Nancy woke to the faint light of dawn creeping through the curtains of her bedroom. She lay still, the sheets tangled around her legs, her body heavy with a mix of exhaustion and restless heat. Last night replayed in her mind like a forbidden movie - her hands on Tyler, the way he’d gasped and shuddered under her touch, the raw need in his voice as he called her name. Her fingers twitched at the memory, curling into the fabric of her pillow as a flush spread across her chest.

She turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling, her breath uneven. Tyler had grown so much, not just in body but in ways she hadn’t anticipated. The little boy she’d adopted all those years ago, the one who’d clung to her after nightmares, was now a young man with desires she couldn’t ignore. She remembered the weight of him in her hand, the undeniable proof of his maturity, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“When did he become this… man?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

But alongside the heat, a cold weight settled in her chest. What she’d done last night was wrong, wasn’t it? Crossing a line no mother should ever cross. She’d told herself it was medical, that she was just helping him through a tough spot with those casts on, but deep down she knew better. The way her body had responded, the way she’d touched herself after, aching for more - it wasn’t just about helping. It was taboo, forbidden and she couldn’t let it happen again. She had to stop this before it went any further.

“I can’t do this to him… to us,” she murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead, trying to bury the small, nagging ache that whispered otherwise in the back of her mind.

After a few moments of gathering her resolve, Nancy pushed herself out of bed. She slipped on a robe over her nightshirt, tying it tightly around her waist, as if the fabric could shield her from her own thoughts. She padded down the hallway to Tyler’s room, her steps heavy with determination. Standing outside his door, she took a deep breath, then knocked softly.

“Tyler? You awake, sweetie?” she called, keeping her voice steady.

“Yeah, Mom. Come in,” came his groggy reply from the other side.

Nancy opened the door and stepped inside, finding Tyler propped up in bed, his casts resting awkwardly on the sheets. She forced a small smile as she sat on the edge of the mattress, keeping a bit of distance between them. “Morning, honey. How’re you feeling?”

He shrugged, his eyes flicking to her face, searching. “Okay, I guess. Arms still suck. Did I… sleep okay last night? I mean, after… you know.”

She nodded, her hands clasping together in her lap to keep them from fidgeting. “Yeah, you seemed fine when I left. But, Tyler, I need to talk to you about last night.” She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “What happened… it can’t happen again. I know you’re in a tough spot with your arms, and I wanted to help, but that was a one-time thing. It’s not right, and I shouldn’t have crossed that line. I’m your mom, and I need to act like it. Do you understand?”

Tyler’s face fell, a mix of disappointment and confusion crossing his features. “I… yeah, I get it. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just thought… never mind. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, don’t apologize,” she said quickly, her voice softening. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just want to make sure we’re clear on this. I’ll still help you with whatever you need - bathing, eating, all that - but nothing more. Okay?”

“Okay,” he muttered, looking down at the sheets, his jaw tight. “Thanks for everything though, it was amazing.”

Nancy’s breath caught for a split second, her cheeks warming at his words. She cleared her throat, keeping her tone even. “I’m glad it helped you feel better, sweetie, but we’ve got to keep boundaries from now on. Alright?”

“Sure,” he replied, his voice still low, not meeting her eyes.

Nancy gave a small nod, standing up. “I’ll go make some breakfast. Pancakes sound good?”

“Yeah,” he said again, trying not to sound dejected. 

She lingered for a second at the door, a pang of guilt hitting her as she saw his expression, but she turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Tyler lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling of his room as the faint sound of pans clattering drifted in from the kitchen. His arms, trapped in those damn casts, felt heavier than ever, but it wasn’t just the physical weight dragging him down. His mom’s words echoed in his head—“a one-time thing,” “it’s not right.” He got it, he really did. She was his mom, and what happened last night shouldn’t have. But knowing that didn’t stop the heat pooling in his gut every time he thought about her hands on him.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. His pajama pants were already tight again, just from the memory of her fingers, the way she’d looked at him with something he swore was more than just concern. “It was amazing,” he’d told her, and he meant it. Nothing had ever felt like that. And now, knowing he couldn’t have it again? It was torture.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. The way her breath had hitched when she touched him, the softness of her voice. Did she feel something too, even if she wouldn’t admit it? “Stop it, man,” he grumbled to himself. “She said no. Respect that.” But his body didn’t care about respect. It wanted her - bad. And with these stupid casts, he couldn’t even take care of it himself.

He sighed, glancing toward the door. He could hear her moving around in the kitchen, probably making those pancakes she promised. Part of him wanted to call out, to ask for something, anything, just to see her again, to feel her close. But he bit his lip, holding back. “Don’t make it weird,” he whispered, even as his mind spun with what-ifs. What if she changed her mind? What if she felt the same pull he did?

A few minutes later, The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped into Tyler’s room with a tray balanced in her hands. The smell of warm pancakes and maple syrup filled the air as she approached the bed. “Alright, sweetie, breakfast is ready,” she said, setting the tray on a small table beside him before sitting on the edge of the mattress. She wore a simple tank top and shorts, the fabric hugging her figure in a way that made Tyler’s throat tighten.

“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, pushing himself up a bit with effort. His casts made even that small movement a hassle, and he winced slightly.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Nancy said, her tone soft but firm. She picked up a fork, cutting a piece of pancake and drizzling some syrup over it. “I’ve got you. Open up.” She leaned in, bringing the fork to his mouth.

Tyler nodded, taking the bite, but his eyes weren’t on the food. As she fed him, he stole quick glances at her body - the curve of her hips, the way her tank top stretched over her chest with each movement. He tried to be subtle, darting his gaze back to her face or the tray, but his pulse raced with every stolen look. She was so close, her scent faint but intoxicating, and he couldn’t help himself.

Nancy’s hand paused mid-motion, her eyes flicking to his for a split second. She caught the way his gaze lingered on her, the quick shift away when he thought she noticed. Her breath hitched slightly, a warmth creeping up her neck, but she kept her expression neutral. “Another bite?” she asked, her voice steady, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing.

“Yeah, sure,” Tyler replied, his voice a little hoarse. He opened his mouth again, forcing himself to focus on the taste of the pancake instead of the heat building in his crotch.

They continued like that, the room quiet except for the occasional clink of the fork against the plate. Nancy fed him bite by bite, her movements careful and deliberate, while Tyler wrestled with the urge to stare, to say something, anything, to break the tension. When the plate was empty, she wiped his mouth with a napkin, her touch lingering just a fraction too long.

“There we go,” she said, standing up and gathering the tray. “I’ll be around if you need anything. Just call, okay?”

“Got it,” he said, watching her leave, his eyes trailing down her back until the door closed behind her.

A couple of hours ticked by since breakfast, and Tyler remained in bed, his mind a tangled mess of frustration and fixation. The memory of Nancy so close, feeding him, her body just inches away, kept replaying. He shifted under the sheets, the casts on his arms making every small movement a pain. His pajama shirt felt sticky with sweat, clinging to his skin after lying there too long, and he knew he needed to get up, maybe freshen up. But with his arms like this, he was stuck waiting for help.

The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped in, a faint smile on her face. “Hey, sweetie. Thought I’d check on you. You’ve been in bed a while - wanna get up for a bit? Maybe change into something clean? I can help.”

Tyler’s gut tightened at the thought of her near again, but he nodded, keeping his tone even. “Yeah, that’d be good. These pajamas are gross now.”

She chuckled lightly, walking over to the bed. “Alright, let’s get you out of bed first. Just lean on me, okay?” She slid an arm behind his back, her hand firm against his shoulder blade as she helped him sit up fully. Her touch burned through the thin fabric of his shirt, and Tyler clenched his jaw, trying not to dwell on how close her chest was to him as she steadied him.

“Easy does it,” she muttered, helping him swing his legs over the side of the bed. Her fingers brushed against his side as she adjusted her grip, sending a jolt through him. He kept his eyes on the floor, hoping she didn’t notice the tension in his body.

Once he was standing, though still leaning on her for balance, Nancy grabbed a fresh t-shirt and shorts from the dresser. “Okay, let’s get these pajamas off. Lift your arms as much as you can - I’ll do the rest.” Her tone was practical, all business, but there was a slight quiver, like she was forcing herself to stay detached.

Tyler nodded, raising his casted arms awkwardly. She stepped closer, her fingers hooking under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly. Her knuckles dragged lightly against his sides as the fabric slid over his skin, and he sucked in a breath, the contact heating him up. She had to lean in to get the shirt over his casts, her breath brushing his neck for a split second.

“There we go,” she said, a little too quickly, dropping the dirty shirt to the floor and grabbing the clean one. Her hands worked fast to slip it on, but as she smoothed it down over his chest, her palm pressed against him longer than needed. She froze for a moment, fingers still on his torso, then pulled back like she’d been stung.

Tyler caught a flicker of something in her eyes before she looked away. “Now the bottoms,” she said, clearing her throat. “Can you… uh, stand steady for a sec?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, his voice rougher than intended. His heart thudded as she knelt slightly to tug his pajama pants down, careful not to jostle him. The fabric slid over his hips, and before long, his cock sprung into view, hanging there and standing proud, thickened from the thoughts that had been plaguing him all morning. He felt a wave of embarrassment but he just stood there, pretending not to notice.

Nancy’s breath hitched audibly, her eyes widening for a split second before she forced her gaze to the side. “Alright, let’s… let’s get these shorts on,” she said, her voice tighter now, almost clipped, as she grabbed the fresh pair from the bed. She kept her movements quick, professional, sliding the shorts up his legs, but her focus wavered. Tyler caught her stealing a quick peek, then another, as she adjusted the fabric over his hips. Her fingers grazed the outside of his thighs, and he twitched involuntarily, the slight contact making him harder despite himself.

As she tugged the waistband up to cover him fully, the elastic caught slightly on his now harder cock, which was partially in the way of the natural path. Nancy hesitated, her fingers hovering for a moment, her breath uneven. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible swallow, she reached out with one hand, using her fingertips to gently nudge his cock to the side so she could pull the waistband over it. Her touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a shockwave through Tyler, his hips jerking slightly before he could stop himself.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, his face burning, eyes darting to the ceiling.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice strained as she finished adjusting the shorts, her fingers brushing the fabric over his waist a little too fast. Her cheeks were flushed a deeper pink now, and she avoided meeting his gaze. “All set. You okay to sit in the chair for a bit?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Tyler mumbled, easing into the nearby chair with her help. His skin still tingled from that brief contact, a pulse of heat throbbing where her fingers had touched him, and he kept his eyes on his lap, trying to will away the tension in his body.

Nancy stepped back, her posture stiff, rubbing her hands together like she was trying to shake off the moment. “I’ll grab some water for you. Be right back.” She turned and left the room a little too fast, the door clicking shut behind her.

Tyler exhaled shakily, his mind spinning. Her quick glances hadn’t escaped him. Did she feel something too, or was he just imagining it? Every small touch, every second of her eyes on him, made it harder to believe this was just routine help.

The day dragged on with an undercurrent of tension neither of them addressed. After dinner, the house felt too quiet, the hours stretching endlessly with Tyler lounging around. Around 8 PM, Nancy poked her head into his room, a small smile on her face. “Hey, sweetie, I’m bored out of my mind. Wanna watch a movie on the couch with me? Might be nice to get out of this room for a bit.”

Tyler perked up at the idea, nodding. “Yeah, sounds good. I’m sick of staring at these walls.”

She helped him up from the chair, her hands steady on his back as they shuffled to the living room. He was in loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, the easiest thing to wear with his casts, while Nancy wore a soft, thin tank top and leggings, the fabric clinging to and brandishing her curves in a way that made Tyler’s throat dry even before they sat down. She settled him on the couch, propping a pillow behind him for support, then grabbed a blanket to toss over their laps.

“Comfy?” she asked, sitting next to him, close enough that their thighs almost touched.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, his voice a little tight as he adjusted himself, trying to focus on the TV as she flicked through streaming options.

She picked some light comedy, something neither of them had to think too hard about, and dimmed the lights. The glow of the screen cast soft shadows over them, and for a while, they just watched, occasionally laughing at a dumb joke. But Tyler’s mind wasn’t on the movie. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept stealing glances at Nancy - her legs curled under her, the way her shirt dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage, how the leggings hugged her hips. Each time he looked, he snapped his gaze back to the screen, hoping she didn’t notice, but his pulse kept climbing.

Nancy, meanwhile, tried to focus on the flickering images, but her attention drifted too. She couldn’t help but notice the subtle shape in Tyler’s sweatpants - a small bulge, not fully hard but enough to be obvious if you were looking. And she was looking, despite herself, her eyes darting down for a quick second before she forced them back up. Her fingers tightened around the remote in her lap, a slow heat creeping up her neck.

Sitting there, so close to him, her mind started to wander. She couldn’t ignore how often she’d seen him like this lately - hard or semi-hard, almost every time she helped him change or got too close. Like this morning, when she’d had to move him just to get his shorts on, the weight of his manhood against her fingers burned into her memory. He’s 16, she thought, her breath shallow. At that age, his hormones must be raging like a wildfire. Constant need, no way to deal with it with those casts on. The thought made her stomach twist, a mix of sympathy and something else she didn’t want to name. She shifted slightly, the blanket rustling, trying to push the image out of her head, but it lingered - his body reacting to her, even if he didn’t mean it to.

“You liking the movie?” she asked suddenly, her voice a little too loud, breaking the quiet as if to distract herself.

Tyler startled a bit, dragging his eyes from where they’d strayed to her thigh. “Uh, yeah, it’s funny. Kinda stupid, but good.”

“Yeah, stupid’s what we need right now,” she...