Chapter 2: Execute Pt.1of 3

Part 1 of 3

The day after with clever editing and a generous amount of planning he decided to leave the camera on its stand in her room, with the altered footage. When she woke, sore in places she didn’t remember straining, her memory of the night before completely erased or unavailable to summon upon, she noticed the camera with a grim start and called out for Hassan as loudly as she could, his own gait and bodily movements showing off his own soreness as, as he began with “Yes gran...”, before he saw the camera and asked hurriedly “why is there a camera set up in your room grandma?”, as possible erotic scenarios seemed to flood his mind, his cheeks taking on a red tinge of embarrassment for her as Fatima’s sleep-filled gaze searched his face for answers finding none only honest shock at the implications of what the camera could bring “have you...”, he began almost stuttering “have you looked and seen if it captured anything?” He said innocently, knowing the same thought was on both their minds and Fatima got up from her bed, dressed in a black semi-transparent robe she didn’t remember donning, as she grabbed a more modest bathrobe from her cupboard and pulled in on over it.

With a trembling hand she unfolded the flap on its side a miniature screen displaying an almost full battery and a single file she played with unmuted volume so she might find the root of this. Instead she found only a solid lump forming in her throat as she watched herself setup the camera, her gaze glassy, her movements sluggish recognising her childhood ailment of sleepwalking haunt her anew as an adult as she motioned Hassan in a similar almost zombified state, to lay down on the bed, as she proceeded to straddle him in the same revealing lace robe she now wore concealed the bathrobe.

The expression on her face said more than any words could allow as Hassan asked “grandma are you okay?”, he said with a note of genuine concern, hearing her speak at first nonsensically on the digital camcorders speakers before she muted it as she watched herself unwittingly committing a heinous act of haram on her equally vulnerable and unknowing grandson, who she’d raised from an infant.

Fatima sat down on the bed heavily, the footage playing out before her like a silent film of her darkest nightmares come to life. The camera had captured everything in high definition, every twitch of her body, every moan of pleasure, every slap of skin on skin. The evidence was irrefutable, and the realization of what she had done while sleeping was a crushing weight on her chest.

When Hassan finally managed to steel himself to view the footage the first thing he uttered was “are you okay?”, which almost irrevocably broke her heart just then and there as he sat next to her, cradling her trembling form in his arms.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice thick with tears as she watched the scene unfold in her mind, replaying the events she’d just witnessed. It was as if she was observing a different person, someone who looked like her, moved like her, but couldn’t possibly be her. The Fatima she knew was a devout wife and grandmother, not a woman who would indulge in such a vile act with her own flesh and blood.

“But I’ve read about this, people who suffer sleepwalking don’t do crazy things like in the movies, they just wander round abit then they either lead themselves or are led back to their beds before anything serious happens except in extreme circumstances. Have you always sleepwalked or maybe it only comes back when grandfather is away?”, he prompted “did you have it during childhood when your parents went away for long periods?”, he prompted with genuine concern, as he put her before his own wellbeing, another act of kindness that almost threatened to overwhelm her emotionally.

Fatima felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she watched herself perform the unspeakable act with such apparent willingness in her mind. She had always been a heavy sleeper, but this was beyond anything she had ever experienced. “It ... it used to happen when I was young,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it stopped when I got married to your grandfather. I thought it was just something I had grown out of.”

Fatima’s heart raced as she grappled with the reality of what she had seen. The room spun around her, the walls closing in as the gravity of the situation settled in her stomach like a lead weight. She couldn’t believe what her own body had done while her mind was lost to the realm of sleep. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of guilt, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome arousal that she couldn’t ignore.

“Did anything specific trigger these “lapses” for lack of a better word, maybe your parents fighting and one of them leaving or a conflict in the region drawing them in, one that might affect their lives?”, he asked as he held her tightly.

Fatima searched her memories, trying to find a pattern, a reason for her actions. “I ... I don’t remember much about that time,” she said, her voice shaking. “But there was always tension between my parents, and they often had to leave to deal with family matters.”

“In this case then”, Hassan began “could grandfather’s leaving although temporary have made you regress to that state, except now as a grown woman it’s developed from typical sleepwalking, to the lesser known “sexsomnia”, where those who fall into this similar suggestive state commit acts more “explicit”, than they would ever commit normally as themselves because their trying to satisfy some psychological need their not wholly aware of?”, he said powering through “which I know is allot to take but honestly grandma that’s not you, it may ... walk and talk like you”, he said with a sincere determination showing on his face and tone “but seeing how it’s affected you, how you are right now, I know you’d never even try to hurt me like that”, he said, kissing the back of her head, still wrapped in the semi transparent fabric of the black lace hijab.

Fatima took in his words, feeling the warmth of his body, the comfort of his embrace, and the truth of his statement. It wasn’t her, not the woman she knew herself to be, but something deep within her she only understood now had awakened, something primal and insatiable. The guilt and confusion swirled within her, a tornado of emotions that she didn’t know how to navigate.

“What we need is to make sure we both feel safe enough to sleep in our own beds again, from what I saw, I was also in my own state of ... whatever that was”, he said with his own confused tone matched only by his expression. “If we both allowed this ... whatever it is ... to take over at night it must be because we’re not fulfilling some type of need during the day, as bad as that sounds. What’s worse I can only think of one sure solution to fixing it, if it’s true but you won’t like it”, he said with a deepening look of concern.

Fatima looked at him, her eyes swollen from crying, her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and fear of what he might suggest. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Well this...”, he gestured to the camera and the recording within “came from a place where a specific need wasn’t met, but what if it was and we could actually justify whatever we had to do, to ultimately get rid of the possibility of this ever happening again?”, he asked honestly, his eyes searching hers for understanding.

Fatima’s mind raced as she tried to understand what he was getting at, the implications of his words slowly sinking in. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I’m saying I don’t want the very real, possibility of waking up to your cold corpse laid strewn over me after a night of unbridled passion you’re not used to, exerting your heart beyond its means at your age and me trying to explain to grandfather why your dead, as a result of it and how it happened, even though I’ll have no recollection of the event at all”, he said, his tone a mixture of sadness Fatima felt seep into her bones and the cold honest truth it might exactly happen as he said it could.

Fatima took a deep breath, the gravity of his words weighing on her heavily. “What are you suggesting, Hassan?” she asked, her voice shaking with fear and anticipation.

“The only thing you seemed to want on the recording was ... intimacy...” he said obviously trying to pick his words carefully “if we ... share this intimacy ... whilst were awake you might not crave it or act on the impulse ... and in all honesty as uncomfortable as it makes me, the idea of you cheating on grandfather with another partner to get the same result is not something I think you’d allow yourself to be forced into, if I can agree to help you”, he said, his discomfort obvious, as his intentions to help her however clumsy, shone through the abysmal idea set before her.

Fatima looked at him with a mix of horror and hope, the possibility of such a twisted solution never crossing her mind. Yet, the fear of losing control again, of doing something so unforgivable, was a spectre that loomed large in her thoughts, along with the possibility of her untimely death if her midnight excursions were allowed to go unchecked.

“Honestly if we leave this ... idea ... unattended I remember reading that worst case scenarios amongst normal sleepwalkers involved gruesome retelling of walking headlong into traffic or even walking off bridges in some very rare cases, almost killing the persons involved. For someone suffering sleepwalking progressing to this...”, he indicated to the camera and the recording within again “it might only get worse even after grandfather returns. Does he know you sleepwalk ... like this?”, he asked curiously but with an edge of fear in his voice.

Fatima’s eyes grew wide at the thought, she hadn’t even considered the possibility of her condition spiralling out of control like that, and the thought of losing her life due to something she had no control over was utterly terrifying. “No, he doesn’t,” she murmured, the implications of his words resonating deep within her. “I’ve never told anyone, I was too embarrassed and thought it would go away.”

“Well for lack of better alternatives grandma, on such short notice, we might be left with only the one option before it gets too late for even that”, he said indicating at his wristwatch “whatever we did however many times we did it, left us so drained we slept in late to recover, its three in the afternoon, not the early morning like I first thought it was, did you notice?”, he asked her gauging her response.

Fatima’s eyes shot wide open with panic, she had indeed noticed the sun outside the windows was in a place she hadn’t seen it in a long time. “What do we do?” she asked him desperately.

“Plainly put grandma sex, as discomforting as even the idea is, physically we both need to take responsibility for this before it spirals any further”, he said seriously, his face a plain, readable map, his only wish to help her as she recalled with a look of horror on her face the full, monstrous length and girth of his physical endowment coming into focus like a crystallized image in her mind from the digital recorder, shuddering internally at the thought before she said her piece.

Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit or malicious intent, but all she saw was a deep-seated concern for her well-being. “How can we do that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Right here”, he said as he gestured to the bed, the sheets were clean despite their activity, Fatima figured she’d just washed them in her sleep, which didn’t seem all that odd considering her current condition.

With trembling hands, Fatima reached for the ties of her bathrobe, the fabric fell away revealing the still clinging black lace beneath. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears.

“Neither do I, but I rather try and fail than wonder if I’m going to wake up tomorrow with one less grandparent”, he said bluntly, taking the lead as he undressed before her, his own trepidation and nervousness clear despite his firmness.

Fatima took a shaky breath, her trembling hands following suit. The lace fell away, revealing her still naked body. The same body that had unknowingly taken pleasure from his last night.

Hassan’s gaze followed the fabric, his eyes lingering on her bare skin. He thanked himself internally for such a cunning ploy, having her record herself setting everything up, even walking his “sleepwalking” form into her room only to bed him with a hunger previously unknown even to her.

Fatima on the other hand, felt disgusted with both herself and the position he’d put her grandson in, as they both got into bed. “What em ... what position should start it, this could take a few tries to be sure grandma, so we can mirror what you see “expressed” on the recording”, he said carefully choosing his words through his expertly conveyed embarrassment.

Fatima swallowed hard, her cheeks burning with a mix of shame and fear. “Just ... just do what you did before,” she managed to say, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Erm ... then you need to get on top of me if I remember well”, he said hesitantly, as he lay down. “We’ll I don’t think we need to follow the recording faithfully, just the “spirit”, of it for lack of a better word. I just want to let you know grandma that I love you and the fact that you’re willing to go so far to protect us from the possibility that this could always get worse”, he said “and even though I was a virgin on the recording this’ll be the actual first time I’ll be doing it knowingly”, he said in a moment of feigned introspection as Fatima reeled mentally in shock at the realization that she’d also deflowered her own grandson, even though it was under dubious circumstances.

“And finally, from what I saw on the camera I didn’t em “demonstrate” allot of self control, I looked and acted particularly em “ravenous”, which I hope I’m not, but I don’t actually know either so it might happen again whether I’m aware of it or not, so you’re going to have to be my compass here, in case it gets too out of control. From what I saw though, neither of us could help ourselves”, he said with a ring of doubt in his words to his resolve as Fatima empathised, feeling her heart swell with a mix of love and fear for the innocent young man who was willing to go to such lengths to protect them both from any more unknown night time rendezvous.

“Just know that I love you grandma, whatever happens”, he said honestly, as she climbed onto the bed, her knees on either side of his hips, “I wouldn’t be comfortable with forcing my way into you grandma, you could guide me in yourself instead, unless you don’t think it matters”, he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Fatima looked at him, her heart aching with a mix of love and disgust at the situation. She reached down, her hand trembling as she took hold of his erection, guiding it to her entrance. She felt a mix of revulsion and arousal as she lowered herself onto him, the same instrument that had brought her so much pleasure the night before and now damning guilt beyond all else.

The head by itself was huge, let alone the veiny shaft that followed beyond it, the tip of his organ reaching far enough to dip into her belly button starting from her parting, delicate folds, as she took a deep breath, she felt him at the entrance of her core, the heat of his manhood against her clit causing her to shiver involuntarily.

With a tremble she pushed herself down, feeling the thickness stretch her wide open, her eyes watering with the mix of pain and the strange, unwelcome pleasure it brought with it, she felt herself impaled fully on him. Gazing down she was in reality only just roughly past the quarter point enveloping the bulbous head.

She took a shaky breath and pushed down further, feeling the weight of his cock fill her completely, the stretch and burn was exacerbated by the lack of any kind of lubrication, she felt herself stretch and accommodate, her eyes never leaving his.

Now barely past the halfway point, she felt herself give. Within the tight constraints of her body, his size was unyielding and she had to admit, that even though she was in pain, her body was responding to his, she felt strange warmth spread through her abdomen, her mind fogging over with a need she didn’t quite understand.

She knew from this point on she’d need to work to take him whole and begin adjusting to his size, but the pain was too much, she felt her body quivering with the effort. “It’s okay grandma, we can take this slow”, he said, his voice strained with his own arousal and fear of hurting her.

He reached up, his hands resting on her waist, his thumbs brushing the soft flesh of her hips as he gently encouraged her to move. Fatima took a deep breath and began to rock back and forth, her eyes squeezed shut as she took his length inch by inch, feeling her body stretch and mould around him.

He couldn’t believe this was working, her every waking nerve reacting to his, as she looked down at him with a look of gratefulness and love, a stark contrast to the horror she had held just moments before. “We can go slow, I’m not going anywhere, grandma”, he reassured her, placing a hand to her cheek to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped the corner of her eye.

“As odd as it sounds maybe if we started kissing too like we did in the video, it might speed things up, we can never know until we try”, he suggested, his voice a comforting murmur against her racing thoughts.