Their birch-bark canoe cut through the steady currents of the Chumanche river, the bending sunlight sending rainbow patterns through those churning waters. They were on their way out to the salmon weir, an imposing structure their tribe must reconstruct every summer as the spring freshets carry it away - but its worth it, for how it keeps their larders so stocked with fish. Such was the profit of the Chumanche river that members of the Kwanaki wolf pack were known for being the chubbiest in the region.


But Cerlinn didn’t fit in with the stereotype in the slightest. He was a scrawny boy, skinny and not even five feet tall, with pale fur that made him look sickly compared to the slick silver fur of his packmates. He felt jealous of Galin, the older man who paddled their canoe. He was tall and muscular, but with a bit of paunch to display his status - everything a proper wolf was supposed to be.


Galin noticed his companion’s distress in his expression. “What’s the matter, little buddy? You nervous for your ceremony?” He gave a reassuring smile. “Ah, every boy is. But it’s really nothing to be afraid of. I mean, think about it. All your ancestors, thousands of men before you, went through it and all came out okay. At least we’re not like those Hyalcalinians down the river - you should see what those boys have to go through…”


The man leaned back, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Besides, I’ll be honest here… your mother is a real bombshell of a woman. I swear, you’re the luckiest boy in this entire village. Any of the other men would do anything to-“ He paused, catching himself. “Uh… though, I guess that’s probably not what you want to hear right now…”


Cerlinn flashed him an annoyed look, as if to say, you think? Then he sighed morosely. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to disappoint her,” he confessed, sat with his chin resting on his knees. “I already feel like she thinks I’m a burden. It always feels like she’s annoyed when I’m around…”


Galin laughed. “You must be joking! She’s a thousand times more affectionate with you than she is with anyone else on this planet! You should see the way she treats me.” He tugged his collar at the thought. “Sometimes she even smiles around you! I must admit, I didn’t believe it when I first saw it. I didn’t even know it was possible.”


Cerlinn didn’t seem convinced, so Galin gave him a pat on the back. “Listen. You ever heard of a ‘love language’? Well, everybody’s got their own, and they’re all different from everybody else’s,” he explained. “She loves you just as much as any proper mother does. She just expresses it in her own way.”


“Yeah,” Cerlinn replied, more to end the conversation than out of any real understanding.


They spent most of the day collecting fish channeled into the weir by the currents with their dip-nets. All throughout, Cerlinn thought about how this would be his last day spent fishing as a mere boy. After this, he would be a man, and he’d be bringing other boys out here to learn how to catch fish, just as Galin had taught him. 


His anxiety worsened over the day, as if he was drawing nearer and nearer to a precipice from which he will never return. But he had to fake a smile when he returned to his village. Everybody was congratulating him, giving him a clap in the back. One man even lifted him up on his shoulders and paraded him around before the grinning crowd. 


The home village of the Kwanaki pack had a sort of motte and bailey structure. Down in the motte, surrounded by wooden stakes to ward off rival tribes, was the various wigwams and longhouses packmates called home… and upon a massive earthen bailey overlooking it all was the shrine of Mekhar, the man born of the first union. He knew precious little about it, aside from its beauty and opulence, adorned in pottery and jewelry and all painted a holy white upon its perch. Most packmates, aside from the priests, were only allowed up to the shrine during the nights of full moons. Or, as is the case tonight, during manhood rituals.


And there, at the top of those arduous stairs, she waited. “Cerlinn,” she said. “You are late.”


In the cities, where food was plentiful, fatness was considered a sign of overindulgence. In the wilds, where food was scarce, it was a status symbol. And being the alpha female of their entire pack, his mother was nothing if not high in status.


Ceremonial robes adorned her towering figure, all alight with the colors of the finest dyes, and bits of jewelry hung from its various hems and clanked around with her every movement. Patches of her silver fur were dyed permanently blue to resemble symbols of religious significance. All of it left little to the imagination. Her robes offered gratuitous views of her breasts from the side, and from some angles he swore he could see the tiniest hint of her dark brown areolas. Her chubby gut and rear were offered no coverage whatsoever, although at least she had her big, fluffy tail to offer the latter some modesty.


She had her arms crossed, wide hips cocked to one side, and eyes lazily half-lidded in that familiar way felt like they bore daggers into his soul. He had so many conflicting feelings about his mom. Was she really more loving than she let on? And why did the sight of her make her feel so strangely, now? It didn’t used to have any effect on him. Maybe it’s because he had some notion of what they’d be doing in a matter of hours. It left him feeling off-balance and dizzy, like when he was standing on a cliff’s edge.. “Sorry, mom,” he said, staring at the ground before him. “We lost track of time. You know, while fishing.”


“Mhmm.” Her expression was impossible to read. “Regardless, we must get you properly dressed. The rite is starting soon.”


In the back rooms of the shrine, she helped him through the tedious process of adorning himself in robes just as elaborate as her own. All the while, he could hear the villagers filtering into the nave of the building, dread mounting with every pair of footsteps. Panic coursed through him at the thought of performing in front of an audience of that size. He just wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to be a man. But he swallowed his fears, for from the flat look on his mother’s face, he expected that she wouldn’t be able to sympathize.


The ritual, he knew, was supposed to emulate the legend of Ariamh, the first mother, and Mekhar, the first boy to be reborn a man. It was a creation story unique to the Kwanaki tribe, and very sacred to them. To complete her costume, his mother donned a ceremonial mask that covered her face completely, meant to resemble Ariamh. It was said this made things much less awkward for the boy being reborn.


They took their places at either sides of the pulpit as the head priestess played intermediator. “Ik vaet doroaekl klo girr daar klaek klo kva avvat'kot dokaedo kvae'r,” the priestess began in the tongue of the ancestors as they began their ceremonial dance. By the gods, she was beautiful. With the mask, he could almost forget it was his own mother dancing before him. The way she moved with the grace of flowing water, the way those hips swayed with faelike ease, the way those breasts and tummy bobbed from side to side to the beat of some imaginary rhythm. It could not be more the opposite of his stumbling, clumsy, half-remembered moves


For a moment, he could almost convince himself that it was another woman, not the mother that had raised him and given him birth. And then she came closer, and he knew he could recognize the smell of her. That caught his breath in his throat, and he stumbled for a moment before the watching crowd. His mother showed no reaction, but she must be judging him. He was sure of it.


They joined in a waltz, and she was against him, her breasts pushed up almost against his neck, and the air was alive with the scent of her. He bumbled and stumbled, trying his best not to step on her feet as she led him around the stage. It was a good thing she was guiding him now, because being so close to her had caused the entire choreography to fly from his memory.


The storyline progressed. Mekhar began to seethe with envy towards the elegant sorceries of his mistress. Cerlinn hated having to plunge that dagger into his mother’s back, even though it was obviously a crude fake. His mother swooned, stumbling as if imbalanced, before falling backwards somehow with the grace of a feather. He fell to his knees and caught her in his arms, and held her there. She was so heavy in his hands, yet so beautiful, and seemed so vulnerable, so fragile lying limply in his arms. 


This is the part of the act where Mekhar realized the error of his ways. On the priestess’ cue, Cerlinn was meant to pretend to cry. He didn’t have to pretend.


The audience was a little stunned. After seeing Cerlinn bumble his way through the performance so incompetently, it was bizarre to see him suddenly display true acting skills in the third act. It is rare that any boy manage to produce one of those sacred tears which was said to have returned Ariamh to life. But it seemed to please the priestess, who raised her arms behind the duo as her assistant dropped ingredients into a cauldron behind her, creating an explosive purple glow that veiled her in silhouette. “Amh ku, sra daod kosrum orekak!”


The revival scene was always a crowd pleaser. Everybody held their breath as his mother’s eyes slid open, and they both lifted to their feet as if weightless. All the while they held both of eachother’s hands, and locked eyes. Cerlinn wished he could read the expression on her face. Her eyes alone captivated them. An array of little colors over a piercing blue, like the ice of a northern glacier reflecting the aurora borealis above. And then the audience stood, and clapped.


Honestly, Cerlinn had forgotten they were there. So while his mother turned and bowed, he just stood there, confused. What were these weird feelings? What was happening inside him? He almost called it love, but it wasn’t a sort of love anybody should be feeling towards their own mother. 


This was just a ritual. He had to remember that. Just a ritual.


The crowd dispersed almost as quickly as it appeared. They filtered out of the shrine once the applause died down. The play would continue on, but the final act would have no audience. It was just him and his mother. He had to fight the urge to run away, to flee home and just be a boy forever. 


“My son,” she spoke, “why are you afraid?”


He felt off-balance, like he was standing at the very edge of a sheer cliff. His quivering voice betrayed him. “I’m… not sure I’m ready to… be a man.”


She shook her head sternly. “No. It’s not that. Anyone in the village could see that you are ready.” She pointed to herself. “It’s me. You are afraid of me.”


He stammered. That urge to flee rose in his chest. “I…”


“Galin informed me,” she said, and Cerlinn quietly cursed his name. “Come. Sit with me.” She sat her heavy body upon the tiled floor, and pat the spot at her side. He obeyed his mother without question, as he always had, even as the body heat pouring off of her made him uncomfortable.


She seemed to be struggling almost as much as he was. It took her a great force of effort just to speak. “I am… deeply saddened to know that you’ve felt there is such a distance between us.” Her voice was flat as ever, but with this slight quivering edge to it that Cerlinn had not yet heard. “I have always known that I am… different. Since I was a cub, I have had trouble expressing my emotions in the ordinary manner. Even speaking so frankly as this… is an immense struggle for me. Part of why I’m alpha is that people consider it a mark of strength.”


Her words sounded as if she had rehearsed this speech, and each needed to be forced out through tedious labor, as if she was exercising a muscle she’d never used. Cerlinn could tell that she was defying her own nature in opening her heart like this. This may be the only time she’d ever done it. The thought made him feel immensely privileged. “Personally… I consider it a mark of weakness. Especially if it means I have forsook my only child.”


She shifted, and before he knew it was upon him, eyes locked with his, the only part of her face visible through that mask. Still, he could feel the heat of her breath, and the warmth of her as her chubby body hung over him, breasts and belly just inches away from pressing against him. “Intimacy, too, is not my strength. Even in my consort with your father, it was purely a practical arrangement to produce an heir,” she confessed, in that expressionless voice. “But for you, my son… I will try. I will try to prove my love in… a way that you can understand.”


Yet despite how much she struggled with this, the way she moved made it look effortless. How she stood, how she began to undress, it had all that fluidity of her moves earlier, as if she was still dancing, just for him. 


Her bra was the first to go. He didn’t even see her take it off, only noticing once she’d tossed it aside. Her breasts emerged with a bounce, her heavy breasts jiggling together as she rocked and swayed and sashayed. They were so mundane to her, but seemed a whole alien world to him, one he knew nothing about. To show one’s breasts in the village was no taboo, and he had seen no shortage of them, even his mothers. But that had only intensified his burning curiosity over how they’d feel in his hands, or when his hand was pressed against him if he nuzzled against her chest like when he was a babe. Could it be this was the day he’d find the answers to his questions?


The next step was more taboo, and signified that moment they crossed the rubicon, and his mother revealed a part of herself that she otherwise never would’ve shown him on purpose. He’d caught glimpses of it, for it wasn’t like a loin cloth covered much, yet still, it only inflamed his curiosity. When the cloth was tossed away, and her pussy finally came into view, he was enraptured. He wanted to know everything about it. Answer every question he had. How did it work? What did it do? What was it like to have one? What lay on the other side of that inscrutable gulf between his manhood and her womanhood?


Even now, he could barely catch glimpses of it between thighs as thick and laden with muscle as they were fat, beneath the slightly bushier tuft of fluff just above it. As she swayed her hips, she stared at him, as if expectantly. He shivered as he realized he was meant to undress, too.


He knew it was stupid to be embarrassed. As every mom ever has said, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. Yet his heart was pounding in his chest as he slowly pulled down his loincloth, and felt his own fluffy sheath come out fully beneath her gaze. He felt her eyes on it, and thought for sure that she was judging him, silently mocking him for his small size. Instead, she spoke. “As I’m sure you’re aware, in order for us to properly complete the ceremony, you must unsheath yourself.”


He realized that, even with all this arousal coursing through his body, his sheath seemed unimpressed. He started to rub against it, desperately trying to coax his boyhood out of it. It didn’t make sense. Usually he was on a pubescent hair trigger, and just being within ten feet of a pretty girl made him embarrassingly hard. Now the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was dancing naked for him, and it wouldn’t come out? “I’m trying! I just… I can’t seem to…”


“My body… does not please you?” He couldn’t tell, but he thought he heard the faintest glimmer of sadness in that voice.


“No! No, of course it does!” His breath caught for a moment as he realized what he’d just confessed. “I’m just… I’m…”


“Nervous?” She took a knee in front of him, and his heart beat faster at having her bare, plump figure so close to him. “Have no fear, my son. This is something that happens often to boys of your age, or so I am told. Here, those clumsy fumbles will do nothing. Let me see if I can assist you.”


She lifted him to sit upon a nearby platform as if he was lighter than a feather, before sitting on her knees before him and oh gods, she’s looking right at it. The most intimate and private part of him was being thoroughly scrutinized beneath her inquisitive gaze. His heart beat out of his chest, expecting a reaction - maybe a burst of laughter, or a grimace of disgust. But there was none. She just surveyed him expressionlessly like she always did. That was almost worse. It left him wondering if she quietly thought he was too small, or asymmetrical, or somehow wrong down there.


That, and every other cogent thought, fled from his mind the very moment he felt her warm breath billow upon his crotch, and he realized just how close her head had come. He had to fight the instinctive urge to clap his legs together. It took a concentrated effort to leave them apart, to let her get closer until her lips almost brushed against his sheath. And then her tongue flicked out, taking its first few tentative tastes around the rim of his sheath, and he had to grit his teeth and throw his head back to suppress whatever sound was threatening to escape from his throat.


It was clear she had no more of an idea of what she was doing than he did. If it was a question of defending against an attacking enemy pack or hunting down some great beast, she tackled the challenge head-on without complaint; but attempting basic physical intimacy seemed to push her limits. She seemed bemused, almost hesitant as she tested around his sheath with her tongue, lapping over his sensitive balls and running circles around his slit quizzically, trying to use his slight tenses and gasps to figure out what worked for him and what didn’t.


For Cerlinn, this was the most overwhelming thing he’d ever experienced. He’d never felt any touch beyond that of his own hand, but to be treated like this by the woman who had given him birth? It was sending some energy coursing through his muscles, maybe excitement or dread, and that latter anxiety was what prevented his shaft from emerging from its sheath. There it hid stubbornly despite her ministrations. 


Unlike him, she didn’t seem the slightest bit phased by what was happening. If anything, she was treating it like a puzzle to be solved, approaching it like a scientist experimenting in the field of her son’s pleasure. Eventually, she settled for suckling right upon the tip of his shaft, while teasing at it with her rolling tongue. By the gods, he wished more than anything else to finally come unsheathed. He desperately craved feeling these things against his cock proper, and being denied was some form of torture.


Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Every time he began to lose himself in the sensations, he remembered who was providing them, and his mind crashed right back down to the reality of the situation. The sheer anxiety kept his cock tucked in his sheath like a turtle hiding in its shell. She furrowed her brow in bemusement. “I… apologize, my son. I am doing my best to please you, but… I admit, this is not my field of expertise.”

“Y-you don’t have to apologize! You’re… you’re…” He stopped himself before he did it again - admitted how much he wanted this, wanted her. Gods, damn it all! On an almost daily basis he’d sprung a random hard-on at the most inconvenient moments, and yet now, at the critical moment, it refuses to cooperate?


His mother now just looked determined, as if this were one of her missions. He gasped allowed when she lifted her breasts, and with one easy motion, his sheath was completely enveloped in an incredible softness from all sides. He grit his teeth and squirmed in his seat as his breasts settled down upon his lap. They’d always fascinated him from a distance, and now here they were, squished down on either side of his package like a pair of the world’s warmest, fluffiest pillows were being squeezed around it from both sides. A jiggle traveled through her plump breasts as they plopped down heavily upon his lap, so hefty that they left the slightest bruise upon his inner thighs just from their impact.


Yet despite their weight, she was able to lift them with casual ease, grinding them up and down against his crotch as she squeezed them together with her hands, doing whatever she could to provoke out his little soldier. It was the greatest thing he’d ever felt, and yet still, nothing. She pondered this for a while while continuing to squish her breasts upon her twitching son. “Hmmm… an acquaintance of mine once told me of something else you men seem to enjoy. Perhaps that will be the secret?”


Just as he came to yearn for the feeling of her breasts squishing against him all day long, they were separated from him, and he whimpered like a junkie being denied his fix. But he did not go lacking for long. Before he knew it, he was on his back on the ground… only able to behold in awe as his mother deftly took her position above him, only able to see her meaty drumstick thighs and pink slit above him before she gently lowered herself down.


Gods, if he thought that her breasts were heavy, her ass made them look light by comparison! His head would’ve been squished in an instant if she hadn’t been so careful, lowering herself slowly and letting his snout wedge itself into that crack between those cheeks, as if it were a slot designed to hold his face. Of course, her constant physical labor left that crack sweaty, only moreso the deeper one ventured… and since his snout vanished nearly as deep as it could fit, it was coated in her musk and sweat as she settled upon the ground, and those fat cheeks came to rest molded perfectly around his snout, as if they were making a mold.


It was exactly what he needed. Such a shock, such a jolt to his system, that the sensory experience took the reins of his mind and his anxiety and inhibitions finally fled from him. He tensed, and could feel a coldness down below where his sensitive shaft was finally poking free into the open air. And upon him, his mother let out the slightest coo of triumph, seeing her efforts be rewarded at last. “There it is,” she whispered. “Do not be shy. Let it come free. There are no one’s eyes here but mine, and I’ve seen it all before, my child.”


She continued to casually grind her ass down upon his face, mashing him up as far into that crack as he could go, until his head had vanished completely into that darkness. That softness surrounded him on all sides, her sweat filling his nose and making him dizzy. Her plump rear became his world. It was hard to even think straight, much less repress the slow emergence of his cock like a flag being raised. She watched with impartial curiosity as it came fully unsheathed, analyzing its slick pink length, marveling at the fact that she herself had created it.


Just as he thought the suffocating embrace of her ass might lull him into unconsciousness, she rose. She rolled over so that she was over top of him, straddling him, looking down into his eyes with her hands braced on either side of his head. He was breathing that fresh air in deep as he looked up at her, stunned. “The mask… you should take it off.”


She was a bit taken aback by the request. “Why so?”


“It… doesn’t work. I can still tell it’s you,” he explained sheepishly. “Your eyes. Even if it’s just your eyes… I’d recognize them anywhere.” He felt a pang of disgust at himself for how romantic that had sounded. Just a ritual, he had to remind himself. This was all just a ritual.


She thought it over, before sliding free from her mask and tossing it aside. Now there was nothing between him and her; her plump, powerful frame, those heavy, heaving breasts, those vivid eyes. If his anxiety did not still haunt him, he’d have his hands all over her right now, squeezing that dangling belly and groping those pillowy breasts. He shouldn’t be thinking those things. This was just a ritual, an ordeal every boy has to go through, but one he never talks about later. Through some community-wide cognitive dissonance, it just… “doesn’t count.” And yet, it felt like something much deeper.


She lifted herself so that she sat up straight, with only her thick thighs stradling on either side of his waist. He realized with a start how perfectly his hardened cock was lined up with her, as she towered above him. All she would have to do was lower herself down, and…


“How are you feeling?” She asked. “Do you need a moment before we begin? A drink of water?”


He paused. “Before we… begin?”


“Yes. Begin. The… making of love.”


He jumped at that, as if he’d been roused from sleep and only just now realized where he was and just who was on top of him. His eyes flicked between hers, and down below, where his hard cock was lined up so perfectly with her. “What? Already!?” Part of him wanted to crawl out from under her, and the other part wanted her to start bouncing. The two halves colluded to keep him paralyzed. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, build up to it? Aren’t we supposed to - I mean, don’t most adults, when they -”


And all it took to quiet that beating of his heart was for him to gently brush his cheek and shush all those worries away. He couldn’t draw his eyes away from hers, even with those perfect breasts just beneath them. “Shush, my love. There is nothing to be afraid of. I… I know such intimacy can be daunting. I myself can be afraid, you know, even if I don’t know how to show it. Afraid that I won’t be able to express how proud I am of you. Afraid that I won’t be able to prove my love for you.” Her face remained expressionless, but there was the impression of wetness in her eyes. “Would it help soothe you if I sang one of your old favorite songs?”


He only knew what she meant when she began to half-hum, half-sing that old tune, Luya ull e Mudhas. When you spent the first days of your existence being sung a certain lullaby while being held to your mother’s breast, that song works its way into the deepest cracks of your subconscious. Just hearing the words sailing upon the tides of her flowing voice calmed every muscle in his body and brought a smile to his face… even when she lowered herself down upon him.


It happened so quickly, he hardly registered that, oh gods, he was inside her. He’d slipped into her with such absolute ease, perhaps given her sheer size compared to him. And what first stunned him was the heat. It was so much warmer inside her than he’d imagined. Was he going to feel that heat all around his body soon? And the way it squeezed down around him, and the softness and wetness of those walls. It was almost too much for a boy who had only ever known the touch of his own hand before it. He may have been overwhelmed by it, but her singing lured him back into that calming fugue.


With almost robotic regularility, she began to bounce gently upon him, lifting herself slowly before gliding easily down upon the length of his cock. Each time, those heavy breasts would bounce a bit, and he stared transfixed at them, mesmerized into a half-lucid state by the sight. Admiring those pink nipples that poked out from all that fur, he felt the strangest Freudian compulsion to latch onto one of them and just start suckling, just like he had when he was a baby.


He remembered, once when he was younger, being dared by the other youths into jumping off the top of a waterfall into a jungle spring. The real terror had been in the build-up, the growing anticipation; once he’d actually taken the leap, all his fears fled away. Now, he felt something similar. As terrified as he’d been of this day, this moment… now that it was actually happening, now that he’d crossed that threshold, it didn’t seem so bad. They were having sex. Maybe that wasn’t a big deal. Maybe he didn’t have to worry. Maybe he could just enjoy this.


“Are you nearing your finish?” She asked.


It was an innocuous question, but it totally tore him from the tempo of the moment. It sounded cold. Like she reverted to the same emotionless tone she used everyday. it rubbed him the wrong way. “No, I… I mean, why should we rush this?”


She paused. “Oh. I did not mean… I mean, I didn’t want to imply…” She went back to gently bouncing upon him, as if hoping to push the subject from his mind. “You can take your time. Enjoy yourself all day. I did not mean to rush.”


But he couldn’t relax again. He pushed his elbows against the ground to lift his upper half a bit, even though his lower body was kept pinned thoroughly to the ground by her heavy crotch. “No, I mean, just… why does this feel… obligatory?” He asked, letting out something he’d bottled up. “You say you want to prove your love, but… this doesn’t feel natural.”


She stopped bouncing, sensing the moment was changing. “It isn’t… natural, for me.” She bit her lip. “But… I have always been told this was the ultimate expression of love. I wanted to do it for you. As a gesture.”


He sighed, feeling exasperated. She was such an incredible warrior and leader, usually he was in awe of her… but in some things, she was so clueless, he had to lecture her as if he was the parent. “I don’t need you to force some big gesture. I just need… little things, every day. Why can’t you just say ‘I love you’ every morning like the other mothers?” He looked away. “After all this is over, will you just go back to acting so… distant?”


Her expressionless face subtly twitched in a way that, for any other person, would be the equivalent to full-on sobbing. “Oh, my baby,” she said, and laid her heavy body over him like a three hundred pound blanket, belly and breasts squishing around him as she hugged him close. By gods, she was so incredibly warm, heat emanating through all that blubber, almost as warm as his cock which still rested nestled inside of her. It was all he could do to wrap his arms around her and sniffle as he basked in that warmth, and the two became intertwined.


Suddenly, he looked her in the eyes. “Roll over.”


“What?”


He had a look of determination on his face. He would’ve rolled her over himself if he weren’t a feeble twig compared to her. “You’re not just… pampering me like a child. Not anymore,” he said. “I’m supposed to be becoming a man now, right? We have to do this together. C’mon, roll over.” She was so taken aback by his assertiveness that her cheeks flushed, but she obeyed. The immense weight was lifted off from atop him, and soon her fat figure was rested on her back upon the ground, legs spread, eyes locked on him in curiosity of what he’d do.


He faltered for only a moment before he harnessed his courage and climbed atop her. He’d seen this once, a warrior man from the pack rutting his mate with all that vigor and force, and knew he had to do the same. He couldn’t let his mother do this for him out of pity. He had to impress her, do something to earn all that love. He had to be a man.


It was nearly impossible to get a good grip anywhere. She was all soft, his hands sunk into that pudge wherever he laid them. Her tummy was the natural spot, waiting as it was above that pussy, but it was a trap; his hands sunk right into it as if they’d wandered into a patch of quicksand. He settled, eventually, for gripping her by the sides in a place where the layer of fat was less thick. His resolve was already wavering, grasping again just how massive she was next to her. It was like trying to pleasure a mountain.


This time, he was ready for the feeling of press into her. The warmth and wetness still impressed him, but they didn’t steal his breath like they had when she’d first settled herself upon his lap. From here, it was impossible not to watch those jiggles reverberate through her figure as he began humping against her, that tummy bouncing a little bit with every slam of his hips. All the while he tried to harness that savage vigor that came so naturally to his ancestors, that power and confidence that he could never manage.


Why couldn’t he make her moan the way that woman had in that forest liaison? It was never easy to tell what she was feeling, but now more than ever. She was just staring at him, with eyes just a little bit wider than normal. And as he pumped, her hands gently rested upon his back, as if to cradle him against that massive form. He grit his teeth and pumped her harder, slamming his cock into her with enough force to send that tummy and those breasts bouncing all about ever-so-slightly beneath his sight, taking up his entire field of vision. None of his efforts seemed to elicit so much as a harsh breath from her.


As expected from a virgin like him, when he finally reached climax, it came completely unexpectedly. It was the moment his last thread connecting him to his virginity was severed, and yet it was so anticlimactic, no more glamorous than his own sticky fumblings with his hands. Still, he couldn’t deny the bliss of it, tensing against his mother as the feeling caught his breath and he buried himself against her. All his inhibitions fled from him, and he buried his face in her belly, letting himself sink into all that fat as his thrusts slowed to a stop, and only then did it really dawn on him that he’d emptied himself into his own mother.


All the while, she cuddled him close and rubbed over his back as if she was caring for him, in the same way that she did when he was sick. And as his faculties returned, he could feel that sudden shame and clarity creeping in the way it always did after he came. It wasn’t long before she could feel a tear soaking into the fur of her belly. She stroked his cheek. “My child,” she asked. “What troubles you so?”


“Nothing.” He sniffled through that bold-faced lie. “It’s just… this isn’t right. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I screwed it all up. I screw everything up.”


She pulled him up, his cock sliding out of her and dangling beneath him as it quickly softened and began its retreat back into its sheath. Now it was her breasts his head was being cradled between, snout lost in that dark valley, so warm, so squishy. As if that softness might swallow him up itself, absorb him into that massive frame of hers. “Cerlinn, I would not have traded that for the whole world,” she said earnestly. “It was my honor to be your first. You made no mistakes. I will always love you.”


But those words just felt like the twisting of a dagger to him. “You say that. You always say that… because you feel sorry for me,” he said, “but you would have rather had a strong son. Right? A warrior. Like Galin, or Khalil, or… like you. That’s why you had me in the first place, just to have an heir. But I’m so… useless. That’s why you’re so cold to me, isn’t it? You don’t care about me. You don’t even like me. Not really. I’m just… something you pity.”


She was silent for a long time. Cerlinn figured that meant he must be right, and she had no argument. And then it was his turn to feel his fur go a little wet with tears. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked up to face her. It was the most emotion she’d ever expressed, by some lips and bounds; subtle by most people’s standards, but there was a genuine hurt in her eyes, and a wetness to her cheeks. He stared, dumbstruck. After years and years of seeing her as nothing but a machine of ruthless efficiency, to see her expressing emotion like any other wolf… “Mom, what’s wrong?”


“I-I’m just… baffled at where I could have gone so wrong, made such grave errors... that even my own son considers himself unloved.”


To see her cry was like seeing the rain fall upwards, or the sky turn green. It was just impossible. And Cerlinn felt stirring within him a feeling he’d never experienced towards the larger woman: a sense of protectiveness. She crawled up to hug her close, like out of an instinct to protect her from whatever had harmed her, only to realize that she’d been harmed by his own words. And soon they were both blubbering and soaking eachother’s fur with tears, and in his self-loathing Cerlinn wished he could crawl out of this terrible world, that he could return to that time before he was born. And then he remembered with a start that that was exactly what he’d soon be doing.


He was at least soothed somewhat by being allowed to rest her head upon her breasts as he cried, like pillows that would rise and fall gently whenever she breathed and cause his head to briefly squish even further into their surfaces. By the time his vision cleared, his mother had once again steeled herself, and was staring at the shrine’s ceiling with that icy glare. Then she cleared her throat.


“It had been difficult… to be the first she-wolf to lead our pack. Even though I came at a time when the pack sorely needed a leader… yet the scrutiny was intense.” She reminisced forlornly. “My detractors probed for the tiniest little hint of weakness, the faintest chip in my armor they could weave into a scandal. So these feelings, these expressions… I had to beat them out of myself at a very young age. So that I could be cold and solid like a statue, and even the most incredulous among them would be unable to deny that I am an icon of strength.”


She looked down at him with eyes that, to anybody else, would look apathetic, but to him looked filled to bursting with motherly devotion. “Fear is not the only sign of weakness, or so we believed. I could not love something, care for anything, feel anything. All of that could be a sign of weakness.” She whispered. “By now, I’ve led us all through enough troughs and valleys that I have no more detractors. Yet the façade remains. How can I teach myself everything I’ve spent my entire life trying to forget?”


He ran a hand gently over her cheek. “We could learn from eachother,” he offered, mustering a light smile. “I mean… if I’m going to be alpha soon, I have to learn how to act pretty cool and tough, too. Right?”


It was the first drop of levity they’d had, and despite herself, she chuckled along with him - another first. He was surprised by a sudden boop to his nose. “But before you can reach that point, you must be a man. And we have not yet finished,” she pointed out. “One step still remains. Remember?”


He gulped. As daunting as the sex had been, it was nothing compared to the fear he felt at what came next. “After all this, you’re still afraid?” She frowned, seeing how he physically recoiled from her as she drew near. But she was able to cradle him against her again, and while his head rested upon her breasts, it was impossible for him to experience any fear in the world. One of her gentle hands ran along the fur atop his head as she whispered in his ear. “Shhh, there, there, my darling. Let it all fade away. And thank you for all these years. Even if it might not have shown it… you make me happy.”


Everybody has at least one happy place in the world, and he’d just discovered his now, odd as it was: between his mother’s breasts, letting their size completely hide his head away until he can’t hear or see anything beyond them, mired in her sweat. His only sadness was that he could not feel it around every single part of his body. And then, for a moment, his tired mind almost believed that his wish was coming true, when he shifted downwards somewhat and began to feel a similar heat completely enveloping his legs.


He cooed in anticipation, his mind full of the image of his entire body being squished between giant breasts. But something was wrong. His legs weren’t just somewhere hot, they were surrounded by… wetness. He braved a look downwards, and gasped at what he saw. Her pussy had accepted his legs so easily, he had hardly even noticed it in his distracted state, accompanied only by a wet slurp that had gone unheard due to the muffling of her breasts. 


He had wondered at how easily she could fit him into her, but he had no idea it’d be that trivial for her. Guess he should have guessed, given her size compared to him. But still, just the ease of it filled him with a strange sort of dread, as if he was being pulled into the maw of some massive and rapacious beast. She saw that flicker of nervousness in his eyes, and covered his face once more by squishing her breasts together. “There is nothing to fear. In a few minutes, you will be in the safest place you could imagine on this entire earth.”


He could not argue with that. In fact, it made him chide himself for being stupid. Who could he possibly trust more than his own mother? Where could he possibly be safer than inside of a powerful warrior who would sacrifice anything to protect him? So he gave her one more kiss right upon one of her breasts. “I love you too, mom.” And with that, he let himself be pulled downwards, flopping down between her meaty thighs with his lower half sunk into her.


The sheer warmth inside of her was exciting, and felt sort of like creeping into a hot tub: with every inch that slid into her, the heat seemed intense, and he was momentarily afraid he’d be overwhelmed. But then said inch would quickly acclimate, getting used to its heated confines. He shuddered particularly when his cock slid into her, still rigid as it was. Even though there was not much difference from what they’d been doing, for some reason, feeling the heat and undulations around his member as he was swallowed up into her entirely felt far more stimulating than when he’d just been fucking her.


Then, she’d barely even made a sound - embarrassing as it seemed to him, his comparatively tiny boyhood could do nothing to stimulate a woman who dwarfed him so utterly. But now that his entire body was sliding into her, that finally put a tinge of pleasure in her increasingly heavy breaths, and an expression that flickered rapidly between sheer determination and blissful indulgence. It was still an understated reaction - heck, when Gervais underwent this ritual, his mother’s cries of bliss could be heard all around the village. 


Gervais. The name sent shivers through him. He remembered now that he hadn’t seen his friend since he stepped into the shrine holding his mother’s hand. That was months ago. Since then, he’s just been a bump in his proud mother’s round belly, only to be released once the ‘time is right’ for him to be reborn. ‘How long will it take,’ Cerlinn wondered, ‘for the time to be right for me?’ He knew it would be months, maybe even years, for him to see the sunlight again.


She didn’t even need to use her hands to push him in, instead letting the clenching and tensing of her muscles squeeze and pull him on gradually. How was she so good at this? If she’d wanted, she could’ve probably enveloped him in moments. Maybe she’d been practicing. Leaving her hands free had the added benefit of letting her play with her clit as he was pulled steadily into her. He was in no better a position, really, moaning and gasping along with her as he could not help but hump against those smooth walls.


He left his arms against his sides so they would slide into her easily, but felt a tinge of nervousness once he knew he was pinned and had no way to reach out or wriggle free. Not that escape was a possibility either way. It felt like he was at the mercy of some hungry python, and each clench was like a swallow dragging him further into its drooling gullet. His mother was as lost in the moment, gasping, tensing, breasts heaving up and down with her heavy breaths, and Cerlinn was feeling like some sort of toy.


Soon, only his head remained. Every single part of him resting in that incredible heat, but he could still just taste that cool air. Juices flowed around his neck, and her hands were just above him playing feverishly with her clit as she bucked and gasped. Stupidly, he felt fit to hold his breath. Then, all was darkness.


The moments upon entering the womb were a bit frightening. He was curled up and being squeezed from all sights, and for a moment he thought it was too much. Too tight, too hot, too dark, too much for him to endure for all these months. But then the swadling effect kicked in as his body realized where he was, and activated instincts that had laid dormant within him since before he was born. The most intense heat felt to him like a comfortable, tingling warmth, the tightest squeeze felt like a loving caress. It was impossible to worry or care about anything at all. And now he knew why babies cried so much whenever they were born. Compared to the blissful heaven of the womb, the outside world seemed like a cold and harsh and terrible place, and he wondered how he’d put up with being out there for so long.


Though she hadn’t shown it, his mother had been just as anxious these past months. More afraid than when hunting massive beasts or battling other packs. She’d feared she’d hurt or disappoint her only son. But now the deed was done, and he was tucked away. All had gone well.


She rode out a few more climaxes there upon the ground, before she rested until she could finally find the strength to stand without her legs wobbling. Soon, she was strolling out of the shrine, her massive heavily pregnant belly wobbling side to side as her hips swayed, and a cacophony of cheers serenaded her as she passed her loyal packmates. But there was only one person in the world whose approval she cared about. She ran a finger over her belly, feeling him cradled so perfectly inside her, and wondered when his time would be right to be reborn. Part of her hoped it wouldn’t be for many moons.