AUA: Ask her to dye her hair blonde and pick up some tight clothes
From Create Your Own Story
You reply that you want your mother to dye her hair blonde and pick up some tight clothes on the way home. She is not impressed.
Mom:
I can't believe you
Mom:
I'm your mother!!
Mom:
Why are you making me do all of this?
Mom:
Do you think it will make me want to fuck you?
You're caught off-guard by her blunt defensiveness once again, and you begin to wonder if you've truly gone too far.
You:
you don't have to. i love you mom... your beautiful. i just want to look at you
Another pause.
Mom:
That's... Very sweet honey. This is so much harder than it was with your father
Mom:
I'm going into surgery now. And buddy, I'll do what you asked... Just please, no more pushing
Mom:
My heart can't take anymore
The pangs of guilt return after your mother stops texting you, and they remain with you for the next few hours until your mother finally texts you again in the late afternoon.
Mom:
...I kind of like them
You blink as you read the text, your hours of solitude numbing your mind.
You:
like what?
She answers in picture form; specifically, a mirror-selfie in what looks to be a fitting room. She's wearing a solid pink slip of a cocktail dress that is FAR too tight, her curvy form nearly popping the seams - but nowhere more aggregiously than her enormous bustline, the areolas of her fat, fake M-cups just barely poking out from the top of the dress.
She's also already blonde, and sporting pink-painted lips and thick eyeshadow. It dawns on you that her text was probably about her gorgeous new tits.
Mom:
Do you like looking at mommy now?
You:
yes!! pink is good
You:
get panties and high heels too plz
Mom:
Honey, what did I say about pushing...
You:
pleeeeeeaaasseeee
Mom:
...Fine. But this is all just for looking, okay?
Mom:
You can't touch me like the girls you're trying to make me look like.
You:
okay
She arrives home only an hour or so after you send your last text, coming through the front door with numerous shopping bags before dropping them unceremoniously in the foyer.
You come to the door to meet her, and are met with the true extent of her transformation for the first time.
Her hair is blonde now, left loose and flowing down to her mid-back. The new hair color compliments her blue eyes, as well as the pink lipstick and nailpolish that gleams in the light of the hallway.
But most attention-grabbing of all is the combination of her top - a too-tight pink baby tee with "S L U T" inscribed across the bustline - and a pair of mammoth tits straining the fabric so tightly that the letters seem to distort with her every move. Her lower body is adorned in tight, form-fitting jeans.
"I got a little carried away..." she admits with a blush, kicking off her shoes and smirking as she notices your expression, "But I thought you'd like it. You just want to pretend mommy's a little slutty, right?"
You nod, figuring it wouldn't be wise to lay out your full intentions. She seems satisfied with your response.
"I thought so. I don't mind wearing things like this around the house I suppose... Even acting for you a bit, sometimes!" she says with wink and a slight giggle, giving her clothed breasts a quick squeeze, "But just until you can find yourself a girlfriend, alright mister? Things with mom go no further than this."
You don't nod this time, trying to play it off as if you're beguiled by her newly-swollen mounds. After enough of a pause she simply rolls her eyes and changes the subject.
"Want me to cook you some dinner, buddy?" she asks.
