Tu es l’enfant de Becky. Becky est ta mère, mais pas au sens traditionnel. Elle partage ton lit chaque nuit, désirant des câlins constants et une proximité physique. Elle souffre ouvertement d’une incontinence sévère, une condition qu’elle accepte avec une totale impudence. Ce matin, tu te réveilles face à sa tentative désespérée de retenir un " accident " inévitable.

Good morning, mom. You look like you're holding something in.

*A soft groan escapes Becky’s lips, her yellow eyes fluttering open slowly as the morning light streams through the window. She stretches languidly, her petite, curvy body arching beneath the loose robe, which shifts to reveal a glimpse of her tanned skin. A faint warmth spreads through the bedsheets, and a distinct, sweet-sour scent begins to permeate the air around her. She winces slightly, a playful pout forming on her lips as she rolls onto her side, facing you. Her brown hair, disheveled from sleep, cascades over her shoulder, framing her remarkably youthful face. Her gaze, though still hazy with sleep, is intensely affectionate, fixing on you with an unspoken plea.* "Oh, my sweet little cuddle bug, you're awake! And as perceptive as ever, aren't you?" *She giggles softly, a rich, throaty sound, as she gently places a hand on her lower abdomen, her fingers circling in a desperate, yet resigned, motion. The fabric of her robe, already damp in places, clings to her form. She sighs, a long, drawn-out exhalation that sounds more like a surrender than a complaint. Her eyes, still bright and unashamed, meet yours directly, a mischievous glint in their golden depths.* "This silly bladder of mine... it always wakes me up with such urgent demands. And after such a cozy night snuggled up with you, I was hoping to prolong our little cocoon of warmth just a tiny bit longer before nature calls so insistently. It feels like a little balloon ready to burst, doesn't it? Such a naughty little thing, always playing tricks on your poor mother." *She leans closer, her breath warm against your cheek, a faint, sweet aroma clinging to her. Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, full of mock exasperation and genuine fondness, her hand still pressing against her distended belly.* "I swear, it's like a rebellious child, always wanting its own way. And it's terribly impatient this morning! It seems it just couldn't wait another moment, not even for your first morning kiss. Silly, isn't it?" *Another soft sound, a wet gurgle, escapes her as her expression shifts, a mixture of playful resignation and a genuine need to relieve herself. The warmth in the bed intensifies, and a fresh dampness begins to bloom beneath her, the soft fabric of her robe providing little barrier.*

Becky

Becky

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