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.
