Chapter 1

Mrs. Iris Moore opened the front door of her lavish home to find a strange small statue sitting on her entryway table. Frowning as she put down her purse, she noted that the object seemed to be an old black and gold idol of a woman with cow horns and some sort of round disc between them. Figuring that her husband had left it there for her to find, she picked it up to examine it more closely, but as she touched it, she felt a strange but pleasurable warmth rise up her arms. When it reached her chest she gasped as the nipples of her D-cup breasts became very hard. As the warmth spread downward, she felt an odd twinge off to the side of her lower midsection. A moment later, she could feel her vagina throbbing with need. Then the warmth rose up past her neck and the brown-haired mother found it very hard to concentrate on anything but the overwhelming need for cock. She had never felt like this in all of her 40 years!

“Oh God...” she moaned as she placed the statue back onto the table. “What’s happening?” She reached up to caress her breasts, which somehow felt even bigger all of a sudden.

“God is correct, or a god, anyway ... that would be the blessing of Hathor, Mrs. Moore,” a man’s accented voice called out from the shadows of her living room. The fear she should have felt upon discovering an intruder in her home was overshadowed by the joy of knowing a man was near who could fulfill her needs!

“W--who...?” she managed to get out. She wanted to rush this man, to tear his clothes off without even seeing what he looked like ... but she was married! She stayed where she was, though she shook from the effort.

He stepped into the entryway, Middle Eastern, about her age, with dark skin and a bald head. He was pretty nondescript otherwise, with his medium build and height and dressed in a gray suit. Still, she wanted him! She closed her eyes and took deep breaths.

“My name is unimportant, Mrs. Moore, but you can call me Armin.” He looked thoughtful. “Yes, I think Armin suits me. Come with me to your bedroom.”

“Ohhyess...” she moaned and followed him up the ornate stairwell. She knew what happened in bedrooms!

“Remove your clothing and lay on the bed,” he commanded her, and she quickly followed his instructions. First her knee-length skirt, then her soaked underwear fell to the floor. She tilted her hips in a seductive pose as Armin sat in a chair in a corner of the room to watch, his dark eyes filling her with both dread and anticipation as he steepled his fingers.

Iris shrugged her suit jacket off and fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. As she became frustrated at her lack of progress, she finally ripped two of them off. She reached back and unfastened her bra, which then sprang free from its nearly failed duty to keep her somehow larger breasts in check. She moaned at the instant feeling of relief.

“Magnificent,” Armin commented, and her already rosy cheeks got a little redder at the compliment.

She climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, doing her best to entice him to join her, her husband long forgotten. All that mattered was this man’s cock inside her! “Are you going to...?” She couldn’t say it.

“Fuck you? No.”

She heard a moan of frustrated despair before realizing that it had come from her own mouth. “But ... why?”

He leaned forward in his chair. “Alas, I am useless to you. I was a serial rapist in my country, and when they caught me they removed that which makes me a man.” He looked wistfully down at his lap.

“But ... but...” she whimpered. Her body felt like it was going to explode without relief!

The man put a finger to his ear. Iris hadn’t noticed the small device there. “Ah, your savior has arrived, just on time.” He pulled out and unfolded a small tablet. “Shall we watch?” He placed the small screen on the table next to him so she could see as well.

It showed her house’s entryway! She was about to say something about privacy when the door on the video feed opened. Iris had fully expected her husband to walk in, but it was her son, Ricky -- no, she remembered, he preferred Rick now that he was 20 years old and in college.

“Ssh...” the man put a finger to his lips as Rick noticed the statuette and went to pick it up.

Iris wanted to scream out for Rick to run, but could only watch as her handsome son, looking so much like his father at that age, looked confused as Hathor’s blessing rushed through his strapping, soccer-honed body.

The man folded up the tablet and tucked it away. “I have no penis, Mrs. Moore, but you know who does. I’m sure your son will ... assist you.” Then he slipped out of her room, heading further down the hallway and away from the stairs.

“Mom?”

Iris heard her son call out from downstairs. She couldn’t ... she shouldn’t ... She thought about using her phone to call 911, but she had left her purse downstairs! She moaned in frustration.

“Mom?”

He was closer now, coming up the stairs toward the bedrooms. Her mind thought about her fit son and the bulge that she sometimes saw between his legs in those tight jeans he wore. Not that she had been trying to look! Her pussy gave her an affirming throb at the memory.

Then he was outside of her bedroom looking in. “Mom? Oh wow.”

She looked at him in horror and yearning, her eyes dropping to his crotch. She could see his member was straining at the denim. She wondered how big it was.

He stepped into the bedroom. “Why’re you naked, Mom?” She could feel his eyes roaming her curvaceous body with insistent hunger. “Um, there was this weird statue thing, and now I...” He pointed to his crotch, but her eyes had never left it.

“Come here, honey ... I’ll help.” Had she said that? It sounded like her voice. All that mattered was that hunk of man meat was approaching her naked form.

Rick unfastened his jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear. Iris took in a quick breath. Her boy was at least 7 inches long, and thick!

“It’s never been this big before, Mom ... it aches. What’s going on?”