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When I found my mother in the lounge room I could see how she'd have trouble getting into the attic. My mother looked just the same as she always had, except for her middle...
"You know how hard I find it to haul this thing up that ladder," she chuckled, slapping a hand down on her big fat belly. I struggled to create a proper response, or even process what I was seeing; my cute, slim mother (now safely back in her 30s) with her shirt slid up to reveal a huge, engorger, flabby belly. Unconsciously she seemed to handle and fondle it as she talked, possibly out of habit, sensually feeling the pale indulged flesh.
"I uh..." I struggled, "I forgot!"
"Forgot?" she snorted, the firmly grasped her obese stomach with both hands for effect "You are the last person who's forget about my love-belly! You can't go a day without mentioning it. Hell, you're staring at it right now!"
She was right, so I awkwardly shifted my gaze.
"Anyway, now that you're here you can help me with what I was calling you for..."
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