This is it, the fateful day I put my plan into action. Over the past three months I’ve coordinated this stratagem, triple and quadruple checking every variable. There’s no possibility I’ve not accounted for, it’s finally going to happen.
Today, I’m going to be raped.
Not an actual rape, of course, just statutory. I’m only 13 after all. I also don’t intend for it to be a one-time occurrence, if everything goes exactly as anticipated this should be quite a regular event.
I must admit, my heart is pounding as I walk through the marble hallway of her £54-million mansion and into the vast kitchen. The room is huge, 427.52 meters by 584.64, filled with grills and griddles, fryers and fridges. Ovens as big as buses cook all manner of meat and sweets, many stuffed with live animals mooing and bleating and squealing as they’re roasted. Microwaves are stacked ten high, spinning ready meals to perfection or simply reheating food our mistress hasn’t yet got around to eating. Barbecues fill the room with the delicious smells of various carcasses, be it the finest veal to mere road kill squirrel. The crowd of overheated asylum seeker slaves (who work without rest or pay) part for me, knowing I’m imperative to serving our great queen. I pop into one of the many garage sized pantries around the edge of the room, collecting several items including whipped cream, honey, marmalade, Nutella, peanut butter and many different flavors of jam. Taking a shortcut through the butcher quarters, I finally reach the bakery wing that connects directly to her bedroom. A number of towering gateaux, stacks of scones and pans of blackberry crumble are waiting for her to inevitably demand some sweets. I load a hostess cart the size of a hospital gurney with treats and roll them through to our goddess.
My Mummy is the most beautiful woman in the entire world and absolutely enormous with fat. Our best estimates put her at approximately 1017.85 stones (or 14,249 lbs) and she lays spilling naked across her reinforced mega-bed. Her magnificent gut we know to be 8.94 meters (29.33 feet) long but only because she hasn’t really had the chance to fill her belly today. Nice and stuffed it can stretch out an extra 2.4 meters (nearly 8 feet). I’ve calculated that if she continues to gain at this rate we’ll have to knock through the far wall by Christmas and the NEXT room within less than a year. From hip to hip she’s also about 7.70 meters wide (25 feet), her enormous gut constituting approximately 87% of her entire body mass. Each of her breasts is about 3.15 meters wide (10.30 feet) and 1.40 meters in height, roughly the dimensions of a Mini, her nipples like steering wheels, and each breast must weigh at least 60 stones. We know for a fact she CAN move her arms but the accumulation of brachium blubber bunches up when she bends her elbow and prevents her from feeding her exquisite face. Instead those limp limbs bob on the plains of hip blubber accumulated either side of her as if she’s swimming in fat and they’re floating on the surface. Her legs we’re not sure of the exact measurements, but we know for a fact they’re at least four times wider than they are long. They’re composed of sweaty, shifting segments that I have the daily honor of massaging and occasionally digging through to clean her out after bowel movements. Her face is beautiful, shiny with smeared food, her wavy blonde hair caked to her skin with custard and milkshake and, well, cake. Her sextuple chins bounce with the motion of her endless munching. She’s so heavy her mattresses sinks in, raising up either side of her so she’s nestled into a sweet little crevice of sybarite luxury. Her sheets (draped casually across random acres of body but ultimately falling away) are all 1000 thread count and made of pure cotton, her pillows stuffed with goose down. A number of cuddly toys surround her, resting in the many nooks and crannies of her voluminous fat.
I clamber up the side of her bed and over the creamy expanse of her belly, sinking along the way as if I’m crawling across a bouncy castle. I reach her face, maids handing my cavalcade of treats up to me. Father is sat astride Mummy’s shoulder, feeding her warm jam from a repurposed petrol pump.
“Get lost, boy! It’s time for your Goddess Mother’s between-breakfasts-snack, and she doesn’t need you here bothering her!”
Mummy laughs at this abuse, then notices I’m lifting up a four-tiered wedding cake. Her eyes go wide like she’s just fallen in love.
“SHUT UP, IDIOT!” she addresses father, “Mummy can fit a little treat in between snacks!”
Huffing, father sulks, continuing to pump jam into his behemoth bride’s gob and throwing me evil looks as I sit astride Mummy’s chest, my crotch right in her face. I break off bowling ball-sized hunks of cake and shove them into Mummy’s mouth.
“That’s it, good Mummy, have a piece’a cake!” she wolfs it down without even acknowledging me, then I bring up an entire double-decker apple pie smeared with ice cream and repeat the sentiment, “have a piece’a pie!” I shove the entire thing in her mouth, breaking it up messily so soft crust tumbles from her lips down between her breasts, catching in the sticky trail of slobber coating her multiple chins. As I say “Piece’a” I deliberately make it sound like “pizza” to subconsciously make her crave it. I see her small piggish eyes darting around her room and many buffet tables crowded with comestibles for even the slightest trace of pizza. I however know there is none. It’s 2:04 PM so she just finished her pizza breakfast (only her third breakfast of the day) and there’s none left in the house. All local pizza joints are wiped out from serving specifically her, the only option is to have father run down to Asda and buy a couple lorries worth.
“NYUMMMM BUUURRPP” Mummy starts, attempting to speak despite the entire lemon meringue I just smooshed into her fat mouth, “HUSBAND!” Mummy screams, spraying me with so much pastry I must look like a pie, “PIZZA! NOW!”
“But, angel, you just finished two hours of pizza and--”
“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK” she screams again, (I’m interpreting, of course, to the untrained ear most everything she says is unintelligible over her sloppy chewing and spilling mouthfuls of sticky goodness) “I WANT PIZZA!!”
Knowing it’s somehow my fault, father pulls on his jacket and takes a couple of the servants out to the transport with him. This is it, according to my impeccable preparations I have 33 minutes and 12 seconds to see this through to completion. Local supermarkets always carry extra stock purely for Mummy, father will call ahead, pick up the 600 or so pizzas, and be back here well before her elevenses start.
I feed Mummy what little is left of the bakery food before placing two feeding tubes into her mouth, one channeling uncooked curry paste, the other a thick full cream. Then I send the servants away and (checking on the home security via my phone to make sure father has left) pull out my dick. It’s rock hard and 16.52 centimeters (six and a half inches). Mummy’s sleepy eyes flutter open. Predictably she’s so disregarding of anything other than food that she’s not at all phased by the site of her only son exposing himself to her. Desperate to add length, I start wanking. Mummy, unimpressed, sneers.
“Pfft, you call that little worm a cock?” she mocks, spilling a mouthful of warm custard down her several chins and over my balls, “such a pathetic boy with a tiny little thingy trying to impress Mummy.”
This was to be expected, Mummy is a sadistic woman after all and loves to revel in her children’s desperate efforts for her attention. She closes her eyes again, returning her focus to the all-encompassing oblivion of food. I win her back however with the familiar aerosol sound of whipped cream being sprayed. I picked that sound because it’s the most likely to arouse her attention. She watches, hypnotized, as I coat my erection in that sticky froth, eliciting a bucketful of gluttonous drool to spill from her lips as she licks smeared food from around her mouth. At the same time I squeeze dollops of chocolate sauce across the appendage so it’s starting to resemble a banana split, making it all the more enticing. She opens her lips ever so slightly wider to give me space to enter, moaning longingly like a child who wants something. It’s 2:09 PM, I had planned to be at this stage by 2:08 PM but my nervously fumbling fingers and the adrenaline rush is holding me up. I slip my member between her plump and succulent lips among the full-speed feeding tubes. Instantly it’s the most amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced, warm and moist, the way a mother’s love should be. Her divine and nimble tongue coils around my shaft like a snake with prey before drawing back to scoop off as much cream as possible. As she swills, the insides of her fat cheeks stroke the side of my stiffy like velvet pillows, her soft kiss tugging gently at the flavour. By now every last drop of cream is sucked from my skin but to keep Mummy interested I take up another two cans and spray them in on each side of my boyhood so Mummy’s wonderful tongue will keep doing its magic. I look down into her sleepy eyes, blue and beautiful and sparkling as they stare up at me, a seductive smile creeping her face as she tastes my salty pre-cum starting to leak. Within 23 seconds she’s long since finished off all 4 cans of whipped cream. To be honest, I’d calculated a 96% chance I’d have blown my load by now. It had occurred to me I might be too nervous to jizz straight away. Father could come home any second, despite my thorough planning, and catch me with his wife. The real danger though is Mummy’s impatient hunger. Several times I calculated the risk of Mummy biting off my penis and though they’re fairly high I deemed them negligible in comparison to the reward. Now, however, those odds are rising. The thought starts to interrupt, and I feel my dick shrivel up with anxiety, despite not having achieved its goals. Mummy’s eyes narrow angrily as I grow flaccid (I am essentially taking food out of her mouth) and in response bites down on my shrinking little sausage while giving a warning growl like a playful puppy. The jealous suction gets painfully harder, the strength of her swallowing reflex threatening to pull my cock clean off as I feel it slide further down her throat. It stings. Her teeth press down and start to squeeze. Forcing myself not to scream with the pain, I turn to emergency contingency #17.
“SELENA!”
My 6 year old sister has been stood in waiting at Mummy’s bedside and scales her maternal mistress’ mammoth mass to reach me, bringing more supplies. Selena knows not to grass me out to father otherwise I’ll tell Mummy she’s hiding a baby rabbit she found in the garden. Among the victuals she’s brought me are bottles of ketchup and mustard, each of these I squeeze alongside my knob, allowing gravity to carry them straight into our goddess. Mummy’s eyes close in dreamy bliss once more, still imperiously bracing my flaccid little worm between her teeth and I start to grow again. To help my erection return I run my hands through Mummy’s soft blonde hair. Selena takes over the duties of keeping my hard-on covered in condiments, drenching the space where lips meet shaft, while I stroke Mummy’s beautiful face and squeeze the many obscene rolls of fat within reach. Selena empties a jar of honey over my cock and with a powerful suction Mummy draws my now solid boner even further down her. A thick dollop of honey drips onto my hairless scrote. Mummy’s tongue laps out, under my sack, hooking the looser skin between the testicles and pulling them into her mouth so she can swill and suck those too, not allowing a single drop of sweetness to go to waste. Her tongue runs playfully along the more sensitive area of my balls, dancing around my helmet, stroking my entire length. Dear god, I never anticipated this.
She’s actually trying to make me cum!
Mummy wants to swallow back all my jizz, something I’d not accounted for in my plans. I knew she wouldn’t care but I didn’t know she’d be this into it. Often Mummy has made mention her love for the taste of sperm, reminiscing on how she misses the flavour of ex-boyfriends to tease father. Now she wants my load in her belly.
Harder Mummy sucks, “mmmm”ing and “ahhhhh”ing and moaning to help her little boy finish. In response I shunt my dick rhythmically in and out of her sweet mouth.
Faster and faster.
She makes urging moaning noises, muttering a warning for me to ejaculate soon or she’ll bite my todger clean off, the threat of castration becoming more and more imminent.
I shunt.
She sucks.
I thrust.
She bites.
Finally, at the crucial moment, I cum. I unload in her face, her cheeks stuffed with my young spunk. Her teeth release, leaving a perimeter of tiny indentations and cuts around the surface of my cock, her lips and tongue relax as her pallet is washed with my eager jizz. She glugs back my salty tribute like she’s trying to win a drinking contest.
As the last of it is done I finally remove my little sausage from her loving embrace. A string of sperm hanging between the end of my helmet and her lips. She sucks it back like a strand of spaghetti, licking any wayward droplets from around her mouth. She bats her eyelashes at me, the same way she does the men she entertains.
“Mmmm… you taste just like your daddy.”
I love it when a plan comes together!