It gets worse.

The time Brenda spent while John was at school was wrought with frightened, wasted energy for the curvy milf. Her morning, which started regretful and in near anguish from the aftermath of the previous night's mistake, devolved in a way that she could not have anticipated. When she woke up sticky, sore, surprisingly limber, and somehow still really horny, Brenda Newman, with what little control she had left over her libido, got up and tried to talk to her son about what they had done.

It wasn't until early morning that the brunette woman teetered her way out of a bed that wasn't her own and over to the bathroom where she picked up the light sounds of someone showering. The need for clothes had long since been forgotten and, by the time she remembered, she had gone too far and felt too unsteady to try and dress herself anyways.

When she actually did get to the bathroom, it was quieter than she realized it should have been. The sounds of her footsteps were drowned out to the both of them by the shared looming sense of this upcoming talk. When she literally stumbled upon something that she found herself unable to make sense of; Brenda Newman found herself speechless as she watched her son flex in front of a mirror while his body began to ripple and change before her. She watched, with growing horror in her eyes, as his muscles began to shift and move, twisting beneath a layer of skin like some kind of monster in a tanned, fleshy suit. At least until he was not only physically stronger and firmer than before but, visibly too.

He didn't say anything when he noticed her. Not at first. What he did say, just before he left for school for the day...it just seemed so minimal at the time to her. In her eyes, it was as if he hadn't even bothered to talk to her at all back then. It wasn't very long after that that she picked up the phone, and it took her an even shorter amount of time to flood him with message after message. She didn't even bother to get dressed before spamming him with dozens of messages in the small amount of time it took him to look at his phone. Despite the fact that she came up with a thousand good reasons why her son would have left in such a hurry like that.

The one reason she came up with that worried her the most though, was that it had been because of her.

For what felt like half an hour, Brenda sat around waiting for John to answer her. When he did actually reply to her, it did little to lift the weight bearing down on her heart.

Now John's mother was a vigilant woman in her more recent years. She was a mother after all; she just had to be. She was not a gamer, like her son, and she didn't know how to deal with one. She was not a comic book fan or a movie buff. She liked those things, of course, but they weren't the important thing in her life. The most important thing had been her son.

So it wasn't that hard of a leap for her in the end to jump to hasty conclusions... or perhaps ridiculous ones, after all the news reports and research she had read through for her son. After all, based on everything she had seen over the past two days, John seemed like he had pretty much changed overnight. It wasn't just in his personality either; he had changed physically too. She had seen him grow stronger... his skin tone seemed healthier... she had felt his...cock actually grow inside her... and he had even gotten a job!

It was like he had become a whole different person! And somehow, in the end, that idea made sense to her. If it was something else inside her son, controlling him, then why couldn't it have changed him like that, right?

"Maybe..." she mumbled to herself, still hunched over her phone, "...he's an alien."

For the first few seconds in the house after John got back, the only sound that could be heard in the area was the sound of John's heavy breathing. His eyes, as teary as they were from running so hard, were now locked onto the image of his drunken mother as she waved a wine bottle at him.

He didn't speak, at least not for a minute. Until he heard the sound of footsteps again when they began to soften and disappear as whatever was outside moved away from the front door. When the world finally did fall silent again for John, he tried to speak, and his voice cracked when he did.

"Wha-" he started breathlessly, and immediately began coughing harshly.

"Here..." she mumbled and came stomping down the staircase, bottle held aloft for John. It didn't help.

After the halfway drawn conclusions Brenda made about John, things began to crash and burn in the mind of the busty milf. Normally, she wasn't the type of person to act on such conclusions, or at least not stupidly, and especially not when she wasn't sure about whether or not they were true. When she wound up stuck at home all day though, with nothing but her own thoughts and assumptions left to plague her, there wasn't much else for her to do but to work on them.

So the very first thing she did was... retrace John's steps. If he was being controlled by something, then she needed to find out how and when it happened. This eventually led her to the computer. John's computer... and the internet. The first thing she did was look up symptoms. She tried to find sicknesses or diseases, anything that could have explained what had been happening to her son. Strangely enough, the medical sites she went to all had the same answer for everything.

Of course, it was always cancer. So she popped open a bottle of wine.

Eventually, she managed to move past the 'medical advice' that the internet had for her and moved into something that seemed a little more professional. At least at first... It started off simple with normal little stories for her to sort through. Until she found something that upon reading through the description of it, actually seemed kind of similar to her situation.

The problem was... her situation was pretty unique and searching about stuff like her situation led Brenda through results that came back with a nature that wasn't entirely... innocent or informative. In fact, the intent she found lying behind all her search results were all either extremely paranoid or perverted. Eventually, this led her to stumble across one particular story by an author who went by the username 'Jeehan.' An author that, for some unknown reason, popped up almost immediately when she searched about the more sordid symptoms of what had happened to John.

The author, whoever he was, actually had a knack for writing stories of the erotic nature... At least as far as Brenda was concerned. Before long the freshly fucked milf found herself writhing again, this time in her son's computer chair.

She tried to resist it again, she really did, but Brenda's libido had been astronomically high and hard to control even before she had slept with John. Yet with the residual heat of the room, her newfound erotica, and just the overall smell of the acts from the previous night all overwhelming her... It just became too much for her to handle. Brenda didn't even really get a chance to stop herself before she was teasing herself into a new puddle of her juices. A puddle that she left on John's seat as she buried her face into one of the many worn pairs of cum-stained boxers left around his room.

When John got home, she still had those boxers with her. The only difference was that they were the only thing she chose to actually wear that day once she started to make too much of a mess in her son's gaming chair. She didn't really need them for the taste or smell after all. Not when she had the pungent mess the two of them had made in his sheets to roll around in, so instead she stretched his boxers out over her wide and womanly hips.

Brenda spent hours playing with herself in that bed. If she paid attention to it, the amount of time that she spent in that bed would have even surprised her. The fingers, and toys, she had were used through while wearing his clothes had soaked her stolen underwear through. The dripping, squelching brief's which had once been light grey in color were almost a dark and soiled black. She had been rubbing and grinding his boxers into her sex for so long by that point that, when she approached, John could hear the cloth squishing audibly with the seductive sway of her meaty hips.

Her whole body was covered in a thick layer of sweat and various other juices from her own 'workout' as she stomped down the steps. Her breasts, bare and glistening in the main room light, bounced high on her chest with each heavy, drunken step. His eyes were glued to her as she moved, watching as her tits lewdly bounced and clapped together in the air. Brenda, somehow, seemed completely careless for the way her swollen, puffy, sensitive nipples bobbed in the air as she walked, tracing large circles with each rotation. For how high her breasts bounced up, they fell just as heavily, and both struggled in vain to jiggle to a complete stop before she reached John.

John let out a loud grunt, followed by a slam, as his mother practically fell into him the moment she got close. The wine bottle slipped through her fingers as he crashed backwards against the main door, and the sound of her drink bouncing of the ground went largely unnoticed. His mother, in her drunken stupor, gave up the shaft of one bottle for a different kind of shaft entirely.

"Isz it bigger than before?" she gasped as her fingers struggled to wrap around him with one hand while the other unfastened his pants.

"M-mom..." John stammered and tried to grab her, but it was too late. The moment she touched him, it was like both of the Newmans had changed into different people. John's change had gotten him his powers. Brenda's... Well, the succubus that was her instinct took over. The second her fingers touched his cock, her hands were moving, stroking and twisting along his length with a skill that John couldn't have expected. Even after the night they had spent together. In mere seconds, his pants and boxers were on the ground, and his cock was rigid and bobbing in her grasp.

"A-are..." There was a pause from his mother as she tried to speak, only to be cut off by her own loud gulp when she looked at him. Her head lifted and John watched as she looked up at him with hazy, glistening eyes. Her heartbeat, which he felt through her breasts when she leaned on him with all ofher bodily weight, was pounding. Her nipples stabbed into John's front as her chest squished and bulged around the front of his torso. The rest of the world finally fell silent around them while they stood there, Brenda's fingers squeezing gently up into the head of his shaft as she stroked him. There were no footsteps. No hateful stares... though there was a drunken one.

"Are you h-here to probe us?" she asked finally.