SpartacusDA
patreon
Stacy's Mom - 4/6
🕑 Added 2023-11-08 14:00:07 +0000 UTC
Contains: Breast Expansion as Weight Gain, Feeding
------------
Stacy’s Mom
VI
My last few months of college went by in a blur. I went to class, cooked and baked my senior projects, and spent as much time as possible with Christie. While she and her daughter were veritable food dumpsters—gobbling up each and every dish I put in front of them—their feedback helped me perfect my specialties. I passed my senior-level presentation dishes with high marks.
“Congratulations, sweetie –hmm– I’m so proud of you…” Christie hummed and stroked my hair as I nibbled and suckled at her firm pink nipple, her plump, bare breast filling my view.
I let her slip out of my mouth with a wet –pop– and craned my neck to see her face. “It’s thanks to you taste-testing for me.”
She huffed. “You were an amazing chef when we met, but that’s sweet of you to say.” Her hand urged my head back down, and I latched my lips back onto her still-wet nipple.
I don’t know if Stacy’s mom awakened a ‘mommy’ fetish in me or if I woke her latent bisexuality. Probably a little of both. Her left hand cradled my head while her right groped my own small breasts, then drifted down to stroke a finger over my pants gently. I let out a low moan, but just as she was starting to undo my fly, we were interrupted by a low rumbling against my head. Christie chuckled, making my upper body shake where I lay in her lap.
“Want to take a break for dinner?” I asked, reaching up to run a finger along the curve of one massive breast.
“Hmm…” Christie stroked me through my jeans again, and my whimper turned into a squeak as she grabbed a handful of my ass. “Maybe just a snack. This is way more fun when I’m not fit to burst.”
I sat up, laying a hand on Christie’s soft tummy. “You don’t have to stuff yourself for my sake, you know? Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Stacy’s mom met my eyes. “Believe me, Sofi, your cooking is one hundred percent worth it.” She grinned wickedly. “Seeing you enjoying me enjoying it is just icing on the cake.” Her stomach grumbled again. “By the way… did you bring any cake?”
***
“We” had a quick snack break: three slices of cake, half a summer sausage, and an entire block of cheese. Afterward, Christie led me to her bedroom, where we spent three solid hours exploring each other’s bodies. I’d only had a few girlfriends over the years, and while none of them were flat-chested like me, Christie was by far the curviest. Her rump was twice the size of mine, which means it was still pretty tight for a woman who ate like she did. She had hips to match her delicious ass, and her thighs were like creamy tubes of dough that I loved running my hands down. Her waist was soft while still small enough to give her a bit of an hourglass shape, and while her tummy wasn’t flat, the gentle roundness was a constant reminder of her incredible appetite, making my body yearn for hers even more.
While I loved every inch of Christie’s body, none of her delicious parts could distract me from her tits for long. After several rounds of eating each other out and playing with some of Christie’s toys—and a few of my own I brought over—we laid together in her queen-size bed. I tucked my right arm under a pillow below Christie’s head, pressing my front against her back as we relaxed in the afterglow. It was truly my “happy place.” With my left arm draped over her body, my fingertips stroked her left breast with a rhythmic feather touch.
Christie chuckled lightly.
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Stacy’s mom said.
“Christie…”
“It’s just… I’ve been with a few ‘boob men,’ but I never knew there were boob girls.”
I pulled my arm off her, letting it lay on my side. My thoughts started to swirl. I felt a desperate urge to run away and curl up in a corner somewhere.
Christie must have sensed my body pulling away from hers because she rolled over to face me. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing…”
“Hey…” She put one small pale hand on my cheek, and I met her eyes. “Talk to me.”
Between her motherly tone and being naked in bed with her, wholly vulnerable yet completely safe, the “word vomit” came pouring out of me. I must have talked for twenty straight minutes about growing up in my ‘traditional’ family, dealing with the guilt of having a secret fetish and being gay. To her credit, Christie just listened, lying beside me and giving me her full attention while I dumped my emotional baggage all over her. When I finally wore myself out, Christie wrapped me in a soft, warm hug. I sniffed a few quiet tears into her bare chest as she pressed my face into it. Eventually, she spoke.
“Did you know you’re the first person I’ve been with since Stacy’s dad passed?”
“R-really?”
Christie laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised!”
“But you’re so… so…”
“So what?”
“So perfect…” I mumbled, burying my face in her bare breasts.
Christie stroked my hair. “I’m not, but thank you. I know you really mean that. It’s part of what I love about you.”
I pulled back from Christie’s embrace, wide-eyed with shock.
“Paul and I were high school sweethearts. Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but I’ve seen enough to know that it was as close to perfect as you can get in this world. After he was gone… I don’t know. I’ve seen so many friends struggle through divorce or dating or bad relationships; it was easier to just be grateful for the love I’d had…”
I wanted to protest but let her continue.
“For the first few years, I focused on Stacy. She was just starting high school when her dad died, and she needed me. Once she got old enough, I tried going on some dates, but it never felt… right? Does that make sense?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’d pretty much accepted my fate; I’d had one great love of my life, which is more than most people get. I could be content with that.”
“But—“
“But then I met you.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“You make me feel seen, Sofia. In a way that I haven’t felt in a very long time.”
“I–“ Christie pressed a finger to my lips.
“I don’t know why you can’t see how lovely you are, but I do. You’re a beautiful, kind, caring person. You’re more than your sexual preference, more than your “fetish,” as you call it. And I know because I feel it when you look at me. When you’re with me. Stacy’s dad knew me, of course—we practically grew up together. But you, you see me. The men I met on first dates looked at me like appraisers, trying to suss out whether I was worth their time. While you… From that first night when Stacy brought you home, you looked at me like a prospector who’d found gold the way he did. It’s like… Like…”
My whispered interruption was barely audible. “Like I see you the way you apparently see me?”
Christie’s reply came softer, “I guess so, yeah.”
I pushed a strand of blonde hair off her face. “You’re right. I look at you like you’re perfect—because you are.” I kissed her.
When my lips left hers, Christie continued. “Now, I don’t want to hear any more of you being hard on yourself. You hear me?”
I managed to croak out a “yes.”
“And I especially don’t want you to feel bad about yourself for appreciating my body.” She reached for my wrist, and I let her put my hand back on her bare breast. I looked down at my hand, amazed as always at how small it looked against the immense orb.
Christie’s stomach growled, breaking the spell.
“I think it’s almost dinner time. I’m guessing you have something tasty planned to make them grow even bigger?”
Hearing those words come out of Christie’s gorgeous mouth made me see fireworks. Raw, animalistic need flooded my mind, and my whole body shuddered. When my vision cleared, I saw Christie watching me with a knowing smirk.
“Unless… you want to go one more round first?”
***
In the week before graduation, I had almost no responsibilities. So whenever I could—whenever Stacy went to class, or I could devise a decent excuse—I went across town to spend more time with Christie. With a week and change left before we all got kicked out of the dorms for the summer, I felt like our relationship was on a timer. I was determined not to move back into my crowded family home, so I’d made plans with some friends to crash at their place until I found an apartment (and a roommate).
One evening, when I knew Stacy had band practice, Christie and I were sharing dinner. Somewhere during her second plate of spaghetti carbonara, Christie started to chuckle.
“What’s funny?”
“Oh, nothing, it’s just… that song.”
“What song?”
“Stacy’s Mom”
“You’re Stacy’s mom… I don’t get it.”
Christie’s eyes widened. “Oh em gee. You’ve never heard it?”
“Sorry,” I grinned, “I’m not really into oldies.”
“Wow. I guess someone’s not getting a snack later…” Christie pulled her arms together, making her massive breasts swell up under her chin, seeming to grow before my eyes.
“Fine, fine. Tell me about this song. Should I look it up on my phone?”
“Maybe after dinner.” Christie’s plate wasn’t empty, but her eyes said she wanted me to top it up anyway. She watched the creamy pasta and bacon mound rise as I scooped more from the pot. I was already picturing those fats and carbs making her chest swell for real, like her little arm trick.
We watched the music video after Christie had eaten all the pasta—and cheesy garlic bread.
“This was on all the time when I was in college.”
“It does ‘slap,’ as Stacy would say… wait, is she named for this song‽”
Christie burst out laughing, then clutched her rounded tummy with a groan. “Oof, don’t make me laugh right after eating!”
I knelt down to massage my girlfriend’s belly. “Sorry…”
“To answer your question, yes, sort of. It was her dad’s idea, but I had a great aunt, Anastasia, so we told people we named her after her.”
I ran sweeping strokes up and down Christie’s belly, then slid them into the crevice under her huge breasts. I’d say I cupped them, but they were so much bigger than my hands it was more like just pushing them upward.
“Stacy’s mom, hmm? Well… you do ‘got it going on.’”
Christie whimpered in appreciation, then glared down at me. “Don’t you dare tell her. She’ll be furious.”
“I won’t, I promise.” I crawled onto the couch to sit in Christie’s lap, leaning in to peck kisses on her soft neck. I tried not to think about a bigger secret Stacy might be furious about.
***
My abuela always told me that lying is wrong—that the truth will always find you out. The truth found Christie and me out three days after she showed me the music video for her theme song.
“Mmmm how is this even better than the carbonara?” Christie hummed through a bite of spaghetti and meatballs.
“It’s the meat. I’ve always preferred sausage over bacon myself.”
“Hmm, that’s ironic.”
“Huh? Oh. Hush, you.” I swirled a few strands of pasta onto her fork, stabbed a meatball, and held it up to Christie’s mouth.
“Homf What’s with all the pasta, anyway?”
“Don’t you like it?” I asked, dabbing sauce off of her lips with a napkin.
Christie massaged her bloated stomach. “Shut up. Do I look like I don’t like it?”
I forked another bite and tickled Christie’s right breast with my left hand. “Carbs are good for a growing girl…”
“Oh, are we reversing roles now?” Christie’s voice rose an octave, “I’ll eat all the noodles, momma, just like a good girl!”
I snorted a laugh.
“You’re right,” she said, “That’s too weird.”
Christie opened her mouth, and I fed her another bite.
“What. The. Fuck‽”
My blood ran cold as a third voice entered the room. I dropped the fork and jumped out of my chair.
Christie stood up more slowly, tugging down the sweater that was riding up her belly. “Stacy, you’re back…”
“Class got out early. What the hell is going on here?”
I tried to intervene, “Calm down, Stacy; we were just—“
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She screamed. “I heard your little dirty talk! Are you… are you two fucking??”
“Watch your mouth, young lady!” Christie snapped.
I felt like I was back home, caught in the crossfire of countless family blowups. Except this time, it was my fault. “Stacy, let me explain…”
“I don’t want to hear a thing from you! You were supposed to be my friend! How long… how many…” Stacy’s eyes darted around the room. Her voice quieted, and she stared at nothing. “All those times you said you were studying… you were coming over here… to sleep with my mom‽” By the end, she was nearly shouting again.
“I wanted to tell you, but I…” I realized there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t sound pathetic. “I didn’t know how.”
“You know what? Don’t.”
“Stacy…” Christie pleaded.
“No! I don’t… I just… I can’t.” Shaking her head as she spiraled, Stacy picked up her bag from the floor and stalked out of the kitchen. A few moments later, we heard her bedroom door slam.
Christie’s hand touched mine, and I met her eyes. “I think… I think you’d better go.”
I nodded, my whole body trembling.
“I’ll call you later?” She said.
“Okay.”
I spent the whole drive back to campus replaying the blow-up in my mind. How could I have lied to her for so long, making her find out like that? How could I possibly make things right? I couldn’t lose Christie, but how could Stacy ever forgive me?
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
