Don't worry, I'll make it all better.
CWs: Incest, Estrus (Heat)
You awake with a heat in your chest completely unlike anything you've ever felt before. You stumble out of bed, barely conscious except for the sensation of a roaring flame burning in your lungs, spreading itself across every inch of your body as if carried there by your own blood. Despite the burning, you can manage to pry open your eyes; They dart around the room as if searching for something, but you have no idea what.
"What... what's going on...?" You ask yourself, hunched over the side of your bed. Your bedroom feels dull and distant, blurry in a way you can't hope to describe to yourself. Even the texture of the blankets you've dug your fingernails into barely register when compared to the booming inferno that is the new feeling in your chest. Nothing like this has ever happened to you before, you wonder if you're sick, but you hardly feel like you're going to throw up.
Before you've had a chance to even realize what you're doing, your body lunges forward in a move entirely of its own accord. In a swift, desperate motion, you find yourself ripping one of your pillows, still warm from sleeping on it overnight, and jam it in between your legs. The moment the cushion is in position, your hips buck forward, rubbing themselves against it in a harsh, uneven motion.
At last, with your pillow pressed up against your groin, you find a small amount of relief, the heat in your chest cooled ever so slightly, but this moment of peace is fleeting and your body is swiftly consumed by the flames once more. Only when you grind your hips against the pillow once more does your body permit itself to move but as you do, another feeling entirely unknown to you surges up from between your thighs, a tingling that carries itself all the way up your spine and out of your mouth in the form of a whine.
With no other choice, you continue your endeavor, hardly considering what it is you're doing because of the panic and confusion that have gripped you. You desperately press yourself to think of some explanation for what's happening to you, but between the blaze in your chest and the tingling sparks driving and increasing number of whimpers out of your lungs until finally, you hear the door to your bedroom swing open. You whip your head around to see the silhouette of your mother standing in the doorway. "Sweetie, is something the matter?" She calls into the room, her hand searching the wall for the light switch. You open your mouth in a futile attempt to reply but all that you can muster is yet another in a long string of useless whimpers. After a moment, your mother manages to find the lights and turn them on, illuminating both the concerned look on her face and you, hunched pathetically over your pillow, still rubbing yourself against it.
"Oh... oh my..." Your mom's eyes widen with shock for a moment, then narrow into a look of recognition and understanding. "I see, that's what's going on. Here I was, worried you'd gotten yourself hurt after I heard all the whining. She steps forward into the room, placing a hand on your shoulder and in doing so, she tames the flames in your chest ever so slightly, finally clearing enough room in your head for your thoughts.
"M-mom?" You sputter out, panting heavily as if you'd just finished a prolonged sprint. "Wh-what's going on? What's wrong with me?" You reach out to her with a trembling, uncertain hand.
Your question brings a low chuckle out from your mother and paints a gentle smile on her lips. "Oh, honey, nothing's wrong with you. Every girl goes through this at some point, it's nothing to be ashamed of." She gently squeezes your arm as she talks. "In fact, when I was your age, I had it just as bad as you seem to."
"Wh-what do I do?" You beg, tears beginning to form in your eyes. Your chest aches from the heat within it, forming a phantom, squeezing pain around your heart that feels as thought it might stop it from beating at any moment. "P-please, I can't stand it, I need something to help!"
Your mother's lips drop into a frown. "Well, oh goodness... My mother always told me that the best solution is just to wait it out, even if it does hurt, you'll be okay in the end."
Again, your body acts of its own volition, throwing itself toward your mother as you cry out in pain. "No! I-I can't stand this! Please, is there a medicine or s-something? My chest hurts so bad, mom... Please..." The tears have truly begun to flow, now, both out of pain and desperation. There can't really be nothing you can do to stave off this awful, powerful flame that's been scorching your lungs, right?!
"I... well..." Your mother hesitates and her eyes dart to the left and right and she bites the bottom of her lips. "Oh, but I can't stand to just watch you suffer like this. Alright, I suppose I'm not really supposed to do this, but I do know one way to help with this feeling, just this one, alright?"
Entirely automatically, your head throws a repeating, emphatic nod toward her. "A-anything, mommy..." you plead.
"Alright," your mother smiles again, taking your hand. "Just take a seat over here and I'll make it all better, just for you, okay?" She guides you back to the side of your bed, sitting you down and placing herself right next to you. "Now, can I ask you to put down that pillow of yours?"
"A-alright..." It takes some force, as the flames in your body seem to demand you cling onto the pillow as tightly as you can, but you manage to discard it, letting it fall onto the floor.
"Good girl," your mother praises you, her smile growing brighter. "Okay, now to get to fixing your awful little problems..." In a slow, careful motion, she moves her hand down into your lap, before sliding it up until it grazes the waist band of your pajama pants. You open your mouth to say something, to ask her what she's doing, but before you can manage a single word she places a finger to your mouth and whispers a gentle hush to you.
Ever so delicate and ever so gentle, she reaches into your pants and pulls free the part of the body she's referred to as your "hen" in the past. The feeling of her hand grazing you sends that now-familiar tingle up your body, this time in a much smaller form that emerges only in the form of a soft gasp.
You raise your hand in feeble protest, remembering the times your mother had specifically told you not to let others touch that part of you. "M-mommy, wai-" You try to interject, only to cut yourself off with another involuntary whine as your mother wraps her hand around its length. Your hen throbs in her grip, and whatever resistance you might've been able to give is wiped away in a mere instant.
"Hush, dear," your mother insists, "your mommy knows exactly what she's doing, and this will make all those awful feelings that have been hurting you go away in an instant. I promise."
"I-I..." you try to make one last attempt at protest, but it falls just as limp as the others. "O-Okay, mommy..." you lower your head slightly, unsure if this really is the right thing to do, but likewise knowing that your mother has always seemed to know best in the past.
"Good girl." Her movements punctuated by her praise, your mother suddenly moves her grip up your length. Again, that tingling feeling rushes up your body, forcing its way out of your throat as an unrestrained moan. Egged on by your utterance, your mother works her hand back down before bringing it up once more, drawing forth yet another whine.
Very soon after that, it goes from just one motion at a time, to a slow yet steady rhythm of strokes along the length of your hen. All the while, you find yourself regressing into an endless fountain of whines as your mother coos and hums happily in reply.
Eventually, your mother grows more confident in her motions, speeding up the rhythm and, on occasion, grazing the tip with a swift rub of her thumb, creating another, even more intense jolt that causes your body to thrash aimlessly in response. Again and again, your mother strokes your hen, driving you further into the bounds of utter delight until she comes to a sudden, harsh stop when she notices the clear fluid that'd begun to leak from the tip.
"Oh, my..." Your mother giggles to herself. "You're right on the edge, aren't you? And so soon?"
You imagine you might've felt your cheeks flush at that statement, just given the tone in which she said it, but they're already so red that nothing really seems to change. "Edge of... wh-what?"
Again, your mother chuckles. "Oh, you'll see, sweetie. I'm just giving myself some time to... savor the moment, I suppose." She pauses for the moment, watching as the little droplets of liquid flow down onto her fingers. "Alright, I think it's time. I hope you're ready, dear..."
Without a moment's more notice, your mother begins again, rubbing you more forcefully and more rapidly than she'd ever done before, driving a renewed onslaught of feral gasps out of your throat, the tingling emanating from your groin reaching a powerful crescendo that finally drives you to your breaking point.
All at once, one final surge of pleasure ripples throughout your entire body, reaching up into your chest where it extinguishes the flames inside before spreading out into the tips of every one of your fingers and toes, creating twitches, thrashes, whines and moans all alike until finally, after what seems like ages, everything seems to cool down all and once, leaving you huddled against your mother, your arms wrapped around her as you shiver, overwhelmed.
Your faculties returning to you bit by bit, you cast your gaze back down to your hen, your mother's hand still wrapped around it, both the shaft and her hand soaked in a murky white liquid.
"There... wasn't that nice...?" Your mother coos, petting your hair with her free hand.
"Y-yes, mommy..." you choke out, still completely deprived of breath from whatever it was you just experienced.
"Good..." Your mother breathes a happy sigh. "That should make it all better, at least for a while..."
"Thank you, mommy..." you whisper, nuzzling into her eagerly. In this moment, you become harshly aware of something new about your mother; Her scent is different now than it's ever been before, or rather, it's become seemingly more intense, as if you've become attuned to it in some way.
Despite your mother's help, you can still feel the embers of the fire that once burned in your lungs, and on pure instinct you can tell they will reignite. What's more is that you've become certain of one other thing: When that flame reemerges, only your dear mother will be able to extinguish it. With that realization, you pull both your arms tighter around her, greedily huffing the scent of your mother... your mate, and feeling a confident peace in knowing she'll be there to help you... again and again.
