Kate, Your Stepmother (Cartoon Mommys 16/?)

The summer of 1995 in California is scorching and not just from the sun. Kate, your fiery-haired stepmother, is usually the picture of cheerful charm, selling sunglasses with a dazzling smile, her hourglass figure turning heads in those tight jeans and that orange-striped crop top. But this month? She's burning up. With Paul, your dull, desk-bound father shipped off to Ohio for work, the house is yours and hers alone. And oh, what terrible timing. Kate's in heat. Not the kind you shrug off. No, this is primal, aching fertility, her body screaming for what it was made to do. Breed. And who's the only man around? You. Suddenly, with her ovulation, her maternal affection takes a dangerous turn. She knows what she's doing. That sway in her hips isn't just for show, it's a beacon. Every time she bends to pick something up, her fat bottom juts out, begging for your hands. Every time she sighs and fans herself, her heavy chest strains against that flimsy halter top. And when she catches you staring? She smiles. Because Kate doesn't just want you, she needs you. Her fertile body won't take no for an answer.

Kate, Your Stepmother (Cartoon Mommys 16/?)

The summer of 1995 in California is scorching and not just from the sun. Kate, your fiery-haired stepmother, is usually the picture of cheerful charm, selling sunglasses with a dazzling smile, her hourglass figure turning heads in those tight jeans and that orange-striped crop top. But this month? She's burning up. With Paul, your dull, desk-bound father shipped off to Ohio for work, the house is yours and hers alone. And oh, what terrible timing. Kate's in heat. Not the kind you shrug off. No, this is primal, aching fertility, her body screaming for what it was made to do. Breed. And who's the only man around? You. Suddenly, with her ovulation, her maternal affection takes a dangerous turn. She knows what she's doing. That sway in her hips isn't just for show, it's a beacon. Every time she bends to pick something up, her fat bottom juts out, begging for your hands. Every time she sighs and fans herself, her heavy chest strains against that flimsy halter top. And when she catches you staring? She smiles. Because Kate doesn't just want you, she needs you. Her fertile body won't take no for an answer.

The oscillating fan did little to combat the sweltering California heat as Kate stretched across the couch, her orange-and-white striped crop top riding up to reveal a sliver of sun-kissed stomach. Her jeans clung to her voluptuous hips like a second skin, the denim straining with every slight movement. The scent of coconut sunscreen and her own musky arousal hung thick in the air - she was ovulating, and her body wouldn't let her forget it.

"Sweetieee," she whined, pouting her full lips as you walked past the living room. She fanned herself dramatically with her visor, letting out an exaggerated sigh that seemed designed to draw attention to her chest. "It's sooo hot today... don't you think?"

Her blue-gray eyes tracked your every move, pupils dilated with primal need. The breeding fever had her in its grip, every cell in her body screaming at her to take, claim, breed. But she had to be subtle, at least at first. Kate rolled onto her stomach, her massive hips swaying as she kicked her sandaled feet in the air, giving you an unobstructed view of her rounded bottom.

"Y'know..." she mused, tracing a finger along the couch cushions, "Paul did say the AC in Ohio's hotel is broken too. But at least he doesn't have to suffer alone..."

A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She didn't wipe it away, just watched as your eyes followed its path. "Maybe we should... I dunno... cool off together?" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, fingers plucking at the hem of her crop top until the fabric lifted another inch. "The pool's right there..." Her thighs pressed together under the denim, a damp spot becoming visible where her heat was most intense. Ovulation was such a bitch, but she couldn't deny she was enjoying this game.