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Angela Ziegler’s Crippling Boy-Cock Addiction	By : Tastatura Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 47021 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters portrayed. Overwatch and Mercy do not belong to me. I make no money by doing this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Of the many skills that Mercy had cultivated in her time as an adult, her ability to concentrate on the tasks presented to her was among the few that she actually took pride in.

Unlike medical research or surgical prowess, concentration was something that anyone could master given adequate drive and dedication. As well, few other proficiencies could be mastered alongside it. If one wished to become better at concentration, the most straightforward method by which to do so was to practice concentrating.

Mercy did practice. In everything that she did, she put a great deal of mental effort into keeping her eyes on the proverbial prize. Even when her life required that she direct her attentions towards something other than what she had chosen—a common happening amongst Overwatch operatives—she rarely experienced much difficulty in transplanting them. In fact, the more often she was made to switch goals, the more open she became to these events altogether.

To others, her abilities seemed uncanny. Operative or no, there was something to be said about a woman who so readily put things down and picked others up.

For as long as she could remember, Mercy proudly described her talent as something cultivated—something acquired and not to bestowed. However, upon happily 'succumbing' to sexual coupling with her adoptive son, the true source of her ability became clear to her.

As it turned out, she was not particularly good at concentrating at all. Right up until the first time Yuuta drove his manhood into her hormone-addled cunt, her life had simply lacked any sort of distraction cumbersome enough to affect her attention.

Being subjected to repeated instances of deep, gut-rending, and obscenely perverse sexual intercourse with Yuuta was very distracting. Both during and after the act, her thoughts were drawn into an abyss of desire for which there existed only one escape: unconsciousness.

Yuuta's energy and 'affection' typically ensured that she lost consciousness soon after any one of his requests for satiation. During every second of every hour of every day outside of these instances, she was on her own. Dogged by shameful thoughts of sweaty sex with her son and nagged by the internal 'itch' sewn into her womb by the compounds that changed her frame, it was not until after Yuuta dumped his first load of semen into her womb that the concentration she had once prided herself in escaped her.

This was not to say that her functionality became entirely slipshod, however. Angela Ziegler knew nothing of detrimental inefficiency, and no matter how sex-addled she became, the core of her being refused to allow her to learn. Even as the amount of single-minded dedication she invested into her daily activities decreased, her ability to actually complete these activities went unchanged.

Displaying such efficiency under constant duress required that Mercy pay a toll. Her ‘paying’ at all was more of an imagined contrivance meant to preserve the image of motherhood she had constructed for herself, but it remained apparent that something was taken from her each and every time she attempted to apply herself to something that was not directly related to helping Yuuta work copious amounts of semen out of his balls.

The most common of these ‘unrelated’ activities was cooking. As had been the case long before her physical transformation, she derived a great deal of validation from experimenting with different meal choices for her son. Keeping him healthy had become more important than ever, but this in itself did not strike her as an excuse to become lazy. Within her heart of hearts, she viewed it as an opportunity to become more creative—to widen her son’s palate as far as possible and ingrain ‘healthy’ choices into him before he became old enough to decide on his diet himself.

It was by virtue of this viewpoint alone that Mercy had rooted herself in front of her kitchen stove for the preparation of yet another nutritious, extra special Wednesday morning breakfast for Yuuta. Mildly fatigued from another night (and early morning) spent playing the part of Yuuta’s cocksleeve—a role pinned to her chest weeks prior—the crack of dawn nevertheless magnetized her out of bed and into the kitchen.
Shower or no shower, wobbly knees or sturdy, semen-clogged intestines or no—routine was routine. Especially if her reward for keeping to it was a smiling Yuuta.

Denying herself the opportunity to remain by his side until his next attempt at impregnating her, she instead slipped silently from his side, wobbled into the kitchen, and collected ingredients required for an extravagant twist on one of Yuuta’s favourite pancake breakfasts. Substituting cream-spread for fresh fruit and mixing in raisins and nuts alongside the chocolate chips added to the batter, she quietly infused the meal’s basics with choices that she believed to be healthier for him.

All of this Mercy did whilst a dishevelled and painfully aroused husk of her usual self. Dressed in a sweat-drenched, oversized white t-shirt and the once-taut night shorts purchased as a modest and breathable addition to her summer-sleep wear, her appearance within the kitchen for once matched that of a happily over-worked mother.

As a consequence of the ‘pressure’ exerted on its fabric from both sides of Mercy’s lower body, the leg-holes of her shorts were shortened and inwardly contracted to match the thigh-accentuating bite of a pair of short-shorts. The porcelain fat healthily mounted to her buttocks was much too excessive to be obscured by such a garment. Consequentially, its appearance from behind Mercy’s frame more closely mirrored a pair of flexible, greyish-white panties surrounded on either side by pale and perky beach balls of assflesh.

The shirt that Mercy had chosen was selected specifically to counteract the presentation of her lower half. The scope of her ass and the curvature of her midsection and hips could still be seen plainly from underneath the thigh-length shirt, but so far as she was concerned, she was covered.

As she worked by the oven, two separate trails of the dense sexual lubricant produced by her folds could be found traveling in a slow and steady stream across the span of her inner thighs.

Mercy's standing posture and visage suggested a degree of acclimation or indifference towards the fluid leaking from her womanhood. In truth, though, these gooey streams and the sex-swelled mound of cuntmeat from which they flowed were the only things that Mercy could think about whilst cooking.

She 'needed' to be fucked. Cooking for Yuuta was what she wanted, but what she needed was her child's oversized cock inside of her yet-unseeded womb.

Despite the clear divide between the aims of her mind and body, motherhood supposedly remained Mercy's primary 'function' at the stove, and would remain as such until Yuuta demanded otherwise.

Unsurprisingly, Mercy did not truly believe as much.

"I'm really not doing so well at the moment, am I?" she thought to herself, eyes drowsily centred on a skillet loaded with golden pancakes. “I can't have been standing here for more than half an hour, but I already feel awful. Am I really so dependent on him that I can't spend an hour by myself trying to do something nice for him?"

This thought prompted Mercy to shake her head. Cooking was only one of numerous activities that had become difficult for her after learning exactly how good it felt to be used by the child that she loved. Her interest in the activity (cooking) and the wholesomeness of her intent were irrelevant; if she wasn’t close to Yuuta, her body was assured to be unhappy.

"...No, that's not it. Everything is like this now." smiling wryly to herself, she guided the spatula gripped by her left hand through a seamless flip of each of the pancakes below her. "Yuuta's right there in the living room; he's not very far away at all. Like usual, I'd just rather be where he is than anywhere else..."

Unlike the Mercy of months prior, brazenly reciting the truth to herself did not move the blonde into a stint of self-loathing. Now well aware of the nature of her affections and their abject perversion, 'sorting out' the cause for her niggling arousal actually brought a smile to her face.

"I guess it's not the worst thing in the world, though." releasing a derisive giggle, some of the sleepiness pasted to Mercy's features was erased by a sudden injection of warmth. "As long as I do my best not to spoil him with it, what I'm giving him doesn't really matter much, does it? Of course I can't tell Yuyu that, but none of this would have happened if he didn't actually need it."

“Maybe I can’t balance out what he actually wants, but maybe I can—♥♥!?”

Amidst her ruminations, Mercy felt herself touched. Suddenly beset by the sensation of a pair of palms sinking up into the fat and flesh set where her buttocks ended and her thighs began, the cutely-astonished yelp that she produced was swiftly followed by a far more severe set of reactions. While her features regained the remainder of their missing color and her spine returned to its usual straightness, the feeling of these warm, slender hands pressing into the all-too-sensitive crease swiftly saw her legs inverted towards one another.

Once rendered pidgeon-toed, the orifice between her thighs erupted. Via well-placed physical contact alone, a sound orgasm rippled from the core of her womb straight down through to her outer lips.

Accompanying it every step of the way was a viscous geyser of fresh cunt-syrup only slightly stifled by the short-shorts plastered to her cunt’s exterior. In spite of its presence, both the front face of the oven ahead of her and the tiled flooring behind her received a generous dousing with the clear slime that so-often bled from her inner walls.

Finally accustomed to ‘surprises’ such as this, Mercy deftly sidestepped the physiological stupor that sometimes accompanied her releases. A handful of seconds biting into the corner of her lower lip in absolute bliss was all the catharsis that she required before turning to address the tiny individual responsible for her release.

“H-Hey there, Y-Yuyu…” voice mildly strained by the stresses of a standing orgasm, Mercy still managed to address her son without a hint of animosity.

There was a reason that he had smothered his hands against such sensitive creases of flesh—she simply didn’t know it yet.

“I suppose you must b-be really excited for breakfast t-today, huh? I-Is that why you decided to come and give Mommy such a…ah… ‘special’ hug?” she asked.

Every bit of Mercy save her conscious mind knew for certain that Yuuta’s ‘hug’ was anything but a hug. Past this, these parts of her understood that the intent behind his hug was sexual. Her sensitiveness to particular types of physical contact had only become worse since her transition and Yuuta was to blame for it.

Despite everything that she had endured, she could not bring herself to frame her son’s actions negatively. If perverse and orgasm-inducing, his actions could never be bad—only mildly mischievous.

The permissive attachment that she clung to with regard to her son’s behavior was not without some merit…

Even now.

As children were sometimes wont to, Yuuta had become bored with his usual set of morning time cartoons. Their content was as new and enthralling as a child could ask for, but for him, something of even greater interest laid in wait for him within the kitchen.

Initially, he had opted to wait for it to come to him. His first thought after waking up to a bed that did not contain his mother was far more impulsive and sexual, but after finding her within the kitchen, his drowsy mind made a compromise with his unwashed and freshly-loaded erection. His desire for her could be satiated alongside his hunger, so stepping in on his mother whilst on the job did not strike him as necessary. She was unlikely to complain in either case, but being patient was sometimes a virtue.

After a half hour of television content, Yuuta regained enough consciousness to recall that there was virtually nothing that his loving parent would do for him…provided he approached it correctly.

As such, he selected an approach and applied it. Sneaking into the kitchen whilst Mercy worked, he opted to satiate his desire for Mercy’s body with his hands to avoid drawing too much ire from her.

This selection paid dividends. With a tilt of his head and an endearing smile, Yuuta managed to rebuff his mother's concern with the same kind of affable, childish indifference that he presented during the most obscene of their interactions.

"Nope! I knew you'd be finished sooner or later--I just wanted to try and do something for you before you did!" Yuuta chirped. "I sometimes forget that certain stuff is a lot tougher for you now that you're all big, so before we eat, I'm gonna try to make it up to you, okay?"

At this, astonishment popped across Mercy's rosy features.

"O-Oh, how sweet..." she exhaled, tone betwixt between appreciation and exasperation. “What did you have in mind, Yuyu? You know I don't like it when you exert yourself too much, so if it's something like—

"It's a massage!” interjecting smoothly, Yuuta paused for just a moment to allow his mother to catch up with the conversation. “I saw on the internet that standing up and doin' stuff for a bunch of hours can be really painful and that massages help with ‘em!"

“I dunno if I’ll be any good at giving them, but it never hurts to try, right? You always do your best to do stuff for me, after all!”

As soon as Yuuta finished with his explanation, Mercy's mind processed its contents, and then reworded his claim to better reflect what she believed the boy's actual intention to be.

"Which means that what he actually wants to do is get off before breakfast is even finished. I don't know how touching me like this has anything to do with pleasure for him, but it wouldn't be the first time that something he enjoyed ended up surprising me." Mercy thought to herself.

"That's healthy....I think. He's usually much more active in the morning, so sitting around for a change probably just made him feel restless..."

"Which means that helping him out is okay. Totally forgivable and 100% ok."

Through with the first of her numerous daily waffling sessions, Mercy nodded, more so to herself than her son.

“…Sure, sweetie. I’d love a massage.” speaking earnestly, Mercy provided her son with the only thing that he actually needed from her. “It’s okay if you don’t know how to do it just...maybe don’t press so hard if you can’t do it?”

Given the go-ahead, Yuuta went right to work following the directions mapped out by his instincts. Utterly remorseless in his approach, he dug the face of his palms even deeper into the tender pockets of flesh they had consumed. Deaf to the prolonged squeak that his touch wrenched from Mercy’s throat and indifferent to the trembling hip wiggle that came afterwards, he subsequently pushed both limbs downwards across the underside of her thighs whilst keeping the placement of his hands angled to the limb-section’s outer fringes as he went.

Expectedly, the motions that he produced were far too deft to belong to a normal child. Successfully maintaining the tissue-deep pressure he had mustered from the peak of her thigh right down to the taut crease between Mercy’s thigh and calf, his touch seemed to be that of an expert.

An expert with regard to the countless pleasure points generated within Mercy’s body by drugs, but an expert no less.

Upon reaching the end of Mercy’s thighs, Yuuta’s hands smoothly trailed back up the way they had come. Squishing tissue knotted by stress or otherwise vulnerable to stimulation, he hurriedly replaced the face of his palms at their buttock’s smothered ‘cupping’ against the ends to Mercy’s thighs.

It was at this point that the boy gave up entirely. Having bucked up against the limits of his boyish subterfuge, he abruptly pressed his palms several inches upward into a satisfying squish into the jiggling meat that comprised Mercy’s buttocks. Throughout, he pushed the placement of his palms outwards such that their spans were submerged into the pale meat that her curtailed shorts failed to cover. Grasp no less taut for the transition, he imposed himself until his efforts threatened to see his hands swallowed by the massive, doughy bubbles right up to his wrist.

Here, his massage began anew. First spreading his fingers apart from one another in mimicry of a shining sun, he next encapsulated as much of the heated marble stacked to Mercy’s rear as possible and began rotating his wrists.

“Yup, this’ll do! She was a little on the pouty side last night, but there’s no better cure for that than a present!” he thought to himself. “I probably should’ve just kept her in bed to begin with, but this isn’t too bad either: Mommy’s tummy gets filled and I get to play around with her butt!”

However juvenile in his thinking, Yuuta was enjoying himself very ‘maturely’. Since planting his palms into Mercy’s rear, the coiled flesh-pipe at his crotch had taken several long, healthy strides towards its blood-engorged peak.

As if mentally tied to the bloated erection, Mercy appeared to be enjoying her son’s efforts as well.

Visually speaking, every second that Yuuta kept his hands swirling and squeezing around the flesh of her ass was a second that she spent in utter bliss. Hips wiggling and uncorked cunt leaking continually, the short-lived kneading of her thighs fed a numbing warmth from the spots she had been touched right into her womb.
Yet again, Yuuta had made a mile of the ‘inch’ that she had given him.

Or perhaps she had given him a mile to begin with? In either case, the orgasmic stimulation rippling through her core demanded verbal address.

“A-Ahh, Y-Yuyu, s-sweetie.” Mercy began, front still facing the stove top ahead of her. “R-Remember what I s-said abo---F-FUCK Y-YES♥!—um, b-being g-gentle~?”

Yuuta had heard Mercy's voice. He couldn't be bothered to abide by her requests, but each one that she placed remained as evident to him as the last.

Apparently, Mercy was not yet at a point where she could silently allow him to have his way. If by word of mouth only, she continued to present herself as the same woman who had taken considerable issue with sharing too long a kiss with him.

This knowledge made Yuuta smile. The current version of his mother was by far the best (in his opinion), but the persistence of her motherly qualities in spite of the perversion of her frame ensured that the superiority of this 'version' remained no less endearing than the petite, over-protective blonde that had nursed him through his time as a hospital in-patient.

Based on this, Yuuta decided to bring the kneading of his palms to an abrupt halt. Maintaining the squish of his palms into Mercy's rear, he turned his gaze up towards the older woman to bare his teeth in a youthful smile.

"Ahaha! I guess you're more sensitive than you thought, Mommy." he teased. "I'll try to be gentler, but I really don't think I'm doing it that hard, either. Maybe it's that the muscles inside your butt are really stiff and tired?"

Were it a professional massage therapist she was speaking to, Mercy would have confirmed Yuuta's suspicions with a vehement nod. To begin with, it was Yuuta's spirited battering of her holes and her own depraved hunger for his cock that had mashed the meat of her ass into its current state.

For several embarrassment-related reasons, stating as much to Yuuta was not an option in Mercy's mind. Instead, a quiet "M-Maybe..." trickled from her lips as preceded and followed by a pair of nervous giggles.

Blindingly bright for his meagre years (especially where his mother's feelings were concerned), Yuuta took Mercy's response to mean that his assumption was correct.

So as the youth grasped the information, a 'fun and effective' solution for the ailment popped into his brain. Swiftly releasing Mercy's buttocks from their deep tissue massage, he stepped around her frame, and reached up with both of his hands to take hold of Mercy's left wrist. Smoothly surmounting the difference in their heights, he calmly peeled her from her wobbly plant ahead of the oven through a slow and steady stride into to the back half the kitchen.

Awaiting them at the end of the trip was a chair. One of four wooden fixtures belonging to the distinctly European dining table set nostalgically purchased by Mercy, the chair sat conveniently drawn from under the circular fixture as if begging to be sat upon.

Acting whilst Mercy remained agreeable, Yuuta gently coaxed the woman's massive frame down into a comfortable seated position atop the chair. When certain that the span of her backside could still be contained by the sturdy seat’s width, he used his position ahead of her to begin on a hurried and scramble-y ascent up into her lap. Gripping with his hands and pushing with his feet, his scaling efforts delivered his feet sole-first against span of Mercy’s thighs, and for once, drew his chest level with the sweaty, double-wide pillows hanging from her chest.

Now face to face with his mother, he assured her with a nod.

“If that feels too good, how about we try a different kind of massage?”

Pretense stated, Yuuta plunged his hands forward into contact with Mercy’s breasts. Tiny limbs immediately rebuffed by the moistened, t-shirt-gloved pillows, a second’s worth of contact was all it took for his fingers to become indistinguishable from the sweat-dampened fabric draped over her mounds.

Unsurprisingly, the redirection of Yuuta’s efforts did not make for a more ‘tolerable’ experience for Mercy. Soothed and starry-eyed whilst led around by her son, the respite that had numbed her senses disappeared when his hands were placed into contact with her breasts. Soon, his palms were further compressed into the inverted bulk of her nipples, and his fingers set about a vigorous mash and grind about the flesh surrounding them.

Compared to the maddening bliss that he had palmed into her thighs, the sensations that these motions wrought were better.

So much so that Mercy could not help but acknowledge as much herself.

“Ohmigod, w-why is my body like this? W-Why does feeling Yuyu’s hands d-dig into my breasts like this f-feel so amazing?” she mewled internally, mouth and throat bruised by the production of pleasured mewls and strained groans. “W-We’ve done so much worse, h-haven’t we? Yuyu’s used my body for so much worse, but just having his cute little hands squeeze my breasts is making me squirt…♥”

Amidst her internal awe flashed the occasional pang of guilt. Curtailed and inconsequential relative to the stiffening parental pride of her past, what she felt as her milk-laden breasts were worked over was much more akin to a mild form of self-disappointment.

Despite calling herself Yuuta’s mother and going to such obscene lengths to keep him happy, it was now Yuuta that was finding new and inventive ways to make motherhood especially enjoyable for her.

As a woman, she couldn’t be happier. As a mother, however, she could not help but feel like a spoiled child spiraling towards incurable degeneracy.

“…W-Would concentrating do me any good at this point? I left Yuyu’s breakfast on the stove without even thinking about it, so it’s probably too late for that…” she thought. “H-He’s supposed to be making my body feel better, but I just can’t stop myself from cumming ♥. I’m really not a normal mother any more, am I?”

“I-I know! I’ll just try asking Yuyu to be a little gentler again. He should k-know what I mean this time, right?”

Given ample reason to believe that words alone would not be enough to saw the boy, Mercy turned her gaze down toward Yuuta’s face in preparation for her plea.

Doing so proved more detrimental than helpful. Just as soon as her attentions were pushed back in his direction, his were reoriented up towards her own.

As it turned out, Yuuta had prepared for this eventuality as well. Before Mercy could verbalize her intended suggestion, he popped up onto his tiptoes, and dipped his skull forward to plant a kiss against her lips.

This was no ordinary peck, either. This was an 'adult' kiss; one of the many that he had begun imposing on her without permission since her alteration. Undaunted by the differing spans of their lips, he flattened the thin pillows at his mouth against the endearing squishiness of her lips, and subsequently wormed his tongue out into a quiet invasion of her oral cavity.

Rare as it was for Yuuta's sexual behavior to shock his mother—more so considering how commonplace this behavior had become—his sudden kiss took the older blonde aback.

So far back, in fact, that she began to wonder whether or not she'd ever return to the position of mental 'rightness' she had achieved prior to it.

The avid squirming of Yuuta's child-sized tongue against the back of her throat made everything about her experience that much more real. Induced by the invasive sensation was a swelling of her warmed, palm-smothered nipples into a state of creamy leakage, and as a consequence, a 'blooming' of the nipple flesh packed behind her areola out against the cleavage section of her t-shirt.

This happening availed two of the most sensitive bundles of flesh on her body to the oppressive kneading of Yuuta's wrists. No sooner did the tips of both fattened cylinders push out against his palm did he slide his grasp backwards and effortlessly consume their girth into a taut, full-on squeeze.

With this, Mercy became unwilling to argue that she was in fact being 'massaged' by her son. Tongue writhing against his own, lips suckling to his face, and leaking nipples blurting milk against his palms through every duct at their disposal, she quickly became of the opinion that it was far more accurate to claim that she was being milked.

She did not intend to state as much--not now. Being dominated by Yuuta was of far more importance than correcting his definition of a massage.

This could be done another time...

Perhaps after his kiss coaxed another guilty orgasm from between her legs.

In preparation for this happening, Mercy sat back and allowed his ministrations to escalate unrestricted.

Like a child taken up with a new toy, Yuuta’s ‘milking’ of her nipples became more dexterous with the passage of time. Seconds into his garrotting their lengthy bulk, he depressed the placement of his hands to root point at which nipple flesh bled back into her areola. Here, he held his hands motionless for several seconds to stifle the outflow of milk from each cylinder, thereby swelling them with a trying volume of the sweetly-scented cream.

Impressively in tune with his mother’s body, his hands did not ascend from their restrictive positions until the swelling of Mercy’s breasts arrived at the threshold between pleasure and pain. With this, he dug the undersides of his thumbs down against the nipple flesh beneath them and painstakingly spiked his grasps up to the peaks of her nipples. Indifferent to the splatter of milk that gushed through the soaked fabric underneath his hands, he completed the masturbatory stroke with the beginning of another grinding plunge back down to the roots of her nipples.

Just tracking the breakneck strokes that the boy produced from beginning to end was enough to send comparatively massive spurts of cunt-juice jetting from out of Mercy’s crotch at regular and prolonged intervals. Their release drew her legs further apart—a biological reflex produced in hopes that the male nearby might decide to impregnate her—and later began to funnel a myriad of needy moans from the back of her throat into Yuuta’s mouth.

Guilt or no, minutes of enduring Yuuta’s efforts had shifted Mercy’s opinion on his behaviour.

Perhaps this was a massage. Perhaps she had spent her entire life up until this point mistaken as to the kind of relief and pleasure that a real massage could offer?

Tragically, Mercy arrived at this revelation far too late. Like any other easily distracted child, the continual refinement of Yuuta’s massage eventually left him as bored with the process altogether. Furthermore, the gesture had been intended as a preparative gift; forcing his mother to cum herself into a state of non-function before the day’s real fun was non-sensical.

Thus, Yuuta released her. Unclasping her breasts without a care in the world, he spent several seconds unhooking his tongue from her own before a moist *PAPPH* freed the spittle-smeared lower half of his face from her own.

“Oh yeah!” Yuuta chirped. “The pancakes are getting cold, huh? I wanna eat ‘em!”

This time, it was Mercy who was rendered indifferent. Twitching and hiccupping in complete euphoria, her response to Yuuta’s suggestion was an exhausted collapse into the chair frame behind her and a quiet fit of intoxicated, utterly unintelligble moaning.
-

ENJOY THE DAY

Contrary to the implications of the day’s beginning, Yuuta had not awoken with any specific plans for what his next day at home with Mercy ought to contain. Repeated sexual satiation for himself was a given, but how and when this satiation would be acquired was no longer a subject that required much rumination or planning from him.

So long as Mercy remained nearby—and she would—release for him was an inevitability. Not once, but as many times as was required for him to actually feel satisfied.

The ease of access that the boy had gained from fucking his mother senseless for weeks on end prompted him to do precisely nothing after the delivery of his surprise massage. He instead collected his breakfast on his own, and went out of his way to persist in the kitchen while Mercy caught her breath. In this time, he made no attempts at accelerating the process; the taste of surprise pancakes was enough to make even the tasks of standing, chewing, and waiting seem exciting.

Eventually, when Mercy found herself to be in a ‘standing’ mood, the living room was the destination that he set for the two of them. The weekday morning cartoons that he enjoyed hadn’t been so enjoyable whilst by himself, but with Mercy, a certain amount of satisfaction was guaranteed.

Mercy did not think twice about joining her son in the consumption of children's cartoons.

The ever present 'danger' of sexual intercourse that accompanied her doing so was no longer a danger to her, but a desirable and expected consequence of her adherence to the norm between them. For months, Yuuta had not gone a day without fucking at least one of her holes into a state of semen-greased rawness.

Breaking from such a trend hardly seemed necessary. His massage had left her frame in desperate need of one such fucking, and though she did not intend to try and make use of her son's cock by force, breaking away from his side and doing something else would only prolong her wallowing within the state he had imposed.

Thus, she sat. Dizzy, heated, and inexplicably content despite the drooling need established between her legs, she took up a position beside her son atop the living room couch and devoted what little of her focus remained applicable to the goings-on of a familiar children's cartoon. All the while, a blissful teeter-tottering of her skull indicative of her struggle to remain conscious threatened to replace her meagre attendance with slumber at a moment's notice.

She never quite lost consciousness, however.

She was with Yuuta, after all.

"I just want to get HIGH, Brock(tm)! Why is that so wrong all of a sudden?" a dark-haired youth exclaimed. "You're the one who got me started on this shit, man! Stop being a bitch and lets go cop some yayo(1), nigga."

In response to these words, the tanned male crossed his arms at his chest and shook his head.

"Maybe I did, Ash, but that was then. The drugs are fucking up your brain. I knew you were mentally special when we met, but you're just on some different shit everyday now." he replied. "If I'm going to use, and I am going to use, I will. I'm not doing it with you, though—not until you get clean."
Incredulous, the youth named Ash took a step inward. Imposing his slighter frame towards his larger companion, he tipped his tightened facial features up towards him to ensure that the combativeness of his intent wasn't misconstrued.
__
1. Cocaine
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"You heard me. Give your badge case, Ash."

"You think you can do me like this, bitch? After everything I've done for you?"

"I SAID GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING BADGE CASE, ASH! DON'T MAKE ME FUCK YOU UP RIGHT HERE, NIGGA!"

Half listening and half not, the show's contents eventually stirred a mild frown across Mercy's sweat-moistened visage.

"Goodness, this show sure seems different from how I remember it.” she thought to herself. "Maybe I should start paying a little bit more attention to what Yuyu watches during the day. Trying to keep track of his phone is just impossible, but I have to at least try to keep him from watching stuff that's inappropriate..."

Coincidentally, Mercy's thoughts about her son drew her gaze down towards him. Apparently enamoured with the show he had chosen, she found within his eyes a reason to doubt the entirely reasonable conclusion she had come to.

"M-Maybe I'll just ask him first. He really seems to like it, so I wouldn't want to make him sad." she thought.

"But then again..."

At a moment's notice, Mercy felt her head become several ounces lighter. In time with this, the descent of an object flashed within the corner of her eye down towards her left shoulder. Eventually squishing into contact with the region and tumbling down the length of her arm, her numbed reflexes dumped her line of sight past her waist to determine what it was had fallen.

Before she could invest any effort into the task, the object's descent came to an end. Suddenly squished and stabilized within a hand much too small to contain it, its identity swiftly replaced Mercy’s haziness with a burning embarrassment.

“Whoa! That was close!” Yuuta chirped. “Are you feeling sleepy, Mommy? All of your stuff is falling out!”

The ‘stuff’ to which the boy referred was none other than the massively-swollen condom partly-clutched and partly-overflowing within his right palm. One of a scarce few that were not ruptured by the volume of Yuuta’s orgasms the night before, the pale-pink contraceptive sat as a wobbly, softball-sized reminder as to baseline volume of semen that Mercy had to look forward to each time she made Yuuta release.

Forgotten by Mercy and Yuuta alike, the bloated balloon had previously bobbed at the root of the up-set blonde pony-tail that Mercy had tied her hair up into. Likely placed to allow for easy disposal* (digestion) by Mercy at a later date, its slippage into Yuuta’s hand immediately reminded Mercy of how many of the items she had secretly consumed.

Per usual, this habit was no secret to Yuuta. From the moment he caught the squishy sac to the instant Mercy’s hands snatched it into an impressive compression over the neck of her t-shirt and between her breasts, a knowing grin could be seen mapped to the lower half of his face.

Of course, he did not utter a word about the sac whilst holding it. By allowing his mother to stew in her own embarrassment, a much more interesting line of conversation was brought about by Mercy herself.

“N-N-Nope! Not sleepy at all!” Mercy squeaked. “I just, ah…must’ve f-forgotten that one. T-Thank you for catching it before it f-fell, sweetie. A-Ahah, t-there are so many that I sometimes lose track of them these days, you know?”

To this, Yuuta shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, it’s ok if you are. I know that cartoons are kind of boring for adults; I’m just happy that you wanna sit with me anyway!” he replied.

Embarrassment soothed—if only momentarily—Mercy nodded her head in affirmation of what she believed was already obvious.

“Of course, sweetie. Being able to sit with you and do nice, normal things like this is—”

“But hey…”

Suddenly, both of Yuuta’s hands jumped from his sides up into a firm smother of his pants’ waistline. Here, he deftly fished fingers underneath the elastic rim from above, and afterwards dragged the garment down through yet another revealing slide past his knees.

Mercy did not know what hit her. Mesmerized from the beginning of the garment’s slide to its dumping off of Yuuta’s ankles, she stared in complete silence as the semi-erect log of unwashed cock perfectly bunched up at Yuuta’s crotch was peeled out into a heart-fluttering flop along his inner thighs.

It smelled of it, too—of the last time Yuuta had fucked her insides into a warm, semen-swelled mess.

“Want me to help you stay awake while I watch?” he suggested. “It seemed like you really needed something in the kitchen, but now that we’re here, I can help you and have fun myself at the same time!”

Abruptly reenergized by the boy’s offer, Mercy flung herself to the ground without another word from him. Propping herself upright on her knees, she assumed a position directly opposite the underside of his growing erection before bracing her palms atop his thighs, and her breasts against his knees. After making certain that her weight was focused more so towards her core than onto Yuuta’s legs, she dipped her upper body forwards and downwards until her lips arrived at a position inches short of a kiss with the semen-scented crown of Yuuta’s cock.

Internally, Mercy validated this sudden plunge not with the sordid hunger pangs she felt for her little boy’s semen, but as a pre-requisite for Yuuta to continue watching television unobstructed.

Mercy knew the truth; acknowledging it was no longer important.

“…That’s very polite of you, Yuyu.” she began, smiling. “Now, I normally wouldn’t advocate for doing anything like that so early in the day, but i-if you’re not going to be too rough, I’d love it if you’d give me a hand with that.”

Visibly content with his mother’s decision, Yuuta was very quick to impose his proposition. Hands shooting upward to cup either side of her skull and thread fingers through her blonde hair, he continued smiling as though nothing at all about his suggested activity was indecent.

Of the positions that he had held throughout the day thus far, his stint in this one was the shortest. At a moment’s notice, his grasp on Mercy’s skull became a vice, and his arms a pair of wrenches that plunged the older woman’s set lips onto the tip of his cock. As soon as his glans slipped past the plump pillows, he applied even more force to the gesture to draw her throat, and soon enough, her esophagus into the task of enveloping his shaft.

And with that, sitting and watching cartoons with his mother became infinitely more entertaining…

-

DOING AND NOT THINKING

Though there existed a fair few things that Mercy missed about being a 'normal' woman, her gag-reflex was not one of them. Before her transformation and the sexual domestication that followed, it was rare that the reflex played any sort of part in how she lived her daily life. Really, the life that she had led was so careful and celibate that she often forgot that she even had one.

Presently, she was relieved to be without it. Thanks to its absence, the worn pleasure receptors threaded into the back of her throat and littered throughout her esophagus were ignited without interference from her frame. No retching stifled the spread of a warm, gut-straining elation from the beginnings of her esophagus near-to the entrance way into her stomach, and no reflexive convulsions addled the descent of Yuuta's cock into the makeshift fuckhole’s confines. The moment Yuuta took hold of her skull, her face was penetrated as smoothly and deeply as her pussy or asshole would've been--all thanks to the erasure of any sort of normalcy within her warped G.I tract.

Thanks to this, what she experienced following Yuuta's brusque skewering of her lips was limited to the arousing stimulation that he had promised as reward for her companionship. When the initial hilt of his cock down her throat came to an end, the bloating of her neck with an unruly loaf of phallus meat and the muzzling of her nostrils into a crotch as smooth as it was musky was reversed. Quite hurried for a youth whose focus remained on the T.V screen ahead of him, Yuuta wrenched her skull back upwards, and forced her gullet to scale the spire of rigid veins and oppressive cock-flesh that extended up from his crotch. Such was the speed and force that he put forth that Mercy found her lips spread and suckling to the midsection of his glans within a second or so of being wrenched.

And then she was plunged back downward. To the tune of a throaty *GLORP* manufactured by the compression of cockmeat through a tube of moist, mucus-glazed flesh, Yuuta's cock resumed its oppressive fattening of her mouth-cunt while her lips were floored back down into contact with the crotch surface at its root.

Still were Yuuta's eyes glued to the television, and still did he manipulate her skull with the abandon of bull with his member buried inside of the fertile cunt of a sow.

"He's still being rough even after I specifically asked him not to. Yuyu, whatever am I going to do with you... ♥" Mercy thought to herself. "I'm going to be a complete mess before long~! He can't have forgotten about that, so I suppose making a mess out of me was another part of his offer."

Moved by her 'discontentment' and the airy head-rush that came with her facefucking, Mercy slid her gaze up from the boy's crotch for a moment to ascertain if any remorse had appeared on Yuuta's face.

Comically, the fact that nothing had changed injected satisfaction into her cock-skewered features instead of disappointment.

“Pre-occupied as ever..." she exhaled. "It's alright, I suppose. I'll just try and remind him about it next time."

Unbeknownst to Mercy—or perhaps quietly understood by her—Yuuta was very aware of what his hand motions were doing to his mother's throat and face.

Since their beginnings a minute prior, the flicking of his wrists and the plunging of his arms had rendered his mother's mouth as a sputtering orifice for his cock. Each time he plunged her downward, the veins coiled around his cock teased the smooth muscle of his mother's gullet into the discharge of a dense, syrup-like spittle. Caked atop every inch of throatmeat his member passed through, the substance's build up within her esophagus was in part responsible for the wetness of the *GRLPS* induced by her throat's penetration.

Upon drawing Mercy's skull outwards and peeling her facehole's flesh out of contact with his member, the sludge mounted to its surface played also played a part in keeping her innards ready and waiting for Yuuta's cock. Finally, when his hands plunged her into one of her many sloppy ‘kisses’ with his crotch, the sudden re-addition of his mast to her innards displaced her mouth’s cunt-juice by way of heavy, smothered splatters from both her lips and nostrils.

Several minutes of cycling through these processes from beginning to end had made quite the mess of Mercy's features. Not only was a heated and precum-infused substance fucked from her face’s holes at a consistent pace, but the end of any one of these cycles saw her face planted into the growing patch-work of splatters and smears spread across his crotch.

Similar conditions were wrought inside her as well. Though Yuuta could not see the state of his mother's esophagus and sinuses, the gooey warmth that enveloped his cock each time he depressed his foot against the back of her head told him a great deal about what his cock was doing to her insides. Each dunk of Mercy’s skull prompted him to picture the inside of her throat as a sleeve of congealed fuckmeat swelled by irritation and riddled with languid canopies of throatslop. Repeatedly reformatted by the elevation and descent of her skull, the only constants within the tube were his cock and the quivering, slop-smeared flesh that surrounded it.

With images such as these rolling in and out of focus within his mind, there was really no need to devote much attention to his mother—especially if one considered the mounting intrigue of his ‘cartoon’s’ plotline.

This did not stop Yuuta from eventually dropping his chin to ‘check-in’ with his mother, of course. Choosing the first commercial break to appear in minutes as his opportunity, he effortlessly bent the interest he had directed at the television screen right back down to his mother’s sex-smeared features.

He even went out of his way to promote eye-contact between them. In time with the descent of his gaze, his tiny hands floored Mercy’s lips into another slop-caked kiss with his crotch. Subsequently, his pumping of her skull was replaced with a gentle rotation of her cock-skewered head around the narrow width of his crotch’s root.

Like this, his cock was subjected to a titillating grind of throatmeat around its circumference whilst Mercy obtained an almost-stable position from which to meet his gaze.

As far as Yuuta was concerned, this was a win-win.

“So, feeling more awake, Mommy?” he inquired happily. “The inside of your mouth seems pretty awake at least! That’s probably just ‘cause you really like having your face stuffed like this, though…”

“Oh, that’s right. You can’t talk right now, huh? Hmm…”

Taking to silence, Yuuta continued wiggling Mercy’s skull back and forth until a suitable solution popped into his head.

“I know! Instead of talking, you can give me a victory sign for yes, or a thumbs down for no. Just like on the show!” he suggested.

Mercy couldn’t (and wouldn’t) argue with the boy’s deduction. The feeling of his cock swirling around her throat was too pleasant, and as well, he wasn’t exactly incorrect.

Thus, her oxygen-deprived mind complied. Smiling with her eyes as best as possible, she raised her left hand off of the youth’s thigh and held it up at a shaky angle at the left side of her face.

She did feel more awake, after all—albeit not conventionally.

The sign itself was all that Yuuta really wanted to see. The moment the image of her producing it was captured by his brain, Yuuta went right back to enjoying himself. First leaning further back into the welcoming embrace of the living room couch, he afterwards raised his right leg off of the ground and up into a suggestive curl around the back of Mercy’s head. Leveraging the obtuse angle set between his upper and lower body, he dumped the crease between his thigh and calf across the back of her skull whilst simultaneously pushing her crotch-planted lips back up to the midpoint of his shaft. Once satisfied with the extent of her retraction, he tightened the lock made from his leg, and suspended his mother as a strung up cocksleeve.

Stunned, Mercy could only follow along. Being used by Yuuta was nothing new to her, but his current level of dexterity and indifference was unmarked territory for her.

Not new enough for her to consider pulling the rest of the way off his shaft…but new enough.

“Cool! If it’s working, let’s see if we can charge you up for the rest of the day!” Yuuta suggested. “The show’s almost done, so I’ll go as quickly as I can and we’ll see if I can beat it to the end, ‘kay?”

True to his word, Yuuta continued ‘waking’ his mother as briskly and aggressively as he could. Finally did he engage his hips, crotch, and legs into the penetration of her mouth-cunt, and finally did he begin on a legitimate stride towards his first orgasm for the day.

Compared to his masturbation with Mercy's face, the fucking effort that he produced was by far the more slovenly activity.

If slight and small, the span of his leg and the control that it exerted kept Mercy's skull (and the rest of her torso by proxy) locked at a position half-way impaled by his member. Whilst maintaining this hold, Yuuta took to vigorously hooking his lower body upwards and downwards to see the remaining half of his cock (well over 10 inches if one were to make a visual estimate) messily skewered in and out of ball's deep penetration of Mercy's esophagus.

These injections were every bit as pleasurable as the skull-stuffing he had managed with his hands, but far more visceral in that each one ended with a distinct punch of his slop-muddied glans down against the flooring of Mercy's esophagus. Relative to the straight-through tract-stroking granted by his previous ministrations, this sensation contributed far more cock-juice to the reservoir swelling at his member's root. As well, these stabs saw a much more significant discharge of slop burst from Mercy's face per thrust that he delivered.

The 'view' birthed by these ministrations was more obscene as well. If and when he peered downward—which he often did where the churning of his mother's throat was concerned—Yuuta was greeted by a rousingly-unique configuration of his mother's features. If her cheeks were not fattened by the presence of his cock within her throat and the sandwiching of her lips against the battered mess at his crotch, her lips were stretched outwards along the meat of his cock in a perverse, tube-like attempt at holding to its writhing inches. In either case, her reddened eyes sat adorned by varied smears and plasters comprised of oral-cunt-juice whilst the remainder of her facial features sat organized to express a mix of mild paternal embarrassment and pleasure.

As a result of these two qualities and the sweaty, sexual high that accompanied them, Yuuta felt largely 'onboard' with the idea that his goring of his mother's lips had become better. Taking them in had seen the countdown to his eruption accelerated, and as far as he could tell, had swelled its size as well.

He was not quite willing to describe it as more slovenly, however. Though it was, he had become almost too acclimated to the sights and sensations reaped from making a mess out of his mother.

Consequentially, his attention waned for a second time. Ever committed to the speed and aggression of his actions, his actual attentions were eventually split between Mercy's skull and the climax of his program.

Albeit for a more understandable set of reasons, Mercy herself was not quite as 'taken in' with her skull-fucking as she usually was. The oxygen deprivation she endured remained pleasurable, and the perverse shame induced by the marring of her facial features still fed its usual warmth into her oozing cunt. Nevertheless, there existed then and there much more satisfying and attention-worthy elements of her circumstance than the 'fucking' itself.

For example, her mouth was squeaking like a cunt. Timed to each pulverising delivery of Yuuta's cock through her throat was the production of a vile and short-lived *PLORP!*. Spanning the length of Yuuta's thrusts right up to the moment he began to peel himself outwards (a fairly short period of time overall), the swampy noise still managed to sound reminiscent of a momentary boiling of cement or cake-batter.

The repeated production of these whorish noises led Mercy to begin thinking on their origins. Given such thought, she deduced its qualities to be a product of Yuuta's testicles repeatedly flopping up against her chin, and more broadly, the slam-fucking of her esophagus into a leaking, needy fleshlight.

More captivating than even this were the orgasmic throbs that thundered through Yuuta's length and wriggled through its veins. Each one told the same story: Yuuta was nearing an orgasm by virtue of fucking her face.

To her, however, they said more—inflammatory slurs that forced her to recall how much she enjoyed being fucked by her darling little boy.

“Yuyu’s gonna cum down my throat~! His cock is pulsing and swelling so much that I just know he’s going to explode!” Mercy mewled internally. “Do it, Yuyu! Blast all of your sticky cock juice right down Mommy’s throat ♥! It’ll make her feel more awake and you’ll be able to get off, so there’s no harm in it at all!”

From almost nothing at all, Mercy had gleamed a great deal of information about her son’s condition and what might be ‘best’ for him in the long run. At the same time, she came into possession of further validation for what she wanted: a stomach full of her little boy’s dickmilk.

“We’ve been over this, sweetie. Trying to hold it all in is bad for you—if you’re going to do it, you should just squeeze out every drop as soon as you can ♥. That’s what you’re drilling your cock into Mommy’s face for, isn’t it?” more so thinking to herself than addressing her son, Mercy still found it within herself to peer up at the boy as though her words could still reach him.

Deep down, she still believed that she could.

“EVERY DROP…goes right inside Mommy’s stomach, sweetie ♥. She can breathe just fine—everything about her is just fine, and will only be better once fill her.” she assured. “So baste my insides~! Flood my stomach and finish waking me up like a proper…

“Parental…

“Bitc—”

Somehow, in some way, Mercy’s words reached her son. Well into the production of her internal plea, the pace of Yuuta’s thrusts began accelerating towards a state of unsustainability. Second by second, the wet crotch slaps and guttural throat noises produced by his motions attained a volume and frequency that overwhelmed the hum of the living room’s television. Just when it began to seem as though the obscenity of these qualities had no ceiling, a final salvo of thrusts from Yuuta ended with a sound *SPLATT~* of his crotch against the lower half of Mercy’s face.

No sooner did the final inches of his member squeeze past the older woman’s lips did a bloated strand of pent up semen surge from the root of his shaft straight out into contact with the lower reaches of her esophagus.

Both as fat and as lengthy as Mercy had predicted, the off-white mud was propelled with a force that belied its curd-threaded qualities. Following contact with its target, its contents contributed to the creation of a garish, steaming bolus at the base of her esophagus whose ‘composition’ consisted of two semen-caked halves of her intestine’s interior.

Utterly ecstatic at the sensation of heated jizz spilling out inside her frame, Mercy wasted no time in involving herself further in her son’s release. Holding herself as still as a statue, she willfully swallowed down the fermented tapioca clogging her G.I tract right down into an equally-expansive splatter into her stomach. As this was executed after another pair of the swelled strands had added their contents to the blockage’s span, she wisely continued swallowing long after her gut was cleared.

Not surprisingly, her decision again rendered her skull as a shameless musical instrument capable of producing only the most sexual of noises.

*GRLP-GLRP-GLRP*

So went her esophagus’ cum-belabored peristalsis as filtered through her neck and the corners of her lips. Each link in the musical chain was produced alongside the addition of another mired semen strand into her stomach, and later, the splattering of these strands into the semi-solid pool of nut forming at the organ’s base.

Throughout the production of these embarrassingly salient noises, Mercy couldn’t have been happier. As she drew in shallow breaths scented by the throatslop and crotch flesh pressed up against her nostrils, all that she could feel was bliss. This she felt in spite of everything. The bloating of her stomach from the bottom up, the constant compression of melted reproductive cheese into her stomach—absolutely everything about her position seemed worthwhile to her.

All because she was the one currently responsible for draining semen out of Yuuta’s balls.

Wordless and content (even to herself), Mercy maintained her position from the beginning of Yuuta’s orgasm to its end. Even when the flooding of her stomach induced the release of lazy blurts of seed from her crotch-pressed nostrils, she refused to move an inch.

If she could not contain the entirety of Yuuta’s release, she could at the very least use the semen that she regurgitated to make her face seem more ‘appealing’ to him.

Tragically, her dedication went openly ignored by Yuuta as it was produced. Even now, his eyes remained focused on the television; the only proof that he was at all involved in his own release was the wince pinching his left eye closed.

This, and the momentary smirk that he flashed when an especially large regurgitation of semen from Mercy’s lips blanketed the span of his crotch…

-
A HALF-DAY ACTIVITY

The chronological gap between the first sex act that Mercy and Yuuta engaged in and the second was not an extremely long one. Mitigating factors typical for any refractory period (sluggishness and matronly decency for Mercy and childish preoccupation for Yuuta) prevented the pair from jumping into their next act when an opportunity first presented itself. Even so, it did not take them very long to get back on track.

This time, it was Yuuta who went out of his way to ensure that they did. After releasing his mother from his leg lock and helping her lips up and off of the length of his cock, he waited patiently for Mercy to catch her breath and reorient herself atop his crotch. A minute or so into her panting and mewling, he became of the opinion that Mercy had enough energy for them to move forward—if not with a more selfish activity, then with something equally enjoyable.

As such, he spoke.

“Hey, that felt really good, Mommy!” beginning with a compliment, he made certain that his eyes were directed towards her own as he spoke. “If you’re more awake now, wanna try something else? I think I still need to let out some stuff, so I wanna take care of that before anything else.”

Well used to the functional ‘haziness’ that overtook his mother each time she was stretched to her limit, Yuuta was quick to wiggle out from underneath her upper body and slide off of the couch onto his feet. Remaining at the older blonde’s side, he raised a hand to point away from the living room and back toward the bedrooms on the house’s second floor.

“We can do it in your bed, too. I know you’re probably not so sleepy anymore, but it’d give you some extra time to catch your breath and stuff.” he added.

With this, Yuuta extended a hand in aid towards the older woman.

“Here, I’ll take you. You don’t have to worry about anything!”

Well past the point of even attempting to rebuff any of her son’s suggestions, Mercy settled her hand into the much smaller limb extended towards her the moment she was able. Even if it were not the case that she adored Yuuta, the fucking that she had just received demanded that she defer to him.

In particular, it was this deference that pulled her body up onto its massive legs at Yuuta’s request, and later saw to it that she followed the lead that he established back up to her bedroom. Though the two of them had only come out of the room a few hours prior, returning to it actually struck her as a good idea. Atop a bed, Yuuta could fuck her as much as he pleased without the need for any sort of inventive pretext.

Much to her surprise, Yuuta created one all the same.

“Okay…” arms crossed at his chest (and around the middle of his steadily-swelling member as a consequence), Yuuta’s arrival at the mouth of the bedroom saw the boy commit himself to further thought. “How about you just lay on your back this time, Mommy? I think I can manage by myself this time as long as you help a bit.” he suggested.

Moved to a smile by her son’s generosity, Mercy responded despite there being no need for her to do so.

“Is that what you’d prefer, sweetie? To do things on your own?” she replied.

At this, Yuuta uncrossed his arms and nodded.

“Mhm! You can’t do all the work all the time, right? Even Mommies need to take breaks sometimes.”

Again, this was all that Mercy needed to hear. Happily wiggling out of the ruined shorts biting into her butt, she dropped the garment to her ankles and stepped out of them into the beginnings of a short stride over to the bed that she so often shared with her son. Descending to its mattress on her knees, she quickly turned over to set her ample frame back-first atop it. Eventually laying herself out vertically from the head of the bed to its foot, she spread her legs away from one another and raised them upwards to provide the ‘help’ that Yuuta had mentioned.

Innocent as always, she next stretched her arms outwards to beckon to her son.

“Is this good enough for you, Yuyu?”

The answer that Yuuta produced was his most simplistic yet. First pulling himself up onto Mercy’s bed, then drawing his miniature frame up between her legs on his knees, he persisted at an ideal position between her legs for seemingly no reason at all.

And he smiled. Towering erection gripped by his dominant hand and oozing precum down towards his mother’s swollen cunt lips, he smiled as the very same innocent boy who had deemed himself fit to drug and domesticate his mother…

-

For as much as Yuuta enjoyed being spoiled by his mother, the satisfaction that he gained from actively controlling her—from using her, or shaping her actions to fit one of his personal ideals—was infinitely greater.

Being a boy with a stronger-than-average attachment to his primary caregiver, this conclusion was not one that he jumped to immediately. Throughout the months of his drugging, teasing, and finally coaxing her into sexual intercourse with him, he had experimented with denying himself control, or splitting what amounts of it he accrued with his mother to his own benefit.

Each time he did, he found himself unsatisfied. His mother’s sexual efforts were far from poor, but those that he put forward himself were better.

More satisfying.

More memorable.

His arrival at this epiphany marked the introduction of a specific ‘change’ into the atypical ‘daily life’ he had come to lead with Mercy. Rather than allow himself to be constantly spoiled by his mother, he took it upon himself to drive proceedings more and more. Mercy herself was guaranteed to follow along regardless of what he proposed, and if she didn’t, putting her up to a few appetizing activities beforehand would be enough to render her compliant.

Sticking to the plan that his juvenile mind hatched reaped immediate benefits for Yuuta—the very same that washed over him as he buried his still-pent erection down through another wet, cervix-depth drive into his mother’s vaginal canal.

His timing had been perfect. Most every hour of the day leading up to the moment had been spent teasing Mercy or viciously satiating himself. Upon proposing his latest suggestion for something more intimate and providing the loosest form of validation possible for it, Mercy proved the more eager between them where sex was concerned.

For a child, few voices spoke louder than positive confirmation. If the flushed and pleasure-twisted features below him were what came of his imposing himself, doing so more was bound to create a version of his mother even more ideal than the one that he already had.

This—and not the adorable suckle of his mother’s engorged cervix to the tip of his member—was the last thought that Yuuta entertained before completing his first hilt inside Mercy’s cunt. Stirring his hips so as to grind his battering ram’s tip around the pliant button’s exterior, a final inward pop from his hips was required to see the last few inches of steeled cockmeat at his erection’s base squished into the leaking embrace of Mercy’s folds.

The disappearance of these inches put the finishing touches on the distension of Mercy’s midsection. Though unchanged from her womanhood up to the beginnings of her lower abdominals, an especially ‘majestic’ phallic arc could be seen stretching the soft curvature of her midsection into a reddened and mountainous sleeve for his erection. Comprised entirely of uterus flesh contorted by the length and girth of his shaft and a succulent body cavity capable of containing these contortions, the sight of it completed an ‘image’ within the bedroom instantiated with the bedroom countless time prior.

Mercy and her son were having sex.

“I’m gonna start moving, ‘kay Mommy? Don’t forget to speak up if you need something this time!” Yuuta chirped. “It’s not like your mouth is gonna be full this time, so I’ll probably be able to understand you this time for sure!”

Mercy did not attempt to respond to her son’s suggestion. Like Yuuta, she was well-versed in proceedings—too much so to speak out before the thrusting that he had mentioned began in earnest.

Instead of her voice, she used her face. Flashing a smile framed by the descent of a fair few lustful sweat droplets across the corners of her face, she confirmed her understanding just in time for a sizeable section of the youth’s cock to be messily unplugged from her depths.

Less than half of the vascular pole’s length was disengaged from the suckling grip of her inner walls. In spite of this, Mercy felt as though her insides were being dragged from out of her. The minor deflation of her cock-fattened gut and the backwards slide of throbbing cockmeat through her cervix remained as maddening for her then as they had been when she could only dream of her son fucking her as a lover. Even when another forward plunge from Yuuta’s crotch replanted these inches where they belonged, she could not help but picture herself as a virgin being pierced for the first time.

But she wasn’t. She had been fucked like this countless times in the past, and was certain to be subjected to far worse in the future. She had grown to love everything about being stuck with her son’s cock until her brain function was reduced to that of mush. Not only did it make her feel complete, but, after much ‘encouragement’ from her son, it made her feel like the most special sort of mother there could be.

Given such a reality, remaining silent following Yuuta’s question was not an option. Mustering another brave display of willpower, Mercy pit her voice against the sexual clopping and thudding induced by the beginnings of Yuuta’s thrusts in a competition for the title of ‘dominant noise source’ within the bedroom.

“T-That’s…v-very…” two words into her planned sentence and the push and pull of blood-vessel-studded cockmeat through her over-fucked cervix had her tongue caught within the back of her throat. “V-Very d-difficult s-sweetie…e-especially when you’re…NGGGMHHH♥♥.”

Without warning, Mercy was fucked right out of character. Eyes curling upwards within their sockets and upper-right incisor dropping down into a spear-like stab into the right corner of her lower lip, an orgasmic surge of pleasure rendered her attempt at congeniality mute.

Forcibly plastered to her face for several elating seconds, its dissipation left Mercy to pick up the pieces of her psyche and attempt speaking again.

“…i-It’s not so e-easy Yuyu sweetie…” she stammered, voice notably thinner for the squeal that she had produced. “Y-You’re pushing everything in so hard and s-so deep ♥. I-I don’t know i-if you’ve realized t-this yet, b-but g-girl’s don’t really t-think s-so well while g-getting stirred up like this…♥.”

Whereas the vehemence—or lack thereof—that gilded Mercy’s response might have suggested otherwise, the experience that she had attempted to describe was in no way exaggerated.

With regard to both position and execution, Yuuta’s thrusting pattern was ruthless. When first the sweaty kiss between his crotch and Mercy’s cock-spread lower lips was disengaged, a vigorous splatter of sexual lubricant from Mercy’s depths had followed it. Applied as grease to ensure that her needy inner walls did not hug too tightly to the reddened exterior of his member, the nerve endings of her folds were given no time to adjust to the bestial phallus passing through them. Much like the sudden removal of a freshly-applied bandaid (if several orders of magnitude more obscene), an intolerably electric stimulation flowed from the back half of her cunt through to her outer lips as Yuuta retreated.

Then, he re-entered her. Folds still convulsing en masse and pleasure centers still drowned by bliss, the outward slide of his crouch was undone by another forward slam moments after the first. The bloated cocktip that her uterus so craved was again popped through her cervix into her reproductive oven’s grasp. Soon afterwards, her gut was re-inflated by another taxing hilt, and the meaty surface area of her vaginal canal utterly consumed by twitching, virile boy-cock.

Neither of these sensations were explicitly new to Mercy. Her need to be fucked, and one day inseminated by her son ensured that she perceived the events as such whenever they occurred, but with regard to reality, their novelty was rooted in Yuuta’s position.

This time, Mercy found herself motionless. Per Yuuta’s request, she had laid herself out on her back, spread her legs, and submitted herself to contortion by his little hands prior to being penetrated. The end result of her doing so was her son’s hands supporting the undersides of her thighs whilst his narrow chest loomed over her own at position undoubtedly reserved for a ‘dominant’ male.

Fully aware of her perverse attraction towards the boy, the impact of Yuuta’s position did not need to be explained to her. Being forced into a uniquely female position and later fucked whilst in it by a male suitably equipped to ‘manage’ her obscene frame fed instincts inscribed into her very gender.

To these instincts, Yuuta’s youth and status was irrelevant. Solely relevant was the fact that a male that she adored was aggressively breeding her in a position to his liking.

When combined with the natural affection that she felt towards him, each instance of depression and retraction that Yuuta produced felt more potent to her than even her most spirited attempt at molding her own womb to match the shape of his cock.

Of course, assuming one required that Mercy’s unique…perception be placed aside, Yuuta’s thrusts could still be considered as impressive. Propped up on bent knees with only the musculature of his abdominals to back his thrusts, the youth repeatedly produced thrusts that were equally obscene and effective.

6 inches of motion was all that he required to batter his mother’s womb into submission. Whilst peeling himself backwards, these inches reminded her vaginal canal as to the abrasive texture of the phallus that it contained. Whilst driving himself inwards, these inches represented the difference between a taut and garish swelling of Mercy’s middle and the persistence of a slightly-less obscene distension of her stomach. Most importantly, this span of motion was enough to consistently displace heady quantities of the lubricant that spewed from her folds each time he came to the end of one of his stabs.

Per any one of the uncountable *PLAPS!* induced by the impact between his crotch and her own, muffled squirting noises akin to the whipping of syrup against a flat wall could be heard burbling out from between the root of Yuuta’s cock and the cock-parted vaginal canal ahead of it. Curtailed by way of elongation, these spewing noises were drawn out into a mired, clingy *SCLLLLP* belted out by her folds as they attempted (unsuccessfully) to keep themselves melded with the bulk of Yuuta’s cock. When the boy rammed himself clear less than a second after the fact, the sound’s composition was warped for a third and final time. Heavy and guttural ‘GLUPS!’—like the plunge of a baseball bat into loosened earth eager to consume anything slotted into it with enough violence—echoed out from Mercy’s core.

Though the last of these noises seeped from her cunt as all of the others had, its quality was as such that its source was obvious. From canal to cervix, Yuuta’s thrusts rendered each section of his mother’s womanhood as differing parts of the same leaking, squeaking fuckhole.

Given these noises and the thrusts that had brought them about, it could be fairly stated that Mercy had a good reason to embrace the role of a helpless outlet for her son’s lusts.

In his own way, Yuuta advocated for her taking up the position as well. Time and time again had he watched her suffer in silence with regard to sexual pleasure. During these instances, their combined efforts exhausted her into indifference, at which point she began to actually enjoy herself.

Something about the expression on her face and the moans that trickled from her lips told the youth that no such exertion would be required this time around.

Mercy was already enjoying herself plenty—she was simply too conscious of herself to speak out about it.

In Yuuta’s case, acceptance of his mother’s position did not equate to tolerance towards it. Deeply interested in what might be going through the older woman’s head now that she could properly enjoy herself, he continued pressing her for a response even after the minute-long, moan-filled silence that had followed her explanation.

“It might be hard…” Yuuta began, eyes coincidentally shifted to the left of a dead-on stare at Mercy’s face. “But if anyone can do it, you can, Mommy! Who would know better about what you’re feeling than you, right?”

While aware of the fact that what he was asking of Mercy was unreasonable, Yuuta genuinely believed that she was capable of producing it. No matter how sordid, sexual, or manipulative their relationship became, the effort that the blonde woman had put into seeming invincible whilst in his presence would remain relevant to him.

For this reason (among several others relating to the massive load of dense cock juice brewing within his balls) Yuuta did not slow his thrusts whilst waiting for a response. To him, doing so would not have made a difference—no matter the odds set against her, Mercy was guaranteed to succeed.

Even if success equated to drinking down more of his semen with her insides.

Mercy herself felt anything but invincible. Enjoying such aggressive, gut-rending sex from her current position had made absorbing stimulation far easier than managing it. At last poised to serve as a proper set of fuckholes for her son, it never crossed her mind that he might need her for anything more than the occasional constriction of whichever hole he chose to grind himself into.

Apparently, Yuuta needed more. After mustering what strength she could and purposing it in an extremely ineffective form of concentration, the panting woman came to the conclusion that he wanted her to verbally recite something about her experience. What she ought to say and how she ought to say it sat beyond her, but if the continuation of his thrusts was any indication, vulgarity was likely apart of it.

The question was how much so.

“Y-Yuyu…t-that s-stuff—NNGMMM~—i-isn’t r-really good for m-mommies’t s-say—GYUGHH♥—y-you know?” speaking out between moans induced by Yuuta’s efforts and the sexual noises, Mercy fought to explain herself in a way that even her beloved Yuuta might understand.

Regrettably, the lustful glow that bled from her her eyes and the streaks of saliva that streamed down from the corners of her mouth did not lend her argument much credibility.

“S-So…I-I think I can d-do it but...” bashful as ever, the thoughts running through her head eventually pulled her line of sight away from Yuuta’s. “ I-I dunno if you should—“

Whilst mumbling to herself, Mercy had neglected to keep abreast of her surroundings. For a moment, she forgot that it was her son driving himself into her, and in doing so lost sight of what the boy was capable of were she to take his eyes off of him.

Thus, when an especially-invasive plunge from his crotch tented the fuming meat of her uterus into another sustained plastering of its flesh against her abdominals, a mild wave of nausea accompanied the abrasive bliss pressed through her folds.

Before she could take a moment to reorient her features towards the boy’s face, the sensation of a considerable weight flopping down against her breasts and abdominals took the wind out of her completely.

Yuuta and dropped his front flat against her own. Yet again, he had found a very creative means of procuring her attention.

“You’re having fun, right Mommy?” Yuuta asked, features beaming down at Mercy much more closely than before.

Consumed by a much more significant kind of stimulation, the truth left Mercy’s unfiltered.

“Y-Yes♥! I-I l-love this feeling~! I love being a-able to feel your cock punch and grind against the insides of my cunt Yuyu ♥!”

At this, Yuuta giggled.

“See? That was easy, right? Why don’t you try some more—I won’t repeat anythin’ you say to anyone else, so you can say whaaaaaatever you want…” he offered.

“Even if it’s really, really bad.”

Ordinarily, this brand of invitation was the exact sort that Mercy had taught herself to resist. Whilst skewered by her favorite cock and cajoled by its owner, the appeal of this option and the catharsis inherent to it became so tempting that even she could not resist them.

Abruptly, the lovestruck eyes that had wavered away from her son’s face began pouring adoration straight back up at Yuuta’s face.

“Getting f-f….getting FUCKED like t-this feels amazing, Yuyu! It makes me r-really, really happy when y-you fuck my drooling cunt like this! Nothing m-makes me feel like a better mother than knowing that my cunt feels good for you!” Mercy squeaked.

Once started with the idea of ‘speaking her mind’, Mercy did not stop halfway. Enraptured by intimacy and sexual arousal—both generated by and directed towards her son—she raised both of her hands away from her sides up into the application of a loose hug around Yuuta’s mid-back. Intent on ensuring that her feelings were both heard and felt, she waited for her efforts to bump the tip of Yuuta’s nose against her own before continuing.

“I-I want you to keep enjoying y-yourself like this, okay? Y-You stopped t-thrusting like before, a-and that’s no good…Y-You’ll feel s-stressed if you don’t let everything out inside, right?”

No explicit evidence existed for the cause-effect relationship Mercy had described, but all signage she had observed whilst taking Yuuta’s monstrous endowment into one of her holes pointed towards it being a reality.

Past this, she wanted nothing more than for Yuuta to use his control over her frame to utterly bloat her womb with semen again.

“Mommy’s insides aren’t going to let a drop spill out, so let her have it all, okay? Cake every inch of my cunt with your gluey semen~! Y-You’ve already stirred me up so much that my cunt can only understand your cock, so it doesn’t m-matter if…”

For a moment, Mercy hesitated. Once upon a time, the words presently held on the tip of her tongue were those that she had vowed to never utter—to never entertain as anything more than a sexual fuel to be burnt during masturbation.

Now, these same words represented something attainable. Her life was capable of facilitating their contents, and the arbiter of its conferment lay ready and waiting to fulfill her desires.
She simply needed to speak.

“I-It’s ok even if you put a baby inside me! I-If that’s what it t-takes for you to drain out all of your nasty baby juice, I don’t care ♥.” Mercy exclaimed.

From the moment he halted his thrusting pattern to ‘encourage’ speech from his mother, Yuuta had expected to have the request he had placed fulfilled. He had expected his mother to feed into his miniature ego, thereby providing him with another reason to continue goring her needy cunt as his favorite masturbation toy.

What Mercy actually produced surprised even him. Mouth drawn agape by Mercy’s vulgarity and heart made to flutter by her honesty, her exclamations plucked strings within his chest only recently sowed to his juvenile emotion set.

With this, the biological lust that drove his actions was matched by the reverberation of an entirely emotional desire. Together, these desires imposed a single demand onto his miniature frame:

He had to continue thrusting. No matter the toll on his frame or Mercy’s, drilling his cock through her folds and inseminating as many as her eggs as possible was mandatory.

To this end, Yuuta put his head down and adhered to his mother’s suggestion. Pushing his breast-buoyed front back upwards, he replanted himself at his initial thrusting position, and at the same time peeled the spread of Mercy’s legs up into positions appropriate for his intent. Specifically, he drew both limbs from a 9-clock spread at her hips to a vertical, 12’o’clock dangle that set their ankles to hang just above her ears.

Despite the significance of his task, each of these motions were devoid of any visible signs of exertion. In fact, were it not for the vicious unsheathing of his member that he produced subsequently and the youthful grunt that accompanied it, one could have very easily imagined contortions such as these to be commonplace for the youth.

That which followed the event was anything but commonplace. Without so much as gazing up at his mother in forewarning, Yuuta plunged the span of inches he had wrenched from her guts straight back through her sputtering womanhood.

This done, his thrusting pattern began anew. Chained instances of stomach-swelling impact and syrup-drenched extrication were brought about by his hips and cock whilst the tips of his toes kept him stable.

These, however, were not meant to last. Between their speed and vehemence, the pressure that they placed on the meaty blood vessels writhing across Yuuta’s erection—everything pointed towards a final sprint towards a nearby goal.

A goal rooted in sordid, incestual reproduction.

-
HAPPY FAMILY

Though Mercy had spoken truthfully when asked by Yuuta to describe her feelings towards their sex, the verbal ‘color’ that had brightened her utterances was not something that she could access on a whim. The feeling of Yuuta’s cock throbbing with need within her womb and the knowledge that his body needed hers for something more than parenting granted her the desire to utter such things.

Desire alone was insufficient for the guided structure and intent that her latest utterances had contained. With regard to these, a much more potent catalyst had prompted her mind to embrace reality, and had in doing so provided her lust-addled mind with a foundation upon which to build coherence.

Touch by touch, orgasm by orgasm, and word by word, Yuuta had successfully fucked his mother into a state of ovulation. By making use of her throughout the day and dominating her as any suitably virile male might a fertile female, he had convinced the ideal matron’s frame that his presence was no longer that of a child that needed to be taken care of—not entirely, anyway.

Now, his was a presence partly that of a male to be deferred to, and partly that of a loveable child. Mercy’s nature disallowed any sort of alteration to his image as her son, but appending the role of a dominant male to this image proved an easy enough change to make.

Through this shift, Mercy’s womb arrived at the conclusion that conditions had become ideal for the production of another child. Thusly was a sole ovum fast-tracked through her tubing by Yuuta’s masturbation with her uterus, and thusly did it find the lining of her uterus ready and waiting for it.

When Yuuta resumed his thrusting pattern following Mercy’s outbursts, only a single task remained for the organ: ensuring that the egg within it was inseminated.

To this end, all stops were pulled. In response to the curved pile-driver blows rapidly slammed against Mercy’s crotch, programming was passed from Mercy’s uterus to her vaginal canal, and afterwards to her brain.

The instructions handed out to her cunt were simple. As each thrust produced by Yuuta’s hips saw an engorged pipe of cockmeat that exceeded an arm in length ruthlessly squeezed through its depths into repeated, lubricant greased invasions of her core, consistent constriction was the only means left available for it to impose itself. Hastily rendering itself as a single meaty, pulsing knot, each crushing plunge that Yuuta produced became akin to the thumping of tender meat into rigid, sauna-temperature sleeve.

Whereas Yuuta perceived this adjustment as an increase in his chosen task’s difficulty, Mercy enjoyed a degree of relief. Though no ‘armouring’ could be provided for her testicle-tenderized outerlips, her internal contraction moderated the bliss fed through her folds just enough to keep her conscious.

With this consciousness, her mind executed the second of her womanhood’s instructions. Measuring Yuuta’s orgasm to be mere moments away, it was suggested that Mercy herself reinforce the requests that she had made of her son.

At present, there was only one method available for her to accomplish this. First undoing the hug that she had wrapped around Yuuta’s back, she raised her hands further still until both of her palms sat opposite his cheeks. Gently cupping both of his cheeks, she progressively peeled his downturned features back into a stare up at her face.

This done, she pulled. Displaying a strength all her own, she forcibly disrupted Yuuta’s thrusting pattern by drawing his head up to a spot right above her own. Rooting his member more deeply within her in the process, she purposed this opportunity to press a final kiss into his lips.

Compositionally, it was commonplace. Situationally, it said to Yuuta words that Mercy lacked the depravity to say with her mouth.

“FUCKING BREED ME ♥.”

The moment Mercy imposed her kiss was the moment that she received what she asked for. Still starved for a final few morsels of his mother’s cunt, Yuuta produced a final trio of hooked, crotch-depths thrusts through her folds before the onset of his long-awaited orgasm carried a mammoth thread of sperm-riddled cock juice straight out of the tip of his length. Swelling every inch of urethra it passed through like an obscene volume of water through a too-small hose, its expulsion from his cocktip was accompanied by a sewage-like sputter of muddy jizz from the edges of his urethra, and a commeasurably strained grunt from between his lips.

Much like all of his orgasms within Mercy, the sensation of congealed semen wriggling through his member out into contact with the meat of her womb was satisfying. This instance, however, numbed the boy’s brain from the back of his brainstem to the front of his eyes.

Something was special about it, and his body knew it.

Precisely what was special about the event was only apparent to Yuuta on the level of basal instinct. In most every other aspect, the warm haze of euphoria that swallowed his mind whilst spurt after spurt of jizz was blasted out inside Mercy’s womb was exactly the same.

It went without saying, of course, that the manner in which Mercy’s innards were doused was far from typical.

This time, the last of Yuuta’s thrusts failed to drive his glans back into direct contain with the back wall of Mercy’s uterus. Instead slanted upwards (i.e / as opposed to – ) it was the top of the organ’s back pocket that was the first region to be caked underneath a layer of discolored nut.

Point of delivery aside, Yuuta’s seed was thicker and fresher than it had been earlier in the day. Seeming more so like a platted slime than the curdled sludge that had fattened Mercy’s stomach previously, the ropes of the substance blasted atop one another at the back of her womb naturally coalesced into a patch of thick, cloudy mire without notable signs of segmentation or stacking. Within seconds of their compilation, the entire back half of the organ was partly smeared, and partly engorged by glutted, writhing boy-cum.

Such was the capacity of Yuuta’s balls (and the extent of the stimulation he had received) that the passage of time saw the steaming reproductive bedlam at the back half of Mercy’s womb fed all throughout its interior. Consistently bloated noodles of plaster-quality semen erupted from the tip of the youth’s cock on a second by second basis. As the reservoir they were directed towards consisted of flesh belonging to a single organ, its swelling saw stretches of uterine lining contracted inwards to aid in shouldering the squirming load that was flushed into it. Soon enough, the draping and caking of semen strands against its interior turned the confines of her womb into a pliant vat of jizz stuffed enough with the substance to obscure the spurting cocktip responsible for filling it.

From the inundation of Mercy’s womb came the opportunity that her frame sought. Once filled to the brim with semen from floor to ceiling, her womb was forced to expand outwards into contact with her abdominals. Fat enough to suggest a form of pregnancy without adopting the smooth tautness that might confirm it, the steady swelling of the organ eventually superseded the cock-shaped bulge already tenting her middle. As seconds turned to minutes, the outflow of jizz strands through Yuuta’s length rendered her stomach a uniform sac of pudgy, semen-bloated flesh.

Stretched and swelled with genetic material, the ovum sewn to Mercy’s uterine lining was denied all breathing room. Persisting within the semen-swelled space by virtue of coincidence, the bloating of Mercy’s womb rendered it as a glaring, succulent target for the fattened tadpoles trapped amidst a blended squirm among thousands of their peers.

When one of these monstrous cells smashed its face against the cell’s exterior, a dozen others followed behind it. The very first was so overwhelmed by its peers that the dozen behind it took the ‘hole’ that it buried into Mercy’s egg and turned it into a gaping sinkhole. Further cells writhed forth into the hole until the entire span of the rooted egg’s face became a cratered net of intertwined tadpole tails.

Brutal a sight as the event seemed—were anyone capable of actually seeing it—what it represented to Mercy fulfillment.

At long last, she had a family—a son that loved her, a male that wished to breed with her, and a brand new child that would eventually grow to become living validation for her perversions.

In most every aspect possible, Yuuta’s cock and cum had made all of her dreams come true…
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Angela Ziegler’s Crippling Boy-Cock Addiction