FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Furry/adult/fantasy)

It had been almost a month since the vixen adventuress of great repute, Portia Pridemoon had met that road-weary traveler, deep in the Western reaches of the land. At a tavern room table, he had told the tale her a tale so chilling that brought her back to her Northern home for the first time in nearly two decades.

"Do you have a daughter? I swear I've seen her while traveling in the Pale Lands!" he insisted. "Younger, for certain. Still a teenager but your spitting imagine, I swear it. Well, except for her chest."

"Well, that tends to be the differentiating factor from me and some other vixens in that part of the world."

He'd stepped back and taken a long and obvious look at her. "No, I mean she was bigger than you. MUCH bigger!"

She hadn't hid the sting to her ego well at that, with both her age and her prolific bosom insulted at once but she kept it professional enough to dig deeper for the insulting elements were also the certain suggestion that her own family was involved for builds such as hers were uncommon to say the least and a signature trait of the Vasiljev royal bloodline.

While Portia was well-known as a big-hearted adventuress and do-gooder from many years of travel, adventure and heroism, it was known by almost no one that she was also the first heir to the throne of The Pale Lands, a responsibility which had led her to run away and flee the kingdom as a teenager, many years ago.

At first, she was certain the traveler had seen her younger sister, Augustina who would be around that age but he likely would have mentioned the royal procession and legion of guards if any of her family had left the Royal Palace. And were the young princess to venture out of the Pale Lands which in itself was unlikely, her and especially her proportions wouldn't have been presented in a way which a traveling passerby would have been able to tell.

"It was her and I'd guess her younger brother, riding on the back of a carriage. Practically twins. In the front sat a brute of a horse next to a creepy, old raccoon. Once he noticed me, he stared back with the evilest eyes I've ever seen! It was like he stared right through me and into my soul!" the traveler had said with a shiver of genuine terror. "I saw them take a fork in the road at Crackle Bend, heading towards the mountain. Only a dark sorcerer lives down that way. Perhaps it was him?" The story was wild enough and the hardened traveler serious enough that she thought it worth investigating. She had to know if something happened to Augustina and the other fox could easily be her younger brother, Prince Mikke. And if it had, she had to help them.

With his description and her dated but thorough knowledge of her own family's Kingdom, they drew a map together then she set out alone and with haste to investigate. Then she ventured North with haste, traveling mostly at night once she had crossed the sea back to her kingdom, to avoid being spotted, although Princess Portia had run away almost nineteen years ago.

Had they been kidnapped? It was the only rational explanation as she had always been told that none were more gifted than the Vasiljev clan. For it was the rulers of the Pale Lands who needed to be the strongest, it was them who must be the most tempted she'd been told by the Palace Priests. It had sounded ridiculous to her, even as a young kit. She suspected the truth was the Vasiljevs and the Pale Lands weren't always so uptight.

It had been hard and fast travel across several Kingdoms, climates and the sea but last night and all day today, back in her native, eternal, snow-covered winter, she had camped out near Crackle Bend, waiting to approach the next right, well rested and under the cover of nightfall.

Now, Portia had made her way down the road after the fork, keeping to the treeline and navigating it with skillful grace unsuited to her proportions, which always surprised those privileged to witness it. At the end of it, several hours later, she found a small Manor, several stories tall and surrounded by a high, defensible wall. She crept around it, draped in a heavy, white, warm cloak to hide her dark brown, leather armor and blend her in with the knee-deep snow.

The vixen inspected the outer walls for magical wards. Spellcasters often left seals of alarm and defense for to protect their domains. She had never trusted their kind much and in her effort to defend against them, she had recently learned to break wards non-magically. All it took was physically breaking the seal with her recently acquired medallion made of relagite; a rare and special metal that would absorb magical energy, providing a welcome defense from shifty magical attacks directed at her. Being able to break wards with it turned out to be an unintended but useful, extra effect that she learned from the adventurers who'd introduced her to the incredibly rare material in the first place.

She climbed the outer wall with ease and approached the house, peering in the ground floor windows until she saw a flickering light from a fire. It was against her better judgement to go in without proper reconnaissance but her recently acquired charm might be enough to deal with a sorcerer. The horse? She'd have to take her chances with him and she'd prepared a knockout poison and several blow darts that should do the trick.

Emboldened enough by the lack of defenses and with no other obvious entrance than the front door, she nestled the relegite medallion back into her cleavage before wrapping herself back in her cloak. And then she walked right up to the front door and knocked before rushing back a few steps and spinning around, kneeling and raising the blowgun to her mouth.

After a suspiciously long moment, the door opened some and an annoyed looking monster of a horseman stood there, fire in his eyes and the handle of a hatchet in his hand, presenting enough of himself for Portia to blow a dart right into his neck. The door swung open forcefully and the horse took one heavy hoofstep out into the snow before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward like an avalanche. The traveler had been quite clear of the size of the horse guardian and she had prepared with an appropriately powerful tranquilizer.

Portia loaded another dart quickly, just in case but he was quite still for a long moment. She gave a sigh of relief before stepping over him and entering the building, the horse's unconscious body blocking the door from closing. She hadn't quite thought that part through.

She stepped over him and grabbed his feet, his legs nearly too heavy to lift. She managed to get one up in each armpit and attempt to drag him inside with her every bit of strength but she might as well be trying to drag the house up and around him. He was unmoving.

The vixen cursed herself and her poor planning. Knocking on the front door and knocking out the defender of the house in it, in the middle of winter? She had grown up in these conditions and should have planning this out better. She could have lured him out into the snow and at least closed the door but the horse would freeze to death and she wasn't in the habit of killing anyone not irredeemably evil or perpetuating something truly heinous. There was no known wrongdoing; only the spotting of a suspiciously familiar vixen. She had only come to investigate!

"What are you doing?!" a young, male voice barked from behind her and she spun about, drawing the short sword she wore on a belt, hung on the outside of her closed cloak.

A stark, white-furred fox in a heavy, red evening robe stood at the bottom of the stairs across from the front door, a candle in one hand and a dagger in the other. He was barely five feet tall and lean, looking to be out of his childhood but likely not by much. The candlelight flickered on features that were impossibly handsome; a strong jaw beneath a straight muzzle leading to the perfectly angled brow before disappearing into a messy mop of boyish hair, which two white ears poked out of. His eyes were dark brown and seemingly liquid, open and alert. He was some years shy of being a grown man but it was apparent that he would be a stunning man when he was of age. This wasn't something she normally noticed about boys and not men but this one had a presence to him, despite his obvious fear in the situation.

He was the right age to be Mikke but he had been born after she'd left and she wouldn't know his fur or markings if she saw them.

"Mikke? Is that you?" The young fox crinkles his brow in confusion and he didn't need to answer so she didn't give him the opportunity to. "Princess Augustina: is she here?" she barked a rapid follow up and he looked every bit as confused. It wasn't them. This was all a big misunderstanding and she gave a small slump of relief.

"I don't know either of those names. I'm Joseph," he gave a slow shake of his head and she tilted hers curiously. Mikke would be 14, Augustina would be 22 and she'd always been told that everyone in the Pale Lands knew all the names of the royal family. He must be a bit sheltered. "Who are you and what are you doing in here?!" he said, brandishing the dagger threateningly but clearly without proficiency.

"Your equine friend here answered the door then sort of, fainted. He's too heavy for me to move. Can you help me drag him inside?" She straightened up her stance and resheathed the shortsword and the young fox visibly relaxed some.

"Master Zarron could move him with ease but he would be angry to find an uninvited guest. He might do bad things to you." Her hackles raised again. Misunderstanding or not, the traveler has called this the home of a dark sorcerer and some investigation was probably still in order.

"Your master is going to feel this cold soon if we don't get the door closed. Help me move him and I'll leave, okay?"

Joseph didn't seem to be as concerned about that from his reaction but took a step forward off the bottom step and set down the candle first, then the dagger on a small table at the bottom of the spiral stairs. With reluctance, he stepped up to join her, grabbing one heavy leg as she lifted the other, shoulder to shoulder with him. He must have just bathed because he smelled incredible, like fresh lavender essence which would be incredibly expensive in the Pale Lands and probably illegal. Something was definitely peculiar with this place.

They both pulled with all their strength, planting their feet in the floorboards and the limp horse gave a little but the young fox's added strength wasn't helping much. He started to sweat. They both stepped back with a pant and he was clearly determined to help now, shrugging off his robe and setting it aside. "Yeah, good idea. Then I'll lift from the head and you, the feet," the strained and sweating vixen said as she stepped around beside the horse, unbuckling her belt and lowering it to the ground then shrugging off her heavy cloak. Underneath was her usual attire for the moderate, southern climate: fur-lined, leather gloves to her elbows and matching boots up above her knees, exposing only a few inches of strong, sculpted thighs before they disappear up under a hard leather flap skirt. Her top was the impressive piece, supporting her bosom and protecting her vitals while using some of the space for pockets, pouches and a sheathed dagger.

Why had she started sweating after such brief labor, she thought but only when she stepped back out into the snow did it make sense: the house was magically heated. The biting cold was a wall that began the moment she crossed the threshold of the house, while the foyer remained comfortably warm. She turned back to find the young fox standing there, now in a blouse and trousers, staring at her in complete shock, eyes right at her chest. Her generous breasts were clamped together and held up by the hard leather top she wore but from above, there was a view of her bottomless canyon of cleavage.

"By the Gods, you've got breasts like my sister's! They're enormous! I mean, not like my sisters. Well, one of my sisters. She can barely use her arms but you're not my sister. We're.... Not related," he said with a sudden self awareness that drew her eyes down with his. In his trousers, even in the dim fire and candle light of the house was an unmistakable bulge down one thigh, with a thickness like her upper arm, separated from the outline of his leg all the way down to his knee.

She stared for a long moment as the bulge evolved before her eyes, a monster shifting beneath the cloth. He was young but getting a look at his whole body, he was lean and fit, coming into his manhood. She shivered and turned her gaze away: he was just a kid and she didn't look at them this way. Again though, there was something different about her and her body came to disagreement with her brain as heat flushed her loins while the rest of her became quite aware of the cold.

Focus, Portia.

"Quite a thing to notice your sister's breasts," she said coolly with a coy grin before she squatted down, resting her bosom on the back of the horse's head before the boy's envious eyes. She hooked her arms underneath the stallion's armpits and straightened her back, bracing to lift, flexing her thick thighs.

"No! Ewww! Disgusting!" he snapped out quickly to defend himself before rushing up to help, squatting down and hooking both of the horse's legs under his arms. In this position his swelling erection was aimed right at her and at this rate, he wouldn't be bending that knee again soon. Her eyes fixated on his adolescent crippler again and she pushed her hips softly into the crown of the horse's head, grinding subtly. Just for a moment. It was unfair to have met this gorgeous boy several years too early and when she had a job to do.

"Lift!" she ordered and they both did, their thighs easily getting them halfway up but gravity resisted beyond that. Gritted teeth and straining faces followed as they struggled with the weight.

"Hnnnnnghhhh!" the young fox groaned with strain, making a face she imagined would preclude his explosive orgasm.

Stop thinking about fucking this kid! He's too young!

Easy for her mind to say when her mind didn't have a soaking, hot vagina or eyes staring down the outline of a gorgeous, huge dick. She grunted too, channeling her sexual frustration into the lift and the horse finally started to clear the ground. "Walk back! Walk back!" They shuffled in disorderly semi-unison, a few feet until the young fox lost his footing and fell back, pulling Portia off balance as well. The fox fell on his rump and the vixen, the horse's back, face first, splayed out across him, the horse's pants-clad rear in front of her face.

"Did we clear it?" he asked with some embarassment and she lifted up herself on her arms enough to look back over her shoulder.

"We did!" She pulls herself back to her feet and closes the door, oddly having no effect on the noise or the temperature of the room. "Magic," she mutters under her breath, disapprovingly before turning back to the boy. He had stepped back to the table and retrieved the dagger, which would be less threatening if his giant cock wasn't trying to rip out of his trousers and jump across the room towards her.

"Tell me what's going on here," he said with wavering confidence and she raised her hands, out and open innocently. "Master Zarron tells us when we are expecting company. He didn't tell us to expect you."

"No, he wouldn't have," Portia said, standing tall and proud, being sure to keep her chest pushed out. "I heard that maybe you and your sister were being held against your will. I'm here to see if you needed help." She took a small step forward and lowered her voice. "Do you need help? Were you kidnapped"

Joseph was clearly confused more than he should have been by this question. "I... we... no. We were all born here. We've lived here all our lives."

"But Zarron. He's the raccoon, right? Where are your parents?"

Still confused at another question that shouldn't be, he hesitated. "We don't have..." he stopped himself and raised the dagger again. "I don't think you're supposed to be here. You should go."

Portia gave an innocent but crooked smile and took another step closer, speaking with a tone she had cultivated over her years to melt men. "Is that really what you want? For me to leave and you to never see me again?"

He shook where he stood, obvious in his conflict. "You're asking a lot of questions."

"I just want to to know what goes on here. Make sure that everyone is happy, safe and free. That your Master isn't hurting anyone. Can we go, sit down together and talk? It's cold out there and I'm obviously not here to hurt you."

"Five minutes. Then you have to go." He paused and looked down at himself. "I need my robe. This is embarrassing."

Portia waited for him to fetch it, resisting the urge to stop him. It would be easier to get to the bottom of whatever oddness was going on here if she wasn't distracted by his eager erection. As he put it back on, she made her way over to a couch in front of the fireplace, leaving her cloak and sword behind at the front door.

She draped her arm over the back of the couch, looking back as he walked over, looking apprehensive before he sat down on the far end of the couch from her, glancing back at her breasts. She scooted closer until her knee touched his, her draped over hand nearly at his shoulder. "Now, tell me about your parents. Where are they?"

"I don't have parents. None of us do," he said weakly toward the fire, keeping his hands in his lap, bunching up his robe.

Portia froze for a moment. "No parents? You've never met your mother and father?"

He gazed down, distantly and gives his head a small shake. Were they orphans? Was this something to do with the supposed dark sorcery? She took her arms back to slip the relegite medallion from around her neck, the nervous boy glancing over as the round metal bounced against the exposed tops of her breasts before she removed it. She reached out, offering it to him, without much thought of what would happen if he had been some kind of magical creature but perhaps the relagite would tell her something. "Hold this."

He already seemed uncomfortable in his seat, one leg outstretched straight from the couch, slouching deep in it. He took the offered medallion and inspected it without any apparent reaction. "What is this?"

"Just an amulet. It protects... me."

"Oh, I see," he said, handing it back to her. She slipped it back around her neck as he looked on, squirming a little in his seat, wincing in discomfort. She was quite familiar with this kinds of reactions.

"You're in a lot of pain, aren't you? You can take it out," she blurted out with a quieter tone, pursing her lips with curious anticipation. She immediately regretted saying that, knowing it was coming from a place of desire and not mercy but the boy had been clearly suffering either way. He looked back in disbelief and she sat there, waiting so he shook his head in a shiver and opened his robe and then his fly. There was far too much of it to just pull out at this point and the boy had to plant his back into the couch and his feet on the floor before pushing up and off, pulling his pants down to his knees and just passed, freeing that trapped monster which slung out in slow motion like a trebuchet to smack his chest before coming to rest, mostly upright. He gave loud, deflating sigh of relief.

He revealed a beautiful, thick, glossy red canine, cock with a tapered tip growing to full thickness down most of its length before tapering in toward to clenched ball at the base of his sheath which would swell into a knot before his orgasms. It was of a variety with which she knew well, but of an extremely uncommon size. It would be too much for most and there was surely some explanation in her own family's bloodline why she could handle much more than what should be possible. She'd never seen one of them as an adult but she knew her own brothers were as excessively endowed as the women in her family were.

Portia's jaw hung open as she stared at it, her thighs pushing together. Looking at this very adult looking cock made it easier to forget his age.

Focus Portia!

She darted her eyes back to his, which were watching her watch it. "Why are you so hard? Because of me?"

"We don't get out much at all. Only when Zarron needs something, which with his great magic, isn't often at all. Usually guests come to us and they're almost always men or couples. So I spend all my time in the house, months at a time, doing chores while Evangeline tends the children and Anastasia studies magic with Master," he explained. "...so I don't see many women I am not related to. And you're just so beautiful. And I didn't think anyone but my sisters had such breasts."

She smiled warmly and reached out to brush his cheek, the vixen an absolutely sponge for flattery. She caught herself arching her spine.

I'm going to fuck this kid.

You better not!

She gave her head a little shake at her conflict. He had said something important.

"You have other sisters?" His eyes widened. He had done something wrong and he started to start up but she was quick enough to reach out and hold his shoulders, now bringing her chest against him, half filling his lap with them. "Wait!" she barked in his ear before wrapping a gloved hand around his cock, barely more than halfway around it. He froze.

"You don't want to go anywhere," she assured with a whisper and he sunk back into his seat obediently. "Good boy. Tell me about your sisters. Are there other brothers too?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about any of that," he blurted out, folding his arms in a pout.

"I'm not supposed to jerk off boys your age but here we are," she says, her face alongside his, giving his cock a slow and teasing stroke.

He practically whimpered at her teasing, looking down at her hand on his cock. "Take off your glove?" he asks meekly and she lifts her hand away, presenting it to him. He looked between her eyes and then her hand before reach out and taking hold of the elbow length, leather glove by it's fingertips and tugging. Her yellowish, ivory fur ended at her elbows and the removed glove exposed her charcoal black furred "socks" extending all the way to her digits. She looked on with a satisfied smile. He stared at her arm as he reveals it, clearly his first time undressing a woman.

He set the glove gingerly aside and she returned his hand hand to his girth, slowly wrapping one finger around then the next until he felt the full warmth of her natural grip. "Brothers and sisters?" she says expectantly, waiting to stroke.

"I don't know how many I have. Only Anastasia and Evangeline live here. Most of them were older than me but there's a lot of them, I know that." Portia began to stroke, sitting up against him and he gives a delighted shudder. "That feels so much better than the glove."

"For me too," she smiles, her right arm still draped around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. "Lots of brothers and sisters but no parents. How in the world does that work?"

"Master Zarron. His magics are around life energy. He's very old and potent," he says, panting as he watches her slowly stroking him, up and down that impressive length.

The vixen looked concerned at that explanation. "He creates life? That's... some kind magic. How does he do that?"

The boy paused and looked back to her eyes, then his cock. Then her mouth. "I'll tell you everything... if you put your mouth on it."

She gave a small smile and brought her nose to his ear. "Sure." She didn't need to move much for how long he was, instead moving his cock to aim towards her before she leaned in, her breasts rest on her thigh and her hand guiding his cock up along them. She opens her mouth, letting her hot breath paint over his tapered cockhead. "I'm going to stop if you don't talk," she warned before lowering her head at a painfully slow, teasing pace.

Her tongue made contact first at the underside of his tip, flattening against it and dragging down as her upper lip met it next, her mouth starting to open wider for him. He inhaled dramatically at the new sensation, staring with disbelieving eyes. She stopped there and looked back to him, expectantly while her nostrils flared, drinking in his scent. His cock's scent was intoxicating, making it difficult to stop herself.

Joseph was all too eager to talk now and the vixen didn't keep him waiting as he did. "He doesn't create life from scratch. He says that nobody can do that. Rather he cultivates life with the aid of magic, like planting seeds in a field. He can't grow them any faster than what is natural. So I was born in the 242nd year of the Qii Era. "

Portia coughed through her nose at that and paused for a moment, staring down a cock that might have more inches than years. She'd had some young lovers but nothing like this. This was not going to be remembered as one of her finer moments but Joseph continued to spill quite the story.

"He doesn't need to grow them where is natural though. And he can make modifications before they are born and resolve natural incompatibilities." Several inches of him were inside her muzzle now, her jaw inelegantly opened before she pulled slowly, almost reluctantly. She gasped for a breath before continuing.

"Like how your sister is so busty and you are so handsome and hung? What do you mean by incompatibilities?" He reached out hesistitantly for the back of her head before pulling her back to his cock.

He wasn't completely submissive and the vixen responded with a coy grin before easing her mouth full of his cock once again, watching him as she twisted and pumped gently with her head.

"I guess so. All of the younger brothers I've seen are big as well. I don't know about my other sisters except Evangeline. She's is really busty but not like Anastasia. She's more like you. Gods, this is hard to concentrate!" She took a moment to pause and look over at him, clearly threatening to stop. "Right. About incompatibilities... ummmm... he is able to combine traits of species who can't naturally breed with each other. Like, one of my brothers was half horse. A number of them have been, actually. Others were part mink, part stag, all kinds of things. Eventually Zarron starting taking special orders for different combinations. Some of the youngest of my brothers and sisters have gone out with traits from three or four different species."

This is still ok, she assured herself. Sure, he was very young but it wasn't really sex and the boy was practically singing everything she wanted to know over the sounds of her mouth around his cock. There were definitely some things here that needed investigating. A wizard selling designer children was quite a discovery. And she would investigate that. Soon.

But his smell was intoxicating. A small, quiet warning in the back of her mind triggered. Not her conscience about sucking the cock of a teen more than half her age but a memory from her many days in the south. An encounter with her supposed cousin who turned out to be an incubus, which led to a solid month of nonstop depravity with him and gods-only-knew-who- else that ruined several friendships and a whole room at an inn in Red Hill, far to the south. It wasn't the first time her lusts had clouded her judgement but it had been the worst. Sucking a teenager's cock downstairs from a life-altering sorcerer seemed like a close second. But it what a magnificent cock.

She pulled off with a wet smack of her lips, leaving her muzzle already quite near his face. "You're not an incubus, are you?" she mutters, staring hungrily into his young eyes. Sucking his dick wasn't making her any less horny but maybe she could make him pop before she has the chance to use it.

Nose to nose practically, he shook his head with fearful eyes, not even seeming to know what she meant but there she was, right there and so close so he leaned in to kiss her. It was wet and inexperienced as she'd expect from him but it had a sweet sincerity that made her compelled her to kiss him back, laying her chest along his and running her fingers through his hair. He brought up and hand to lay flat along the outer curve of her leather top, the closest he can do to cut those armored breasts that dwarfed his hands.

She kept her bare hand stroking his cock while she kissed him deeply with mouth and tongue. She pulled back, her investigative mind reminding her that she needed to know more before she lost her leverage but increasingly, that inner voice was coming from a deep and distant well in her mind. "How much does he charge for a child?" This would tell her who was buying. Perhaps he an ethical mage offering children to mixed species couples who could naturally reproduce?

"He starts at one hundred, thousand platinum coins," the boy said, pushing in for another kiss, which she allowed. "I've heard of up the five times that. People spend whole fortunes on children from Zarron." That answered that question. Hardly benevolent intentions of the sorcerer's part. She would definitely need to have to look into this deeper!

Joseph has been running his hand up along her strong, sculpted thigh then creeping under her skirt. She watched him as he fingers discovered the lack of undergarments beneath her armored leather, flap skirt and moments later, the burning, wet desire of her feminine folds. He ran his fingers over them, marveling at the sensation but exploring with a purpose. Their eyes locked again as his digging fingers found entry and two of them together ungracefully pushed up inside her, coaxing a sharp inhale from the vixen. Joseph's brows were high and his excited smile reminded her that he was much too immature to be be doing this. At least mentally. His body was absolutely, in this moment, all but demanding they be doing this.

"That means you're ready, right?" he said hopefully, pushing his fingers back and forth at an awkward cadence. "For sex?"

She gave a small nod. The voice of reason shouted from down a deep well, somewhere in the back of her mind. Not about his age anymore. That voice was already too far away to be heard. This was the voice that kept her alive in dangerous situations and it was rarely so distant. The horse on the floor would be out for hours but he wasn't the danger here. "Zarron... he's upstairs, right now?"

Joseph nods. "Yes but his study is in a cone of silence. As long as I bring them their meals, they don't come down for days at a time. Sometimes weeks! They won't hear a thing."

That sounded reasonable enough in her current state. She'd just clear her head and not waste the moment. He was young but he was obviously ready and no one had to know. If she just minded not to get tied by the kit she could fuck away the lustful haze he'd put her in and get back to the hero business in a few minutes tops. She assured herself he was probably older than what he'd said. It seemed unlikely that a wizard would be concerned with his houseboy's birthday. He certainly looked a bit older. Still, he was young and she carried the experience of two decades of an active and usually healthy sex life. There wasn't much the vixen had said no as long as it was dignified, pleasurable and consensual. The vixen was a formidable adventuress of skill and renown but when it came to sexual relationships, she considered herself a master. She would eat him alive. He wouldn't last thirty seconds.

Partners this big couldn't just be crawled into the laps of. There was some jockeying that would be required but it was a dance she knew well. Joseph still stared into her eyes with his jaw hanging open, disbelieving what might be about to happen. She said nothing and stood from the couch, slipping off his fingers and turning with a step to stand in front of him, towering over him with majesty. His eyes couldn't get bigger now and he sat back, wordless and passive. She had control of the situation at least, if she wasn't in control of herself.

Portia lifted one, thigh-high boot wrapped foot up on the couch outside his thigh. She looked down at her arms before tugging her other glove off and tossing it down beside the the first one. Reaching down then, she took a firm grip on that marvelous, standing erection and angled it gently towards her, pushing past the flaps of her skirt and she leaned her hips forward to meet him. His tapered, canine cockhead greeted her, his eager wetness meeting hers. She looked down at him over the massive shelf of her leather-restrained bosom and firmly instructed "no knotting. Understood?"

He nodded quickly. Did he even understand what that meant? He would agree to have stolen the moon from the sky if it meant closing a few more precious inches of distance between them. Whatever. She was the adult here and would just make sure he didn't.

And so she lurched forward, her eyes locked with his, drinking in the sweet delight of a boy's presumably first penetration. She moved with care and deliberation but not as careful as she could have been. She wasn't usually this eager herself. His jaw transformed from limply hanging open to a contracted "O" as his taper start to spread her open, a finger's length inside her body. Already she was spreading to the beginnings of his true girth and she exhaled in delight at the sensation.

With his cock guided into her now, she could finish her repositioning. Both of her hands came to hold his shoulders, strong but immature but there was no point in thinking about his age anymore. They were already having sex and they might as well finish and enjoy it! She pulled herself towards him, shifting her weight before she stepped her other boot up on the couch, which protested with a creak as the bulky vixen jockeyed herself into a squat over him, bashing his muzzle with the hard curve of her bosom. Little more of him pushed inside her with that motion but now she was fully over him and his gifted endowment.

No room remained between their torsos, with her pumpkin-sized breasts filling the gap between bodies and the leather top which she hadn't removed ensuring that what should be a soft mass did not surrender any of the space that they required to remain high and proud on her chest. Beneath her, he fully reclined and his head tilted back and up, trying to keep from drowning beneath the vixen's prodigious bosom. Unlike their chests, much distance remained between his lap and her pelvis, bridged by his slick, thick and shiny erection.

Portia slowly relaxed her squat, inching him deeper inside of her and drinking in the delight on his face as she did. She had always found some perverse joy in deflowering young men, though some of her more experienced lovers had suggested it was cruel. She was misaligning a young man's expectations of his future lovers, to be with someone like her, they'd say. Perhaps it was but there was an appeal to the vixen of being loved and longed for, long after she'd gone.

"Can you take off your top? It's kind of in the way and want to feel your breasts," he requested softly, almost apologetically but she shook her head.

"Sorry kid. This thing takes forever to get on and off." She loved for them to be touched and they were tender despite their size but the adoration and worship of them also got her off that was possible with the top on. Restraining that much soft flesh to the degree necessary for the vixen to be a functional adventurer, athlete and combatant was a marvel of engineering on that part of the leatherworker who'd designed and made her armor but the ease of getting it on and off was the compromise. And in this moment, she didn't need them out to seduce the boy; she was already fucking him. "Grab my ass instead."

He obliged the order with haste, digging under her skirt to find the vixen's thick, strong cheeks between broad hips. She had nearly as much pride in her ass as her breasts and some men had expressed they found it her best feature.

Portia couldn't remember the last time that the initial moment of penetration hadn't felt good. Her native canine and vulpine brothers were always a favorite as their taper was perfectly suited to an easy entry. She adored her many equine lovers but there was a bit of a shock to having to take the entire girth of a cock from the very first moment. But she wasn't halfway down before she began to feel the truth of his heat and his girth and her nerves went electric. She shivered. This was a surprise. A door in a dark room cracked open in her mind, an overpowering glow teasing brightly from behind it. His cock was teasing her at something wonderful, beckoning her closer.

More of her weight came down on it and she was surely on the full girth of it now, knowing the all-too-familiar strain of a very thick dick inside her and the perverse discomfort the vixen had grown quite addicted to over the years. But the door opened more and her body trembled, her breath shaking. There was strain but also a magnetic energy that stimulated her inner and outer nerves in a way she couldn't remember experiencing before. Joseph wasn't doing anything beneath her. This was something about his cock she had not seen or some perfect recipe of their combined bodies. It was incredible, unfamiliar and completely unexpected, beckoning her onward and inviting her to surrender control to it. She'd never been so close to orgasm to quickly and it couldn't have been for the skill of her young lover.

Portia remembered the incubus and her first time with him. It had been good but not like this and it had bore a false taint that she was sure she would recognize if she encountered again. This was good and pure, overwhelming sexual pleasure unlike any she could recall. It wasn't just the cock inside her but his flesh against her, his hands gripping her ass. His warmth, his scent, his squeaks of delight and the boyish desire on his face. He adored her. She needed more.

Portia sat down carefully still, aware of his length pushing up into the depths of her that common men could not reach. She wanted to ease that door open, dialing up that curious delight but at once, way of it. The boy below her, in his first act of assertiveness and inexperienced impatience, pulled her down into his lap, closing the gap between their bodies and audibly pushing the air inside her out between her folds and his girth.

The vixen gave a sucking gasp of shock as the boy's thick cock lanced her entirely, well up past her pelvis and into the deepest depths her body would allow. That door was thrown off its hinges and disintegrated, a tsunami of light overwhelming the vixen, the strain and discomfort of his full size entirely tertiary to the explosion of transcendent indulgence. He read clearly her sudden shift of expressions from pain to confusion as to what was even happening and he was starting to fearfully shrink from his misdead when he saw and felt her entire posture shift to electrified bliss.

She swung her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, mashing his head against the top of her chest. Her hips bucked and grinded the buried boycock inside her with a long, drawn out moan from the ecstasy that ambushed her, bellowing from her lungs and out from her muzzle that rested atop his head, between his ears. Her eyes were as wide as his had been not long before, at the prospect of sex with a woman. She had no idea why she came so soon or for so long. Was there some unique shape to him that stimulated her in ways she'd never felt or was there something about the young and extremely hung boy himself that she had made a one-time exception for? This could set a dangerous precedent for her sexual future. For now, she just wanted to prolong this moment as long as she could.

The couch creaked as the heavy vixen's woodpecker thrusts impaled herself on his every inch as fast as she could managed. She clenched him tightly against her. "You... you're crushing me!" he stammered out breathlessly. She remembered then that she had a partner and not just a tool for her own pleasure. She relaxed her arms, at least as much as she could relax anything and dragged her hands down his arms until she was holding her elbows, letting the boy catch his breath and look up at her, seeing her shift from confident dominance to caught up in the waves of her pleasure.

Joseph licked his lips and his hanging agape mouth formed a crooked smile, obviously not having anticipated such a reaction but delighted and perhaps even a bit cocky in pride to have done so.

"What the fuck are you doing to me, Joseph?" she pants and stares down his muzzle, nose bumping nose as she hammers her hips harder and slower into his, the boy only helping her with his greedy fingers groping her ass cheeks. "This isn't normal," she declares as if with some alarm but she dives in for a hungry kiss before he could answer.

He only could shrug and shrink between his shoulders before opening his mouth to receive her sloppy, hungry kiss, her tongue pushed into his muzzle while her lips smear the lustful stink of his own juices against his lips.

The wooden-framed couch, complaints unheeded , finally gives up and breaks, dropping them a half a foot closer to the ground on one side but it doesn't leave them off balance enough to have to stop, the extra force pushing out a new pitch of shriek from the fuck-frenzied vixen, breaking their kiss. She kept rocking and riding him with vigor and violence, digging the frame of the couch into the wooden planks of the floor.

Joseph rolled her ass cheeks in his palms back and forth to their extents, using them to pull her up and drop her before she was driving herself into him faster than gravity could. Now he groped her needfully, more than he ever expected to get away with. The fingertips of his left hand had been shifted over countless bumps and readjustments from the softness of her cheek to the firmness of the crack of her rear and it was almost by accident that his middle finger found the cleft of her clenched pucker. With another look over her, he quickly asserted there wasn't much going to stop her at this point and he tepidly pushed his finger against her asshole but there was nothing tepid about her motions and just holding it in place with resistance against her thrust was enough to jam his finger up her ass and twist it awkwardly.

They both shrieked, her in surprise and delight and him in pain, her violent motion jamming his finger before he tugs it out and pulls his hand away. "Shit! Im sorry! Are you okay?" she says and stops for a moment taking his wrist and inspecting his finger. It looked fine; sprained maybe but not broken. Her body was more in control than her guilt and she started again with more subtle grinding, not wanting to let the sensation go.

"Don't stop!" Joseph shook his head violently, eyes falling to the giant breasts in his face again. "Please don't stop!" She nodded quickly and began riding him again, hoping to catch up with the wave of uncommon pleasure she had been riding. "Wait!" He barked quickly, changing his mind and she stopped again, panting heavily, looking irritated at the interruption.

"Let me put it up your butt."

She drew back with some surprise, raising her brow. "That's a pretty kinky request for a kid," she pants out, heaving her chest, the smell of both of their sweat rising strongly in the room, intermingled with the abundance of sexual fluids smeared and plunged from between them.

"I want to put it up your butt," he repeats, meekly, almost pouting and trembling with need. There wasn't much the vixen wouldn't do to keep fucking at this point. She had been still long enough snap out of her lustful frenzy but she was no less aroused for it. Her head was barely clear enough to wonder, what this intriguing and unique session would feel like anally. She nodded quickly and stood slowly on the couch, semi-carefully but hastily removing herself from his slick, towering dick until it escaped with a wet, sucking sound.

The vixen wobbled, shaky legs on a crooked, broken couch before stepped off in front of the couch and down to the rug in front of the fireplace. She remembered somewhere, sometime there was potential danger and so she turned only 90 degrees away from him so she could still see the room.

She reached for her belt and a small pouch on it, sticking her finger inside. Pulling it out, her finger dripped with viscous oil down to her knuckle and she reached underneath her skirt, applying the lubricant to herself as Joseph stood up, his wet and eager cock swinging before him. She hurried down to all fours on the rug in between the broken couch and the fireplace, eager to resume and he followed right behind, lifting the flaps of her skirt and presenting her bare, broad rear.

Joseph took a moment to marvel at his good fortune and admire his view. "You're amazing. So beautiful. Your ass is so sexy," he gasps before closing the gap between them and nestling his cocktip against the tiny, tight ring that the vixen tried to relax in anticipation. "Big, birthing hips"

Portia gave a small laugh at the comment. "No kids for me. Steady nooooowwwwwwwww!!!" The vixen tried to explain a delicacy of anal sex a moment too late and the boy, now in the dominant position did exactly what she should have anticipated and jammed it right in. Her jaw fell open, trying to stay relaxed, knowing from experience that tensing up would only make it worse. And it wasn't good the almost magical way it had been when she was on top of him but it was surprisingly, much less bad than the worst she'd experienced of having things unceremoniously penetrating her anally.

He must have been halfway inside her at once but to his luck, the vixen had always had a strong disposition toward anal sex, even from her earliest, sexually active years. From her puritanical upbringing in a culture that guilted, shamed and repressed sexuality, every deviant act of sodomy was an insult to the priests who had tried to make this radiant, emancipated, sexual being into something she was definitely not. The deviance of the act alone brought her great pleasure.

But she didn't just love the concept. She loved the attention and adoration that came with her lovers' fixation on her ass. And she was not shy to admit that she loved the straining, sometimes even eroticly painful sensation of having a thick cock deep in her ass. She even suspected she might be more physically receptive to than other women she'd discussed it with, as her experience and opinion tended to be more positive than most.

Joseph may have though he'd been an opportunist to convince her to present her ass as he was clearly driving her wild but he didn't need to know that she would and had done it for any and every lover who'd declared such a preference. Sometimes she'd even encouraged those less excited about the idea to try it anyway.

"Oh my gods, it's so tight!" he gasped, staring down at her once tiny pucker now distended around his girth, glistening with juices and oil. Portia breathed quickly and deeply, like a woman in childbirth, accommodating that slick, hot girth with strain and clarity.

"Because your dick is so fucking big," she stammers out over her shoulder, lowering herself down on her forearms, hoping for a slightly more comfortable angle for the rest of the giant thing he was sure to follow with. "Go slow!" she barked. Joseph obliged, not wanting to blow his opportunity and with a drawn out moan, he eased himself deeper by the inch, looking up between her ass and her face, watching him over her shoulder. "Remember, no knot!"

He nodded quickly, as ready to agree to anything as she had been moments before. His hips and body fed her asshole his painfully rigid, juvenile cock into the shivering vixen. His hands rested on her cheeks, petting them with slow comfort. She winced and tensed up as the last of the gap between them was closed and her tightened anal ring coaxes a shudder from him as well. "Are you alright?" he reaches up and places a hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes. For the moment, she is breathless with strain but she gives a quick and shallow nod. There was a warmth with the familiar, erotic discomfort and an intoxicating sweetness to his momentary gesture. She leaned her head aside, brushing her cheek against the back of his hand.

"Go ahead, Joseph. Fuck my ass."

The boy's eyes lit up like an inferno and his hips started to awkwardly saw back and forth with his first time being in control. It didn't take any instructions though for him to figure out what felt good about sodomizing the busty vixen. His cock felt bigger inside her anally as they often did and the strain was not going away, nor did she want it to. It was the kind of aliveness she felt charging into battle, a lack of security that flooded her with adrenaline. He knew he was pushing her and watched now and then to make sure she was alright but only found hungry and encouraging eyes staring back at him, almost challenging him to dish out out more.

He found his rhythm, not frenetic and eager like hers had been been but at a walking pace, that allowed him to draw his cock far back from her then push into her again, a slow and relentless piston of flesh. He was groaning with each thrust and her as well with a delay that filled half of the gap between his. His hands wandered over her body, bare flesh and leather armor alike, admiring his lover with gratitude.

"You actually like this?!"

She gave a small laugh and nodded. "I love getting my ass fucked, especially by a big dicked stud like you." She was more coherent than she'd been when she was on top and she knew the degree to which young men loved such dirty flattery. She reached down, supporting her upper body on the one arm now while her other hand reached between the flaps of her skirt, finding her vixenhood demanding attention once again.

Encouraged further, he started thrusting harder still, slamming herself into her with conviction. "Sex was amazing but this... I think I like this even more!" he declared and rocked her again, shaking her upper body as it wobbles on one arm, the vixen eager to make herself cum once more before he does. He was lasting quite some time! How long had it even been?

He reached out for her ponytail and tugged it gently, testing for approval before giving it a harder tug with a yelp from her, arching her like the statue on the prow of a ship, high enough that her hand is pulled off the ground, so she's almost upright on her knees. With her back arched sharply, she takes her free hand and slaps it hard to one giant breast, groping the hard leather that protects them.

"You're real proud of them, aren't you?" He gives a trembling pant right into her ear and she nods quickly. "That's so hot. Anastasia always acts like she's embarrassed but you're so strong and proud. I'm so lucky!" She leans back and twists enough to kiss his muzzle for a long, hungry interruption to his rhythm. When they break, her eyes remain lustfully on Joseph's, who eagerly gives a sharp buck that nearly knocks her over. She falls forward, his grip on her pony pulling the right tie off it. She falls forward hard, catching herself on her elbow and hand, her long, golden brown hair spilling free along her back but mostly falling over her shoulders.

Panting furiously with quickening, maddened breath, Joseph hastily unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off, revealing the spotted, black marks across his young, toned, white furred chest. He was clearly trying not to tear it but needing relief from the overwhelming heat and exertion and the sound of a few stitches popped. He drew back quickly then and rammed himself into her with the force a running start. She half gasped and half screamed, furiously rubbing herself and finding herself incredibly aroused by the boy's growing assertiveness, oblivious to the rugburn on her forearm that her fur only half protected her from.

Joseph gritted his teeth and pulled back, ramming again, harder still, enough to knock her off the balance of her arm and her face fell to the wood plank floor outside the rug, her leather-wrapped breasts keeping her full weight from being born by her cheek. He grabbed the waistband of her skirt before drawing back and thrusting again with pulling her back to meet him, collapsing her kneeling to tuck her legs beneath her. With her fully pronated her rear in the air and her face half buried under her hair, he threw his weight at her with increasing force and desperation. He was close and she needed to finish soon, even if she was reluctant to end to manic eruption of lust with the most eager partner she'd had in years. She couldn't recall any lover coaxing such frenzied passion and pleasure from her and found herself surprisingly taken by the boy and bringing herself to orgasm yet again was easy with his impassioned enthusiasm.

"Hnnnghhhh!"

Joseph slammed his entire weight down on her at once, flattering her to the floor in a trembling mess, reaching for her breasts for purchase as his hips flattened throughly against her ass. She felt his inevitable, hot flood start pumping somewhere deep in her abdomen, a gush of semen belched up her intestines by his heavy, tight scrotum. Another followed, then another, threatening to cramp the sweating, heaving mass of vixen crumpled up beneath the squirming, restless boy. Her eyes were wide open as she panted deep and heavy, in shock at the entire experience.

Her voice of reason climbed out of her mental well, scalding her reckless and irresponsibility. She was no stranger to guilt as a child but had mostly overcome it with her confidence and self-satisfaction. But here, there was a massive, unconscious brute of a horse on the floor and a wizard upstairs selling children and she was downstairs, fucking one of them instead of doing her job. That was something worth regretting, she admitted in the stillness of the moment but her body wasn't yet ready to return to her, total control. Reckless or not, it was not just sex for her; it was paradigm-shifting. Hopefully he could be convinced to come with her, when all this was done.

He's just a kid!

She gave a deflated hiss, disapproving of herself though her morality found that easier to reconcile than endangering her life for her lust. The attraction has just been so intense.

"Now this... this is precious."

A new voice speaks and her alertness rushes to her. Hastily, she brushes her hair from her eyes and pushes up onto her rugburned arm, revealing a matching scrape on her cheek.

Beyond the couch, stood not only an aged raccoon but two shockingly familiar figures who Portia was certain she'd never seen in her life. All of them both staring with disbelief but only the raccoon threatened to laugh.

The most eye-catching of the three was the sister that must have been spotted from the road. A lovely vixen with brown, doe eyes and a bob of pale hair, all the fur visible of her was a stark white, even her ears, hands and feet. And as reported, she was impossibly endowed, unlike anything Portia had ever seen. Bigger even than her own mother, Beatrice Vasiljev who she had inherited her prolific bosom from. But Portia had been diluted by her father's outsider blood and was much smaller than Queen Beatrice. This teenage girl, in her purple, silk robe that may have reached the ankles of another but was mid-thigh length on her, had breasts in full defiance of gravity yet still down past her waist and double the width as her torso. It looked like it would take the full length of one of her arms again, for her hands to ever meet around them. They must have been half of her weight yet somehow she could stand. And she was but one of them.

A second vixen was there, uncannier still. With a tall bun of midnight black hair and fire in her azure eyes, she stood in a clearly tailored, red dress and was a near mirror image of Portia some twenty years before, from the charcoal socks of fur on her forearms and calves to the freckles down her cheeks, neck and down to breasts the size of her own. Only her fur was slightly different, the ivory parts of her, white instead which was not uncommon in her lineage.

Between the two of them was the origin of the voice, the white-robed raccoon of slouched posture and a delighted, suspicious grin. He was shorter than both of the girls, his banded gray and a blackish-grey from aging. His triangular face was accented at three corners by strong, grey whiskers and sharp, long goatee which he stroked as he started to speak. "It's nice to see you and your magnificent tits again, Princess Portia Vasiljev. After all these years."

Her jaw dropped and her blood froze. How did he know?

"Portia?" Joseph said with some surprise, failing entirely to read the situation. "You're Portia? I've heard of you on our travels. People said my sister..."

"Not now, Joseph," Portia snapped out of it and sternly scolded over her shoulder. She tried to stand but felt the full weight of another person tug at the inside of her still stuffed rump. He had knotted her. She froze for a long moment before deflating with a long, soft sign.

Idiot.

"Do I know you?" Portia glared and fumed. She needed to buy as much time as possible and this entire situation was only getting weirder.

"Is that..." the black-haired vixen started with malice in her tone and the fire of fury in her eyes but the raccoon swung a hand up with an audible crinkle of his robe and raised his index finger, silencing her at once. At least it appeared for a moment that he had silenced her. A moment's passing revealed that he had frozen both her and the blonde in time somehow. They were completely static, not even obviously breathing.

"Time for the grownups to speak, Evangeline," he looked back with a song in his voice before his attention returned to Portia. 'You can call me... Zarron," he declared magnanimously.

"I know what your fucking name is, Zarron," Portia hissed back. "I asked if I know you."

The raccoon smiled smugly still, wider even. "No Princess, you wouldn't remember me. I wiped your mind after we met, the night you ran away from the Snowcourt. But not before I lightened you of your great burden. The burden to carry on your incredibly potent bloodline."

"You're going to have explain that a little better."

"Your eggs, Portia. I took them." He paused and he smile melted for a moment. "Non-invasively, I assure you," he added quickly.

"You took... my eggs?" Joseph's story that she had fellated him for churned through her mind with too many gears spinning to make sense of this all immediately. He could not create life; only incubate it. Dread loomed around her as her conclusions started to form."I've never had a menstrual cycle. I'm barren."

"You don't remember having a menstrual cycle. But maybe you remember wishing as a teen to never, ever have children?" His continued familiarity with her secrets had an effect on her that she was usually better at hiding. 'I seem to recall your responsibility to breed had a lot to do with your running away. You said it with such resolve that I suspect you never changed your mind about children?"

"I did not."

"Well then, wish granted! You're barren because I made you that way, Princess. And to make sure it never came back to bother either of us, I wiped your mind of all memories of such things. I didn't want you to notice any change at all. I am a life wizard, Princess and contrary to religious superstition, that also includes domain over the mind. It was trivial to pluck away your memories compared to the marvels I've achieved. The night you ran away. Do you remember it?"

Portia thought back to it. It was a plan that had formed for months and a dream she'd had for years and he was right: she strongly rejected the idea of motherhood and it had a lot to do with her rejection of her fate. Her escape was only weeks before her eighteenth birthday. An arranged marriage was set to happen that day after which offspring would be soon expected. She had stolen herself away in the night to seek a life of freedom and adventure.

The vixen remembered preparing and packing in a way that had confirmed to herself that she had a mind for strategy that would be wasted on courtly life, at least as she'd understood it back then. She knew the shifts and patterns of the city watch so she would be able to slip through the gaps. She had prepared a month's worth of provisions, all the gear it would take to survive the Pale Lands eternal winter and gold enough to buy herself passage on a ship to the mainland. She remembered climbing over the walls on a rope made from linens. She remembered traversing the snowy forests alone in the dark. She remembered the ship. But there were gaps. The forest to the ship. What port had she caught the ship from? There were two ports near the capital city of Snowcourt. One was closer but mainly for the military. A merchant port was further but would have been much easier to sneak away with foreigners in. The one she had returned to the Pale Lands in was too far south to have been an option. Which one had she been to, to board the ship that she escaped on?! She couldn't remember being in either of the seaside cities.

She wasn't hiding her confusion well and Zarron grinned even wider. "You're a real hero these days, Portia Pridemoon. I know I should be afraid of you. But you weren't always so skilled and renown for your adventuring prowess! Not when you were seventeen years old. No. You were smart and clever, to be sure but not enough to evade the entire Kingdom's worth of scouts and trackers that your parents sent after you!" He raised his voice with a bellowing laugh. "I put you on that ship. I'm the reason you ever broke free of that life you hated so, Portia. All it ever cost you was something you never wanted anyway!"

He brushed past the other two vixens to take a deliberately slow step forward. "Eggs of such a remarkable bloodline that they could produce the strongest, cleverest, and most incredibly endowed foxes in the land. The magnificence of someone like my beautiful wife, Evangeline here," he gestured to the black-haired vixen, still magicly frozen with her children. "Your first born daughter, Princess Evangeline."

Portia's mouth was hanging agape but that's not why it was so dry. Her stomach sunk, as if it might fall against the teenage erection still just beneath it.

"Or, with a little bit of manipulation, your second daughter and my sorcerer's apprentice, Anastasia here," The raccoon gestured back to the giant-bosomed and quite-confused looking, completely static blonde before he looked back to Portia. He raised his hand to his muzzle in a mock whisper. "It was the first time I tried manipulating the fertilized egg and I made a few miscalculations," he said quite audibly before he shrugged with self-satisfied mischied and took another step forward.

"I'd have to check the log books to see just how many more of them I made after these two but there've been a lot. Boys and girls, foxes and hybrids. Vasilev blood and my alterations command prices you wouldn't believe to people who can't have children of their own. Every infertile, mixed species or same sex couple with money? I can offer them the best children money can buy.

"Whether completely natural like Evangeline or modified, list Anastasia, the Vasiljev bloodline never fails to impress. Even with a simple houseboy that I kept around just to clean the place up, like Joseph there."

Portia shivered now. The sweat that had drenched her fur was cooling now and the blood of her extremities was trying desperately to flee in terror from what he was about to say. Her stomach turned and her head contracted back into her neck, ready to gag.

"Your son, Joseph."

Portia's eyes trembled, her entire body racked with despair and disgust but her honed, adventure senses kept her from losing it entirely. She lay there, fuming as he watched intently, savoring her reaction as she gradually boiled over with outrage.

With a surprising burst of strength, she pushed up off the ground despite the weight of her own son on top of and inside her. Joseph perked to full alertness as he was moved, his arms latching around her neck and shoulders for support before things got very uncomfortable for the both of them. Zarron's smug expression quickly turns to fear that the young man doesn't have her completely immobilized.

Portia drew a dagger from a sheath stitched to the front of her armor as she stood to her feet faster than the raccoon had expected but not nearly as fast as she would have unencumbered. That's what would have let her reach him in time.

Zarron awkwardly fled back to the other two vixens and the children, stepping behind them for safety before putting a hand on each of their shoulders and blurting out a quick incantation. The group of them vanished in a burst of bluish, smokey magic, leaving Portia standing, Joseph hanging off her like a backpack and the stallion, still unconscious on the floor, missing the whole thing.

She gave a loud exhale and leaned herself against a wall, becoming more aware of the weight she was carrying. All was quiet for a moment before Zarron appeared again, now alone and standing by the front door, next to the stallion.

His nervousness was apparent enough and he bent down quickly to lay a hand of the stallion's heavy shoulder. "I need him too. Keep this kid," he blurted out before repeating the incantation. Both of them disappeared a split second before the thrown dagger sticks into the door behind where his eye had been.

Portia shakes her head and rolls back her eyes, slouching against the wall again.

"I'm... oh gods... I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't know," Joseph began to cry uncontrollably into the nape of her shoulder and she reached over her shoulder to pat whatever part of him she could reach while looking around for a place to sit that wouldn't push her son's cock any deeper inside of her.

Almost drunkenly, she staggered the both of them towards the crackling fireplace. "It's not your fault, Joseph. It was an accident," she flatly assured as the gravity of all of it threatened to crush her. She guided them carefully to lay back on the rug by the fire, carefully coordinating themselves to not shift or tug in any painful way, which together they failed at. Joseph winced and Portia apologized, the boy still crying as they finally eased down to lay on their sides. "It's not your fault, Joseph. I'm the adult here. I should have known better."

"I'm so sorry. And yet, I'm kind of happy too."

Alertly and ready to snap, she jerked her head back over her shoulder. "You're happy?!"

He shifts his arms from around her neck to drape one arm around her waist and squeeze, a reminder within the vixen's abdomen that his was still erect inside her, underneath it. She cringed, with a discomfort that was no longer just physical. Through the tears, he managed to speak. "Because I never had a mother. Zarron told us you abandoned us but Anastasia and I never believed really him."

She sighed and allowed herself to relax, laying down against the floor. After a long moment's silence, he brought his head to rest in the nape of her neck and and she closed her eyes, resisting the urge to scold him for being desirous of her affection.

Portia Pridemoon, Princess-in-self-imposed exile, brave adventuress and proudly unbeholden to any man, woman, family or destiny, was now a Mother to countless orphans, prisoners and slaves. From the age of the two girls, she had been for quite some time now. Now that brave adventuress was a mother and one who committed incest.

And the worst part about it was the best sex of her life.

Countless sons and daughters had been sold off to the kinds of people who buy children from a wizard and surely, at least some of them would need her help. She had to help them. She closed her heavy eyes, shutting down completely, hoping to wake to a different reality. Her son, Joseph, weeped softly in her ear, holding her dearly close, uncomfortably deep inside her.

* * *

Portia woke some time later, still on the floor in front of the fireplace but with a pillow under her head now. The scene was too familiar to dismiss what had just happened as a sick dream. But she was at least relieved of the weight and size of her son in and on her.

The room was silent but for the crinkle of parchment. A turned page. Then another.

"Mother! You're awake!"

She closed her eyes again and sighed. "Don't call me that, Joseph," she grumbled before opening her eyes to see the inevitable hurt on the boy, who sat on the couch with a big, open book in his lap. Thankfully, he had made himself descent with more modest clothes. "Not yet," she added softly. "I'm not ready yet."

"Ok sorry... Portia. You remember that Zarron mentioned the log book?" His enthusiasm wasn't diminished for long. She rolled over onto her side to face him and watched his smile form. "He left it here."

"What does that mean, Joseph? That you can count how many there are?' She sat up, eyeing them with intrigue.

"Even better: I have the birthday, breeding characteristics, modifications and most importantly? The name of the buyer." Portia sat there for long moment before hurrying to her feet to join him on the broken and crooked couch. He turned to her and scooped up her hand earnestly in both of his. "Mother, it means we can find them. It means we can save them." After a long moment, she reached over and eased the book in his lap to angle towards her. "He even kept track of where the buyers lived..."

"Are we going to help them, Mother?" Joseph looked up from the pages, his mouth open and eager.

"Well..." She looked up with a hint of a smile. "I don't think we have any other choice. Son."