Mother’s Day. It always crept up on you when you least suspected it, and sprang up like hearing news of a dead relative. Fifty bucks for a dozen roses would’ve been highway robbery on any other day, but it was apparently such a steal that the whole town cashed in while I wasn’t looking. I stared at the mouths of empty buckets dotted with scattered petals as regret rolled around in my stomach like a bowling ball with a backspin. 
“Mom’s gonna kill me,” I thought, already picturing her scowling face as she stormed away from a distinctly vacant dining room table come tomorrow morning.
“Excuse me, do you guys have any more flowers left?”
The employee empathized with a frown before shaking his head. “‘Fraid not, son, you just missed it. Last bouquet just walked out the door right ‘fore y’came in, sorry t’say.”
I clenched my jaw as I silently cursed to myself with his voice tumbling around in my head. The guy walking toward his truck was clutching an arm full of red roses, the bundle crinkled loudly within its plastic. He wasn’t interested in wrinkled bills from a desperate kid, and even after throwing in a whole summer of mowing his lawn, he simply shut the door and drove off. The afternoon air was cold and crisp despite being well into spring, and I sat on the curb as my mind tortured itself with every swear a young boy could dream up. My shoes scraped against the concrete as I stood up, and I kicked a pebble along as I walked down the street. 
“You had the whole weekend you idiot,” I mumbled to myself.
The stone rattled ahead. Spending days hunched over in front of the television set while aliens blasted one another into green goo suddenly felt like an intense blunder.
“Idiot!” I shouted, repeating the word as if I were my own drill sergeant. 
My leg reeled back before hurling my foot forward and snapping the rock into the air with such force that it ricocheted off of a metal pole. It careened into another direction, knocking against a wooden doghouse in front of someone’s yard, and drew my daft attention to the red and yellow tulips beside it. I swallowed the growing knot in my throat as the flowers swayed innocently in the breeze. They looked like rows of little strawberries and lemons.
I stood there, wide eyed and silent, before my head turned to look over one shoulder and the other, not knowing whether this was a gift from someone up above, or a trap. The saliva in my mouth went down with a gulp before the chain link fence chimed beneath the weight of my hands.
“Maybe just a couple,” I said to myself, already hoisting one leg over as the metal fence continued to rattle.
Even the grass in their yard was immaculate as the first of my feet sank into the rich, green surface like I were stepping onto a blanket. It crunched softly beneath my shoes as I deftly tiptoed across and eagerly closed the distance toward the flower beds, smelling the sharp aroma of a freshly mowed lawn.
Grrr.
The sound was almost undetectable at first.
Grrr.
Then the gurgly rumble emerging from within the cramped interior of the doghouse made itself more frightfully known. I turned my head, slowly at first, toward the direction of the noise and already were my hairs standing on end as dread wormed its way through me.
“Easy, boy,” I whispered, moving backwards as slowly as I was able. “I-I was just admiring y-your, uh-”
Grrr.
I paused. While fear traveled quickly from the instinctual regions of my brain, it would’ve been surprised to learn that desperation had long already made itself home, and the two competed with one another as I stared at the German Shepherd stepping purposefully out of its small abode. My hand moved on its own.
Snatching at the narrow stems of a few flowers, I reeled my arm back and began lunging for the fence before my whole body was almost thrown backward by my clenched fist. I nearly clotheslined myself attempting to tear the tulips from the ground, and with a now barking and leaping hound after me, I purposefully willed my fingers to release their grip before throwing myself at the chainlink fence.
Roaw, roaw, roaw, roaw, roaw!
The hound barked and snapped at me before I was even able to hurl myself to the ground on the opposite side, and I could feel the front of its teeth nip at some part of me. Not stopping to see if it was able to clear the fence after me, I ran as hard as my feet could strike the pavement, and I could hear the clattering of a screen door well behind me by the time I rounded the street corner. 
Cold air filled my lungs as I panted and wheezed, clutching my knees for support as I caught my breath. Running my hand along my pants, I realized the dog nearly ripped a hole through them, and I fingered the small tear. Worse still, I could feel a trickle along my neck as I must’ve somehow cut myself climbing over the chainlink fence. A sigh escaped me as I looked at the red glisten of my fingertips.
Hopelessness hung over me like my own personal raincloud for several blocks before the perfumed smell of incense wafted past my eyes and nose, causing the former to burn and the latter to run. A small shop was dwarfed by the two buildings flanking it on either side, like a wrinkly, old man seated between two athletes on a bus. 
“Palace of Auspicious Wonder,” I mumbled the bold words to myself, lowering my gaze to the sun bleached posters stuck to the windows. “Find the compass to inner desire?”
The obnoxious incense continued to puff all about me as the mismatched gears slowly turned in my head.
“Better than nothing, I guess.”

The bell above me rang as I opened the door, and I nearly bumped into a shelf full of porcelain cats as I blundered through the dim interior of the stuffy boutique. It was nearly pitch black compared to the sunny outside, and the miasma of incense was far more intense now that it had me fully in its swirling embrace. I slowly turned a small, wooden box over each end before lifting it to my ear, and it chimed softly before I placed it back down in disappointment. It was beginning to dawn on me that Mom would know her son simply dipped into a random shop to get her something on the way home, and these kitschy, Oriental paperweights seemed far less like a good idea the longer that thought sat in my mind.
“Can I help you find what you seek?”
“Ah!” I gasped, recoiling away from the sudden sound of someone’s voice. “Jeez, y-you scared the-”
“Watch it,” the old man chided in a sing-song note.
Several glassy trinkets clinked behind me as I stood frozen in terror, not by the startling news that I wasn’t alone, but by the very real chance that something expensive could’ve broken. Only when the menacing rattle of something pricey finally quieted did I dare to steal a lungful of smoky air.
“Close one,” he said again, moving around me with his attention fixated on the items above. “You nearly freed them.”
“U-uh, sorry about that,” I mumbled.
“Oh you would be, and me, too!” he added hastily.
I watched as his hands drifted in the air in front of the various dragon statues and glass orbs as he took quick account of it all before I cleared my throat. “Look, I uh, I was maybe thinking of uh-”
“You are searching for something,” he interrupted.
“Y-yeah, a gift, maybe. For my mom.”
“For Mother’s Day,” he slowly drawled as he disappeared behind one aisle before reemerging behind another. 
“Yeah but, uh, I’m sorry, I’m not sure if she’d, uh-”
“Every mother deserves a gift.”
I hummed, letting my sentence die on my tongue as the embarrassment accompanying a thoughtless son began to coalesce once more. “We don’t uh, really have this kind of stuff in our house,” I admitted reluctantly before growing more resigned. “I just don’t want her to think I just got her something random.”
The Asian man’s wrinkled eyes narrowed before he adjusted his glasses. His wispy, gray hairs caught the scant light coming in through the windows that cast dusty, white shafts sideways through the dark shop. Age-old particles floated listlessly about in the air, and he hummed as his concentration seemed to falter for a moment. His head drifted to one direction before he disappeared behind the counter.
I stood there anxiously eyeing the various statuettes and colorful Buddhas that lined the shelves beyond the counter, wondering how much I could lessen the blow of an angry mother were I to get her a porcelain cat or two. The sounds of small boxes being tossed and shoved about as one scraped along the ground before another could be heard, and I had just about summoned the courage to depart when the old man suddenly appeared from behind the counter.
“And a hardworking mother deserves a worthy tribute,” he announced as he hoisted a moderately sized wooden chest onto the counter between us.
It landed with a dusty thump before the dark, wooden surface compelled my eyes to survey it from every angle. 
“Wh-what is it?”
He undid the latch on his side before carefully lifting the lid, and I craned my head to see within before his hands slowly descended into the box and reemerged with a small statue in his gnarled fingers.
“A monkey?” I croaked. 
“Not a monkey. An imp.”
It looked poorly carved, like some hermit with a chisel and an afternoon made the thing out of an unidentifiable, black rock. 
“What’s that?” I asked again, staring at the small, grimacing figure as he held it to me.
The material shimmered with a menacing but perplexing quality, and while the creature was ugly and stout, it seemed almost funny in a way. The strange critter was frozen in a squatting position with its sharply toothed maw agape in a silent howl with its nostrils flared and its beady, little eyes bulging out of its sockets. Still, it was unsettling.
“One who works their hands to the bone could perhaps use another pair, hm?”
I shrugged and nodded in agreement.
“This statue will bring great vitality to your home, and should a doting mother find herself at her wit’s end, she will be thankful for the spirit’s vigor.”
“This thing’s haunted?” I asked flatly in perturbed disbelief.
“An energy dwells within this statue and can sometimes even emerge.”
“Uh, look, I uh, don’t really want to give my mom this creepy, haunted thing for Mother’s Day,” I began, scarcely even believing such superstitious nonsense. “No offense, but it’s kind of, well, ugly.”
The old man grunted in surprise before attempting to cover the figurine’s ears.
“Aiya!” he grumbled. “You watch your tongue. It can hear you when you speak ill of it.”
I sighed as I winced at the little thing, watching it be placed carefully back into the box.
“Now you must take it.”
“Huh!?” I exclaimed.
“You must atone for your rudeness.”
“I-I wasn’t rude to you!”
He shook his balding head. “Not me, to him,” he said, pushing the box slightly toward me. 
I grimaced as I looked at the chest. “Look, I-I doubt I can even afford this thing even if I wanted a creepy, little-”
“You will find that this sort of treasure can be priceless, and if you only knew from where it came, you would not be so quick to-”
“I-I only have fifty bucks-”
“Good enough.”
I groaned before fishing into my pockets for my velcro wallet.

The old man held the door open for me with a wide, chipper grin across his wrinkled face, and I grunted, hissed, and cursed to myself while carrying the chest. 
“Oh, and one more thing!” he began as I awkwardly turned around to face him as best as I could. “Make sure that you never ever leave an offering to it of any kind.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered to him over the bulk of the wooden chest.
He now wore a more serious look on his features as he spoke. “Not only will an offering empower it, the spirit may lose sight of its task; it can become distracted, even sow chaos in your home! And when a spirit is loose it may even bring more ill-tempered beings with it into this world.”
“Right,” I groaned, struggling to keep the heavy luggage aloft. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
He seemed to hum in approval before cleaning his glasses and reentering his shop, and I was left to the task of carrying the damn thing all the way home.
“Stupid, heavy chest,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Stupid, heavy spirit. This better be worth it.”
I nearly toppled forward as I slammed the chest onto the floor of our house, and I was exhausted, panting chestfuls of air as Mom appeared from the doorway to the kitchen.
“Honey? What is that?” she asked while removing her earrings.
“Present,” I gasped. “Mother’s Day.”
Her big, brown eyes lit up as she smiled. “Oh!”
The skirt of her dress billowed and her tall heels clacked noisily against the tiles of the foyer before she brushed a manicured hand along the top surface, inspecting the dust on her fingertips. 
“Where did you even get this thing?” she asked wryly. “It looks a thousand years old.”
Finally managing to catch my breath, I stood up and reached over the lid before undoing the brass latch and pulling the chest open.
“Got it at a weird, old, Chinese shop down the street,” I said, speaking aloud before my brain could keep up. “Uh, it came highly recommended for Mother’s Day.”
“Really?”
The two of us stood there and looked at the small statue between us for a moment, observing it as it lay nestled in its wrinkled, silk recess.
“It looks, um, expensive,” she began tentatively. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was less than enthusiastic about the gift, but was almost equally intrigued. “I hope you didn’t have to spend a lot to get this.”
I wanted to know if she meant that as in the statue looked cheap, or if she was worried her son spent all his allowance for a gift, but instead I spoke again before my mind could catch up with my mouth. “I uh, didn’t want to just get you something boring like flowers for Mother’s Day.”
“But I like flowers,” Mom mumbled to herself.
“The guy said this was like a benevolent spirit, and that having it in our home brought good luck, or something.”
She looked at me as she leaned against one leg, putting her weight on one of her wide hips, with arms crossed. “You mean you don’t know.”
“N-no, I uh, I know it’s a good luck thing, uh, and I mean a lot of good luck, um-”
“Well I suppose you didn’t keep the receipt,” she sighed, preparing to resign herself to place the ugly thing her son bought her somewhere in the house.
Embarrassment burned at my ears as I stared at the grimacing figure at my feet, but Mom placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you for the gift, Sweetheart. I suppose it is more thoughtful than just flowers.”
I shrugged sheepishly before she pulled me in for a hug, and as I wrapped my arms around her I exhaled slowly, feeling the warm surface of my mother’s curveceous body pressed against me. Her spring dress was about knee-length, and had a flowery pattern on the fabric that clung to her plush, hourglass frame, and I caught myself humming quietly in delight as she placed a loud, wet kiss against my forehead. Her smooth, tanned skin glowed in the afternoon sunlight coming through the living room windows, and her wavy, brown hair reminded me of luxurious blankets and pillows that framed her kind but intimidatingly attractive features. The expression on her face suddenly wilted into one of concern, and she clicked her tongue in surprise.
“What’s this, Honey?” she purred, pulling my head to one side to inspect her son. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I groaned in mild annoyance.
Her heels clacked noisily against the tiles once more as she went to fetch a bandaid. “I’ll be right back, wait just a second.”
I watched her skirt flow briskly around her long legs before she drew closer to one of the windows, and just for a split second, faster than even a fluttering heartbeat, the interior of her flowery dress was illuminated by the sunlight, revealing the shape of her nude body underneath. My heart slammed against my chest.
“Woah,” I whispered silently, with my mouth agape.
Blood rushed swiftly to various parts of me, and I was reminded immediately of what a bombshell Mom is. I mean I knew it already, but it was entirely something else to see it like that. I eagerly licked my lips before busying myself with the task of looking around for the right place to put her gift.
Picture frames of us and other relatives, old books, and various baubles already lined every flat surface of the living room tables and shelves. It was hard to see where exactly it would belong, if in fact an ugly, little statue even could find a place in our home. Mom’s footsteps loudly announced her return, and I soon felt the burning sting of antiseptic on my neck before a bandaid.
“There, that should do it,” she said, satisfied. 
My head was still pulled to one side so she could inspect it as I spoke. “You know where you wanna put it? The statue, I mean.”
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe it could go right over there?”
I turned to follow the direction she gestured with my eyes, and I could see a lonely, carpeted corner near the dining room table that could work. The small statue was heavier than I thought, and as I placed it on the carpet, I noticed that it was directly facing the hallway that led right to Mom’s bedroom door. 
A sharp exhale from my nose in amusement made her raise an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just that it looks like it’s pointed right at your room, is all.”
She smiled in equally dismissive amusement. “Maybe I’ll wake up and see it standing at the foot of my bed.”
“You don’t think it’s even a little creepy?” I asked suddenly.
She tilted her head slightly, causing a lock of her hair to fall from her shoulder. “Honey, if you think this is creepy, you should see some of the macaroni art you made me when you were little. This is nothing compared to those things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I hummed, smiling sheepishly.
“Plus, a lot of these weird, little, Oriental things look strange, but they always say it’s just to scare off evil spirits.”
I stared at the diminutive figure as I spoke. “Yeah, maybe. ‘Cept this thing looks like one of the evil spirits that other statues are supposed to ward away.”
We both chuckled for a moment before Mom began walking toward her bedroom. 
“I’m gonna go take a quick shower before I get started on dinner.”
“Alright.”
“Pasta sound good?” she hummed with an impish grin from her bedroom.
I nodded as she closed the door and I could already hear the hissing of pipes as the shower turned on. The stairs creaked as I quickly clambered up toward my room, but for some reason I felt a sharp unease and I stopped to lean over the railing. I took one last look at the small, stone cretin nestled in the corner of our house and sighed.
“Gonna get rid of the thing the moment Mom’s tired of looking at it,” I thought, dwelling on it for only a moment before I continued to hastily stomp up the stairs.

Later that evening, between hours-long sessions with a controller in hand, I would regularly go downstairs for another can of soda when I noticed the faint glow of Mom’s bedroom lamp glimmering beneath her door. I remember stopping for a moment as my toes clutched at the soft carpet in front of the hallway, and imagined what she must’ve looked like just then.
See-through negligee perhaps, just barely long enough to cover her heart-shaped bum, fabric thin enough that even a flickering candlelight could bare her womanly body – all of it intoxicated my young mind. I knew it was no place for a son to lust after his mother, but not all sons had mothers as gorgeous as my own. I always found myself attracted to women that looked like her: skin tanner than my own, with hair, glamorous, dark, and velvet – it was impossible to escape her, and at some point I stopped trying. A vacant, dimwitted grin appeared on my face as I finally continued toward the fridge, but the moment my hand touched the handle, I stopped.
Nestled within the darkest corner of the house sat the eerie, little statue from before. I watched it for a moment before the thought that my own paranoia could give way to fear began to emerge and I brushed it off. The dim light coming from beneath Mom’s bedroom door was reflected in the polished surface of the figure’s vacant eyes, and I was reminded once again of its discomforting proximity to her.
“Just letting it get to you,” I thought to myself as I walked past it once more toward the stairs.
The next morning, I awoke to the pleasant smell of blueberry pancakes and the sound of bacon sizzling in a pan. Still wearing my pajamas, I nearly leapt out of bed to appear at the kitchen doorway to find an even more tantalizing sight than a plate of breakfast.
Mom was wearing her small bathrobe barely long enough to cover her bottom when she bent low to retrieve another pan from the cupboard – the lewd shape of her bare buttocks appeared below the hem of her robe, revealing a pale triangle of skin at her lower back. She wasn’t wearing underwear. My young manhood throbbed as I swallowed hard, my tongue hung from my mouth, and I remember quickly leaning down to catch a glance up along her smooth legs as she stood up – humming all the while in her angelic voice.
“Morning, Sleepyhead,” she announced without removing her attention from the stove. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” I said excitedly, closing the distance between us before hugging her from behind.
She touched my hand before placing the pan on the stovetop and igniting another burner. “I could practically hear you snoring from my room.”
My arms were still wrapped around her slender waist as the plush mounds of her bum pressed gently against my abdomen, but when I opened my eyes, I could see a glass vase full of flowers on the dining room table over my shoulder. 
I glowered at it before I asked, “Where did those come from?”
“Oh, those?” Mom purred in delight over the sizzling of bacon. “Those are from the neighbor. Found them at the front door this morning with a note. Aren’t they lovely?”
My eyes were fixated on the colorful bouquet of roses and other flowers whose names I didn’t know. “Yeah,” I said in a voice devoid of all enthusiasm. “They look nice.”
The knowledge that I had given my mom an ugly, little statue of a gremlin instead of a more traditional gift of flowers for Mother’s Day had struck me with twice the guilt and shame as yesterday. I nearly groaned in agony.
“Don’t be upset.”
“Of what?” I said quickly.
Mom patted my hands at her waist to wordlessly tell me to release her. “Your gift is lovely too, and much more thoughtful.”
“I guess,” I sighed, watching as she placed the plate of breakfast on the table in front of me before I continued. “You’re not just saying that just ‘cause it’s from me?”
She smiled with her eyes closed before touching my knee under the table. “Of course not. I love each and every one of your gifts you give me.”
My shoulders were nearly up to my ears in embarrassment as I watched her quietly eat. On the wall behind her were numerous picture frames made of popsicle sticks and glitter glue, some with scrawlings of her and of me, others of my favorite cartoon characters at the time, and more than one kind of dragon or robot. Even though they were many years old, it still felt like yesterday when I proudly gave them to her with snot running down my face and a gap-toothed grin. I could feel my ears burning again when I glanced at the vase full of flowers between us.

As I enjoyed the freedoms of a weekend with the coals of humiliation only smoldering in the back of my mind, I remember climbing downstairs for a snack before a puzzled feeling suddenly captured me. Closing the fridge door and leaning over the edge of the kitchen doorway, I could see a small bowl with a single apple sitting within. I approached it and stared. 
“Did Mom do this?” I wondered, before taking the lonely fruit in one hand and taking a bite. “Must’ve forgotten to tell her.”
The stairs creaked under my manic feet as I quickly stomped back up toward my room;  the idle sounds of a pause screen coming from my room up ahead.
Thunk.
I froze. Feet slightly submerged within the plush fabric of the carpet when I turned my head to listen. Nothing but silence, or at least relatively speaking, had been the house’s answer to my puzzlement, and I leaned over the banister to look out to the living room below before calling out.
“Mom?” I shouted.
Nothing, again, was our home’s reply and I had almost left the matter alone to return to my game when the pangs of curiosity compelled me down the stairs in a careful descent. I eyed the various implements beside the fireplace, particularly that of the fire poker as I imagined what, or who, could have made that noise. Rounding the corner with a growing trepidation, one of the first things to draw my attention was that the glass door to the backyard was still locked and closed. The second, was that the small, impling statue had fallen over onto its side.
“That’s weird. It should’ve been too heavy to fall over on its own.”
I had chalked it up to the uneven surface of the carpet beneath it, and propped it back up onto its pedestal when I suddenly, and scarcely, heard another sound.
“Runt.”
So quietly did the word pass into my ears that I almost thought it had come from outside when I heard it again from a more central location.
“Hungry.”
It was then that I realized that the sounds were coming from within the small statue itself, and I eyed it with a paralyzed intrigue.
“Did noise just come out of this thing?” I thought immediately. “The old man forgot to mention there’s batteries in this thing.”
I knelt down in front of the figure with my ear nearly pressed to the polished stone, and when I was met with silence I slowly turned to face it, studying it from every side. 
“Freaky,” I mumbled to myself, turning the thing over in one direction and another to look for some sort of latch or switch. “This thing better not have a camera.”
Already bored with the prospect of prying the thing open and replacing the dead batteries within, I abandoned it in its dim corner to return upstairs. However, later in the evening when Mom finally returned home from work, I had asked her about the bowl of food and the noises coming from the figure.
“Just thought I’d show it a little appreciation,” Mom replied as she dropped her purse and other bags onto the counter. “Y’know, just in case.”
“I didn’t know you believed in that stuff.”
Her dark, red lips curled into a mischievous smile as her heels clacked against the kitchen tile. “Yeah, well, everyone likes to be appreciated every now and then.”
My stomach squeezed itself like a rag being wrung dry.
“I-I appreciate you, Mom,” I stammered, quick to potentially deflect a mother’s passive test of loyalty with rehearsed assurances.
Her hips swayed as she passed me toward her bedroom, and I could see no evidence of a pantyline through the fabric of her skirt. My manhood throbbed again at the thought of the tiny, black thong she’s likely wearing underneath. Perfume wafting through me like a cloud meant to carry me elsewhere, I stared at her wide backside as it moved within her pencil skirt. Lush and full, her cheeks were narrower at her lower back before they billowed out into generous moons just above her thighs. The taught fabric of her skirt was pulled over her plump, trapezoidal buttocks such that it was almost skin tight. 
“I know, but I’m your mom,” she hummed as she undid her earrings. “And that thing’s small, and ugly, and sits in a dark corner all day while we enjoy whatever positive energy or good luck it brings.”
“Oh,” I hummed to interject. “But the guy at the shop said never to give it offerings. Something about distracting it or something.”
Mom’s wavy, brown hair fell from her shoulder as she looked back at me from her bedroom door. “Oh? And has this guy-at-the-shop ever struck you as someone who knows how to treat people?”
“Well he did kind of rip me off,” I mumbled under my breath.
Her voice trailed out through the open door to her bedroom as she presumably undressed from her office attire. “It never hurts to be kind to others!”
I shrugged and looked at the statue before climbing up the stairs to my room.
“And we’ll get some batteries for it tomorrow!” Mom called out from her bedroom before closing her door.

Collapsing onto the edge of my bed and unpausing my game, I looked over at the mostly-eaten apple core before tossing it into the trash. “Kobe!” And clicking my tongue in disappointment as it landed on the carpet.
The evening quickly gave way to night as the dark interior of my room was illuminated by various explosions and gunfire on screen. My stomach growled and the weight of an empty can shook in my fingers, and I noticed that the apple core was gone.
“Huh?” I muttered as the bed creaked under the weight of someone craning their head to look around their floor.
My stomach steeled itself for the possibility that ants might’ve somehow carried the thing off, and after flipping on the light switch and checking behind the small trash can, I was surprised to find the rotten thing nowhere in sight.
“Mom must’ve come in while I didn’t notice, I guess.”
Still, the thought that the only thing she would do is take a rotting apple core from my room without so much as a “hello,” or a scolding of some kind to go with it was odd. I climbed down the stairs to find most of the house in darkness as Mom had already gone to bed for the night, judging by the absence of light coming through the bottom edge of her door, and casually meandered toward the kitchen before I pulled at the handle to the fridge. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
Carefully swallowing the saliva in my mouth such as to cause as little noise as possible, I stood completely frozen as my eyes widened in their sockets. In the furthest corner of my vision, fully immersed in the umbral darkness, sat a flat, and alarmingly vacant pedestal. Not even my heart dared to beat in my chest as the looming silence of the kitchen quickly became deafening to my ears, and worse still was the quiet but terrifying sound of crunching coming from elsewhere. Slowly, so slowly I could almost feel the bones in my neck slide against one another, I spotted a small, dark shape crouched in one corner of the living room behind the couch and it sat hunched over with its back to me as it nodded its head.
My eyes were as wide open as their lids could physically allow, and every possible explanation for what I was seeing hissed through the gray matter in my skull. The fingers of my hand tentatively left the handle of the fridge to keep the door open so as to not alarm the small creature with any noise, and I noted that the fire poker was closer to it than myself. 
“Is it an animal? How did it get into the house?” I contemplated as I strategically placed each foot in positions that I knew wouldn’t create sound. 
The number of ideas and explanations decreased with every step I took toward the figure and I realized it might have been what stole the wilted apple core from my room. A soft crunching sound like that of a rabbit munching on grass was the only sound in the living room as my fingers slowly wrapped themselves around the cold, pockmarked surface of the cast iron fire poker and I raised it silently into the air. Its head unexpectedly turned to look at me over its shoulder.
“Eyah!” it hissed with a noise that more resembled a piece of chalk scraping against a pavement than that of a human voice.
The little creature then suddenly threw what few scraps of the browning apple core remained at my face before darting around the couch and scuttling beneath a shelf like some oversized rodent. With fire poker in hand, I was taken aback not so much by its appearance or the sound it made, but by its apparent ability to throw things.
“Is it a monkey-” the words halted in my mind as my eyes fixated on the cramped space it crawled into, and a voice in pure disbelief muttered past my lips. “An imp.”
The living room was silent for what felt like a long while before I fully took account of things, such as the small nature of the creature and the iron poker in my hand. A pang of guilt stabbed at me, and I slowly began to lower the thing.
“Hey!” I whispered loudly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
There was no response.
“You just surprised me, is all.”
I slowly got onto my hands and knees before steeling my resolve, and looked beneath the cupboard it had scuttled under – nothing but dust and a paperclip.
“Well, alright then,” I whispered, standing up.
It was then that Mom’s words echoed in my head, and despite the old man’s initial warnings, I figured the best way to get on this creature’s good side was with a peace offering. I stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at the empty pedestal in the dining room, and the small bowl with another apple.
“Hopefully that should help smooth things over,” I whispered to myself before returning to my room.
The thought that I should wake Mom up and tell her what happened sat like a statue in my mind. The image of her half-awake and angrily staring at the empty pedestal with her son explaining what happened also lingered. It was then that I thought it best to handle this on my own – without drawing Mom’s ire on a school night.
When morning came, my eyes shot open as I nearly bolted out of my room. Tentatively peeking down at the dining room from the stairs, I was relieved to find the statue sitting atop its pedestal with the apple still sitting in its bowl.
“Was I just imagining things?” I thought as I descended the carpeted stairs.
Mom was surprised to see me already awake, as she gasped at the sight of me.
“Jesus, Sweetheart, you scared me,” she said, placing her hand on her chest.
I stood in front of the statue as I muttered, “sorry, Mom. I just uh, couldn’t sleep, I guess.”
“Well in that case, I should get started on breakfast then,” she hummed, kissing me on the cheek as she drifted through the dining room and into the adjoining kitchen.
My lingering thoughts on the small statue and what I might've imagined last night threatened to command my attention, but the sight of Mom’s bare bum peeking beneath her robe as she bent down to grab a pan from the cupboard snapped me out of my stupor.
“Never gonna get tired of seeing that,” I thought as I practically drooled at the sight of her wobbling butt.

Coming home from school, my mind was already awash with possibilities of potential magic and opportunity. I would’ve talked about it in greater detail with my friends, but they barely believed me in the first place, and I’d seen more than enough movies to know not to blab about this kind of thing if I didn’t want any government freaks abducting it.
Still, I wished I could’ve at least shared this secret with Mom, but I knew it’d likely put her in a bad mood somehow like the other times I tried telling her about monsters under my bed, or ghosts at our old place. I was more resolute than ever to find out what really happened last night, and if I could befriend the creature before I reveal my little project to Mom. I figured it’s far more likely to go over more smoothly with her if I already have the little imp figured out.
Later that evening, I peered down from atop the stairs, eagerly waiting for the creature to come to life and eat the brownies and candy I had placed in its bowl. Old man’s warnings be damned, I wanted to befriend it even if it wasn’t going to do its task – whatever that meant. Moments turned into minutes, which turned to hours, as even the glow from Mom’s bedroom light had turned off and I was suddenly left struggling to stay awake as I stared at the imp-statue.
I must have dozed off as images of Mom’s tanned thighs crossing and uncrossing in her skirt taunted me. Drool pooled from my mouth and onto the carpet as I imagined what the state of her pussy could’ve been, if she only trimmed it, or if she had a full, womanly bush nestled between those heavenly thighs.
Thump.
My heavy eyelids struggled to remain open when suddenly the sound of crunching and rattling could be heard – the rattling of candy in a bowl. I inhaled sharply as the small, dark form of the imp crouched over the bowl of treats had appeared before my delirious gaze, and I was barely able to contain my excitement. The butterfly net I had beside me suddenly seemed useless as I considered now that the creature could tear through it, and I had entirely forgotten what I would’ve put it in had I managed to catch the thing.
“Ah, whatever!” I whispered to myself as I silently descended the stairs.
I figured it’d be best if I approached it unarmed, as opposed to the previous night, and as I slowly drew closer to the crouching imp, I wondered what I should say to it. I wondered if it could even understand me at all.
Crunch, crunch.
“H-hello?” I whispered, standing beside the stairs in the living room.
It was then that the noises of it eating had ceased, and I could suddenly see it run toward the kitchen to break line of sight.
“Hey! It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you!”
No response, but I wasn’t dissuaded from trying further as I tiptoed towards my backpack and retrieved an uneaten candybar. The wrapper crinkled quietly as I offered it to the air in front of me.
“Here, have some of this,” I whispered loudly.
It felt like minutes had passed as I stood motionless in the living room before I could see the faint, umbral shape of something emerging from the kitchen. It was the imp: standing closely to the threshold between the living room, and I could see its hands clutched against the wall. It obscured itself from me, but stared with black, beady eyes either at myself or the melting candy bar in my hand.
“C’mon, it’s okay,” I reassured it. “It’s good! Better than what I put in your bowl!”
It was then that the creature slowly emerged from the kitchen and took tentative steps toward me, taking care to place itself beside various pieces of furniture as it approached me. The diminutive thing was standing at about three feet tall, and I stood patiently despite the excitement rising within me.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Mom yawned as she walked past me into the kitchen.
The coffee maker gurgled and hissed.
“Yeah!” I said with excitement, already seated at the dining table as I glanced at the imp statue and its bowl of candy wrappers.
I could see Mom pause as she looked around the kitchen – breakfast was already made, and coffee was already being brewed.
“Did-” she stammered. “Did you make breakfast?”
“Yeah, basically!” I said excitedly, glancing over at the one who was really responsible.
Mom cooed with adoration as she practically glided toward me, smothering me in an embrace and flattening her plush lips against my forehead. She nuzzled me while declaring how proud she was as I glanced over at the small statue. My eyes noticed our reflection in one of the picture frames beside it, and I could tell that from a low angle, one could likely see entirely up my Mom’s bathrobe right now. My manhood stirred to life in my shorts, and I had to unfortunately wrestle myself free from her doting so as to keep my staunch arousal a secret.
“I-it’s nothing, Mom, really!”
“Well, I could certainly get used to this,” she hummed as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “That is, if you were to make this a habit.”
I glanced once more at the small statue seated in the corner of the dining room, and Mom must’ve seen it as she came closer to look at it from the kitchen.
“Oh, Honey!” she said with mild irritation. “Did you leave this here?”
“Wait, Mom, don’t!” I exclaimed, attempting to stop her from stealing from my new friend.
“You’ll attract ants if you leave this stuff here!”
She bent down low with her coffee mug in hand, and while I had maneuvered to stop her, the sight of her buttocks peeking at me from below the hem of her robe stopped me in my tracks. I imagined my impish friend likely got a good look down her cleavage as well, considering her robe had almost come undone as she stood up with the bowl of half-eaten candy in her other hand. 
“Fruit is one thing, but leaving this stuff out is going to attract flies, or worse,” Mom chided.
My stomach turned as I watched her dump the contents of the bowl into the trash bin, and I gave an apologetic frown to the statue. Only the vacant gleam of the polished stone surface was its reply.
“No more offerings, I think,” she continued, setting her coffee down on the table as she tied her robe more tightly shut.
“But-”
“Maybe flowers, if anything. Tall ones, that’ll hide it.”
Mom smiled at me, thinking I would agree with her assessment, but I could only shoot her a worried smile. After breakfast, she went about quickly cleaning the dishes and wiping the table before taking a shower and leaving for work. I imagined that if my little friend were awake, if it slept at all that is, that it would’ve enjoyed seeing my mom from every angle. That thought had conjured jealousy almost as quickly as I had imagined it, and my stomach turned when I realized there had been at least one moment in which she practically stood over the thing to dust off the picture frames above it. All it would’ve taken was one measly glance up her robe and it would’ve seen the entirety of my mom’s pussy. I felt faint.

Later that evening, I had replaced the bowl and filled it with more candy when Mom wasn’t looking.
“Hopefully you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to,” I whispered, more to myself than to the creature at my feet. “And a little extra to apologize on her behalf. She can be kind of bossy sometimes. Don’t take it personal.”
It was then that the critter snatched at a handful of the treats and gobbled them up by palming them into its toothy mouth. The thing would’ve been frightening had I not felt I had the creature figured out, but I was relieved to see that it’d animated once more.
“You get bigger since the last time I saw you? Well, anyway, so the mop and broom are in the closet,” I began. “And you’re gonna want to make sure to skip vacuuming. That’ll cause too much noise.”
The imp grumbled as it looked around the dining room, and when its beady, black eyes spotted a photo of my mom and I at the beach, it stood still. Its claw-like feet were almost submerged in the carpet as it took steps toward the picture frame and picked it up before inspecting it.
“Oh,” I said with some surprise. “You like that picture? That’s Mom and me at the beach.”
It stared hard at the photo before one of its claws released the picture frame to scratch at its crotch. I snickered in amusement.
“You do know what a beach is, don’t you?”
“Bitch,” it grunted.
I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter.
“No, no,” I said, still snickering. “Beach.”
It still stared intently at the photo of us when finally I realized what was in that picture that was so interesting to the creature. Mom wore a two-piece bikini that day, and the front of her bottoms were riding up during that photo. You could practically see them disappearing between her labia as the slightly darker coloration of her lips were plainly visible.
“Bitch,” it said again, with a much more lurid intent present in its scratchy voice. “Slut.”
“Hey!” I hissed. “Watch your mouth! It was funny the first time, but that’s my mom!”
I snatched the picture frame from its claw before replacing it on the shelf when I could see quite plainly that the imp was both a male, and a very erect one.
“Ugh, gross! Put that thing away!”
The creature grimaced before reaching for the picture frame again and I swatted its hand.
“Knock it off, or no more offerings!” I threatened. “Now you better get to work, or we’ll both be in trouble!”
The imp grumbled as it scratched its bum. It took one last look at the pictures of my mom on the shelves, and its oversized cock twitched upward – causing me to wretch at the sight of it. The thing was misshapen and knobbed with crooked veins, and I grimaced at the thought of it being near my mother.
“I made Mom a lot of promises today, so she’s expecting a clean house tomorrow. I know I’m asking a lot from you, but that’s why I bought you!” I said, attempting not to look too closely at it.
It was then that it stuck its tongue out at me before marching towards the closet door.
“You can start by sweeping up first, then mopping afterward.”

The house almost looked brand new, for the most part, and things were beginning to stay clean much to Mom’s delight. She never suspected it could’ve been the little statue’s doing, only that her son may have been inspired by it. Nevertheless, she always hinted at her desire to get rid of it, and as such I began to feel like my new, little friend was more temporary than previously thought. That suited me just fine however, as lately it began to have a habit of misbehaving more and more often. 
A toy left on the ground for Mom to pick up here, a mysterious smudge near the statue there, and there was more than one occasion in which it had spilled some juice on the floor to dry in front of its pedestal, causing my mom to have to crouch down on her hands and knees as she scrubbed it out of the carpet. I could feel my blood pressure rising as my mom’s big butt shook and jiggled in front of the statue’s leering gaze, the bottom of her robe falling open and gathering at her waist as she worked – not knowing the little cretin might be staring directly at her bare pussy and butthole. 
I had caught the little cretin leering over photos of my mom more than once, and last night I had even seen it open my mother’s bedroom door. I’d have stopped it from presumably cleaning in there, but I couldn’t risk waking Mom on a school night. Thankfully however, it didn’t seem to have woken her up as she seemed none the wiser the morning after.
“Thank you again for making coffee, Sweetie!” Mom chirped, flattening her lips against my brow and leaving a warm, wet kiss behind.
The spoon against my bowl clanked as I watched her sashay toward her bedroom to get ready for work, when she suddenly paused.
“Oh, what’s this?” she hummed, inspecting the picture frames above the imp statue. “These are all crooked.”
I looked over to see her setting her mug of coffee down on a shelf before standing on her tip-toes to straighten the frames above. The fabric of her robe lifted with her shoulders, revealing a sliver of her plump buttocks when it was then that I realized what was happening.
“There!” Mom hummed in satisfaction. “Does that look straight to you?”
“Uh, yeah, they’re straight.”
Rattle, tap.
A small marble then rolled off of the top of the shelf and tumbled onto the ground in front of the statue.
Mom clicked her tongue in irritation. “Sweetie.”
She turned around, bending low to the ground as her backside was pointed right at the imp’s grinning face. I bit my lip as I imagined her pussy and butthole couldn’t have been more than a couple inches away from its crooked mouth as she bent over.
“Take better care of your things,” she hummed, placing it on the table in front of me.
She then carried her coffee mug into her bedroom, shutting the door only half-closed behind her, ignorant of the fact that she had given the imp between her feet the perfect view up between her legs and inside her robe. I could feel my ears burning and my face turning red as I imagined the little cretin snickering in delight.
It always seemed to take an interest in Mom, and I attributed it to some sort of vengeful nature that the little creature had from having its offerings stolen only the one time. I couldn’t imagine that the beast was capable of forgiving such a slight, and I wondered what other pranks it had planned for us. Still, I supposed it could’ve been worse, but the maneuver it just pulled on my mom didn’t sit well with me. I was beginning to think it was capable of much worse, had it the mind for it.

“Now this time you stay out of Mom’s room, got it?” I said, handing the critter another bowl of candy.
It was late in the evening again, and I waited until my mom went to bed before I had the imp begin cleaning the house.
“And not another prank! I saw what you did this morning, and I won’t have it.”
The imp snickered before greedily stuffing its face with candy. “Pussy,” it rattled. “Bitch, pussy. Big butthole. Runt see it. Runt like.”
“Ugh, whatever. Just get to work.”
I was already up the stairs when I saw the little cretin meandering toward the closet door, when a growing suspicion began to take root. The television in my room buzzed as I stood there, controller in hand, and waited.
“I’ll give it five minutes before I go down there, and if I catch it going into Mom’s room again, I’m gonna wallop that little freak!” I thought, glaring at my bedroom door.
Five minutes came and went, and as I started down the carpeted stairs, I was surprised to find that the closet door was left open.
“Maybe the little guy really did listen to me this time,” I thought, descending the stairs and peering into the dim closet.
It was then that I craned my head to look over my shoulder, only to see that Mom’s bedroom door was cracked ajar.
“That little-”
My fists were already balled as my feet tip-toed toward my mom’s room, holding my breath, for any noise I might make could spell my doom as well as an end to our little operation. I could hear Mom’s snoring as I grew closer, but with it came a strange, almost wet sound – as if someone were noisily feasting on something within. 
Slurp, squelch, slurp.
I placed my hand against the door and slowly pushed it inward. My stomach dropped.
Slurp, smack, slurp.
Mom was sleeping on her back with her blanket gathered at her waist. I could see quite plainly, even in the gloomy dark, that she was sleeping completely naked. However, between her plump thighs where I had expected to see her nude femininity, instead stood the back of the imp’s head as it greedily lapped at her cunt.
Slap, slurp, smack, slurp.
My mom was snoring as her toes curled and relaxed repeatedly, matching the rhythm of the cretin’s bobbing head. Apparently she was enjoying being the unwitting feast for this wretched creature as it lay crouched between her legs, moving its face up and down. It almost used its entire body to lick the length of her delicate entrance, and my mother continued to snore as the creature had her pussy lips held open with its fingers, hungrily eating her out. The whole room smelled of her heady moisture.
“Mm, bitch pussy. Creamy pussy. Bossy slut,” it grunted between mouthfuls of my mom’s labia.
Mom quietly purred with her toes curled. “Ooh,” before snoring again.
“The little cretin’s probably giving her a wet dream as well!” I imagined as I angrily lurched toward the two of them.
Mom’s dark nipples were fully erect as my hand descended toward the humping, little bastard. I could see that Mom’s crotch was hairy but trimmed, and that her clit was throbbing as the imp violated her with its undulating tongue. It pressed its nose flat against the top of her crotch as it began to stroke and guide the tip of its swollen cock at her anus.
“C’mere, you little freak!” I whispered, attempting to wrench the thing out from between my mom’s legs.
Its lengthy tongue unsheathed from within my mother’s interior and flapped loosely about, covered in some sort of pale, translucent fluid. I could see that its oral appendage was at least twelve inches long as it writhed and slobbered in protest, and I began to feel sick to my stomach imagining it had somehow worked all of that inside of my poor, sleeping mother. It growled and spat, flailing with its limbs as I wrestled the thing off of Mom’s bed and out of her room.
“What the Hell are you doing!?” I growled, staring the creature down as we stood poised in the hallway to Mom’s bedroom.
“Bitch pussy! Teach it lesson! Bossy slut! Runt fuck!”
Its gnarled, misshapen erection throbbed in the air as it spoke.
“Ew, gross! Get the Hell away from her, and get back to work! Or I’ll get the fire poker from before and really teach you a lesson!” I threatened in a loud whisper.
The imp still stood opposite me with its back to the dining room and myself standing between it and my mother’s room. Things remained that way for what felt like minutes with only the sound of Mom’s peaceful snoring breaking the silence. My gut turned at the images I’d seen: the creature lustfully bobbing up and down as it ate her, her long legs draped apart as if it had climbed onto the bed and prepared her for more, and I hesitated to imagine what would’ve happened afterward had I not interrupted them. 
“Runt fuck-rape bossy slut!” it said again, with its throbbing erection twitching at the demand. “Runt fuck-rape bussy slut’s big butthole! Runt want!”
I could see its dick was drooling a noxious, clear fluid onto the carpet, and my mind instantly conjured the sickening display of the short, little runt humping and rutting at my mother’s crotch in the dark – her bed quietly jostling as the imp’s disgusting rhythm worked its gnarled root into her womb. My knuckles cracked as my fists clenched so tightly that my fingers had turned white. It was then that the imp backed down. The sound of its footsteps carried it mournfully toward the closet door as it lethargically retrieved a broom.
“That’s what I thought.”
Adrenaline still rumbled within my ears. I released my balled-up fists and warily turned away from the imp as it marched into the living room. Mom was still peacefully snoring as I neared her bedroom, but as I placed my hand on the doorknob to pull it shut, I could see her dark, unshaven crotch – her pussy lips glistening in the gloomy dark. Her moist cunt was reflecting the dim nightlight in the hallway behind me, and my own erection throbbed. I didn’t want to chance waking her by pulling the blanket back over, but I knew she wouldn’t have suspected anything was amiss were she to find herself wet and uncovered. She’d likely chalk it up to her own nocturnal emissions, and I bit my lip, silently cursing myself.

---  
Sylvia stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips as she turned onto her side. Moonlight spilled across the sheets, illuminating the curve of her hip where her nightgown had ridden up. John froze in the doorway, heart hammering against his ribs. The imp’s words—fuck the bossy bitch—echoed in his skull like a curse. He should’ve smashed the statue days ago.

The next morning, Sylvia padded into the kitchen, yawning. Her robe gaped open as she reached for the coffee tin, revealing the swell of heavy breasts against thin cotton. John’s gaze snagged on the dark triangle of pubic hair peeking beneath the robe’s hem. He looked away, throat tight. "Mom," he blurted, "we need to get rid of that statue." She turned, robe swinging wide. Hips like an hourglass’s base strained the fabric, her ass a lush, round shelf. "The ugly little thing? Why, honey? It’s grown on me." Her smile was warm, oblivious.

That night, the imp didn’t wait for candy. It slithered from its pedestal, eyes glowing like hot coals in the dark, and pressed its leathery palm against Sylvia’s bedroom door. A low, guttural chant vibrated through the wood. Inside, Sylvia whimpered in her sleep, thighs squeezing together as a dream unfurled—not of demons, but of her son’s hands sliding up her bare waist, his breath hot on her neck. She arched into the phantom touch, a needy gasp escaping her lips. The imp grinned, jagged teeth gleaming. Sweet dreams!, it hissed into the shadows.

By dawn, Sylvia moved differently around John. Her gaze lingered when he poured cereal, tracing the line of his shoulders with a hunger that hadn’t been there yesterday. She "accidentally" brushed against him at the sink, her wide hip bumping his thigh, the heat of her enormous ass pressing into him for a heartbeat too long. "Sorry, baby," she murmured, voice husky. Her robe gaped open as she bent to retrieve a dropped spoon, giving him a dizzying view of those heavy, swaying tits and the thicket of dark curls between her thighs. John’s knuckles whitened on the counter.

That night, the imp’s whispers slithered deeper. Sylvia’s dream wasn’t vague this time. It was John’s calloused hands gripping her wide hips, yanking her back onto his cock, her giant ass slamming against him with every thrust. She woke gasping, sweat-slicked, her cunt throbbing and wet. The air hummed with a low, insistent chant from the hallway. Bare feet hit the floor before she knew she’d moved. Guided by the thrumming pulse between her legs, she drifted towards the living room, eyes glazed, lips parted. The imp statue sat bathed in moonlight, its grin wider, crueler. Sylvia knelt before it, robe pooling open. Her heavy breasts hung free, nipples hard peaks in the cool air. She leaned forward, offering the swollen curve of her ass, the dark, wet slit of her pussy glistening. "Sweet little helper," she murmured, voice thick with sleep, fingers idly tracing the imp’s stone claws. "So good to me..."

John heard the murmurs. He found her at dawn, slumped naked beside the pedestal, one hand resting possessively on the statue’s base, her legs splayed wide, the musk of her arousal thick in the air. He choked back a cry, covering her trembling form with a blanket. When she woke hours later on the sofa, she blinked, confused. "Must’ve sleepwalked again, honey," she yawned, stretching, the blanket falling to reveal a dusky nipple. "Had the strangest dream... about that statue. It was... helpful." Her smile was distant, tinged with something dark and hungry John didn’t recognize.

The following nights became a ritual. Sylvia’s sleepwalking grew bolder. She’d grind herself against the cold stone base, moaning softly as she imagined thick, inhuman heat filling her. She’d whisper filthy promises to the imp – promises of her tight cunt, her greedy asshole, the weight of her tits in its claws. John watched, hidden in shadow, his cock rock-hard in his pajamas, torn between horror and a sickening, undeniable lust. His mother, bent over, presenting her enormous ass like an offering, murmuring about being used. He saw the imp’s eyes glow brighter each time, drinking in her vulnerability.

By day, Sylvia’s touches turned deliberate. She’d "trip" into his lap, her wide hips settling against his growing erection, her huge ass pressing down as she made a show of adjusting herself. "Oops!" she’d breathe, her hot breath fanning his neck, her hand "steadying" itself on his thigh, dangerously close. Her robe seemed perpetually loose, flashes of dark bush, the sway of heavy breasts, the impossible curve of her waist flaring into those wide, fertile hips a constant torment. She’d catch him staring, her gaze not reproachful, but... inviting. A secret smile played on her lips. The imp’s nocturnal whispers were eroding her waking inhibitions, twisting her maternal affection into something raw and carnal. John felt the fragile dam of his resistance cracking.

That night, the air in the house felt thick, charged. John couldn’t sleep. He heard it first – the low, rhythmic scrape of stone on wood. Creeping downstairs, he found the living room bathed in moonlight. The imp wasn't on its pedestal. It crouched on the coffee table, its leathery skin glistening, eyes like molten embers fixed on the hallway. Sylvia stood there, bathed in the pale light, her robe hanging open. Her expression was slack, eyes unfocused, yet her body thrummed with a desperate energy. She swayed slightly, her enormous ass a pale, rounded shadow, the dark thicket between her thighs visibly damp. The imp’s raspy voice cut through the silence, directed at John hiding in the doorway. "Watch, young master," it hissed, a cruel smirk twisting its features. "Your gift..."

Before John could react, Sylvia moved. With a low moan that vibrated deep in her throat, she turned slowly, presenting her back to the imp. Her robe slipped further, pooling around her elbows, leaving her completely naked from the waist down. The moonlight caught the breathtaking swell of her wide hips, the deep cleft of her enormous ass, the glistening, dark pink folds of her cunt peeking through the coarse hair. She bent forward, placing her palms flat on the coffee table beside the imp, her back arching deeply. Her heavy breasts swung free beneath her, nipples hard pebbles. "He’s been so... helpful, Johnny," she murmured, her voice thick and dreamy, yet laced with a shocking hunger. "Showed me... what I really need..." She pushed her hips back, offering herself obscenely, the ripe, hairy slit glistening like a dark jewel. The imp let out a wet chuckle. "See? The bitch begs for it. Young master’s gift... ready to be unwrapped."

The imp hopped down from the table with unnatural agility. It circled Sylvia’s trembling form, its clawed fingers trailing possessively over the globe of one pale buttock, leaving a faint, dark smear. It paused behind her, its grotesque, leathery form dwarfed by her monumental curves. "Wide hips," it rasped, pressing its face close to her exposed cunt, inhaling deeply. "Made for fucking. Made for breeding." It spat a thick globule of dark saliva onto her glistening folds. Sylvia gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily, pushing back against the empty air. "Yes..." she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Help me..." The imp’s clawed hand snaked between her thighs, not touching her cunt directly, but roughly spreading her wide, exposing the swollen, needy pink flesh and the tight, darker pucker of her asshole beneath the thatch of hair. "See how juicy she is?" it hissed at John, its glowing eyes fixed on his hiding place. "All this... for you. My gift."

John felt rooted to the spot, shame and arousal warring violently within him. The sight of his mother bent over like a common whore, her massive ass presented, her hairy pussy dripping and spread obscenely wide by the imp’s claw, was horrifying. Yet the raw, primal display of her body – the impossible flare of her hips, the heavy sway of her tits, the sheer, wanton readiness of her cunt – sent molten heat straight to his groin. His cock strained painfully against his pajamas. The imp cackled, a wet, gurgling sound. "She dreams of cock, young master. Your cock." It leaned closer to Sylvia’s ear, its voice dropping to a sibilant whisper John could barely hear, yet the words seemed to echo in his soul: "Tell him." Sylvia shuddered, a full-body tremor that made her heavy breasts sway. Her voice, when it came, was a ragged moan, thick with lust. She pushed her hips back harder, her enormous ass jiggling, a clear bead of her arousal dripping onto the floor. "Johnny... baby... I need you... inside..."

The imp’s eyes blazed with triumph. "See?" it hissed, its claw tracing the swollen lips of Sylvia’s cunt, making her gasp and arch her spine deeper. "The bitch knows her place now. She belongs to you. Your gift... ripe and ready." It withdrew its claw slowly, leaving Sylvia trembling, her wet folds glistening obscenely in the moonlight. "She begs for your seed. To be filled, fucked." The creature gestured with a grotesque flourish towards Sylvia’s offered form. "Take her, young master. Claim your mother. Fuck her like the needy slut she is." Sylvia whimpered in agreement, her fingers digging into the edge of the coffee table. "Please, Johnny... fuck Mommy... fill me..." Her hips rocked back and forth in desperate little circles, her huge ass cheeks wobbling, showcasing the dark, wet depths they guarded.

John’s breath hitched. Every shred of decency screamed at him to run, to smash the vile statue, to wake his mother from this nightmare. But the sight of her – the overwhelming reality of her voluptuous body offered so completely, so wantonly, her own voice begging for him – shattered his resistance. A low groan tore from his throat as he stepped out of the shadows, his erection tenting his pajamas unmistakably. The imp’s grin widened impossibly. "Yes..." it hissed, slinking back towards its pedestal. "Use bossy bitch. She is yours." John moved as if in a trance, drawn to the hypnotic sway of his mother’s enormous ass. Sylvia sensed him behind her. She pushed her hips back further, swaying her big caboose, presenting her hairy, dripping cunt with shameless abandon. "Yes, baby," she moaned, her voice thick with desperate need. "Fuck Mommy... hard or gentle..." Her hand reached back, fingers spreading her glistening folds wider, exposing the dark pink, pulsing entrance. "Whatever you like..."

The imp chuckled wetly from its perch. "Master always wanted her," it rasped, its voice dripping with malice. "Deep down, you wanted bossy bitch. Before me. Before statue." 
Sylvia whimpered in confirmation, her hips grinding air. "Yes... yes..." Her voice sounded drugged, thick with lust. "Remember... Johnny? When you were fourteen?" Her fingers dug into the table edge as she pushed her enormous ass higher. "You watched Mommy shower... I didn't close the door. You were supposed to be in school." Her words came in panting gasps. "You saw me... soaping these heavy tits..." She arched deeper, making her breasts swing heavily beneath her. "Saw my fingers... rubbing my pussy..." She moaned, a shudder running through her wide hips. "I knew you watched. Felt your eyes... made Mommy wet... made me rub harder..."

John froze, the memory slamming into him – the steam, the immense width of her soap-slicked hips, the glimpse of dark curls between her thighs as her hand moved. He’d thought himself unseen. The imp hissed triumphantly. "See? Bossy bitch always craved young cock. Her own boy’s thick seed." Sylvia’s breath hitched. "Yes... oh God yes... My womb... it ached... thinking about your cock filling it..." Her hips jerked in desperate little circles. "Wanted you... even then... wanted my boy to mount me..." The imp grinned. "She knew!" it hissed triumphantly. "Knew her wide hips drove son crazy. Knew her fat ass made him hard. She fed your hunger!" Sylvia moaned, arching her spine impossibly deeper, presenting her enormous, wobbling ass cheeks like an offering. "Yes... oh god, yes... needed you to see... to want... Mommy’s been a bad girl..."

The imp slithered closer, its claw tracing the trembling swell of Sylvia’s left buttock. "Mother love?" it sneered. "Twisted! Became hunger! She dreamed of son’s cock filling her hairy cunt... breeding her... marking her inside!" Sylvia shuddered violently, a fresh wave of slickness coating her inner thighs. Sylvia whimpered, pushing back against the phantom touch. "Take me Johnny... pleeease..." Her voice cracked with raw need. "Mount Mommy like an animal... shove that hard cock deep!" She rocked her hips, her enormous ass jiggling hypnotically. "See how wet you make me... pussy drooling for my sweet baby..." Her fingers plunged into her own slickness with a wet sound, then pulled away glistening. "See how empty Mommy feels... help me." The imp nodded eagerly. "Her instincts? To raise son? Changed! Now... she wants son’s seed! Wants to be fucked like a beast!

John felt his resistance crumble further. The scent of her arousal – musky, primal, utterly forbidden – flooded his senses. The sight of her bent and begging, her wide hips flared for him, her hairy cunt dripping and spread open, obliterated reason. With a guttural groan ripped from his core, he fumbled with his pajama drawstring. The fabric pooled at his feet. His cock sprang free, thick and throbbing, glistening at the tip. Sylvia sensed his movement, heard the ragged breath. "Yes!" she hissed, pushing her hips back harder, her giant ass cheeks quivering. "Good boy!" Her fingers frantically spread her folds wider, presenting her dark, wet hole like an offering. "Shove it in! Claim what’s yours!"

The imp scurried backwards, its work seemingly done. It hopped onto the arm of the sofa, watching with predatory glee. Sylvia turned her head, her eyes finally focusing – not on the imp, but on John. Her gaze was molten, stripped of pretense or shame. She saw his big cock twitching and jumping eagerly, saw the conflicted agony twisting John's face. "Don't think," she said, her voice thick with lust. "Just fuck me. Fill mama's aching pussy." Her fingers plunged deep into her own wetness, scooping out glistening strands before smearing them across her swollen lips. "Don't you want to make your mother happy?" The imp watched John’s transfixed stare, his cock straining visibly. "No more hiding," it hissed. "Mother wants son’s cock. Master wants mother’s cunt." Sylvia’s body trembled with pent-up lust, every curve – the sway of her heavy tits, the impossible flare of her hips, the vast expanse of her pale ass – screaming for his possession. "NOW, JOHNNY!" she wailed, her voice thick with tears and unbearable need. "FUCK MOMMY!"

John stumbled forward, his knees hitting the edge of the coffee table. The scent of her – sweat, arousal, pure forbidden musk – overwhelmed him. His hand trembled as it reached out, not for her slick cunt, but for the monumental curve of her hip. His fingers sank into yielding flesh, warm and impossibly soft. The sheer scale of her hip bone beneath his palm, the flare where her waist dipped dramatically before exploding into the vast expanse of her ass, sent a jolt of pure ownership through him. This was his mother. This was the woman of his dreams.

He gripped her wide hip hard, his other hand finding the swell of her enormous ass. He felt the tremor run through her as he squeezed, fingers sinking deep into the pliant flesh. He positioned himself, the weeping head of his cock nudging against her wet, tangled curls. Sylvia gasped, pushing back instinctively, grinding her huge ass against his groin. "Yes! Like that! Push it in!" Her voice was a desperate whine. "Shove that big cock deep into Mommy’s cunt!"

John braced himself against her wide hips, feeling the immense power in her frame. He leaned forward, his chest close to the sweat-slicked curve of her lower back. With a grunt that was part agony, part ecstasy, he thrust forward. The head of his cock parted her slick, swollen folds. She was impossibly tight, impossibly hot. Sylvia screamed – a raw, ragged sound torn from her throat – as her body yielded, stretching obscenely around his invading thickness. Her enormous buttocks slammed back against him, engulfing him completely. He was buried to the hilt inside his mother’s wet, clenching heat.

The imp’s delighted cackle echoed as Sylvia bucked wildly beneath him. "Fuck!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Oh god, Johnny! Your cock! So deep!" Her hips pistoned back against his thrusts, her giant ass rippling with each powerful slam. John gripped her wide hips like handles, anchoring himself as he pulled back and slammed home again. The wet slap of flesh on flesh filled the room, mingling with Sylvia’s guttural moans and the imp’s gleeful hissing. He watched, mesmerized, as her enormous ass cheeks jiggled violently with every brutal thrust, the dark, wet gape of her stretched cunt visible where their bodies joined. She was taking him, all of him, her body built to accommodate him, bred for this. "That's it!" she screamed, pushing back frantically. "So good, my love!" The imp’s eyes glowed like hellfire. "Yes, master! Fuck the bitch!" John drove deeper, harder, losing himself in the wet, clenching heat of his mother.

Sylvia arched her spine impossibly deeper, presenting her enormous ass higher, her fingers clawing at the coffee table. "Harder!" she gasped. "Give Mommy everything!" Her voice dropped, thick with venomous triumph. "Did Becka feel this tight? Make Mommy scream like Becka never could!" John froze mid-thrust, horrified. Becka. His girlfriend. Sweet, innocent Becka. The name was a knife twisting in his guilt. A wave of crushing guilt slammed into him. Sylvia instantly felt his hesitation. She ground her enormous ass back against him, trying to restart his rhythm. "Don't stop!" she snarled, twisting her head. "Fuck me! Forget that sad little girl!"
He felt Sylvia clench possessively around his buried cock. John’s voice choked out, barely a whisper. "Mom... Becka... I'm sorry..." the apology ripped from him involuntarily. Sylvia’s reaction was instantaneous fury. She shoved herself back onto his cock with a furious cry, forcing him deeper still. "SORRY?" she shrieked, her voice raw with jealous fury. Her wide hips slammed against him, her huge buttocks quivering with rage. "You're fucking ME! Your MOTHER! Your cock is buried in MY cunt" She slammed her hips back violently, forcing a choked groan from him. "Forget her! She's nothing! Skinny hips, tiny tits! Could she take you like this?" She slammed her enormous ass onto him again, her wetness gushing.

The imp slithered closer, its leathery skin brushing John. "Beckaaaa," it hissed directly into his ear, its voice a poisonous whisper cutting through Sylvia’s gasps and the slick sounds of their coupling. "Sweet, innocent Becka..." John shuddered, trying to live through the overwhelming sensation of Sylvia’s wet heat gripping him. The imp pressed on. "Soft kisses. Innocent touches." Its eyes looked at John, accusation clear in them. "Not like bossy bitch." It gestured at Sylvia’s obscenely bouncing ass, her dripping cunt stretched wide around her son’s cock. "Not filthy... not hungry... not built for fucking like a beast." Sylvia snarled, pushing back harder. "Shut up!" she screamed at the imp. "He wants this!" She rocked her hips, emphasizing the sheer, overwhelming voluptuousness of her body – the impossible swell of her hips, the vast expanse of her ass swallowing John’s thrusts. "He wants me!"

The imp chuckled wetly. "Beckaa..." it whispered again, relentless. "Her tight little pussy... untouched... pure..." John groaned, burying his face between Sylvia’s shoulder blades, inhaling her musky sweat. He felt sickened, yet his hips moved instinctively, fucking deeper into his mother’s clenching heat. Sylvia reached back, her hand grabbing his thigh possessively. "She’s nothing!" Sylvia hissed, defending her depravity. "Does she have hips like mine?" She pushed her enormous ass back against him. "Tits like these?" Her heavy breasts swung beneath her. "Could she ever make you feel this... good?" She clenched her cunt muscles rhythmically, milking him. "Forget her, Johnny!"

The imp hissed its final barb: "Becka waits... believing you're good," the imp taunted, its smile widening. "While you rut your mother like a beast... eager to pump your filthy seed into her greedy womb..." John groaned, thrusting harder, deeper, burying his cock to the hilt in Sylvia’s wet heat. Sylvia snarled, twisting her head to glare at the creature. "My son IS good!" she gasped, her hips bucking violently against his thrusts, her enormous ass slamming back onto him. "He’s giving Mommy what she NEEDS!" Her voice cracked with possessive fury. "Becka couldn’t handle him!" Sylvia spat, venom dripping from each word. "Skinny hips? Flat ass? She doesn't have a chance." She slammed her hips back onto John’s cock with brutal force, her wet cunt slurping obscenely. "Johnny belongs HERE... buried in me... filling his mother’s aching womb!" She clenched her cunt muscles rhythmically, milking him, her giant ass rippling.

"Becka... dreams of wedding bells... babies..." the imp whispered, its voice dripping with mock innocence. John drove his cock deeper into Sylvia’s wet heat, each thrust punctuated by the obscene slap of flesh. Sylvia snarled, pushing her enormous ass back harder against him. "Wedding bells?" she spat. "She’d snap those skinny hips pushing out her brat!" Her fingers clawed at the table edge, knuckles white. "Babies? I’m the only womb fit for Johnny's seed!" The imp chuckled wetly, circling their joined bodies.

"Young Becka... fertile... gentle..." it hissed, emphasizing each word as John’s cock plunged into Sylvia’s clenching depths. "Not like bossy bitch... greedy..." Sylvia snarled, her wide hips pistoning back against John’s thrusts. "She’s a child!" she spat, sweat gleaming on her lower back. "Gentle? Timid?" Her laugh was harsh, guttural. "Could she take this?" She slammed her enormous ass onto him, forcing a choked gasp from John as her wet walls squeezed him. "Would she want it like I do?" Her fingers clawed at the table, knuckles white. "Her womb? Untested! Mine?" She arched deeper, presenting her vast, jiggling ass cheeks. "Built for breeding! Made for your seed!" The imp’s eyes glowed brighter, satisfied.

"Becka waits... dreaming of her wedding..." the creature whispered, circling the obscene union. "White dress... innocent..." Sylvia bucked violently, her heavy breasts swinging beneath her. "White dress?" she shrieked, venom dripping. "She’d stain it with her tears the first time he fucked her!" John groaned, burying his face between her shoulder blades, inhaling her musk. Sylvia clenched possessively around his buried shaft. "She doesn’t know him!" she hissed. "Doesn’t know the hunger I put in his blood!" Her hips ground in slow, filthy circles. "She’d whimper... break... while I beg for more!" The imp chuckled, its work complete. "Yes... mother knows son’s true hunger..."

Sylvia’s voice dropped to a possessive purr, thick with triumph. "Forget her, Johnny..." She reached back, her hand grasping his hip, pulling him deeper. "Fuck her out of your system..." Her enormous buttocks rippled against his groin. "Feel how good you fit... inside me..." She clenched again, milking him. "This cunt... this womb..." Her breath hitched. "Made for your cock... your babies..." She pushed her hips back in a slow, deliberate grind. "Take me... claim what’s yours..." The imp slithered back onto its pedestal, watching John’s resolve crumble.

John’s fingers dug into the immense swell of Sylvia’s hips, anchoring himself. The imp’s whispers faded beneath the roar of his own pulse, the slick, wet sounds of their joining, the overwhelming heat of her. He pulled back slowly, watching the glistening length of his cock emerge from her stretched, hairy folds. Sylvia whimpered, pushing back desperately. "No... stay inside... fill Mommy..." With a guttural groan, he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt once more. Sylvia screamed, her giant ass slamming against him. "YES! FUCK YOUR MOTHER!" Her head dropped, sweat-darkened hair sticking to her neck. "Give it to me... all of it..." The imp watched, silent now, as John surrendered completely. His thrusts became frantic, brutal, driven by a hunger that eclipsed guilt, shame, everything. Sylvia met each slam, her enormous body absorbing him, welcoming him home. Her moans rose to shrieks, raw and primal, echoing the imp’s silent satisfaction.

He felt it building – a molten pressure coiling at the base of his spine, unstoppable. Sylvia sensed it too. "Yes!" she screamed, twisting her head, her eyes wild, desperate. "DO IT, JOHNNY! PUMP YOUR SEED INTO MOMMY'S WOMB!" Her hips pistoned back violently, her vast ass cheeks rippling obscenely as she milked him. John roared, a sound ripped from his gut. He drove forward one final, punishing time, hilting himself impossibly deep inside her clenching heat. His hips locked against the monumental swell of her ass. Sylvia arched violently, her scream choked into a guttural sob. "OH GOD! YES!" Her body convulsed around him, her wide hips bucking wildly against his groin.

Inside her, deep within her fertile depths, he erupted. Scalding torrents of thick, pent-up seed surged from him in powerful, pulsing jets. Sylvia gasped, her body shuddering violently as each scalding rope painted her inner walls. "Good boy!" she choked out, her voice thick with tears and triumph. "Fill Mommy!" Her enormous ass slammed back against his hips, milking him, demanding every drop. Her wide hips bucked wildly, grinding her clenching cunt onto his throbbing cock, forcing the hot cum deeper. She could feel it flooding her, a searing, primal claim. "Oh god... yes... so deep..." Her fingers clawed at the table, knuckles white, as the sheer intensity of her son’s release sent shockwaves through her own body. Her womb clenched greedily around the invading heat, accepting its purpose.

John groaned, a raw, animal sound torn from his chest as he emptied himself completely into his mother. He stayed buried deep, his hips pressed flush against the monumental swell of her ass, his cock twitching weakly inside her spasming heat. Sylvia whimpered, pushing back one last time, her vast buttocks quivering against him. "That's it... give Mommy all of it..." Her voice was a ragged whisper now, thick with exhaustion and profound satisfaction. She felt impossibly full, her womb bathed in his scalding essence. A slow, slick trickle escaped her stretched entrance, tracing a wet path down her inner thigh – undeniable proof. She slumped forward, her heavy breasts pressing against the cool wood, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The scent of sex, sweat, and spent lust hung thick in the air.

John remained frozen, buried deep within her, his hands still gripping her wide hips. The crushing wave of guilt slammed back into him, sharper now, colder. Becka’s face swam in his mind – innocent, trusting. He’d just bred his own mother. He’d pumped his seed directly into her womb. The sheer, horrifying depravity of it stole his breath. He tried to pull back, to disengage from the overwhelming warmth and wetness that held him captive. Sylvia instantly clenched, a low moan escaping her. "No... stay..." she murmured, her voice thick and drowsy. "Stay inside Mommy... keep it warm..." Her hips shifted slightly, a possessive grind that kept him lodged deep within her slippery, cum-filled channel. Her enormous ass settled heavily against his groin, trapping him. "Feel how good... how right..." Her eyelids fluttered closed.

The imp watched from its perch, its jagged teeth bared in a silent grin of pure malevolence. Its eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, fixed on the obscene union – mother impaled on son, her wide hips cradling him, her fertile womb swimming with his forbidden seed. It didn't speak. It didn't need to. The deed was done. The corruption was complete. Its clawed fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden armrest, a slow, satisfied drumbeat echoing the ragged breathing filling the room. John shuddered, unable to move, pinned by Sylvia’s possessive weight and the crushing weight of what he’d done. The thick scent of sex mingled with something darker, a promise of consequences yet to unfold. Sylvia sighed, a sound of utter, sated contentment, her body radiating heat against his. "My good boy..." she breathed, almost too softly to hear. "My Johnny..." Her fingers relaxed their grip on the table edge. Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by their shared breaths and the faint, wet sounds where their bodies remained locked together.