The Red Carpet (Part I)

Liam walked at his mom’s side. Her presence was heavy next to him. It wasn’t because of her belly or her thighs, her arms, or even the size of her red-head. Liam’s mom, Autumn, moved, almost laboriously, through the world, a physical presence as larger-than-life as her vivacious personality, all because she held two giant burdens which swung gloriously from her chest.

These two burdens were deceptive, both of them being soft and beautiful to look at, the cleavage between them inviting, their endless plain of white flesh both intimidating and comforting. They were a gift. At least to those who laid their eyes on them. Carrying them around, on the other hand, not so harmless or agreeable. Having them hang off the body of your own mother? Even worse.

Liam walked next to these two giant burdens, his whole world painted and smeared black by them, as if his mom had dipped them into a tray of ink and smeared them in giant arcs across the white canvas of his life.

He was young. At the end of the summer, his first foray into high school was waiting. He clung onto this summer with the same shy desperation as his mom’s bikini clung to her giant breasts, which bobbed with her every step. Her bikini, made from a scene-stealing yellow, barely seemed to be able to cover them, never mind support her weight. Liam worried that at any moment, his mom would have a ‘popping’ incident.

He tried to ignore them, though they were visible from his peripheral, and enjoy the ambience of the park, with merry cacophony of families and spray and splashing of water.

“Ooh,” his mom said, pointing up at Leviathan with her other hand shielding her eyes from the sun. “Look how big that one is!”

The giant slide snaked its way intricately down-hill, bending in impossible shapes, before reaching the pool of vomited travellers at the bottom. Even still, with her finger pointing at the unmissable spectacle, three men, in two different groups passing by, looked at Liam’s mom, seeing her chest stop and sway from inertia, and Liam knew, and it pained him to know, that his mother’s words: ‘look how big that one is” were being repeated ironically in the minds of those young men, slightly amended for the spectacle they happened to lay their eyes on in that moment: “Look how big those ones are!”

Liam blushed.

His mom looked down at him. Her green eyes were electric underneath her voluptuous red hair.

As two of the men passed, Liam could see their necks swiveling to try to get a look at Autumn’s chest in vain.

Liam’s mom titled her head, mistaking his shyness for fear of the slide. “Don’t tell me that you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared, mom,” Liam insisted, his voice breaking, barely contacting the threshold for puberty.

“Are you sure?” she said, jerking her head forward, rooster-like. “Cuz you seem to be shaking like a bird.” She grabbed Liam’s arm manipulated it back and forth to imitate shaking. As she did her breasts shook, inadvertently reminding Liam of the only reason why he feared going down that slide.

“I’m not scared,” Liam insisted, firmly enough to make his point, but with a shy nervousness, fearing anyone around might hear.

“Oh, so you’re shaking because you’re wet then? Well look,” Autumn looked down at her voluptuous body. She hopped up and down twice, her breasts shaking in her bikini-top, almost threatening (or promising to some) to pop out and expose themselves. Instead they stayed within their cups, safely, but the beads of water accumulated from various slides and after-pools shook off her chest as if they were shook from the hairs of a wet dog. “See?”

Liam blushed as he pressed his wrist to his eyes, wiping off the water his mom just sprayed him with. He didn’t say anything. He only stood there.

Autumn looked off in the distance, over Liam’s shoulder. Then she looked up at the top of the slide. The attendant stood there in the shade next to the slide’s open entrance. He looked down, almost zeroing in on Autumn with laser focus, her striking red hair and the giant black line of her cleavage easy to zero in on, as kids too short to even be on the slide snuck past his distracted awareness and into Leviathan’s waiting throat.

“Something tells me…” Liam’s mom began as she looked up at the teenager with her eyes shaded. “We’ll be allowed to skip a few spots in line.”

Liam looked up at the slide’s entrance, and at seeing the boy standing there, Dylan’s older cousin gawking down at his mom, he internally sighed, feeling nauseous.

“Come on,” Autumn said, grabbing her son by his wrist in her usual adventurous way. “We’re going, like it or not.” She stormed forward, weaving in between startled onlooker, some of whom felt almost like they’d live their alleged dream of death by tits at last. “You live once and then you croak. Life’s too short for baby slides. You know my motto. Go big.” She laughed.

It was moments like this which made Liam desire for life to be even shorter than it was in his mom’s platitudes.

Before Liam knew it, he was climbing the walkway with his mother, inch by inch, toward the mouth of that gigantic beast of a slide. His mom’s body seemed to find an infinite variety of gesticulations depending on what the nature of the incline was, and in keeping with that and with history, so did her sense of humor.

After finding shelter beneath a shaded segment of the walkway line, she looked down at her giant breasts. “I wish there was a way to cover these guys that let a little bit of a sun in.” She looked at her son. “By the time we get up there, they’re going to be half-tanned.”

Liam grimaced to himself.

“Yup,” his mom said, and then stretched her back by tilting her chin in the air, her fiery hair glowing in the ray of sun which peeked through the shade.

Liam looked at his mom’s chest, and the men standing behind them in line, who Liam could see in his peripheral, blatantly stared at her chest. His mom looked back down at her tits and began to stare at them. Liam cringed, waiting for what his mom would say next, hoping it wouldn’t be so loud that those more than a few heads ahead and a few behind would hear.

“They should put George Foreman grills in the cups of these things. With a little knob, you know?...adjust the heat.” She looked up at Liam as if it was a serious idea. “Make ‘em nice and even with the rest of…” she waved her open hands, fingers outspread, over her breasts, doing so in giant circles in order to fully encapsulate the whole thing, before she just sort of trailed off. “You get the idea,” she said.

Before long, the top of the slide was reached. Dylan’s cousin, looking as dangerous as Dylan himself did (Liam had yet to know his mysterious classmate well enough at this point in his life to know that Dylan was only putting on a show), looked at Autumn, having trouble not looking at her chest.

“Geeze,” she mumbled. “Mr. Arendt must have a lot of money to throw around if he’s spending it on official boob examiners.”

Liam thanked God she said it quietly enough where only he could hear it. The rushing water at the mouth of the slide helped.

They approached the slide.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the flustered young man. “We were just wondering where the washroom was.”

Dylan’s cousin looked at her, frozen, and then regaining awkward teenage mobility, he turned and pointed down at the ground (which seemed like it was a mile off now) where the literal bathroom stood near the entrance to the park.

“Thanks,” she said. “I guess this is the quickest way down then?” She pointed at the slide’s echoing entrance.

The young man looked at it, then back up at her. “Oh,” he said, nodding his head dutifully. “Yeah… yeah… it’ll take you right down.”

“Wow,” she replied. “That’s convenient. Let’s go, Liam. These things aren’t going to milk themselves.”

Liam pushed at his mom’s lower back, wanting nothing more than to disappear down the cavern of the slide, hoping it lead to a wood chipper or a pool of molten flame. Anywhere but here.

His mom stood in the shallow water, held her nose, and then jumped forward, feet first, being sucked down into the hungry mouth of the beast, her red hair trailing a bit behind her.

“Dude,” Dylan’s cousin said, Liam trying to ignore it, getting ready to leap down after his mom. “Your mom’s…”

Before Liam had to suffer that last syllable, the audible world was sucked from his awareness by the echoey cacophony of a million droplets of water moving in rough unison.

They sucked him downward through the tube, the light of the world without only hinting at itself as it came through the slide’s plastic, pale and stunted.

As Liam slid up walls and back down again at every turn, and felt his stomach rise as the rest of him dropped down every precipice, the world around him, and all its various stresses, seemed to disappear, washed away by the water itself, or the apocalyptic blur that ran through his emotions.

He forgot entirely about the world outside, and he couldn’t be happier, only for it to be tugged from him in one horrible moment by a sensation against his right foot.

He looked down.

He could just barely make out what it was, until he squinted.

Then his eyes went wide.

It clung to his foot, a fibery jelly-fish. He could feel its very fabric against his flesh.

It was yellow.

His mom’s bikini top, its cup too big for his foot, clung to his sole, his straps on both sides running up his calf and shin.

The world outside suddenly rushed back to his awareness, and before he could even adjust to the reawakened knowledge of its cruelties, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

But it wasn’t a good light.

Liam exploded into reality, the sun mauling him as he dropped into a disorientating blast of water. His feet made contact with the pool’s bottom. His right foot cushioned by the fabric of the bikini top. His head came up over the water. The water slowly stabilized.

He lifted his forearm to his face, wiping away the moisture.

And when he did he felt something vaguely familiar, but acutely different, from anything he had ever experienced before.

A sea of faces, both male and female, with the female faces looking shocked, and the male faces looking blown away, looked in his general direction, like the audience at an outdoor performance, looking down within the little afterpool of the slide.

Liam looked ahead, and when he did, the bikini top underneath his foot became the only physical sensation he was aware of, besides the sensation of his stomach dropping within.

His mom stood there, standing upright, her lower body engulfed in the water.

Her top half stood above it, bathed shiny by the sun.

Her back stood facing Liam, unbroken and beige.

Liam’s mom stood there, her face unseen by Liam, only seeing the back of her red head, made smooth by the water. She stood there, stiffly, as if she didn’t know what to do.

And before anyone could say a single thing, she suddenly seemed to shift in place.

Her arms shot out to her sides, both hands free, her chest poked outward, directly at the onlooking crowd.

“Ta-da!” she said.

The crowd stared at her for a second, their jaws gaping. And then, after an interminably long time from Liam’s perspective, one of the onlookers broke into a laugh. Then another. Then the whole crowd melded together into one gesture of humorous uproar, even as they watched, their voyeurism in this moment unimpeded. But their laughter seemed to share a slide with it.

Autumn stood proud, looking out at her audience.

And as Liam stood there, the bikini top offensive against his foot, and his skin burning despite the excess of cold water all around him, he felt something strange. Something in his gut.

It passed.

Then it came back again, tugging on him from his intestines.

And then he couldn’t help it.

His mouth opened.

He laughed.

And he stopped.

And then he bit his tongue, looking at the back of his mom’s head, and the back of her bare torso, only imagining what was open and exposed on its other side, catching the barest glimpses of her massive sideboob. His mom’s hands out, as far away from her body as could be, with her fingers outstretched, one hand higher in the air than the other, the universal symbol of a showbusiness she had yet to know.

His mouth opened again, and this time, when Liam’s laughter came out, it didn’t stop.

Not for a long while.

---

Liam was much older now, and he sat on his couch, watching television in his house alone.

He sat there, bathed in the light of the TV, the house all shadows around him, too big for one teenage boy alone. Yet he was the only one there, his father always away on business trips.

He sat there, his expression ambivalent, looking at the very TV program which drew his mother away from him even more than his parents’ divorce.

“What do you mean it’s not here,” a young man hissed on the screen, keeping his voice low as if to hide. “Alice said she saw him leave with it.”

The two boys rummaged through boxes and drawers, all in search of a single golden necklace.

“It’s not here,” his friend hissed back at him in a low voice while rummaging through the box.

“What’s in there then?”

His friend stopped rummaging, staring down into the box.

“Hey, I’m asking you a question. What’s in the box?”

There was a solitary giggle in the studio audience.

“Uh, nothing. Just… just go check if the coast is clear again.”

The audience laughed.

“Give me that,” the young man said, grabbing at the box.

“No… no…” his friend said as he struggled to keep it in his hands. “You’re not going to want to see it, I’m warning you.”

The young man wrested control of the box from his friend, looking at him for a second with disgust, much to the amusement of the audience. “You’re warning me…” he repeated in disgust. He lifted the item of interest out of the box. It was a photograph. His eyes went wide.

The audience laughed.

“I told you you wouldn’t want to see it,” his friend said. “Old Monty must have drilled a hole in the change room at Knockers.”

The audience groaned at the revelation. Giggles could be heard among the groaning.

The young man stared down at the polaroid in his hands, its subject (hidden from the eyes of the viewer) being his very own mother, and the main character of the show.

“Here,” his friend said, reaching for the photo. “Let me get rid of it for you.”

The young man snapped his hand back. “Get looking back in that box, you…”

The audience howled.

It cut to Mr. Montgomery’s living room. Autumn, playing her famous character Jessica, stood in a skimpy outfit, a lowcut yellow shirt, her giant breasts almost bursting out of them, with a form-fitting skirt, all meant to distract the perverted old man. Her co-worker Alice, almost as busty, her hair a jet-black, her face artificially pale with makeup, and her eyeliner thick, stood next to her. The two of them looked into the eager eyes of Mr. Montgomery, the manager at Knockers, the restaurant they both worked at. He looked down, alternating between the two of their chests, his eyes wide with intrigue, unaware that he was only being distracted so that Jessica’s son could rummage through his private belongings to find Autumn’s necklace.

“Um, Mr. Montgomery. What are you staring at…” Jessica said. She looked down at her chest, running her hands over it, as if trying to find something that the old man was looking at. “Is there a bug in…” She put her thumb and forefinger as one into her cleavage, and then opened them as if to try to pry her breasts apart at their cleavage and look inside with one open eye.

The audience howled.

Autumn stood back, and looked at Alice, then back at Mr. Montgomery. The cast stood there, waiting for the audience’s laughter to die off before continuing their lines.

When it finally did, Mr. Montgomery turned slightly, away from his two busty employees, and said, as if under his breath. “The only bug is the one I’ve hid in the back room at Knockers.”

“What!?” Autumn said, bursting forward.

The audience howled yet again.

Liam cringed watching his mom’s breasts, the true topic at hand (as it always was with this show) shake from her exaggerated motion. It was bad enough the show used her body as a central plot device, and always as a way to draw and retain eyes, but the broad comedic aspects of it meant she would jerk and stumble, and stop cold, all of it accentuating those two giant breasts, which the wardrobe department refused to hide or make halfway modest (and would be fired if they tried).

“Bugs in the back at Knockers?” Alice said in her dry and assertive tone.

The audience froze.

“Cool,” she exclaimed. “Like centipedes and moths?”

Again the audience laughed. Liam could see the smile in the corner of his mom’s mouth. He could see the joy in her, he noticed it every so often, when the audience would react to the jokes. Whenever he’d see it, he would feel bad for hating the show so much, knowing how much the laugher meant to her.

The show cut back to Mr. Montgomery’s bedroom, where the two boys continued their secret rummaging.

“Got it,” the young man, Jessica’s son, said. He pulled a necklace out of small case, and swung in his fingers.

“Wow,” his friend said. “Shiny…” he extended his hand to try to touch it. Jessica’s son swatted the greedy hand away.

His friend sucked on his fingers.

“Now,” Jessica’s son said, examining the trinket. “How do we know it’s my mom’s?”

His friend reached over for the box, grabbed one of the photos and looked at it.

“She’s wearing it here, it’s hers.”

Jessica’s son swatted the photo out of his friend’s hand while the studio audience exploded riotously. He stood there during all of it, grimacing at his friend, waiting for the noise to die down for his next line.

Liam looked into the young man’s angry face. The actor looked nothing like his mom. His hair was dyed red, but that only underlined how different they looked from each other because of how different their facial features were beneath those mops of similarly colored hair. There’s was no way that he could ever pass as your mom’s son. On top of that, he wasn’t anything like the lovable dupe he played on the show. Liam had heard from his mom how that actor was quite the womanizing ladies man.

Liam would think of this guy, the more handsome version of himself, red hair and all, walking confidently between scenes, winking at female cast and members of the crew. The image of him shooting a wink at Autumn flashed in Liam’s mind from time to time, only for it to be cast out of his thoughts with violent aggression, usually with the thought of the same actor disintegrating into an unconfident posture and expression, in a way that reminded Liam of himself, as soon as the director said ‘action.”

“Let’s get out of here,” the young man’s friend said. “While we’re still ahead.”

Jessica’s son put the box back down on the bed, and as he prepared to tip-toe away, his friend reached behind him, trying to get his hand into the box.

Jessica’s son turned around and slapped his hand.

“Ow!” the young man said.

Jessica’s son put his index finger to his lips to signal his friend to be quiet.

In the living room, Mr. Montgomery heard the sound. He turned his head. “What was that?”

“Uh,” Jessica said, stepping in front of Mr. Montgomery. “What was what?” she said, trying to distract the man. “I didn’t hear anything. Alice, you hear anything?”

“No.”

“There was a noise. From my bedroom. It sounded like a young man.”

Mr. Montgomery tried to step past Jessica. She stepped back. He stepped forward again, and she stepped back.

And then just as he was about to push again, she tensed up her body, as if preparing for a soldier’s march, and she twisted her shoulder’s from side to side, causing her gigantic, white breasts to shake in her deliberately low-cut blouse.

Mr. Montgomery stopped in place, staring down at the giant white globes which hung in front of him (and in front of the whole viewing audience) like an appetizing treat.

“Like I said, Mr. Montgomery. I’m sure it was nothing.”

“You jerk!” a distant voice said.

Mr. Montgomery’s head shot up. “There it is again.”

Suddenly, from down the hallway, Jessica’s son and his friend emerged, wrestling with each other, her son putting his friend in a headlock, with his friend’s palm pressed firmly into his face.

“Give it back,” his friend said.

“No!”

“Give it back, or I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll… I’ll… well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’s going to be bad, whatever it is.”

The audience laughed.

Jessica’s son pushed him off himself, dismissively.

His friend put out his hand, flustered and embarrassed. “Now give me that photo.”

Jessica’s son looked down at his own clenched fist. He raised it up into the air. He opened it. Scraps of torn photograph fell to the floor.

“No!” his friend screamed, and collapsed to the ground, trying to salvage what was left of the glorious image of Jessica nude.

Mr. Montgomery stepped forward, his mouth hanging open. “I…”

“What was that?” Jessica asked, to the laughter of some in the audience.

“Mr. Montgomery, Jessica’s son, and his friend, all turned to look at her. “It was nothing!” they all said at once.

The audience laughed.

Mr. Montgomery looked around, astonished at what he was seeing. “You, all of you. Get out of my house! I’ve had enough of this poppy-cock. Jeopardy will be on any minute.”

“I love Jeopardy,” Alice said. She stood there, her face stoic as the audience laughed.

“Go, go,” Mr. Montgomery said, pushing them all toward the front door.

“Geeze,” Jessica said.

As the front door was pushed open, Alice and Jessica’s son were pushed out, along with Jessica behind them.

Montgomery’s hands then shot out and wrapped around Jessica’s waist, pulling her back in from behind. “On second thought, you can stay.”

The audience laughed while Jessica’s son grabbed at her arm and tried to tug her back outside. She stood there, looking ridiculous, being tugged from both sides, as her breasts shook and jostled with each pull.

The audience were in stitches.

Liam looked down at the backs of his hands. They were bathed blue by the light of the television screen.

Jessica was successfully pulled out of the house by her son with one last great heave. Her giant chest showed evidence, in terms of their physical response, of that heave. She landed in her son’s arms. The door slammed shut.

“Well,” Mr. Montgomery said. “Darn.”

He turned around, seeing the young teenager scrambling for the scraps on the floor, trying to reorganize them in proper order to recreate the image that Mr. Montgomery had taken in subterfuge. The young man looked up at him. They stared at each other for a silent second. Then Mr. Montgomery spoke: “I’ll go get the adhesive tape.”

The audience was again in the throws of uproarious laughter.

Outside, on the stoop, the other three characters stood.

Jessica’s son looked over at Alice, his eyes focused on her pale-white chest.

Alice spun around, crossing her arms over her boobs in defiance of the look she was getting.

Jessica grabbed her son by his shirt collar. “Did you get it? Hey, hey. Snap out of it.” All the while she shook her fictional son, Autumn’s breasts shook as well.

“Hey.” She slapped his face lightly.

He turned and looked up at her.

“What?”

“My necklace. Did you find it?”

“I couldn’t find it anywhere,” he said.

“What!?”

“Not!” her son said, pulling up the necklace from his pocket.

Jessica gasped, and then she reached forward, pulling her son toward her body, squeezing him against her giant chest with a full grasp.

Liam looked away from the screen reflexively and down at his thumbs. His cheeks were flush red, matching his hair. He tried to remember in that moment what his mom’s body felt like hugging tightly against his own. He sat there, his chest a bit chilly, watching his mom’s voluptuous torso being pushed and pulled tightly against the torso of her second son.

“Thank you, sweety,” she said, her face buried against the young man’s shoulder. “You don’t know how much this means to me. It’s the last thing from your father I have left. I never take it off. No matter what I’m wearing.”

Her son’s eyes go wide.

There’s a knowing laugh from a few members of the audience.

“Yeah,” her son says after a gulp in his throat. “Even when you’re wearing nothing at all.”

Autumn pushes her son out, looking into his face with wide, bewildered eyes, freeing her cleavage for the full view of the audience to go out on, ending the show, as it was always ended, on a freeze frame.

The audience erupted into laughter again.

Liam sat there in the dark, looking at the freeze frame of his mom’s straining breasts. The show’s theme music played.

Liam looked away from the screen.

He sighed.

The phone rang. Just as he was expecting it to.

He sat there for a second in the dark, looking at his mom’s face pressed next to his on the face of his phone.

After its third ring he picked it up and answered.

“Sweetheart!”

“Hi, mom,” Liam said.

“How are things?”

“Good, mom.” Liam looked around the empty house. “As usual.”

“Good, good. So… how was it?”

“My dinner? It was great.”

“Very funny!” She said. “You should be writing for us here. We just fired a guy.”

“Why?” Liam asked, tilting his head.

“Uh…” Liam’s mom sounded flustered. “He just… he wasn’t that good. We used very few of his jokes.” She was silent for a second. Liam’s eyes were wide, feeling a familiar pit in his stomach. “…and… he was the head writer for one episode, but by the time the others had their way with it, it was completely different. It was…” Liam could imagine her shaking her head in her usual way. “It was this whole thing.”

“Oh,” he said, unsure of what to say. His mom’s every pause, and every flustered moment, its own flash of illicit nightmares. He loathed the fact that her unavoidably large tits were so far from his ability to protect them, or to even know what was happening to them, if anything. For a second, Liam wondered if Mr. Montgomery’s photographs in the show were based on any behaviors of a writer who may or may not have been fired recently.

“So,” she exclaimed, breaking the silence. “The episode! What would you give it out of ten?”

“Seven,” he said.

“Seven?”

“Yeah, good plot, funny, but it reminded me of that one in the second season.”

“Between me and you, sweetheart,” she whispered into the phone. “It was the one from the second season.”

“They’re cannibalizing their own stories? Why? Was it… was it to get you teasing with an outfit again.”

Autumn laughed, and Liam held his eyes shut, his mind invaded by the thought of her chest swaying back and forth with her body as she did.

Autumn sat on a stool, her one hand on its edge, and her high-heeled feet resting at either side as if she was a schoolboy. The busy bodies of show-biz moved past her on either side, her giant chest looking up at them, each staff member sneaking glances at it, both due to its beauty, and due to the fact that they were starstruck.

“Hey babe,” she said. “I’m on soon. I’m on Darryl East’s show tonight. Based on our preshow prep conversation, I think you’re going to want to watch it.”

“It’s on tonight?”

“It’s filming tonight. They’ll air it Tomorrow. At...” she looked at her watch only to realized she didn’t have one. “… I don’t own a watch.”

“You never have.”

“I know… and I’m just realizing it now. It’s… you know, just google it.”

“It’s on at eight,” Liam said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Eight. Don’t miss it.”

“I won’t,” Liam said.

“Peachy,” looking skeptically at a young girl who approached her face with a brush, pretending to give the evil eye to her.

There was a silence on both ends. Neither of them spoke, they both held their phones to their ears, Liam in the darkness of the family home as another show was playing on the TV, his mom in the Darryl East green room, being made-up for the cameras.

She looked up, flicked her hair, and then smiled. “Well, bye then, sweetheart.”

“Bye mom,” Liam said.

“Love you, love you, love you, mwah, mwah. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye…”

“Bye, babe,” she said, with genuine sweetness.

And then the line went dead.

Liam sat there, the face of his phone pressed to his ear, hearing nothing.

He let it slide down to the arm of the couch.

He looked at the television screen.

“I can believe it’s not butter,” a man dressed like a bagel said. “It’s better!”

---

“Fuck you!” Dylan yelled from across the field.

Liam held his middle finger up in the air in response. “He always waits ‘til we’re half a mile apart before he says it,” he mumbled to himself.

Tom stood next to Dylan in the distance, smiling, the perpetual Switzerland, never taking sides, but always spurring on conflict.

Liam turned around and continued on his way.

Halfway to his house, he stopped at the 7-11. As he gazed over the shelves of the snack aisle, he heard two young men in the aisle across from him talking.

“It’s too funny, man, too funny.”

“I think this is the funniest season.”

“It is.”

Liam smiled as he stood there. He bit the inside of his cheek to hide his pride, listening to the two disembodied voices.

“Autumn Jones is the only woman that makes me laugh.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, man.”

Liam nodded his head knowingly, his eyes wide with agreement, as he picked through chip bags.

“She has perfect comedic timing.”

“Yup.”

Liam continued nodding.

“And she’s from here, how many people in this town you know who can tell a good joke?”

“Zero. Not even guys.”

Liam shook his head. “Nobody else,” he mouthed to himself.

“Exactly. And you know what else?”

“What?”

Liam stopped.

“Her tits are like a miracle from god.”

“Preach.”

Liam’s face went red.

“How’s this for an episode?”

“Shoot.”

“Mr. Montgomery and Berry just get sick of her shit. Sick of her flaunting those big tits around. Right? So they get together, hatch a plan, so they just…” his voice trailed off, sounding as if he was looking around. “Well, I shouldn’t say it here. But you know what I’m getting at.”

“I do.”

“What do you think her cup-size is?”

“Z’s bro, straight Z’s.”

“Fuck yeah. How big you think those nips are?”

“Fuck, like quarters man.”

The image of his mom, wet from splashing water, turning around topless in the little pool with two dozen or more laughing faces behind her, to smile at him, came to Liam in a flash.

Liam put all his snacks back on the shelf in one giant heap, and left the store with his head down.

---

Liam laid on his couch, in the darkness of his living room, like usual.

He stared at the screen.

Darryl East stood there, introducing a woman whose pedigree sounded very familiar to Liam.

“Give a huge round of applause for… Autumn Jones!”

The crowd erupted into cheering applause.

She emerged from out the curtain, and when she did, members of the audience hooted and hollered.

Her giant tits, their cleavage almost unbelievable, swayed from side to side in her yellow dress.

East stood up, his arms outstretched, his eyes wide, to the amusement of the audience.

He went to go lean in for a handshake, but instead went for a hug.

Autumn’s face lit up in surprise, as did the voices of the audience.

Autumn sat down, her tits jiggled when her ass met the red chair seat.

Darryl East found his chair behind the desk. “Well, well, if it isn’t Jessica from Knockers.”

“Yes,” Autumn said. “That is me.”

“The character Jessica, that’s who we booked tonight.”

“And why wouldn’t you. She’s marvelous,” Autumn said. “She makes me look like a Z-lister.”

The audience laughed. Autumn looked out at them and smiled.

“Yeah, a real nobody,” East said. “But I hear they based the character on you.”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“Phillip Michaels told me that.”

“Well, he would know then.”

The audience laughed.

“He told me that that character was written very differently, but when they met you, and they decided you were perfect for the part, you gave them some sort of eureka moment.”

The audience began to giggle impishly.

Both Autumn and East looked out at them, and smiles took over their features. Liam felt his face getting red. Nobody had said anything explicitly, but the focal point of the laughter, and the accidental joke, hung there from his mom’s chest, absolute perfection, large, white, and smooth. They were almost asking to be addressed.

“Yes,” Autumn said. “They said I made a – big – impre…. I’m just kidding. Yeah, the character was more of a Marge Simpson type, the straight girl kind of thing. But, I was told…” she lifted her fingernails to her face and breathed on them in faux arrogance. “…I was quite the riot.”

“Yes, you must have been.”

“And so they rewrote the pilot with that in mind, making Jessica… kind of like… me.”

“Wait a second,” East said. “Wait. If they didn’t expect you to be funny, what was their criteria for who gets hired?”

Liam’s mom smiled at the host, then she looked directly down at her chest.

The audience laughed.

“I see,” he said. “Then why’d they even sit down with you. You’d think they know you were hired the second you stepped in?”

The audience laughed again.

“I guess they wanted to talk to me.”

“About what?”

Again, Autumn looked at East with amused eyes, then she jerked her gaze downward, staring directly at her own cleavage.

The audience again laughed. She brought her head up and wrinkled her eyes at them in pleasure.

“Okay then,” the host said. “I guess you’re living on easy street then. What with…” he lifted his finger and pointed directly at them. “Uhhhh.”

“It’s not all sunshine and roses.”

“How? Explain yourself, you madwoman.”

“Well, for one,” she poked out her chest, much to the amusement of a few masculine voices in the audience. “There’s the permanent damage done to my lower back every waking second of my life. That’s one.”

“Huh, small price to pay.”

“Small?”

“For me, I mean. I’ll take you feeling back pain if it means I get to look at those puppies.”

“Wow,” she said. “You’re aggressive.”

“Does that bother you?”

She looked down at them. “No,” she said innocently. Her head snapped back up. “You can look, but you can’t touch. Those are the only rules. I have to have some, I guess.”

East, as if dared, lifted his hand and slowly extended them towards her chest.

The camera cut to the look of her eyes, which were narrowed into a mock aggression.

The audience laughed.

East pulled his hand back in equally faux intimidation.

“Yeah, you better be scared,” she said.

“But you do have some interactions with the fans.”

“Of course, I love my fans.”

“They never try to… you know…”

“No. They’re not barbarians. They understand. Most people are respectful.”

“Most people?” East asked devilishly.

The audience laughed.

Liam felt a sickness in his stomach.

“So,” Darryl East said, shifting gears. “My staff tells me you were talking with your son in the green room.”

“I was!”

Liam froze.

“Isnt’ that sweet. I-”

The audience began clapping before he could continue. He nodded his head and then motioned for them to clap more. When they finished, he continued.

“And what do you and your son talk about?”

“The show,” she said.

“And what about the show?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Everything. We have a conversation after every new episode.

There were some “aw’s” from the audience. She turned to look out, her eyes crinkled happily again.

Liam sat there, staring at the screen with as much apprehension as if he were in the studio audience, waiting for the camera to cut to him sitting there, blushing.

“What do you talk about after every episode?”

“The usual,” she said. She held up her and began counting fingers in an animated fashion. “The best joke. Rating it out of ten, or five…. Or a letter grade, depending on how I feel that day. How pretty I looked.”

The audience laughed.

“That’s a joke. I’m not that conceited, just to be clear.”

“Did you breastfeed him?” East asked.

The audience exploded into laughter and “oohs.”

“I’m only asking because you seem like the type of girl who doesn’t mind talking about your…” his motioned toward her chest with his upturned palm.

Autumn shifted in her seat. “You know I did.” She looked down at her tits. “They got engorged after I became pregnant with him – huge! Ginormous, dare I say. - and he sucked and he sucked, but no matter how good a go he had at it, he couldn’t suck these things empty.”

The audience laughed throughout the outrageous series of sentences.

“And here I am,” she said with a shrug.

She looked out at the still-laughing audience, pretending as if she didn’t understand their reaction, then she let the façade drop.

“No, I’m just kidding… but…”

“So wouldn’t it be safe to say that you owe your career to your son.”

She held up her finger to her mouth. “Shh,” she whispered. “If he finds out, he’s going to asked for royalties.”

“That’ll be a fun conversation. ‘Hey mom, you know you owe me for your tits.’”

Liam’s ears burned. He thought about the guys. Leo, Tom, Dylan, and a few of the others at school. He knew at least one of them was watching this. And even if they weren’t, they would hear about it from somebody, somewhere, soon and they’d be viewing the video later on on youtube.

“No, but in all seriousness, I probably do owe him something. I play that part as well as I do because I have experience… as a mom, I mean.”

The audience ‘awwed’ again.

She looked out at them with her smile. “Thank you!” she said.

East looked at her, nodding with a comforting grin. After the audience finished their applause, East said, while still nodding subtly: “So, can I touch em?”

“Nope!”

Laughter.

“Okay then, with that we’ll be back with your new guest after the commercial break!”

Liam’s mom looked out at the audience, smiling as the camera pulled back, capturing the entirety of the stage, and the band which played off to the left. Even at that distance, her breasts were extremely noticeable within the shot. Even more than her fiery head of hair.

Liam only had a second to register what he just saw. His phone began to ring. He looked down at it with the corner of his eye. He could just barely make out his mom’s face in the peripheral, with his face pressed next to hers, smiling.

It rang again.

He shifted in his chair.

It rang again.

He sighed.

It rang again.

Before it could ring a fourth time, he grabbed it and put it to his ear.

“Yes.”

“Uh,” his mom said, flustered by the greeting. “I uh… it’s your mom… do you not know who I am?”

Liam felt his hardened heart begin to crumble. “Oh,” he said. “I apologize. I thought it was that bill collector again.”

“You’re the bill collector, remember?”

“Huh?”

“Did you watch the interview?”

Liam put the phone to his other ear. “Yeah,” he said.

“The bill collector? You’re going to ask me for royalties… remember?”

“…yeah,” he said.

“I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Asking you for royalties?”

“No… the jokes. I hope you didn’t mind we brought you up. I-“

“No.”

“-just thought I wanted to get it out there how much our relationship inspires my work.”

Liam looked down at his knees. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes wide, his face stone-like. “I get it… it was nice.”

His mom growled with excitement. “I’m glad you liked it. It was a good appearance, I think. Maybe the best I’ve had. I think a lot of people are going to watch it. On youtube, especially. That’s my audience, they say. Young men, fifteen to twenty-eight.”

Liam shifted his head.

“Yeah, they love me on youtube.” She suddenly snorted to herself humorously. “At least if the comments are anything to go by.”

Liam didn’t respond.

---

The video had initially been streamed to youtube just as the episode aired on television, and it was still there now. Liam knew this as he tossed and turned in bed.

He tried to get some sleep, but every time he shut out all noise by settling, or placing the pillow over his ear, he could hear Dylan’s voice, and Tom’s along with it, prodding him. “Your mom had a big appearance,” Dylan’s voice came in loud and clear, but distant as if it were being yelled from across a field.

“It’s nice to see her get so much off her chest,” Tom’s disembodied voice said, his grin invisible but understood.

Liam twisted around again, readjusting his pillow below and another beneath him. Sleep wouldn’t come.

Suddenly, he sat up. He looked at his bedroom doorway, seeing his black hallway.

He got up. He went to the kitchen.

His laptop sat on the kitchen table, waiting for him.

He fumbled in the dark for the stool, and at finding it, he sat down.

He opened up his laptop screen, opened up firefox (which must have been an accident. This was the browser he usually used for porn), and he went to youtube.

“A-u-g-u-s-r-t -J-o-n” he typed.

Her name came up.

“August Jones Darryl East.”

He clicked on the video.

It was the same as it was on tv.

Liam took a deep breath, knowing there would be a sea of comments below. He scrolled downward.

The top-rated comment was “( . ) ( . )”

Commenting on it, another comment read “/ \ / \” ( ) ( ) \ O / \ O /

The second highest comment read “her son is going to need some serious psychiatric counselling after this one.”

Liam hung his head. He felt his face burning.

Another one read “I’m going to have to thank her son myself for not sucking too hard on those puppies.”

“My mom when I finally do housework: ‘Thanks for taking out the trash, honey!’

Autumn Jones: “Thanks son for not sucking too hard.”

“Imagine knowing that your mom is the most jacked-off to woman in the world. Holy shit. I’d hang myself.”

Liam shut his laptop.

He sat there in the darkness for a moment.

He then stood up, turned around, and headed back to his room.

The kitchen sat silent, his laptop resting on the table, inert.

A few moments passed in that silence.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Liam came back into the kitchen and sat on the stool, this time knowing exactly where it was in the dark. He whipped open his laptop screen.

He scanned over more comments.

“It’s not often you see a perfect hourglass, but without the glass or the sand.”

“She makes me laugh like nobody else.”

“She has such an endearing smile. I’d love it if she were my mom. I’m a waitress myself.”

“Everybody’s talking about her tits. Is anyone else as enamored with her ass as I am?”

“Funniest actress in the world.”

“Just let the man touch them.”

“Beautiful person, in and out.”

“Those titties turned me into a man.”

Liam sat there, his face flushed in the light of his computer screen, his glassy eyes scanning over comment after comment.

Then he saw the video suggestions on the side.

“Autumn Jones Sexy Compilation #8”

His mom stood there, on the edge of a pool, in a bikini, one solitary moment of hers frozen in time.

He looked at it for a moment.

Then he clicked on the video.

The first image was of his mom walking into the restaurant set, clothed in a yellow duckie costume. Alice walked up beside her, dressed similarly. Alice blinked for a second, and the bill of the costume fell to the ground. Liam’s mom bent down to grab it, and when she did, the seat of her costume tore open, giving the audience a perfect shot of her underwear-clad ass.

The next clip had her running in a marathon, her breasts bouncing around in slow motion in a Chariots of Fire parody sequence. Though the music from the film wasn’t playing. The uploader had edited Brick House by the Commodores into the video.

His mom walked through a strange version of the family living room in the show, the edges of the shot blurred, as it was a scene happening within the imagination of her son’s friend. She was entirely naked (or made to look as much. She was wearing a bikini underneath) with whipped cream and cherries over her breasts.

Most of the clips were less salacious than these, but not by much. The Knockers uniform she and Alice wore was a dangerously low-cut yellow top, leaving little to the imagination, with “Knockers” written directly on the bust, nearly warped by her giant chest. On her ass, she wore orange shorts which hugged her tightly, showing every nuance of shape she had in her ass and upper thighs.

Liam watched the unending train of video clips.

He then saw the topmost edge of the first comment.

He felt a strange feeling in his chest.

He scrolled down.

“I’d gladly be the last in a 30-man bukkake for her.”

Liam scrolled to the next comment, its contents reflected in the moisture of his open eye.

“I’d be eating at Knockers everyday?”

He scrolled further.

“Why doesn’t anybody just do what Mr. Montgomery did, and put a camera in her dressing room backstage? He’d be an internet legend.”

Liam scrolled down further, his hand shaking on the mouse.

“The things I’d do to this woman. I’d be her total slave. Either that or I’d make her mine.”

More.

“They should do more things with her ass. We don’t get to see it enough.”

More.

“Imagine that hot dog was a cock.”

More.

“She’d be number one in my harem.”

More.

“I love how they put her through the ringer. Good.”

Liam sat there, scrolling through comment after comment, not being able to stop himself.

Each comment having hundreds to thousands of likes and comments beneath it.

Liam could imagine his mom, standing in the sunlight, her hair wet, as she turned around and looked at him with a smile, a sea of adoring fans behind her, all laughing. The sounds of rushing slide water falling to the pool behind him.

Liam looked into her eyes. She stood there, her breasts free and large, looking down at him.

Her tits were free and open that day. He had seen them. Everyone there had. Dylan’s cousin had seen her tits open and exposed. Their shape was perfect. Too perfect for this world. Too perfect to be covered, and too perfect to be seen, like they were perpetually meant to exist between the two. But on that day…

Liam rubbed at the crotch of his underwear as he greedily scoured through more comments.

His mom’s tits, nice and big and exposed in the sun, facing him in his mind, just as they were on that day. Nice and big and luscious and wet and free and being enjoyed by other men.

Liam went for his waistband.

“Like if she’s your favorite jerk-off material.”

Liam pulled out his cock.

“Like if you wish you could see those tits.”

Liam massaged his dick.

“Like if you want to rape her.”

He felt a sudden shudder run though his body.

“Like if you wish she was your own mom.”

Liam felt the waves of pleasure run through him like massaging fingers, and gush after gush of cum ran over his knuckles. His hips were electric with tugging pleasure as every muscle in his body played its part in his orgasmic rush.

He stood up, backing away from his computer enough that each drop would fall harmlessly to the floor. His stool fell behind him.

Liam could imagine her there, her beautiful smile, her eyes creased, as her big tits hung there before him. Just like he remembered them. Nice and big and no longer mysterious. No longer hiding in the haze of imagination, forever to be one with the memories of so many, including him.

The waves of pleasure had met their crescendo, and slowly, but surely they began to pulse with lowering intensity.

Until Liam only stood there, hunched over like a goblin, staring at the screen. His mom’s body galivanted across it, a clown in all but makeup.

Liam stood there, awkward and strange. The magic gone. The thrill evaporated and replaced by a void, with a smell in the air which made him sick.

Liam grabbed his laptop screen. He slammed it shut.

---

For the following weeks, Liam became like a Buddhist monk, terrified of touching himself, or of having any sexual thoughts to speak of whatsoever. He tried during a few nights, though thoughts of beautiful young women, some of whom he knew from class or the hallways of his school, would somehow morph in his perverse mind into images of his very own mother, and the naked realization that what he was doing by enjoying these women was not so different from what people were doing when enjoying his very own mom.

As the nights passed, Liam would fall asleep hard, and in sleep, he’d find the release his body needed through wet dreams.

A recurring dream would happen involving his mom on one of the various sets of Bad Mom, except these sets would always look like cheap imitations. And though she was his one and only mom, her clothing and hair almost looked like it was made up in imitation of the show, rather than done the way it would have been on the show proper. His mom would exist there, as both herself, and like another woman playing herself, simultaneously.

In one of these dreams, Mr. Montgomery stood at the counter. He watched as Jessica came in, clad in her famous duck suit. Looking ridiculous, yet walking with a primal sex-appeal all the same, her hips swaying from side to side in a way that seemed exaggerated for even her.

“Jessica,” Mr. Montgomery said, with a vague grin. “Alice dropped her bill again.”

Jessica looked down at it, sitting tattered there on the floor. “I guess I’ll have to grab that then.”

She turned away from the direction of the studio audience, she looked back at them with her trademark smile, this time more devilish though, her ass accentuated by her stance, and she kneeled down to grab the bill.

Suddenly, with a sound which seemed to be pumped in artificially through speaker, the seat of her duck suit tore, and her giant ass popped through, this time completely bare, making itself plain to the audience.

They began to laugh.

“Jesssica!” Mr. Montgomery barked. “You made a mockery of this establishment yet again.”

“I guess you’re going to have to take it out of my paycheck, Monty,” she said with her index finger to her lips playfully.

“I guess I’m going to have to take it out of your ass.”

He rushed to her, grabbing her by the loose fabric of the ridiculous suit, and then he bent her over one of the tables, where a family of four was eating, and he began to plow her.

“Wow,” the father said, chewing on a fry. “Dinner and a show.”

Without explanation, Jessica’s tits hung out of her suit as she was being reamed from behind, and they jostled about on the plate of the teenage son.

“Golly! This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

The audience laughed.

Liam woke up, his underwear wet with cum, and his body still vibrating all over from the sweet blanket of that dream, even as he felt a horrible tug in his throat.

---

Liam sat on his couch in the dark, watching another episode. He looked down at his cock, which hung out of his pants. It throbbed in the light of the television. He took a deep breath. He was trying not to touch it.

The big man on screen was sweating almost as much as he was, standing over Jessica, who was laying down on a table topless, enjoying his massaging hands. Her breasts were pressed against the table so that their sides projected outward like smores.

He slowly let his hands go down the sides of her back, inching them closer and closer, with mock innocence, towards those giant breasts.

Suddenly, the fire alarm went off.

Jessica’s face shot up in a look of shock.

Her masseuse watched in horror as she stood up, she put her hands over her breasts, covering them, and she ran out of the room, all while he stood there, his arms extended forward, a monument to what could have been, despondent.

Liam lay there, his cock in the foreground, his mom, topless but with her breasts covered by her palms, standing in a backlot set as the ravenous eyes of extras were glued to her.

She looked out at her stunned admirers, and gave a little shrug. The audience erupted into laughter just as the frame froze and the music began playing.

The phone rang.

Liam answered it.

His cock throbbed in the TV light.

“Sweetheart! So how’d you like it.”

“It was good,” he said. He touched his dick with his middle and index finger and then pulled them away.

“Favorite part! Go!”

Liam felt a wiriness in him, a frustration, and an impatience. His dick throbbed, but when it did so, it was almost as if it itself was angry or anxious for something to happen.

“I liked the massage,” Liam said.

“Yeah,” his mom replied. “That was funny. I had to practice getting my hands over my chest to cover myself as soon as I got up. It’s not as easy as it looks. Damn… being an actress is hard.”

“So they saw them?” Liam asked quickly, again poking at his cock’s head.

“Saw… saw what?”

Liam didn’t say anything.

“Oh,” she said. Liam could imagine her shaking her head to adjust to her understanding. “No, no. I mean I practiced in private. They had cameras rolling. Do you think I’d let them catch that on tape?” She laughed.

Liam sat there for a second, breathing hard. He wanted to say something, something about the last scene, about standing outside. About how it would be funnier if she wasn’t covering them. Or if a firefighter came and ‘rescued’ her first. Or if she were sprayed with a hose. Or if Alice was there to cover them for her.

He then shook his head, horrified, not only by where his mind was going, but by his inability to stop it from going there. And more than that, his inability to consistently keep it private.

“Listen mom,” he said. “I… uh… I have to go.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I’m glad you liked the episode! We had a new writer at the helm and…”

“That’s great, mom,” Liam interrupted. “Goodbye.”

“uh… before you go, sweetheart, I have something I need to tell you.”

Liam said nothing.

“I won’t be able to make it home for your birthday.”

Again? came to Liam’s mind. “Oh,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” Liam could hear her draw in breath. “The shooting schedule has been hectic this year.”

“I understand,” he said, dryly.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Good,” she said, her voice cheering up. “That’s good.” She laughed. “Because I couldn’t afford having another enemy.”

“Yeah,” Liam said.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “Okay then, talk to you soon, Liam?”

He looked at the screen. “After next episode… like always…”

“It’s a date,” his mom said.

“Yeah,” he said.

Liam hung up the phone.

He looked down at his cock.

It hung there in the darkness, almost as if it were looking up at him, the only company in his home.

He looked down at it dryly.

It twitched.

---

Liam sat on the couch, a week later, watching Bad Mom yet again. It was his birthday. He was one year older. He was one year wiser. And he was alone.

His cock sat there with him, but unlike Liam, who sat there, motionless. His cock moved about, like a snake being charmed by each scene. Every time it moved, Liam breathed out as if he were in private pain. He would occasionally shift in his seat, and it would fall to one thigh or the other, or it would be too stiff to even touch his thigh, only throbbing upward as he looked at the screen.

Jessica and her son rode in their SUV.

They argued over something small. Something meaningless, some misunderstanding. And the studio audience laughed with each joke, no matter how insignificant.

Afterwards, Jessica’s son looked out the window, annoyed with his mom, embarrassed by her.

She sat there, turning the wheel from side to side as if actually driving.

She tilted her head over at him. “We’re almost there, ready to get wet?”

It cut to a close-up shot of her son’s face, it contorting into a look of bewildered disgust.

The audience found it funny.

Liam looked at the screen, his brows furrowing.

Suddenly Jessica’s arm shot up, pointing out her windshield. “There it is!” she said. “Poseidon’s Adventure. Wow, you can even see it from outside the park!”

Her son shifted upward, and he tilted his head forward, looking out the windshield and upward. It’s like a mountain!”

“It’s like two mountains!” Jessica exclaimed.

Suddenly, the look of wonder started to fade from her son’s face. He turned his head and looked over at his mom’s chest, where two ‘mountains’ hung.

The audience laughed.

Liam sat there, his bottom lip hanging open.

He sat through the commercial break, feeling an unease in his stomach.

Then the show came back on.

His mom stood there, among a surplus of passing extras, with her ‘son’ standing next to her, the both of them in their swimwear.

His mom stood there, her yellow bikini barely covering her chest.

“We’re almost there,” she said. “The line’s thinning out like Monty’s hairline.”

A young man standing before the two of them in line, turned his head around, his thumb between his teeth, and he looked directly at Jessica’s chest. He smiled, and turned back around.

“You know…” she said. “I think we might be able to skip a few spots in line.”

She leaned out a little bit and looked ahead.

“At least up to…. That girl in red there.”

The girl in red suddenly turned around, looking at Jessica’s massive breasts, hanging over the banister. She smiled.

“No, we can skip her too.”

“Oh, mom!” her son said.

The screen flipped, and Jessica and her son stood at the mouth of the slide.

Liam stared at the screen, his face frozen.

A young man stood off to the side with a whistle between his lips, blowing in it to signal the next person in line to go.

Jessica looked at him. “Hey,” she said.

He blew into the whistle, startled she was addressing him.

She back up for a second, then leaned in again. “Is there a bathroom near here?”

“Umm,” he said. “Yeah, yeah, actually. It’s down there.” He pointed off screen.

“Oh,” she said. “Should I…” she grabbed the banister and put one leg over. “Should I just hop over this ledge?”

“No, no!” the young man said.

“Oh, mom,” her son said, exasperated.

“You can…” the young man looked around. “The slide! The slide! You can take the slide, it takes you right down.” His poked his chin up with authoritative duty.

“Wow,” she said. “Brave new world.”

She got down in the water and waited.

Second passed and nothing.

She looked up.

The young man stood there, looking down at her giant chest with his whistle in his mouth.

“Umm,” she said.

Startled back into awareness, he blew the whistle, and Jessica said “Alley oop!”, crossed her hands over her chest, and let herself be sucked down the slide.

The young man turned and gripped the side of the banister, waiting for her to come out at the pool on the bottom.

“Ugh, dude,” Jessica’s son said. “You can’t even see her that far down.”

“With bazongas like that, I could see her on Mars.”

Jessica’s son shut his eyes in disgust. “Jesus.”

“Hey,” the young man said, still looking down. “Why don’t you just get in the slide and leave me the hell alone while I do my job?”

“They pay you to ogle the customers?”

“No,” he said. “They pay me to throw them out of the park.”

“Okay, okay.” Jessica’s son got in the slide.

The young man, not even looking at him, half-heartedly blew the whistle. It made a negligible squeak noise.

Jessica’s son slid down the slide.

As he did, the scene cut to a pre-recorded face shot of the actor going down the slide. His face contorted into many expressions underneath his burgundy mop of a wig, from pure joy, to white-knuckled horror, as he went downward.

At a certain point, his eyes narrowed as he looked ahead, as if he could see something coming at him in the distance.

Suddenly, to the amusement of those watching, a wet bikini top, its cups gigantic, slapped him in the face, covering up both his eyes. He slid down further, his eyes covered up, his mouth hanging open in shock.

A bunch of onlookers stood near the bottom of the slide’s splashpool, hearing the echo of a screaming female voice coming through the hole.

Suddenly, there was a splash, and water flew up, dousing the sea of extras.

They all stood there, looking down into the pool.

Jessica could be heard off screen. “Oh, hey everyone.”

They looked at her with their jaws open.

“Hey! Where’d my…. Uh oh….”

Liam sat there, his eyes wide, his jaw open, and his cock throbbing hard.

He sat there as the theme song played, not believing what he just saw. Not knowing how to process it. He had just seen his very own memories, packaged, and processed, cleaned, and punched up by a team of writers, his mom being among them apparently. Their pens and their minds working their way through his memories as if they were theirs to pilfered.

He sat there motionless for a few moments. And then the theme music ended.

He felt a weird sensation.

He looked over at his phone. It lay there, its screen black.

She didn’t call, he thought.

And the thought occurred to him. She can’t call. She can’t face me. Not after what she put on screen. And then even worse. She doesn’t want to talk to me.

Liam’s cock throbbed. He looked down at it. It was hard, and twitching, almost looking up at him. His friend. His only roommate. It was here for his birthday. She wasn’t.

Liam thought of the stunned faces that stood there, extras being told to make that look, being told to imagine Autumn Jones standing there in that pool, topless. Her breasts, from bottom to top, and her nipples, looking up back at them. They were told to do it, and they all did, wishing they could see the real thing.

I saw the real thing, Liam thought. Not them. Not the writers. Not Mr. Montgomery. Not the idiot who plays me. I saw them. Me and a few people from this wrinky dink little town she thinks she’s too good for.

Liam, for the first time in a month, grabbed his cock with the fullness of his hand. It tickled pleasurably at the grasp of his palm, its lack of action bringing it a long lost sensitivity.

He saw his mom, looking at her wet and bare back, her hair flat with moisture, smooth, as dozens of faces looked down. She turned around, looking at him with those big beautiful green eyes. And those full breasts, their size and their shape, unimpeded, with her nipples poking up at him. He saw it all.

America couldn’t have that. It wasn’t there’s to have. It never would be.

It belonged to him. Him and that few dozen who were there that day. That band of brothers, initiates in a secret rite.

And then he imagined one of those initiates, his worthy hand, thrusting toward her wet locks of hair, gripping them in his palm, and pulling her upward.

The smile on her face, smug and self-assured, disappearing, replaced by a scowl as she was dragged out of the afterpool.

Her tits jiggling violently from the suddenness and strength of the tugging.

And then it was happening. His mom was being fucked. Not by Mr. Montgomery, or Jessica’s son, or her neighbor, or Alice’s boyfriend, or Berry. But by real people. Regular people. The salt of the earth. Men. Real men. Not stars or archetypes or figures of some writer’s imagination. Real flesh and blood men who worked and lived and sweated and whose stories had value.

Jessica was tugged between them, panting, moaning, grunting, screeching as she was tugged.

Liam stood at their side now, and as he watched her mouth being invaded by two competing cocks, sometimes the both of them finding their way inside at once, and her breasts being groped by a sea of furious hands, pinching, pulling, smacking, palming them, her ass, big and perfect, presenting itself to him.

Her neck was restrained, she couldn’t turn around. Liam, neared up behind her. He grabbed her famous hips, feeling her expanding waist on the heel of his hands. He pulled her ass close to his naked thighs. His cock twitched as it moved within the shadow cast by her ass.

He moved toward her open hole.

Liam tugged on his dick furiously on the couch. “Yes” he said, imagining his mom in every state, every position, every act of sexual aggression. “Rape Autumn Jones,” he said. “Rape her. Rape Jessica. Rape my mom.”

His mom’s ass squished within his lap as she screamed, unaware that her son was one with her assaulters. He was one extracting joy from her shape and the feel of her insides.

And with that, he felt orgasm coming on, and though he knew it was wrong in the fantasy, he kept thrusting inside of her, and while he knew it was wrong in reality, he kept jerking off at the thought of all this, not wanting to stop. Not until he found that release.

His balls tightened up severely. A month’s worth of cum began to gush and rocket out of his penis, gushing with satisfying pleasure. “Yes,” Liam squealed. “Take her down! Take down Autumn Jones. Her tits! Take them! Take them!”

The pleasure felt almost unbelievable, like a rake of pure velvet running through his soul, his every inch its avatar, pulling across him until he almost felt like he could disassemble at the level of atoms and become nothing but the orgasm itself.

And just at the that moment, he felt the highest point, and then he saw the incline downward, and even in his pleasure, he prepared himself for it.

The sensible world began to come back to him, the pleasure recede, and then he sat there, shocked, not just by what he had just done, but also that the guilt wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

*knock knock*

He turned his head, looking over the back of the couch.

Standing there, silhouetted by the frosted glass of the door, was a perfect hourglass, with a nest of familiar shape at its top, its hue and orang-red.

His mouth fell open.

“No,” he said. And then his eyes evolved from shock to an expanding joy.

Autumn stood out on her old stoop. She waited there, hoping her son was home. She was about to ring the bell again when the door rocketed open, and her son, her very birthday boy stood there, his face glowing.

“Surprise!” she said with a smile, her eyes in crinkled pleasure. “Oh, don’t you just love a good twist?”

Liam shot towards her and grabbed her in his squeezing arms.

His mom laughed, holding him just as hard.

Liam stood there, feeling her in his grip. Tangible, real, there, breathing against his chest.

And as her giant breasts pressed into his beating heart, his other housemate, waiting in his pants, throbbed below in anticipation for what was to come next.

Continue on to Part II:

https://www.bluvelvet99.com/post/the-red-carpet-part-ii