Pairs of Pumpkins Episode 12: Midnight Schemes and Lucid Dreams
Portia and Anastasia stop in the city of Renvil to check on the welfare of one Waldemar Tuchel the 3rd, one of her many lost sons. A stealth mission becomes an unlikely reunion and an unbelievable dream.
_“Pairs of Pumpkins” is erotic, dark fantasy adventure following a freewheeling, busty adventuress whose life gets turned upside down when she discovers a handsome, young lover is part of a vast family she didn’t know she had. Now she can’t figure out which is worse: having enough of a conscience to know she must be the hero to her newfound family or the fact that she had sex with her son… and loved it. _
_Season 2: Having reconciled her perverse addiction and her motherly responsibilities for now, Portia and her wizard daughter Anastasia are deep into a grand mission: stop the evil wizard Zarron from breeding and selling her children, and making sure every last child of hers is safe and accounted for, even if it means their small family swells to a clan, unwieldy in more ways than one! _
PAIRS OF PUMPKINS 12:
##
MIDNIGHT SCHEMES AND LUCID DREAMS
by Jess Faulks
CHAPTER 1
The warm light of gas lamps threw long shadows on the cobblestone streets of Renvil city but only two shadows were particularly broad. Portia Pridemoon and her daughter, Anastasia walked down the main boulevard, their robe-draped figures turning the heads of passers by and the frequent Night Watch patrols. The Watch acknowledged the pair professionally, with polite nods and only the occasional, curious look.
A trio of them, two rams and a possum eventually stopped the pair of vixens out at a questionable hour of the night and wearing clothes ill-suited for the season.
“You came all the way from White Port wearing only that? This time of year?"
"Are you pilgrims of some sort?”
In the dusky light between the streetlamps, they could see the two younger of them stealing glances at their chests and the way nipples reacted to the winter air.
“Not quite. We’re from far north and our natural coats are more than enough for this kind of cold. It’s hard to find anything else that will fit us. Especially my daughter here!” Portia gave her daughter a grope to watch them squirm.
They exchanged unsure looks but otherwise maintained their professionalism.
“We’re just travelers on our way to visit family here in Renvil. My son lives off Heffelauch Square with his father.”
“Ah, so you’ve been here before?”
“Indeed, I have. A few times.”
The presumable leader of the three watchmen shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips, taking the confident, practiced posture of an authority figure about to explain the obvious. “Well, be mindful. The people of Renvil are polite but at this hour, the drunks are about. We don’t get many women here who look like you two.”
“We hear that everywhere but home,” Portia glanced over to Anastasia, her tense jaw resisting a smile. “But yes, of course. Thank you! We'll do our best to take care of ourselves.”
“I hope you find your son in good health. Goodnight, ma’am.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. A lovely night to you.” The watchmen turned, seeming to not agree for a moment which direction to go but thankfully, it was not forward and the two vixens proceeded on their way,
They walked in silence until they were well out of earshot.
“Do you think we’ll find Waldemar in good health?” Anastasia asked with a wry grin.
“I hope we find him with a healthy erection. We might have sent Anton and Laszlo away too soon. After so many days getting double-stuffed by those two, I feel like a sock puppet without an arm.”
“We needed to get back to the rescues, mother. They were slowing us down.”
“I know, I know. It was nonstop with those two. Neither of them had ever been allowed anal as breeders and they were obsessed with it. I’m worried about them being back in The Pale Lands.”
Anastasia blushed. “I’m worried about Constance being the only woman in the house with six horny boys who aren’t bothered by incest. Maybe seven tomorrow.’
“I am too. Everything is a bit lopsided right now but there’s more older daughters on the list soon.”
“Are they going to want to have sex with their brothers?”
“Ana, don’t be disgusting.”
Anastasia paused to raise a brow at her mother. “You’re packing a house full of teenagers who you had sex with, then nothing. They live in a remote cabin with no one around for miles. No women, except for Constance.”
“The plan was always to visit.”
“The road keeps us so busy.”
“It does.”
“There’s already six of them. How are you going to handle visits?”
Portia shrugged with a crooked wince. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You hate teleportation.”
“It’s dangerous!”
Ana huffed aloud. “Constance’s plan makes sense for the rescue missions. We need one for the community we’re building too.”
Her mother scrunched her face. “Community?”
“Nineteen children under one roof? That’s more than a family.”
“I suppose it is. So what are you suggesting?”
“We rescue some daughters to fill in for you…”
Portia’s cheeks sank and her eyes widened in the pause.
The younger vixen watched and waited, pursing her mouth with mischief. “...getting filled.”
“Ana!”
She was nonplussed. “Sisters who would have sex with their brothers.”
“Gods no. I’m not dragging more people into my perversion.”
“Only your sons.”
Portia glared.
“I’m not judging you but it’s a double-standard. Constance is managing things well but she’s not going to manage this. Anya is far away, training in Westerkerk. I’m here with you doing rescues.”
The elder vixen diverted her walk to pace a small circle, shaking her head while Ana stopped to watch and wait.
“What about moving Marina up there?" she suggested. "She may not mind.”
Coming to a stop, Portia turned and snapped. “We saved her from being a whore. I’m not going to whore her out to her brothers!”
The volume of her raised voice turned the head of a graying old bear, walking along a cross street some ways ahead. He did a double take and continued on his way.
The two exchanged aware looks, Portia with a wince and Ana straight-faced. Stepping up, she took her daughter by the shoulders, arms at full extension and still mashing their chests together. “I’m not going to forbid any daughter or son of mine from doing anything they want, including following in my disgusting footsteps but I’m not going to encourage it either. Besides, you said Marina was happy with Booker when you saw her and he must like having her around.”
Ana nodded and her mother pulled her in a squeeze that mocked the way less bulky people would hug, before letting go. “Come on.”
They started moving again, Ana slower now, musing. “Remember when I told you about the Insatiables?”
“I remember that word. Something about Zarron’s weird projects, like the Purebloods. Refresh my memory?”
“Zarron didn’t document it in the ledger but a customer requested a daughter as a gift for a Sultan's harem, who couldn’t get pregnant and would be sexually insatiable. He concluded that wasn't the first time he was going to get such a request so he decided to make them in small batches so they'd be ready to sell when asked for. Once a year he made a batch of identical sextuplet females and flipped every trait he could to improve their libidos and sexual appeal. It was a lot of guessing, by my understanding."
"He didn't change their breasts though," she added. "A little, but not as much as he did when he made me. That would be too big for an idealized sex-maniac. Apparently I needed these giant things in the way of all the books Zarron knew I'd need to read.” She inhaled and sighed. Portia reached out to comfort her, her daughter's shoulder the easiest to reach above the expanse of her prodigious chest.
“He sold them for half the price because buyers couldn’t customize them. They were "off the shelf" as he said. Also, he was sure that splitting an egg six ways affected their intelligence, so he thought they would all be dim-witted. Either way, it was a 300% return over a full priced egg. He made them infertile, so there’d never be any time lost to pregnancy or recovery but also, so people couldn’t breed more of them and get around paying full price.”
“Nothing that sick fuck did should surprise me anymore,” Portia shook her head. “So he bred and sold girls who grow up to be nymphomaniacs?”
Ana nodded. “You can find them in the ledger because they’re sextuplets, all with same first letter of their name and usually, never to the same buyer. Zarron wouldn't tell them but he told me: he was sure nobody could handle more than one. Every year he changed their names by one letter.”
“Like Ana and Anya?”
“No, the starting letter. The first six were Ella, Eden, Ember, Esme, Eve and Eliza, would all be grown up by now. The next year was Fiona, Flora, Freya, Fay, Fallon and Fern. After that, Grace, Greta, Gloria, Gwendolyn…”
“I get it, thank you.”
“They’re already high priority on your list because they were all bought purely for sex but…”
“...bringing some of them home sooner might keep that house from flooding with sperm.” Her mother continued.
“Or pregnancies! Plus they’re old enough to help Constance and the boys take care of the place, if they’re able to think about anything else.”
Portia nodded. “Speaking of getting flooded with sperm, we’re here,” She gestured with her head as she passed a row of elegant townhouses.
“Mother?”
Ana slowed to a stop and the elder vixen hissed back. “Keep walking if we’re going to keep talking.”
“Wait.”
Ana muttered an incantation before her eyes glowed a sparkling gold that pierced the night. She scanned the house from top to bottom, then the area around them before blinking away the magical effect.
“It’s clear. Two adults, three teenagers. All asleep,” Ana said and in a few brisk steps, caught up with her mother.
“Do you understand what I mean about a community? You’ve already saved brothers and sisters who have never met each other. There are going to be so many more in the future.”
“I know, dear and I think about that too. Hopefully we can sort that out soon when we get to Brummel. There they’ll have more than just family to keep them company. The boys will meet other girls. Perhaps get married and have kits of their own." After a moment, she added: "outside the bloodline.”
“There could be more than thirty by the time we get to Brummel. Can they handle so many?”
“I don't know but it gives us one more safe place. And with Stusport re-open…”
“Mother, don’t normal families live in the same house? Or at least the same town?”
Portia sighed and frowned. “I wouldn't consider where I came from a normal family but yes, they do. Sometimes until the younger generation are grown up and other times, forever. But I have a whole town’s worth of children, then what? Should we establish our own town?”
“Our family is large enough to. And as uncommon as we look, we should be somewhere that looking unusual isn't unusual. That’s part of why Constance joined us, right? She knew her potential but no one would take her seriously because of her chest.”
“I think all of us have that in common.”
Ana nodded with a hint of excitement. “Yes! We could start a new settlement that can support the whole, growing family. A frontier of our own, where people don't look at us like we're freaks. Or that failing, find a place that desperately needs a population infusion, that we can be some majority of. I don’t know about that but Constance will.”
Portia rubbed her temples. “We’re so close to Brummel already and only two more missions between here and there. Let’s stick with the plan until then, okay? After that, we will have to do some reshuffling regardless.”
Ana’s gaze dropped to the ground but her mother was alongside her again, a hand at her back.
“I hear you, Anastasia and I agree with you. We’ll take care of it. For now, let’s get this done. It’s going to look suspicious if we loop around a second time.”
“Of course,” Ana nodded. “but we can strip down in the next alley. We’re going in invisible, after all.”
Portia hissed out a breath and turned away to roll her eyes. “Right. Invisible.”
(This story has been edited more thoroughly than the last time I shared it here but it's the same story, if you've already read it.)
“Pairs of Pumpkins” is erotic, dark fantasy adventure following a freewheeling, busty adventuress whose life gets turned upside down when she discovers a handsome, young lover is part of a vast family she didn’t know she had. Now she can’t figure out which is worse: having enough of a conscience to know she must be the hero to her newfound family or the fact that she had sex with her son… and loved it.
Season 2: Having reconciled her perverse addiction and her motherly responsibilities for now, Portia and her wizard daughter Anastasia are deep into a grand mission: stop the evil wizard Zarron from breeding and selling her children, and making sure every last child of hers is safe and accounted for, even if it means their small family swells to a clan, unwieldy in more ways than one!
PAIRS OF PUMPKINS 12:
MIDNIGHT SCHEMES AND LUCID DREAMS
by Jess Faulks
CHAPTER 1
The warm light of gas lamps threw long shadows on the cobblestone streets of Renvil city but only two shadows were particularly broad. Portia Pridemoon and her daughter, Anastasia walked down the main boulevard, their robe-draped figures turning the heads of passers by and the frequent Night Watch patrols. The Watch acknowledged the pair professionally, with polite nods and only the occasional, curious look.
A trio of them, two rams and a possum eventually stopped the pair of vixens out at a questionable hour of the night and wearing clothes ill-suited for the season.
“You came all the way from White Port wearing only that? This time of year?"
"Are you pilgrims of some sort?”
In the dusky light between the streetlamps, they could see the two younger of them stealing glances at their chests and the way nipples reacted to the winter air.
“Not quite. We’re from far north and our natural coats are more than enough for this kind of cold. It’s hard to find anything else that will fit us. Especially my daughter here!” Portia gave her daughter a grope to watch them squirm.
They exchanged unsure looks but otherwise maintained their professionalism.
“We’re just travelers on our way to visit family here in Renvil. My son lives off Heffelauch Square with his father.”
“Ah, so you’ve been here before?”
“Indeed, I have. A few times.”
The presumable leader of the three watchmen shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips, taking the confident, practiced posture of an authority figure about to explain the obvious. “Well, be mindful. The people of Renvil are polite but at this hour, the drunks are about. We don’t get many women here who look like you two.”
“We hear that everywhere but home,” Portia glanced over to Anastasia, her tense jaw resisting a smile. “But yes, of course. Thank you! We'll do our best to take care of ourselves.”
“I hope you find your son in good health. Goodnight, ma’am.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. A lovely night to you.” The watchmen turned, seeming to not agree for a moment which direction to go but thankfully, it was not forward and the two vixens proceeded on their way,
They walked in silence until they were well out of earshot.
“Do you think we’ll find Waldemar in good health?” Anastasia asked with a wry grin.
“I hope we find him with a healthy erection. We might have sent Anton and Laszlo away too soon. After so many days getting double-stuffed by those two, I feel like a sock puppet without an arm.”
“We needed to get back to the rescues, mother. They were slowing us down.”
“I know, I know. It was nonstop with those two. Neither of them had ever been allowed anal as breeders and they were obsessed with it. I’m worried about them being back in The Pale Lands.”
Anastasia blushed. “I’m worried about Constance being the only woman in the house with six horny boys who aren’t bothered by incest. Maybe seven tomorrow.’
“I am too. Everything is a bit lopsided right now but there’s more older daughters on the list soon.”
“Are they going to want to have sex with their brothers?”
“Ana, don’t be disgusting.”
Anastasia paused to raise a brow at her mother. “You’re packing a house full of teenagers who you had sex with, then nothing. They live in a remote cabin with no one around for miles. No women, except for Constance.”
“The plan was always to visit.”
“The road keeps us so busy.”
“It does.”
“There’s already six of them. How are you going to handle visits?”
Portia shrugged with a crooked wince. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You hate teleportation.”
“It’s dangerous!”
Ana huffed aloud. “Constance’s plan makes sense for the rescue missions. We need one for the community we’re building too.”
Her mother scrunched her face. “Community?”
“Nineteen children under one roof? That’s more than a family.”
“I suppose it is. So what are you suggesting?”
“We rescue some daughters to fill in for you…”
Portia’s cheeks sank and her eyes widened in the pause.
The younger vixen watched and waited, pursing her mouth with mischief. “...getting filled.”
“Ana!”
She was nonplussed. “Sisters who would have sex with their brothers.”
“Gods no. I’m not dragging more people into my perversion.”
“Only your sons.”
Portia glared.
“I’m not judging you but it’s a double-standard. Constance is managing things well but she’s not going to manage this. Anya is far away, training in Westerkerk. I’m here with you doing rescues.”
The elder vixen diverted her walk to pace a small circle, shaking her head while Ana stopped to watch and wait.
“What about moving Marina up there?" she suggested. "She may not mind.”
Coming to a stop, Portia turned and snapped. “We saved her from being a whore. I’m not going to whore her out to her brothers!”
The volume of her raised voice turned the head of a graying old bear, walking along a cross street some ways ahead. He did a double take and continued on his way.
The two exchanged aware looks, Portia with a wince and Ana straight-faced. Stepping up, she took her daughter by the shoulders, arms at full extension and still mashing their chests together. “I’m not going to forbid any daughter or son of mine from doing anything they want, including following in my disgusting footsteps but I’m not going to encourage it either. Besides, you said Marina was happy with Booker when you saw her and he must like having her around.”
Ana nodded and her mother pulled her in a squeeze that mocked the way less bulky people would hug, before letting go. “Come on.”
They started moving again, Ana slower now, musing. “Remember when I told you about the Insatiables?”
“I remember that word. Something about Zarron’s weird projects, like the Purebloods. Refresh my memory?”
“Zarron didn’t document it in the ledger but a customer requested a daughter as a gift for a Sultan's harem, who couldn’t get pregnant and would be sexually insatiable. He concluded that wasn't the first time he was going to get such a request so he decided to make them in small batches so they'd be ready to sell when asked for. Once a year he made a batch of identical sextuplet females and flipped every trait he could to improve their libidos and sexual appeal. It was a lot of guessing, by my understanding."
"He didn't change their breasts though," she added. "A little, but not as much as he did when he made me. That would be too big for an idealized sex-maniac. Apparently I needed these giant things in the way of all the books Zarron knew I'd need to read.” She inhaled and sighed. Portia reached out to comfort her, her daughter's shoulder the easiest to reach above the expanse of her prodigious chest.
“He sold them for half the price because buyers couldn’t customize them. They were "off the shelf" as he said. Also, he was sure that splitting an egg six ways affected their intelligence, so he thought they would all be dim-witted. Either way, it was a 300% return over a full priced egg. He made them infertile, so there’d never be any time lost to pregnancy or recovery but also, so people couldn’t breed more of them and get around paying full price.”
“Nothing that sick fuck did should surprise me anymore,” Portia shook her head. “So he bred and sold girls who grow up to be nymphomaniacs?”
Ana nodded. “You can find them in the ledger because they’re sextuplets, all with same first letter of their name and usually, never to the same buyer. Zarron wouldn't tell them but he told me: he was sure nobody could handle more than one. Every year he changed their names by one letter.”
“Like Ana and Anya?”
“No, the starting letter. The first six were Ella, Eden, Ember, Esme, Eve and Eliza, would all be grown up by now. The next year was Fiona, Flora, Freya, Fay, Fallon and Fern. After that, Grace, Greta, Gloria, Gwendolyn…”
“I get it, thank you.”
“They’re already high priority on your list because they were all bought purely for sex but…”
“...bringing some of them home sooner might keep that house from flooding with sperm.” Her mother continued.
“Or pregnancies! Plus they’re old enough to help Constance and the boys take care of the place, if they’re able to think about anything else.”
Portia nodded. “Speaking of getting flooded with sperm, we’re here,” She gestured with her head as she passed a row of elegant townhouses.
“Mother?”
Ana slowed to a stop and the elder vixen hissed back. “Keep walking if we’re going to keep talking.”
“Wait.”
Ana muttered an incantation before her eyes glowed a sparkling gold that pierced the night. She scanned the house from top to bottom, then the area around them before blinking away the magical effect.
“It’s clear. Two adults, three teenagers. All asleep,” Ana said and in a few brisk steps, caught up with her mother.
“Do you understand what I mean about a community? You’ve already saved brothers and sisters who have never met each other. There are going to be so many more in the future.”
“I know, dear and I think about that too. Hopefully we can sort that out soon when we get to Brummel. There they’ll have more than just family to keep them company. The boys will meet other girls. Perhaps get married and have kits of their own." After a moment, she added: "outside the bloodline.”
“There could be more than thirty by the time we get to Brummel. Can they handle so many?”
“I don't know but it gives us one more safe place. And with Stusport re-open…”
“Mother, don’t normal families live in the same house? Or at least the same town?”
Portia sighed and frowned. “I wouldn't consider where I came from a normal family but yes, they do. Sometimes until the younger generation are grown up and other times, forever. But I have a whole town’s worth of children, then what? Should we establish our own town?”
“Our family is large enough to. And as uncommon as we look, we should be somewhere that looking unusual isn't unusual. That’s part of why Constance joined us, right? She knew her potential but no one would take her seriously because of her chest.”
“I think all of us have that in common.”
Ana nodded with a hint of excitement. “Yes! We could start a new settlement that can support the whole, growing family. A frontier of our own, where people don't look at us like we're freaks. Or that failing, find a place that desperately needs a population infusion, that we can be some majority of. I don’t know about that but Constance will.”
Portia rubbed her temples. “We’re so close to Brummel already and only two more missions between here and there. Let’s stick with the plan until then, okay? After that, we will have to do some reshuffling regardless.”
Ana’s gaze dropped to the ground but her mother was alongside her again, a hand at her back.
“I hear you, Anastasia and I agree with you. We’ll take care of it. For now, let’s get this done. It’s going to look suspicious if we loop around a second time.”
“Of course,” Ana nodded. “but we can strip down in the next alley. We’re going in invisible, after all.”
Portia hissed out a breath and turned away to roll her eyes. “Right. Invisible.”
Robes and packs were stashed under dry overhangs in the alley before Anastasia drew the Invisibility runes on their naked backs and chests. They’d developed a practice to only use runes of Silence in particularly dangerous situations after finding the inability to whisper to one another more trouble than it was worth. Ana had other means to isolate and deaden sound than the runes, should they need to.
Holding hands, they approached the house of Lord Waldemar Tuchel the second, a minor noble and father to Waldermar the 3rd, a son conceived of his father’s seed and Portia’s egg. He was considered a low risk rescue for being adopted into a family and an heir but he was along the way to Brummel, so they could at least check one more off the list.
They arrived at the front door and Ana stepped up to it. Coordinating while invisible was something they’d grown practiced at, however reluctantly for the magic-averse mother. When only her daughter was hidden, it was much easier: Ana would follow her mother and communicate by gentle swats at her tail or taps on her shoulder. The tail was the easiest, as both women struggled with the spatial awareness of themselves when invisible.
A minor cantrip at the lock of the door unlatched it and the unseen Anastasia had to open it all the way before she could squeeze herself through. Portia followed through the threshold then eased the door closed behind them with her free hand.
The house was lavish with wealth and decor, a bit busy and gauche and with a slight smell of must but that was standard for noble’s houses. Her daughter led her across the foyer to the base of a staircase not much wider than Portia and a tight squeeze for Anastasia.
"When we build our community, can we build it with really wide stairs?" the younger vixen whispered with annoyance in her voice.
"I've only been to a few places in the world where the architects were so thoughtful." Portia let go of her hand and took hold of her tail. "Ready when you are."
Ana began up with the slow and practiced caution necessitated by her bulky, clumsy body. Still, floorboards creaked and several hung paintings shifted askew, pushed by breasts that were wider than the banister to the wall. Portia set them back into place with her free hand, several steps behind her.
At the top of the stairs, Ana kept going until there was room at the top for her mother, then whispered again. “The children’s rooms are all on this floor, along that hallway. The parents are upstairs on the third.”
“That’ll help to not wake them up when I fuck their son. I haven’t been this horny in a while.”
"I'll isolate the room if it gets too loud. The last room on the left is his. You go first."
Portia approached the hallway cautiously, feeling Ana taking several steps aside to let her pass. Once in the lead, she released her daughter's tail and waited for Ana to feel around until she took the same grip on hers.
Creeping down the hall, they passed several other open and closed doors of bedrooms, bath chambers and closets. At the last door on the left, Portia took the handle and eased it open. As long as no one heard nor saw it move on it’s own, she would stay invisible. That was obvious enough when it happened: being invisible was the only time her bosom wasn't occupying her peripheral vision.
Against the door, she pushed herself until she could peek her head through. Sharp, vulpine eyes, keen in the dark made the revealed room easy enough to assess. It was a bedroom, quite large even for an adult and massive for a teenager. There was a large wardrobe and several tables and chairs about but she was only interested in the room's single occupant. In an opulent bed an older teenage fox laid on his side, sleeping.
She felt Ana’s breast squish against her back, still holding her tail as she drew close enough to whisper. “That must be him: he’s the only adolescent male in the house.”
Portia led the way into the room and her daughter waited a few steps to follow til she stood at the end of her mother's tail, outside the door. They'd practiced these situations where Ana needed both arms to navigate when she was following. When her tail was released, Portia would take a step or two forward before stopping to swish it gently, making her easier to find.
Ana would do what she needed, in this case crush her breasts together with the entirety of both arms, to fit through a common-sized doorway. She would then advance, finding her mother again by running into the swinging tail. Once found, she'd take hold and they'd continue.
It was usually easier to just let Ana lead.
Portia felt her daughter shift and turn once through the doorway, taking wide steps around the door before it slowly closed, seemingly on it's own. She stepped forward and found a grip on her mother's tail again, then continued their advance.
Approaching the bed, they got a better look at the handsome, young man’s face who bore a pattern of fur almost identical to hers. All her children met so far had some variation of her two-tone body and belly, different colored “socks” to her knees and elbows and the "pepper" spots on their face, neck and chests.
Hand over hand, Ana moved up her tail until she stepped alongside her mother until they stood shoulder to shoulder at his bedside.
“Do you think he’s going to want me?” Portia whispered. In response she found her shoulders squeezed then turned until she was staring at a life sized, head-to-toe portrait on a floor-height stand across the room. Only clear in the darkness for their sharp, vulpine vision, it was a painting of a young, female adventuress wearing leather armor that hugged an impossible, familiar figure: herself, though some years younger.
“I think so.”
“Holy shit.”
Portia walked to the painting, the memory of posing for it at least ten years before rushing back to her.
“I sat for this after a rescue mission. A warlock kidnapped a local girl and we took care of it. I was working with a party around that time. Good, stallion lads. That painter was quite a charmer. Jean, I think was his name. A very handsome otter.” She stepped closer and Ana followed, keeping a hand on her. “He didn’t want me to clean up after. Not any of it. He said the blood that was still on my fur made it more raw. You can't see it, thankfully but his cum was oozing down my inner thighs when I posed for this.”
“Did he paint that part too?” Ana guided her mother’s hand to point. “Or is that…”
Portia leaned in to look. “No. That’s not paint. Someone’s been masturbating on this.”
She was silent for another long moment, gripping her own muzzle. “That rescue mission: it was the daughter of… oh Gods. It was the Tuchels. After we returned with his daughter, he invited us all to an amazing dinner the day after and we met the rest of his family: his wife, four daughters and the youngest, their only son. All red foxes except the boy. A pale-furred fox, like us.”
Portia turned to look back to the bed again, clenching her hands together and pacing. Ana felt around to take her tail again.
“I know Waldemar. Gods, I remember this whole family. What are the chances of that? How small is this world?"
"You've been adventuring all over the world for over twenty years and Zarron has been distributing your children by the dozens for nearly as long. It's a big ledger. So actually... not that low."
Portia's huff was audible. "The oldest two would be grown women by now and I was never here in this house. They might have mentioned something about their manor being renovated.” Tense fingers clutched her face. “Unbelievable. They’re really decent people.”
Ana pushed closer, mashing her breasts into her mother’s back. “Does that change anything?”
Portia sighed. “I remember what he looked like. He was adorable and well-mannered, dressed like a fancy, miniature adult. It’s been a long time and I only spent the evening with the Tuchels but they seemed lovely. There was maybe even a little jealousy of how happy they were as a family, when I was so miserable with mine. Should I tell him?” She glanced back to Anastasia out of habit but saw only the room, right through herself and her daughter. For all the times they'd done this now, it never stopped being disconcerting.
“No, I can't. He has a family and he's well taken care of. This is as good as anyone could want for their child all we could do here is mess that up. We need to go.”
“The blood on that painting. Did you get stabbed in the chest?”
Not seeing her daughter also meant she couldn't see when she was distracted by something, which was often. Still, it was nice when she asked about her past adventures.
“I did, yes. It was pretty bad,” she whispered back. “I still have the scar. See?” She groped for her daughter's hand and brought it to her breast, guiding her fingers to a raised ridge of flesh, the width of a dagger. “But my boobs saved my life that day. He was going for the heart.”
Ana traced over the scar, pushing through thick fur to find the rough knot of skin.
In an instant, Portia became visible from the front, the runes directional and the one on her chest smudged by Ana’s finger.
“Mother! If we’re going to go…”
“I can see myself again. Am I…”
“Portia?! Portia Pridemoon!?!”
“Oh shit…”
She turned to see Waldemar Tuchel the Third, sat up in his bed with his eyes ready to jump out of his skull.
“You’re here! In my bedroom!?” His eyes fell to her bare breasts and latched on to them. “And you’re naked! Oh Gods, am I dreaming?! I must be dreaming.”
Portia rushed over to his bedside with her chest jostling wildly, capturing his eyes. When she reached him, she put her finger to his muzzle. “We need to keep it down. But yes, I’m Portia Pridemoon and yes, I’m naked. Can we talk?”
“Uhhh… of course,” he said to her chest. “I’m sure you don’t remember me but…”
“I remember you. We met when you were little.”
“That was a long time ago.”
She turned back to the painting. “Well, it seems you remember me.”
“I do.” His eyes lit up before he shook it off. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Can I sit?”
“You can do anything you want.” Nodding eagerly, he pulled the sheets down to reveal a swelling, red erection spilling out of his white-furred sheath, forming a massive pipe worthy of his lineage.
The vixen stared for a long moment, the arousal flushing back to her loins, a wave of desire crashing into the logic and reason that told her to leave. However she remembered him, he was a strapping and fit young man now.
“That’s not why I’m here. We… we need to talk first.”
“First?!” His eyes grew wider still. “Oh Gods, this is a dream! I can’t believe I’m finally having a Portia sex dream! Sure, let’s talk but make it fast! Then we can do it.”
She flushed and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. What do you know about your biological mother?”
“Can you touch it? While you say whatever you want to say?”
Portia bit her lower lip and her gaze fell to his cock again, thick now and so hard it had curved and was dribbling precum. It rose at an angle, an equilibrium between it’s turgid eagerness and it’s tremendous thickness and weight. A heavy log of lustful meat, suspended by the inferno that was adolescent desire.
He was Jasper’s length with slightly more girth to the middle of it and she fought the impulse to mount him right there. “You might not want that after what we need to discuss.”
Vigorously, he shook his head. “No, that’s impossible. Please touch it. It hurts!”
She sighed and reached out, her grip only getting two-thirds of the way around it, coaxing a quiet purr from him. “Fine. So, your mother…”
“Well, I know she's not my birth mother or my fur would be red like my parents and my sisters. I’m the only boy, and my father needed an heir. But when I asked about it, I saw it hurts my mother’s feelings so I don’t pursue it.”
“It sounds like you have a family that loves you and treats you well.”
“They do. I’m happy here. Maybe I would like to know who my birth mother is, just out of curiosity but it doesn't matter much to me. Nothing would make me love my real mother less.” His eyes flitted to hers but mostly remained on her breasts, only sometimes escaping their gravity.
“What if I told you I was your birth mother? Would you want me to keep jerking you off?” She stopped moving her hand but didn’t let him go.
He blinked and froze, before his eyes fell to his lap. After a beat, he chuckled. “You? Yes. Definitely,” he nodded. “But you would jerk off your own son? Gross.”
She recoiled and pulled her hand away. “You wanted me to!”
His head shook again with violent enthusiasm. “Sorry, I do! Don’t stop.”
Narrowing her eyes, she took a grip on him again and began tenderly stroking. Her mouth dropped open and she caught herself leaning in, wanting to taste him. The smell of it reached her nose, throwing fuel on the flame in her loins.
“This is a weird dream. It feels so real. No one else has ever touched it besides me. There was one girl I thought liked me but she ran away when she saw how big it is. ”
Portia huffed. “It’s not a dream. I’m your birth mother.”
He laughed. “Okay, how? I know all about you. I’ve heard so many stories of your adventures! Sometimes I go to the local inn and ask around for people who’ve met you. You started adventuring as a teenager and have been going nonstop since. No one ever mentions kids or being pregnant.”
“That's true. It’s a long story and a bit convoluted. Magic is involved."
“Ugh,” he threw back his head. “I hate magic. My dad says it’s for cowards, like the Warlock you saved my sister from. He used you and your party as an example of how real heroes don’t need magic.”
Portia’s eyes wandered to the open room, where somewhere an invisible Anastasia was watching and listening.
“It’s more complicated than that. For some people, that’s all they have.”
“Well those people are weak!”
She sighed again. “There was a wizard involved…”
“Ugh, you’re so hot and I’m so horny! It’s hard to listen. Some people say you can't resist huge cocks like mine. Will you put it in your mouth?”
“What? Who says that?”
“Will you put my cock in your mouth?” Waldemar repeated, emphasizing each word. “You’re already jerking me off. So why does it matter?”
Portia chuckled. “I just told you, I’m your mother. And I’m not done yet.”
“Fine.” His eyes had fallen away to her breasts again. “If I was your son, I’d have gotten to suck on your nipples, wouldn’t I?”
“For nursing? Yes. Yes you would.”
“Can I?”
Portia recoiled, flustered. “You’re not bothered by us being related?”
He laughed, more in disbelief than disregard. “It doesn’t seem to bother you.”
With a sigh, she shook her head. “Whatever. Yes. But keep listening.”
He leaned in closer, bringing both hands to hold a single breast as if cradling a lover's head before a kiss. “It’s stiff," he nosed at her nipple, "That means you’re horny, right?”
“Or cold.”
“It’s not cold in here.”
“Well, sometimes a woman has a reaction to a handsome and eager man. Women get aroused too, you know.”
“Want to finish explaining bent over? On your back?”
“Waldemar, be patient please.”
With anything but patience, Waldemar lashed a thick nipple with his tongue before wrapping his mouth around it, then crept back with suction until it smacked free of him. Her grip tightened on his length. “You’re teasing me! I want to fuck you so bad.”
Portia shivered and raised her other hand, tempted to reach for him but resisting.
“So this wizard, he…” she paused. Waldemar wasn't the first time she'd met a child who didn't need rescue. Just the first male old enough for this. Once established that they might not need saving, she'd been careful how much to tell them. Discovering they had a vast, extended family could change the course of their lives. If they were happy, perhaps it was better for them to not know about their siblings or herself. Especially the woman she'd become.
She shouldn’t be here. Waldemar didn't need to know any of this. Looking down to where her feet would be if she could see them, she recalled the mental image of the young and innocent, well-dressed boy, all those years ago.
“Why’d you stop?” He lifted his head to look at her.
“I… I was thinking.”
“Can you think while you rub my cock?”
Blinking away the memory, she focused on the handsome, young man before her now. The soft curves of his youthful muscles beneath his fur. Eager eyes, sincere and longing for her. The massive, vulpine cock eager to plunge her depths.
“Right… sorry.” She resumed stroking his length. Had he gotten even thicker? Aches through her body wanted to feel him with more than her fingers.
“What about a wizard now?” he asked as he dove back into a breast, squeezing it with both hands, nosing at, then lapping and sucking her nipple.
With a gasp, she blurted it out. “He took all of my eggs and bred them by special order, putting them up for sale to people with lots of money. I had no idea. I was never pregnant, never gave birth. But it turns out I have children anyway. Lots of them. And you’re one of them.” By the time she finished, she could feel how far she’d cringed and shrunk.
Frozen, she watched his reaction.
Waldemar lifted his head again, taking his time and staring into her eyes before he cracked a smile.
“This is the craziest dream. My sisters say dreams are spirits that visit you in the night but my mother says they’re your mind making up stories to help you deal with waking life. I hate wizards, I had eggs for breakfast… I don’t know where this biological mother thing is coming from. You’re nothing like my mother! I know she didn’t give birth to me but she’s always been there, so I never cared about whoever gave me away.”
He pondered for a moment as her head dipped, averting her eyes.
“Maybe because I idolize you so much? I dreamed about marrying you after you rescued my sister and joined us for dinner. At that time, I'd never heard of a woman so brave! I was too young to know what those feelings were. My poor dad was worried how obsessed I was with you. I think he thought that I wanted to BE you. when he realized that I just wanted to be with you, he was so relieved that he bought the painting for me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve masturbated to it over the years.”
“I could see.”
He shook his head frenetically. “No, I’m very careful! Those are the accidents. It must be in the hundreds. Most every night, some weeks. Thinking about those thick thighs wrapped about me. How your giant breasts would jiggle as I thrust into you. Cumming all over your face and chest. And yet, this is the first time I've had this dream!”
Portia was still as she watched him again, blinking in some disbelief. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
Boldly, he threw out his arms. “It’s a dream! What have I got to lose? It’s only gotten worse as I learned that I’m a freak. The other guys used to be jealous of the size of my penis but after that girl ran away from me, they all started mocking me. The boys laugh and the girls are afraid of me."
Clutching his bare knees in his palms, he rubbed the sweat from them.
“The travelers who’ve met you say you like only men who are really, really hung while the girls I’ve chased here think I’m disgusting. When I was young, I thought you were perfect and now I think no one else could even handle me. Which would be okay because you’re you! With your beautiful body and your wonderful breasts and now they’re right here in front of me! I can’t concentrate!”
He lunged in for a kiss and she accepted on instinct, opening her mouth and mashing her tongue into his, groaning needfully against his muzzle. He pushed closer, easing her to her back when she took him by the shoulders and braced him.
“It’s not…” she held him at bay, struggling with words. There was still the chance to leave but would he still believe that none of this was really happening? What a terrible dream that would be.
If she walked away now, he’d be worse off than before. What a convenient excuse that was. He didn’t believe her or even seem to care about her story. He was so desperate and eager while the rejections were entirely understandable. The story was sure to be a common, sad situation among her many sons as they grew into men. She could help them all.
If he still believed it was a dream, did it matter what they did? It could at least turn into a pleasant one.
Was that right? Or some twisted justification to break her own rules? Was this even consensual? For sex, yes but was he consenting to doing it with his mother? How else could this end and still feel like a dream?
He looked wounded, held at her arm’s length with her heavy bosom much closer. “This is so confusing. You appear in my bedroom, the perfect woman who loves hung men and you’re obviously turned on. All this nonsense you're talking makes it even more obvious that I’m dreaming. The girls in my usual dreams run away or laugh at me. I’ve never had a real sex dream where I get to have sex. Can’t this just be my teenage fantasy?”
Portia bit her lower lip and puffed her chest with a heavy breath.
Her twisted mind could justify it but it was her ravenous loins that practically forced the word from her mouth:
“Okay.”
Robes and packs were stashed under dry overhangs in the alley before Anastasia drew the Invisibility runes on their naked backs and chests. They’d developed a practice to only use runes of Silence in particularly dangerous situations after finding the inability to whisper to one another more trouble than it was worth. Ana had other means to isolate and deaden sound than the runes, should they need to.
Holding hands, they approached the house of Lord Waldemar Tuchel the second, a minor noble and father to Waldermar the 3rd, a son conceived of his father’s seed and Portia’s egg. He was considered a low risk rescue for being adopted into a family and an heir but he was along the way to Brummel, so they could at least check one more off the list.
They arrived at the front door and Ana stepped up to it. Coordinating while invisible was something they’d grown practiced at, however reluctantly for the magic-averse mother. When only her daughter was hidden, it was much easier: Ana would follow her mother and communicate by gentle swats at her tail or taps on her shoulder. The tail was the easiest, as both women struggled with the spatial awareness of themselves when invisible.
A minor cantrip at the lock of the door unlatched it and the unseen Anastasia had to open it all the way before she could squeeze herself through. Portia followed through the threshold then eased the door closed behind them with her free hand.
The house was lavish with wealth and decor, a bit busy and gauche and with a slight smell of must but that was standard for noble’s houses. Her daughter led her across the foyer to the base of a staircase not much wider than Portia and a tight squeeze for Anastasia.
"When we build our community, can we build it with really wide stairs?" the younger vixen whispered with annoyance in her voice.
"I've only been to a few places in the world where the architects were so thoughtful." Portia let go of her hand and took hold of her tail. "Ready when you are."
Ana began up with the slow and practiced caution necessitated by her bulky, clumsy body. Still, floorboards creaked and several hung paintings shifted askew, pushed by breasts that were wider than the banister to the wall. Portia set them back into place with her free hand, several steps behind her.
At the top of the stairs, Ana kept going until there was room at the top for her mother, then whispered again. “The children’s rooms are all on this floor, along that hallway. The parents are upstairs on the third.”
“That’ll help to not wake them up when I fuck their son. I haven’t been this horny in a while.”
"I'll isolate the room if it gets too loud. The last room on the left is his. You go first."
Portia approached the hallway cautiously, feeling Ana taking several steps aside to let her pass. Once in the lead, she released her daughter's tail and waited for Ana to feel around until she took the same grip on hers.
Creeping down the hall, they passed several other open and closed doors of bedrooms, bath chambers and closets. At the last door on the left, Portia took the handle and eased it open. As long as no one heard nor saw it move on it’s own, she would stay invisible. That was obvious enough when it happened: being invisible was the only time her bosom wasn't occupying her peripheral vision.
Against the door, she pushed herself until she could peek her head through. Sharp, vulpine eyes, keen in the dark made the revealed room easy enough to assess. It was a bedroom, quite large even for an adult and massive for a teenager. There was a large wardrobe and several tables and chairs about but she was only interested in the room's single occupant. In an opulent bed an older teenage fox laid on his side, sleeping.
She felt Ana’s breast squish against her back, still holding her tail as she drew close enough to whisper. “That must be him: he’s the only adolescent male in the house.”
Portia led the way into the room and her daughter waited a few steps to follow til she stood at the end of her mother's tail, outside the door. They'd practiced these situations where Ana needed both arms to navigate when she was following. When her tail was released, Portia would take a step or two forward before stopping to swish it gently, making her easier to find.
Ana would do what she needed, in this case crush her breasts together with the entirety of both arms, to fit through a common-sized doorway. She would then advance, finding her mother again by running into the swinging tail. Once found, she'd take hold and they'd continue.
It was usually easier to just let Ana lead.
Portia felt her daughter shift and turn once through the doorway, taking wide steps around the door before it slowly closed, seemingly on it's own. She stepped forward and found a grip on her mother's tail again, then continued their advance.
Approaching the bed, they got a better look at the handsome, young man’s face who bore a pattern of fur almost identical to hers. All her children met so far had some variation of her two-tone body and belly, different colored “socks” to her knees and elbows and the "pepper" spots on their face, neck and chests.
Hand over hand, Ana moved up her tail until she stepped alongside her mother until they stood shoulder to shoulder at his bedside.
“Do you think he’s going to want me?” Portia whispered. In response she found her shoulders squeezed then turned until she was staring at a life sized, head-to-toe portrait on a floor-height stand across the room. Only clear in the darkness for their sharp, vulpine vision, it was a painting of a young, female adventuress wearing leather armor that hugged an impossible, familiar figure: herself, though some years younger.
“I think so.”
“Holy shit.”
Portia walked to the painting, the memory of posing for it at least ten years before rushing back to her.
“I sat for this after a rescue mission. A warlock kidnapped a local girl and we took care of it. I was working with a party around that time. Good, stallion lads. That painter was quite a charmer. Jean, I think was his name. A very handsome otter.” She stepped closer and Ana followed, keeping a hand on her. “He didn’t want me to clean up after. Not any of it. He said the blood that was still on my fur made it more raw. You can't see it, thankfully but his cum was oozing down my inner thighs when I posed for this.”
“Did he paint that part too?” Ana guided her mother’s hand to point. “Or is that…”
Portia leaned in to look. “No. That’s not paint. Someone’s been masturbating on this.”
She was silent for another long moment, gripping her own muzzle. “That rescue mission: it was the daughter of… oh Gods. It was the Tuchels. After we returned with his daughter, he invited us all to an amazing dinner the day after and we met the rest of his family: his wife, four daughters and the youngest, their only son. All red foxes except the boy. A pale-furred fox, like us.”
Portia turned to look back to the bed again, clenching her hands together and pacing. Ana felt around to take her tail again.
“I know Waldemar. Gods, I remember this whole family. What are the chances of that? How small is this world?"
"You've been adventuring all over the world for over twenty years and Zarron has been distributing your children by the dozens for nearly as long. It's a big ledger. So actually... not that low."
Portia's huff was audible. "The oldest two would be grown women by now and I was never here in this house. They might have mentioned something about their manor being renovated.” Tense fingers clutched her face. “Unbelievable. They’re really decent people.”
Ana pushed closer, mashing her breasts into her mother’s back. “Does that change anything?”
Portia sighed. “I remember what he looked like. He was adorable and well-mannered, dressed like a fancy, miniature adult. It’s been a long time and I only spent the evening with the Tuchels but they seemed lovely. There was maybe even a little jealousy of how happy they were as a family, when I was so miserable with mine. Should I tell him?” She glanced back to Anastasia out of habit but saw only the room, right through herself and her daughter. For all the times they'd done this now, it never stopped being disconcerting.
“No, I can't. He has a family and he's well taken care of. This is as good as anyone could want for their child all we could do here is mess that up. We need to go.”
“The blood on that painting. Did you get stabbed in the chest?”
Not seeing her daughter also meant she couldn't see when she was distracted by something, which was often. Still, it was nice when she asked about her past adventures.
“I did, yes. It was pretty bad,” she whispered back. “I still have the scar. See?” She groped for her daughter's hand and brought it to her breast, guiding her fingers to a raised ridge of flesh, the width of a dagger. “But my boobs saved my life that day. He was going for the heart.”
Ana traced over the scar, pushing through thick fur to find the rough knot of skin.
In an instant, Portia became visible from the front, the runes directional and the one on her chest smudged by Ana’s finger.
“Mother! If we’re going to go…”
“I can see myself again. Am I…”
“Portia?! Portia Pridemoon!?!”
“Oh shit…”
She turned to see Waldemar Tuchel the Third, sat up in his bed with his eyes ready to jump out of his skull.
“You’re here! In my bedroom!?” His eyes fell to her bare breasts and latched on to them. “And you’re naked! Oh Gods, am I dreaming?! I must be dreaming.”
Portia rushed over to his bedside with her chest jostling wildly, capturing his eyes. When she reached him, she put her finger to his muzzle. “We need to keep it down. But yes, I’m Portia Pridemoon and yes, I’m naked. Can we talk?”
“Uhhh… of course,” he said to her chest. “I’m sure you don’t remember me but…”
“I remember you. We met when you were little.”
“That was a long time ago.”
She turned back to the painting. “Well, it seems you remember me.”
“I do.” His eyes lit up before he shook it off. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Can I sit?”
“You can do anything you want.” Nodding eagerly, he pulled the sheets down to reveal a swelling, red erection spilling out of his white-furred sheath, forming a massive pipe worthy of his lineage.
The vixen stared for a long moment, the arousal flushing back to her loins, a wave of desire crashing into the logic and reason that told her to leave. However she remembered him, he was a strapping and fit young man now.
“That’s not why I’m here. We… we need to talk first.”
“First?!” His eyes grew wider still. “Oh Gods, this is a dream! I can’t believe I’m finally having a Portia sex dream! Sure, let’s talk but make it fast! Then we can do it.”
She flushed and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. What do you know about your biological mother?”
“Can you touch it? While you say whatever you want to say?”
Portia bit her lower lip and her gaze fell to his cock again, thick now and so hard it had curved and was dribbling precum. It rose at an angle, an equilibrium between it’s turgid eagerness and it’s tremendous thickness and weight. A heavy log of lustful meat, suspended by the inferno that was adolescent desire.
He was Jasper’s length with slightly more girth to the middle of it and she fought the impulse to mount him right there. “You might not want that after what we need to discuss.”
Vigorously, he shook his head. “No, that’s impossible. Please touch it. It hurts!”
She sighed and reached out, her grip only getting two-thirds of the way around it, coaxing a quiet purr from him. “Fine. So, your mother…”
“Well, I know she's not my birth mother or my fur would be red like my parents and my sisters. I’m the only boy, and my father needed an heir. But when I asked about it, I saw it hurts my mother’s feelings so I don’t pursue it.”
“It sounds like you have a family that loves you and treats you well.”
“They do. I’m happy here. Maybe I would like to know who my birth mother is, just out of curiosity but it doesn't matter much to me. Nothing would make me love my real mother less.” His eyes flitted to hers but mostly remained on her breasts, only sometimes escaping their gravity.
“What if I told you I was your birth mother? Would you want me to keep jerking you off?” She stopped moving her hand but didn’t let him go.
He blinked and froze, before his eyes fell to his lap. After a beat, he chuckled. “You? Yes. Definitely,” he nodded. “But you would jerk off your own son? Gross.”
She recoiled and pulled her hand away. “You wanted me to!”
His head shook again with violent enthusiasm. “Sorry, I do! Don’t stop.”
Narrowing her eyes, she took a grip on him again and began tenderly stroking. Her mouth dropped open and she caught herself leaning in, wanting to taste him. The smell of it reached her nose, throwing fuel on the flame in her loins.
“This is a weird dream. It feels so real. No one else has ever touched it besides me. There was one girl I thought liked me but she ran away when she saw how big it is. ”
Portia huffed. “It’s not a dream. I’m your birth mother.”
He laughed. “Okay, how? I know all about you. I’ve heard so many stories of your adventures! Sometimes I go to the local inn and ask around for people who’ve met you. You started adventuring as a teenager and have been going nonstop since. No one ever mentions kids or being pregnant.”
“That's true. It’s a long story and a bit convoluted. Magic is involved."
“Ugh,” he threw back his head. “I hate magic. My dad says it’s for cowards, like the Warlock you saved my sister from. He used you and your party as an example of how real heroes don’t need magic.”
Portia’s eyes wandered to the open room, where somewhere an invisible Anastasia was watching and listening.
“It’s more complicated than that. For some people, that’s all they have.”
“Well those people are weak!”
She sighed again. “There was a wizard involved…”
“Ugh, you’re so hot and I’m so horny! It’s hard to listen. Some people say you can't resist huge cocks like mine. Will you put it in your mouth?”
“What? Who says that?”
“Will you put my cock in your mouth?” Waldemar repeated, emphasizing each word. “You’re already jerking me off. So why does it matter?”
Portia chuckled. “I just told you, I’m your mother. And I’m not done yet.”
“Fine.” His eyes had fallen away to her breasts again. “If I was your son, I’d have gotten to suck on your nipples, wouldn’t I?”
“For nursing? Yes. Yes you would.”
“Can I?”
Portia recoiled, flustered. “You’re not bothered by us being related?”
He laughed, more in disbelief than disregard. “It doesn’t seem to bother you.”
With a sigh, she shook her head. “Whatever. Yes. But keep listening.”
He leaned in closer, bringing both hands to hold a single breast as if cradling a lover's head before a kiss. “It’s stiff," he nosed at her nipple, "That means you’re horny, right?”
“Or cold.”
“It’s not cold in here.”
“Well, sometimes a woman has a reaction to a handsome and eager man. Women get aroused too, you know.”
“Want to finish explaining bent over? On your back?”
“Waldemar, be patient please.”
With anything but patience, Waldemar lashed a thick nipple with his tongue before wrapping his mouth around it, then crept back with suction until it smacked free of him. Her grip tightened on his length. “You’re teasing me! I want to fuck you so bad.”
Portia shivered and raised her other hand, tempted to reach for him but resisting.
“So this wizard, he…” she paused. Waldemar wasn't the first time she'd met a child who didn't need rescue. Just the first male old enough for this. Once established that they might not need saving, she'd been careful how much to tell them. Discovering they had a vast, extended family could change the course of their lives. If they were happy, perhaps it was better for them to not know about their siblings or herself. Especially the woman she'd become.
She shouldn’t be here. Waldemar didn't need to know any of this. Looking down to where her feet would be if she could see them, she recalled the mental image of the young and innocent, well-dressed boy, all those years ago.
“Why’d you stop?” He lifted his head to look at her.
“I… I was thinking.”
“Can you think while you rub my cock?”
Blinking away the memory, she focused on the handsome, young man before her now. The soft curves of his youthful muscles beneath his fur. Eager eyes, sincere and longing for her. The massive, vulpine cock eager to plunge her depths.
“Right… sorry.” She resumed stroking his length. Had he gotten even thicker? Aches through her body wanted to feel him with more than her fingers.
“What about a wizard now?” he asked as he dove back into a breast, squeezing it with both hands, nosing at, then lapping and sucking her nipple.
With a gasp, she blurted it out. “He took all of my eggs and bred them by special order, putting them up for sale to people with lots of money. I had no idea. I was never pregnant, never gave birth. But it turns out I have children anyway. Lots of them. And you’re one of them.” By the time she finished, she could feel how far she’d cringed and shrunk.
Frozen, she watched his reaction.
Waldemar lifted his head again, taking his time and staring into her eyes before he cracked a smile.
“This is the craziest dream. My sisters say dreams are spirits that visit you in the night but my mother says they’re your mind making up stories to help you deal with waking life. I hate wizards, I had eggs for breakfast… I don’t know where this biological mother thing is coming from. You’re nothing like my mother! I know she didn’t give birth to me but she’s always been there, so I never cared about whoever gave me away.”
He pondered for a moment as her head dipped, averting her eyes.
“Maybe because I idolize you so much? I dreamed about marrying you after you rescued my sister and joined us for dinner. At that time, I'd never heard of a woman so brave! I was too young to know what those feelings were. My poor dad was worried how obsessed I was with you. I think he thought that I wanted to BE you. when he realized that I just wanted to be with you, he was so relieved that he bought the painting for me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve masturbated to it over the years.”
“I could see.”
He shook his head frenetically. “No, I’m very careful! Those are the accidents. It must be in the hundreds. Most every night, some weeks. Thinking about those thick thighs wrapped about me. How your giant breasts would jiggle as I thrust into you. Cumming all over your face and chest. And yet, this is the first time I've had this dream!”
Portia was still as she watched him again, blinking in some disbelief. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
Boldly, he threw out his arms. “It’s a dream! What have I got to lose? It’s only gotten worse as I learned that I’m a freak. The other guys used to be jealous of the size of my penis but after that girl ran away from me, they all started mocking me. The boys laugh and the girls are afraid of me."
Clutching his bare knees in his palms, he rubbed the sweat from them.
“The travelers who’ve met you say you like only men who are really, really hung while the girls I’ve chased here think I’m disgusting. When I was young, I thought you were perfect and now I think no one else could even handle me. Which would be okay because you’re you! With your beautiful body and your wonderful breasts and now they’re right here in front of me! I can’t concentrate!”
He lunged in for a kiss and she accepted on instinct, opening her mouth and mashing her tongue into his, groaning needfully against his muzzle. He pushed closer, easing her to her back when she took him by the shoulders and braced him.
“It’s not…” she held him at bay, struggling with words. There was still the chance to leave but would he still believe that none of this was really happening? What a terrible dream that would be.
If she walked away now, he’d be worse off than before. What a convenient excuse that was. He didn’t believe her or even seem to care about her story. He was so desperate and eager while the rejections were entirely understandable. The story was sure to be a common, sad situation among her many sons as they grew into men. She could help them all.
If he still believed it was a dream, did it matter what they did? It could at least turn into a pleasant one.
Was that right? Or some twisted justification to break her own rules? Was this even consensual? For sex, yes but was he consenting to doing it with his mother? How else could this end and still feel like a dream?
He looked wounded, held at her arm’s length with her heavy bosom much closer. “This is so confusing. You appear in my bedroom, the perfect woman who loves hung men and you’re obviously turned on. All this nonsense you're talking makes it even more obvious that I’m dreaming. The girls in my usual dreams run away or laugh at me. I’ve never had a real sex dream where I get to have sex. Can’t this just be my teenage fantasy?”
Portia bit her lower lip and puffed her chest with a heavy breath.
Her twisted mind could justify it but it was her ravenous loins that practically forced the word from her mouth:
“Okay.”
Waldemar's face lit up before he slid one leg up on the bed to face her, then leaned back and gestured down to his erection.
“What…”
“Now will you suck my dick?”
She sighed and glanced back to the room where somewhere, Anastasia was watching them.
“You don’t want to…”
“I need to see what my cock looks like in Portia Pridemoon’s muzzle. Please!”
“Fine.” She gathered up her hair and pulled it over her shoulder then lunged in, parting her mouth. Nostrils flared as she drank him in. All her sons all smelled similar to one another and different to any of the many men she’d been with over her years. The surge of familial desire rushed through her body, lighting nerves on fire: the intimate scent of family. The musk of adoration and taboo.
She knew better than to try to resist it. At least she could preserve his own perception of his innocence. It was his dream now.
Her tongue met the underside of his shaft first but she didn’t make him wait long before plunging her muzzle down on it, her finger tracing over the orange-sized testicles pulled tight in his scrotum.
She could taste the difference too, blindfolded or in the dark. The boys of her family had a flavor, familiar and nostalgic for time lost. Unlike the divine but sensibly forbidden sensation of familial sex, fellatio was dubiously incest at all and debatably closer to a kiss on the lips or a massage. A caring mother could rationalize the oral pleasure of her son and she sometimes wondered if it was much more common than she believed it to be.
“Oh Gods… that’s it. This is the dream I wanted,” he reached out for her gathered up hair and rolled his fist to tighten it against her head. “Suck it, Portia,” he said with a firm tug, the tip of his cock bumping the back of her throat, threatening to gag her.
She lifted a finger for him to wait before she slid off the bed and onto her knees, then straightened up enough to pull her breasts into his lap, sandwiching his erection.
“I didn’t think about that!”
She winked and resumed, most of his length now swallowed in her cleavage. With one hand, he pulled her down, again and again, the other reaching out for a breast that ballooned sharply with the rhythm then settling in jiggling aftershocks. Fingertips ran through her fur, tracing flesh before finding her nipple. Pinching, he gave her a gentle tug then a firmer one.
Portia's mouth and tongue smacked on her son's shaft, mixing his natural slickness with her saliva while her nose drank deeply of his intoxicating scent that made her blood race in anticipation and flooded her sex with desire.
How he could still believe this was a dream was beyond her but if it was, it would be safe in his mind. At least she could try to make him cum in her mouth and not let the boy fuck his mother without agreeing to it.
“Unghhhhh, that feels so good! But I don’t want to waste it like this.” He pulled her off his length and leaned in for a hungry kiss. “Lay down. On your back.”
So much for that idea.
He slid off the bed to stand then reached out to help her scoot up and bring her rump to the edge and her legs apart. Stepping in, he dropped his cock and balls over her groin and along her stomach, his tip reaching near the bottoms of her gravity-flattened breasts. “The guys in school said you’re the only fox who could take a dick this size.”
Portia sat up on her elbows. “The guys in school too?! I thought you were just asking travelers.”
“Those horses you were with last time you were here!” He nodded. “Everyone said you were fucking at least one of them but maybe all of them! Were you?”
The guilty wince of her face lit his up. “All of them?”
Portia gave a singular nod.
“At once?!”
This time she only winced.
“You took them up the ass too, didn’t you? You love giant dicks, don't you?”
She'd been through this countless times. There was no shame in who she was. At least not until she started fucking her sons.
“I do.”
“That’s so hot! If you can take a horse, I'll be no problem for you! You’re wet just thinking about it,” he said working his fingers down beneath his sack to brazenly push into her wetness with ease.
Arching her back, she gasped.
“You want it, don’t you? You want my monster cock inside you!” Falling forward, he came to lay on her, sharing breath, muzzle to muzzle. “Tell me you want me to stuff your pussy, Portia Pridemoon.”
She rolled her eyes back and huffed. “Shut up and do it already.”
A hand roughly took her breast, as best as it could for her superior size. Leaning in close he put his nose to her ear. “I’m going to. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”
Waldemar's face lit up before he slid one leg up on the bed to face her, then leaned back and gestured down to his erection.
“What…”
“Now will you suck my dick?”
She sighed and glanced back to the room where somewhere, Anastasia was watching them.
“You don’t want to…”
“I need to see what my cock looks like in Portia Pridemoon’s muzzle. Please!”
“Fine.” She gathered up her hair and pulled it over her shoulder then lunged in, parting her mouth. Nostrils flared as she drank him in. All her sons all smelled similar to one another and different to any of the many men she’d been with over her years. The surge of familial desire rushed through her body, lighting nerves on fire: the intimate scent of family. The musk of adoration and taboo.
She knew better than to try to resist it. At least she could preserve his own perception of his innocence. It was his dream now.
Her tongue met the underside of his shaft first but she didn’t make him wait long before plunging her muzzle down on it, her finger tracing over the orange-sized testicles pulled tight in his scrotum.
She could taste the difference too, blindfolded or in the dark. The boys of her family had a flavor, familiar and nostalgic for time lost. Unlike the divine but sensibly forbidden sensation of familial sex, fellatio was dubiously incest at all and debatably closer to a kiss on the lips or a massage. A caring mother could rationalize the oral pleasure of her son and she sometimes wondered if it was much more common than she believed it to be.
“Oh Gods… that’s it. This is the dream I wanted,” he reached out for her gathered up hair and rolled his fist to tighten it against her head. “Suck it, Portia,” he said with a firm tug, the tip of his cock bumping the back of her throat, threatening to gag her.
She lifted a finger for him to wait before she slid off the bed and onto her knees, then straightened up enough to pull her breasts into his lap, sandwiching his erection.
“I didn’t think about that!”
She winked and resumed, most of his length now swallowed in her cleavage. With one hand, he pulled her down, again and again, the other reaching out for a breast that ballooned sharply with the rhythm then settling in jiggling aftershocks. Fingertips ran through her fur, tracing flesh before finding her nipple. Pinching, he gave her a gentle tug then a firmer one.
Portia's mouth and tongue smacked on her son's shaft, mixing his natural slickness with her saliva while her nose drank deeply of his intoxicating scent that made her blood race in anticipation and flooded her sex with desire.
How he could still believe this was a dream was beyond her but if it was, it would be safe in his mind. At least she could try to make him cum in her mouth and not let the boy fuck his mother without agreeing to it.
“Unghhhhh, that feels so good! But I don’t want to waste it like this.” He pulled her off his length and leaned in for a hungry kiss. “Lay down. On your back.”
So much for that idea.
He slid off the bed to stand then reached out to help her scoot up and bring her rump to the edge and her legs apart. Stepping in, he dropped his cock and balls over her groin and along her stomach, his tip reaching near the bottoms of her gravity-flattened breasts. “The guys in school said you’re the only fox who could take a dick this size.”
Portia sat up on her elbows. “The guys in school too?! I thought you were just asking travelers.”
“Those horses you were with last time you were here!” He nodded. “Everyone said you were fucking at least one of them but maybe all of them! Were you?”
The guilty wince of her face lit his up. “All of them?”
Portia gave a singular nod.
“At once?!”
This time she only winced.
“You took them up the ass too, didn’t you? You love giant dicks, don't you?”
She'd been through this countless times. There was no shame in who she was. At least not until she started fucking her sons.
“I do.”
“That’s so hot! If you can take a horse, I'll be no problem for you! You’re wet just thinking about it,” he said working his fingers down beneath his sack to brazenly push into her wetness with ease.
Arching her back, she gasped.
“You want it, don’t you? You want my monster cock inside you!” Falling forward, he came to lay on her, sharing breath, muzzle to muzzle. “Tell me you want me to stuff your pussy, Portia Pridemoon.”
She rolled her eyes back and huffed. “Shut up and do it already.”
A hand roughly took her breast, as best as it could for her superior size. Leaning in close he put his nose to her ear. “I’m going to. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”
Waldemar Tuchel, the 3rd pushed off the bed with both hands to stand again. He shimmied back enough to aim a cock that would be massive by any canine or vulpine standards outside their bloodline, against the folds from which he’d long ago been extracted.
Would he still be doing this if he knew he was awake and that she was his birth mother? If it was going to happen anyway and it clearly was, it was better that he didn’t. In his mind, he needed to believe this never happened.
Guilt flowed like poison through her veins but her blood was rushing too fast. Her body ached with need and rational thought wasn’t in control anymore. The desperate need to fuck her child was.
“Go slow. You’re fucking huge.”
With a short nod, he pushed in with a slow but urgent thrust, conforming and stretching her insides around her, the extremes of her arousal making her ready for his enthusiasm. He didn’t stop until his every inch hilted against her, poking a small bulge above her navel and a deep gasp from her lungs.
Now it was incest.
The surge of pure, forbidden bliss sent a jolt through her body, arching her spine while her hands fell to her lower belly and her son’s hard cock raising it from behind. Her eyes snapped up to his face.
Waldemar Tuchel the 3rd was now the ninth Pridemoon son to penetrate the sex that had spawned him and only the second to not know what he was doing at the time. If it bothered him after the fact, he’d be the first. The revelation hadn’t put off Joseph from trying again repeatedly in their early travels.
The others flashed through her mind: Joseph, Jasper, Osvaldo, Matteo, Marco, Dante, Anton, Laszlo and now, Waldemar. Handsome faces all familiar but different, whether fox, wolf-mix or half-rabbit but their eyes were so similar, especially in how they lolled and leered at her body the moment they penetrated her for the first time. Pure bliss and adoration. If she'd ever been loved before, it looked like this.
Her body's memory recalled the sometimes subtle, sometimes distinct differences of how their cocks felt inside her: their shape, length, girth or curvature. How they twitched and throbbed. The way they fucked, from the confident, experienced bravado of the gladiator triplets to the shy desperation of obvious virginity captured from Joseph, Jasper and now, Waldemar.
She’d had sex with more of her children than most mothers had children.
Most women wouldn’t have sex with as many men as she’d had with her sons.
In the flood of shame and debased achievement, she was dangerously close to climax with him just holding himself trembling inside her. Urgent hands reached out and braced on his chest, her eyes locked on his with needful hunger. The facts of her depravity would trigger the burning guilt and the that guilt almost seemed to call the waves of bliss to wash it away. She didn’t just feel full joined with her sons: she felt whole.
The desire was beyond her control. Nothing felt better than this shameful and forbidden act. She could never stop. With all rational thought and conscience pushed to the back of her mind, she could admit she wanted to fuck every last one of them, even if there were thousands. In these moments, she hoped there were thousands.
“By the Gods! It all fits!” he marveled and she nodded, her muscles tense. “You feel so good!”
If he’d only start thrusting, it would push her over the edge. Her fingers curled into the fur of his chest and took a grip on him.
“You promised to fuck the shit out of me! Fucking do it!” she barked.
The handsome, teenage fox obliged and started to buck his hips. The first few thrusts were conservative, testing then a hard slam into her followed by his eyes falling to the wave he sent through her breasts.
The thought floated up yet again: he didn’t know he was fucking his mother. She was a monster. It didn’t make her want it any less and it only stoked the fire of her impending climax.
“Harder!” She pleaded and he obliged with a violent thrust, sending the bed creaking. Then another. Closer. Another. Closer still. His teeth gritted and he growled before he threw his entire weight into her, sliding them both to the center of the mattress.
Portia's back arched to it's extreme and she rolled back her head to find it halfway off the mattress. With her arms out to the sides, she dug her claws into the blanket, bracing herself for the quivering onslaught of bliss that washed over her. The divine ecstasy of a perfect orgasm that in the moment, justified her every, despicable sin.
Trying to speak, she wanted to call for more, harder, deeper depraved incest but only unintelligible groans and cries could escape her mouth. She was an animal. Feral. Amoral. Single-minded. An entity of pure lust and pleasure.
Waldemar did not need to be told, the teenager’s shock at her tolerance giving way to eager delight.
On the bed now and on top of her, he slammed his hips down hard and deep with the eager vigor of youth. The withdrawal between each thrust was slower to tease and emphasize his every, thick inch her body was devouring but that soon gave way to a more desperate pace. As thrusts accumulated into a flurry, he missed occasionally, sliding free along her belly but he reached down to realign himself. Was he trying to jam it in her ass? In that moment, she didn't care if he did.
The orgasm lingered like an old friend, reminding her she shouldn’t spend so much time away. It's intensity insisted how much better the perverse pleasure of incestuous love was than the guilt-free but pedestrian climaxes of her past life with her common lovers, that she'd once been satisfied with. Never settle for anything less, it reminded her. It had only been five days since she’d sent Laszlo and Anton home!
The vixen squealed and squirmed as the violent thrusting of a lover half her age inched her toward the edge of the bed until her head hung over it. She found enough agency over her body to throw her arms around his shoulders and cross her ankles behind his back.
Waldemar was getting off balance too, with more of their weight getting away from the middle. He pulled back and crawled a step on all fours, with her hanging from him like a feral, marsupial child. With a wicked grin, he didn’t resume. “Hold on tight.”
He planted one foot, then the other in a squat. One arm wrapped around her back and the other took her rump, rubbing a finger over her asshole before he lifted. With a teeth-clenched growl, he picked her up off the mattress, his legs quivering and buckling.
“What are you doing?!” she managed to find enough of her frontal lobe to speak again. “I’m too heavy!”
“Only because your tits and ass are so fucking huge!” he strained and turned, checking over her shoulder. “Get ready!”
With a last heft of a lift, he jumped for them both then fell on top of her, crashing them into the bed and him hard inside her like a charging bull to the groin.
This time her moan sounded like a mortal wound and there was a sharp pain in her pelvis and another, deep in her guts but another orgasm rushed in to make her ignore it all for now. A wild-eyed Waldemar rutted maniacally, not stopping to check on her. “Holy shit, can anything hurt you?!”
Portia was mindless again, wanting nothing but to fuck her sons forever. She couldn’t speak or even bother to shake her head but he didn’t stop anyway.
Finally he broke, huffing for air but his eyes remained crazed with lust. He grabbed her ankle, easing it higher and back, testing her flexibility until her knee was near her face and her thigh pushing her breast inward. Taking the other foot, he lifted it to her other side before thrusting again, lazy and easy, a gentle ride on the rolling sea.
The wave of her second orgasm crashed away and left her soaking, panting and lucid.
The guilt bobbed back up again, never gone for long: would he be doing this if he knew the truth? Would he be so rough if he believed he was awake and she was real?
She’d made her choice and couldn’t change that now. All that remained was to wallow in how delightful he felt inside her as his length jostled her empty stomach through inches of displaced organs that would be sore for days. The pain would make sure she didn't forget what she'd done.
The vixen watched him rise to his knees over breasts that were bigger and more restrained now, ballooned up and out over her thighs, barely losing his rhythm. Hunched over her, the thrusts got harder first, then faster while his eyes locked on her quaking, overflowing bosom.
Still holding her ankles, he pulled them upright and together, ankle to ankle doubled over her head before jumping on her again, grinding down hard then slammed down again, resuming his violent bucking against her.
Waldemar tugged her legs up to his chest and watched from around them before he pulled them apart to peek between.
“So am I as good as a horse?”
“You’re better.”
“I’m going to finish.”
“I’m shocked you haven’t already.”
Her son held himself with his enormous cock hilted within his mother as he guided her legs down towards the bed, her knees bent and her legs spread until her feet were on the pillow, framing her head while the thickness of her thighs ballooned her breasts up and out. With her spine arched like a drawn bow, her underside was completely skyward and her body folded in half.
“Wow…” he trembled as her hips squirmed, shifting him inside her. “You’re amazing.”
With his weight on top of her now and his cock angled straight down, he lifted himself then squatted, hard, practically falling on her.
Portia squealed and so did the bed frame before the softness of her body tremored in aftershock. He ran his hands over her hamstrings, fur between his fingers. Young and desperate hips lifted and dropped into her again, battering her already sore insides. He was mature enough to savor it.
The vixen was already been spoiled enough to cum twice and for this part, she would remember how fucked up this all was. Technically, the act was no more depraved whether or not he came inside the now barren womb that spawned him but it always felt like an extra level of blasphemy.
“I’m so close!” he said then pulled out abruptly, slinging a cocktail of their viscous lust over her breast and cheek. Her eyes locked to his erection as it wobbled and her jaw dropped in anticipation, her tongue rolled out like a red carpet. This was always good too.
“Almost the perfect dream,” he panted and looked down. “Just one more thing…” His impatient hand took a grip around his length and aimed it down again, brushing her asshole with his pointed tip before his hips dipped again. The weight behind it pushed her open with ease and the well-slickened shaft glided through the resistance of her unprepared pucker.
Portia tensed up in surprise, reeling her tongue in and snapping her teeth shut and her whole body clenched against every advice of anal sex. He’d caught her off guard and he yelped out as her clutching muscle gripped him.
“Fuck!” he squealed as he tried to pull out but only escaped a few inches then her hips rose with his, her tightness not as willing to let him go as enter. Hands snatched away to push down on her ass while he stood.
Springing free in perfect timing, he slung a thick line of ejaculate up her body from her left breast to her shoulder He recovered and pounced to sit on the backs of her thighs and push his cock between her cleavage, all before the following gush could blast her in the face.
“Suck it, Portia! Suck my giant dick!” he said, reaching down to gather her hair up in a ponytail, too oblivious to read the look of revulsion that took over her face.
“But…”
Waldemar pulled her mouth to it and filled her nose with his scent, now mixed with two of her own. She tipped back her muzzle to protect her nostrils and his next gush was point blank at her mouth.
This was supposed to be a dream, wasn’t it? And her, his dream girl? Would his dream girl deny him? Should a mother deny her son? Maybe she deserved this for being so depraved.
Portia had to explain to Jasper why this wasn’t something she did but no one else had tried. Would he be doing such a thing, if he thought this was real?
Closing her eyes, she hadn’t opened her mouth more than halfway when he pushed inside her muzzle to the back of her throat with two fists left of his length! Her eyes spread wide again to find his face hovering over her, panting in pure wonder. It was the way she wished her children would look up to her, even without having to resort to such depravities.
With a strong shiver, he throbbed and a surge of cum went straight into her throat, which she skillfully swallowed, though the volume of it remaining threatened to choke her. It was something she'd managed many times and the second swallow cleared it all. Her ponytail was released and he pulled out, stroking it still, aiming it at her face. With a wince, she closed her eyes just as he painted right between them, her forehead and cheeks.
Past it’s peak, his adolescent body buckled and the next gush was smaller. She felt his now delicate hand run over the side of her face, the tender combing of fur by knuckles.
With a gasp, she cracked her eyes open before a long, slow exhale. He was squatted on shaking legs, milking his cock of the last remnants of his orgasm over her breasts, before he collapsed to the bed at her side.
With a deep breath, she lowered her feet back down then stretched herself out. She closed her eyes again and relaxed in a bliss that made the shame of it all worthwhile.
Waldemar Tuchel the 3rd pushed off the bed with both hands to stand again. He shimmied back enough to aim a cock that would be massive by any canine or vulpine standards outside their bloodline, against the folds from which he’d long ago been extracted.
Would he still be doing this if he knew he was awake and that she was his birth mother? If it was going to happen anyway and it clearly was, it was better that he didn’t. In his mind, he needed to believe this never happened.
Guilt flowed like poison through her veins but her blood was rushing too fast. Her body ached with need and rational thought wasn’t in control anymore. The desperate need to fuck her child was.
“Go slow. You’re fucking huge.”
With a short nod, he pushed in with a slow but urgent thrust, conforming and stretching her insides around her, the extremes of her arousal making her ready for his enthusiasm. He didn’t stop until his every inch hilted against her, poking a small bulge above her navel and a deep gasp from her lungs.
Now it was incest.
The surge of pure, forbidden bliss sent a jolt through her body, arching her spine while her hands fell to her lower belly and her son’s hard cock raising it from behind. Her eyes snapped up to his face.
Waldemar Tuchel the 3rd was now the ninth Pridemoon son to penetrate the sex that had spawned him and only the second to not know what he was doing at the time. If it bothered him after the fact, he’d be the first. The revelation hadn’t put off Joseph from trying again repeatedly in their early travels.
The others flashed through her mind: Joseph, Jasper, Osvaldo, Matteo, Marco, Dante, Anton, Laszlo and now, Waldemar. Handsome faces all familiar but different, whether fox, wolf-mix or half-rabbit but their eyes were so similar, especially in how they lolled and leered at her body the moment they penetrated her for the first time. Pure bliss and adoration. If she'd ever been loved before, it looked like this.
Her body's memory recalled the sometimes subtle, sometimes distinct differences of how their cocks felt inside her: their shape, length, girth or curvature. How they twitched and throbbed. The way they fucked, from the confident, experienced bravado of the gladiator triplets to the shy desperation of obvious virginity captured from Joseph, Jasper and now, Waldemar.
She’d had sex with more of her children than most mothers had children.
Most women wouldn’t have sex with as many men as she’d had with her sons.
In the flood of shame and debased achievement, she was dangerously close to climax with him just holding himself trembling inside her. Urgent hands reached out and braced on his chest, her eyes locked on his with needful hunger. The facts of her depravity would trigger the burning guilt and the that guilt almost seemed to call the waves of bliss to wash it away. She didn’t just feel full joined with her sons: she felt whole.
The desire was beyond her control. Nothing felt better than this shameful and forbidden act. She could never stop. With all rational thought and conscience pushed to the back of her mind, she could admit she wanted to fuck every last one of them, even if there were thousands. In these moments, she hoped there were thousands.
“By the Gods! It all fits!” he marveled and she nodded, her muscles tense. “You feel so good!”
If he’d only start thrusting, it would push her over the edge. Her fingers curled into the fur of his chest and took a grip on him.
“You promised to fuck the shit out of me! Fucking do it!” she barked.
The handsome, teenage fox obliged and started to buck his hips. The first few thrusts were conservative, testing then a hard slam into her followed by his eyes falling to the wave he sent through her breasts.
The thought floated up yet again: he didn’t know he was fucking his mother. She was a monster. It didn’t make her want it any less and it only stoked the fire of her impending climax.
“Harder!” She pleaded and he obliged with a violent thrust, sending the bed creaking. Then another. Closer. Another. Closer still. His teeth gritted and he growled before he threw his entire weight into her, sliding them both to the center of the mattress.
Portia's back arched to it's extreme and she rolled back her head to find it halfway off the mattress. With her arms out to the sides, she dug her claws into the blanket, bracing herself for the quivering onslaught of bliss that washed over her. The divine ecstasy of a perfect orgasm that in the moment, justified her every, despicable sin.
Trying to speak, she wanted to call for more, harder, deeper depraved incest but only unintelligible groans and cries could escape her mouth. She was an animal. Feral. Amoral. Single-minded. An entity of pure lust and pleasure.
Waldemar did not need to be told, the teenager’s shock at her tolerance giving way to eager delight.
On the bed now and on top of her, he slammed his hips down hard and deep with the eager vigor of youth. The withdrawal between each thrust was slower to tease and emphasize his every, thick inch her body was devouring but that soon gave way to a more desperate pace. As thrusts accumulated into a flurry, he missed occasionally, sliding free along her belly but he reached down to realign himself. Was he trying to jam it in her ass? In that moment, she didn't care if he did.
The orgasm lingered like an old friend, reminding her she shouldn’t spend so much time away. It's intensity insisted how much better the perverse pleasure of incestuous love was than the guilt-free but pedestrian climaxes of her past life with her common lovers, that she'd once been satisfied with. Never settle for anything less, it reminded her. It had only been five days since she’d sent Laszlo and Anton home!
The vixen squealed and squirmed as the violent thrusting of a lover half her age inched her toward the edge of the bed until her head hung over it. She found enough agency over her body to throw her arms around his shoulders and cross her ankles behind his back.
Waldemar was getting off balance too, with more of their weight getting away from the middle. He pulled back and crawled a step on all fours, with her hanging from him like a feral, marsupial child. With a wicked grin, he didn’t resume. “Hold on tight.”
He planted one foot, then the other in a squat. One arm wrapped around her back and the other took her rump, rubbing a finger over her asshole before he lifted. With a teeth-clenched growl, he picked her up off the mattress, his legs quivering and buckling.
“What are you doing?!” she managed to find enough of her frontal lobe to speak again. “I’m too heavy!”
“Only because your tits and ass are so fucking huge!” he strained and turned, checking over her shoulder. “Get ready!”
With a last heft of a lift, he jumped for them both then fell on top of her, crashing them into the bed and him hard inside her like a charging bull to the groin.
This time her moan sounded like a mortal wound and there was a sharp pain in her pelvis and another, deep in her guts but another orgasm rushed in to make her ignore it all for now. A wild-eyed Waldemar rutted maniacally, not stopping to check on her. “Holy shit, can anything hurt you?!”
Portia was mindless again, wanting nothing but to fuck her sons forever. She couldn’t speak or even bother to shake her head but he didn’t stop anyway.
Finally he broke, huffing for air but his eyes remained crazed with lust. He grabbed her ankle, easing it higher and back, testing her flexibility until her knee was near her face and her thigh pushing her breast inward. Taking the other foot, he lifted it to her other side before thrusting again, lazy and easy, a gentle ride on the rolling sea.
The wave of her second orgasm crashed away and left her soaking, panting and lucid.
The guilt bobbed back up again, never gone for long: would he be doing this if he knew the truth? Would he be so rough if he believed he was awake and she was real?
She’d made her choice and couldn’t change that now. All that remained was to wallow in how delightful he felt inside her as his length jostled her empty stomach through inches of displaced organs that would be sore for days. The pain would make sure she didn't forget what she'd done.
The vixen watched him rise to his knees over breasts that were bigger and more restrained now, ballooned up and out over her thighs, barely losing his rhythm. Hunched over her, the thrusts got harder first, then faster while his eyes locked on her quaking, overflowing bosom.
Still holding her ankles, he pulled them upright and together, ankle to ankle doubled over her head before jumping on her again, grinding down hard then slammed down again, resuming his violent bucking against her.
Waldemar tugged her legs up to his chest and watched from around them before he pulled them apart to peek between.
“So am I as good as a horse?”
“You’re better.”
“I’m going to finish.”
“I’m shocked you haven’t already.”
Her son held himself with his enormous cock hilted within his mother as he guided her legs down towards the bed, her knees bent and her legs spread until her feet were on the pillow, framing her head while the thickness of her thighs ballooned her breasts up and out. With her spine arched like a drawn bow, her underside was completely skyward and her body folded in half.
“Wow…” he trembled as her hips squirmed, shifting him inside her. “You’re amazing.”
With his weight on top of her now and his cock angled straight down, he lifted himself then squatted, hard, practically falling on her.
Portia squealed and so did the bed frame before the softness of her body tremored in aftershock. He ran his hands over her hamstrings, fur between his fingers. Young and desperate hips lifted and dropped into her again, battering her already sore insides. He was mature enough to savor it.
The vixen was already been spoiled enough to cum twice and for this part, she would remember how fucked up this all was. Technically, the act was no more depraved whether or not he came inside the now barren womb that spawned him but it always felt like an extra level of blasphemy.
“I’m so close!” he said then pulled out abruptly, slinging a cocktail of their viscous lust over her breast and cheek. Her eyes locked to his erection as it wobbled and her jaw dropped in anticipation, her tongue rolled out like a red carpet. This was always good too.
“Almost the perfect dream,” he panted and looked down. “Just one more thing…” His impatient hand took a grip around his length and aimed it down again, brushing her asshole with his pointed tip before his hips dipped again. The weight behind it pushed her open with ease and the well-slickened shaft glided through the resistance of her unprepared pucker.
Portia tensed up in surprise, reeling her tongue in and snapping her teeth shut and her whole body clenched against every advice of anal sex. He’d caught her off guard and he yelped out as her clutching muscle gripped him.
“Fuck!” he squealed as he tried to pull out but only escaped a few inches then her hips rose with his, her tightness not as willing to let him go as enter. Hands snatched away to push down on her ass while he stood.
Springing free in perfect timing, he slung a thick line of ejaculate up her body from her left breast to her shoulder He recovered and pounced to sit on the backs of her thighs and push his cock between her cleavage, all before the following gush could blast her in the face.
“Suck it, Portia! Suck my giant dick!” he said, reaching down to gather her hair up in a ponytail, too oblivious to read the look of revulsion that took over her face.
“But…”
Waldemar pulled her mouth to it and filled her nose with his scent, now mixed with two of her own. She tipped back her muzzle to protect her nostrils and his next gush was point blank at her mouth.
This was supposed to be a dream, wasn’t it? And her, his dream girl? Would his dream girl deny him? Should a mother deny her son? Maybe she deserved this for being so depraved.
Portia had to explain to Jasper why this wasn’t something she did but no one else had tried. Would he be doing such a thing, if he thought this was real?
Closing her eyes, she hadn’t opened her mouth more than halfway when he pushed inside her muzzle to the back of her throat with two fists left of his length! Her eyes spread wide again to find his face hovering over her, panting in pure wonder. It was the way she wished her children would look up to her, even without having to resort to such depravities.
With a strong shiver, he throbbed and a surge of cum went straight into her throat, which she skillfully swallowed, though the volume of it remaining threatened to choke her. It was something she'd managed many times and the second swallow cleared it all. Her ponytail was released and he pulled out, stroking it still, aiming it at her face. With a wince, she closed her eyes just as he painted right between them, her forehead and cheeks.
Past it’s peak, his adolescent body buckled and the next gush was smaller. She felt his now delicate hand run over the side of her face, the tender combing of fur by knuckles.
With a gasp, she cracked her eyes open before a long, slow exhale. He was squatted on shaking legs, milking his cock of the last remnants of his orgasm over her breasts, before he collapsed to the bed at her side.
With a deep breath, she lowered her feet back down then stretched herself out. She closed her eyes again and relaxed in a bliss that made the shame of it all worthwhile.
“That was the best dream I've ever had. So vivid!” Waldemar managed to sound both excited and exhausted as he rolled onto his side.
Portia opened her eyes and exhaled, feeling the soreness between a hammered pelvis, a violated asshole and the deep ramming of her guts and organs.
“That was rougher than you should ever, ever be with a woman. At least until she asks for it. And you need to ask first with anything to do with the butt!”
Waldemar propped his head up in his hand but his eyes fell away from her before he shrugged.
“I know. None of this is real. I knew I couldn’t hurt you because you’re not real. And I know it’s not real because you wanted it.” He looked back to her with a sudden concern. “You wanted it right? Right?!”
In his momentary panic, she rolled to face him and giggled before giving him a peck of a kiss on his muzzle. He blushed beneath his fur. At least she could consider what he did enthusiasm and not a desire to degrade her.
“Yes, I wanted it. I thought I made that clear.”
He nodded and glanced away again with a huff. “If it was real, you’d have run away screaming.”
“Hey!” she was stern as she took his head in her hands, turning him back to her. With intense eyes, she had his attention again. “Those horses I traveled with back then?”
He gave a small nod.
“You think they were virgins when we met?”
Blinking, he found her eyes again. “No, I guess not. But horse girls…”
“So you think that I… I mean, the real me is the only non-horse female who can handle guys like that?”
“Well, you’re pretty special…”
Portia grinned and released his muzzle to tap a finger on his nose. “I am, for all my flaws. But I know for a fact I’m not the only fox out there who can handle a size like yours.” That was true: she'd met a few other women over the years with similar appetites and capacity.
Most recently, she’d watched her daughter, Marina do it both with a massive bear and her friend Booker, the well-endowed mink currently hosting several of her children. “Minks have that reputation too. And there are other, bigger species out there too, used to more endowed sizes.”
“Like you have flaws,” he scoffed. “But I guess you’re right. You can’t be the ONLY one like you.”
“I’m the only me!” she corrected. “But I’m not the only woman who can take a bigger cock than average for our species and you’re not the only fox that’s hung like a horse. I can say that with absolute certainty.”
“Really? I was sure I was a freak.”
The vixen took a gentle grip on his shoulder. “You only thought that because you're surrounded with average people. When you’re older, you’ll meet new people, especially if you travel. And you are adopted. If you have any siblings, the odds are they're well endowed too. And your parents. It's in your blood! And what are the chances they’re the only ones ever like this? You’re not as alone as you think.”
“You’re not going to start on this weird ‘mother’ thing again, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” she said, then paused.
“For whatever reason why you were adopted, you may have a bigger family than you think. And they’d be like you if you did. So you’re not a freak and you’re not alone. You’re just different than your peers and your peers are just the people that you've met so far.”
Waldemar squinted, his eyes already tired again but he pondered before they lit up. “That’s why you were talking about my mother! To remind me I’m not the only one like this.”
Portia sucked in a breath. “That’s exactly right.”
“I just need to find a woman like me!”
Grinning, she nodded. “Yes!”
“But not related to me. That’s disgusting.”
Eyes clenched mid-blink. “Of course it is. Someone LIKE you but not related to you. That’s disgusting.”
“Like the real, not-dream Portia.”
The sighed and huffed. “Or maybe a sweet girl closer to your own age, who likes you enough to try to make it work.”
“I wonder if Portia does have any kids. Maybe some daughters my age?”
“Probably not," she blurted out, shaking her head. "Cast a wider net than one person or bloodline.” She should talk. “I’m sure there are a lot of wonderful girls out there for you.”
“But I want a hot wife with giant boobs like yours!”
The vixen sat up with a wince and a hand clutched her abdomen. She'd felt worse. “You’re lamenting how lonely you are because you’re so unique but you’re only going to settle for someone equally unique in a different way?”
Her son rolled onto his back again and they remained in silence for a time.
Eventually she turned back to him, over her shoulder. “Well?”
He chuckled. “You’re right. I’m being silly. Wow, what a dream: sex and enlightenment.”
“What a dream indeed,” she shook her head and patted his thigh beside him, accidentally brushing a cock that had gone only half limp.
“I do mean it about the roughness, Waldemar. I know this isn't real but remember what your mother said: dreams are practice for reality.”
A guilty grin crept over his muzzle as his retreating erection gave a twitch of life.“I can do it better if we practice again.”
“Waldemar, I...”
“Portia make more sex sex?”
With a crinkled brow, she whipped back to look at his face. ”What?”
“Me likey snu snu more blunder goat brick.”
Her son's eyes were dilated now to their extremes, focusing on nothing in particular and his spine swayed like grass in a breeze.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded in a belated way that made clear he was not. He smiled with only half his face and she reached out to support his shoulders just before he fell back to the bed.
“Gobble doodle donkey doo!”
With that, his eyes closed and he started to snore.
“That was the best dream I've ever had. So vivid!” Waldemar managed to sound both excited and exhausted as he rolled onto his side.
Portia opened her eyes and exhaled, feeling the soreness between a hammered pelvis, a violated asshole and the deep ramming of her guts and organs.
“That was rougher than you should ever, ever be with a woman. At least until she asks for it. And you need to ask first with anything to do with the butt!”
Waldemar propped his head up in his hand but his eyes fell away from her before he shrugged.
“I know. None of this is real. I knew I couldn’t hurt you because you’re not real. And I know it’s not real because you wanted it.” He looked back to her with a sudden concern. “You wanted it right? Right?!”
In his momentary panic, she rolled to face him and giggled before giving him a peck of a kiss on his muzzle. He blushed beneath his fur. At least she could consider what he did enthusiasm and not a desire to degrade her.
“Yes, I wanted it. I thought I made that clear.”
He nodded and glanced away again with a huff. “If it was real, you’d have run away screaming.”
“Hey!” she was stern as she took his head in her hands, turning him back to her. With intense eyes, she had his attention again. “Those horses I traveled with back then?”
He gave a small nod.
“You think they were virgins when we met?”
Blinking, he found her eyes again. “No, I guess not. But horse girls…”
“So you think that I… I mean, the real me is the only non-horse female who can handle guys like that?”
“Well, you’re pretty special…”
Portia grinned and released his muzzle to tap a finger on his nose. “I am, for all my flaws. But I know for a fact I’m not the only fox out there who can handle a size like yours.” That was true: she'd met a few other women over the years with similar appetites and capacity.
Most recently, she’d watched her daughter, Marina do it both with a massive bear and her friend Booker, the well-endowed mink currently hosting several of her children. “Minks have that reputation too. And there are other, bigger species out there too, used to more endowed sizes.”
“Like you have flaws,” he scoffed. “But I guess you’re right. You can’t be the ONLY one like you.”
“I’m the only me!” she corrected. “But I’m not the only woman who can take a bigger cock than average for our species and you’re not the only fox that’s hung like a horse. I can say that with absolute certainty.”
“Really? I was sure I was a freak.”
The vixen took a gentle grip on his shoulder. “You only thought that because you're surrounded with average people. When you’re older, you’ll meet new people, especially if you travel. And you are adopted. If you have any siblings, the odds are they're well endowed too. And your parents. It's in your blood! And what are the chances they’re the only ones ever like this? You’re not as alone as you think.”
“You’re not going to start on this weird ‘mother’ thing again, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” she said, then paused.
“For whatever reason why you were adopted, you may have a bigger family than you think. And they’d be like you if you did. So you’re not a freak and you’re not alone. You’re just different than your peers and your peers are just the people that you've met so far.”
Waldemar squinted, his eyes already tired again but he pondered before they lit up. “That’s why you were talking about my mother! To remind me I’m not the only one like this.”
Portia sucked in a breath. “That’s exactly right.”
“I just need to find a woman like me!”
Grinning, she nodded. “Yes!”
“But not related to me. That’s disgusting.”
Eyes clenched mid-blink. “Of course it is. Someone LIKE you but not related to you. That’s disgusting.”
“Like the real, not-dream Portia.”
The sighed and huffed. “Or maybe a sweet girl closer to your own age, who likes you enough to try to make it work.”
“I wonder if Portia does have any kids. Maybe some daughters my age?”
“Probably not," she blurted out, shaking her head. "Cast a wider net than one person or bloodline.” She should talk. “I’m sure there are a lot of wonderful girls out there for you.”
“But I want a hot wife with giant boobs like yours!”
The vixen sat up with a wince and a hand clutched her abdomen. She'd felt worse. “You’re lamenting how lonely you are because you’re so unique but you’re only going to settle for someone equally unique in a different way?”
Her son rolled onto his back again and they remained in silence for a time.
Eventually she turned back to him, over her shoulder. “Well?”
He chuckled. “You’re right. I’m being silly. Wow, what a dream: sex and enlightenment.”
“What a dream indeed,” she shook her head and patted his thigh beside him, accidentally brushing a cock that had gone only half limp.
“I do mean it about the roughness, Waldemar. I know this isn't real but remember what your mother said: dreams are practice for reality.”
A guilty grin crept over his muzzle as his retreating erection gave a twitch of life.“I can do it better if we practice again.”
“Waldemar, I...”
“Portia make more sex sex?”
With a crinkled brow, she whipped back to look at his face. ”What?”
“Me likey snu snu more blunder goat brick.”
Her son's eyes were dilated now to their extremes, focusing on nothing in particular and his spine swayed like grass in a breeze.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded in a belated way that made clear he was not. He smiled with only half his face and she reached out to support his shoulders just before he fell back to the bed.
“Gobble doodle donkey doo!”
With that, his eyes closed and he started to snore.
Portia sprung up to all fours then off the bed to her feet, ignoring the throb of dull pain to look about defensively. “Anastasia?! What's happening?”
The familiar bulk of her daughter's breast came against her back before a hand came to her shoulder.
“He’s fine, mother. That was me. I thought we might want to go.”
The vixen spun around, smacking her breast right into a now visible Anastasia’s. It wasn’t the first time it had happened but she couldn’t get used to how much bigger her daughter was.
“Owwww!” She winced. “So you did that?”
Anastasia gave a reserved grin and a shrug. “Confusion spell. I don’t cast it often but I think it’ll help all this feel like a dream. Then the Sleep spell, naturally.”
“You can use those when you’re invisible?”
“No but it’s a big, dark room. Even I can hide in here.”
Portia relaxed her stance, her eyes squinting and her brow crushed before a racing mind.
Ana walked past her to the bed, looking it over. “It’s a shame we can’t tell him what happened. He hated magic but that’s all that kept his family from walking in! No sound could escape the room.”
“Could you have done that at any time?”
“I did it in time,” Ana looked back with a smile. “No one heard. Everyone is still in their rooms.”
Portia began to pace. “The confusion and sleep thing, I mean.”
“Of course," her daughter nodded and glanced back for a moment but the bed and Waldemar had her attention now. “That looked messy. You caught most of it but there are some splatters. I can clean this up.”
The vixen stopped and watched her daughter. She’d missed it all. The doubt. The breaking the rules. Ana was powerful but she didn't know how to read people. How could she, being raised in isolation by a horrible man?
She couldn’t be mad about this. Portia was the parent. Teeth bit her lips, holding back her words and for the moment, she focused on breathing.
Stepping away, she wandered back to the painting, looking at a younger self that for all she’d done by that age, was somehow so much more innocent.
“Thank you for doing that. I wasn’t sure how we were going to wrap it up and have him believe it was a dream.”
“It was sexy. I was nearby most of the time.”
“Did you masturbate?”
“I did.”
Portia puffed her cheeks and blew out a deep breath on her portrait. “What a hero,” she said flatly.
“I’m going to do the Clean Up spell now. Unless you wanted to go again? I think he’s having good dreams.”
She looked back to see Ana with a firm grip around Waldemar’s second-wind erection.
“No, let’s go. And gross. Don’t touch that.”
“You’ve got a lot of semen on you, mother. I can see it from here. Want me to do the spell on you too?"
"It's fine. It's just cum."
Ana nodded. "There’s some laundry in the corner if you need to wipe off.”
Portia licked her lips, cleaning her mouth as she made her way to the basket of clothes. Digging through it, she found a dark towel and wiped herself down with her back to the room, belly, breasts, neck and face. With it against her face, she took a deep smell of it, confirming it wasn’t it’s first encounter with his semen. Disgusted more with herself than the scent, she took another deep sniff then tossed it back and turned around and froze.
“Ana?” She canted her head. “ANA!”
Clutching her chest, she ran back to the bed where her daughter was hunched over with her hands planted on the mattress and her bosom ballooning against it’s side. Her tail was raised and her rump exposed while her head bobbed up and down over her brother’s lap. “Ana, you better not be…”
Portia ran to the foot board and grabbed it before she hissed “ANA!”
Anastasia froze and looked at her mother, several inches of Waldemar’s cock in her mouth.
“What the fuck? That was up my ass!”
She shrugged and lifted her muzzle free of him with a wet smack.
“So was Jasper. I was cleaning up.” Darting eyes searched anything to focus on beside her mother.
Portia’s fists punched her waist with a jiggle of her chest. “Since when did you have to suck anything clean?"
Anastasia stood half upright and pursed her lip, her breasts now hanging over his lap and brushing his erection. “I was curious. I've wondered before if a man could ejaculate in his sleep.”
“So you went straight to sucking it?!”
Ana frowned with the smallest of shrugs. “What are you upset about? I did it with Jasper four months ago.”
“Jasper was awake.”
“Waldemar thought he was asleep.”
“I shouldn’t have done that! I broke the rules!”
“Which rule?”
She huffed and shook her fists. “Consent! He thought he was dreaming and he didn’t believe I'm his mother. You heard what he said at the end: that what I do is disgusting, just like every other normal person. And you could have put him back to sleep before I fucked him!”
Ana puckered her mouth and looked down at the expanse of her chest that made sure she never saw the ground around her feet. “You wanted to though. So did he. Did I misunderstand again?”
Portia slapped her hands over her eyes and held her head, shaking it.
“Sorry mother.” Her voice was weak. “I’ll clean up. I won’t touch him.”
Ana spoke her now familiar nonsense and Portia kept her eyes closed for it. It sounded like the cleaning spell and she didn’t bother to open her eyes when she inhaled the momentary ozone before it was replaced with the smell of soap and fragrance.
Keen ears heard her heavy daughter approaching though barefoot on the rug, she was nearly silent. She was good at moving quietly, especially for her size and weight.
Ana’s hand came back to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, mother. I’m trying.”
Portia opened her eyes to see Anastasia, eyes wide and soft with her lower lip tight and curled. Had she ever seen her so sad?
The elder vixen shook her head and pulled her in to what they’d optimized through practice, as the best way for their unique bodies to hug: hunched over and forward, almost enough to fall if they weren’t supporting each other, breasts crashing together but not to where they couldn't hug to the other's opposite shoulders. She squeezed her close.
“No dear.” One hand moved to the back of her head. “Sometimes I forget that you were raised by a piece of shit wizard and you went from that to your horrible, pervert mother. All things considered, you’re amazing.”
Ana pulled tighter still. “You’re not horrible.”
Portia lifted a brow and chuckled.
“Do you want me to say you’re not a pervert?”
“I don’t want you to lie, no.”
“What even is a pervert? What’s the opposite of one? I think I'm a pervert and I'm still a virgin.”
The elder vixen eased them both back upright and rubbed her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s discuss that more when we get out of here. When we have that talk about consent and all it’s nuances. Okay?”
Ana nodded with a tight smile. “Are we going? The Silence spell will break the moment we open a door or window.”
“Yes, let’s go,” Portia started for the door, her lingering at Waldemar's bedside. “We’ve messed him up enough.”
“Maybe it’s the piece of shit wizard talking but I think you helped him be less messed up.”
Portia chuckled. “With his obsession with boobs, do you think he’s going to wind up marrying one of his sisters without knowing it?”
Ana gave a shrug, tiny as always. “By the numbers, his odds aren't bad this generation. Should we come back and check in a year or two?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I agree.”
“Better yet, let’s never come back to this town.” With a twirl and flourish on her way toward the door, she waved to her unconscious son. “Have a nice life, Waldemar.”
“Wait!” Ana clenched her arms to restrain her chest and jogged after. She had a light pant from the short distance when she caught up.
“It's safer if I lead. Remember? I can see if there are watchmen coming.”
“I can hear if watchmen are coming.”
“You can’t see them through walls.”
Portia sighed. “Right. Of course you can.” With a flamboyant twirl of the wrist, she gestured to the door. “Lead the way, Anastasia.”
Portia sprung up to all fours then off the bed to her feet, ignoring the throb of dull pain to look about defensively. “Anastasia?! What's happening?”
The familiar bulk of her daughter's breast came against her back before a hand came to her shoulder.
“He’s fine, mother. That was me. I thought we might want to go.”
The vixen spun around, smacking her breast right into a now visible Anastasia’s. It wasn’t the first time it had happened but she couldn’t get used to how much bigger her daughter was.
“Owwww!” She winced. “So you did that?”
Anastasia gave a reserved grin and a shrug. “Confusion spell. I don’t cast it often but I think it’ll help all this feel like a dream. Then the Sleep spell, naturally.”
“You can use those when you’re invisible?”
“No but it’s a big, dark room. Even I can hide in here.”
Portia relaxed her stance, her eyes squinting and her brow crushed before a racing mind.
Ana walked past her to the bed, looking it over. “It’s a shame we can’t tell him what happened. He hated magic but that’s all that kept his family from walking in! No sound could escape the room.”
“Could you have done that at any time?”
“I did it in time,” Ana looked back with a smile. “No one heard. Everyone is still in their rooms.”
Portia began to pace. “The confusion and sleep thing, I mean.”
“Of course," her daughter nodded and glanced back for a moment but the bed and Waldemar had her attention now. “That looked messy. You caught most of it but there are some splatters. I can clean this up.”
The vixen stopped and watched her daughter. She’d missed it all. The doubt. The breaking the rules. Ana was powerful but she didn't know how to read people. How could she, being raised in isolation by a horrible man?
She couldn’t be mad about this. Portia was the parent. Teeth bit her lips, holding back her words and for the moment, she focused on breathing.
Stepping away, she wandered back to the painting, looking at a younger self that for all she’d done by that age, was somehow so much more innocent.
“Thank you for doing that. I wasn’t sure how we were going to wrap it up and have him believe it was a dream.”
“It was sexy. I was nearby most of the time.”
“Did you masturbate?”
“I did.”
Portia puffed her cheeks and blew out a deep breath on her portrait. “What a hero,” she said flatly.
“I’m going to do the Clean Up spell now. Unless you wanted to go again? I think he’s having good dreams.”
She looked back to see Ana with a firm grip around Waldemar’s second-wind erection.
“No, let’s go. And gross. Don’t touch that.”
“You’ve got a lot of semen on you, mother. I can see it from here. Want me to do the spell on you too?"
"It's fine. It's just cum."
Ana nodded. "There’s some laundry in the corner if you need to wipe off.”
Portia licked her lips, cleaning her mouth as she made her way to the basket of clothes. Digging through it, she found a dark towel and wiped herself down with her back to the room, belly, breasts, neck and face. With it against her face, she took a deep smell of it, confirming it wasn’t it’s first encounter with his semen. Disgusted more with herself than the scent, she took another deep sniff then tossed it back and turned around and froze.
“Ana?” She canted her head. “ANA!”
Clutching her chest, she ran back to the bed where her daughter was hunched over with her hands planted on the mattress and her bosom ballooning against it’s side. Her tail was raised and her rump exposed while her head bobbed up and down over her brother’s lap. “Ana, you better not be…”
Portia ran to the foot board and grabbed it before she hissed “ANA!”
Anastasia froze and looked at her mother, several inches of Waldemar’s cock in her mouth.
“What the fuck? That was up my ass!”
She shrugged and lifted her muzzle free of him with a wet smack.
“So was Jasper. I was cleaning up.” Darting eyes searched anything to focus on beside her mother.
Portia’s fists punched her waist with a jiggle of her chest. “Since when did you have to suck anything clean?"
Anastasia stood half upright and pursed her lip, her breasts now hanging over his lap and brushing his erection. “I was curious. I've wondered before if a man could ejaculate in his sleep.”
“So you went straight to sucking it?!”
Ana frowned with the smallest of shrugs. “What are you upset about? I did it with Jasper four months ago.”
“Jasper was awake.”
“Waldemar thought he was asleep.”
“I shouldn’t have done that! I broke the rules!”
“Which rule?”
She huffed and shook her fists. “Consent! He thought he was dreaming and he didn’t believe I'm his mother. You heard what he said at the end: that what I do is disgusting, just like every other normal person. And you could have put him back to sleep before I fucked him!”
Ana puckered her mouth and looked down at the expanse of her chest that made sure she never saw the ground around her feet. “You wanted to though. So did he. Did I misunderstand again?”
Portia slapped her hands over her eyes and held her head, shaking it.
“Sorry mother.” Her voice was weak. “I’ll clean up. I won’t touch him.”
Ana spoke her now familiar nonsense and Portia kept her eyes closed for it. It sounded like the cleaning spell and she didn’t bother to open her eyes when she inhaled the momentary ozone before it was replaced with the smell of soap and fragrance.
Keen ears heard her heavy daughter approaching though barefoot on the rug, she was nearly silent. She was good at moving quietly, especially for her size and weight.
Ana’s hand came back to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, mother. I’m trying.”
Portia opened her eyes to see Anastasia, eyes wide and soft with her lower lip tight and curled. Had she ever seen her so sad?
The elder vixen shook her head and pulled her in to what they’d optimized through practice, as the best way for their unique bodies to hug: hunched over and forward, almost enough to fall if they weren’t supporting each other, breasts crashing together but not to where they couldn't hug to the other's opposite shoulders. She squeezed her close.
“No dear.” One hand moved to the back of her head. “Sometimes I forget that you were raised by a piece of shit wizard and you went from that to your horrible, pervert mother. All things considered, you’re amazing.”
Ana pulled tighter still. “You’re not horrible.”
Portia lifted a brow and chuckled.
“Do you want me to say you’re not a pervert?”
“I don’t want you to lie, no.”
“What even is a pervert? What’s the opposite of one? I think I'm a pervert and I'm still a virgin.”
The elder vixen eased them both back upright and rubbed her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s discuss that more when we get out of here. When we have that talk about consent and all it’s nuances. Okay?”
Ana nodded with a tight smile. “Are we going? The Silence spell will break the moment we open a door or window.”
“Yes, let’s go,” Portia started for the door, her lingering at Waldemar's bedside. “We’ve messed him up enough.”
“Maybe it’s the piece of shit wizard talking but I think you helped him be less messed up.”
Portia chuckled. “With his obsession with boobs, do you think he’s going to wind up marrying one of his sisters without knowing it?”
Ana gave a shrug, tiny as always. “By the numbers, his odds aren't bad this generation. Should we come back and check in a year or two?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I agree.”
“Better yet, let’s never come back to this town.” With a twirl and flourish on her way toward the door, she waved to her unconscious son. “Have a nice life, Waldemar.”
“Wait!” Ana clenched her arms to restrain her chest and jogged after. She had a light pant from the short distance when she caught up.
“It's safer if I lead. Remember? I can see if there are watchmen coming.”
“I can hear if watchmen are coming.”
“You can’t see them through walls.”
Portia sighed. “Right. Of course you can.” With a flamboyant twirl of the wrist, she gestured to the door. “Lead the way, Anastasia.”
The End