Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 TITLE: A MOTHER'S DISCOVERY.  Chapter 1.
TAGS: Incest (mother/son), huge breasts, BDSM, fetish clothing, medical
experimentation, anal, oral, drugs.
SYNOPSIS: As his mother falls into melancholy, following the desertion
of her husband, Joshua realises that his mother is spiraling downwards and
out of control.  He decides to take his mother's rehabilitation on and
rapidly turns her into a second member of his `slut harem'.



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   DON'T LET YOUR KIDS SEE THIS!

   These stories have all been written with a very adult audience in mind.
They all have a very heavy sexual content and will contain combinations of
themes.

   If you are likely to be offended by any of the things mentioned above,
you should not read beyond this point, but immediately navigate away from
this page.

   The act of writing does not mean that the author is in any way engaged
in or complicit to acts of the nature described herein.  The act of writing
(or even reading) about deviance, perversion and degradation can be a
liberating and strangely cathartic experience, but some ostensibly sexual
behaviours are always going to be wrong.  I cannot tell you which, or why.
You have to make those determinations for yourself.

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   A MOTHER'S DISCOVERY #1

   Chapter 1.  Arresting the Slide

   It is a natural condition that a predator doesn't always choose the
prey. More often than not, the prey chooses itself, or rather, gets itself
into a situation whereby its ultimate demise is assured.  The individual
predator that effects the eventual `kill' is merely that which fate has
determined is the closest at the time.  However, it would be fair to say
that the theory loses its simplicity when humans are involved, because
while the prey still chooses itself, more often than not, the predator has
the wit and will to ensure that he is the one most likely to be in at the
finish.

   Joshua's mother had been going steadily downhill since his stepfather
had left her two years before this story takes place.  She had taken her
husband's sudden switch of allegiances to a younger and lower maintenance
bimbo very hard, attempting to drown her sorrows initially in alcohol
(which we all tend to forget, somewhat ironically, is used in many clinical
procedures as a preservative, not just as a cleansing agent), then a
cocktail of antidepressants and painkillers, and eventually wallowing in
self-pity and depression.

   Her only son had been a witness to this rapid descent, but had thus far
been unable to arrest the process, nor even really tried to; excusing what
you might claim to be a filial responsibility with an almost total
immersion in his own pharmaceutical research enterprise.  In this way, his
Mother chose herself as the prey and Josh, having almost unconsciously
insinuated himself into the pattern of those attracted to the struggling
victim, became the predator.

   The catalyst was a call from his mother late one night that caught Josh
still working in his laboratory, his partner long since gone home to a
nerdy evening in front of his bank of PCs, wrestling with the formulas and
drug simulations of the medicines they were trying to produce while Josh
caught up with the tests and analysis they were conducting in the lab.  A
Friday night with the rats was not the kind of evening he'd had in mind, so
it was with a degree of frustration that he heard the slurred voice on the
other end of the line.

   "Joshshhh...  realll sick, baby.  Momma real sick.  Can...can't geddup."
The retching that followed was surround-sound real.

   "Oh Mom, This has got to stop.  You're going to kill yourself with the
booze.  I'm coming over.  Shit."

   "You're a goo' boy to mommy, Jo-Jo.  Mommy...real sick, baby..." The
crash amidst the background noise of a Joni Mitchell album as the phone hit
the floor and another bout of disembodied retching had him hanging up and
running for the door.  _____*****_____

   The front door was wide open when he arrived, some twenty minutes later,
having broken almost every traffic regulation between the university and
his mother's house.  Half expecting someone else to answer, he called from
the hallway, but the house was now almost silent.  She was lying in the
kitchen; legs asprawl and her head on her left forearm, her large bosom
bulging obscenely to the side above a puddle of light brown liquid vomit,
asleep.  Joshua was immediately struck by the sight of her legs, clad in
seamed stockings, and the full cheeks of her ass, cleft by what could only
be a black silk thong.  `She's always dressed a little on the slutty side,'
he reflected, `Wonder why I, especially, didn't notice that before?' The
broad straps of suspenders were pressing grooves into her rounded buttocks
before disappearing beneath the rucked hem of a black mini-skirt.  The
sight caught him completely by surprise for the simple reason that he
suddenly felt an incredibly strong sense of sexual attraction that he'd
never experienced before, made all the stronger by the perverse fact that
his intense feelings were for his own mother and therefore bridged a taboo
that he had never been conscious of before.  His response to this vision
was totally spontaneous: he bent to touch the back of one leg and stroke
from her thigh to the dark band of the stocking top with a gentle finger,
following the line of the seam.

   Her smell was intoxicating.  Even mired in her own vomit, the heady
perfume of her thinly covered sex was hot and redolent on the cool air of
the house.  He breathed deeply once, and then straightened as his mother
began to stir; snatching his palm from the fleshy bulge between above the
stocking, not realizing that it had stopped there; the skin firm, dry and
warm.

   His temper, fomented on the drive over in the Toyota, was suddenly back
in his throat in full force.

   "Get up, mother.  Get up...  You look like a fucking tramp.  Here... 
Jeeze." He hauled her up and propped her in one of the wooden wheelback
chairs, hastily pulled from beneath the long table, "Sit here while I sort
things out."

   As she became semi-conscious and recognised him, she started to laugh.
"Poor Jo-Jo.  Work, work, work; girlfriend gone, so has to look after his
good old Mom.  Good ole' Mom..." She slumped forwards momentarily; her head
in her hands, then straightened again, her upper body slowly swaying in a
small circular motion from the hips.  "Good ole' Mom.  Got nowhere to go
an' no one to do." She began to laugh again, and then the cackles turned to
tears that began to streak her face with mascara.

   Joshua grabbed her shoulders and tried to steady her, but she thrust his
hand away and tried to twist out of his grasp.  Without a second thought,
the young man slapped his mother open-palmed across the face, "Pull
yourself together, you tramp." He backhanded her, catching her other cheek,
"You've got to pull yourself together, Mom.  This can't happen again. 
You've got to get out of this and get your own life back on track."

   The crying had stopped instantly.  She looked up at him with eyes wide,
her cheeks reddening with the stinging violence of the blows, but her body
responding to his commanding tone.  "But Josh..."

   "Don't `but Josh' me.  I've heard it all before and I don't want to hear
it again.  Look at yourself.  You're a drunk.  You're not old either.  For
God's sake, you're only forty-two years old.  Dad's gone and he isn't
coming back.  Get used to it.  It's you and me."

   A hand went to her cheek, wonderingly, "You slapped me." "And I'll slap
you like a dumb bitch some more if you don't start snapping out of it."

   "Not a dumb bitch.  You shouldn't..."

   "If you're not, then start acting like it.  I swear Mom; if you don't
start doing exactly what I say, then either I start slapping you again, or
I'm gone.  It's for your own good.  Somebody has to take a firm hand on
you, or you're going to hell in a handcart.  There's no one else, so I got
the job.  If you don't like it, just say and I'm out of here..." He still
held her by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.  "Just say..."

   "No.  Don't want you to go...  lose you too.  You're right..." The tears
began to run in mascara channels again.  "I'm sorry...  losing it, again.
I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

   Right, well, get upstairs for a start.  I'll help.  We'll get you
cleaned up and I'll put you to bed." She nodded her head in acquiescence
and the course of her future as an item of prey was largely determined at
that very moment.

   _____*****_____

   The son helped the mother upstairs with an arm under hers and the other
across her shoulders.  As they slowly climbed, the woman staggering a
little, Joshua couldn't stop staring at his mother's breasts, stretching
out the thin material of the sparkly Lycra tank top and bouncing at every
step.  When they got to the bathroom door, the older woman was slightly
surprised that he opened the door and then supported her right in.

   "I can manage, Josh."

   "No, you can't, Mother.  Take off your skirt and blouse and I'll give
you a wash.  I'll put them into cold water to soak later.  Sit on the
toilet and I'll use a cloth.  Quickly now..."

   She tried to protest, "But, I can manage, Jo-Jo, and I'm your..." He
quashed the words before she could get them out, and that edge of
authoritative menace had her trembling internally, quailing before a side
of her own son that she had never seen before, nor thought could exist in
him.

   "Quickly, let me unzip you, there...  now step out of the skirt.  That's
right, good.  Now let me lift this..." He grasped the hem of the top above
either hip and lifted as her arms automatically reached upwards.  The true
magnificence of her huge breasts was now revealed to the newly hungry eyes
of her own son.

   "That's right.  Good girl.  Now, sit down and I'll clean you up." Her
arms had instinctively crossed in front of the lace-covered torpedoes of
her tits as the top fell away, but she realised that she wasn't covering
very much from the young man.  The thought that she was standing before
him, clad only in stockings, a silk thong and her brassiere, was causing
her far more than mere embarrassment.  In fact, she had seen something in
his eyes that made her feel nineteen again, made her pulse race and
thoughts race though her still-befuddled mind at a pace that was too fast
to fix anything but a sense that she was becoming aroused.

   As she turned towards the toilet, she reached to take a towel off the
rail, but was again prevented by her son's instruction.  "No, you won't be
needing that.  After all, I'm your own son.  We're both adults...  and it's
nothing I haven't seen before.  All's said and done mother, I was breast
fed, wasn't I?"

   "Yes, darling, but..."

   "You agreed, remember?  Agreed to do anything and everything I say. 
Well, consider that to be an order, Melanie."

   His use of her first name, rather than her title sent a shiver down her
spine that was anything but maternal.  She submitted to having her face and
arms washed down with the washcloth, arms by her sides, occasionally
looking up into his face as he wiped across her own.

   "Josh, stop looking at your mother's breasts like that.  You're
staring."

   "No, I won't stop looking.  You have a very nice pair of tits, Mom."

   "Joshua!" The arms came up defensively again.  He brushed them away.

   His face leaned in close to hers.  "And stop calling them `breasts'
Melanie.  They're tits.  Big, fat fucking titties.  Breasts doesn't begin
to describe them.  Enormous, fat, fucking udders" Dropping the washcloth,
he placed a hand on ether side of the overfull bra and pressed inwards,
forcing the melons to bulge upwards and forming a cleavage above the line
of her bra that stretched almost to her throat.  With a sharp intake of
breath, she grabbed at his wrists as if to prise his hands away, but he was
far too strong for her and started to clench his fingers into the meat of
her tits.  She shrieked briefly in pain, or surprise, dragging her own
hands away and then seeming to push her chest forwards against the gouging
fingers.

   Then, weakly, "I'm your Mother, Joshua...  your Mother.  You shouldn't
be..."

   He cut her off again.  "You are mine to do with as I please, so get used
to the idea.  You put the necessity for your own disciplined education...
or should I say re-education, into my hands, just like this." He hefted the
weight of her melons in his hands again and then released them, the finger
marks turning from white to red, then slowly fading into the pink suffusion
of her total embarrassment.  "Remember?"

   "Yes, darling, I remember, but..."

   "There you go with that `but' word again.  In future, this is what the
word means, the only thing it means.  Stand up and turn around." He pulled
her to her feet and caught her when her legs threatened to fold under her.
After all, he reasoned, she was still more than half-smashed.  Folding one
arm across her chest, the crook of his elbow under her chin, he moved his
other hand down to the curve of her ass, lightly smoothing it across the
full globes and into the valley between them above the tiny strip of fabric
that bisected them.

   "This is a butt Melanie, a big fat fucking junk-in-the-trunk ass - and
yours will turn to fat if I don't make sure that you begin to exercise it.
Tomorrow will be time enough." He smacked it once, the sound, rather than
the impact making her squeal again.  "Tomorrow is the first day of the rest
of our lives, Mother.  Now, use the toilet and piss, then use this," he
dangled the washcloth, ..."to clean up, dry yourself and get into bed. 
Keep the stockings and your bra on tonight.  In fact, I think that you
should wear stockings all the time, don't you?  And straighten the seams
before you get into bed.  Nothing worse than a woman with nice legs wearing
stockings with twisted seams."

   She was looking up at him out of hooded, cowering eyes.  "If you say so,
Joshua." Head down, the Junoesque woman turned away from the man that now
seemed to be in control of her life, slid the thong down to mid-thigh as
surreptitiously and sat on the pedestal.

   They both appeared to wait, one for the other to leave so she could
relieve her bladder and the other for the splashing sound.  After long
moments, the pressure on her bladder could no longer be denied, and she
could feel herself blushing furiously as a stream of her urine squirted
into the bowl.  When her eyes were raised to look at him again, her son
smiled, took a long and deliberate look at the triangle of black hair that
pointed downwards towards her sex, and then paced softly out of the
bathroom.

   As she finished and completed his instructions, the only sound was the
subtle rasp of her stocking tops where they met on the inside of her
thighs. As she walked, semi-naked, out of the bathroom, her mind was a
foment of contradictions.  She felt on a very instinctive level that what
was happening was very wrong, but every sense that now thrilled in her own
body was singing that this was so very right.  She had never felt so
ashamed and embarrassed - and never felt so hugely turned on.  Her body was
on fire...  and she could feel the headache waiting too.

   _____*****_____

   Joshua woke her early, gave her two white tablets and a quick gulp of
water, and let her go mercifully back to sleep.  It was not enough time for
her to recollect the events of the night before, nor for the inner turmoil
to return.  Her hangover wasn't as bad as she had expected, but a consuming
lethargy let her fall back into a deep sleep.

   Consciousness returned when the sun rose above the trees at the back of
the house and filtered through the curtains to splash the room in swathes
of gold and cream.  She hadn't woken up feeling quite as comfortable as
this in an age.  Feeling the pull of the suspender belt at her waist as she
stretched, the recognition of what it indicated was followed in a flash by
lucid memories of her homecoming and the intervention of her son.  She sat
up in bed with a jerk, just as the sound of footfalls on the stairs
signaled his reappearance.  He bounced into the room with an
uncharacteristic gaiety and greeted her wary trepidation with a broad
smile.

   "Come on, mother, we're going cycling before breakfast.  Then we'll
discuss your change of lifestyle.  You're going to get fit and fabulous, so
let's get started..." He threw a glossy carrier-bag on the bed and invited
her, "Put those on and join me at the front of the house.  I dug the bikes
out of the garage and pumped up the tires, so we're ready to rumble.  Come
on, lazy bones.  No headache?  No more nausea?  Well, let's get moving."

   With this, he turned and disappeared again, chuckling as he went.  The
complete lack of any reference to the previous encounter made her more
confused, rather than less.  It was as if it hadn't happened.  Perhaps
she'd dreamt the whole thing.  Then, she threw back the coverlet and opened
the bag from the expensive designer store in the mall, Thoughts boiling
into the ether all over again as she sat there bemused with the garments in
her hand.  There were only five very thin and ultra-light items: two pairs
of spandex pedal-pushers; one in pink and the other in black, matching
spandex bodysuits with long sleeves and a high-cut hip, and a rubberized
sports jacket.

   Before she tried pulling on the leggings, she looked at her reflection
in the mirror opposite the bed and contemplated changing out of the
stockings, deciding rapidly to merely change the thong and open a packet of
new stockings when she thought of what Joshua's reaction might be. 
Absently, she straightened the seams, her mind still not fully charged and
yet buzzing invisibly with questions and possibilities.

   When she pulled on the pedal-pusher tights she realised that they left
very little to the imagination in any case.  The suspenders and studs; even
the slightly tighter stocking tops, were all clearly outlined under the
skin-tight material.  `I could surely never go out in public dressed in
such a way, could I?' she wondered to herself, still beginning to pull on
the swimming costume-like bodysuit top and rubber jacket.  Several minutes
more were frittered away in a series of slow pirouettes in front of the
mirror, the smoothing of Lycra material against the warmth of the silk
beneath and the studied contemplation of every vestige of the clothing and
body beneath her gaudy new skin.

   The jacket fitted her like paint; the zipper reaching all the way up
under her chin to pull the jacket taught across the mounds of her breasts.
`No, tits,' she corrected herself.  `Josh says they're not `breasts',
they're tits; titties.  I have titties.  Melanie has big titties' and she
giggled to herself, sounding far younger than her forty-two years, even to
herself.

   They bulged obscenely against the stricture of the material and she
waggled them, experimentally, gazing in the mirror upon the reflection of a
woman that she no longer recognised.  She smiled, "We're going cycling. 
Maybe no one will see us," she said to herself, and left the room,
following a distant summons from her son.

   They circled the nearby park several times.  Melanie started to lose
pace and interest until Joshua pulled a switch from a hazel tree and
proceeded to cane her on her very vulnerable ass when she slowed down.  He
kept telling her it was for her own good, and she could hardly fault him
for his intent, but he persisted in riding behind her and she was convinced
that his eyes never left her buttocks once, except for the times when a
group of louts playing football in a clearing between the trees shouted
some indecipherable comments and a man jogging with his dog whistled at
her.

   She found herself reveling in a level of attention that she hadn't
experienced in a long time, even though much of it was from her own son -
perhaps because it was her own son.  She realised she was having to remind
herself of this over and over again.  It was all too easy to forget, and
that wasn't a consequence of the last ten hours or so that she'd ever
considered possible.  The welts on her buttocks were stinging reminders of
his newly-assumed position, and she secretly and silently factored this
information into the development of this unreal relationship.

   By the time they got back to the house, Melanie found that her torso was
soaking wet under the jacket and sweat had soaked the crotch and back of
the leggings; even her tits had dark outlines of sweat beneath the cups,
but she felt strangely vibrant, as if something more than physical exercise
had taken place.  Water actually dripped from the jacket when she peeled it
off.  Her nipples hardened to bullet-points almost immediately as the crisp
morning air found the sheen of sweat on her clothes and skin.  They pressed
against the material like thimbles.  Joshua sent her in to shower while he
put the bikes back in the garage.

   Over breakfast, he began to outline what he referred to as her personal
`Sea Change'.  As she sipped at coffee and encountered yoghurt, muesli and
bran for the first time in an age, he spoke slowly and carefully.

   "You'll be repeating the cycling every day, unless it rains, but I'm
going to move my own treadmill over here tomorrow, so you won't be missing
out.  I'm also going to design a simple set of exercises that you will do
twice a day and map out a diet regime that you will follow too.  I don't
want you to lose weight, necessarily.  Well, at least, not a lot.  What we
need to do is to move some of it around and tone and firm you up again. 
Sound good?"

   "Yes, darling.  I...  I know I've let myself go a little lately..."

   "Good.  The other thing you need is someone here on a permanent basis to
help you adjust to all of this." He anticipated her protest before it could
be made.  "Don't worry, I'll be coming back here on a daily basis; the
apartment was getting tiring anyway, but you've been spending too much time
in the house alone and it's let you dwell on the past too much.  You need
to start looking forwards.  We both do.  The settlement left you perfectly
well-off, so that isn't a problem, but you need to start managing your
money better too.  Now, I can handle all of that, but I want someone to
move in here who I can trust and knows what will be best for you; someone
who can respond to my instructions and help you with your own personal
discipline."

   But why not just the two of us?  I can look after myself during the day.
After all..."

   "After all...  you have been doing that since I moved out, right? 
Exactly...  not been going too well, has it!  My girl, Puki, is managing
a...  Well, it's a specialist boutique over on Colson's Street.  She'll be
happy to help out for as long as needed.  Her sister can handle the shop.
I'll send her over this afternoon - so don't go out.  No, on second
thought, get out this morning and get your hair done.  Leave it long, but
get it trimmed and lightened up.  Blondes have more fun, remember?  When
you get back, give me a ring and then wait for her to arrive and see that
she feels right at home.  She can use the spare room to dump her stuff.  I
want you to consider her to be my...  my arbitrator, in my absence.  You
will do everything she tells you to do.  Alright, Mommy?  Understand?"

   "Yes darling, but she's a perfect stranger, and we might not..."

   "Don't worry about any of that.  You'll get to know each other in
no-time flat.  I'll stop by the boutique on my way to the lab.  I want her
to bring some stuff over anyway.  Anything else?"

   "No, Jo-Jo.  I..."

   "Mom, you are not to call me Jo-Jo anymore." The steel was back in his
voice again and his eyes fixed on hers like razors.  "We will put childish
things behind us and you will begin with the rest of your life.  Now," he
pecked her on the cheek." I've got to finish my Christmas shopping and get
to work."

   "But it's March..."

   "Bye." _____*****_____

   The doorbell rang at 3:30.  Melanie gave herself a quick once-over in
the mirror, fluffed her new hair-do back over her shoulders and prepared to
meet her son's girlfriend.  The fleeting thought that he had never actually
referred to her as a `girlfriend' was somewhere in the back of her mind as
she opened the door.

   "Hi, you must be Puki."

   Hi, ye-ees, and you're Melanie.  Wow, you are as beautiful as Joshua-san
said you are.  Wow..." They shook hands, somewhat awkwardly, and then the
girl spontaneously pulled the older woman into her arms and kissed her on
her open mouth.  She smelt like lemons.  "Can you help me with these?  The
taxi driver brought them this far at least." Melanie was surprised and
pleased at the same time; a turmoil of emotions that was quickly becoming
the status quo.

   `These' were two large sports bags; the kind that becomes round in
section when filled to capacity, and these were certainly full.  There were
also two black, plastic storage boxes with handles at each end.  Together,
they lugged the stuff through the door, the young girl chattering with
apparent nervousness.  Melanie was surreptitiously evaluating the
`arbitrator' that she was now going to share her house with, and there was
plenty to see.

   Puki was clearly of Oriental descent, although her distinctly elfin
facial features were highlighted by a dusky dark-olive skin that gleamed
with vitality and her accent was astonishingly educated British
middle-class.  She seemed slightly taller than Melanie's 5'6" with a very
full figure at bust and hips, separated by an incredibly slim waist: A true
hour-glass figure, but taking away the four-inch steel heels on the Oxford
stilettos she was wearing would actually make the girl several inches
shorter.  The use of the Joshua-san title had pegged some kind of Japanese
ancestry, but the deep tan was Indonesian or Malay.  Her long lustrous
black hair was scraped back off her face and held in a French role with a
single chopstick and she wore a black leather choker around her throat with
a small silver plate in the front.

   Puki's black leather bolero jacket was tailored to fit her torso,
accentuating her large pointed breasts, tapering ribcage and that
incredible waist.  The matching skirt was worn to the knee, with long
venting slits on both sides in the style of a Chinese cheongsam, covering
charcoal pantyhose, or stockings.  As the girl bent to take one end of a
box, Melanie saw the flash of stocking-tops and a smile drifted across her
lips...  appreciative.  They woman-handled the bags and boxes up to the
spare room where Puki removed the jacket and handed it to Melanie to hang.
This revealed a longline leather corset, laced from beneath the waistband
of the skirt all the way to her shoulder blades.  Melanie almost whistled.
`No wonder her waist is so tiny,' thought the older woman; then, realizing
that she was staring open-mouthed at the rich brown nipples poking forwards
through special openings in the calf-skin bra, gleaming like polished
mahogany cones, she spluttered, "Puki is a nice name, is it Japanese?"

   "No, it's Indonesian.  It means `cunt', or more literally `little girl's
pee-thing'." She giggled again and smiled right into the woman's eyes. 
"Joshua-san gave me my name when I became his sub-slut.  It's legal now; I
changed to my real name last month in a lawyer's office.  See?" The girl
put a thumb under the band of her choker and tried to push the silver plate
forwards, but there wasn't enough room, so she leant towards Melanie and
pointed to it with her forefinger.  Melanie smelt the lemons again as she
read the engraved inscription, "Puki-slut".  She was really struggling to
take all of this on board...  really struggling!

   "I've belonged to him for almost a year now.  I just know its forever.
That's why I had things like this done..." She turned her back to Melanie,
unzipped her skirt and wriggled it down over her hips until it lay on the
floor around her feet and indicated two tattoos, one on each bare buttock.
Puki was also wearing a thong, but hers was heavy leather and had at least
two buckles in the cleft of her ass that Melanie could see.  The tattoo on
the left was written in two interwoven lines of charcoal lettering, like a
chain, that connected two silvered handcuffs.  She had to lift one of the
suspender bands so that Melanie could see it.  The chain read, "This slut
belongs to Joshua." The one on the right was much lower, on the inside
curve of the buttock, and formed an arrow in black and red.  The arrow
pointed between Puki's buttocks and the words it comprised read "Fuck the
dirty slut here."

   "I'm going to get some more, on my thighs, so that you can always see
them when I wear a mini, but Joshua-san will decide for me."

   Melanie gasped.  "Does my son really call you a...  a, slut?"

   "Of course, it's what I am...  and now that I belong to Josh, I can be
the dirty slut that I've always wanted me to be; the one that's always been
inside me.  My last Domme just wanted to hurt me when he felt like it.  He
tried to hide me away...  was actually embarrassed that I was a part of
what he was.  Joshua-san is so wonderfully different.  He's proud of me,
just as he is of you.  I'm so going to enjoy having a Mommy again.  Mine
died.  Do you mind if I get out of these shoes?  They're really not so
comfortable." She sat on the bed and started to unlace the pointed Oxfords.

   "No, sure." Melanie tried to pick up the reins of a conversation over
which she'd never had any control.  "Don't you mind that my son calls
you... a cunt...?  (As she said the word, she felt the shadow of a spasm in
her own, a kind of clenching) You let him change your name?  "

   The response started with another giggle.  The girl was holding up her
end of the conversation as if she was talking about the price of bread
whilst reaching into one of the plastic storage boxes.  "He can change any
part of me he wants to change.  That's what it means to belong to somebody.
He'll probably change your name when he wants to - and you'll let him,
because you're a slut too.  I can tell, and it's coming to the surface so
fast that it's almost too much for you to handle.  Your sexuality is so
close to the point of release that it must be like sitting on a ticking
bomb - right in your cunt." She laughed again and held up a different pair
of platform shoes that must have had a metal-spiked heel 8 inches long.  Do
you like these?  I've brought a pair for you too," and began to buckle them
on to her small stockinged feet.

   Melanie was floundering.  She felt herself to be sitting on a bomb,
alright, but hers was one of temper...  then the truth blossomed like an
epiphany.  Her blood was pounding with passion, not anger.  She was turned
on and generating heat in her crotch like a steam-train.  Her breathing was
short and the skin on her whole body was flushed with desire.  It was
just...  right.  `I am a slut...  I am a slut..." The credo pulsed through
her mind like a truth drug.  Then, `But, Oh God, I want my son...  I
want... no, I desire my own flesh and blood.  I know how this ends..." That
was the biggest shock.  She knew what she was getting into and she already
what she would do.

   The beautiful Asian was standing again; now almost a head taller than
Melanie, and she wasn't rocking on those towering heels at all.  "That's
better.  Come on.  We've got to do our exercises and you have to wear
heels, or it doesn't have the same benefit." Wear those heels for now. 
Then we've got to shave off your pubic hair and make you look beautiful for
Josh."

   `Beautiful for Josh?' flickered through the mother's mind, but it was
now impossible to equate the woman who had raised her son with the woman
she had become in the last few hours.

   The slut spoke again: "This is going to be so good.  I love playing
dress-up."

   _____*****_____

   Melanie had undergone the tortures of Puki's workout regime, including
something the slut referred to a pussy-crunches and another tweaking of
muscles previously unknown called `tit-lifts'.

   Having assured the corseted girl that she would shave her pubic regions
thoroughly and depilate her legs, thereby resisting the entreaties that
they should shower together, Melanie spent forty minutes in her bathroom
while Puki, she assumed, showered in the one attached to the guestroom. 
When she had finished, she put her shortest skirt on over the ubiquitous
stockings and suspenders and a thin black nylon polo-neck over a tightly
fitting bra with a longline bodice that was the devil to hook in the back.
Se completed the look with the highest stilettos she possessed: black
patent court shoes, but only four inch heels.  She didn't need to knock on
Puki's door because it had not been closed since she'd moved in to it. 
Now, when she walked softly in, the girl was sitting at the dressing table
mirror, dressed as before, but now applying heavy mascara and eyeliner over
silver eye-shadow.  Apparently, she had finished the moment Melanie walked
in, because the trademark giggle was immediately followed by Puki jumping
up and drawing the older woman towards the bed.

   "Oooh, you look and smell gorgeous.  Sit there while I dig out some
presents." She crouched as low as those amazing platforms would let her and
started opening the bags and boxes, pulling packets and shoe-boxes out as
fast as she could.  "Ah, here it is.  This is yours..." Puki opened a plain
white box and pulled out a piece of black rubber that gave off a small
cloud of white talc as she waved it in delight.  "Quick, Melanie, let me
help you take off that top...  Oh Mommy, a longline bra.  Sooo sexy.  Come
on, turn around and I'll unhook you."

   Having so recently put them on, and still in a degree of shock at
everything that was happening to her, apparently at breathless, whirlwind
speed, Melanie tried to protest, but spun at the physical insistence of the
girl and felt her breasts suddenly push down and forwards as the material
lost its control over her.  She was spun again.  "Oh mommy, you have such
beautiful tits." Puki's hands were already cupping and weighing them. 
"God, no wonder your son wants you for himself.  I wish mine were as full
as these, but I'm getting there.  Joshua has been testing a new hormone on
me that has already pushed these puppies up two cup sizes.  "She stuck her
chest out, proudly, and then continued with her very intimate inspection of
Melanie's 35 EEs.  "I'll bet he's already thinking about giving you a
really huge pair of fucking titties.  Oh, Mommy, you're going to have the
kind of udders that any slut would be proud of.  Here, put this on.  I'll
help."

   `Jo-Jo's giving you drugs to make your tits bigger,' was the fleeting
thought, `and mine aren't already big enough?'

   Before Melanie could mount any sort of resistance, the girl was helping
her to put on a rubber bra with cups that completely enclosed the breasts
at the front, while a thicker under-bra and deep back gave her tits enough
support to make them bounce at the most minute movement.  Puki also helped
her into a strange arrangement of leather straps and buckles that
materialised, when properly fitted, as a kind of `outline' bra, with a
strong fastening in the back, over the rubber bodice, and more straps that
`framed' her tits at the front.  When she asked the girl what kind of a
garment this was, she was told, with another giggle, that it was a `bondage
bra'.  The purpose of the straps that dangled to either side of the breasts
was soon clear.  Puki pulled each one around the top of the breasts, passed
them through a triangular buckle that connected with the one passing under
her tits and then up the outside of the woman's tits to a big buckle.  When
the straps encircled each tit, the Asian girl slowly pulled them tighter
and tighter, enjoying the sight of the breasts ballooning grotesquely from
the band of leather as it squeezed into the rubber and meat like a
tourniquet.  She only stopped edging the straps up a hole at a time when
the woman exhaled with a soft moan.

   "What does it feel like, Mommy?  You are such a beautiful slut, Melanie.
Betcha feeling new things now, huh?  Feeling that sense of restriction and
control?  Feeling like your body is reveling in sensations that you never
knew existed before?  Feeling a whole new level of sexy?"

   "Puki, I don't think...  I...  maybe they're too tight...  Jeeezus..."
Her voice faded, and she realised that she'd never raised her arms to try
and stop any of this happening, even though they were completely free at
her sides, merely moved them out of the girl's ways as she'd fitted the
rubber and leather.

   "Feeling dirty, Mommy?" Puki pulled Melanie's hair back, keeping her
hands flat to her scalp as she dragged it into a pony tail, slipped on a
band of some kind and then reached for another item on the bed and produced
a bright red ball on some kind of harness.  Melanie thought she recognised
this from long-forgotten pictures of burlesque queens, like Betty Paige in
black-and-white stag porn magazines of the fifties.  When Puki passed the
harness over her head and asked her to open wide and take the ball into her
mouth behind her teeth, she knew...  "This will help you to stay in
control. Joshua-san loves it when mine starts to dribble drool when I'm
really going over the edge.  The strap over the crown of your head will
prevent the one through the ball from slipping down at the back.  There,
now I'm falling in love with you." She kissed her on the cheek.  Melanie
could smell the girl's perfume, and something else...  something that was
all her and nothing to do with Puki.  Her pussy was dripping wet!

   Next to go on was a pair of rubber panties that had a very strange shape
when it came out of the packet.  Melanie was standing like a statue now.  A
tailor's mannequin; eyes moving, but dumb and motionless, existing in a
realm of experience that was so far beyond her previous capacity for
understanding it was light years beyond anything she could have imagined.
Puki unzipped her skirt and let it fall, then pulled the hi-cut panties
down.  She pushed on Melanie's naked pubic mound to get her to step back
and out of the skirt and panties and then raised the silk gusset of the
knickers to her face, sniffing deeply, then licking, then sucking at the
glistening stain that marked them.  "Oh, Mommy.  You smell so good.  Yum,
yum.  Getting these fitted isn't going to be a problem, is it..."

   The rubber panties were unfolded and Puki held them up for Melanie to
see.  The rubber was cut in the same pattern as the silk panties that she'd
just juiced, but the difference was that two dildoes were fitted into the
gusset of the panties and a strap like a leather string bikini in Puki's
other hand was obviously to hold them in place.  Still, the mannequin that
was Melanie showed no resistance.  Indeed, if she could have spoken to Puki
at that moment, she would have asked what other delights were to come; so
completely had the mature woman fallen under the spell of becoming the slut
that had always been forbidden to appear...  always been suppressed in her.

   Puki pulled the panties up Melanie's legs, and then paused to rummage
for a jar of Vaseline before carefully lubing up the 6inch rubber cock that
was soon to lodge in Melanie's ass.  The girl chattered to herself and her
new mother as they `played dress-up' "You're going to love this bit. 
Taking a dildo, or even better, having Joshua-san force his huge cock up my
ass, always turns me on like crazy.  I'm going to nudge it up against your
button now, like that...  that's it, move your legs apart a little more,
like that...  and when I start to push on it, veeery slowly, you should
start pushing back when you feel it begin to enter through your ring. 
That's it, Mom, push a bit, like you're taking a shit.  There, it's sliding
in beautifully.  Don't clench, that's right.  I'm going to slide the other
cock into your pussy now, then pull up the panties.  Darling, you are a
natural.  How does that feel?" Another small series of moans came softly
through the ball gag as saliva began to drool from the woman's pouting
bottom lip.  Melanie was in slut-heaven.

   The strapping was adjusted to snug up into the crack of Melanie's crotch
and buttocks, pushing the two dildoes firmly into their appointed places...
a grunt from behind the ball.  Suddenly, both began to vibrate inside
Melanie's body, the one in her cunt feeling immediately as if it were
boring into her womb, whilst the one in her ass seemed determined to join
it.  Puki leaned in and kissed her on the other cheek and whispered,
"Remote control..."

   A sleeve of some kind was passed up over the woman's arms and laced to
pin them together behind her.  The ties at elbow and wrist seemed to be
cutting off the blood flow, but the older woman was past caring.  Then Puki
pulled a hood over the front of Melanie's head and snugged it down around
her neck, pulling the kidskin leather tight against her face and buckling
it in the back above and beneath the pony-tail of Melanie's hair.  "Nearly
done.  You look sooo sexy, mommy.  You look so fuckin' hot.  Sooo fuckin'
slutty." Puki apparently couldn't resist grasping the huge swollen fruits
of Melanie's tits as she moved back in front, making them bounce, pulling
them apart and then slapping them together, stroking at the bullet-hard
nipples that strained against their rubber prison.  "I want titties like
these.  I want fucking huge mommy titties.  God, you are so hot."

   As the woman's body filled with the hot blood of lust and her eyes
fluttered shut against the overloading of her sensuality, she felt the girl
slide a skirt of some kind up her legs and then begin pulling that tight
around her bottom and thighs with a series of straps that passed from the
outside seam to buckle at the back.  Puki was relentless, ignoring the
grunting and hauling hard on the straps under the buttocks and down the
backs of the thighs.  Melanie's legs were pulled together and hobbled, all
the way down to the backs of her calves.  The pressure on the vibrating
dildoes increased with every notch in the straps, until the whole of her
lower body seemed to be smouldering with fire.

   Just when it seemed that she could not be constrained further, Puki
passed a boned waspie in black and white vertical stripes around Melanie's
midriff, under her mushrooming titties and began to lace it at the back. 
Once the lacing had been passed through all the eyelets, starting at the
midpoint of the garment and weaving upwards to cover the rubber bra and
buckles of the leather harness and downwards to the lacy hem that met the
top of the leather skirt, she went back and worked the laces again to
tighten the garment still further, and then again after an instruction to
breathe out.  When the operation was complete, Melanie was afraid that she
would never be able to breathe in again, but found that the stiffness made
her feel taut and proud.  She wondered what her own waist looked like now.

   At the last, Puki made her step up into a pair of impossibly high
stilettos and fastened them around her ankles with three parallel straps
that each fastened with a tiny padlock.  "Wouldn't want you losing one by
mistake, would we?  Joshua-san picked them out, along with the other pairs.
He knew exactly what would look good on you, Mommy-slut" sang the melodious
Asian voice...  and there it was; her new name...

   Puki then maneuvered the tottering woman to face the full-length mirror
on the inside of the wardrobe door.  "I want you to watch yourself having
your very first slut orgasm," the girl chuckled.  "Open your eyes, Mommy."

   Melanie looked through the slits in the hood and saw the shiny black
mummy that she had become.  Tall and shaped like an hour-glass, she felt...
dressed.  It was more than merely wearing leather and rubber.  It was way
more than feeling so dirty and slutty.  She felt encased...  cocooned
against the external world and almost totally focused in upon herself;
introverted.  She was tied and strapped and hobbled - and all of this had
allowed her to look in at the woman she had, perhaps, always been under the
skin.  That denial was no longer possible, because she could no longer deny
herself.  She was a slut, and felt as only sluts can feel - released from
the boundaries of normality and patterns of conditioning - released to be
the slut by the paradox of clothing that bound her.  Something was
happening to the woman that seemed not to be happening to the image in the
mirror.

   Her orgasm hit her like a body blow, starting in her belly and exploding
outwards like napalm in her flesh.  She surrendered to the waves of blue
fire that caressed her mind, moaning and grunting in animal passion against
the ball-gag.  Her cunt and asshole were incandescent with a lava-flow of
lust and surrender.

   The waves refocused.  Another shock of tensile sex - and another.  She
was dying.  She was living...  for the first time.  It was an unbearable
crescendo of sensation that kept on building.  She heard someone shrieking,
but not in pain...  It was a stranger, but no longer.  The room faded from
sight in an orgy of sensation.  She toppled backwards like a totem.

   _____*****_____

   "Wow, we really blew your mind, didn't we?  I've never seen anything
like that before.  You were amazing." Puki was sitting beside her as she
lay on the bed, stroking her breasts and face.  The hood had gone, as had
the ball-gag, and the vibration in her crotch had subsided too...

   "How long was I...  out of it?"

   "Almost ten minutes.  When you're ready, roll over and I'll take off the
glove."

   "Wait, leave it for a minute.  What happened?"

   "Well, you fell right on top of me and we both collapsed in a heap on
the bed.  Even after you blacked-out, your body was still coming.  You were
going as stiff as a board one minute and flopping like a beached dolphin
the next.  All the time you were grunting like an animal giving birth.  I
thought you were having a fit or something.  Are you OK?"

   "I'm fine.  Amazing, really; that has never happened to me before."

   "You mean, you never had an orgasm before?"

   "No, not that.  I've had...  but they were...  never as `total' as that
was.  Like my whole body was coming; every cell, every millimeter of my
skin, every hair on my body.  I thought I was going to die."

   "The French call it, `the little death."

   "Oh, there was nothing `little' about that.  Thank you Puki."

   "Thank Joshua-san.  Everything comes from him.  I was just the
messenger...  the choreographer." Puki stopped playing with Melanie's tits
and leaned in to kiss her, their massively bulging mammaries squashing into
each other as their mouths met.  For the first time, Melanie felt another
woman's tongue in her mouth and tasted her own juices on Puki's lips.  The
fire was building again...

   _____*****_____

   Joshua called about 15 minutes before he arrived.  The two women used
the time to finish making each other up and pulling their hair back into
pony-tails, worn high on the back of the head; the hair oiled slightly and
lying flat to the scalp.

   Puki was still wearing the corset and 8inch platform pumps.  Knowing
what this meeting between her Domme and his slut mother meant to the two of
them, she had thoughtfully spent most of her time preparing the older
woman, calming her nervousness and reassuring her constantly.  The bondage
strapping around the breasts had gone, as had the rubber bra and panties.
Melanie now wore a doe-skin leather bra inside the waspie, her titties
bulging obscenely over the tops of the cups, forced upwards by the
corset-like garment.

   When Puki had bent to the laces again, Melanie had even asked her to get
them tighter and further constrict her waist.  Puki had rummaged in a box
until she found a pair of wooden-handled hooks that she used to work the
laces until Melanie's waist was almost the equal of her own.  Every new
addition was admired with a multitude of poses in front of the mirror. 
Melanie realised that she liked `playing dress-up' too, just as long as the
clothing was leather and rubber slut-wear.  Puki promised that she would
have her own corsets, "Just as soon as I get your measurements and put my
people to work."

   "You make corsets?" "Well, not exactly.  I supply them - on a strictly
made-to-measure basis.  Didn't Joshua tell you about my shop?"

   "Yes, darling, he did, but said it was some kind of boutique on
Colson's."

   Yeah, well, my father ran off when I was a kid, like Joshua-san's, but I
was much younger.  I went to live with my Japanese uncle in Hong Kong.  My
mother kind-of disappeared.  He had a clothing manufacturing factory in
Kowloon and another in Bangkok.  When he recognised the size of the
potential market for...  shall we say, fetish stuff, he started making
leather garments in Thailand for export.  That's where I got started.

   My cousin and I wanted to expand into south-east Asia; Miko is his
daughter, and he supported us.  That's where the rubber stuff came in.  We
got the patterns from the US, copied and improved the designs, and now we
have shops all over.  Well, uncle does.  Miko and I manage the boutique in
the Colson street mall and handle the import business from there too. 
Thank God for online sales and marketing.  She's taking over for a bit,
while Joshua-san wants me here.  I'm sure she'd like to be here too.  She
has a real thing for him, but I haven't let her in yet.  Joshua-san lets me
vet all of the potential partners he wants to take."

   Puki could be a real chatterbox, the woman thought, then said, "So, did
I pass inspection?"

   "Of course, silly; there was never a doubt, was there?  I feel as if
this has always been happening, rather than `going to happen'.  I love you
already.  But hey, tell you what, when we're together, call me something
other than `darling'.  You sound like one of my many aunts."

   "Well, what should I call you?  How should I refer to you, if not with a
term of endearment?"

   "Well, you're a slut now.  You're about to meet your Domme for the first
time, and you're waiting for him with me - a slut that already belongs to
him.  I don't know.  `Darling' just sounds so odd."

   "I'll just call you Puki then."

   The girl frowned momentarily, then brightened again, "I want our names
for each other to be special ones, like pet-names.  Do you want to call me
`Cuntie'?  I think I'd like that.  It's slutty, and I'm a slut.  But it's a
name that you can only use when we are alone together, alright?"

   They sniggered together.  "Alright, Cuntie.  I don't know what you want
to call me...  Mommy-slut?"

   "No, Joshua-san will probably call you that anyway." She flicked at the
bulge of Melanie's décolletage.  "I'd say `Melons' is fairly appropriate,
wouldn't you?" They giggled like schoolgirls.

   Beneath the waspie was a black leather micro-mini skirt that did nothing
to cover the tops of rubber stockings, held up by four broad suspender
straps on either side that ran from the hem of the micro, under the skirt
and connected to large silver snaps on the stocking-tops.  Melanie's pubic
mound shone through the mesh of a tiny triangle of black material,
appearing as an arrow that pointed down into the crack of her cunt.  She
had also been practicing with the stilettos, which, Puki informed her, had
seven-inch chromium steel heels and spring steel arches, with a one inch
platform.  The older woman wondered if she would ever get into the
ballet-pumps that Puki had shown her in the bedroom, let alone walk in
them, but the girl had already demonstrated that this was possible.  Like a
ballet dancer at point, she had walked around the landing upstairs without
the slightest need for support.  Melanie was amazed at all the things a
slut needed to know and the skills requiring training and practice.  "Don't
worry, Mommy-slut, you'll be running around in these in less than a month."
Melanie had looked at the ten inch heels and tiny platform under the girl's
toes and found herself hoping this would be true.  She so wanted to see her
son's eyes on her...  on her sluttiness, her fat titties, her tiny waist
and her naked cunt.

   "Do you think he'll like me?" she asked at last, the least waver in her
voice.  She was looking at the silver-grey eye-shadow and the heavy mascara
and liner that looked back at her from the glass and thinking, `Is that
really me?  I look amazing.  Looking amazing makes me feel amazing.  I am
truly alive for the first time ever.'

   Of course, silly slut.  He already loves you as a mother, and soon he'll
be taking you into his arms as his slut and kissing you and fucking you. 
I'm jealous," she pouted.  "No, I'm not, because I'm going to be part of
that too."

   "Of course, silly slut?  You..." The words were stricken into silence by
the sound of the front door opening.

   "Oh fuck,' said Puki, `He likes to be met at the door.  We'll have to be
quicker tomorrow." Then, shouting, "We're up here, Joshua-san.  In your
mother's room.  No..." she corrected herself, "...in our room."

   _____*****_____

   As Joshua entered the room, his eyes naturally passed over a smiling
Puki and then fell on the vision that used to be his mother as she stood
with her back to the mirror and her hands at her sides.

   "Oh my God, Mother, you are totally beautiful." He reached for her hand
and pulled her to him.  "...And so tall, suddenly." He could smell a new
perfume in the heat that was rising from the flush of her skin.

   "I'm more than just your mother now, Joshua-san.  I'm a slut.  I've
always been a slut, and thank God I found out before it was too late.  Now
I want you to take me for your slut." Her eyes had been on his thus far,
but she couldn't maintain the connection with his deep, dark eyes and
survive this.  "I want you to take me as your slut; take me any way you
want, Joshua-san.  I want to belong to you."

   "You do, now, baby," he whispered, I want this more than anything.  As
his hands moved from her shoulders to cup her heaving titties on either
side and his lips began to lock with her own, they could both feel Puki
fall to her knees between them and hear the noise as she unzipped her
master's fly.
   END OF PART ONE 2011