“Yes, he should,” I sent.
I had another text message. It was from Mrs. Donovan, another MILF I had fucked that first day. I enjoyed her before her son, my friend Carl. It was just a picture of a pregnancy test. A positive one.
“Fuck,” I muttered and texted. “Mine?”
She answered with a winky emoji.
“Damn,” I groaned. Three MILFs bred.
Then Mrs. Lemon burst out of the bathroom looking ecstatic but Donna had a dejected scowl on her lips. The MILF rushed to me and threw her arms around me. She kissed me with such passion. Her tongue thrust nearly to my tonsils.
“Well, you bred one of us,” Donna said.
I broke the kiss with her excited mother. “Sorry.”
“Well, it just means we have to keep trying.” Donna grinned. “I want to be bred young. I want to have your children. At least one son and a daughter.”
I grinned at her. “Deal.”
“So, we better get practicing,” she said. “You did fire in my asshole. That’s not going to help.”
* * *
Later that day, I came home to tell my mother the big news only to find her rushing up to me and hugging me tight. I assumed she had heard about some of the MILFs I had bread today, if not Mrs. Lemon, but that wasn’t it.
“I’m winning an award from M. I. L. F. S.!” she squealed. “The ‘Most Successful Activist’ award for my work at your college!”
“Congrats, Mom!” I said, grinning at her. “When is it?”
“Well, not for a few months. I’ll probably be showing by then. Ooh, this is so exciting!” Then she grinned. “And I hear you’ve bred three MILFs.”
“Oh, you heard about Mrs. Lemon?” I asked.
“No, no, the president of your college. She’s got a bun in the oven, too.” Then Mom blinked. “So it’s four MILFs, hun. Mmm, my son is a stud. Come on. We have to celebrate!”
God, I loved this new world. I would be a mama’s boy until the day I died.
Mind-Controlled Son’s Proud Mama
Four months ago, my mom had been told she’d won an award from M. I. L. F. S. Tonight was the night she’d receive ‘Most Successful Activist.’ Mom had been killing it with handing out pamphlets to the local colleges.
She’d been helping guys my age know that it was cool to fuck their moms.
A lot of prejudices had to be overcome. Youthful rebellion had to be redirected. Now happy mothers were getting plowed by their young sons. Getting fucked hard and bred. It was so great to hear that all those other guys were learning the joys of being a mama’s boy.
I know I loved being mind-controlled into one.
I fidgeted downstairs. I was wearing a tux for the first time. A rental. The bow tie felt too tight. I kept adjusting the jacket. It was strange to wear something so formal. I was nervous, too. Nervous. I wasn’t the one winning the award, but butterflies were fluttering around in my stomach.
Dad was in a tux, too. He wore it way too easily. Even with his balding head, he looked sharp in it. Suave. I guessed tuxedos made any guy looked ten times sharper or something. He had polished his shoes until you could see your face in them. A cop now, but he had done a stint in the army when he was eighteen.
The stairs creaked. Mom descended.
Dad and I both shot our gazes to the stairs. The flutters increased in my stomach. Her legs appeared, in heels, calves in dark nylons. The skirt of her black dress appeared. It had a shimmer to it, the fabric dark and yet reflective all at the same time. It was slit up her left leg, revealing that she had on thigh-high stockings. Her round stomach appeared.
Five months pregnant with my son, she had a fertile curve to her belly that was always exciting to behold, but in her elegant evening gown, it looked stunning. Her hand gripped the railing, a diamond bracelet that Dad bought for her birthday last month gleaming. The dress cupped her breasts. They bounced and jiggled. Another diamond necklace draped down into her cleavage. Her brown hair had a glossy sheen to it, styled into a lovely mass than three hours at the hair salon today had given her. She wore a radiant smile. A pregnant queen descending to visit us peasants.
“Damn, Mom,” I croaked, staring at how gorgeous she was. My cock lurched in my pants as she smiled and sauntered to me. Those big boobs of hers bounced and jiggled. “You look amazing.”
“Just gorgeous, Rita,” Dad said, his voice in awe. “Wow. Dynamite.”
“Oh, boys,” Mom gasped, her cheeks going bright red. “Really? It’s not too much?”
“No, no you look fantastic, Rita. Just fantastic.” Dad nodded, a big grin on his face.
“You’re perfect, Mom,” I said, moving to her. I held out my hands and took hers. I squeezed them, staring into her eyes. “Just so wonderful.”
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I groaned, feeling her pregnant belly rubbing into my stomach. The waxy coating of her lipstick felt amazing, a sort of buttery softness. She closed her eyes, groaning. Out of the corner of my eye, Dad pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.
Mom broke the kiss and took my arm, snuggling against me. She smiled at her husband who took more pics of us. He was so happy for us. Poor guy wasn’t getting any, either. I knew that Mrs. Lemon, my girlfriend’s pregnant mother, had sex with her husband. Most women didn’t just stop fucking their husbands, often having threesomes with their son and spouse.
But Mom…
Mom didn’t have any interest in Dad. She just wanted me. I bet that was the magic of the belt. It wanted us to be in a relationship. Changed the whole fucking world so I would be her lover. Her mama’s boy. I would do anything to make her happy.
And if that was pounding her pregnant pussy hard, then I would do it.
“You two look great,” Dad said, so accepting of our new family life. He had moved out of the master bedroom into mine. That was where I slept, even on a school night now. Mom just made sure we weren’t up all night fucking.
That was for the weekend. Often with Donna in the mix. Sometimes, Donna’s mother would come for a foursome, but with both MILFs pregnancies progressing so far, that wasn’t happening as much. I still had no joy in knocking up my girlfriend, but we tried as much as we could.
A knock rapped on the door. “Limo for Mrs. Reynolds.”
“It’s here!” Mom squealed, sounding so girlish. A big smile spread on her lips. M. I. L. F. S. had sent us a limo. It was so elegant. I couldn’t believe it. We were heading up to a hotel in Seattle. The Red Lion. We would be spending the night.
It wouldn’t be the first time Dad saw me nailing Mom. I knew he’d be in the other bed as we enjoyed ourselves tonight. It was just the way our family worked now. I had long accepted this new world. I was just the only one who remembered the old one.
Sometimes, I thought I was the crazy one for even thinking the world hadn’t been this way. Like the belt that was up in my room had gas-lit me into thinking that the old place was all in my imagination and the world had always been for mothers fucking their sons.
There were even bible verses. I was pretty sure one of the Ten Commandments didn’t say for ‘Sons shall honor and obey their Fathers and shall lie with and obey their Mothers.’ But I had read it in Exodus 20:12 myself.
Dad opened the door to the chauffeur who smiled at us. We had a forty-five-minute drive to the hotel if there was no traffic. It was late Saturday afternoon. There might be traffic. But we had a buffer. The event started at 7:00 PM. So we should make it in time.
“I’ve never ridden in a limo,” I said as I escorted Mom down the driveway, the chauffeur hurrying to the limo to open the back door for us.
“Oh, I did once,” Mom said. “Me and my friends rented one for our prom. I went with Billy Sullivan. He took my virginity that night.”
“I don’t need to hear about you and some other guy my age,” I groaned.
“Oh you have nothing to fear. He was a terrible lover. Your father’s better than him, and you are far, far better than your father.” Mom snuggled tight. “Of the five men I’ve had, you’re better than all of them combined.”
I smiled at that. I was a stud.
I helped Mom into the limo. She slid onto the seat and rubbed at her belly. I went in after her, looking around. Two padded benches faced each other. Dad sat opposite us. In a holder built into the side of the limo was a bottle of sparkling cider. No champagne, Mom was pregnant.
The cork was popped and dad poured us all glasses. We were smiling and laughing and sipping that the carbonated cider. It was good. I felt giddy, and Mom was squirming, her head whipping about as we headed out. It was like we were going on an adventure.
It was so stirring. I loved it.
“I can’t believe I’m winning an award,” Mom said about thirty minutes later as we were driving down I-5, the world getting darker and darker, night falling. “Me!”
“You got every guy at my college who had a mother still living with them to fuck them,” I said. “Hell, most of the girls who don’t have brothers found boyfriends to fuck their mothers.”
“Mmm, that’s so cute,” Mom said. “Like you and Donna. Mrs. Lemon is so wonderful. She’s so eager to have your son and for you to breed her daughter. She’s getting worried.”
“She’s not a mother,” I muttered. “I bet if she was a mother, I’d breed her right away.”
“So you have to make her into one,” Mom said. “Just pump her womb full of all that baby-making spunk in your cute balls.”
“I’m trying, Mom,” I said. “Believe me. Donna and I go at it hot and heavy whenever we can.”
“I know.” Mom smiled. “I’m often sitting on her face. Mmm, she’s got a wonderful tongue.”
My dick throbbed picturing the last time, Mom’s pregnant belly curving down to her pussy, Donna’s chin moving as she feasted on her while I pumped my cock in and out of my girlfriend’s tight snatch. Mom’s big boobs heaved, her face twisting with delight.
Mom slid her hand up my slacks until she brushed my bulge. She massaged me. She squeezed and played with me. I groaned at her touch. My heart racing. She groped me. It felt so wild. A smile spread on my lips as she massaged my dick.
Then she slid off the benched. I blinked as she moved on her knees before me with care, her pregnant belly swaying. She parted my thighs. Dad watched us. He pulled out his phone and aimed it at us. A light turned on. He was recording this? Damn.
“Mom?” I asked as she slid her hands up my slacks to reach my crotch bulging with my hardon.
“Mmm, I just need one more thing to be perfect for the presentation,” she said. “A new trend I read about in Cosmopolitan that mothers are doing with their sons. So bold.”
“Blowjobs?” I asked as she unfastened then unzipped my slacks. She pulled them open to reveal the boxers I wore. They had “Mama’s Boy” written on them with red hearts beside them. She had bought them for me last month.
“Ooh, honey,” she gushed and beamed at me. Her dimples shone. “You wore these ones?”
“It’s your special night,” I said, squirming with embarrassment. “Thought you’d like me in them.”
“I love that you’re in them,” she cooed.
A big grin split her lips as she tugged on my pants. They slipped on my hips. I lifted them, my cock throbbing. They formed quite a tent. My heart pounded as she ran her hands over my bulge. She tugged down my boxers next. Just enough to pull my cock out.
She purred as she did. Her hand gripped my cock. I throbbed in her grip. My heartbeat pulsed up my shaft as her warm hand pumped up and down them. Dad shifted down the bench to capture what Mom was doing to my cock.