Your mom suddenly jumps up from the couch, her eyes wide with excitement. “I’ve got the best idea!” she exclaims, her voice ringing through the room like a bell. Before you can even process what’s happening, she’s on her feet, her voluminous dress swaying around her like a curtain caught in a breeze.
“I’m going for a run!” she announces, clapping her hands together with such enthusiasm that the sound echoes in your ears. “And you’re coming with me, sweetie!”
Your heart skips a beat. “Wait, Mom, I don’t think—” But before you can finish, she’s already scooped you up in one fluid motion, her fingers wrapping around your tiny body with ease. Her grip is firm but gentle, and for a moment, you’re suspended in the air, looking up at her towering figure.
“Oh, don’t be silly!” she says, her laughter filling the room as she tucks you into the pocket of her dress. The fabric envelops you, soft and warm, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating through it. The pocket is snug, but there’s enough room for you to peek out, though the view is mostly dominated by the sheer expanse of her thigh.
“Ready, set, go!” she sings, and before you can even think of protesting, she’s off, her bare feet slapping against the floor as she breaks into a jog. The movement sends a jolt through you, and you instinctively grab onto the edge of the pocket to steady yourself.
Each step she takes is like a mini earthquake, her enormous thigh muscles flexing and rippling beneath you. The pocket bounces with the rhythm of her stride, and you’re jostled around like a ragdoll, your tiny frame no match for the sheer power of her movement. Her dress swishes around her, the fabric brushing against your face as you cling to the pocket for dear life.
“Isn’t this fun?” she calls out, her voice bright and cheerful, completely oblivious to your discomfort. “I love running! It’s such a great way to clear my head!”
You try to respond, but the words get caught in your throat as she picks up the pace, her thighs working like pistons as she continues down the path. The pocket sways and bounces with each step, and you can feel the raw power of her body with every movement. Her thighs are like massive tree trunks, flexing and shifting beneath the fabric of her dress, and you can’t help but feel a mix of awe and humiliation at the sheer size difference between you.
“Mom, I—” you start, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of her footsteps and her humming, which grows louder as she continues to run.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” she says suddenly, her tone so casual it’s almost comical. “Can you hold onto this for me?” Without waiting for a response, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small keychain, dropping it into your lap. The sudden addition of weight throws off your balance, and you’re sent tumbling backward, landing in a heap at the bottom of the pocket.
The world around you is a blur of motion and sound, the rhythmic pounding of her footsteps and the swishing of her dress creating a chaotic symphony. You scramble to right yourself, your hands slipping on the fabric as the pocket continues to bounce and sway. The keychain digs into your side, but you barely have time to adjust it before she’s picking up speed again.
“Isn’t this amazing?” she asks, her voice filled with unbridled joy. “I feel so alive!”
You’re not sure what to say. On one hand, you’re terrified, your tiny body being tossed around like a leaf in a storm. But on the other hand, you can’t help but marvel at her energy, her confidence, her sheer size. She’s like a force of nature, unstoppable and uncontainable, and you’re just a tiny speck in her orbit.
“Mom, I think—” you try again, but your voice is lost as she suddenly veers off the path, her bare feet crunching against the gravel as she heads towards a small hill. The incline sends the pocket tilting forward, and you’re pressed against the fabric, your face squished against her thigh.
“Almost there!” she cheers, her breath labored but her enthusiasm undiminished. Her thighs flex as she pushes herself up the hill, and you can feel the muscles working beneath you, powerful and unrelenting. The pocket sways wildly, and you cling to the edge, your knuckles white with the effort of holding on.
Finally, she reaches the top of the hill, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. “Wow, that was intense!” she says, her voice filled with exhilaration. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
You manage to peek out of the pocket, your head spinning from the ordeal. “I’m… I’m okay,” you stammer, though your voice is barely audible over the sound of her breathing.
She smiles down at you, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Aww, you’re such a trooper!” she says, reaching into the pocket and giving you a gentle pat on the head. Her fingers are enormous compared to you, and the sensation is both comforting and humiliating.
“Ready to keep going?” she asks, her tone so cheerful it’s almost impossible to say no.
But before you can respond, she’s off again, her thighs flexing as she starts down the other side of the hill. The pocket bounces and sways, and you’re once again thrown into the chaos of her movement. Her laughter echoes around you, bright and carefree, and though you’re terrified, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of awe.
She’s so big, so powerful, and you’re just… you. A tiny, scrawny man, caught in the shadow of her enormous frame. And as she continues to run, her thighs working like pistons, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to keep up with her.
“Mom, I—” you start, but your voice is lost as she picks up speed, her stride lengthening as she pushes herself forward. The pocket sways wildly, and you’re thrown back, your tiny body no match for the sheer power of her movement.
She doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, her laughter ringing out as she continues to run. “Isn’t this fun?” she calls out, her voice filled with unbridled joy. “I feel so alive!”
You cling to the edge of the pocket, your heart pounding in your chest as you’re tossed around like a leaf in a storm. Her thighs flex beneath you, powerful and unrelenting, and you can’t help but marvel at the sheer size and strength of her body.
“Mom, I—” you try again, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of her footsteps and her humming, which grows louder as she continues to run.
She veers off the path again, her bare feet crunching against the gravel as she heads towards a small hill. The incline sends the pocket tilting forward, and you’re pressed against the fabric, your face squished against her thigh.
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