son's toys

My name is Alana, and I'm a 36-year-old widow who has lived a quiet life in the Los Angeles mountains since my husband passed away. But I also have another identity—a sexy, promiscuous bitch, my son's human toy. But I wasn't always like this; the change started slowly but quickly, ever since that damn,
inexplicable "daydreaming"... === ... I was completely bewildered: what did he mean by "special person"?
After Jeff moved away, I lived a quiet life alone in my Los Angeles villa. My beloved husband had left me three years ago in an industrial accident. With the help of a kind lawyer, I received a large sum of money in compensation and retired after emerging from the shadow of that tragedy.
I passed the time by running a gym with my girlfriends and attending local clubs. Although I occasionally met some decent men, I felt absolutely no interest in them. I had long since come to terms with it—I became pregnant with Jeff at seventeen, and from then on, I could only dedicate myself to my husband and my son. As the saying goes, "Why go to California to buy meat?" I didn't necessarily need a man's company to live a good life. In short,
I was generally satisfied with my current life, although I couldn't help feeling lonely at times.
I remember the month Jeff had just moved to campus. I couldn't help but call his dorm, but he never answered.
His roommate told me that he was doing some very intense, mysterious chemical research and rarely stayed in his dorm.
I believed them—my Jeff has always been a diligent and hardworking young man… but at least he should have called me back!
Finally, a month later, I received a call from Jeff. He said his research was progressing well and suggested we meet up at his home to chat about our recent experiences at university. I readily agreed and arranged to meet on Wednesday afternoon.
That day, I wore my usual loose t-shirt and jeans, no makeup, my dry hair drooping down my neck, making me look like a woman from a slum. I anxiously waited for Jeff to come home, but he was late. When I saw him walk in, I couldn't wait to give him a hug. Then we went into the kitchen, made coffee, and started chatting.
Jeff told me about his dorm, his friends, and some eccentric professors. Because I hadn't been to university, these things didn't appeal to me much, but Jeff seemed very interested and talked on and on. I gazed at his earnest expression, a pang of heartache striking my son's thinness and gaunt skin—the result of his month-long dedication to research in the lab. Yet, I was also comforted to see him mature, more masculine. These thoughts flashed through my mind, but I quickly dismissed them—the coffee was ready, and I placed it before Jeff, continuing our conversation.
"Mom," Jeff said, "you look…a little tired?"
I had been busy managing some club affairs lately, and was indeed a bit exhausted, but I certainly didn't consider the club my true concern.
"Here, let me add a little of this to your coffee; it'll definitely energize you."
Jeff pulled out a small packet and poured some shimmering, sugar-like powder into my coffee.
"What's this?" I took a small sip.
"Oh, it's just some of our department's latest sugar substitute research. It's not patented yet, but it has all the advantages of sugar, and no side effects. I bet you'll love it."
I smiled nonchalantly and continued drinking my coffee. We talked for a long time, and finally I told Jeff that even if he couldn't go home, he should at least return my calls. He smiled brightly and assured me he would.
Looking at Jeff's sunny smile, my consciousness gradually blurred, and I began my first "daydream." Afterwards, I asked Jeff what had happened, but he assured me everything was normal.
The feeling of "daydreaming" was like a dream woven from flashbacks of memories. In the dream, I was carefree and felt unusually relaxed, so much so that I couldn't remember what happened after that conversation, including when Jeff left and what I did in the three hours after he left. I could only vaguely remember a voice that said it was my "friend," a "very special and important friend." I didn't know what this voice meant, or where it came from. It even made me feel a little uneasy, but in the end, I still listened to it as if it were the words of "my best friend."
I tried to recall what "my friend" had said to me, but could only remember fragments: "Friend... hot... lustful... now... you've become... completely... a slut... even sexier." These scattered words had no real meaning, only a vague suggestion—I wanted to banish them from my mind, perhaps I was too lonely, and it was all just my imagination.
That night, I made an appointment with Gina at Foxy to get my hair done. She hadn't done my hair before, but the hairstyle she'd given Cheryl was quite nice, both in shape and color. I looked down at my own messy hair falling over my chest—it was dry, yellow, and badly misshapen. I wanted to pursue something more beautiful, something more trendy, something more sexy… Jeff's visits gradually became a routine, and two afternoons later, we were chatting over coffee in the kitchen again, and he once again gave me some sugar substitutes. I poured some into my coffee and savored them—they did give me extra energy, and I was starting to like them.
During our chat, Jeff commented on my new hairstyle, saying the layered waves complemented my fair skin perfectly, making me look much younger, and he really liked it.
I was overjoyed: Gina had truly accomplished a magnificent feat! I remember spending a full fifteen minutes admiring myself in the mirror after returning from Fussex that day—I hadn't looked this good in years, and the new hairstyle had dramatically improved my appearance!
Jeff told me he would be back this weekend and urged me to stay in touch so we wouldn't miss each other too much due to the distance. He had practically uttered everything I was thinking! This concern from my son warmed my heart.
I kissed Jeff happily on the cheek and smiled, "I'll be waiting for you at home on Sunday afternoon, be sure to come back on time..."
Before I could finish, I drifted off again, and "my friend's" voice rang out once more. I couldn't remember exactly what it said, only that it was a sexy male voice, and it made me feel comfortable and relaxed, eager to hear more. When I awoke from my long reverie, fragments of that magnetic voice still echoed in my mind: "Thirsty...glamorous...sexy...now...bitch...hairstyle...wet cunt..."
I absolutely cannot let "thirsty, wet" happen to me! Perhaps I should see my personal doctor, Dr. Boykin. It must be some kind of diet or some strange allergy affecting my health; I probably need some treatment. I left Dr. Boykin a message, telling him about my recent strange symptoms. Relieved, I called Jane again and arranged to go to the nail salon for a manicure the next day.
Returning from the nail salon, I was ecstatic about my newly styled, exquisite nails. A small, one-inch patch adorned with alluring blue and gold designs made me look like a vixen! After admiring them for a while, I began sorting through my shopping bags, categorizing the jewelry Jane and I had bought at the salon. These included bracelets and anklets, necklaces, earrings, rings, and even a pair of anklets—all solid gold! I couldn't resist putting the anklet on my left leg and trying on rings on every finger. These gold rings perfectly complemented my beautiful nails!
Satisfied, I left the three large boxes of newly purchased jewelry, then casually tossed the $3430 receipt into the trash can. I had clearly realized that I undoubtedly needed to spend more money to make myself look more glamorous.
Gina and Jane both agreed.
Sunday arrived, and Jeff showed up as planned. Looking at his tall figure, his strong physique, and the chest and biceps muscles that his linen shirt couldn't hide, I felt incredibly proud to be his mother! He looked a little tired, though, and I asked him with concern if he'd been up late researching again. He just smiled nonchalantly, "A little bit, making that 'sugar' is a bit troublesome."
I felt incredibly sweet. 'Jeff is working so hard to make me more 'sugar'!' With a contented smile, I poured the 'sugar' into my coffee and drank it. It worked its magic again; my brain was cleansed by a sweet energy, and everything around me seemed so beautiful. I couldn't even imagine how I had lived just a few weeks ago without 'sugar'!
I looked at Jeff greedily, hoping for more of that glittering 'sugar.' He just smiled and said he didn't have much either, but he would share as much as he could with me. I was overjoyed! My good son always thinks of sharing the best with me! This meant I would get even more 'sugar' in the future!
We sat by the outdoor pool, sunbathing. Jeff made me a gin and tonic, then took off his shirt and relaxed in the sun. His chest muscles were so defined, so perfect. That sweet energy surged through me, it felt so wonderful. But before I could savor it, I drifted off again.
I couldn't remember what happened that afternoon, couldn't remember when Jeff left. I only remembered my friend and his soothing, captivating voice, those voices seemed to be rooted in my mind, immersing me in them: "Slut...love...clothes...desire...cock...delicious..."
Fortunately, those voices didn't have too much of an effect on me, except that I masturbated that night, a frenzied masturbation, I orgasmed continuously for two hours in that lonely night. I had never done this before, but that sweet energy within me completely controlled me, making my newly manicured nails unable to leave my swollen clitoris. I stroked it, kneaded it, pinched it, I loved it so much!
That night, I slept more soundly than ever before.
I desperately needed a deep sleep because for the next two days I was going to start cleaning out my closet—I hated how it looked: old vests, sloppy shirts, baggy jeans, sneakers. Good heavens, all men's clothes! I couldn't believe I'd ever worn them! Without
hesitation, I gathered them all together and drove straight to the welfare store, where the clerks couldn't believe I'd donated so many clothes at once. I left without looking back; I didn't want to see them a second time.
Then I headed straight to the fashion district, browsing through almost every high-end shoe store and women's boutique. That afternoon and the entire following day, all I did was shop, shop, and shop.
Because I bought so many new clothes, I ended up with a huge wardrobe. I started putting away my high-heeled sandals and knee-high boots from the bottom left corner—but I loved those red designer knee-high boots so much that it took a lot of courage to put them in. I counted them; there were 17 pairs of high heels in total. Each pair was so striking in color and so revealing in style, making me exude endless sexiness and wantonness. Absolutely gorgeous! I even felt that 17 pairs weren't enough for something so beautiful.
Next were the skirts and trousers, neatly arranged above the boots: hot pants, mini-skirts, leather leggings, sheer ladylike skirts, leopard-print fur mini-skirts, high-slit cheongsams… black, gold, red, purple, bright yellow, pink, indigo—they looked like a hot, dazzling rainbow!
At the very top of the wardrobe were outerwear: tight vests, satin shirts, silk blouses, fur coats… all genuine leather, form-fitting, each reflecting a glossy sheen. This was exactly what I'd always wanted! Now I'd finally collected them all into my wardrobe, and it was almost overflowing.
Finally, having finished organizing all the clothes, I couldn't help but stand in front of the wardrobe and admire my work. This wardrobe looked absolutely stunning and sexy! The thought of having a wardrobe in my bedroom that perfectly suited my needs and could satisfy them at any time overwhelmed me with intense satisfaction and pleasure. I jumped onto the bed, quickly stripped off my miniskirt and thong, stared at my wanton clothes, the closet overflowing with prostitute attire, and began to masturbate frantically until I was exhausted.
When I woke up the next day, that sweet energy seemed to have vanished from my body, and I felt incredibly empty—I needed it! I needed my "sugar"! Although I didn't want to admit it, I really started to miss "my friend," missed his addictive voice, missed the unprecedented pleasure he gave me when I was "out of focus," accompanied by the "sugar."
I called Jeff's dorm room immediately, but he didn't answer, so I left a message on his answering machine, hoping he would reply as soon as possible. I wandered around restlessly, drank countless cups of coffee, but it didn't help at all.
The sun was shining brightly outside; it was a beautiful day, but I was confined indoors, tormented by the craving for "sugar." My legs were constantly wet, my swollen labia repeatedly trying to burst from my rock-solid silk panties.
I sat on the kitchen bench, legs spread, sipping black coffee and massaging my labia, but it did nothing to lessen my craving for "sugar."
"Jeff! Come on, come home! You have to come home today! You have to bring 'sugar'!" That was the only thought in my mind. I even ridiculously thought that when I focused all my attention on that thought, Jeff could hear my desperate cries.
I spent most of the morning masturbating, then changing my clothes, stained with my own fluids, and dressing up.
Now I stood in front of the mirror, my reflection a figure completely covered in a tight leather outfit and gold high heels, looking utterly wanton! I couldn't possibly show my face like this! And I could sense that today, tomorrow, and forever, I would always look like that slutty woman in the mirror—it was just a woman's intuition.
I started aimlessly playing with my hair, curling and straightening it, and finally, I lit a cigarette—I hadn't smoked in five years, but when I was paying yesterday, this Virginia cigarette caught my eye, and my lungs desperately needed it! So I bought five packs in one go, even doubting whether that would be enough for my intense craving.
I wonder if Jeff will be angry when he finds out I've started smoking… Come to think of it, he's quite pleased with my new hairstyle and new nails, and he'll definitely notice my new clothes too. Even the convenience store clerk noticed yesterday! I noticed they kept staring at my plump buttocks encased in my miniskirt, and their undisguised gazes made my labia instantly wet my thong!
But Jeff certainly wouldn't look at me with such lewd eyes. He's my beloved son and best friend, bringing me those incredibly sweet "candies" every two days. I considered whether I should compensate him in some way; those "candies" tasted fucking amazing! They must have taken Jeff a lot of effort. I really couldn't ask him for those "candies" for nothing anymore, even though my brain and labia were now madly in love with them… Thank goodness, Jeff finally appeared in the evening! When I saw his car parked on the side of the road, I was like a drowning person seeing driftwood, rushing to the door and kissing his cheek deeply, pulling him into the kitchen and making coffee.
Jeff said I looked gorgeous, and my face flushed red: Oh my god! Was he serious? I looked like an expensive prostitute; what could be worse than me? And I absolutely loved this damn outfit!
But Jeff didn't know what I was thinking… Maybe, he did? Know that I was such a slut who loved leather? Actually, I really hoped he would like me like this, hoped he would provide me with an endless supply of "sugar"... The coffee was ready, and just as I was about to take my first sip, Jeff knowingly took out my favorite "sugar" from his bag and added it to my coffee. I couldn't wait to drink the whole cup of piping hot coffee. I hope my crazy actions didn't scare Jeff... I slumped back on the bench, ecstatic, that sweet energy burning within me again, a heavenly pleasure quickly engulfing my brain. In that lingering, blissful experience, I "dazed"... My mind went blank, leaving only that familiar voice, the voice of "my friend." Oh God! My friend whom I've missed day and night, my trusted friend, thank God, he finally appeared! He whispered to me, gently comforting me: "Sexy...toy...slut...bitch...dazzling...big bed...sucking..."
As before, those words didn't bother me. I just floated obediently in that intense pleasure, that comfortable, intense, trembling sense of control… The next morning, I called Jeff's dorm, and thank goodness, he answered!
“Honey,” I said, “thank you for coming yesterday and spending a wonderful afternoon with me.”
“It’s nothing, Alana,” Jeff never used to call me by my first name, but hearing him call me that just now felt perfectly natural.
“Jeff,” I asked, “what should I wear today?” I don't know why I asked him that, but it felt like I should… “What kind of outfit would make you feel better?” he asked.
I answered instinctively, “I want to just wear that pink fluorescent thong!”
That tattered thong was the one I bought a few days ago. Jeff would never expect me to like it. I even doubted whether he would recognize his mother when he saw that vulgar, revealing bitch by the pool.
"Thong? To accentuate your enormous breasts, Alana?"
That was a perfect question. I could finally announce to Jeff the fact I was incredibly proud of: my breasts had grown! They were now a pair of round, plump melons—I had a decent chest shape before, but only now had they truly grown into "enormous breasts."
"Yes," I couldn't help pinching my nipples, "Ah…I have a pair of lonely enormous breasts here! Why…why didn't you give me a thorough check-up before I found a gigolo to take care of…them?"
"So…you found a gigolo, Alana?" he asked.
I lay on the bed, my labia burning. I realized I truly needed a real man—my wet, horny hole was gaping, screaming for a man's big cock to satisfy it.
I felt an overwhelming emptiness, and my voice became hoarse: "No, Jeff, I didn't go looking for other men... but I really need a man's penis... ah... a penis that belongs only to me... mmm... don't you think so?"
I curled up on the bed like a snake, my fingers deeply inserted into my vagina beneath the transparent bathrobe. I kept moaning until I could barely hear Jeff's voice, but when he asked, "Alana, do you want some 'candy' today?" those few words shot through my mind like a rocket, instantly sending me to orgasm. With a sharp groan, my brain was torn to shreds by pleasure, but my body slumped off the edge of the bed like a lead weight, too exhausted to move.
I lay exhausted on the edge of the bed, panting heavily, and finally, with trembling hands, picked up the phone that had fallen to the side: "Will you... come over today?"
"Trust me, Alana," Jeff said. "I'll be there."
"Oh... thank God! Darling, there's no better news than this!" "
My vagina was wet again, and desire once more took over my mind.
I masturbated numbly like a robot, but my already exhausted body didn't respond with pleasure.
I saw myself in the mirror: a striking yet vulgar hairstyle, black makeup residue streaming down my left cheek with sweat, and my newly bought transparent bathrobe torn open. Lost and panting against the bed, I looked at the perpetually wanton prostitute in the mirror and suddenly felt that nothing else mattered, as long as I had 'sweetness'... Jeff didn't say when he'd be back, but I figured it would be in the evening, so I masturbated again... maybe an hour? Longing for that sacred 'sweetness,' I took a long, comfortable hot bath, then got ready.
I dried my hair, put on heavy makeup, and slipped on that vulgar pink fluorescent thong. The moment it brushed against my labia, I couldn't help but groan. I chained gold anklets, and the necklace around my neck was buried deep in my cleavage."
I stood in front of the mirror, admiring my reflection: my breasts were now large and firm, flaunting their lewdness like two silicone monsters. This wanton feeling almost overwhelmed me; I used almost all my willpower to resist pinching my sensitive nipples. I lit a cigarette and, like a seasoned prostitute, swayed my hips lazily as I walked towards the sapphire-blue swimming pool outside.
I lay on a poolside lounge chair, the sunlight greedily caressing my wanton breasts—it felt wonderful! But not good enough; I needed some "sweetness." My vagina was experiencing waves of incurable emptiness.
'Why doesn't anyone fuck me?!' '
Why doesn't anyone fill my hole down there?!'
I couldn't understand! A woman like me deserves to be fucked constantly. I may look like a stupid bitch, but I'm not stupid. I was acutely aware that I needed a man. At the very least, I should buy a vibrator—a young, thick, long, purple vibrator with a huge glans, always mischievously moving. It would surely find its eternal home in my empty, wet pussy.
Every night, every damned night, I was tormented by emptiness. Whoever, whenever, wherever, come and fuck me! A whore like me was born to be fucked, created to be fucked! I need a thick, long cock to fuck me hard every night, to rape me relentlessly, to ravage me violently… Ah, how wonderful that would feel—to have a big cock of my own, yes, only mine, the me who is even more despicable than a prostitute… Emptiness was driving me crazy. I couldn't go on like this. I needed to distract myself. I picked up a magazine, closed my eyes, and tried to fall asleep, but it was no use—I had changed. My life had been rewritten. Everything was different now; a whole new world unfolded before me: a constantly throbbing, horny pussy, alluring long nails, lewd high heels, cigarettes, and those evening "daydreams." My world was now consumed by "sugar" and lust. My God! What a wonderful, magical world!
I lay there quietly, the California sunlight shining on me, this slut begging to be fucked, this whore craving a cock, this girl obsessed with "sugar"... and all I could do was desperately wait for Jeff to bring me everything I needed... When Jeff arrived, I acted like a thirsty whore—quickly handing my son the already brewed coffee, begging him for some "sugar." Jeff watched my foolish drool dripping onto my exposed breasts, smiled with satisfaction, and sprinkled the "sugar" into the coffee in front of him. Without a doubt, I drank it all down. Soon, that sweet feeling, just like before, overwhelmed me—it felt so good! It really felt so good! My life became wonderful again... Jeff pulled me to the poolside, the afterglow of the setting sun piercing through my blank mind, shining into my heart. The shimmering reflection in the pool reminded me of my soaking wet thong, and my swollen breasts swayed with the cool breeze on the lounge chair.
I smiled happily; nothing in the world made me happier than being with Jeff… Everything beautiful before me slowly solidified into eternity. The world became the place I belonged, the place where I could find all my satisfaction, a place where I could bask in the sun with my big breasts, a place where a thirsty slut like me could be fucked every day… In that wonderful moment, I “dazed”, but at that moment I no longer had any worries about “dazed”. I only felt relaxed and expectant—“my friend” was undoubtedly a friend I could truly trust. I so looked forward to hearing his voice; it was his words that opened up a new life for me. He comforted my helplessness, helped me find my lost memories, and taught me secrets I could never know. He whispered words to me, those powerful words inspired me, enlightened me, and guided me, but unfortunately, I could never remember them all, nor could I string them together into sentences.
Fortunately, my friend's advice hadn't disappeared. It still slept peacefully in my lust-fueled mind, hidden in the cracks of my subconscious. It guided me, taught me, rescued me from the old world, and led me into a brand new one—a world full of magic and sweetness, a paradise for harlots and prostitutes. I, Alena, a hot prostitute, a hot bitch, a human toy, heeded my friend's final advice.
"Son's toy...semen...forever...prostitute...Jeff...Jeff...Jeff's cock..."
Awakening, I felt confused and exhausted. The smooth texture of the satin sheets made me want to sleep a little longer. But a cool sensation spread between my legs, extending to my groin. Was it the vaginal fluid left from my "daydreaming"? My hand moved downwards, and everywhere was a sticky, slippery fluid, overflowing from my labia and anus… I sat up and found my bed practically a bathtub overflowing with white fluid! I dipped my finger in the fluid and examined it closely. Good heavens! It was semen! Tons of semen! It was practically everywhere! My vulva, my legs, my sheets were all covered in semen!
I almost called the police, but I couldn't resist putting the semen on my finger into my mouth. God! It was so delicious! I excitedly scraped every last drop of semen I could see into my mouth and swallowed it without hesitation.
This semen was like a drug, addictive; I licked it again and again. The alluring aroma made my nipples hard and my labia engorged with blood, almost bursting.
I started masturbating while licking the semen, my hands seemingly glued to my vagina, unable to leave.
Waves of intense pleasure cleared my mind; all I could do was thank God: This feels so good! It was fucking amazing!
But I was still confused. When I was "out of it," anyone could fuck me. I looked like a bitch, and I acted like a prostitute. Everyone could come in and fuck me at that moment, and I wouldn't refuse.
But soon, another possibility surfaced in my mind: Jeff… he could be Jeff! Could it be that he took advantage of me when I was "out of it"? Was this the first time? Or did he fuck me every time I was "out of it"?
My brain broke down. I started sobbing, and then I cried uncontrollably. But just as I felt terrified and desperate, an irresistible warm current swept over my body and mind. It flowed over my legs, gathered in my lower abdomen, my groin started to heat up, my hips twisted involuntarily, and my labia became wildly wet. Finally, my vagina became a flint and steel, yearning for illicit lust.
I screamed, yelled, and desperately pounded my labia, trying to smash them, trying to end this excruciating pain.
My hands, however, began to instinctively thrust in and out of my vagina like a female beast… Then I understood everything, what I had become, what I was now, what I would become in the future, what brought me joy and satisfaction, what made my labia so hot, what meant everything to this lowly sex slave.
'I am Jeff's toy!'
Yes, that was the answer. I had known it all along, and never doubted it. Perhaps a month ago I hadn't realized it, but now, I had changed. Now I am a complete woman, a real woman, wealthy, spoiled, with a pair of lewd, large breasts and a perpetually horny vagina. And as Jeff's human toy, my master's son would provide me with a constant stream of sacred "sugar"—what could be happier than that?
My former friends had changed too; these wealthy whores had abandoned me. The reason was that their husbands always drooled and glared at me when they saw me. They continued their usual practice, abandoning me, wanting me as far away from their circle as possible.
Only Gina and Jane remain my best friends. We occasionally go shopping together, chatting about hairstyles, nails, and fashion. I even gave Gina some "candy," and interestingly, she not only styled my hair for free for a few days but also seemed to have fallen for me, her eyes always radiating endless lust.
However, beautiful Gina, there's absolutely no way I could ever love you; I can only apologize for that. Because I am now my master's son's toy, everything I am belongs to my Jeff, to my son with his well-developed pectoral muscles, whom I will always love, to that magical "candy" and that young, thick penis.
I am completely possessed by my master Jeff and his big penis.
My master Jeff has already moved back in with me. Of course, he occasionally goes to university to ensure he graduates smoothly. And with my master Jeff's talent and greatness, once he enters society, he will surely find a good job, a job not far from his new yet eternal home, not far from his lewd yet loyal toy mother.
Then, I can see Jeff every day and become his human toy at any time. I can already see that in the days to come, I will grovel before my master's son's young and alluring body, awaiting his lashing of his filthy slave with his thick, powerful, and inexhaustible scepter.
I eagerly await the start of that life! But for now, let me dress properly and prepare to welcome my master's son tonight.
[The End]

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