The Red Carpet (Part II)

Liam sat next to his mom. Her presence was heavy in the driver seat as she turned the wheel, weaving through traffic.

He tried to not turn to look at her and accepted the small glimpses of her he’d catch in his peripheral. Her red hair, like fire in the sun, and her body as if it were poured into place, like a raindrop perpetually falling, or in the moment it touched pavement or a blade of grass.

“Same old town,” she said, looking out through the windshield. “I thought I could leave it to its lonesome and it would grow. But no,” she shook her head as if serious. “I should have known this baby needed my tender loving care.”

Liam smiled.

He looked over at her. She turned and looked at him, smiling at her son with her big, beautiful green eyes.

She turned to face the road.

Liam’s sight slowly crawled down toward her chest. The car hit a small bump in the road, and her enormous tits, their cleavage bare in her gorgeous top, moved with one solitary jiggle, and then were still. He quickly turned his head and looked away.

As he kept his gaze ahead, he heard a sniffing noise.

He looked over at her.

She opened the window and stuck her head out and sniffed more.

“The air,” she said. “Fresh. That’s something I miss.”

Liam looked down at her cleavage again as she sniffed, his expression blank.

They pulled up in the diner parking lot.

“Wow,” she said. “This place hasn’t changed much either.” She looked over at her son, her eyes crinkled with laugh lines as she smiled. “So it’ll be just like old times. Like I never left.”

As Liam and his mom walked toward the diner’s door, a couple walking past looked at her, and then the man did a double take. He nudged his wife in her ribs as Liam and Autumn past. Autumn didn’t even seem to notice.

The greeter seemed to be beside himself as he ushered Liam and his mom to their booth.

“Uh,” his mom said, in a revelatory tone as they approached. “Your sixth birthday. Remember?”

Liam nodded.

“Your… uh… your server will be with you two shortly.”

“Spectacular,” Autumn said.

Liam watched as the greeter walked, his every joint stiff, back toward the front door. That’s what it is to be starstruck. The physical embodiment of it, he thought. Then he turned to face his mom. She sat there, flipping through pages of the menu. Her motions were unceremonious, typical, yet Liam, as if he were an outside observer, a distant fan, seemed to be viewing his mom through the glass of a television screen. Her every movement, no matter how mundane, or how familiar, seemed to just sparkle. His gaze lowered. And every harmless flip of the menu page was another subtle shake of her milk-white cleavage. He looked over in the greeter’s direction, only to catch him trying to look back at the table with the corner of his eye. The bell above the front door rang, and the young man quickly turned around. Maybe a little bit more than starstruck.

“Mmm, delicious,” Autumn said. “I feel like the queen raccoon, the whole… like…” she moved her open hand around in circles over the table. “…with just the entire… trashcan in front of my nose.”

Liam smiled at her.

She looked down at the menu with her smile in the corner of her mouth. “I guess I should… uh… just say that I’m only joking in case anyone’s listening in.” Her eyes scanned over the page. “This is my kind of menu.”

Liam knew that his mom wasn’t lying, that she really did prefer the food and ambience of a small town diner over the pretentious palette-baiting of ritzier kitchens, but even this preference almost added to the distance between the soles of her feet and the dirty earth that she floated above. Even the silky sleeves of her shirt, without drawing too much attention to themselves, swayed with her wealth and good taste, a wealth and good taste which was hidden from the sun beneath the shelter of her entire bust, which almost spilled out onto the tacky wood of the table. For the first time in Liam’s life, he was shocked to find he was beginning to see his mom as something more than just his mom. As something larger than life. And his heart and stomach fluttered with that fact ambiguously. Watching her, sitting before that menu, on this chair, in this diner, was like watching a giant work itself into a thumbtack, and then sit there within it, uneventfully, the uneventfulness its own spectacle.

His mom looked up at him, her eyes shining emerald green, and she motioned with her head toward the menu. “So… you pick your poison yet?”

---

Autumn’s hands flapped through the air with real animation as if she were swatting flies. “I told him! I want Rebecca playing Alice. You’re not going to have me out there, a one-woman army, stranded with my tits in my hands.” As she explained all this, Liam looked past her rapidly articulating arms, at the jiggling cleavage which sat behind them. “They said something about how… um… her bust would distract from mine. Like, guys can have too much bust… Gary’s gay, by the way. Not a judgement. Just… that’s probably why he thinks like that.”

Liam smiled at his mother, awkwardly, unsure of what to say, not enjoying the direction the conversation took. Then he caught something in his peripherals. He turned to see a middle-aged man standing there, looking over at the table.

Liam followed the man’s gaze toward his own mother, who looked around non-chalantly. The endpoint of the man’s line of sight stopped dead at the center of her large tits. Liam shifted in his seat, realizing only now that it might have been a bad idea coming here. He looked around, worried he’d see someone he’d recognize. Before he knew it, the staring man was at the end of the table, looking down directly into Autumn’s face.

Liam’s mom sat there, silent, her hands together, each thumb playing with the other. Miraculously, she didn’t even seem to be noticing the man standing right there, even as he blocked her line of sight.

“Autumn Jones!” the man exclaimed.

She looked up. Her thumbs stopped. “Yes?” she said.

“It is you!”

She drew her eyes from him, looked at her arms, which she extended before her, then down at her chest, and below to her thighs and feet. “It is me,” she said. “Wow.”

“Let me just tell you. My whole family loves your show.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes crinkling.

“You’re a laugh riot. My wife always worries about me, how much I laugh at your stuff. She has to pause the show so I can breathe sometimes.”

Liam’s mom leaned over, with her elbow on the table, and she rested her cheek on her hand. “So what you’re doing now is thanking me for almost killing you then?” She smiled.

The man stopped in his jovialness for a second, as if thinking, as if trying to derive something more from what was just said than he could initially hear.

Starstruck, Liam repeated in his mind.

The man continued, his head bobbing up and down with glee, his cheeks red. “I guess you could say that,” he said with absolute mirth. “Do you… I mean if it wouldn’t be a bother but… do you mind if I take a picture with you? My wife would get a real kick out of it.”

Liam’s mom’s head tilted to the side cartoonishly, as if she were trying to unscrew it, making it look like she was about to say no, but then, just as she snapped her head to the opposite shoulder she said “I’d love to!” with such an immediacy, it sounded like one or two syllables.

Liam watched her shoot up, and saw her giant tits shake from the sharp motion.

His mom grabbed the man. “Like this?” she asked.

“Uh, yes,” he said, redfaced. “That’s fine. Um..” he held his phone in his hand. He looked at Liam. “Can you…?”

Liam looked at them, the man in embarrassed and tomato-skinned, and his mom, tomato-headed, and beaming with good cheer, standing next to him, hip-to-hip.

“Sure,” Liam said, and he grabbed the phone.

Liam snapped a few pictures on the man’s request, and the noticed, for a split second, that in one of them, the man was looking down at his mom’s hanging cleavage. He gritted his teeth. In every picture which followed, including the last, both Liam’s mom and the man looked ahead at the camera, as if no attempt at a peek were taken. Liam handed the man his camera back.

His mom looked over at the stranger. “Have a good day,” she said, and nodded to him.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” the man said, and he slowly stepped away. He continued speaking as he wandered off. “My wife is just going to love it. She’s going to think it’s so funny. I just…”

“You know what’s… uh… weird?” she said as she sat down, her gaze following the man. “I’m pretty sure that guy used to live on our street. Back when you were still young.” She looked over at Liam and leaned in. “And he doesn’t even seem to remember it…”

Liam smiled back at her, ambiguously.

The seal had been broken, and just as Liam’s mom began a new topic of conversation, two girls stood at the edge of the table, all four eyes pointed down into Autumn’s green pools. “Yes!” she said, with a Norma Desmond-esque drawl.

“You’re…” the more confident of the two girls started.

“The Queen of England,” Autumn answered. “Yes, you caught me.” She stood up, and took the liberty of grabbing the ready phone out of the young girl’s hand. She handed it to Liam, looking down at its screen as she did. “And they have camera app up on approach. Perfect, girls.” She politely nudged her way between them. “Like this is good?” She wrapped her arms around the two girls’ shoulders. ”We can make a tit sandwich,” she said.

The girls laughed.

Liam felt an unease. His mom stood there, between the two girls, a perfect model of what they weren’t. Their faces were pretty, but their breasts were nearly invisible next to hers. It was as if one could combine their chest sizes, and they’d still only be a fraction of Liam’s mom. Their youth couldn’t make up for this gap in beauty and shape. And on top of that, Autumn’s bright red hair, and her gorgeous top and tight-fitting skirt, made her stick out all the more as that of a different species to those on her either hip. He snapped a few pictures, and then traded off the phone for the phone of the shyer girl and then he snapped more. Within two of the passing still images he clicked into existence on that phone, he noticed the eyes of the shyer girl lowered toward the expansive centerpiece of the photo: his mom’s pure, white chest.

He handed the phone back to the girl, looking dead into her face as he did. The girl only looked down at her phone, her cheeks red.

Autumn thanked the girls for being fans and sat back down.

“They look so much bigger in person.”

Liam turned around. He saw a group of three men standing there, looking over.

“I wonder how much those bad boys weigh,” one of the men whispered to his friend.

“Pff,” his friend said. “You’d flip off the other end of that seesaw.”

Liam blushed, and just as he turned around, the waiter was standing there.

“Oh perfect,” his mom said. “I’ll get…”

“You’re Autumn Jones, aren’t you?”

Liam’s mom smiled.

Liam stood there, snapping more photos, not just for the waiter, but for a small lineup of customers that was beginning to form. Behind them, other patrons sat, taking photos or looking over with curiosity and excitement.

Just as the line was beginning to dry up, after an annoyingly long time, Liam saw two faces approach, and when he did, he could feel the heat rushing to his face in one giant deluge.

“Bro,” Dylan said. “You didn’t tell us your mom was going to be here.”

“Hello Miss Jones,” Leo said.

“Are you two going to stop growing on me?” Autumn said, her arms spreading outward at her sides. “You look like giants. Especially you, Leo.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and he looked over at Dylan with wide eyes, mouthing “a giant,” and he nodded his head.

Liam watched as she pulled the bare top of her enormous breasts away from Leo’s muscular chest, only to press them with equal firmness against the chest of Dylan.

Dylan squeezed her extra hard, and he looked over at Liam with a subtle curve in the corner of his mouth.

When they let go of one another, Liam saw Dylan’s hand drag along her lower back, dangerously close to her ass, before he broke contact with her.

“What’s new, Miss Jones,” Leo asked, as Dylan reached into his back pocket for his phone.

“Here bro,” he said. “I want some pics with our town’s biggest star.”

He let his arm fall over her shoulder and he pulled her close.

“Leo, Leo. Get her from the other end.”

Leo smirked at the wording, and then he let his arm wrap around her waist.

“Okay!” Autumn said, smiling. “A photo with two of my favorites.”

Liam grit his teeth hard as she snapped the pictures. In half of them, Dylan looked directly down at his mom’s chest. In the other half, he was looking, not at the camera, but through it, as if directly into Liam’s eyes. Leo had a bad case of the wandering eyes as well, and it took a few pictures before Liam could end on one where both of his friends had their eyes aimed forward where they should be.

“Thanks man,” Dylan said, taking back his phone, and the inside joke couched within it, back into his hand.

“How is everybody,” Liam’s mom asked. “How are your mom’s doing?”

“My mom’s cool. As usual,” Leo said. “Her dance studio is growing. She had to move to a bigger venue.”

“And your grandma?”

“Tough as nails. Like always.”

“Good, good.” Autumn turned to Dylan. “And Gianna. How’s she? Still a party animal?”

Dylan waved his hand at the wrist dismissively. “She’s doing… whatever.”

“Oh,” Autumn said, and she looked over at her son with the corners of her mouth pushed outward, realizing she had just touched an awkward third rail. “Okay guys,” she said, sitting down, her breasts jiggling for them as she plopped down on the booth seat. “Say hi to your family for me.”

“Will do, Miss J.” They both left back to their table with wily smiles on their faces, their motion ripe with a swagger, as if it dripping with whatever magic coated Liam’s mom’s voluptuous body.

She looked at her son. “That was nice, wasn’t it?”

Liam stared at her for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, dryly.

She giggled, grabbed her menu, and looked down at it. “Now,” she said. “Where the hell did that waiter go? I’m starving.”

---

“Geeze louise,” she said. “This is delicious. This is what I imagine the food at Knockers tastes like. How’s yours?”

“It’s good.”

“The only thing they’re missing…” she said, and then she extended her rounded palms in front of her chest. “… is the knockers.” She wiped her mouth and then threw the napkin down on her plate. “I guess that’s why I’m here.”

Liam sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

She looked up at him.

When he caught her looking at him with concern, he gave a false smile, putting her back at ease.

“When’s the last time you ate here?” she asked.

Liam looked up, feigning as if he had to think about it, when in reality he knew the answer immediately. “I think… I think it was the last birthday where you… were here.”

She looked up at him. “Oh,” she said.

He shifted in his seat again.

She looked at him awkwardly. Then she looked around. A smile began to form in the corner of her mouth. She looked back at her son with the smile only gaining ground across her face. “Hey Liam,” she said, as if she were a shady businessman.

Liam looked at her.

“Remember when we used to come here and your dad and I would get the staff to come sing to you… and… you’d get super embarrassed by it?”

Liam only stared at her, mortified.

She looked at him, and then snorted and looked down at her plate. “Oh,” she said. “It’s nothing, I just thought that was super funny.” She looked up. “Oh, that’s the waiter coming by there. Just in time, I just wanted to talk to him about something. Nothing important. Oh, waiter,” she called with her finger up in the air.

Liam let his face fall into the palm of his right hand. “Oh no,” he muttered to himself.

“Waiter!”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Oh, thank you. It’s just my son, Liam Jones here, is now a year older, starting today. And I just thought… and maybe it’s because I’m a musical person… that this warrants a song.”

“For sure, Misses Jones,” the man said with a smile.

“’Miss,’” she corrected.

“I’ll just go to the kitchen and inform them. Would he like a cake?” He looked at Liam, whose face was half-hidden in his hand.

“Please,” she said, and the waiter walked off.

Liam looked up at her. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“I wanted the free cake,” she said. “I’m not made of money.”

“You’re made of nothing but money.”

“Oh,” she said, leaning forward. “You’re sweating pretty hard. Is it hot in here?”

Liam shifted in his seat.

Moments later, a bright point of light moved across the diner floor, with three members of the staff standing behind it.

Liam sunk into his seat.

Beyond the two men and one woman singing happy birthday at him, he saw his two friends sitting in the background, with smiles, through the swaying bodies of the crooning wait staff.

“Happy birthday dear Liam,” his mom’s voice broke in with deliberate obnoxious flare.

“Happy birthday to you!”

The cake was placed on the table.

Autumn waved her hand around flippantly, and in a dry speaking voice, she said “and many more.”

“Okay,” Liam said. “You got your blood cake. Are you happy now?”

“I’ve never been happier.”

“Enjoy,” the lead waiter said.

Liam just looked up at him.

The staff disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Mmm,” Autumn said, her mouth full of cake. “This is good.”

A bit of the cake frosting hung around the corner of her mouth. And Liam watched it, not feeling in the mood to inform her that it was there. And as she lifted another forkful, the icing dropped, landing on her cleavage. Liam glared at it. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to notice. She only kept chewing.

“You sure you don’t want some?”

She looked up at him with her beautiful green eyes.

---

The staff watched as they left, as did the patrons. Her presence, her fame, her body, and her humor, left from the building, where it had been sanctified for just one moment. But that moment would last it a lifetime.

The sky was beginning to get dark. “So when are you leaving?” Liam asked.

She didn’t say anything. She only kept walking toward the car.

After a few more seconds, Liam asked again. “So when are you leaving?”

She looked at him. “Tomorrow,” she said, then she looked ahead.

“Hey!” somebody yelled.

Liam looked over to see the middle-aged man from earlier following them. He had one arm raised. Liam’s mom didn’t even seem to notice him.

“Autumn Jones!” he called.

She still didn’t notice.

He said it again, now much closer, and she turned around. Her face broke into a smile.

“Hello,” she said. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Hey,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.” He pulled out his phone. “I… the other pictures. They’re not there anymore. Can I get another one?”

“Sure,” she said, without thinking about it. And got ready to get beside them.

“Here,” he said, and almost stumbled forward to put the phone into Liam’s hand.

Liam felt the phone being pressed aggressively into his palm, and he could smell alcohol on the man’s breath.

He lifted the phone, happy it would be the last photograph for the day.

And he noticed, just before he was about to snap a picture, that the previous picture was the last of the pictures he took inside the diner.

He looked back at the man and his mother through the phone, seeing their bodies pressed up against one another at their sides.

And then suddenly, the man’s hand jumped, and he grabbed her right breast, squeezing it in his palms.

Liam, in his shock, snapped the photo then.

The flesh of her tits was so voluminous that it squeezed through the man’s fingers like puddy.

“Hey!” his mom shouted.

“Whatever, bitch,” he said, letting go and stumbling toward Liam and grabbing the phone from his hand.

Liam’s mom adjusted her shirt. And the man stumbled off with his phone, not looking either of them in the eye. His offending hand hung at his side, its fingers still curved as if in the moment of a squeeze.

Autumn looked over at her son, and seeing his shock, her own shock disappeared. She turned and faced the retreating man, forming her hands into fists and pressing them into her wide hips. “Yeah, you better run, mister.” She turned and looked at Liam. “He’s lucky I’m feeling nice today.”

Liam didn’t say anything, he only stood there, shocked.

“I guess that’s a good anti-drinking PSA if I ever saw one. You don’t want to be like that guy now… do you?”

Liam looked over at her, his expression still of shock.

“Do you?”

Liam was still silent.

She grabbed him around his shoulders and began walking to the car. “Let’s go,” she said. “She kissed him on the top of his head.”

As they walked, Liam only looked down at her huge tits jiggling with each step.

*jiggle*

*jiggle*

*jiggle*

*jiggle*

---

“Home, sweet home,” she said. “Well, sort of.” She slammed the car door shut.

They went inside.

“I’m just going to change,” she said. “I’ll use your dad’s room.”

Liam watched as she bent down to grab the handle of her suitcase. Her cleavage spilled downward as she did, as if it were liquid.

Liam went over to the couch and sat down, watching her shapely butt sway from side to side as she dragged the case along its wheels to the room where his dad would have been sleeping if he weren’t away on a trip.

She shut the door the behind her.

As Liam sat there, hearing the feint hints of elastic bands leaving flesh, or snapping back onto flesh, he saw the image of that man’s drunk hand, squeezing against his mom’s tit as she smiled, the event too sudden for her to even adjust her expression to match the moment.

Behind that door, he thought. She was as naked as she was in Mr. Montgomery’s fake photos, the fever dream of some writer. Just a prop polaroid shot so it would be recognizable as a photograph to the audience, and nothing more. There was nothing on the other side of that image.

But the real image of Jessica naked, it was just behind that very door, in his very own house. Flesh and blood. Warm and real.

Liam’s head fell back. His dick throbbed in his pants.

The door rocketed open, and Liam’s mom came back out. She was now wearing something familiar to him. Something that he recognized, not just from seeing it on her before, years ago, but from seeing it laying on top of his own father’s chest while he slept, his pillow wet with tears, in his bed.

“Found my old clothes,” she said. “I hope your father doesn’t mind. Can’t see him fitting in these anyways.”

She looked down at herself.

Her thighs, calves, and feet were bare. Yellow shorts clung to her expansive bottom, which seemed to be unbridled within them. She wore a t-shirt over her chest. And as she began walking forward again, Liam could see by the way her giant tits moved beneath that she was braless under there. She smiled at him, her hair the same color as the light of the living room lamp, and her eyes shining a less-than-terrestrial green.

“So,” she said, falling to the couch seat next to him. “What kind of wild things do you usually do on your birthday?”

Liam looked at her, trying to not let his gaze fall down toward her protruding chest. “I don’t know,” he said. “If dad’s home, I guess we have dinner. If… he’s not. I watch TV.”

There was a sudden look of sadness, one which was tinged at its edges by panic, in Autumn’s eyes. Then it quickly flickered out of existence, and was replaced by a smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. Gifts. Gifts from the sky.” She stood up and looked over the back of Liam’s couch, toward the area before the front door. “I guess they’re still in my suitcase.”

She fell back down to the couch, and Liam looked directly at her chest to catch her tits shaking. It was then that he noticed he could see her nipples poking through the fabric. His mouth almost fell open. Her next statement allowed him to keep his composure.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said, with the index finger of each hand pressed against her chin. “Since I’m a diva of sorts, if you go get my suitcase from your dad’s room, and roll it on out here, you can have whatever you find inside.”

Liam shuttered at the statement, knowing he wasn’t mean to interpret it in the way his brain just did. But he had.

“Sure,” he said. He got up and went down the hall.

“If any of it ends up being broken, it was the baggage handlers at LAX who were responsible.”

Liam went into his dad’s room. His mom’s clothes for the evening, her yellow top and her tight black skirt, sat sprawled, freshly worn, across his dad’s bed. He knew how much of a gift it would have been to his father if he could somehow ensure that they stayed there. Next to her beautiful, low-cut dress, her bra sat, open, with their inner-cups facing upward, and Liam imagined the endless sea of flesh which filled them, and the nipples, whatever their flavor, which rubbed against their inner-fabric.

He continued to her briefcase, seeing all the clothes sitting within. He kneeled down to it, wanting to grab the bra which sat there. Instead, he flipped it shut. He then grabbed the handle without zipping it closed and he dragged it carefully out of the room.

“There you are!” she said. “It’s a new case. I was afraid for a second it had an ‘eat-a-thief’ function.”

Liam dragged the case out into the living room, between the couches and the television they faced.

“Okay,” she said, her breasts swaying cartoonishly as she leaned down toward the ground. “Let’s crack this baby open.”

Her tits disappeared from sight, obscured by her back, and Liam’s eyes wandered down to her shorts, and her big ass which pressed so nicely against them.

She flipped open the case.

As she dug through it, Liam wished he had been standing across so he could see her big tits shaking as she did. He instead watched her ass.

“First off,” she said. “Fundamentals. Shoes.” She lifted a pair of sneakers, their side signed, and presented them before her son’s face. “You know who signed these?”

Liam looked down at them, his eyes wide.

“Wait,” she said, placing them into her son’s hands. “There’s more!”

As she dug through her luggage, Liam examined the shoe. “Leo is going to shit his pants when he sees this.”

“Does he like music too?” she pulled out a Vinyl LP, the cover signed again with a different signature.

“The Weeknd!?” he exclaimed.

“The one and only.”

“Yeah,” Liam said, staring at it. “Leo’s going to be very jealous.”

He put the shoes down on the couch, and he looked over the signature on the LP’s sleeve. He was so preoccupied with it, he didn’t notice his mom’s tits jiggling as she rummaged through her piles of clothes an accessories with an aggressive arm, her tongue pressed firmly into the corner of her mouth.

“And last but not least… look at this bad boy.” She pushed the face of a book toward her son.

“No…” he said.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Believe me, it’s real.”

Liam placed his new LP against the backrest of the couch, and he grabbed the book. Its face signed. He flipped through its pages.

“Mom,” he said. “This… this is beyond cool.”

He looked down into her smiling face, her green eyes crinkled at their edges, and he remembered, for the first time all day, what it was like to look at her and to see his own mom. She was there the entire time, behind the glitz and the fame and the knowledge of who she was. Behind the clothes and the photograph and the ubiquity of that smile across America’s, and the world’s, TV sets, it was his mom this entire time.

Her smile ran from ear to ear, and she tilted her head, lovingly. “I knew you’d like them.” She put her palms down on the ground to get up. “I was lucky. They’re all big fans.”

Liam looked at her. Her enormous tits jiggled as she stumbled back up into standing position. And just like that, she was a star again. A pit had refound its way into Liam’s stomach, and he almost felt like backing up when she moved toward him.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes wide. “Twister!”

Liam stood there for a second, his head leaning away from her wild gaze. “Twister?” he asked.

“Yeah, the game.”

They both stood there for a moment. Then Liam spoke: “what about it?”

“You have it?”

“Yeah,” Liam said, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh,” she said. “When’s the last time you played?”

---

“Right foot to red,” she said.

Liam looked around.

His mom had managed to place herself on all fours, keeping her in a sturdy position, while Liam stood, his torso twisted, with his right leg at the mat’s edge. He looked over. A red circle, untouched, sat behind and to the right of his mom’s right foot.

Liam looked over at her. She twisted her head slightly to look at him but stopped when she felt herself slipping. “Cluts…” she murmured to herself.

Liam lifted his foot, and he slowly guided it toward the open circle. As he did, he could feel his mom’s body getting closer to his, and he rotated toward it with equal parts desire and repulsion. His toes found the circle first, only for the rest of his foot to slide into place. And as it did, Liam felt his mom’s body, the aura it gave off more than anything, inches from his own.

“Wow, you managed to pull off the impossible,” she said.

He looked at the back of her head red head as she said it. It bobbed up and down with each word but Liam couldn’t see her face. She inhaled and he felt her body pressing slightly against his. He looked down at her round ass, which was near being cradled by his pelvis.

And that’s when he began to notice it. His dick was getting hard.

“Let’s see what lady luck has… in store for me,” she said, extending her hand toward the spinner.

She gave it a spin.

Liam watched as it went, smelling her perfume off her neck.

“Blue,” she said. “Right hand.”

She twisted her head around, looking for an open blue space. Liam watched her. Her head stopped moving.

“Ah,” she said, her voice straining as she began to move. “Watch this miracle.”

Liam felt her back press into her chest, and he reflexively backed up, but she reached closer toward the blue until Liam had no space left to go.

Her hand, with all her fingers outstretched, found the blue circle, and she pressed down slowly against it until her palm was flat.

“You see?” she said, her voice almost at a squeak. “A miracle girl.”

Liam felt the cheeks of his mom’s ass, big and wide, pressed against his inner thigh. His dick began to throb.

He tried to back up more, rotating his right foot to shimmy about backward, almost causing him to slip, so he stopped.

“Your turn,” she said.

Liam leaned down to reach toward the spinner, and as he did, he felt the full volume of his mom’s ass press into his pelvis.

He shut his eyes and tried to think about Dylan’s penis. Anything to keep from getting hard.

He spun the device, and quickly pulled his hand back, placing it back down at the edge of its previous circle.

“Wow,” his mom said. “Right hand, yellow.”

Liam stood there, sweating from his forehead, not just from the strain it took to remain in place, but from the focus it took to not become aroused.

He looked around for a free yellow. One sat beyond his conceivable reach before him. Two more behind. One to his right, and he could vaguely catch the glimmer of one to his back-left.

Then he leaned his head, and a small moment of yellow flashed into being before him and then disappeared, as if eclipsed.

He thought it was a trick of his mind. But then it flashed again. His jaw fell open when he realized why.

His mom’s right tit lay there, wrapped in the fabric of her t-shirt, hanging against the yellow circle, swallowing it entire with its fleshy mass.

Liam stood there for a moment.

“Oh,” she said. “Is this the end for Twister champion Liam Jones?”

Liam looked at the back of her head as she spoke. It was like looking into the center of an inferno.

He took a deep breath. He leaned downward to get leverage, and then he lifted his hand, letting it hover closer toward the center mass of his mom’s body.

She looked over, seeing the hand move, and though Liam couldn’t see her face, it was almost as if he could sense her confusion. She couldn’t see the yellow circle either.

As Liam got closer, inch by inch, to the giant mass of that glorious breast, with nothing but a plausible excuse as for why, his dick began to stir. He somehow managed to supress it from getting hard in his pants, and pressing up against his mom’s right butt-cheek. He could feel his teeth chattering subtly within his mouth as he got closer. He could feel it in his heart, and taste it in the palm of his hand, that giant breast whose size was so extreme it was now eclipsing an entire section of the color spectrum.

Just as he was about to reach his mom’s tit, and the circle which lie beneath it, there was a sudden explosion of noise.

Liam’s body tensed up in fear, as if he were caught, and with that he, and his mother below him, fell to the mat.

“Ahh,” she squeaked. Liam’s hip fell, his pelvis hitting the ground, somehow missing the softness of her ass entirely. And with his closed eyes, he missed the jiggle of her breasts as she met the mat below, which then squished them so their ends moved out beyond her torso. At the sudden pain, she rolled onto her side, away from her son.

Liam opened his eyes, watching her, with her eyes closed, and the fleshy tits he had almost felt in his very own hand, rolled away from him.

His mom rolled for another second as the sound went off again. It was her phone. It vibrated on the coffee table as it sounded off.

His mom got up on her knees and reached for it. She looked into its face. “Oh, Gary, you asshole.” She put it back on the table.

She then fell back to the floor and laughed to herself. She rolled over and looked into Liam’s eyes, with a smile, and her eyes a bright emerald. “So,” she said. “Who’s the loser then?”

Liam sat there, saying nothing. But as he looked at his mother, and saw her breasts leaning within the shirt, toward the edge of the mat, their size and weight implying the softness and fullness of their touch, he knew the answer. His dick throbbed hard now.

The loser was him.

---

He sat on the couch, listening to his mom’s clothing coming off for a second time. This time though, she was in the bathroom. It was as if her and his father had never gotten divorced. A strange nostalgia came over him.

Then he heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor tile. Seconds later, he heard it again, and he knew with that that his mom was nude in the bathroom him and his father used.

“Autumn Jones,” he murmured to himself. Naked in my house. The legendary Autumn Jones.

He couldn’t help but consider all the people out there who would kill for this to be their lot.

Even if she were just Jessica, he thought.

The image of Jessica’s son’s friend tip-toeing down toward the bathroom door as the studio audience laughed a naughty laugh played in his mind. He had remembered watching that, and, though he had trouble admitting it to himself, he quietly, in his heart of hearts, rooted for that little pipsqueak to find the keyhole of that bathroom door with his one big open eye, enjoying the visual feasts of the at buxom waitress’s body. It had shocked him to realize that was a thought in his head.

Before he could ruminate on it more, the front door of the house, situated on the left side of the set, rocketed open. Jessica’s son stood there. And in one split second, his friend went from crawling on his knees, inches from the door and the glorious glimpse it held behind it, to shooting up into a military-esque stance within a single second. Jessica’s son, his hair red and his eyebrows brown, stood at the front door, the knob still in his hand, looking at his friend suspiciously while the audience howled at these suburban hi-jinx.

Liam looked into the dark hallway. And as the shower was turned on, he imagined what was beyond that door. He saw his mom’s massive breasts submerging themselves beneath the showerhead’s spray, steam rising from them like they were being fried. He imagined her shutting her eyes and dipping her head within, and her fiery, wavy hair getting dark and being made straight by the heaviness of the moisture which ran through it. Her twirling in the tub, her ass free and open, her steps and dainty and animated, like everything she did. Even just her private jokes to herself. The lifting of her gargantuan tits to clean beneath, or the spreading off her butt cheeks to clean within. All the things which couldn’t be shown on television, or perhaps she might have done all of it for the eager eyes of the world.

Liam now had his chance to see it.

He looked at the closed door waiting for him in the partial darkness.

He exhaled.

She was right there. All it would take was a few silent steps and a careful twist of the doorknob.

He face dropped, and he looked down toward the floor.

He couldn’t do it.

And by the time that he could almost convince himself to believe otherwise, the showerhead shut off. Not long after, she emerged from out the bathroom with a bright yellow towel, wrapped around her curvy shape in a half-articulated form, making her body look like a primitively-carved figure of fertility.

She looked up at him from the darkness of the hallway. “Still up?” she asked.

He nodded.

“You’re a night-owl then.”

Liam didn’t say anything.

“Say,” she began to ask softly. “Do you think your dad will mind me sleeping in his bed? Just for one night?”

Liam only sat there for a moment. He looked down at his thumbs, and then back up at her. “No,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

She smiled at him, and then she disappeared into his dad’s room, shutting the door behind her.

Liam lay there, looking at the closed door, the hallway rich with the bathroom’s spilling steam.

He heard her towel drop.

Then the creaking of his dad’s bed.

And then nothing else.

And he knew, that within that darkness, and beneath those sheets, his loving mother, the famous Autumn Jones, and Jessica from Bad Mom, the three of them in one body, lay there completely nude.

An hour later, after his mind had become exhausted with busy thought, Liam found sleep on the couch.

---

Liam helped roll his mom’s suitcase to the front door.

She backed away from it, looking down at her instruments of travel.

“You know, I never realized how excessive it all is until just this moment. Seeing it laid out here on my old floor. I really need to learn to pack lighter.”

Liam silently agreed, though he knew her heaviest baggage was that she was forced to take with her, no matter where she went in life. She stood there in her dress, her sunglasses looking like coal in fire pressed against her bangs. Her body, which had woken up naked, now stood clothed in a beautiful, form-fitting dress, and Liam stood there, taking awkward glances at it, feeling a desperation set in as he realized she would be gone again.

As if she could sense his worry, she spoke: “I’m going to have to make my next visit a priority.” She smiled at her son.

He smiled back.

And then as if she realized she couldn’t afford to make any promises, she looked down at the floor with her fingers clasped together and said “It’ll be tough, considering what my schedule is going to look like soon… but… I’ll manage it. I have to.”

“Your schedule?” Liam asked.

A bright but awkward smile broke out on the right corner of her face. “I didn’t want to say it, because it wasn’t set in… uh… stone, but I got a part in a little picture. ….starring opposite… uhm…. Thomas Stone.”

Liam’s eyes lit up within his otherwise stony face.

“As…” she laughed shyly. “As his love interest. It’s the new… uh… Operation Danger film. It doesn’t have a subtitle yet.”

The smile which came to Liam’s face was genuine, the smile on hers among the bashfulness bringing it out of him. Even still, a shadow moved over the meadow of his soul. And his mom knew it too through intuition. Neither of them said anything. They only stood there, enjoying their last moment with each other, knowing that there wouldn’t be another for a long while.

“That’s awesome, mom.” Liam said, after a moment. “My mom’s a star.” He said it as celebration and resignation both, and she looked at him, feeling the same. They were partners in their distance from one another, the dimensions of which they were slowly beginning to feel the implications of viscerally.

She smiled at him, her the corners of her emerald eyes crinkling, and then she giggled to herself, putting the back of her wrist against her mouth as if to stop the involuntary action. Then her smile dropped and just looked into her son’s face.

After a moment, she looked up at the clock on the counter.

“I suppose I should be going now. I’m going to be outrunning machine gun fire on film soon. I guess I should get practice first by catching up to a sitting plane.” She moved toward her suitcase. “Oh!” she said. “I left clothes on your dad’s bed. Just wait a second.”

She moved past her suitcase, knocking it off balance. Before it could crash to the floor, Liam grabbed it and placed it back upward. He then turned to see the barest glimpse of his mom’s shapely behind disappearing around the corner.

Liam stood there.

“Oh and my toothbrush,” she yelled down the hall.

Liam pulled his phone out. He could hear his mom rummaging through the bedroom. She had apparently forgot a lot.

He saw that Dylan had texted him.

“You’re famous now.” It was followed by a link.

Liam’s brows furrowed.

He clicked on the link.

An article popped up, and Liam felt a sudden burst of terror at seeing his face there, red and stiff, as he looked down at a phalanx of candles protruding out of a cake.

Across from him, his busty mother sat.

“Autumn Jones Celebrates Her Son’s Birthday,” the title read.

Halfway through the article, an embedded youtube video of the event sat. Liam could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Damnit Autumn, you’d forget your own shirt off your chest.”

Liam pocketed his phone.

His mom came from around the corner, her arms filled with various clothes and toiletries.

Liam watched as her tits shook while she tried to jam everything through the thin part of her suitcase.

Then he watched as she popped back up, like a jack-in-the-box, with her breasts jiggling and then stopping from the motion.

She looked at him silently, then she tilted her head to the side. A smile formed on her face. “Here’s looking at you, kid,” she said, and her arms shot out at her sides, as if she were presenting herself to an audience. Her hands waved him inward for a hug.

Liam extended his arms and wrapped them around his mother, feeling her breasts press tightly against his beating chest. Her body was warm. Her smell, both of her flesh and perfume, was heavenly. He gripped her tighter. Her hands, their fingers fully extended, embraced him at his sides.

It had been the first time in a long time that he had her with him, tangible and real, in something as basic and necessary as a mother-son hug. And he knew it would be the last time for a while. And because of that, he held on, as if unable to let go. It was only now that he began to realize how much he had always missed her, how much he had needed her. His life had a hole in it, and it was her shape, and the air was loud with her absence. With her back here something, an empty slot, had been filled, only for it to soon be empty again. His chin rested against her shoulder. Her breasts squeezed tighter against him.

Her hands patting him on his back.

A few moments passed, and he could feel her hands began to go limp.

“This is nice,” she said.

He held on tight.

A few more moments passed.

“I guess I should be going,” she said. She sounded like she wanted to make a playful joke, but none came.

Liam held on tight.

She exhaled. “I hope I don’t miss my plane…”

Liam wouldn’t let go.

She tried to back up. He held her there firmly.

“Liam.”

Nothing.

“Liam!”

She tired to back off, harder now, and as she did, Liam could feel her expansive breasts rubbing against him.

“Liam!” she was almost hissing now.

She managed to push him off, but at doing so, her tits jiggled before him.

Suddenly, to her shock, he reached and grabbed her shirt.

The image of her standing, her hair wet underneath the sun, flashed in his mind.

Her tore down the shirt at her neck, exposing her giant yellow bra.

“Liam!” she shrieked.

“Ughh,” he grunted, not responding to her, but in response to the sight of her giant cleavage, and the small cups which held it all together.

He reached out and grabbed her tits.

“Liam!” she hiccupped. “Don’t. No.”

Her breast filled his palm, and he grunted more, feeling its size and its weight and its soft delicate nature. She tried to back up, and instead of pulling her back to himself, he pushed her. Her back didn’t retreat too far before it found wall. Her tits jiggled from the impact.

He pushed into one and then pulled his hand off and began groping the other.

“Stop, Liam!”

“Mom,” he said, and he began tugging at the string between cups. “Stop… I need to…”

She tried to twist away, only jiggling her breasts further.

Liam got leverage against the yellow lace of her bra, and as soon as he did, he tugged with more exertion than he had ever applied for anything in his life.

The bra stood strong, but extended for only a second, in which Liam saw more of his mom’s tits, her nipples almost visible. With that as encouragement, he tugged one more time. And that was all it took.

The bra ripped off her of her chest.

Her gigantic breasts fell, nude, slapping against her naked torso.

They both froze for a second.

Her giant pink areolas sat there, looking up at Liam.

Liam realized what he was now looking at. He was seeing what so many other wanted to. Her fans, her admirers. Her cast. Her crew. The viewing audience. Tom Stone. Liam’s dad, for just one last time. Gary. Every journalist who had ever written a single world about her. Every man in Hollywood. Every man here, in this town. Dylan, Leo, Tom, Mr. Montgomery, her son’s friend, everyone.

After that eternal second, Autumn reached down for her shirt, eager to pull it up over her nakedness.

Her son’s hand shot up and grabbed her by her wrist, and then thrust her hand downward. She tried again, and he did the same, going back to her tits immediately afterward.

She moaned, both in humiliation and from some vague erogenous trigger, and she whimpered with her face getting as red as her hair.

“Yeah,” he said. “Mom,” squeezing her tit. He then tickled her nipple with his index finger, and then went down to give it a lick. His mom’s hands shot up again and he grabbed them both and pulled them away, even as he continued to lower his head toward her chest.

As he felt his mom’s nipple against his tongue, he shut his eyes and groaned. He lowered her hand toward his crotch.

When her fingers pressed against her bulge, she pulled away. He gripped her wrists and pulled them downward again. He released her nipple from his lips and he whispered into the inside of her breasts. “Just jerk it off.”

She jerked her hands away again, and as if it didn’t matter to him, he reached toward his fly and unzipped it, and then undid his button, trying to pull down his pants with one hand.

His mom tried to back away somehow, though there was no space to back up into. Her ass pressed against the wall, squishing it. He looked down at it, seeing its giant size in his peripherals, and he reached down and began to grope it.

“Your ass, mom,” he whispered, as if speaking to her through wire in a warzone. “It’s so big.”

“Li-i-i-um!” she pleaded, and tried to squirm.

Her body’s every curve swayed and jiggled as she did.

Liam’s cock was free now, and Autumn could see it at her lower peripherals, and she lifted her head, refusing to look at it.

Liam grabbed her hand again and brought it down, the back of it brushed against his dick. She pulled away in a shriek.

He did it again, and as he did, the thought of where this was all heading to occurred to him, and he realized something spectacular. Something so unbelievable, his own eyes opened wide from the thought: he was about to force himself on Jessica, the main character of Bad Mom, the famous actress Autumn Jones, the former wife of his father, the biggest crush of everyone in town, and his own mother all at once. And she couldn’t stop him.

Just as the thought occurred to him, and the realization that it was true took on solid shape, the palm of her hand brushed past the head of his cock, and then a sudden driving wave ran through his hips.

“Ugh!” he groaned. And with that, his mom looked down at the cock she was trying so hard to avoid, and she watched as its first gush of white cum rushed out of it. She shot to the side, out of his weakening grip, avoiding the gushing sight.

Liam stood there, hunched over, looking at his mom’s gigantic chest, seeing her final jiggle and escape.

Some part of him, even against common sense, thought that this would only be a distraction. That he’d grab her once he was finished, and force her down to the ground, and then make history by having her. By being between her legs, and inside her, and watching her push against him and groan with her eyes shut, as her tits jiggled from the struggling and the violence of his thrusts.

As he ejaculated on the floor, some of it splashing against her suitcase. She lifted her shirt back up over her chest, leaned down and grabbed her suitcase and her bag, and she moved, unhurried, in a daze toward the door. Liam, in his final throes of orgasm, watched the fat of her ass move as she did.

She didn’t even close the front door, only got into her rent-a-car, and pulled out of the driveway. By then, Liam was spent, and he watched, shocked as if he were a bystander to the day’s events, as his mom drove off.

He then fell to the floor, and he looked out at the sleepy small-town day. The birds chirped. And the wind ran through the trees. The sky was blue and the grass was green. Nothing had changed.

He sat there, not knowing what to do. Not even having the strength to shut the door.

He was alone in the house, yet again. Her suitcase was gone. So were her clothes and all her accessories. For a second, he wondered if she had ever been there to begin with. If he had dreamt her whole visit. And then he noticed a yellow flash.

He turned his head, and lying there, on the ground, sat a yellow bra, its cups massive, swollen to cartoonish size.

He picked it up. And as he sat there staring at it, her final gift to him, he began to feel his cock getting hard again.

---

His phone began to buzz.

The image of his face next to his mom’s stared back to him on it.

He picked it up and placed it to his ear.

“So?” the feminine voice said.

“So?” he replied.

“You’re going to act like this is the first time we’ve done this?”

A smile began to form in the corner of his mouth.

“How was the episode, you big dope? Or were you watching Two and Half Men again?”

“No,” Liam said. “I was watching Modern Family.”

“Oh,” his mom said. “Okay, well tell me how that one went.”

Liam smiled.

He held his cock in his hand, and he slowly stroke it as he spoke. “Well, it’s the best show on TV as far as I’m concerned, nothing comes close.”

“Oh yeah?” she replied. “Hey, you’ll have to remind me… I… uh… does Sofia Vergara help your dad pay for the home… the… uh… y’know… the one you live in?”

“Not that I know of,” he said, still stroking himself. “If she did, I’d assume it would be bigger.” He looked around. The yellow bra was waiting in his lap.

“Hmm,” she murmured. “I wonder what kind of house the paycheck of a big Hollywood leading lady could buy.”

“I guess neither of us would know,” Liam said.

She laughed. “I guess not.”

There was a moment of silence. But before any awkwardness could set in, she cut in aggressively, more to stop certain thoughts to bubble up in her own mind more than anything. “No, but seriously. What was the funniest part this time?”

As Liam began describing the scene where the little chihuahua had chased her behind the building, and she yelped as it was implied she was bitten on the ass, he felt that old familiar sensation of pleasurable waves running through the coast of his hips. And he continued speaking, even as his cock gushed load after copious load into the cup of his mom’s yellow bra, still feeling the sensation of one of the nipples on America’s favorite set of breasts, as it sat there, defenselessly, within the embrace of his sucking mouth.