw dropped, which was unwise considering his lips were still hovering a millimeter from a heavily-perfumed, cum-sticky citadel of a used dildo. Upon momentarily kissing his parent's gummy sex toy in his appalled state, Tommy resumed trying to squirm out of Joanne's clutches.

            "Sorry, baby, did I offend your delicate little sensibilities?" the woman boomingly cackled, as though buzzed on the situation itself. "Not used to hearing your mother talk that way, huh? Maybe you've just imagined me only one way, never letting yourself see the possibilities. I'm not some fuddy-duddy, ya know. I'm in the prime of my life, just like you are in yours. And the fact of the matter is, Tommy, that your Mommy is a squirter. I always have been, even when I first discovered how to play my instrument, so to speak. It does mean a little extra mess, but it's only because I feel every activity more passionately, as any lover should. And you always did want to sit in the splash zone when we went to the dolphin shows at the zoo, darlin'. Well, consider that your practice for this. Say, that gives me an idea!"

            Now limp as a zombie in the sandwiched space between his mom's clammy fingerpads and the musky hyper-real dildo, Tommy wasn't keen to learn whatever idea had been sparked in her mind by explaining to him how her ejaculate only emerged in a vile spurt. However, he didn't have much say in the matter, as Joanne's mammoth ass shoved her chair back so she could stand. The woman did at last cease cupping him against her nine-inch toy, for which he was grateful, but Tommy had a feeling he'd soon wish he could go back to simply wrapping his meager self over Big Ben in the open air. Joanne lumbered off, her purposeful footsteps quaking the table and her son with it. He could see her in the living room, fumbling with a drawer then speedily returning with her sewing kit in hand.

            As his humongous mother came charging back, now with her broad waist roughly even with his lowly shrunken eyeline, Tom found himself staring ominously at the giant bulging cameltoe pressed plump to her overly tight pants like an extra set of cleavage unto itself, only with an even more grossly generous division between the fat lips. With each step back toward him, her thick gapless thighs swishing against one another, those denim-veiled flaps of vaginal flesh were manipulated into alternately swelling, one side then the other, in time with her thudding strides.

            And if this view wasn't intimate enough for Tommy, as well as panic-renewing, Joanne promptly set the kit down and proceeded to all but rip her jeans off. The button nearly popped off in her haste, the seams straining as she tugged them down her pillowy cellulite, until the pants were tangled around the giantess's ankles, leaving her in a pair of shape-revealing panties far too scant for a woman of her age and tremendous bulk.

            Tommy's eyes bugged so wide he couldn't have closed them even if he tried, though he desperately wished to do so. While his mother was technically wearing underwear, she may as well have had a piece of tissue paper strung over her nethers, for all the coverage it gave her. The forest edge of her pubes, just as brunette and swirly as the leftovers stuck to the dildo, spanned well past the borders of her panties, the lower samples flush with her thigh flab and the upper rim practically reaching her belly.

            Though Tommy's experience with pubic growth was limited to internet porn, it was by far the hairiest box he'd ever seen, close-up and expanded as though it had been blown up on a movie theater screen, and yet he'd only seen the nasty fringes so far. Since her cameltoe was prominent enough to press through her pants, the underwear was practically gulped between her chunky lips, the silken fabric outlining the exact geometry of her pussy like a second layer of skin. Even with her crotch squeezed between such roomy thighs, those hefty lips managed to kiss their way through the thong and be seen by their spooked little audience. He only wished his mom would pull the jeans back on, and in fact would've been willing to continue the stare-down with her clothed cameltoe then in exchange, but of course this wasn't a negotiation, and already Joanne was doing her best to seductively pluck her underwear down her enormous legs.

            Once removed, the panties were laid gracefully flat on the table behind Tommy. His eyes followed them, if only to avoid seeing his mother's ballooned privates in the bare hairy flesh, but this seemed to be Joanne's plan anyway. She heavily reseated herself while her fingers snatched the boy up again and transported him to the center of her underwear, spread like a picnic blanket. Tommy felt the moisture from the moment his naked body contacted the worn-out panty folds, realizing that not only was the majority of the underwear's frontside at least partially wetted, but that it was most darkly and gooily weighed down with her ooze right where Joanne intended on splaying her miniature son.

            Thankfully positioned on his back, Tommy was treated to the feeling of warm slovenly gunk sponging out of the fabric like syrup when his mom pressed him into her plus-size undergarment.

            "Now you can feel just how turned on you made your Mommy, baby," Joanne announced, making her son feel smaller with each repeat of this sickening pet-name. As she spoke, she picked through her sewing kit, producing a needle and thread. "Such a naughty boy. Yes, you. It's all your fault, really, that we're doing this in the first place, when you think about it. If we didn't click so well, we'd just be stuck together, trying to learn to live in disharmony, ya know? Sounds AWFUL. No, I'm certain this is going to fix every hang-up there's ever been between us. Oy, I can't even wait now. My muff has just been hankerin' for a taste of you ever since the session."

            While she rambled on, Joanne licked the string to fit through the needle, expertly pinned her son's limbs precisely where she wanted, and began threading new bindings over Tommy's stem-thin arms and legs, then another elastic layer over his chest for good measure. Again she carried on humming a familiar happy tune the boy had gotten used to noticing from her around the house over the years, but never dreamed he'd be hearing its refrain while Joanne literally sewed his body into her cum-gushed panties right over the wettest itchiest fluid patch. In this peaceful calm before the storm, Tommy just managed to catch his breath, and though it became harder to move with each loop of string his giant mother used to lash him into her parachute-scaled ejaculate-laden underwear, he knew it was now or never to speak up for a last word before judgment.

            "M-Mom, just think about t-this... talk to me... y-you only met those p-people today, and n-now you're j-just doing the same c-crazy things they are..." he whimpered. "This is so insane, Mom, it's just f-fucking bonkers. W-Wait, PLEASE! Y-You said I was used to a s-shaved... you-know-what... but we never even had s-sex before she ran off with everything, honest! I'm s-still a virgin. A-And... and you're g-gonna take that away from me... y-you, my... my MOM. Oh, fuck..."

            "Now you're talking some sense, honey-pie. Well, not the majority of what you said, anyway. I just mean the last part... you know... ‘oh, fuck'... it's a very good suggestion!" Joanne replied, kind yet totally unmoved by his groveling. Her beaming smile widened with what seemed to be genuine motherly pride. "Now, we're not going to get ahead of ourselves, just like I promised, but you are going to get a sample of what's coming to you, just like I'm going to cum to... well, I won't spoil the surprise. It's moments like this that I'm reminded I raised you well, darlin', which makes it all the more unfortunate that certain parties had to go and ruin your chances of a conventional life, but ya know what? Conventional never really worked for us anyhow. Bottom line, you're barely a man, in many ways still a boy, absolutely stinking with hormones and testosterone... and up to now, with no good place to spout them off. You should be glad that I'm finally going to give you the release you've obviously been so desperately in need of since that bitch screwed you over. At the same time, you'll have a head-start on your new duties: head being the most important word there. Instead of all the clumsy, pleasureless first-time nerves you would've had to suffer with the hairless twat on that hairless ex-twat of yours, I'm giving you the fast-pass to being grown-up, even though you've only grown-down. Mommy is going to bury you in all the pussy you could possibly handle, and much more than that even. But a little extra is always better than not enough, as I always say."

            To punctuate her point, Joanne flattened her palm against the doughy brunt of her boob and then the paunch of her gut just above her nude lower half, while Tommy was left to fidget uselessly in the iron-taut lining of his mother's skilled seamstressing work. His whole backside was dampened on the cusp of pruning thanks to the volume of cum.

            "This really is a marvelous trade-off we've stumbled upon here, darlin'. You, exploring new horizons and learning just how incredible real carnal pleasure can be, and me, passing on my wisdom and getting some of the relief I've been denied for so long by undeserving men, when the boy I wanted and needed all along was right in my reach this whole time. Shouldn't a hardworking, smart, beautiful, full-bodied, experienced woman especially get to savor the same outlets as her horny little son? Oh, you can't imagine how much I've been aching for this, sugar-plum, for you," Joanne continued, checking her handiwork and prodding the needle's point precariously close to her naked shrinky's vulnerable limbs. The longer she spoke her new philosophy, the huskier and more slurred-together her words became, like chanting a spell. "And when it comes down to it, if you're going to live under my roof, you're going to do your part, one way or another. No son of mine is going to be a moocher. And seeing how you're the only man of the house now, teeny-tiny man or not, this really is the best way for you to contribute something. I have to believe it's a much better deal than mopping the floors or dusting the countertops. Give a little pleasure, and you'll get a lot back in return. That's the deal. Easy-peasy. Now, let's see how well you fit."