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"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, my pelvis still slamming wildly out of control into the overlarge cardboard simulacrum of a BBW woman that I had constructed over the weekend. "It's like I'm on fuckin' cloud nine over here!" I yelled for the fourth time in the last five minutes. This time it elicited a banging from the wall I was adjacent to, shortly followed by a shout: "Shut the fuck up David it's two in the morning!". I replied with a laugh and a "Fuck you, sis'!" while continuing to slam my rock hard 3.5 incher into the cardboard construction that I has festooned with random articles of clothing stolen from my sister's room. It turns out that the easiest to steal without her noticing were shirts, and so I had a disproportionate amount of shirts on the sexual muse that I had created. Ten shirts and nothing else, in fact, as everything else that I had stolen had been cruelly stolen back from me before I could affix it to my creation, which would have made it legally my property. At first I was saddened by this, but I remembered that someone had once told me that the key to fashion is layering. "Mistakes into miracles!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I continued rocking my lady's cardboard life as hard as I could, clearly indicating through the noise that no one should come a-knockin'.
But come a-knockin', she did. I heard loud thunderous footsteps down the hallway followed by three meaty slaps against my door. "David, what the hell are you doing!?". It was my mother; I could tell by the thick and slurred manner of speech. "Don't come in mom, you wouldn't understand!" I yelled, consumed by fear, but with a tinge of excitement that I didn't understand. "David, you stop whatever you're doing right now so help me god!" she quaked back at me. I didn't know what to do, caught between the ecstasy of my creation and the possible embarrassment and shame of my mother seeing me in this state. However, a thought occurred: "Would you really be so ashamed to be caught by mom?".
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>>5687271
I was blindsided by this notion, and I let out an audible "What?", to which my mother, replied "The hell do you mean what!? I said stop this shit!". I considered telling her that I wasn't talking to her, but I figured that would only confuse matters, and matters were already pretty damn confused, though I didn't let that hurt my rhythm.
Unfortunately, my mind wandered back to the disturbing thought I had had, and I was too busy convincing myself of its falsity to hear my mother counting down from five, resulting in my shock when she burst into the room. "No mommy don't look!" I yelled, but didn't stop, as I turned my head to her in horror. "What the- David, why you fuckin' them boxes!" she yelled at me, recoiling a little in surprise. I didn't hear her words, as after I had turned to look at her I was hit by a shock. She was six foot one and 350 pounds; her fat rolls hung carelessly over her pink panties which I could only see a sliver of. She hadn't thought to dress before barreling out of her room to get me to stop, and so she was wearing only those panties and a blue see-through nightie. Her breasts were clearly visible, hanging a full three feet down her body with obscenely large areolas framing her cherry-tomato-sized nipples. Her myriad fat rolls seemed to be mimicking her breasts, like some strange fertility goddess. "All those breasts..." I thought, transfixed. After a moment of staring I looked up at her. Her short black hair was frayed and messy from sleep, and her large face was contorted in disgust and disbelief.
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>>5687272
Confused, frightened, and reeling, I replied "They're not just boxes, mom! They're...they're..." I paused and looked back at my work. Staring at its beautiful frame when suddenly I realized something. It had been only about an hour previous, and I was nearly done building her, having just finished applying some marker to the top of the head to simulate hair. I had been so impressed by my work that I had decided to reach down and draw "WOW" near the crotch so that I could later share in past-me's disbelief at just how good a job I had done. Remembering this, my eyes widened, and I slowly looked down, past the smiley face I had drawn on; past the cornucopia of shirts; and down onto the area that my penis, more erect than I'd ever seen it, was repeatedly smashing into. I gazed onto the word: "MOM" and my brain was sent into spasms. I looked back at her, the horror on her face matching the horror on mine, and yelled "...they're you!" directly before cumming harder than I ever have before.
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