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From: thedisciplen@yahoo.com (DiscipleN)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 2 Jul 2003 03:34:21 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} I'll be a Mommy's Uncle! [3/6] (Fm,Ff,ff,incest, mom, son, role reversal)
Date: Wed,  2 Jul 2003 08:10:03 -0400
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I'll be a Mommy's Uncle!  (3/6)

by DiscipleN
Copyright (c) 2003, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved.

Multiple codes represent the characters' gender quandaries. Otherwise,
the story is a slow strip tease for incestuous, power transgression
fans.

--------------------------

--- 3 ---

Two weeks later, I made a final, half hearted attempt. I walked out of
my morning shower, towel firmly gripped around my waist, and up to my
mother's bedroom door.

"Mom, do you have any clothes for me?" I asked across that most
evocative of barriers.

"Just a second, Calvin." Mother answered.

I waited. 

She opened the door, freshly dressed and stood in the doorway empty
handed.

I tried to not stare at her. She was not staring at me but was simply
looking at her son with a calm expression on her face. Her hands
reached up to her neck and she unfastened the first button.

I stood in utter fascination, immobile, nearly slack-jawed as my
mother peeled her dress from her incredible body. This time skirt
followed blouse and before I could pinch myself she handed me both,
stark naked but for black stockings, white girdle, and cream colored
brassier. For a kid like me it was as stark naked as I was standing in
front of her wearing one towel. Fortunately this time, when I took her
things, I used them to block her curious glance at my loins. A tent
had formed there about the time she'd released her middle buttons.

Apparently pleased with her success, she turned away and retired into
her room, shutting the door behind her.

I walked like a zombie to my room where I recovered enough sense to
drop her clothes, discard the towel and grab my aching prick! I blew
several wads into the towel and collapsed on my bed. When I finally
escaped my room, I was wearing both of my mother's clean things,
struggling to keep from tripping over the oversized skirt. I tied it
in a knot to keep it on my waist, and the blouse was tucked in firmly,
stretching flat its slackness wherever it would.

I found mom in the kitchen, sitting at the table. She was wearing only
her bra, girdle, and stockings.

"Good morning, mommy." She greeted me. I immediately sensed her
unease. I didn't know it at the time, but we weren't we playing my
game anymore. I was playing her's.

"Uh, hi." I returned awkwardly.

"I made my bed this morning and washed and even brushed my teeth. I
hung the towels up to dry, and I filled the washer with my dirty
clothes." She informed me in a meek, girl's voice.

"That's uh, real nice, eh, dear." I tried.

"What should I do now, m-mommy?" Her speech quickly degenerated.

What the heck was going on? I didn't know what to say. If I hadn't
just jacked off three times, I might have tried to get more of her
clothes, but I must have been blessed that day.

"Maybe you'd better go study your lessons." I suggested. It was what
mother always told me to do when I had failed to occupy myself
sufficiently. The mistake I made was, my mother wasn't taking any
classes.

She surprised me then.

We have a piano in our house. It's an old wooden upright, made cheaply
in its time but is probably somewhat valuable as an antique. It was
never tuned nor played as far as I knew, but it made a great shelf for
ceramic knickknacks. My mother rose from the table and went into the
living room. After overcoming no little worry about my mom, I followed
her.

She removed everything from the keyboard cover and folded it back,
exposing yellowed and black faux ivory. Then she lifted the lid on the
bench seat and produced an even older looking sheet of music from the
bench's contents. I didn't have to look at the sheet to know what it
said. I was a kid and peeked into the bench seat regularly. That music
was titled, 'The Merry-Widow Waltz'.

I didn't know my mother could play the piano. When she began, she was
sitting on the bench, posture perfect, striking keys and beating time
very much like the score intended. Soft and melodic, her music caught
me more than by surprise, it caught me like a mercy trap meant for
small animals. I'd walked right into it, and the entrance had shut
delicately behind me.  For the rest of the morning I listened to my
scantily clad mother relearn how to play the piano.

Eventually she looked up at the clock and said sweetly. "I'm hungry."

I wouldn't have known noon from sunset. While I originally wanted to
just stare at her gorgeous, naked figure, I became entranced by beauty
unexpected. I failed to answer her. Her music still danced in my head.

When I didn't reply, she told me in her full, adult voice, "Calvin,
maybe you'd better take those clothes off."

Round ten: no contest.


The day left me with a lot to think about and several reliable
hard-ons that blew geysers. All this time I thought I had been really
clever, lucky, and downright evil. But now, everything was changed. I
wasn't stripping my mother so much as she was transforming both of us.
Outside of having dressed me in her clothes and act like a little
girl, mother remained the same. We went to church, she ironed my
stupid white shirts, and I felt trapped in a childhood without much
joy other than jacking off and now trying to figure out when I could
get mother to disrobe again.

My next chance occurred sooner than later. Not quite a week after
mother played the piano, I brought up the subject.

"Mom, would you play the piano for me?"

"Absolutely not, Calvin. Music is a vehicle of the Devil's will." It
was like she had never played. Therefore, I followed a child's logic.

"Can I wear your clothes again?"

"Why would you want to do that?" She asked indignantly.

"Uh, so I could be the mommy?"

She didn't say anything after that. She gave me a curious look then
scanned down the length of her black dress and returned her eyes to
me.

"Did you mean these clothes?" She gave a nod indicating her luscious
body.

"Yes, mommy."

"Ask me again, a little later."  And that was that.

Round... heck that wasn't a round. It was an intermission.


The next day I asked her again. We were playing a game of scrabble at
the kitchen table.

"Mom, what's that thing you wear under your blouse?"

"It's my bra, Calvin." Mother always answered a straight question. You
just had to be careful about what question to ask. Once I'd asked her
about masturbation. She looked me in the eye and told me it was a one
way ticket to hell. My dad was still alive to console me back then,
and afterward I never asked mom another question about sex.

She placed a new word on the board. "'Suffrage', double word score,
thirty two points.

"Can I wear your bra?"

Mother finished writing down her score. She was about a hundred points
ahead of me. She looked up and asked, "You want to wear this one?" She
pointed offhandedly at her chest.

"Yes mommy, very much so." My heart raced at the thought she might
take it off in front of me. I again had rushed her.

"Uh, let's finish the game, okay?" Her voice seemed to falter from its
usual precision confidence.

So we did. We finished the game. She beat me by a hundred and fifty
points, and she congratulated me on how high a score I'd earned. She
kept track of my game points after every game so I could see my
improvement over time. It was a lesson I wish I had learned around
that time. I wasn't playing a game against my mother. I was playing it
against myself. Mother had a private reason for playing.

After she helped me put the game away, every tile stacked neatly in
the box, she ambled into her bedroom. I wandered around the house
until I found myself studying the living room bookshelves for
something to read.

"Calvin, come here." Mother commanded out of her bedroom. I walked
down the hall and knocked once.

She opened the door. Standing very straight and tall, her bedroom
light cast her shadow upon me in the dimmer hall. "I want you to know
I'm absolutely against this."

"What mother?" I didn't understand what there was to be against. She'd
just commended me on a good scrabble score.

"This." And with concern set fiercely in her dark face she seemed to
be betrayed by her hands. Once more, they reached to the collar of her
dress and began to unbutton it. I stood confused before her while she
stripped, as I was too young to comprehend an internal struggle. What
I saw was my mother's stern expression melting away as she efficiently
unfastened her dress. Before I could speak, she was pulling the blouse
off her arms, her sturdy bra jostling and bobbing. My eyes bobbled in
response. My young male member awoke and pressed it's case against my
pants.

When mother handed her blouse to me, she dropped it in my waiting
hands with a last snort. My mother was very stern and strict, but she
had never snorted before! Finally, it dawned upon me. Mother was only
half finished. Her arms reached around behind her pale torso and began
to wrestle with the clasp of her bra.

I felt my breath leave my lungs. My dick flounced once, sort of like a
dog rolling over and sitting up straight as a arrow aimed at the
waiting bone. It was everything I had dreamed of.

The straps behind fell suddenly at her sides and her breasts, captured
within, pushed the large cups out farther but fell lower. Mother had
closed her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders, once, twice, and both
upper straps fell to her arms. Her bra nearly fell off. Mounds of tit
flesh poured out from behind their cage. The grand valley between them
opened for the first time to my view. My eyeballs sucked in their
glorious revelation. I almost reached for my rock solid cock.

"Turn around." Mother ordered, and I complied. I was well conditioned
to heed mother's commands. My expectations crashed hard. I turned my
head around last, attempting to burn the nearly bare sight of her
fabulous mounds into my retinas. I closed my eyes to view their
shadows cast upon the inside of my eyelids.

I heard my mother step up behind me. I prayed to god and the devil
that she might brush her naked tits against my back. I would have cum
in my pants if she had.

Instead, she reached under my arms and placed her brassier around my
chest. She guided my arms through its gigantic shoulder loops and
quickly fastened its slack back strap behind me. I had to drop her
blouse on the carpet while she tucked my slight body into her large
bra. Upon completion, she pressed on my shoulder to turn me back
around.

The first full view of my mother's naked breasts were in close up. My
eyes were only three inches higher than her nipples and less than an
inch away. They poked out at me like curious antennae. I inhaled and
nearly fainted. I wanted to kiss them so badly! I wanted to suck on
them and run the length of my tumescent prick around their bulges. I
would have laved them with clear pre-cum and drowned them afterwards
in dazzlingly white, opaque jism.

Mother said in her quiet, intermediate voice, "Let's get the rest of
you together." She leaned down and picked up her black top from the
floor. I almost fell over following the sight of her pale but firm
bosoms. A minute later my mother, totally naked from the waist up
began to fasten the buttons of the dress she had carefully stripped
off of her own skin.

I stood just outside her door, now dressed in her upper garments.
Mother very quickly followed with her skirt. She held it open upon the
floor and bade me, step into it's waist band. Soon she was tying it
tight to my waist. Clad only in her black transparent stockings and
her flat, white girdle, she returned to her room.

She walked away from me for a couple steps then stopped dead still.

"Mommy, would you read a bedtime story to me?" She asked in a very
small voice.

At first I nodded, unable to respond so quickly to her transformation.
It was a pointless gesture as her back was turned to me. My thoughts
were clogged with visions of breast feeding at my mother's tits.

"I-I guess so." I stammered. "Yeah, um, what would you like to hear?"

"My favorite is, Hippolyta the Amazon Queen." She went to her personal
bookcase and retrieved a book of greek stories. I entered cautiously,
lest some new twist of character assaulted me. My mother's black skirt
caused me no end of concern for tripping and falling.

Naked, my mother returned holding out the book to me.

I nearly dropped it as I continued to stare at her unclad breasts. If
only I dared to touch them, but my heart knew that was not allowed.

My most fond dream was quickly becoming a nightmare. I could look all
I wanted, but one touch might have lost it forever. My cock didn't
know the difference and tried desperately to leap from my loins and
bury itself between her tits.

After an impromptu impression of Charlie Chaplin, I secured a grip on
the book. Mother went to her bed and slid under the covers. I followed
and sat on the edge of her bed. Fortunately the room was warm, and she
didn't cover up her stripped torso.

Warm? I was sweating!

I opened the book and found the chapter list. As I began to read the
story, my mother gained a very peaceful look in her eyes. I had never
seen her so at ease. All throughout the reading, I would glance at
her, mesmerized by her inner beauty, agonized by her lustful
proximity. It was a terrible reading. I found many of the words and
nearly all of the names unpronounceable.

"That was wonderful!" She told me, and before I knew it she had sit up
and grabbed me. Up until this moment, my mother had never hugged me. I
did cum in my pants, right then. Her naked flesh was only stopped from
touching mine by her own clothing. "Thank you, mommy." She cried in
her small voice, and she kissed me chastely on the cheek.

I held onto her for as long as she let me. The warm stain in my
trousers turned cool. Fortunately, it didn't penetrate into the skirt
wrapped loosely around it. I breathed normally for the first time next
to my naked mom.

When she released me, I felt a new rush of emotions. I turned to
envelope her in my own hug, but she had already changed the light in
her eyes.

"Sorry honey, time to go to bed."

What round were we on?



To Be Continued...

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