A year of running around after me had done wonders for mom's figure and fitness - waiting on me hand and foot was as good as any workout or exercise regime.
She'd lost weight; any excess fat, any jiggle in her arms or thighs, any softness about her belly, it was all gone. Mom had never been anything more than slightly soft, only really having the little bit of thickness that came with being a parent, but looking after me toned mom up, turning her into a right little hardbody , slender and strong. Over time her waist became narrower, her ass grew tighter and her middle had turned smoothly concave.
In the past few months Mom had even started to gain muscle from the huge amount of work she was doing making food, hauling it about the house, and meeting my ever-increasing needs. She really began to bulk up when I began demanding assistance moving my fat ass - helping me up, washing me, even feeding me by hand; she did everything for me, and all that showed in her toned biceps and muscular thighs.
I, on the other hand grew huge, flabby, and soft, and had become so indulgently lazy and pathetically weak that anything more strenuous than eating caused my heart to pound like I’d run a marathon. And I loved it. I loved how staggeringly unfit I had become.
As I steadily grew fatter and more out of shape I found any desire I had to do much other than eat, sleep and watch TV had pretty much dried up – this house was my world now, the couch my throne, and I was king, wanting for nothing. Well, almost nothing.
As the year wore on I started finding Mom more and more attractive. Spending so much time with her, I began to notice how pretty she actually was – now that she wasn’t stern and scowling all the time she actually looked very nice. As the year had progressed and she grew both fitter and more loving, I noticed it more and more. It wasn’t just that mom had gotten hot - the contrast between us, me: weak, flabby and helplessly obese, her: lean, lithe and muscular, it was deliciously erotic. I wanted more, and these days I was never denied more. Wish-ring in pudgy hand, I set to work getting exactly what I wanted.
I’d noticed her assets flattening as she lost weight, but a quick wish took care of that – mom’s weight loss no longer affected her tits, and after a month I had them start to grow. Round and perky, her supple breasts and sweet little ass slowly swelled. They grew, but unlike my own bulging assets, soft with lard and starting to sag, hers were perfectly formed, firm and juicy, filling out the revealing bikinis, tank tops, hot pants and tube tops that had become her entire wardrobe.
In the past year Mom had developed from being my pretty but plain mother, slightly soft around the middle and critical of my habits, to become a gorgeous, generous playboy bunny, a lithe, lean feeding machine and bona-fide MILF.
This was the vision of loveliness that appeared in my doorway, pushing before her a trolley creaking under the weight of my enormous breakfast feast.
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