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From: thedisciplen@yahoo.com (DiscipleN)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 12 Jan 2002 05:52:58 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Natural Mom's Organic Son (1/?) [slow,inc,m/F, M/F, cuck, breast]
Date: Sat, 12 Jan 2002 23:10:04 -0500
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The following is a work of FICTION.

Natural Mom's Organic Son
by DiscipleN

Copyright (c) 2002, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved.
This work may not be used for any commercial purposes without prior,
documented consent from the owner.

Chapter 1

My husband, Melvin Gulderson, licked his lips not wanting to waste a
drop of pussy juice.
"How was that Natalie? I told you I had a surprise for you. Did you
like it?"
"Dear," I replied, "that was a moment I'll always treasure. I'm so
glad you talked me into it. Someday I hope I can surprise you as much
or more!" The sincerity in my voice barely avoided the pit of irony
which I had been slowly dragged into. I love my husband, but he was
terribly naive and already had begun to suffer for it.
During the first two years of our marriage, dolphins couldn't have
mated often enough to satisfy us. But reality found it's bullseye, and
I was shot in the womb with a number one son.
Even pregnant I still enjoyed regular sex with Melvin, but the pace
slowed with the physical problems of hauling an extra thirty pounds
around my center of gravity.
After the delivery, I was much more sore than I had been led to
believe. My girlfriends just gushed about how modern women literally
could jump back into the sack with the mate after every feeding. (You
know, all that sucking makes you so horny.) Tell it to the wind. My
first son was a beast. He would grind his gums into my nipples so
hard, I threatened to bottle feed him.
Dear, stupid Melvin begged me to stay the course because of all the
natural benefits of breast feeding. And true to the pop-psychology
researchers in child development, my son Clifford grew up to be a
strong and healthy beast.
That's right, I said MY son. He didn't spend a moment with Melvin when
he wasn't screaming. My poor man was willing and eager to help with
all the chores of baby rearing that would have left most men cowering
in their den with TV remotes. His child never gave him a chance.
Whenever he showed his admittedly plain face around Clifford, if I
wasn't nearby and holding him, the entire neighborhood would become
convinced that serial killers had descended en-masse on the Gulderson
household.
I suppose I was partly to blame. My heart went out to my son first and
then my husband. Isn't a mother suppose to protect and soothe her
children? I know I showered little Cliff with too much affection. I
discovered early on the quickest way to silence the lad was to open my
blouse. That boy just loved tit - much to my despair, especially after
he began sporting a perfect set of teeth. (Mother's milk is great for
teeth!) His screaming would transfer to me, through my breast, but I
was the adult and had to suffer the pain of his chewing in silence.
Melvin said, the doctors said, all the magazines said,
every-bloody-body said to breast feed as long as the child wanted,
even into late adolescence. It was nature's way, and science had
proved over and over how they could duplicate the form, but rarely the
function. I believed it. I also believed that as Clifford grew, he'd
learn to prefer solid food.
Going into Clifford's sixth year, I stopped wearing bras. Clifford ate
his meals from a plate but never slacked his demands at my flowing
milk. Right after dinner, his dinner. He'd shout "Meelk, Meelk!", over
and over. I'd have to bear tit in the middle of my own meal to shut
him up, regardless of who we might be entertaining. If mommy dared to
find a moment of peace, even as far away as the other side of the
room, Clifford would crawl right over and climb up. Buttons would snap
off at his strong groping, and I'd be required for immediate service.
Thank heavens I was able to teach him to stop tearing at my nipples by
the time he was four!
During those years I was less than an ideal lover to Melvin. Having
another needy man climbing on my body was often more than I could
stand. I warned Melvin that we should constrain our son from the tit,
but he shrugged and said, he expected to make sacrifices for the
proper rearing of our children.
The other problem was that Melvin and I wanted more than one child,
and we had wanted them close in years of age, but nature played by
it's own rules. You see, breast feeding is a natural form of birth
control. It stimulates hormones that delays ovulation much like the
pill. I often wondered if Clifford didn't instinctively know this and
persisted at his sucking regimen to deny any potential competitor from
my arms and my chest.
Clifford wasn't quite nine, when his father finally put his foot down.
"Now, I want you to know that this has nothing to do with punishing
you. I love you son, but Mommy can't be nursing you whenever you want.
What would your friends at school say if they found out? They stopped
nursing years ago. You're growing up, and soon you'll be a man. You're
already a man in your dad's eye, but maybe not yet old enough to drive
the car, eh?" Melvin always tried to put a happy face on things.
Clifford's reaction was a hundred percent predictable. He screamed.
"It's isn't fair! It's isn't fair! It's isn't fair!", and so on.
Melvin and I stood up to him that day, even after he had lost his
voice from screaming and finally sank into a deep sulk.
That night, Melvin and I fucked like new bunnies. I truly love my
husband and don't consider his rather un-macho personality to be
anything less than completely adorable!
The next day, after a surprising realization, I asked my doctor to put
me on the pill. I wasn't sure I wanted to be pregnant right away,
after finally escaping from Clifford's clutches. I wanted some
downtime.
I didn't get much.
Clifford never did bond with  his father. Melvin would take him out to
ball games, on short camping trips, fishing, offer to play with him
anytime, but the boy rebuffed every attempt. My poor husband was given
only a pouty silence and no cooperation for all his earnest fathering.
We would hire babysitters. So we could go on our own romantic
interludes, usually to be interrupted by some emergency back home.
Clifford tried to suck his babysitter's tits. Clifford had tricked the
sitter and locked her outside of the house. Clifford set the sitter's
purse on fire. Clifford went through babysitters faster than he had
gone through diapers. Eventually, nobody was left, except me.
Thinking back upon all my misery since then, I realize it was still,
largely my fault. I just couldn't handle that kid's energy. When he
was with me, I was his whole world. He would make presents for me,
string wrapped around paper, bound into funny animal shapes he copied
from cookies. He would read stories with me and was a fast learner.
(Mother's milk is great for early neurological development!) He would
share his toys and even pick them up and put them away properly, as
long as I was with him. He never brought friends home from school. His
grades were passing to good. Clifford was even willing to chill around
his father, as long as the distance between mom and him was shorter
than the distance between him and Melvin. The three of us could
actually have occasional fun together.
We all might have turned out quite well, as a family, if I hadn't gone
and made one, unforgivable mistake. You see, secretly, when Melvin was
out of the house, Clifford would still try and suck on my tits. It
didn't matter that they had stopped offering milk. He was passionate
for them!
I tried, honestly I did. I barred the gates from his desire for more
than a year after Melvin's ultimatum. The boy's requests waned, but
they never stopped completely.
My downfall occurred, by my own measure, on a weekend during
Clifford's tenth year. Melvin was out of town on business, and my son
and I spent the whole weekend running around town shopping for
clothes. It had started out as a banner year in the Gulderson's
household, and Clifford had mostly grown out of his previous year's
wardrobe.
His body was amazing! It exploded like a weed, a tough one, impervious
to pesticides too. (Once, he had found a bottle of it under the sink
and had gulped down a mouthful. We didn't even have to take him to the
hospital. He threw it up right away and wasn't bothered with aught but
a tummy ache and skipped two meals.) Nutritionists would have made him
the poster child of natural nursing.
My girlfriends all looked at my ten year old boy and wondered when he
was going to start college. I bought him two sizes of everything,
worried that he might outgrow the first before we got home. I was also
worried that we might not have the extra money to splurge on so many
clothes again. The reason Melvin was working out of town over the
weekend was because his company had begun to feel a new pinch in the
local economy.
I was exhausted by Sunday's end. Melvin wouldn't arrive until the next
day, and after stowing all the new purchases, with Clifford's help, I
staggered into my bedroom and collapsed on top of that peaceful
harbor.
My mind found it's own peace in a very pleasant dream, where Melvin
was shaking the bed, but this Melvin was six feet tall and built like
a lumberjack. He was my MAN! Very gently he pulled on my dress and
tugged the top over my shoulders. I still wasn't wearing bras. (I
secretly hoped my breasts would sag so much my obsessed child might
loose his desire through pure disgust. Unfortunately, my son got his
toned physique from his mother.)
I mewled and cooed seductively as Melvin touched one breast and then
the other. He pawed them softly and sequentially rolled them under his
palm. By the time he started sucking, I was ready for him to tear off
the rest of my dress.
"Fuck me, oh why don't you fuck me!" I said in my dream, but my manly
Melvin was taking his time. He sucked my nipples like they were the
sweetest fruits. I wanted to pull up the hem of my dress and show him
where to really please me, but my arms lay useless at my sides. The
best sensation I could manage in my flowing pussy was to grind my
loins together. I wriggled and writhed like a slut in the winning
team's locker room.
My dream was dashed into glass shards when Melvin suddenly bit down
hard into my nipples. I shouted out and convulsed myself awake. My
forehead was soaked in sweat, and my cunt shook from a cruelly induced
orgasm. My senses reeled, and I opened my eyes, and there was Clifford
scrambling away.
Clifford was by no means six foot tall nor built like a lumberjack,
and his resemblance to his father never did gain beyond a few hints
around the ears. Only when he whined did he match his father's rare
complaint.
"I didn't do nothing. I didn't do nothing!"
I watched him race out of the room. I was just tired enough to let it
go, but there is no rest for the weary who raise Clifford. I struggled
up, still buzzed from my little cum and got to my feet. If the boy's
room had been in the opposite corner of the house, I might never have
got there. The bathroom was the only barrier Melvin and I had to
protect us from his boisterous play in his room.
I caught myself from falling at his doorway, which he hadn't closed. I
found him facing away, curled up on his bunk bed, an obsolete symbol
of optimism for our family's future growth.
"Let's just forget about it Cliffod. Mommy's going to lock herself in
her room and get some sleep. Don't burn anything down until morning,
all right? I'll see you then." That was all I said.
I turned back and started to walk myself along the wall.
He asked a question.
"Mommy, what is 'fuck'?"
Without thinking, I replied. "It has to do with sex, honey. Now don't
say that word ever again, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap." I
imagined I was being fierce, but in my delirious state, who knows how
the kid received it.
I continued successfully to my room. I even managed to work the lock.
I looked forward to a bright morning, energy once again flowing
through my body, ready to guard America and the rest of the world from
the evil of my son.
The new day dawned. I noticed traces of my husband who must have
arrived home earlier that morning. The fact gave me a bright start to
my day. I luxuriated in the tub, moisturizing and scenting my body,
all the long while, planning to kidnap my husband and lock my son in
the cellar for the remainder.
I found them, uncharacteristically together in the living room,
apparently sharing a father and son chat. I was amazed. Then I was
horrified.
"...and eventually the erect penis, through gentle thrusting and true
love for your partner cause you to ejaculate sperm into her uterus
where just one of their wriggling, minuscule cells is soaked up by the
egg and begins a new, human life."
Melvin was even using the psychologist approved picture book we had
bought several years ago in the eventuality of our son's important
education. I almost fainted.
"Golly dad, That's awesome!"
"Son, I'm honored to have been the one who could answer your
question." Melvin tried a fatherly tossle of his son's wild hair, but
Clifford ducked it and was the first to notice me standing in the
hallway. My jaw dangled like a dead cat.
Clifford froze at the sight of me. His eyes held the only hint of
powerful forces marshaling in his head. They were radioactive with
curiosity.
Melvin followed his son's gaze and smiled warmly at me. "Honey, I
think we might be seeing a new change in our son's personality." He
got up from the couch and hugged me warmly. I don't think I said
anything, but I did manage to close my trap. I might have
sub-vocalized, "Oh shit!"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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