“Mike, baby, don’t miss our exit!”
Mike sighs and takes the exit. He wasn’t about to miss it, but his mom likes to be in control. She’s been asleep for the last hour and he’s been up since 4:00 am, first packing and then driving the van all the way up to Capital City for the BBW Bash. Every year the Bash draws a huge crowd of huge women and people who want to hook up with or sell things to them.
Mike’s mom is all three of those. She’s been a vendor at the Bash for ages and the stories of her sexual escapades are the stuff of legend—and Mike knows firsthand how true they are. He’s been her unpaid assistant since he was 13, and he’s walked in on her in the act with men, women, nonbinary people, and even some kids. He’s also tried to sleep (or pretended to sleep) while she’s fucked someone in the next bed over. And truth be told, if she weren’t his mom and if he weren’t so bone-tired at the end of each day, he’d probably be into it and willing to join.
Mike isn’t normally attracted to fat women, but his years as mom’s “helper” at the Bash haven’t given him much choice. Ever since his first day working his mom’s booth, her customers have aggressively flirted with, hit on, and felt him up. When his mom noticed, she started charging them, and before his first day was done she sent him up to a 50-year-old, 600-pound woman’s room as a gift for spending $13,000 on a custom order.
Mike’s mom pats and squeezes his thigh. Her hand lingers on his leg and he tries his best to focus on the road as she snakes her hand into his lap and teases his balls through his shorts. His dick betrays him and gets erect, which his mom definitely approves of.
“That’s my boy,” she says. “You’ve been so quiet all week, I was starting to think you didn’t want to come.”
He didn’t. He doesn’t. But Mike just says, “I guess it’s, um, stage fright.” Maybe his mom believes him, probably not, but it doesn’t really matter. He takes a deep breath as, sure enough, she unzips his shorts and starts to play with his dick directly.
“I’m driving, mom!” he says. If she hears him, she doesn’t care.
Mike and his mom have never had sex, and he still isn’t sure why. He knows she’s got no qualms about sleeping with people his age or younger, and she’s got even less qualms about him having sex. Or even watching him have sex. In the past she’s “volunteered” him for “demonstrations” on the main stage—which usually means he gets strapped down and sat on, strangled, smothered, and pegged by one of her friends. Last year she even sat on his face to show how much her “big strong young man” could take. This year she’s been teasing him about a “special event” at closing night—a full week from now—to properly send him off before he starts his senior year.
“Okay, mom. Mom? Mom! We’re here!” Mike says, willing himself not to come as his mom jerks him off. He’s managed to power through, find the hotel, and park in their covered parking spot despite his mom’s best efforts.
“Good boy,” she says. With a grunt, she tugs his shorts and shirt completely off over his objections. “Oh hush, you haven’t worn anything here in four years. It’s good for business.”
Mike resists the urge to protest that he doesn’t like being the “business.” He sputters a weak rebuttal, but buckles under his mom’s pressure and wordlessly starts unloading the van while she checks in and goes to meet her latest hookup in their suite.
What happens next as Mike thanklessly unloads his mom's fetish gear from the van and sets up the vendor booth--all while not wearing a stitch of clothes?
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