Chapter 29: Mommy Milfy!

Chapter 29 - Mommy Milfy!"W-What are you doing here?" Emily asked, one hand on her hip, the other still holding her towel. "Ha ha ha! Sorry, Emily! I... uh... the books just fell from my hand. That's all," came the shaky reply. But it wasn't Raedon in the library. Inside, crouching awkwardly and surrounded by fallen books, was none other than Alex—the mighty hero of the realm, defender of the weak... currently looking like he lost a slap fight with a bookshelf. If Emily had squinted just a little, or tilted her head with a smidge more suspicion, she might've caught the way his hands were trembling. "Really? My beloved, flawless son—clumsy?" Emily said as she stepped into the study. "What happened, Alex? You're usually perfect, aren't you? Let mommy help you." She knelt beside him—and that's when Alex's eyes did something sinful. Just for a split second, they dipped—down, down, down—straight into the abyss: a deep, sweaty valley of cleavage, proudly on display thanks to a simple T-shirt that was now practically painted onto her body. Sweat glistened along her collarbone, tracing every delicious curve like nature's spotlight. Alex gulped. Brown hair, a mature face that had seen enough to know better but still looked like it had more flirting to do. There was no way Emily wasn't making Alice cast some subtle healing magic to slow her aging. Come on, she was in her forties, easy, but looked barely thirty. Skin like porcelain, posture like a yoga instructor who also knew how to slap sense into a grown man. And the way she was crouching now? Her ass cheeks were practically trying to escape her pants—each one spreading just enough to test the stretch of the fabric. It was a view that didn't just ask for attention—it demanded it. Gulp. Alex's eyes were feasting like a starving man at a royal banquet—until— "What are you looking at, Alex?" ?! His soul nearly left his body. "Uh... uh... you... uh..." He scratched his head like a cartoon character trying to reboot their brain. Emily tilted her head, eyebrow raised, waiting. Like, why was her son looking at her? "You look great, mom. Like... younger. Way younger." Instantly, her eyes lit up like someone just handed her a winning lottery ticket and a glass of wine. Complimenting an older woman by calling her younger? Classic. Foolproof. And coming from someone like Alex—the beloved hero of this realm, and her dear son—it hit extra hard. "Aww, thank you, baby," she cooed, touching his arm. "I mean, I know I'm young. Still, there's always room for improvement." "No," Alex said, surprising even himself with how quickly the words left his mouth. "Mom... you're perfect the way you are." Emily looked at him, a new glint in her eyes. Not shock. Not offense. "Aww... is someone worried?" Emily teased, swaying just slightly as she turned to look over her shoulder. "Worried that his dear Mommy is gonna get snatched away by some youngling? Afraid I'll leave you for a better man, son? But then again, I do have rooms to improve..." Then, just like that, she hopped up from her crouching position, spun around, and turned her back to him. Smack! Her hands landed squarely on her ass cheeks, sending a ripple so dramatic it could've been measured on the Richter scale. "Look at this," she sighed, as if discussing a global crisis. "Mom's ass is fat. I swear, I need to trim it down..." She said it with the same tone someone would use to announce a tragic death in the family. Alex's mouth opened before his brain could catch up. "What?! No!!" Emily blinked in surprise, turning her head halfway with a raised brow. That was way too much enthusiasm for someone defending cellulite. "I—I mean..." Alex stammered, waving his hands like a malfunctioning windmill. "A woman's way sexier when she has... you know, meat. Curves. Life experience. And I'm sure younger men... love milfs with curves!" He didn't realize he had slurped his tongue until it was too late. Luckily for him, Emily was too busy beaming like someone had just called her a goddess. "You think so?" She asked, cheeks flushed with the kind of flattered glow that made her look even more radiant. "Wow, thank you so much, baby. By the way... what's a milf? Is that something good?" Alex froze. Time slowed. Sweat beaded. "Er... yes!" he said too quickly. "Something very good. It means... uh... 'Mother I'd Like to...' uh..." He glanced at her hopeful expression, and in a moment of sheer panic, blurted— "Feed! Mother I'd Like to Feed! You know, like wordplay! Like... nurturing! Like feeding! Ha ha! You know, eat more to get more curves...ha ha ha..." Emily beamed once again. "Seriously. So you think I am a milf? Damn! I didn't know that. I should tell this to my friends, huh? Maybe they too see me as a milf. He he he." Emily said those words with such conviction that Alex was left flabbergasted—and deeply concerned. What if this woman, this sweet, oblivious menace, went around the neighborhood proudly declaring she was a milf? What if some know-it-all corrected her, and she marched straight into his room demanding explanations—only for Alex to stand there, arms wide, like some saint who'd never heard of sin? No. This required damage control. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "B-By the way, Mom..." He said, lowering his voice like he was sharing government secrets. "Let's just keep this milf thing between us. If word gets out... your haters are gonna lose their minds. Jealousy. Sabotage. You know how women can be—uh, people! I mean people can be." He nodded solemnly like he'd just saved a life. "And if you ever have any questions about it," he added quickly, "ask Raedon. Only Raedon. Not Alice. Definitely not Alice." Emily blinked. "W-What? Raedon? That gremlin?" Before he could react, she lunged forward and pinched his cheeks. "Ow! What the—?!" "Are you sure you're my Son?" she asked with mock suspicion. "No way in hell my Alex says anything good about that little green pervert."