Stacy's Mom - 6/6 (Patreon)

Contains: Breast Expansion as Weight Gain, Feeding

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Stacy’s Mom

IX

I woke with a start one morning, worried it had all been a dream. Without moving my head, I glanced slowly to my right and saw a mess of blonde locks on the pillow beside me, letting out a relieved breath. I was sure Christie was still sleeping—she almost never woke before me—so I carefully rolled onto my side, slipping an arm around her. I let my fingers rest softly on the warm surface of her left breast, just a cotton sheet and a silk nightshirt between me and one of the two objects of my obsession.

Three months had passed since Stacy and I patched things up, and her mom had only gotten bigger under my pampering. The increase in her hips and ass wasn’t noticeable unless you spent every possible moment with your hands on them like I did. I couldn’t stop myself from scooting a little closer to feel her soft rump against my pelvis. Further up, I let my fingers trace a soft touch through the sheets. Christie’s breasts were bigger than her head, and I marveled at just how much I could move my hand and still be touching them.

“Good morning to you, too,” Christie whispered.

My instincts told me to apologize, but instead, I hugged myself tighter to Christie’s back, slipping my hand under the sheet to give her left tit a good squeeze.

“Hi,” I whispered in her ear.

“Hi yourself.”

I pressed and kneaded my way down her breast, then let my hand rest on her soft tummy. “You want some breakfast?”

“Maybe later…” Christie gently took my hand, guiding it further downward.

I found the opening at the side of Christie’s nightshirt and ran the backs of my nails along the soft flesh of her pelvis. She squirmed in the bed and pressed her growing rump against me. For a moment, I considered grabbing one of our toys from the nightstand, but first thing in the morning was not the time for something so… loud. Christie started to purr as I slid my fingers under the elastic of her panties and tickled her lips. When my fingertips, calloused from kitchen burns, found her g-spot, Christie folded the pillow over her mouth to muffle her moans.

***

I hugged Christie from behind as her breathing returned to normal. I could feel her heart racing against my chest—there was no way I’d feel it from the front.

“Have I ever told you you’re really good at that?” She said breathily.

“Once or twice, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well, you’re really good at that.”

I chuckled, burying my face in her hair. Christie’s words sent tingles down my spine, and I pressed my hips tighter against her ass.

“You like compliments, don’t you?” Christie whispered.

“I had a girlfriend once tell me I have a praise kink,” I admitted.

“I’ve never heard of that, but I think I can put two and two together. I guess that explains why it’s so easy to get you to cook for me.”

I murmured incoherently into her nape.

I felt her hand slip between us, searching for my own pelvis.

“I think it’s your turn,” she whispered.

“That’s alright,” my voice sounded like a stranger to my ears, husky and rough, “I’m good until later tonight.”

“These soaking panties tell a different story,” she teased.

I let out a startled gasp. Christie wasn’t usually one for dirty talk. My world shook as she rolled away from me; then, before I knew it, I was on my back, Christie hovering over me on her hands and knees. I froze, unable to do more than stare into her eyes.

“What if I tell you you’re an amazing chef?”

I couldn’t stop my body from squirming beneath her. “Christie, I—“

“And you’re beautiful?”

My self-consciousness broke through my arousal. “But I’m not—“

She pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me.

“Don’t talk back to me,” She said in her ‘mom voice,’ “You are beautiful.”

“Thank—“

“And sexy.”

She lowered her weight down onto my body, and her cleavage welled up under my chin.

“Every night we share together makes me feel things I haven’t felt in years. And you make that happen.”

Her hand slid into my sleep shorts and found my damp sex. My hips started to buck against her palm.

“And your cooking, my god…”

I let out a soft whimper.

“Everything you make is better than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

Her words stimulated my ears while her fingers stimulated my pussy. She kissed my face and neck, and my eyes lost focus.

“Touch my boobs,” She commanded, “Feel how big they are.” I brought both shakey hands up to knead the fat orbs squeezed between us.

“Your food made them like this. I can’t stop eating your food.”

My breath was so loud in my head that it almost drowned out her voice. She nibbled on my ear and whispered, “Everything you make is so delicious. If you keep feeding me, I’ll just eat and eat.”

It was too much. Lost in a fog of perfect stimulation, I let out a soft moan.

“I’ll eat so much of your amazing food; my boobs will keep getting bigger and bigger…”

I couldn’t stop it. Stars filled my vision as I came, and a scream rasped from the back of my throat. As I bucked and writhed under Christie’s weight, she pressed a hand over my mouth.

It was too late. The damage was done. Through the wall, we heard a soft crash. Then Stacy’s voice.

“Really‽”

“Sorry, hon!” Christie called.

She looked down at me, but I was still riding out one of the best orgasms of my life.

“Breakfast in 10?” She called to her daughter.

The muffled voice through the wall said, “Fine. Call me when it’s ready.” After a pause, she added, “And you two better be dressed this time!”

Christie looked back at me and giggled. As I started to catch my breath, I couldn’t help but laugh too. She rolled off me onto her back, and we lay there while I panted.

“H-holy shit…” I finally said.

“Did I do good?”

“That was amazing,” I rolled over to hug her. “I love you.”

Christie stroked my hair, “I love you too, sweet girl.”

Her stomach growled.

“I think we’re ready for breakfast now,” she laughed, “After all,” she pulled my head into her chest, enveloping my face with her scent and the heat of her massive mommy milkers, “These girls aren’t gonna grow themselves.”

X

I moved in with Christie a week after reconciling with Stacy. It seemed fast to me, but when Christie heard about my “roommate search” struggle, she insisted. We’re still just girlfriends for now—though I hope someday, Christie will let me convince her to make ‘us’ official.

We’re not a perfect couple by any means. We have disagreements and fights like anyone. But after some time and a little vulnerable honesty, we’re always able to come back together. Now that the fall semester has started, Stacy’s living in the dorms, and we can be as loud as we want. Well, I can be loud—Christie still rarely gets much above some soft humming. Once in a while, I can get her to hum a coherent tune while I’m going down on her, and it’s almost as good as the sounds she makes while eating my food. Almost.

We made Stacy promise to come home for dinner at least once a week, and I’m already looking forward to our next Thanksgiving together. With me in charge of dinner, I wonder if I can get my blonde bombshells to set a new record for the Holiday of Gluttony. Both Christie’s and Stacy’s appetites have grown a fair bit in the past year, along with their spectacular curves.

***

It took some time to perfect a curry recipe that wasn’t too spicy for my girlfriend and her daughter, but I’d managed it on the fourth attempt. Christie had already put away three bowls of chicken, shrimp, and veggies in yellow sauce over rice, but I knew she had room in her at least one more bowl. I leaned over her enormous breasts where they rested on the table, pot of curry in one hand, ladle in the other.

“Another bowl, Momma?”

While Christie nodded, Stacy said, “What did I say about that ‘mommy’ stuff while I’m here?”

“Momma isn’t mommy, but I’m sorry, Stace.” I filled Christie’s bowl halfway with rice, then ladled curry on top. “Do you want some more, too?”

Stacy had just finished her second bowl and was looking thoughtfully at her own nearly head-size breasts. What I was calling ‘bowls’ were more like small serving bowls, at least twice what you’d get if you ordered curry at a restaurant.

“If I gained like a normal girl,” Stacy said, “I’d suspect you were an evil stepmother trying to fatten me up.”

There was a time when such an accusation would have left me flustered and sputtering, but I was finding that a lot of my insecurities had faded away with Christie’s presence in my life.

“Me!?” I asked mockingly, “I would never try to fatten anybody up.”

“Unless you count fatting up their tits!” Christie added.

“Moooom!”

“Besides,” I said, “I’m not your stepmom. Even when –er– if we get to that point, I’ll still always just be your friend.”

Stacy choked on her sweet tea.

“Sofi baby,” Christie said, “are you getting… ideas?”

I felt a chill run up my spine but decided to keep the moment playful—I knew Christie and I weren’t ready to really have that conversation.

“Maaaaybe… but we should probably save that talk for sometime when there’re no k-i-d-s’s around.”

Stacy scoffed, her mouth hanging open indignantly.

“You better go ahead and dish her another bowl, Sof. I don’t think she’s getting enough to eat at that college of hers.”

“I think you’re right, babe,” I said, grabbing Stacy’s bowl and scooping rice into it before she could object, “You need more meat on your bones if you want to find a nice boy.”

“That’s right,” Christie added, “A nice womanly body like your momma’s.” She squeezed her calcium canons between her thick upper arms, making them swell up under her chin.

Stacy accepted her third bowl with a playful scowl, “You two are the worst…”

Epilogue

I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when Stacy’s head poked in the door.

“You ‘bout ready?”

Stacy wore a pink bridesmaid dress that showed a lot of cleavage. It was a good thing the ceremony was small, and we had no other bridesmaids, or they’d have all been overshadowed by Christie’s beautiful daughter.

“Oh, Stace, you look amazing!”

Stacy bounced into the room to stand behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

“Me? Look at you!”

My hair was in an elaborate ‘up-do,’ and I’ll confess I’d never felt quite so pretty.

“I still kinda wish you’d gone with a dress, though…” Stacy said.

I brushed invisible lint off my white tuxedo. “This was the right choice. Nobody’s going to be looking at me anyway.

“Wait till you see her, Sof. The dress makes her tits look huge! Well… huge-er.”

Stacy was cupping her own impressive breasts, and I swatted her hands down. “Stop that! Don’t get me horny right before I have to go out there in front of everybody!”

“You’re so easy,” Stacy laughed. “More boob-crazy than a thirteen-year-old boy.”

She met my eyes again, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course!”

“If I’d shown any interest, would you have gone after me instead of Mom?”

A lump formed in my throat, “I thought you weren’t into girls?”

Stacy stepped away, hands raised, “I’m not, I’m not! Just… hypothetically?”

I turned around to wrap my soon-to-be stepdaughter in my arms, “You’ll find someone, Stace, I’m sure of it. I know a few straight guys from school who’d be more than willing to cook for you—if you know what I mean.”

Stacy gently pushed me away from herself, laughing, “You’re such a perv!”

I grinned at her, “To answer your question, I don’t think it would have worked out with us.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I pulled open the door to go meet my bride. “You’re way too young for me.”