A Cure for Depression
by Tanya Sissipus ( firstname.lastname@example.org )
Chapter 1—Loving Parents
“Son of a bitch!” Cursing, I jammed the shovel deep into the dirt. Why the HELL was I going through all this? Who was I trying to fool? What the fuck did I think it was going to accomplish? Disgusted with myself, I dragged a sweaty arm across my burning forehead and scowled.
I’d been slaving my ass of for five long hours, without a break from the sun OR the heat, and nobody seemed to give a damn. My lazy, unemployed, irresponsible excuse for a brother was off on vacation with his slut of a girlfriend; Dad was working overtime—again—because he was too cheap to hire another employee; and Mom, well, she was just useless. As for myself, I had the unfortunate distinction of being home, which meant I was available to dig up Mom’s garden for her.
“God forbid she should have to wait a day to plant her precious flowers.” Using the dirty work-gloves to wipe the sweat from my face, I turned to look at the house and popped her the finger. She couldn’t even be bothered to come out and help because she was too busy doing her aerobics. Yeah, like digging up the garden couldn’t give her the same workout? Of course, that would mean missing her precious soaps. Oh, the horror!
The humiliating thing was, all I COULD do was stand here and complain to myself. If I’d so much as opened my mouth to her, she’d just remind me what a favour she was doing by letting me stay in her house rent-free. Shit, nobody ever comes right out and says it, but they all think it’s MY fault I can’t find a decent job. They don’t care that most jobs in my field are out-of-town, and that they don’t pay well enough to move. Hell, if I could find something to just cover my rent—never mind food—I’d have been out the door ages ago!
Unfortunately, that line of defence would just lead to the “get a part-time job here and contribute” speech. Dammit—didn’t they realized I’d BEEN trying? Problem was, every time I applied for a local job, they’d turn me down as being overqualified. They’d give me some song and dance about not being able to rely on someone who’ll bolt at the first sign of a better offer. And, as much I hate to admit, that I can understand. Still, I’ve ever stopped looking, even though I sometimes wonder if it’s worth it.
Having talked myself out of any further exertion, I sat down beneath the shade of our neighbour’s tree, leaned against the fence, and chucked the gloves onto the porch. “It’s not like you have anything better to do,” I told myself. “The guys have all moved away, you blew all your money on a useless college degree, and you haven’t had a steady girlfriend in almost two years.” Gawd, why did I have to keep reminding myself of just WHY my life sucked and HOW bad? What was I, a glutton for punishment?
I was just about to return to the garden when I heard the front door squeak open. Without thinking, I looked, then almost whistled in appreciation before my face flushed with embarrassment. On top of everything else, now I had to face THIS! Shit, it wasn’t normal for a son to find his mother so attractive, but I couldn’t help myself. She’d been exercising steadily, eating healthily, and taking a shitload of vitamins for about eight or nine months now, and it was really beginning to show.
Today, she was wearing nothing but a skintight pair of green spandex shorts, a pink t-shirt that had seen better days, and red nailpolish. A year ago she never would have been able to wear such things—and wouldn’t have wanted to—but that had all changed. As her exquisite legs descended the stairs, her sweat glistening in the sunlight, I had to remind myself she would be turning forty-one this year. Any stranger would have sworn she was at least ten years younger. For that matter, maybe even fifteen.
“Hi, hon,” she called cheerily. “Thought you might like a drink.”
Nodding, I tried to respond past the lump in my throat. I tried to tell myself that I was just proud of her for getting in such good shape, but knew that wasn’t it. As much as it bothered me to admit it, I was admiring the body of a beautiful woman. More than that, I was lusting after it!
The fact that we were related was just an unpleasant complication.
Handing me a refreshingly cool glass, she smiled. “Why didn’t you come in and take a break? You look like hell.”
Shrugging, I downed the contents of the glass in one gulp, still afraid to attempt speech. Ever since the results of her fitness program had begun to show, she’d become much easier to live with. Gone was the bitchy, complaining, chainsmoking, fiend we had all come to know so well. In her place, we had this stranger, a happy, generous, domestic goddess. “I just wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to plant your flowers,” I replied. No matter how angry I felt, I couldn’t maintain it around her anymore. We used to fight like you wouldn’t believe, but that had changed too.
Still smiling, she strolled over to inspect my handiwork. I had to physically force myself not to watch her tight little ass swaying back and forth. Instead, I looked down at the empty glass and frowned. “Why milk?” I asked her, just now realizing what I had swallowed.
“Because it’s good for you.” Returning from her inspection, she complimented me on my gardening skills and declared my day done. “Take a rest,” she laughed, “You certainly deserve it.”
A moment ago, I’d been ready to murder the world. Now . . . now I was just feeling guilty. She hadn’t deserved me giving her the finger earlier, and certainly wouldn’t appreciate me lusting after her now. Confused, I followed her inside. As I dropped the glass in the sink, I remarked “The milk tasted a little funny, but it hit the spot.”
She giggled—something her old self had NEVER done—and told me “It’s a special blend.” Winking my way, she promised “Much better for you that the regular stuff.”
Special blend? Great—probably some powdered shit with wheat germ, tofu, and powdered bark mixed in. Shrugging, I thanked her and headed for the shower, half-afraid she would follow and half-wishing she would. As I slid the glass door closed behind me, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset to be showering alone.
Disturbed by that particular thought, I cranked the dial all the way to the right and braced myself for the cold.
At supper that night, I surprised myself by passing up my usual coffee or a Coke, and instead went straight for the milk. Maybe Mom’s fitness kick was contagious—who knows—but I HAD been feeling a little better since my shower.
“Is this glass in the fridge for a reason?” I asked, spotting a full glass of milk next to the pitcher.
Mumbling his way around a porkchop, Dad shrugged “It ain’t mine, Julian.”
Already taking it from the fridge, I turned and asked “Mom?”
“I left it there for you,” she smiled. “I wanted to make sure it was good and cold.”
“Thanks.” Returning to the table, I downed half the glass in one swallow, amazed at how good it tasted. I’d never been a big milk drinker before, but I could easily see myself becoming one now.
“Whoa!” Rolling out of bed, I groaned, trying to remember what I had been dreaming about. Whatever it had been, it must have been a doozey. I was feeling horny as hell, my sheets were literally dripping with sweat, and I had a hard-on like you would not believe!
“Hmm, good thing nobody’s home,” I muttered. Dragging myself down the hall, I stumbled into the bathroom. Damn, I needed relief and I needed it NOW. So, wrapping a sweaty hand around my throbbing prick, I kicked open the hamper and dropped my shorts inside. I was just about to turn for the toilet when I spotted something inside. Before I could even think about it, I reached down to the bottom of the hamper and pulled out a pair of my mother’s panties.
I don’t know what made me do it, but as my hand flew up and down the swollen shaft of my cock, I brought the pink treasure to my face and inhaled. “Mmmmmm!” Gawd, did I miss that smell! It was a heady, musky aroma—much stronger than I remembered from my last girlfriend—but from the way my cock began twitching, it had triggered something inside me.
“Ooohhh . . . yesss . . .” Lost in a world of fantasy, I poked out my tongue and licked at the damp crotch. “Ahhhhhh!” It was like absolutely nothing I’d ever tasted before. Sure, I’d eaten out my share of girlfriends in the past, but this was a thousand times better. Unable to believe what I was doing, I shoved the panties in my mouth and began sucking the juices out of them.
“Nnngghhh . . .” My hand was a blur as it stroked my cock, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. Staring, I couldn’t believe how swollen the purple head was or how huge my balls had become. I felt like I had a year’s worth of cum stored inside me, and knew that my mother was responsible.
I’d be feeling damn guilt later, but for now I had other things on my mind.
“Yes, yes, yes . . . arrrggghhhh!” My cock exploded so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of me. Gasping for breath, I watched in amazement as spurt after spurt of hot, sticky, white cum splattered against the bathroom wall. Seven, eight, nine, ten—each explosion one more intense than the last. My entire body was convulsing with the power of the moment, and I very nearly swallowed the pink satin treasure in my mouth.
Finally, it was over, and my cock began shrinking back to normal. I didn’t understand what had just happened, but I wasn’t about to complain. All I could think of was the milk I’d been drinking all week, and figured that maybe this healthy eating stuff wasn’t so bad after all. However, once the feeling of ecstasy passed, I realized what I had done. Spitting the soggy panties into my hands, I looked down at the smear of cum they’d landed in, and grimaced in disgust.
What had I done? Horny or not, dream or no dream, what could have made me suck on my own mother’s underwear? I’d never imagined I could get off on the smell, never mind enjoy the taste of her stale pussy juices. Sure, she’d been looking fantastic lately, but she was still my mother. Ashamed of myself, I dropped the panties back in the hamper and climbed into the shower.
Every morning for the rest of the week, I awoke feeling hornier than the morning before. Maybe it was the milk and exercise that were doing it, but I couldn’t believe my body was changing THAT quickly. As fantastic as Mom was looking, it had taken close to a year for her transformation to take place, and she was obsessive about it. I, on the other hand, was just doing what seemed convenient.
Regardless of the cause, though, I found it impossible to resist the hormones raging inside me. My morning jack-off sessions seemed to be the only way to deal with it, and had become a regular occurrence.
But what really disturbed me was the fact that I’d jerked off while sucking on Mom’s panties TWICE more that week. I was so ashamed of myself, I’d resorted to jerking off in the bedroom, hoping I could avoid the temptation. Unfortunately, that only lasted three days before the urge became too great. So, admitting defeat, as soon as I woke up I headed straight for the bathroom. That morning, of all mornings, there were no panties in the hamper, so I’d had to settle for sucking her sweaty sport-bra.
It wasn’t quite the same—and the desperation was starting to become frightening—but I still enjoyed it.
And felt even guiltier afterwards.
Yawning, I waved, then stopped. Turning slowly, I looked up to find my mother sitting at the kitchen table, wearing only a towel. Actually, it was more a face-cloth than a towel, and left very little to my oversexed imagination. Images of white mounds and the pink hint of nipples in my mind, I spun back around before she could see my embarrassment.
Fortunately, what I found in the fridge provided a temporary distraction. “Hey—where’s the milk?”
“Huh?” Tugging up on the towel, Mom DID cover a bit more of her breasts, but also revealed more of her ass than I could handle. “Oh,” she shrugged, “Guess I’ll have to pick some up today.”
It sounds silly, but I felt hurt and betrayed that she had let us run out of milk. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I’d become addicted to the stuff. Oh well, as I tried not to run from the room—and the temptation it harboured—I figured I could do without for one morning.
“Ung.” Grumbling, I ignored Mom and Dad’s morning ‘hellos’ and ran straight for the fridge. After three straight nights of not sleeping well, and just as many brutal mornings, I was in a foul mood. “What!” Furious, I slammed the fridge door shut, knocking magnets to the floor. “I thought you were gonna get some milk!”
“Oh, sorry hon.” Completely unconcerned with MY needs, Mom sipped at her coffee. Of course, what did she care? Mom had been taking her coffee—decaf, of course—black for months. She didn’t need the milk—I DID!
“I’ll pick some up for you this afternoon,” she promised between swallows.
But I needed it NOW! Pissed off, I stormed out of the kitchen, threw on a t-shirt and decided to go to the store myself. I was stupid to think that a few days without milk were behind my problems, but I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t felt that good in years, and sure as hell wasn’t about to sink back into my angry depression without a fight.
On the plus side, however, I hadn’t had the urge to suck Mom’s underwear lately.
“Mom . . .” Groaning, I collapsed in front of the fridge, defeated again. I’d been without milk for a week now, and I swear it was killing me. I’d gone to every store in town—and a few within driving distance—to buy it myself, but had returned home disappointed every time. Shit, I’d sampled every brand and every kind of milk known to man, but COULDN’T find whatever it was that Mom had been buying. By comparison, everything else tasted like water.
“What is it, hon?” Showing a concern I wouldn’t have thought she possessed, she asked “What’s wrong?”
“I . . . I need some more of that milk.” Looking up at her, I was shocked to find tears in my eyes. “I need it so bad, Mommy. Please, can’t you get me some?” I was even more shocked to find that I felt no shame or embarrassment in begging. What the hell was happening to me?
“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s not that easy to get.”
Desperate, I crawled across the floor and began kissing her feet. “Please, Mommy!” I bawled. No matter what it took or what it cost, I NEEDED that milk.
Finally, she seemed to crack. “Oh, my poor, poor baby.” Smiling, Mom began stroking the back of my head. “You know,” she whispered, “I’m amazed you lasted as long as you did.”
“Wha . . . what do you mean?” Looking up at her well-toned, scantily clad body, I knew I would do anything for this woman. As I wiped the tears from my red, swollen eyes, I felt as if I owed her something. It scared the hell out of me, but there was nothing I could do to resist.
Instead of answering my question, she stood and said “Follow me, sweetheart.”
With my eyes glued to her firm, rounded ass and sleek, supple legs, I let her lead me down the hall and into her bedroom. The shame was still there, but without her to focus on, I would have collapsed.
Smiling seductively, she laid down on the bed and pulled off her spandex top. Gawd, her breasts easily had to have been twice their normal size! Where the HELL had they come from? She hadn’t had implants, I was sure of that, but no exercise I knew of could cause such a drastic change. I was so confused, but what bothered me more was my sudden urge to attack those wondrous globes with my mouth. Damn, no matter what was wrong with me, she was still my mother!
“Ahhhh, you don’t know how goooood that feels,” she told me. “I’ve been keeping my new gems hidden until you were ready.” Pointing a finger at me, she lightly chastised “I didn’t expect you to keep me waiting so long.”
Impulsively, I threw myself to the ground, kneeling before the side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” I told her, feeling guilty for causing her so much pain. “Please, Mommy, I beg of you—forgive me!” What the hell was I doing?
“Julian, dear, there is nothing to forgive.” Smiling, she patted the bed and told me to lie down beside her.
Well beyond shame or guilt, I eagerly took the offered place and stared at those magnificent ivory balloons. Rose-coloured areola a good two and a half inches in diameter seemed to hypnotize me, and the half inch nipples thrust out before me were an impossible temptation to resist. Nevertheless, I couldn’t move until she gave me permission. How I knew she was leading up to that, I have no idea.
Without saying a word, Mom grabbed my head in both her hands and pulled me to her breasts. That was all I needed. I wrapped my lips around her right tit and sucked like a man who hadn’t eaten in a year. Within seconds, I was rewarded with a rush of warm fluid that flooded my mouth. Yes! Yes! It was the milk I had craved for so long!
“Mmmmm, ummmmm,” I moaned around my mouthful of flesh and milk, unwilling and unable to stop. Maybe it was because I had been deprived so long, or maybe it was because it was so fresh. All I know is that her milk tasted even better than I remembered. Now completely devoid of ANY other feelings, I knew that I could be completely happy if I never left that tit again.
“Oooooohhh, that feels so goooood.” Holding me close, Mom began massaging her other tit with her free hand. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” she admitted, not caring if I was listening or not. Groaning and moaning with pleasure, she gently nudged me over to suckle at her other tit.
“You don’t know how hard it’s been to keep from relieving myself,” she gasped. “The pain is sometimes too much to bear, but I knew I had to save it all for you.” I had no idea what she was talking about, or why she’d kept her ambrosia bottled up, but I was in no condition to care. She was there, the milk was there, I was there—and my need was slowly being taken care of.
“Well now,” came a voice from somewhere behind me. “Looks like I won that little bet.” I should have been terrified by the sound of Dad’s voice, but wasn’t. Being caught doing something so wrong should have shamed me into bolting from the room and hurling myself down the stairs, but I just kept on sucking.
Mom’s only response was a soft laugh. “Guess that means you get first choice of holes.” Moaning, she replaced my hands with her own and began squeezing her tit, forcing out even MORE of her milk. “Ooohh, god, that feels fucking great!” Eyes clenched shut in pleasure, she asked Dad “Sure you don’t want a taste?” A lusty, teasing note to her voice, she gigged “I’ve got a free tit.”
Dad smiled as he watched me shift over to protect my second reservoir of motherly nectar. “Not in this lifetime,” he said, shaking his head. “The ordinary stuff would be bad enough, but after a week you’ve got to be potent enough to subdue a bloody football team.”
Again, something in the back of my head told me I should be listening, but I was too busy to care. I should have been worried by Dad’s statement, but it didn’t even register. All that mattered was keeping him away from my source.
“You may be right,” Mom told him, “But I’m not taking any chances.” Then, suddenly serious, she told him “I want this to work. We need this to work.”
“I know,” Dad whispered, “I know.”
After what seemed like forever—yet not long enough for me—Mom gently pushed me away and told me to rest. I don’t know how many gallons of fresh titmilk I’d downed, but I was still hungry for more. Nevertheless, I was tired, and I couldn’t find it in me to resist her suggestion. So, wearing a big smile, I closed and said “Thank you, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome, hon.” As she followed Dad out of the bedroom I heard her say something like “Nancy says to wait at least an hour,” but was asleep before I could hear Dad’s reply.
“Ohhhh . . . fuuucckkk . . .” Peeking out at the world through one half-opened eye, I found myself still in my parents’ bedroom. “What the hell happened?” Stretching my cramped, aching limbs, I winced as every inch of my body responded with signals of pain. “The last thing I remember is . . . oh shit! Please say that was all a dream.” Shaking, I ran a hand down my face. “I didn’t really suck Mom’s tits all night, did I?”
I was so groggy, I wasn’t sure WHAT I had done. All I knew was that it had sure left its mark on me. Looking down at my naked body, I could see that I was covered in cold, clammy sweat. Not that I needed to look—I positively reeked of it.
Crawling out of bed, I had to brace myself against the wall for a minute to keep from collapsing. I had the oddest taste in my mouth; my jaw was sore; my hands felt like they were suffering arthritis AND a bad case of carpal-tunnel syndrome; my legs were about as solid as a bowl of jelly; my cock felt like I’d just fucked a clump of steel wool; and I had to take an incredible shit. Whatever I’d done, I had to remember never to do it again.
Unable to go to the bathroom—despite painful sensations to the contrary—I tried to take a quick shower. What I ended up doing was sitting beneath the spray, my back wedged hard against the taps to keep me from falling over. The scalding water did wonders for my aching muscles, but I was so weak, the slightest attempt to clean myself would probably have ended in me drowning.
A half hour later, I stumbled into the kitchen, still dripping wet. Drying myself had proved to be a near impossible task, so I’d just given up on it. Barely even registering the presence of my parents, I ripped open the fridge door and grabbed for the waiting glass of milk. Gulping it down, I threw the glass in the sink—flinching at the sound of it shattering—and snatched a second from the fridge.
“How ya feelin’ son?” Dad asked, a smirk on his face.
I managed to respond with a half-shrug, collapsed into a chair, and greedily drained the second glass of milk. As my parents shared a knowing wink, my subconscious tried to tell me that wink was important, but I was too thirsty to care. All the signs were there—they had drugged and raped me—but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Or, strangely, to care.
Telling me to have a good day, the two of them headed out the door, on their way to . . . somewhere, I guessed. Where it was, I neither knew nor cared. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I DID care, but only insomuch as I needed to know when they’d be back. That was the last glass of milk, and while it had done wonders to revive me, I needed more.
“Hi, hon.” Naked, Mom strolled sexily into my bedroom, her bare feet whispering across the carpet. Raising her arms over her head in an exaggerated yawn, she brazenly thrust her tits out at me in open invitation.
Aroused—but frightened at the same time—I could only manage a hoarse “Hi.” In the past week I’d experienced agony, depression, guilt, shame and pure ecstasy—not necessarily in that order. While the agony and guilt still lingered, what I was feeling most as she laid down beside me was confusion.
Mom gently pulled me to her milk-laden tits and sighed. “Drink up, baby,” she urged, “It’s all for you.” I knew that I shouldn’t—and was terrified of what I suspected was to come later—but couldn’t help myself. Whimpering softly, I wrapped my lips around her nipple and sucked for all I was worth.
This time, I was only allowed enough to slake my thirst. Turning on the bedroom light, Dad cautioned “I think that’s enough, dear. If he’s to be properly conditioned, we can’t allow him to gorge himself again.”
“Ohhh, I knooowww,” Mom moaned. Reluctantly, she pushed me away. “But it feels so gooooddd,” she complained. “Nancy never told us about THAT part of it.” Again with this mysterious Nancy! Who was she and what did she have to do with this decidedly kinky twist to my life? What’s more, what had she said to make them deny me anything more than a taste of that while gold!
I tried to ask those very same questions, but found that I was completely paralysed. As Mom turned me on my back and propped my head up with the pillow, I began to panic, but was completely unable to move. I was fully aware of what was going on around me—all my senses seemed hyper-sensitive—but I may as well have been dead. Strangely, while I would have expected such a condition to terrify me, my moment of panic gave way to a sense of peace. A calm contentment.
“So, where should we start tonight?” Dad asked, sitting himself down on the opposite side of the bed. Seeing the two of them naked, and side by side, I realized Dad had changed as well. A little taller, a lot thinner, and he seemed to have regain some of that famous muscle tone that had won him a college football scholarship. He hadn’t changed nearly as much as Mom, but he WAS NOT the same man I remembered.
“Well . . .” Mom smiled, running her long red fingernails up and down my chest. “We already know how good he is at milking me.” Giggling, she suggested “Why don’t we let him milk you for a while?”
Dad laughed. “Fair enough.” Then, straddling my chest, he pulled down my jaw and shoved his limp dick between my lips.
“Wait!” Mom shrieked, ripping his cock from my mouth. “Like you said, we have to do this RIGHT.” Carefully closing my mouth, she reminded him “Nancy says we have to AKS him to please us. The initial submission must seem natural to him, not forced.”
“Fuck.” Dad pushed Mom’s hand away and stared down into my vacant eyes. “All right, Julian, I’m sorry I started without your permission.” Leaning forward a bit, he began stroking his cock over my face. Even in my strange state I was able to marvel at how huge the thing was—especially since I was powerless to do anything but watch. Hell, if he hadn’t inherited the family carpentry shop from Grandpa, Dad could have been a porn star—it was that huge.
“Mmmm, doesn’t that look good?” he asked. Running his hand up and down the full ten inches—his fingers a full inch from being able to touch on the underside—he groaned. “Oh, it’s so hard, son. Would you like to suck it? Would you like to suck Dad’s big, beautiful cock?” He was using a soft, deep voice that I’d only ever heard him use with Mom . . . and it was working. “Ohhhh, it sooo full of tasty cum.”
“Mmmmmm,” Mom added from beside me. “That’s a special treat, Julian. Your father’s cum is like fine champagne—it tastes wonderful and gets you horny at the same time.”
“Listen to your mother,” he told me, “SHE knows how good is it.” Then, smiling down at me, he winked. “But I’ve been saving this load just for you,” he promised. “Would you like to suck me, son? Would you let me feed you like Mom feeds you?”
That reference to Mom’s ambrosia seemed to be the key. Amazed, I felt my head lift up and my mouth open to accept his monstrous organ. Wrapping my lips tightly around the shaft, I let him fuck my mouth with slow, careful strokes while I tongued the underside. I’d never imagined I’d be doing anything like this before. I definitely wasn’t gay, and while I’d felt a shameful attraction to Mom lately, I assumed it was a hormonal thing—not some incestuous kink. Regardless, at that moment it felt like the most natural thing in the world, my only thought being to please my father.
More than that, I suddenly needed his cum almost as much as I needed Mom’s milk. There was a connection there—dammit, I could ALMOST understand—but I was in no condition to pursue it.
“Oh, shit,” he groaned, driving deeper and deeper into my mouth. Thanks to my calm, paralysed state, I was able to take all of him into my mouth without any discomfort. I should have been gagging and choking for breath, but wasn’t.
Kneeling beside the bed, Mom gasped in amazement. Laying her hand over my neck, she cried in amazement “He’s taking you halfway down his throat!” Looking down at my face, where Dad’s balls were currently resting against my chin, she told me “I am so proud of you, Julian.”
Praise from my mother only served to spur me on. By pleasing Dad, I could make her happy too. Hollowing my cheeks, I began sucking as hard as I could while growling deep in my throat. I don’t know how I knew to do what I was doing—but he seemed to like it.
“Shit! Here it fucking comes!” Bracing himself against the headboard of my bed, Dad pulled out of my throat just in time to fill my mouth with cum. As the first spurt exploded against the back of my mouth, I experienced the same feeling of ecstasy as when I suckled at Mom’s tits. A warm, pleasant glow seemed to spread throughout my body as I hungered for every precious drop. The next couple of spurts came so quickly I almost choked on the flood of hot, salty liquid but I soon learned to swallow between spurts. Finally, spent and exhausted, Dad withdrew and rolled away.
“Oooh, did you like that, hon?” Smiling, Mom wiped the last traces of cum from my cheeks and allowed me to suck her finger clean. “You looked so good with your father’s cock in your mouth. I’m VERY proud of you.”
Able now to move my head—but nothing else—I smiled and nodded. I should have been disgusted and ashamed, but instead I was filled with a warm feeling that I can’t describe. I was in love with everyone and everything; I adored my parents for the gifts they had shared with me; but mostly I was pleased that I could bring them so much pleasure.
Still breathing heavily, Dad commented “Seems Nancy’s magic dickjuice works just as well as her magic titjuice. I haven’t felt like this in twenty years, and I can’t even BEGIN to imagine what he’s feeling.”
Mom nodded her agreement. “Me neither.” Then, a wistful note in her voice, she added “But I’m tempted to try.”
“I know,” Dad told her, “But we can’t—you know that.” Leaning over to share a passionate liplock with his wife, he reminded her “Nancy’s done this all for Julian—finetuning it for HIS mind and HIS body. There’s no telling how it would affect us.”
Mom sighed. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that he looks so peaceful. I envy him.” Then, seeming to shake off whatever melancholy had possessed her, she grinned “Do you want to try the other end?”
“No thanks. I’m gonna need a while to recover.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Straddling my pelvis, Mom positioned her pussy above my erect cock and smiled. “Would you like to fuck me, Julian? Would you like to put your beautiful cock inside my warm, tight pussy?” Sensuously fingering her cunt, she waved her glistening fingers at me and wiped the juices across her tits. “See,” she moaned “I’m all hot and wet—just for you.”
“Damn, no man could refuse an invitation like that!” Dad laughed.
Ignoring him, Mom leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Would you like to fill me with your cum? Would you like to fill my pussy just like your father did the night you were conceived?”
Surprised at myself, I took her invitation and bucked my hips upward, thrusting the tip of my cock into her pussy. “Ooooh!” she cried, surprised. Recovering quickly, she lowered herself to match my thrusts, taking me deep inside her sex.
“Oh, fuck, that feels good!” Kneading her tits, Mom threw back her head and moaned in pleasure. “Oh, Julian, you are incredible. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck your mother with that stiff prick!”
I’d never had an incestuous thought in my life—outside of the confusing lust I’d felt for Mom’s new body—but that had all changed. With every thrust of my swollen cock into her moist, inviting pussy, I felt better and better. Each time I reached the hilt and felt my balls mash themselves against her pink lips, I was overcome with greater and greater waves of pleasure. I was still unable to move anything but my head and my hips, but didn’t care.
“Holy shit,” Dad whispered, amazed. “Where the hell does he find so much energy? I swear, a dozen or so thrusts like that and I’d been finished.”
“Fuck! You ask too many questions!” Mom cried, nearing her climax. Shrieking in ecstasy each time we slammed together, then crying out in frustration each time we pulled apart, it was a wonder she wasn’t hoarse. Finally, the magic moment arrived and, with a final thrust downward, she came, spasming around my cock.
“Aaaaiiiieee! Yesss! Yessss! Oh fuck oh shit . . . YESSSS!” As wave after wave of the pounding orgasm racked her body, Mom sobbed in pleasure, unable to stop. Spurred on by her cries and the incredible pressure around my dick, I came as well, flooding her pussy with my seed. That, in turn, triggered another round of orgasms for her.
Eventually, we both finished and Mom collapsed on top of me, a grin threatening to split her face from ear to ear. “That was magnificent,” she told me, dragging her nails down my chest. Licking at the drops of blood she had drawn, she sighed “Why did we wait so long?”
If Dad was surprised to find that her lust for me wasn’t a recent development, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gently pulled her from me and kissed her passionately. Outside, I was still all-but paralysed, but inside I was aflame with pleasure. They had given me so much over the years, I was overjoyed that I had been able to repay them. Although I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly, I had only one wish for us all—that the night would never, ever end.
“You ready for the next step?” Mom asked, breaking away from Dad’s lips. “I think our little boy is.”
Dad shook his head in disappointment. “I wish I was, but he’s just too good. It’s going to be a while before I’m hard again.”
Smiling, Mom playfully batted at his limp prick. “I kind of figured that, so I filled up D.D. this morning.”
“You wanna use Deep Diver on him?” Dad asked, shocked. A mixture of pity, arousal and curiosity in his eyes, he whistled softly. “I hope he can take it.”
Already out the door, Mom called back “Give him a little credit! Julian hasn’t disappointed us yet!” Watching her leave, I felt a crushing fear she wouldn’t return. Dad’s presence was a comfort, but she seemed to be the key to my whole bizarre predicament.
A few minutes later, to my relief, Mom rushed back into my room, her hands hidden behind her. Literally leaping atop me, she straddled my chest and grinned. “Julian, your father and I want to share our very favourite toy with you. Would you like that? Would you like us to play with you?”
Grateful for the freedom to move my head, I nodded vigorously. I had no idea what she was talking about, but if she wanted it then I wanted it.
Kneeling on the floor beside us, Dad commented “He seems eager.”
“Yes, but he has to know what he’s saying ‘yes’ to,” Mom reminded him. Then, still smiling, she revealed her hidden treasure. Clasped in both hands was a gigantic black dildo that put even Dad’s cock to shame. If it hadn’t been made of plastic, I’d have sworn it was a fucking torpedo.
“This is Deep Diver,” Mom explained, affectionately stroking its length. “Your father likes to fuck me with it when his cock’s too tired or when I want both holes filled.” Slowly, almost hypnotically, she waved it back and forth in front of my face. “Do you like it?” she asked. “Would you like Mommy and Daddy to fuck your ass with it?”
“I admit, this could be fun,” Dad whispered, “But how will it help his conditioning?”
Directing her reply to me, Mom cooed “This is a very, very special dildo.” Carefully kissing its tip—no tongue, just lips—she explained. “I filled it with your father’s cum this morning, so I can shoot it in your ass when we’re done. Would you like that? Would you like Mommy to fill your ass with her toy AND Daddy’s sperm?”
In reply I arched my back and threw my hips up into the air, giving her access to my ass. Again, I don’t know what made me do it, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This was a gift from the two of them, which made it even more special.
“Fantastic!” Squealing in glee, Mom knelt between my legs and smiled. “Let me just get it ready for you.” With that, she plunged the big black dildo into her sloppy pussy, twisting and turning it inside her. When she finally pulled it back out, it was glistening with a combination of her pussy juices and my own cum.
“Get ready, hon,” she grinned. Placing the tip of the monster against my puckered little asshole, she began pushing it inside me. Slowly, a millimetre at a time, she forced the well-lubed plastic cock up my ass, encountering only minimal resistance. I had expected it to hurt—especially with a dildo that size—but was taking it like a pro. Luckily, the mysterious paralysis I was under left me relaxed and unable to resist.
It took a lot of work on Mom’s part, but I managed to take it all. The black beauty had stretched me to the limit, filling me with its hard, unyielding plastic. To my surprise, I liked the feeling. I’d always shied away from anal sex with my girlfriends, finding the invasion of even their fingertips uncomfortable, but this was different. This was my parents’ toy, lovingly inserted by my mother, and carrying my father’s own special sauce.
“While he’s adjusting, why don’t we share?” Dad asked.
“Mmm, sounds good.” Nodding Mom turned around so that she was kneeling beside me, while Dad did the same on the opposite side.
“Julian,” Dad said, “Your mother and I want to share what you’re feeling.”
“Honey,” Mom asked, “Would you please finger-fuck our asses? It’s a lot of fun and it feels really good.” Smiling back over her shoulder, she told me “And there’s nothing better than making the people you love feel good.”
How could I refuse? Raising my arms, I licked my fingers and penetrated each of them with an index finger. The instant I was inside them, my own ass began to throb with a pleasant, arousing regularity. Mom had been right—I was making THEM feel good, and that was making ME feel good.
“Ahhh, that’s it son,” Dad groaned. “Feel free to use two fingers.”
“Ooohh!” Mom squealed in delight as my middle finger joined its partner inside her. Reaching between my legs, she grabbed the dildo and slowly pulled it out until just the head was inside. Then, matching the speed of my finger fucking, she began plunging the black monster in and out of my gaping hole. It was a forbidden pleasure I had never imagined possible, and I loved her for sharing it with me.
“Ssshhhiiitttt!” Groaning, Dad asked “J-Julian, can I have another finger?”
Mom was quick to echo his sentiments “Mmm, me too.”
By the time they asked for a fourth finger, it was clear none of us were going to last much longer. Panting loudly, Mom turned on the vibrating feature of the dildo, skipping straight to high-speed. That introduced another element to my exquisite ecstasy, and I began fucking them faster, wanting to repay them for their generous gifts.
“Oh, honey, finish him, please,” Dad begged. “I-I can’t take much more.”
“Spoil sport,” Mom pouted. But, chuckling softly, she placed both hands on the dildo, fumbling for the hidden switch. “Here it comes, baby,” she promised, “Here comes Daddy’s special treat!” As Dad’s day old cum began flooding my ass, I actually groaned in delight. It was the first sound I had made since falling under their spell, and it seemed to spook them.
“Looks like this is it for tonight,” Dad gasped.
“Shh! Just let him enjoy it,” Mom snapped.
Enjoy it, I did. It felt like my whole body was on fire, but it was a good kind of fire. An intense, magical orgasm was flooding my body, stimulating every square inch of my skin, every pore, and every hair. I had no idea what had been done to me to cause such sensations, but I knew I never wanted it to stop.
Eventually, though, it did come to an end. The dildo slipped out of me with a wet, sloppy splotch, and my fingers soon followed. Thanking me for making them feel so good, Mom and Dad began dipping their fingers into my ass, scooping out glob after glob of cum. Laughing, they smeared it across the other’s face until they each were wearing a glistening mask.
“Uh-oh,” Mom giggled. “Now we’re all messy.” Leaning down, her lips tasting of Dad’s old cum, she kissed me passionately. “Would you please clean us up?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to lick off all my delicious cum?” Placing his head next to hers, Dad told me “We’d really like it if you would.”
That was all I needed. Raising my head, I licked their faces clean, swallowing every drop of cum. It still tasted as sweet as when he had exploded in my mouth, and I still got the same pleasure from knowing I had made them feel good, but I was growing tired. Feeling the last dollop of semen slide down my throat, I fell back onto the pillow and closed my eyes.
“Shit, I still can’t believe this is all working.” Slipping off the bed, Dad wiggled the sheets out from beneath me.
“Shh.” As Mom helped him to cover my naked, sweaty body, she whispered “I just hope it’s all worth it. Help like this doesn’t come cheap.”
Again, I sensed that something important was being said, but just couldn’t concentrate. My body wanted sleep—needed it more than at any other time in my life—and fighting to stay away only made it worse. The real problem, though, was that I didn’t WANT to fight.
In the end, my body won out—as it had so many times before. The last thing I remembered was the door clicking shit, and then . . . nothing but the darkness of a deep, dreamless sleep.