Liam was twenty-five, single, and completely consumed.
It wasn't just porn—it was a fixation. Mature women. The kind with full, heavy breasts that strained against fabric, wide hips that swayed hypnotically, thick asses that jiggled with every step. And beneath it all, he imagined them always ready: plump, pink pussies glistening with arousal, dripping wet just from a glance.
He spent hours scrolling through videos and stories, jerking off to fantasies of seducing neighborhood moms, his boss's wife, even actresses in their forties with those perfect, experienced bodies. Young girls did nothing for him. He craved the ripeness, the softness, the way a real woman's body moved and responded.
That fateful night, he was crossing the street after another late session, mind still replaying a scene of a busty housewife bent over a kitchen counter, her soaked folds parting invitingly.
He never saw the truck.
Headlights. Screech. Impact.
Darkness.
When Liam opened his eyes, he wasn't in a hospital. He floated in a void of soft white light, facing a beautiful goddess-like figure with flowing silver hair and an amused smile.
"Welcome, reincarnated soul," she said, voice like silk. "You've been chosen for a second life in a medieval fantasy world. As compensation for your... untimely end, I'll grant you a gift."
Liam blinked. Truck-kun. Classic isekai shit. His heart raced—not from fear, but excitement. A new world full of fantasy MILFs? Elf matrons with centuries of experience? Busty human noblewomen? Dripping-wet orc chieftains' wives?
"What kind of gift?" he asked eagerly.
The goddess smirked, as if reading his perverted thoughts. "Two abilities. First: **Hypnosis**. You can entrance any woman with your gaze and voice, planting suggestions that feel utterly natural to her. She'll desire you, obey subtle commands, and crave your touch— but it builds slowly, like true seduction."
"Second: **Disguise**. Change your appearance at will—age, build, race, even mimic specific people perfectly. No mana cost, unlimited use."
Liam's cock twitched in the void. Perfect. With these, he could infiltrate anywhere, become anyone, and claim every voluptuous MILF he desired.
"No restrictions?" he pressed.
The goddess winked. "Enjoy your new life, pervert."
Light engulfed him.
He awoke in a forest clearing, naked but unharmed. His body felt the same—fit, average build, short brown hair. But when he focused, his reflection in a nearby stream shifted: taller, muscular, elven features. Back to normal with a thought.
A grin spread across his face.
Time to hunt.
The nearest village was a quaint medieval settlement called Eldenbrook—wooden houses, cobblestone paths, adventurers in leather armor passing through.
Liam disguised himself as a traveling merchant: mid-thirties, handsome but unassuming, with a trimmed beard and fine clothes he "found" abandoned in the woods (actually conjured via disguise illusion).
He needed information, food, and—most importantly—a target.
The busiest spot was the Golden Hearth Inn. As he entered, the scent of ale and stew hit him, along with the sight of her.
Elena, the innkeeper's wife.
Mid-forties, with sun-kissed skin and auburn hair tied in a loose bun. Her simple dress couldn't hide her assets: massive breasts, easily F-cups, straining the fabric with every breath. Her hips flared wide, leading to a thick, heart-shaped ass that swayed as she carried trays. She laughed with patrons, maternal yet unknowingly sensual.
Liam's obsession ignited. He imagined peeling that dress off, watching those heavy tits spill free, nipples hard. Burying his face in her cleavage while she moaned. Spreading her thick thighs to reveal that pink, dripping pussy, soaked just for him.
He sat at a corner table, ordering stew. Elena served him personally, smiling warmly.
"New in town, handsome? Name's Elena. My husband runs the place, but I'm the one who keeps it lively."
Her voice was husky, inviting. Up close, her cleavage was mesmerizing—deep, soft valley glistening slightly with sweat from the kitchen heat.
"Liam," he replied, meeting her eyes. Time to test the hypnosis subtly. Slow burn, he reminded himself. No rushing.
As she leaned over to set down his plate, he locked gazes and spoke softly. "You feel... relaxed around me. Comfortable. Like we've known each other forever."
Her eyes glazed for a split second, then cleared. She blinked, smiling wider. "Odd... you do feel familiar. Stay as long as you like, love. Discount for friends."
It worked. Planted seed.
Over the next days, Liam rented a room, lingering at the inn. He used disguise sparingly—just himself, building trust.
Each interaction, a light hypnosis suggestion:
"You're drawn to me. You think about me when alone."
"You feel warm when I look at you. A pleasant tingle."
Elena began seeking him out. Brushing against him unnecessarily. Laughing at his jokes a bit too hard. Her cheeks flushed when their eyes met.
One evening, after closing, she brought him extra ale. "Can't sleep?" she asked, sitting across from him. Her dress was lower-cut tonight, tits nearly spilling out.
"Thinking about a beautiful woman," he said, gazing deeply. "She has the most incredible body. Full breasts... curves that drive a man wild."
Elena's breath hitched. Suggestion amplifying her natural response. "Oh? Tell me more."
He leaned in. "I imagine her pussy... so pink and wet. Dripping with need."
She shifted in her seat, thighs pressing together. A soft whimper escaped. "Liam... that's improper."
But her eyes begged for more.
Slow burn. He stood, brushing her hand. "Goodnight, Elena."
She watched him go, hand drifting unconsciously between her legs.
A week of teasing. Elena was hooked—hypnosis weaving desire into her thoughts. She dreamed of him nightly, waking with soaked sheets, fingers circling her aching clit.
Her husband was away on a supply run. Perfect.
Liam knocked on her private quarters late at night.
"Elena... I can't stop thinking about you."
She opened the door in a thin nightgown, nipples poking through. "Liam... we shouldn't. I'm married."
But her voice lacked conviction. Eyes glazed as he met her gaze.
"You want this. You've always wanted a man who truly appreciates your body. Let me show you."
Suggestion hit. She stepped aside, pulling him in.
They kissed slowly—tongues dancing, hands exploring. His palms cupped her massive breasts, thumbs circling nipples until she moaned into his mouth.
"So big... so perfect," he groaned, lifting the gown off.
Her body was a masterpiece: heavy tits sagging just right with age, wide hips, thick ass. And between her thighs—exactly as he fantasized. Plump outer lips framing a glistening pink slit, already dripping wet, juices trailing down her inner thighs.
"You're soaked," he whispered, fingers tracing her folds. She shuddered, knees buckling.
"For you... gods, only for you."
He laid her on the bed, worshipping her body. Sucking those fat nipples until milked moans filled the room. Kneading her ass while fingering her slowly—two fingers curling inside that hot, velvety pussy, thumb on her swollen clit.
Elena bucked, crying out as she came hard, pussy clenching, squirting lightly onto his hand.
Then he positioned himself, cock throbbing. Thick head nudging her entrance.
"Slow," she begged, even as hips lifted.
He pushed in—inch by inch into that dripping paradise. Tight despite her age, walls massaging him perfectly.
They fucked slow and deep at first—him thrusting while sucking her tits, her legs wrapped around him.
Faster then. Bed creaking. Her ass jiggling with each slap of skin.
"Liam! Fill me... please!"
He pounded harder, feeling her cum again—pussy gushing around his shaft.
With a roar, he erupted inside, flooding her womb with hot seed.
They collapsed, panting. But he wasn't done. Round two: her riding him, massive boobs bouncing as she ground on his cock, pink pussy swallowing him whole.
By dawn, Elena was addicted—hypnotized into craving more, but feeling it as true love.
One MILF down. Countless to go.
The kingdom's queens, duchesses, elf elders... all would fall.