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Vincent made the mistake of trying to get everything in one trip. Backpack slung over his back, bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers squeezed to his chest in the same arm, a bag of Chinese Takeout in its clawed hand, and a flat-packed painting easel in the arm. The badger had to awkwardly elbow the doorbell of his mom’s apartment, panting after climbing three flights of stairs to get here. He waited several minutes, glancing backwards down the outdoor flight of stairs to the apartment parking lot, spotting his mother’s silver sedan there. She was definitely home, maybe sleeping? He rang the doorbell again, left arm getting tired from holding the easel. Though, just as he considered setting it down he heard the door unlatch and swing open.

Eileen was a head taller than Vincent. The badger matron’s black, white, and grey fur coat was wet, glossy, wrapped in a soft plum bathrobe loosely tied and showing some of Eileen’s cleavage. His mother smelled of lemon and honeysuckle from her recent shower. Vincent almost gasped seeing her like this, as Eileen also stared at her son for a brief second before wrapping him in a hug, crushing the bouquet he brought with her breasts as she said, “Oh Vince! It’s so good to see my baby boy,” she kissed his cheek and released him. Her sweet scent lingering fragrantly in Vincent’s nostrils.

She stepped back and gestured inside, “Come in! Come in! What are you doing here? Don’t you have classes?”

Vincent had driven thirty minutes north from his dorms to visit his mom on Valentine’s Day. “I thought we’d have a singles night together.”

“Is that why you brought flowers?” Eileen said as Vincent stepped inside, taking the bottle and bouquet from his arm.

Feeling a little heat to his cheeks, Vincent said, “Pretty girls deserve flowers on today, right?”

“Aww, I’m hardly a girl anymore, dear, but thank you,” Eileen said as she went to the kitchen.

Her apartment had a simple layout: front door opened into a living room with a foldout couch, coffee table, and TV, a computer desk and chair packed into a corner, then a kitchen with a small two seater dining table, and a hallway beyond branching off into a bathroom, laundry unit, and bedroom. It was considerably smaller than the family home Eileen sold when Vincent went to college, but his mom seemed happier here than in that old house and all the memories that plagued it.

Eileen retrieved a vase and filled its bottom with water before planting the bouquet in there. Vincent watched his mother touch up the flowers a little, gently smoothing out crushed while her short black tail swished, just poking out from her robe. Vincent couldn’t help but smile as she smelled deeply of the blossoms a moment before she faced him and said, “These are lovely.” She set them down next to the wine on the granite counter before asking, “What else did you get me?”

“Dinner and a new easel?”

“Is that what that is?” she asked as she rushed to take the flat-packed box from his other arm. She held it out to look at the display on the box and squealed. “You knew I needed a new one?”

“I saw your post on instagram yesterday,” Vincent admitted a little shyly.

“You know if you’re going to check your mom’s insta you could just follow me—”

“Come on, mom,” Vincent said, “It’s not facebook.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Eileen said wryly while leaning over to kiss Vincent on the cheek again. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m going to take this back to my room and get changed. Why don’t you put food on the coffee table and we can eat together. What did you get me?”

“What else?” Vincent asked as if he didn’t know what his mother got every time she ordered Chinese.

“Mmm, good boy, spoiling your mom on today.”

“Y-you deserve to be spoiled,” Vincent said. It was not just the holiday that prompted Vincent’s visit, but it was what the day represented to Eileen. When Vincent was sixteen, as a “Valentine’s Day present” to the woman his father had been secretly having an affair with for two years, Vincent’s father left Eileen and his son for this other woman. It had been four years since that crushing day for Eileen, and Vincent frankly worried about his mother being alone on such an anniversary.

Eileen, meanwhile, hemmed and hawed in front of her open closet, looking at her wardrobe like she waited for it to tell her what to wear. She wanted to wear something nice for Vincent, her son clearly trying to be nice and presentable with the dark red dress shirt and slacks he wore. Showing up on her doorstep like he was dressed for a date… What was the boy thinking? She imagined her gossipy neighbors would have a field day seeing a young badger dressed to go out on Valentine’s Day showing up at her doorstep with flowers and wine and… Eileen felt her face flush. Was her son trying to woo her? Her chest fluttered a little, but she told herself not to be ridiculous. That even the heat rushing to her cheeks was inappropriate.

Vincent no doubt laid out their dinner on the coffee table while she hemmed and hawed, unwilling to simply come out in pajamas. This was supposed to be a “singles night” and he had dressed to go out? Why not her? She picked an evening dress she hadn’t worn in ages. A red sweater dress that only went down to her mid-thigh, it matched the shirt he wore and hugged her supple curves so sweetly while not revealing too much.

Slipping it on she felt a little shiver run through her. Excited at the prospect of seeing her son react, only to quickly quash that feeling. It had clearly been too long since she last drew the eye of man. She was too big, emasculated most men with her size and hard muscle under the soft padding of fat. Before she got pregnant she’d been rather solid, but motherhood had filled her out in ways that made her more feminine. She considered herself attractive, but most men were simply intimidated by her. It was nice to feel like a woman, she told herself. It was okay for her son to make her feel like one, moms were women, too.

Still, when she sauntered down the hallway and called out to him, only for his head to turn at her and gawk, jaw going a little slack like she struck him, that made something hot spread through her pelvis and loins.

Vincent worried it might be weird for him to show up with all he did, unannounced, but he really wanted to make his mom feel special. What he was not ready for, was for her to match his effort in any way. Her dress made it easy to see every line of her hourglass shape. The fabric clinging to her, hugging her in such a way, and ending at the thighs to show those full, shapely legs. How easy it would be to sneak a hand under the hem of her dress—Vincent’s brain almost short-circuited at the intrusive thought as he gasped and blurted, “Holy shit mom.”

God his reaction made her feel so good. She cocked her hip and smirked. “Yeah?”

“I just mean—you uh, um…” now his eyes darted around the room lest they drink up more of her, “I never get to see you dress up and you look amazing.”

“Is that so? Maybe I should make you take me out, then.” Eileen knew she was taking things too far, but she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this good about herself. She felt starved of it.

“I… I… If you want… but if we go out like this won’t people think… I mean…” Vincent couldn’t say it. Tripping over his words with a legitimate anxiety that squashed Eileen’s fun. She didn’t want to actually upset him.

“And let the Chinese you brought go to waste? No way.” Eileen went into the kitchen and got the corkscrew from the drawer. As she began to screw into the wine bottle, she asked, “What did you have in mind for us to watch?”

“It’s um… I know you’ve seen it a ton of times, but I’ve had the song stuck in my head all week,” Vincent said bashfully as he navigated smart TV menus to the right streaming service. “But I was thinking we’d watch Blue Velvet.”

“Hehehe, talk about a Valentine’s Day movie, so romantic.”

“I mean, it’s one of your favorites right?”

“It is.” Pop! went the wine cork free of its bottle. “You should have gotten us a box of pabst.”

“Well, I tried to get a little bit of all your favorites.”

“Mmm,” Eileen hummed as she came around the couch with two filled wine glasses. She sniffed the open takeout tray of shrimp fried rice and growled. “My favorite cheap wine, my favorite cheap food, my favorite movie, and,” she leaned against him and said, “my favorite boy.” Vincent tensed up but Eileen swung away and asked innocently, “What more could a mother want?”

They ate, merrily, the pair talking over the beginning of the movie as they’d seen it many times. The conversation dipping for certain scenes. Eileen scraped the bottom of her takeout tray as in the movie Jeffrey is first caught in Dorothy’s closet, both badgers watching in rapt attention as Dorothy holds Jeffrey at knifepoint: the older woman in total control of the college boy until Frank comes to Dorothy’s apartment.

Eileen chose then to pause it, and said as she got up, “I’m going to grab the wine bottle.”

“What would you do in that situation?”

“If I caught a boy watching me undress in my closet?” Eileen clarified as she returned to the couch with the wine.

“Uh, wow, this was a dumb thing to ask you.”

After pouring herself a second glass, she hesitated to pour his, asking, “How are you doing, lightweight?”

“I’m, um,”

“Just like your father.”

“God I hope not.”

Eileen flinched hearing him say that. She hadn’t really thought of her ex-husband Seth since her son showed up. She poured Vincent more wine and said, “I didn’t mean it like that, dear. You’re nothing like your father where it counts.”

“I would never do something like what he did to you.”

“Dear, let’s not,” Eileen hesitated, seeing the fire in her son’s eyes, how he faced her head on and took her clawed hands in his and squeezed them.

“I’m not going to leave you like he did.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, but his words were a wave crashing through her. She suddenly felt frail and vulnerable and maybe she was a little flushed as well. She hugged him tight and said, “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, mom.”

She let him go and turned away, brushing a tear from her eyes, and her body tingled where it pressed up against his. A longing for his touch that like the look before, she felt starved of—she was touch-starved. The ache of that felt all too real now, and still a little frail, she settled against her arm of the couch, Vincent on the opposite end, cradling his filled wine glass. Occasionally sparing her glances as they continued the movie, one scene sweeping into another until they both became reabsorbed in the film, shouting together with Frank:

“Heineken? Fuck that shit! Pabst! Blue! Ribbon!”

As the movie rolled on, that ache to be touched still simmered and boiled in Eileen. She poured the rest of the wine bottle into her glass, shifted a little on the couch, knees curled up against her as she rested against the arm of the couch. She leaned over and paused the movie before she said, “You know what I miss?”

Vincent drunkenly smiled at her. “Huh?”

“When you were little, you used to cuddle up with me all the time. So even when your father was being cold to me, I still had you.”

“Uh, oh, um… d-do you want me to sit closer?”

“Touching your mother isn’t a crime, you know.”

“Y-yeah,” Vincent said, now nervously sidling closer to her. She patted the cushion next to her, and when he sat on it, his hip pushed into her butt, thighs into her feet. For a while, they watched in silence as the movie ratcheted towards its climax. And having Vincent sit this close, just pressed up to her feet and butt, had her aching to be touched more by him. Vincent all too keenly aware of the heat of his mother’s body, feeling his heart pound in his chest, never before so nervous when watching the scene of Frank approaching Jeffrey in the closet, guns drawn on each other, waiting to see the other. And when the closet door opened and Jeffrey fired, Vincent jumped as Eileen grabbed his arm and pulled him against her.

“Like that,” she said with a huff. “Actually leaning against me, it’s nice.”

“Y-yeah…” Vincent muttered as his face now pressed into his mother’s side. Her breasts just above his head, his eyes stealing glances of them while she watched the movie. The smell of her flowery shampoo in her fur gave off a familiar, comforting scent. He wanted to bury more into her, but at the same time a tightness in his loins, a knot in his throat, made him afraid of how his body might inevitably react to that. The movie quickly came to a close, director David Lynch bookending images of the movie’s beginnings with its ends, and as the credits began to roll, Eileen draped an arm over him and rubbed his side gently. The room by now dark save for the glow of the TV screen, its black backdrop as white text scroll giving off so little light that Vincent began to feel himself drift off a little. Too drunk to do more than give in to the moment.

Eileen finally broke the silence to say, “Thank you for today. You’re my favorite person in the whole world and… I really needed this.”

Lethargically, Vincent’s eyes blinked open as he slowly processed what she said before he finally responded with, “I’m just… you deserve to be treated like this… all the time.”

“I… God Vince, c-can you do one last favor for me tonight?”

He lifted his head from her side to meet her gaze before saying, “Anything.”

“Come to bed with me tonight.”

She said it, and he stared. His mind alight with all that could mean and all that he wanted from her suddenly breaking through.

“I just… I don’t want to sleep alone, and my bed is plenty big enough—”

“Yes,” Vincent whispered, already getting off her and staggering to his feet. It was nothing to overthink. She just needed comfort, a son could comfort their mother. There wasn’t anything wrong with them sharing a bed, they’d done it before in countless hotels. He was making his way into her room, flicking on the light, a little dizzy from the wine. She came in behind him, drunk as well and… her scent? Something felt different, coming up under her freshly showered body.

But before Vince could puzzle it out, she told him, “Turn out the light, we don’t need it on.”

And he did, blinking in the near total dark. A light from a digital clock on the nightstand their only light. Standing at the foot of the bed, his mother pulled up the hem of her dress. He watched, wide-eyed, jaw hanging open again as that tight fabric peeled away and the curves of her silhouette spilled free. She reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, breasts sagging a little without support, the room too dark to make out more than their shape. How when she turned just right he saw the shape of a nipple. She left her panties on and crawled into bed. After getting under the covers, she told him, “Okay, you can get undressed and get in.”

Undressed? What was she thinking? He couldn’t—he looked down in the dark at his slacks, more feeling than seeing the tent there now. His pointed cock spilled from his sheath, pressed up against his boxers, knot half swollen in the folds of his sheath. If he took his pants off she’d smell him for sure, but then again—he couldn’t tell her no. It wouldn’t be so bad, he’d still have his boxers on and under the covers it would stifle any smell. He would sleep on the edge of the bed and it would be fine. This he thought as his fingers unbuttoned his shirt, slipping out of it, before kicking off his shoes, then pants. Keenly aware of the sharp, pungent musk caused by the leaking his dripping dick did into his boxers, Vincent went around to the bare, left side of the bed and climbed in under covers before rolling on his side, back to her.

Eileen watched his dark shape in the bed, unable to smother her smoldering need for him. She had caught the scent of his musk, and wondered shamelessly if her own panties, all wet from asking him to sleep with her, had done it to him. She wanted to have done it to him. For his body to crave hers. She felt so perverted and thrilled at the idea. Like a drug she was helplessly addicted to. Each time she asked for more from him, the more of him she needed. Aching, she couldn’t stop herself from scooting towards him and hugging his back to her front.

Vincent gasped as she pulled him snug against her. His bigger mother’s breasts pushing into his back, her bare nipples sinking through fur into his skin. His hands reflexively went to where his mom’s hands joined around him and hugged her to him. A panicked part of him wanting to push her away lest she find out—only to surrender into the feeling of her body pressed against his. How her every curve folded around him, how her face nuzzled into his ear and she rumbled and growled.

Sleepy, drunk, Eileen mumbled in his ear, “Mmm… I should get to hold you like this every time you visit.”

“Y-yeah,” Vince mumbled, feeling his knot throbbing in his boxers, tip of his cock pushed out of his waistband and leaking down into the sheets. He wanted so badly to touch himself. Wanted her to touch him. But she already drifted off to sleep, her warm breath blowing into his ear. Vincent couldn’t remember the last time he had been so hard. He whimpered and fidgeted against his mother’s body. She needed to roll away from him or he’d… he’d…

“Mom?”

But she had crashed into sleep. The wine undoing her.

Maybe if he just rolled over he could wake her enough to get her too… But when Vince rolled around and faced her as she slept, all he could think about was how heavily she leaned against him. The tip of his cock rubbed into the fur of her belly, knot pressed into her panties, feeling the heat of her sex. Something in Vincent broke the moment he felt it. His hips humped into her and he groaned, as this close he could smell her wet pussy. An older woman’s scent. So pungent and deep. Vincent couldn’t stop himself. He needed to… to… he didn’t even know. He almost watched his body act on its own:

Vincent’s hand went down to his boxers, hooking the waistband under his balls, cock finally free and flush against his mother’s body. His other hand had grabbed Eileen’s panties and pulled them down, and he aimed his cock at her snatch. But at this angle he could not get it inside her, instead his shaft just rubbed against her hot, dripping folds. That was more than enough for the young man, who desperately humped and ground his dick against her slick sex while telling himself she wanted this. She asked him to her bed for a reason. She was wet for a reason. He did this to her because she wanted it. This was for his mother, not because his shaft felt so good against her fat labia. The heat of it made him whimper and whine as he buried his face in her tits. His lips kissed and quested till they latched around one fat, dark nipple beneath her fur. He moaned against her as Eileen whimpered in her sleep. Her pussy folds clenching suddenly and a fresh wave of nectar drenching his shaft.

He made his mother cum just by rubbing his shaft against her. She must be so sensitive… he bet if he put it in, even if she woke, she wouldn’t stop him from pounding her. The thought of his knot sinking into her tight snatch undid him, though, and the pent up son growled against the breast he sucked as his lower half shuddered, hips rocking back and forth while his cock twitched and came. Vincent shamelessly sprayed seed into her panties, against her snatch, her pubes, inner thighs, coating her in pump after pump of pent up badger cum. His fat balls churning and firing more than he had in years. He’d fucked women that didn’t make him cum as hard as just rubbing his mother’s pussy.

Vincent released Eileen’s breast, panting as he still humped his cock against her snatch, even as it began to shrink he rubbed it against her. Exhaustion taking over, but not as he lied face to face with her. Her lips so close to his… he pressed them to hers, just a moment. And before the clarity of what he did to his mother sank in, sleep whisked him away, the wine and warmth of his mother’s arms becoming irresistible.

***

Eileen woke the next morning with Vincent curled up around her, snout nuzzled into her neck, her leg hooked over his, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he snored softly. Still half-asleep, she nuzzled into the top of his head and smelled his scalp, the salt and earthiness of his scent making Eileen sigh. She reached around and rubbed the small of his back and heard him mumble in his sleep, “M-mom…”

Eileen’s heart fluttered a little, and only then, did she remember drunkenly getting into bed with her son last night. And now his body was pressed up to hers, both nearly nude. His left hand had wrapped around her right breast, not squeezing it, but certainly something he shouldn’t touch. She needed to get up and get dressed before he woke up. Surely she could come up with some excuse for being so… needy last night. Even if his warmth felt so good everywhere he touched her. Eileen’s body longed to prolong and deepen his touch, but she shook it off as just being touched starved. Carefully, she disentangled herself from her son and scooted away, pulling up her panties when she noticed they were a little loose. Only then did she feel how wet the fabric was.

Eileen gasped, first thinking this was her problem only to pull back the covers and reveal the mess Vincent no doubt made of her groin the night before. Her pubic fur, creamy inner thighs, even the bottom of her tummy had dry, tangled flakes of her son’s cum. She stared, trying to understand how it got there. Had he had a wet dream. They’d been pressed up together all night after all… God she had trouble thinking past the rank smell of her son’s cum. Now so pungent she huffed and could feel herself getting a little wet. She’d noticed his tent when he went to bed last night. She had to be the cause of it, of this… God what if Vincent did this to her in his sleep?

She glanced over to the still snoozing boy, the covers ripped down now exposed how his boxers had been pulled down to his thighs. His cock… she just stared quietly at her son’s eggplant-thick sheath. Her son had inherited a lot of things from his father, but not this. This obscenely sized sheath rested heavily on his thigh, beneath it two heavy balls that had dumped so much seed on Eileen it had overflowed onto the maroon sheets and left a palm-sized stain on them. God, pulling down the covers was a mistake. It made the reek of his cum so strong she had a hard time thinking of anything else but him.

And noticing again how his boxers had been pulled down, she concluded that it hadn’t been a wet dream. He did this to her. Violated her in her sleep. She felt her pussy wink at the thought. Violated by her own son… but what did she expect after teasing the pent up boy with her little in-the-dark strip-tease? God, he wanted her so bad he didn’t even care about making a mess or her finding it in the morning. That just made Eileen hotter, finger drifting down to her still wet panties. Cold cum congealed there that she shamelessly rubbed into her sex by pressing two fingers into her panties.

She whimpered as she did it, and Vincent rolled over onto his back. She watched him continue to sleep while rubbing herself, unable to look away from that thick, fat sheath. Lusting after her son like this was so wrong. She needed to stop, clear her head. It had just been too long for her since she last got off. Being pent up is why she couldn’t stop touching herself, not because she found her son adorable and sexy. His chest rising and lowering, his three white stripes across his otherwise completely coal coat, his slightly pudgy tummy so soft and squeezable, and his overwhelming virility… She stopped, suddenly aware she was rubbing her son’s semen into her snatch and even that could get her pregnant. The thought of which sent a twinge through her pussy and made her moan.

Eileen clapped a clawed hand over her muzzle. Vincent didn’t stir. After a moment, Eileen carefully pulled her panties off. She should have tossed them away in disgust, but she held onto them. Staring at the plain, black fabric and the congealed cum smeared across it. Impulse took control and she pressed the bunched up fabric to her nose and huffed it. The overwhelming smell of his cum ruined her. She squeezed her thighs together and fell back into the bed, whimpering as she kept the soiled underwear to her face. She couldn’t help but reach down and start pawing at her clit. He’d cum so much against her, had he actually entered her last night? God, why did she hope he did? She was such a fucked up mother, but she couldn’t stop herself. The more she smelled his cum, the more she rubbed her clitoris, the deeper into depravity she sank. She forgot about her son laying beside her and humped up into her fingers. She moaned loudly as she shuddered and a small orgasm quaked its way through her body.

“Mom?”

Eileen almost jumped out of the bed, but Vincent only continued to talk in his sleep. She stared at him, and wondered just how asleep her son was. He had already violated her, escalating things; it wouldn’t make things any worse if she returned the favor. She just needed… Eileen couldn’t fully articulate what she needed, couldn’t finish the thought as if it only cemented her as a bad, perverted mother using her son to fix her loneliness. She should have felt ashamed for what she just did, but she still just felt hopelessly horny. It was his fault she was like this. He deserved some kind of quid pro quo, she told herself.

Surely that was the only reason she rubbed a clawed finger against the dripping lips of her sex, soaking the digit in her juices before reaching over and sticking the finger just over her son’s snout. She watched his pointed snout twitch before he huffed and tilted his head a little up, dark nose brushing against her wet finger. He growled a little, and Eileen watched his sheath throb, before the pointed, ebon urethra pressed out that pocket of flesh. Eileen kneeled before her son’s waist soon as she saw it. Her nostrils flared as she scented his sharp, salty musk. She bit her lip to keep from moaning again. She knew he had to wake up at some point, that the longer she drew this out the more likely she was to be caught by him.

But she couldn’t stop now. Not when she was so close to tasting him. Just a taste then she would stop. Her big badger head hovered over his sheath as she glanced over at his face, son still sleeping. She kissed his open sheath, lips sealing around his dark tip as the folds of his sheath bunched up around her muzzle. Her toes curled as she tasted him. Covered in the warm fluids of his sheath, his cock was bitter and musky, its acrid notes spreading over her tastebuds as she began to french her son’s sex, long tongue wriggling into those folds of flesh. The rich taste of his inner sheath made her cunt clench as she swirled her tongue around his buried shaft. It began to fatten. She felt her son’s rapid pulse against her oral muscle as that shaft blossomed more and more into her mouth.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she continued sucking, toes curling, short tail shivering as that meaty tool filled out her maw. He simply grew too big for her to keep her lips sealed around his sheath, and ended up releasing it so he didn’t swell into her throat. She suckled on the veiny, ebon shaft, her saliva dripping down its length into his sheath. She closed her eyes and just concentrated on how he throbbed and twitched in her mouth. His scent made her head spin as tension, need, hunger all built up in her core. Stopping now felt more painful than any consequence that continuing might bring. She began to bob her head on his shaft, as it continued to rise from his sheath until he began leaking into her mouth. His semi-sweet precum different from his saltier, bitter flavor. She moaned when she tasted it, feeling a thrill that this was her doing. Her body did this to him.

Vincent first noticed the tight, suckling heat gliding up and down over the front half of his shaft. At first he thought it must be a dream. He smelled sex and his eyes fluttered open and he looked down. She did not notice him wake, eyes shut tight as she blew him. She had one big hand wrapped around the base of his shaft while her muzzle continued to bob on the rest of it, drool running freely from her lips, nose runny. Her other hand reached between her legs, desperately rubbing her dripping sex, which Vincent smelled and shuddered. He groaned and her eyes snapped open, seeing him half-sitting up, propped on his elbows and panting.

Eileen felt under a spell. Possessed by another, worse, more depraved woman. One that released her son’s cock from her mouth, letting it spill swollen across his belly as she licked her lips. Eileen looked from that throbbing rod to her son’s confused face. She began to crawl over him, saying as she did, “It’s okay, dear. Just let mommy take care of you…”

“M-mom I’m not sure you should…” but Vincent trailed off, gawking at her as she straddled his hips and towered over him. With sunlight spilling in from the bedroom window, he saw all her stunning beauty for the first time: the heavy curve and weight of her breasts, the folds of her tummy against her pubic bone, the dark, dripping labia of her sex, the hunger burning in her golden eyes that he’d never seen before. It was too much too soon, his mind fought against how wrong this should be and he opened his mouth to protest more.

But Eileen placed a claw against his snout. “Shhh, I know what you did last night you naughty boy… I know what your mommy’s body does to you…” Saying it and seeing him squirm sent a perverse thrill through her.

Only then did Vincent remember the drunk, desperate humping he did against his mother’s body the night before. He tried to say, “I’m sorry, mom, I didn’t—I was drunk and wasn’t thinking—”

“Mmm, there’s no need to think,” she said as she leaned over him, reaching down and scooping his shaft up into her palm. She squeezed and rubbed the tip as she whispered in his ear, “I need you, Vince. Mommy needs this, don’t you understand? I, hah-ah,” they both shuddered as she guided his tip to the entrance of her sex. “I’m g-going to be a bad mother. It’ll be okay, though—mommy promises to make you feel good.” And, without waiting for him to react to her words, Eileen sat on her son’s cock.

Her back arched and she moaned as he filled her out more than any man ever had before. That girthy, long shaft scraping against her cervix and causing a sharp stab of pressure through her core that she never felt. A shiver wracked her body as she clenched down on that shaft and came. Hard. She snarled and squeezed one of her tits as she convulsed around her son’s shaft. Her tight, constricting walls smothered his meat with their soft, wet heat. Vincent’s claws tore furrows in the sheets as he groaned and bucked his hips reflexively into her clutching cunny. Her pussy squeezing so tight, but unlike some girls Vincent had in the past, his mother could take him completely. He’d bottomed out in her and felt the base of his shaft throb, his knot beginning to swell.

Vincent rolled his hips vainly, squirming beneath her as he protested, “Mom… Mom, I’m gonna tie you if you don’t get off.”

But she laughed and leaned over him again, whispering in his ear as she humped into his groin, ground her sex down on his sheath, “Hehe, it’s, mmf, a little late. You already got mom off.”

“M-mom I’m serious—”

“So am I sweetie. I need this… need you… I don’t care if it makes me a bad mother.”

“Mom please…” Vincent whined as his knot grew larger. The front half of it already in her sex, and when she humped down the rest slipped inside. She released a shuddering groan, fresh pussy nectar flushing from her and across his sheath and balls. He moaned as her walls gripped and pulled around his knot, his urethra grinding into her spongy, firm cervix. He was crammed into her, crushed by all her weight. And she doubled over him, her face next to him, panting in his ear, whimpering and moaning as her innards fluttered and crushed his cock with their velvet grip.

And in his ear his mother babbled, “God you feel so good in mommy, sweetie. It’s, mmfff, okay to cum in me dear. Just let go.”

He could not shove her off him or get his knot free, he knew he should try, but he didn’t want to. He wrapped his arms around her, claws digging into his mother’s back as he pumped and ground his hips into her soaking vent. He groaned as his nuts clenched, and his mother moaned as she felt him twitch inside her. Thick, gouts of cum bubbling up from his balls squeezed down his shaft and sprayed inside his mother. Vincent’s eyes fluttered shut until Eileen grabbed his chin and pulled him into a kiss. His cum flooded her insides as her tongue wormed into his mouth, tangling with it and grinding their tastebuds together. He kissed her back weakly, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his body as she wringed him dry. Ropes of seed spilled inside her pussy as she shuddered and moaned, walls clenching again as she came on his cock a second time. The feeling of her son’s hot seed in her body too much to bear.

The pair of them thrashed against each other, head spinning orgasms shutting down any thought but how their bodies felt entangled in the other. After a dozen heavy gouts of semen, Vincent’s cock eased to an oozing orgasm, seed slowly squeezed from his urethra by his mother’s milking walls. Eileen needed more even as she felt herself coming down, as if it hadn’t been enough to slake her hunger. She rolled them over onto her back, her son now on top of her as she broke their kiss, panting and staring into each other’s eyes for a moment.

It was Vincent who whispered, “Mom… fuck… what did we just…”

“Shhh, it’s okay sweetie. This is all on me, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Vincent’s round ears folded back and he admitted, “B-but last night I…”

“Mmm, you did you naughty son, but I was the one who told you to strip and get in my bed.”

“Did…” Vincent bit his bottom lip as her walls rippled around his cock. “Fuck… did you want this to happen?”

“N-no…” she actually looked away from him and admitted, “I… just got carried away. G-got…” under the fine white fur on her muzzle he could see her blushing, even as fresh juices dripped from her, “I just… the thought of doing it with you…”

Vincent spoke around a knot in his throat: “Just say it.”

“It got me so hot I couldn’t think straight—still can’t…” she clenched her cervical floor again and crushed his cock with her walls, head falling back against the bed in a moan. Heated, panting, she said, “I-I’m sorry Vince. I’m a bad mom. Your cock just… it’s mmnn, perfect. Irresistible.”

Vincent felt his dick ache with fresh stiffness, knot still inflated in his mother, and he finally allowed himself to see just how badly she needed him. How desperate… his own mother mewling and gripping his dick in a way no other girl ever had. He wanted her. Had for a long time… all his love and desire to protect her in the wake of his father hurting her so badly… inside of that was something carnal. As if he needed to fuck her pain away, remove the concern of any other man from her life. He should be all she needed. All she thought about.

“You are a bad mom,” Vincent said, and Eileen winced, unable to look at him until he grabbed her jaw and pointed her muzzle at his. He said, coldly, “If you hadn’t been so self-obsessed maybe you… you…” Vincent growled and he sat up, pressing his palms into his mother’s wide hips as he began pulling on his knot.

Eileen squirmed and whined, “Vince… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up slut!” Vincent snarled as he yanked his hips back and his knot popped free of her with a cascade of cum flowing out her gaping, puffy, badger pussy. Eileen groaned at the sudden intense pain of it being ripped out of her, aching with heat and pleasure through her body as her son calling her a slut made her much hotter than she ever would have expected. Vincent pushed down on her pelvis above her pussy, squishing his cum out of her cunt, painfully. He never once treated her like this, but watching how his mother thrashed and cried out just made him want to do it more to her.

He grabbed his still hard, heavy shaft and slapped its meaty girth against her sex. Intentionally batting her hard, dark grey clit rising from the crest of her folds. He told her, “You’ve been flaunting this body for years, torturing me with it. Yeah, you’re a bad mother alright, teasing me all this time. You should have given your body to me much sooner. You should have thrown yourself at me the moment dad left.”

Vincent’s words made Eileen’s innards clutch around nothing, and an aching emptiness consumed her. The thought of going to her son when he was sixteen and giving her body to him. God why did that make her so much wetter? Vincent ground his shaft against her wet snatch as she wrapped her quivering legs around him. He squeezed and rolled her breasts in both palms, teasing her fat nipples with the tips of his claws. She felt her body heating up more, worse than it had all morning. No man had ever gotten her so worked up before.

Vincent said, “To make up for it, you’re going to belong to me until I’m tired of you.” He reached down and slid his tip back into her entrance, making Eileen moan rakishly, just the tip enough to cause her walls to squeeze and drip fresh juices along that pointed tip. Tears rolled down her face, feeling simultaneously degraded by her son and so horny for more. With her leglock she tried to pull him inside her, but he held firm and asked, “What are you?”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A self-obsessed mother who neglected her son.”

It hurt a little to say it, she knew it wasn’t true, but still to say it… “A s-self-obsessed mom who neglected her son.”

“That’s right, and that’s why you deserve this.” He plowed into her, cock sinking deep into the core of her body, his knot flush to her swollen labia. He ripped his rod backwards and slammed in again, Eileen’s tits shaking. “Your body belongs to me, is mine to use whenever I like.” He doubled over her as he began pounding his hips, fucking her hard as he could. His mother wrapped her arms around him as she moaned loud enough for her neighbors to hear, uncaring as Vincent rocked her body and bed with each pounding thrust. His fat, black knot beating her labia and clit, each time he smashed that button it caused another electric shock of pained pleasure through Eileen.

Vincent groped one of her tits, squeezing hard enough his claws pinched into her flesh. His lips found her nipple and wrapped around it, chewing on the spongy flesh and making Eileen’s back arch as she growled and snarled. She didn’t even know she could be a masochist, but every piece of pain Vincent laid on her body just made Eileen even more heated. The pleasure building up in her core as she held Vincent to her tits and tried to say, “I-I’m sorry—I’ll ahn! s-serve you, only you, m-my son.”

He snarled in response while he continued to pound her, panting furiously as he bit into her breasts, teeth raking and almost breaking flesh, leaving gouging indents in her skin. The sharp pain of it so delightful as she told herself she deserved this. Deserved to be roughly used by her son. She’d been such a bad mother to him, she gave up the right to her body. It was his. It was the only way for her to make things right—letting her son breed her over and over again.

And the thought of him knocking her up made the spring coiling in Eileen’s core pop, and her body became gripped in her convulsions. Gripped in her convulsions, Vincent snarled as she scratched his back and flopped on the bed like a landed fish. He continued pounding her through it, her cunny clenching so hard she squirted around his girth in waves. Each pound of his knot against her battered labia caused her to explode all over them both.

Vincent growled as he humped and ground his knot against her entrance, her body continuing to shudder and clutch at his cock. That tight gripping pleasure made Vincent want to cum before he even knotted her. He refused to let that happen. He sat back up and reached down, spreading her cunt with both hands to make it stretch more as he slowly caved in her entrance. And Eileen’s body, exhausted and beaten, between one cascading wave of orgasm and the next, suddenly untensed enough for his knot to cram its way back inside her, and feeling that bulb grind and flatten Eileen’s g-spot made her eyes roll back, tongue lolling from her muzzle as she came again. The intense pleasure of being used by her son intoxicating, like nothing she ever felt. She’d gladly be his slave if she got to feel this just once more.

Vincent, meanwhile, doubled back over his mother, looking up from her chest as he rolled his hips into her, his pointed tip grinding painfully into her cervix as his knot pulled on her entrance and churned up her insides. All those bundled up pleasure nerves beneath her clitoris flattened and mashed by his girth, by that big throbbing knot. She could barely feel anything, barely breathe past that massive mast inside her body. Eileen didn’t even notice when Vincent first spoke.

She only snapped out of her pleasure-filled daze when he grabbed her by the ear and roughly wrenched her head so she looked at him. She yelped and clenched down hard on his cock, feeling the racing pulse of its blood reverberate through her packed vent.

Vincent growled and said, “B-beg me to c-cum inside you, bitch.” Eileen felt him twitch inside her, so, so very close. Her cervix warped around his tip as he poked in again into that spongy barrier, her already soiled womb begging to be ruined again by her son’s seed.

“P-please! Br-breed me Vince—”

“Master.”

Eileen groaned and another wave of orgasm rushed through her body, so humiliated and turned on by the prospect of what her son wanted:

“M-master,” she huffed and stuttered, “I, hah, need you to knock me up. Knock your mother up. Let me try again, Master—I-I swear I’ll be a good mom this time… please, please give me your cum. I nng-know I-I’m not worthy of it, but… but…”

“That’s right,” Vincent snarled, glaring harshly at her. “You’re not worthy, b-but I’m going to give it to you anyways.”

“Oh fuck…” she breathed as his cock twitched inside her. Her walls so tight around him she could feel his seed traveling down the shaft up into his urethra. All that ruinous, pent up, cum of her young stud erupting into her vent. She wrapped every limb she had around her son to pull him tight to her, her greater strength crushing their bodies together as he huffed and growled and humped his groin into hers, his balls clenching again and again against her butt. His thick, gooey heat poured into her insides in such a flood she felt her womb drowning in the buzzing heat of his seed. Her groin growing a little tight as her son’s semen filled out her vent and made it swell more. No man had ever made her feel so full. No man had ever made her feel like this.

Eileen held him tight to her, rocking her body back and forth, walls occasionally squeezing his shaft as another aftershock of orgasm sped through her. Unable to stop herself because it simply felt too perverted, too good not to babble in his ear, “Th-thank you, Master. Mmmmmmf, your seed feels so good in me. I don’t deserve it for being such a bad mom to you, b-but I’ll make it up to you. Give you my body. Every part of it for you, my son, my Master. For as long as you want it.”

“Sh-shit mom,” Vincent whispered as fresh gouts of cum spilled inside his mother just from her words. “You… fuck… I-I love you.”

“Mmmnnn hah, God Vince, y-you can’t say that right now.”

“But I do—I love you. I can’t imagine growing tired of you, of your smarts and charm and—f-fuck—your body.”

“Y-you’re getting me all worked up again, Master.”

“You don’t…” Vincent huffed, finding it hard to stop moving his hips even for a second, addicted to stirring up her sloppy sex. “I didn’t mean what I said before. You-you’re an amazing mom. And you don’t need to call me, Master, I just g-got carried away.”

“Mmm, you should get carried away more often, Master…” she purred, unable to keep herself from calling him that. Every time she did fresh lust ratcheted up in her core. Even though she felt bloated and full of him, her hunger for all of him just grew.

“Y-you want… God mom, have you always been such a slut?”

“You made me this way. Are making me this way.”

The thought of him doing this to her, making her submit to him made his softening cock twitch and throb with fresh life. Still, he needed to ask, “D-do you want me to keep treating you this way?”

“When it’s just the two of us, y-you can use my body however you want, Master.” Just saying it made her begin gyrating her hips into him. “It’s what I deserve for being a bad mom—”

“You’re not—”

She shushed him with a quick kiss before saying, “It’s okay, dear. It’s like you said, I should have given you my body a long time ago. You’re such a stud, Master, not giving into you sooner was a terrible mistake.”

“F-fuck, mom,” Vincent said as he squirmed against her, wanting to rip his knot free just so he could pound her again. He said, “You’re such a fucking slut—a-are you okay with your son knocking you up? I-if we keep doing this.”

She leaned her head close to his and whispered in his ear, “I’m on the pill, dear, I can’t go into heat, and you can stuff my pussy with your seed all you want. I’ll gladly carry your cum inside me, Master.”

He groaned as he pulled his hips harder against her, knot tugging against her abused entrance, not quite freeing itself before it yanked painfully on Vincent’s sheath. He buried it back deep as he could and asked, “W-what if I want you to go into heat?”

She shivered beneath him and whimpered a little. “I… I don’t know, Master—”

“I do. God mom, you'd look so hot pregnant with my cubs.”

“F-fuck but if you did…”

“Are you going to disobey your Master?”

“N-no…”

“Then you’re not going to take the pill anymore, you’re going to let me enjoy every heat you have. I’ll knock you up until you can’t have kids anymore.”

“Oh… Vince… I’m—” she came again. The by now familiar convulsions of her vent around his shaft only emboldening Vincent.

“That’s right, your body belongs to me. I get to say what you do with it.”

“Mmmf, y-yes Master.”

He felt that fire already roaring in him again. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but still tell her, “You’re going to make such a good slave, you’ll love it more than you already do. I’ll make sure you never want anything else. You’ll love me more than you ever have before.”

“I l-love you, Master, s-so much.”

“I love you, too, mom,” the words soft and genuine. He kissed her, gently at first, then deepening into all the ravenous hunger they’d thrown at each other. Their muzzles tilting to better intertwine, teeth knocked together, as their tongues danced and they traded spit. Eileen couldn’t believe this was happening to her. That she sank so suddenly and so far, as if a trap door opened beneath her and plunged her into this depraved plummet. She would fall as far as her son told her to fall. Do whatever he said. He was, after all, her master, and they had so much lost time to make up for.