Before Jon had a chance to consider where the stone may have dropped out of his pants, he was blind-sided by a heavy blow to his side and knocked to the floor.
He felt a soft, cushiony chest pushing his side into the floor.
"C'mon, son...just like old times...how about a wrestle!" Art/mom shouted.
Jon was horrified. Art was obviously elated over his team's victory, and maybe a little tipsy. Jon had noticed lots of beer cans lying around Art's easy chair. Jon also remembered several times in the past, when Art was a younger man in the previous reality when he would start a wrestling match with Jon.
"You better humor your mother, Jon. You know she can't take no for an answer when she wants to compete with you at anything," Jon's father said.
"Yeah...come on you pussy...give it your best shot!" Art/mom exclaimed with a laugh as she pushed up and off Jon. "Don't act like a baby. I don't want to have to titty feed you again...I had enough of that with you and your sister and brother. I'm retired from that business. Now are you going to give your mom your best at wrestling or not?"
Jon looked up at Art's sweaty bald head and watched as his breasts rose and fell as he caught his breath. He couldn't bear to wrestle with his mother's body, but he knew Art well enough to know that he couldn't take no for an answer.
Maybe he could challenge him to some other sport.
But what should he choose?
