It was a lovely morning as the sun crested the horizon at Stedman Farms. Margaret Stedman looked out the main window of the kitchen as she sipped her morning coffee. It was late autumn, but it was still fairly warm out. This time of year it rarely dropped below 70 degrees Fahrenheit and even during the Texas winter, going below 60 was rare.
The recent rains had turned the farm grounds into a sticky, muddy mess. Normally that would create difficulty while working with horses and other animals, but there weren't many animals left on Stedman Farms. Very soon, there would be none at all. The metamorphosis of the estate was well underway and it was already serving a different purpose than raising animals and staple crops.
Margaret heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. They approached her from behind, work boots clomping on the hardwood floors. Soon, the arms of her husband slid around her and she smiled deeply. She spoke to him without turning.
"Good morning, Harold."
"Good morning, wife."
Harold planted gentle kisses on her neck as he felt her curves up and down. Margaret's cheeks grew red as he lavished her with attention. His hands felt wonderful through her frilly frock top and long cotton skirt. She rubbed her ass back on his body, her arousal increasing steadily.
"Someone's hungry this morning!" She turned to face her broad shouldered man. He was wearing his usual overalls and plaid shirt. A wide grin accompanied them. "Or should I say thirsty?"
"I'm always thirsty for you, wife."
"That's good, because..." she pointed down at the bulge poking from the outline of her skirt. "I reckon you need to take responsibility for this."
Harold lowered himself to his knees, only too eager to comply. Margaret pulled up her dress and her sizable cock flopped into view. She rarely wore panties anymore. Most of her underwear no longer fit and all it did was get in the way of her fun.
Her thick, musty phallus was at least twice as long as Harold's; a fact she loved to remind him with regularity. He placed his hands gently on her legs as his mouth met the tip of her fleshy weapon and he began to envelop it slowly. Margaret placed her hands on her hips, letting out a low moan as he began blowing her in earnest. The end of her skirt dropped over Harold and his head could be seen bobbing back and forth through the thin material.
So much had changed in the weeks since Sister Evelyn had visited the farm for the first time. In recent years their sex life had been boring at best and non-existent for long stretches. They were well into middle age, but the farm was barely keeping them afloat and the demands of their business had grown too much for them to bear. It had put a strain on their relationship, but everything had changed for the better since they entered their new arrangement with the Sisterhood.
Margaret had been shocked by her transformation, but it wasn't long before apprehension gave way to delight. In addition to buying the farm, the Sisterhood had agreed to let them remain as part-time caretakers and pay them a stipend that would be more than enough to live on. Harold, who had never shown an ounce of submissive inclination in his life, or even a tolerance for Margaret's attempts to spice things up in the bedroom, now couldn't go a day without sucking her dry.
She had discovered an intoxicating new authority, skyrocketing libido, and a husband who happily entertained her every sexual fantasy. It was a dream come true, even if it took a form she never would have imagined.
As Harold slid his mouth to the halfway point of her rapidly hardening erection, Margaret seized his head and began pressing herself deeper into his throat. With each sputter and gag she relented slightly, careful not to overwhelm her thirsty man-whore. Harold was a long way from being able to deep throat her to the base, but she would get him there eventually. All it would take is lots of practice.
"Hey mom! How long till breakfast?" a voice called down the stairs.
Margaret's eyes went wide and she froze. She hadn't realized Dylan was awake. Harold halted his ministrations and ducked out from under her skirt. He stood and wiped his saliva and pre-cum slick lips with his sleeve. He turned, relieved to see that Dylan hadn't come charging down the stairs as he so often did.
"Ummmm, give me fifteen minutes, then come down for eggs and toast!" Margaret yelled up the staircase.
"Alright!" came the reply, followed by the sound of Dylan's bedroom door closing.
Margaret breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to Harold.
"You hungry?"
"No, just thirsty" he replied sheepishly.
"Well, get out there and get the morning work done before Miss Evelyn arrives. If she or the other Sisters want to feed you, they have my permission."
"Yes, wife" Harold said, tipping an invisible hat before turning and heading for the door.
"It's Mistress now, Harry! You best get used it."
"Yes, Mistress!" he called over his shoulder with a chuckle.
Margaret grimaced as she watched him exit to the yard. She would need to get creative with some bondage and corporal punishment until Harold learned proper respect.
Within seconds she flew into Mom mode. She cracked open some eggs, poured them into a mixing bowl and whisked away. As she prepared breakfast, her thoughts turned to her son. She had no idea how Dylan would take the news once he learned of her transformation. It was the one worry still nagging her as life, in all other respects, had become carefree.
Like many young men his age, Dylan had graduated from college but hadn't yet found a good full-time position in two years of searching. Until now, he'd worked a series of odd jobs and helped out on the farm. He'd had a few girlfriends during that time, none of which Margaret liked very much. The last one almost convinced him to move to New York with her. Margaret would've hated that, but thankfully their relationship had ended.
She didn't want her beautiful boy to go far away. In truth, Margaret didn't like him seeing any woman that she didn't vet first. Maybe he didn't have to leave. Maybe he could stay on the farm with his family and the Sisterhood, where he belonged.
Her dreams had grown sexual and very intense on a nightly basis. In them, it wasn't just Harold that Margaret found herself dominating. She knew it was wrong. Or, whatever vestige of her old sense of morality that remained told her it was wrong, but she didn't care. The lust burned within her and she loved her son so very much.
Margaret dumped the bowl of whisked eggs into the frying pan. As it started to sizzle, she crossed the kitchen to her hanging purse. She dug around in it until she found one of the XL condoms she'd purchased at the sex store in town.
The well endowed matron moved back to the stove and started tending the eggs again. She chopped, stirred and scrambled them up until they were mostly cooked, then turned the heat down. She tore the condom open with lustful haste, reached below her skirt and slid the latex sheath over her stiffening cock. Her erection had flagged a bit while she cooked, but thinking of her dreams and what the future might hold for Dylan caused blood to rush back to her meaty rod.
She leaned against the counter and began stroking herself back and forth. She pictured Harold and Dylan both hogtied and gagged as she took turns fucking their slutty asses. She imagined Dylan being spit-roasted by two of the Sisters as she watched in rapture.
Her latex-wrapped monster throbbed as she worked her hand up and down feverishly. Within seconds, the point of no return was reached. She bit her tongue as her climax hit, half-moaning and gasping as viscous, creamy ejaculate rushed into the condom. The end of it ballooned with her copious ejections, a thick pocket of cum forming as she threw her head back and jacked herself to completion.
She rested only a few moments before realizing she was running out of time. Margaret turned, retrieved her spatula and stirred the eggs some more, making sure they were hot and ready. She scooped the eggs onto a plate and let them sit for a moment as she pulled the condom off her slowly deflating cock.
Margaret poured her semen carefully over the mounds of eggs until not a drop more could be wrung from the latex sheath. She retrieved a fork and began stirring and mashing the eggs up some more, hiding any visible trace of the secret ingredient. Her work complete, she moved to the trash and plunged the condom and its wrapper far into the garbage so the evidence wouldn't be visible.
"DYLAN! BREAKFAST IS READY! COME AND GET IT!"
Margaret set the plate on the table along with a fresh fork and a glass of orange juice. Seconds later she heard Dylan tromp down the stairs. Her pride and joy burst into view and he immediately sat down to eat. Thick brown hair, sparkling blue eyes; a young man any woman would be lucky to have as her own.
"Thanks Mom. I'm starving! Where's the toast?"
"Oh! I'm sorry!" She recoiled in embarrassment, moving quickly to grab the bread and throw some slices in the toaster. "Got a lot on my mind, I guess."
Dylan had a fork-load of eggs in his mouth as he replied. "No problem."
She crossed her arms below her breasts, watching him eat in silence. It wasn't long before her mind wandered into carnal territory again. Her impulses turned licentious and she was powerless to stop them. Her heartbeat quickened and her face went flush. As she watched her son devour his breakfast, she knew that all would be right with the world very soon.
"Wow! These taste even better than usual! What did you put in them?"
Margaret smiled, her eyes beaming at her only child. "Nothin but love, darlin."
* * * * *
The shiny rubber of Jessica's latex habit creaked and stretched as she strode down the convent hall. She entered the administrative section of the main building and passed the office that had once belonged to Helen. It was hers now and the nameplate on the desk read "Mistress Superior - Jessica F. Christiano."
The glossy latex of her new outfit felt immaculate on her skin. Rather than a robe that flowed to her feet, the clingy rubber ended in a short skirt. It was cut just low enough to hide her impressive appendage, but not the bulge it created. Jessica had taken to wearing no undergarments. The tight rubber on her breasts, ass and cock kept her in a near constant state of arousal. Her gleaming black boots traced her legs nicely, the latex climbing to just above her knees.
