Pairs of Pumpkins Chapter 01: Family Ties

(formerly "What Was Sown")

(Furry/adult/fantasy)

Part One

Nearly a month had passed since the vixen adventuress of some repute, Portia Pridemoon had met that road-weary, traveling merchant rat, in the Western reaches of the mainland. At a tavern room table a tale was told, so curious that it sent her back to her Northern home for the first time in nearly two decades to investigate.

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

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

The rat had leaned back and taken a long and obvious, appraising look at her figure. "No, I mean she was bigger than you. MUCH bigger!"

The sting to her ego had been impossible to hide at that, with both her age and prolific bosom insulted at once but she kept it professional enough to dig deeper. Her appearance, age and bosom were all elements suggesting that her bloodline was involved. Builds such as hers were all but impossible in the mainland and very rare in the Pale Lands, as they were the signature trait of the Vasiljev royal bloodline: The Ruling Family.

Portia was well-known as a big-hearted adventuress and do-gooder from many years of travel, adventure and heroism. She tended to leave a more lasting impression than other adventurers thanks to her memorable chest that many assumed would impair such adventurous endeavors. She delighted in proving them wrong. However, it was known to 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, for the Pale Lands was infamously pious and conservative.

"It was her and I'd guess her younger brother, riding on the back of a carriage. In the front sat a brute of a horse next to a creepy, old raccoon in robes. Once the raccoon noticed me, he stared back with the evilest eyes I ever seen! Those beady eyes stared right 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 too specific to not pique her curiosity and the hardened traveler decided it was worth investigating. Portia had to know if something happened to Augustina and the other fox could easily be her younger brother that she'd never met, Prince Mikke. And if it had been them, she had to help them.

Had they been kidnapped? That seemed the most rational explanation as she had always been told that none were more gifted than the Vasiljev clan. It was the rulers of the Pale Lands who needed to be the strongest and so it was them who must be the most tempted, the Priests of the Royal Palace had told her but those stories had sounded ridiculous in their heavy-handed morality, even as a young kit. She suspected the truth was the Vasiljevs and the Pale Lands had both been less puritanical in years past and perhaps even certain traits were bred in some, ancient history.

With the rat's descriptions and her dated but thorough knowledge of her own family's Kingdom, they drew a map together to guide her. She set out alone and with haste to investigate, venturing North to the coast. Travel alone was hard but fast, across several Kingdom's until she reached the Northeastern Port City from which nearly all trade with the arctic, fortress island of The Pale Lands would depart from. From there, she booked discreet passage back to her homeland, hiding away under the deck of a merchant ship for several days' passage. Upon arrival in the frosty port city she'd never visited before but that fit the mold for every drab city in the Queendom, she kept her presence and travel much more discreet to avoid being recognized, although she had run away from the royal seat of of Government in Snowcourt almost nineteen years ago.

Outside of town, she traveled the groomed roads and was in the snowy highlands within a few days. Past the mountains that surrounded the whole island and entering the forested main valley, the colorless Kingdom of her distant memories was familiar once again.

The map had led her to the next town, the village of Lepaja where she'd rented a room for the night and most of the day. According to the map, the fork in the road was under two hours hike from town and she would approach it under the cover of night, well-rested and like all things in her travels here, discreet.

The following evening, she had set out in the mid afternoon, an hour and a half before the early sunset would steal the sunlight with a teasing, prolonged sunset. And a short time after dark, Portia had made her way down the road after the fork, keeping to the treeline and navigating it with a skillful grace unsuited to the expectations of her proportions, which always surprised those privileged to witness it. At the end of the road, 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, winter, cloak to hide her dark brown, leather armor, pack and weapons as well as blend her in with the knee-deep snow. Outside the cloak, she wore a belt from which a single weapon hung: a long-handed mace, a wooden shaft capped with blunt iron.

The vixen carefully inspected the outer walls for magical wards and found some rather easily, knowing from experience that spellcasters often left seals of alarm, traps and other defense 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 without using magic herself. All it took was physically breaking the seal with her recently acquired medallion made of relagite; an incredibly rare and valuable 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 had introduced her to the incredibly rare material in the first place. She had hoped one day, to find enough of the metal to create a suit of armor from but for now, the relagite was a welcome defense.

After a diligent search she found and broke six broken wards and three more that seemed so old that they had expired but she broke them anyway, just to be certain. With the wards cleared, Portia climbed the outer wall with the aid of a grappling hook and dropped into the yard, followed by her cloak around her and behind her, her tail. She was still for a long moment, studying the scene and if she had disturbed it before she stood up low and approached the house. She circled the building fully, peering in the ground floor windows until she saw a flickering light from a fire. The windows of the house managed to stay clear of any built up snow and were warm to the touch.

The manor was five stories high, taller than the rope she'd brought was long. The windows were all too small for entry, even if they could have been opened from the outside and after some searching around the yard, she found no other doors but the front. One, single way in and out.

There was no more reconnaissance to be gathered and her impatience and curiosity were nagging at her to proceed. She had to trust that her experience with wizards and her relagite charm would be enough to deal with the wizard, should it come to a battle. With the horse? She would take her chances with him as the kind of opponent she could and did prepare for. Outside of her usual repertoire of tricks, she had purchased a potent knockout poison and several blow darts before leaving for the Pale Lands. She knew the merchant and trusted him well-enough when he assured her a single dose could fell the tallest and largest of animal-kin in seconds. Two doses cost her what two acres of land would and it would start to lose potency in just six weeks.

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. After a deep breath and a shiver, 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, with a wild, black mane and fire in his eyes. In his exposed, right hand was a hatchet that would've been two-handed axe for most creatures to wield but it was barely more than a toy to the eight foot tall monster of a man. The cracked door presented just enough of himself for Portia to blow a dart right into his neck. He flinched at the dart's sting, feeling around for it before his eyes caught the cloaked vixen against the snow and put together what was happening. She rushed to load another dart and ready the blowgun. If the poison didn't work, she wanted to to at least slow him down as much as possible before a real fight.

White teeth were bared and nostrils doubled in size at the end of the horse's long face before the door swung open forcefully, slamming out against the stone wall of the house. The horse took one heavy hoofstep out into the snow before he stopped, the strength draining from his face. The vixen was frozen, expectantly, ready to blow the dart then run but it was quickly clear she wouldn't need to. 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 the purchase was suddenly justified.

The horseman was still for a long moment but she kept the blowgun aimed anyway, slowly closing the distance until enough time had passed that he couldn't have been faking it. 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 looked down at the limp, thousand pound horse and the heavy door, held open by his body, exposing the house to the full brunt of winter.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, looking over the scene.

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 again. She had grown up in these wintery conditions and had since dealt with many bodies she couldn't herself lift. She could have lured him out into the snow and at least closed the door but then the horse would freeze to death before she knew if he was guilty of anything. 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 mace she wore on her 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, with a body straight and lean. 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 golden, boyish hair, which two black-capped, white ears poked out of. His eyes were dark brown and seemingly liquid, open and alert. It wasn't immediately that she noticed that he was some years shy of being a grown man but it was apparent that he would be a stunning man when of age. Normally, she did not notice this about boys and not men but this one had a magnetic presence to him, despite his obvious fear in the situation. He was around the right age to be her younger brother, who had been born after her running away. She wouldn't know his fur or markings if she saw them.

"Mikke? Is that you?" The young fox flattened his ears back in confusion and that was answer enough. "Princess Augustina: is she here?" she snapped a rapid follow up and he looked every bit as confused. It was not them.

"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 had always been told that everyone in the Pale Lands knew all the names of the royal family. This young man must have been 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 just fainted and he's too heavy for me to move. Will you help me bring him inside?" She straightened up her stance and holstered the mace, prompting the young fox to 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," he threatened and her hackles raised again. Misunderstanding or not, the traveler had 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 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 base 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 both incredibly expensive and illegal in the Pale Lands. Cleanliness are hygiene were valued but anything resembling a perfume was forbidden. Something was definitely peculiar with this place.

They both pulled with all their strength, planting their feet in the floorboards and the limp horse moved barely an inch. The young fox's added strength helped little and he was already starting 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.

"Good idea. 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 extra space for pockets, pouches and a sheathed dagger. Only a small window to her cleavage confirmed the giant breasts beneath, an alteration necessitated in the warmer, southern climates along with several, smaller vent holes to prevent excess sweating. On her back was a small pack for vital provisions and hanging on either side of it were two long-handled, fighting hatchets.

Despite the ventilation of her top and the relief of being free of her cloak, she was still starting to sweat but when she stepped back out into the snow, 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 as she found boys and men were oft to do. Her generous breasts were clamped together and held up by the hard leather top she wore but from above, there was a view down that vent window into her bottomless canyon of cleavage.

"By the Gods, you've got breasts like my sister! They're enormous! I mean, not as big as one of my sisters, Evangeline. They're almost exactly the same size! Anastasia is definitely bigger. Maybe twice as big!"

Twice as big?!

"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.

The sight of it silenced her, resetting her jealous train of thought. She stared for a long moment as it evolved before her eyes, a monster shifting beneath the cloth, a sneaking python descending down his pant leg, threatening to force one leg to straighten. He was young but getting a look at his whole body, he was lean and fit, coming into his manhood but his disproportionate masculine appendage was well past most men and into the esteemed category of her typical, over-endowed lovers. 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 him 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 said 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, the rough outline of a pointed, canine erection mimicking a second knee. 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 good sense to say when her mind didn't have a soaking, hot vagina or eyes staring down the outline of a gorgeous, huge dick. In her haste to get here, she hadn't taken a lover since setting off on this quest and her body decided now would be an ideal time to remind her. 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 on the back of the horse's thighs, face first while she landed, splayed out across him, the horse's pants-clad rear in front of her face.

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

"We did!" She planted her hands on the stallion's broad and rock hard rump, running over his cheeks a moment before she pushed herself back to her feet. She closed the door then but inside, it had no effect on the noise or the temperature of the room. "Magic," she muttered under her breath, disapprovingly before she turned 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. It had straightened out his leg now, it's end just past his knee.

"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 and 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 and 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."

She raised her hands, palms out and open. "I just want to to know what's going on here. Make sure that everyone is happy, safe and free. Make sure 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 the, resisting the unprofessional urge to stop him. It would be easier to get to the bottom of whatever oddness was going on here if she couldn't be 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 mace behind at the front door.

Draping her arm over the back of the couch casually, the vixen looked back as he walked over, the boy apprehensive before he sat down on the far end of the couch from her, glancing back at her chest. She scooted closer until her knee touched his, her hanging 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, looking towards the fire, keeping his hands in his lap, bunching up his robe, one leg bent and the other straight.

Portia froze for a moment. "No parents? You 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 start to slip the relegite medallion from around her neck. The nervous boy glanced over as the dark, metal disc 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? Go ahead and take it out," she said 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 sternum before coming to rest, mostly upright. A deflating sigh of relief hissed from the boy's lungs.

Revealed into the open air was his 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, especially for his age. A size that 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 her bloodline naked as an adult but she knew her own brothers were known to be 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 to the younger brothers and sisters 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! A small shake of her head broadcast the conflict but he had said something important. "You have other brothers and sisters?"

The eyes of the young fox widened and shrunk back, his guilt as obvious as her conflict. He started to stand 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, her fingers barely past halfway around it. Joseph froze.

"Trust me, 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 said, folding his arms in a pout.

"And 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.

Joseph 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. Young, eager eyes darted 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 it off. Yellowish, ivory fur ended at her elbows and the removed glove exposed her charcoal black furred, natural socks extending all the way to her digits. The older vixen looked on with a satisfied smile while he stared at her arm as he reveals it, clearly his first time undressing a woman.

The glove was set 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 now. Others used to but they went to live with other people. 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 his magic, potent," he says, panting as he watches her slowly stroking him, up and down that impressive length.

The vixen looked concerned at that explanation. "A wizard that 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 muzzle. His tail flicked excitedly, bunched up beside him over the arm of the couch. "I'll tell you everything... if you put your mouth on it."

Portia 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 his thigh and her hand guiding his cock up along them. Opening her mouth, she painted his tapered cockhead in hot breath. "I'm going to stop if you don't talk," she warned before lowering her head at a painfully slow, teasing pace.

Experienced tongue met virginal cock, 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. Joseph 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. The strong, pungent scent of his cock 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, the vixen well past twice his age. She had some young lovers but this was a new record. This was not going to be remembered as one of her finer moments but Joseph continued to spill quite the story.

"Zarron doesn't need to grow them where is natural though; he doesn't need surrogate mothers. He makes magic eggs, like lizards and snakes. 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 hesitantly for the back of her head before pulling her back to his cock.

Joseph 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 the younger brothers are big as well. I don't know about my other sisters except Evangeline since most are gone before they develop. Evangeline 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. He can make small alterations to the egg for certain, desirable or specific traits."

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. A story like this was unlike any she had heard and there were definitely some things here that needed investigating. A wizard selling designer children was quite a discovery. And she would investigate. After.

The fragrant, delicious cock was a drug though. A small, quiet warning in the back of her mind triggered. Not her conscience about sucking the cock of a teenager 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 was not 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 what a magnificent cock.

Portia pulled off her muzzle 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 didn't make her any less horny but maybe she could make him pop before she had the chance to use him like she wanted to.

Nose to nose practically, he shook his head with fearful eyes, not seeming to know what she meant but there she was, so close and him so emboldened that he leaned in to kiss her. It was wet and inexperienced as she expected 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 could do to grope those armored breasts that dwarfed his hands.

Her bare hand kept 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. "Sometimes 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! Deeper and harder.

Joseph has been running his hand up along her strong, thick thigh then creeping under her skirt. She watched his face 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. Young fingers over them, marveling at the sensation but exploring with a purpose. 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. As was hers, he discovered.

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

Portia gave a small nod. The voice of reason shouted from down a deep well, somewhere in the back of her mind. 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 was not the danger here, she reminded herself. "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 would 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 made sure to 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 at most.

She assured herself he was probably older than what he'd said. Why would a wizard be concerned with his houseboy's birthday? He certainly looked a bit older. At least, in some light. Still, he was young and she carried the experience of two decades of an active and usually healthy sex life. There was little the vixen had said no to as long as it was dignified, pleasurable and consensual. She was a formidable adventuress of skill and renown but when it came to sexual relationships, she considered herself a master. He wouldn't last thirty seconds.

I'm going to eat this kid alive.

Partners this lengthy 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. Silently, she stood from the couch, slipping off his fingers and turning with a step to stand in front of him, towering over him with majesty. Young eyes couldn't get bigger now and he sat back, wordless and passive. She had control of the situation at least, if she had no 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. The vixen moved with care and deliberation but not as careful as she could have been as 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 kept on, 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 younger men, though some of her more experienced lovers had suggested it was cruel to 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 had 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 put back on." 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 and 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 had 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." With haste Joseph obliged, digging under her skirt to find the vixen's thick, strong cheeks between broad hips. Her glutes were thick and sculpted from walking , running and climbing every day of the last two decades.

Portia couldn't remember the last time that the initial moment of penetration had felt so good. Her native canine and vulpines were always a favorite as their taper was perfectly suited to an easy entry. Adored were 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. Halfway down his length, 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 was mostly passive beneath her for now. 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, bearing a false taint that she was sure she would recognize if she encountered again. This was good and pure, overwhelming sexual pleasure and joy unlike any she could recall. It was the cock inside her but also his closeness, his hands gripping her ass. The warmth of his body, his scent, his squeaks of delight and the boyish desire on his face. He adored her like no one had before. 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.

The vixen 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. Eyes were as giant as his had been not long before, at the prospect of sex with a woman. It was a mystery 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 and she clenched him tightly against her. "You... you're crushing me!" he stammered out breathlessly. It was a needed reminder that she had a partner and not just a tool for her own pleasure. She relaxed her grip, at least as much as she could relax anything and dragged her hands down his arms until she was holding his 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 open 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.

The young fox 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 that nothing was going to stop her at this point and he tepidly pushed his finger against her asshole. 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 alright?" she says and stops for a moment taking his wrist and holding it up to her muzzle, inspecting the 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 said quickly, changing his mind and she stopped again, panting heavily, looking irritated at the interruption.

"I want to stick it up your butt."

The panting vixen 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, meek but firm, almost pouting and trembling with need. There wasn't much the vixen wouldn't say no to to keep fucking at this point. Portia had sat still long enough snap out of her lustful frenzy but she was no less aroused for it. Thoughts in her head were 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, standing on shaky legs on the crooked, broken couch before she stepped off in front of the couch, 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, conveniently-hung 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, her tail lifted high and proud. Behind her, he followed, lifting the flaps of her skirt and presenting her bare, broad rear. Hanging on hooks off her backpack, her twin hatchets half-dropped along her sides.

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 vaginally but it was surprisingly, quite nice in her experience of having things unceremoniously penetrating her anally.

Joseph 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 a deliberate affront 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. Anal sex was pure defiance of her oppressive upbringing.

But she didn't just love the concept of anal sex. 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 penetrating her anal ring and sunk into her rectum. She even suspected she might be more physically receptive to than other women she discussed sex with, as her experience and opinion tended to be more positive than most. She had been at least as many men's first anal experience as she had been their first sexual experience.

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 had 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. Young hips and a fit, young body fed her asshole his painfully rigid, juvenile cock into the shivering vixen. His hands rested on her cheeks, petting them with slow comfort. Wincing, Portia 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. In that moment, she was 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. The sensation was the same kind of aliveness she felt charging into battle, a lack of security that flooded her with adrenaline. The young fox 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?!"

Portia gave a small laugh and nodded. "I love a good buttfucking, especially by a big dicked stud like you." She was more coherent than when she was on top and she knew the degree to which young men loved such dirty flattery. The dirty talk only made the act more controversial and thus, appealing to her rebellious streak. 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 groaned 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?

"Butt sex is still sex, Joseph," she corrected.

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, her tail curled up and guided over his shoulder. 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 your giant boobs, 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 ponytail pulling the tie right 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. One hatchet falls free of it's hook, dropping with a thud on the hardwood floor.

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. The other hatchet fell off it's hook from her backpack but he caught it before it fell, tossing it over on the couch.

Young, eager fingers dug into the waistband of her skirt before drawing back and thrusting again with pulling her back to meet him, collapsing her to her knees 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. Anal sex with him was better than vaginal sex with many of the lovers she'd had.

"Hnnnghhhh!"

Joseph slammed his entire weight down on her at once, flattering her to the floor in a trembling mess, reaching to 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 generous 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. This was different than typical sex. There was something about him that had made her lose sense and control.

---

Part Two

Portia's voice of reason climbed out of her mental well, scalding her recklessness 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 wouldn't yet return total control to her. Reckless or not, it was not just sex for her but paradigm-shifting. Her every nerve was alight and her blood raced with unparalleled excitement. 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 the act of endangering her own life for her lust. The attraction had just been so intense.

"Now this... this is precious."

A new voice spoke out in the room and her alertness rushed to her. Hastily, she brushes her hair from her eyes and pushes up on 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 had never seen in her life. All three of them stared 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. Nearer in size to her own mother, the Queen 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 forearms again, for her hands to ever meet around them. They must have been nearly 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 them was the origin of the voice, the white-robed raccoon of slouched posture and a delighted, suspicious grin. Far shorter than the two girls, his banded gray and a black was grey and darker 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. "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, corked internally with a ball of flesh at least as big as a grapefruit. He had knotted her, just as she should have expected. 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 dragged his fingers over her eyes.

"Sleep," he commanded and her body obeyed, falling limp to be caught and held up by him, the raccoon clearly struggling with her weight. "Help?" he turned to the blonde and she rushed over to help, easing the other vixen to the ground unharmed. Down low, the raccoon reached down over her eyes and repeated to the second vixen: "sleep." Already seated, she fell forward into the bosom of her unconscious, less-absurdly busty counterpart.

"There," he said, righting himself over the two unconscious vixens. "Time for the grownups to speak," 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 don't menstruate. I'm barren and I've always been."

"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 the next batch of Kings and Queens 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, a desire 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 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 just 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 failed to hide her confusion 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. 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!" the raccoon raised his voice with a bellowing laugh. "I hid you here. 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!"

The raccoon stepped over the sleeping vixens, closing in on Portia and Joseph. "Eggs of such a remarkable bloodline that they could produce the strongest, most clever 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, asleep on the ground. "Your first born daughter, Princess Evangeline."

Portia's mouth was hanging agape but that was 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 motioned back to the crumpled up, giant-bosomed blonde resting atop Evangeline, 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. She's not even the biggest, if you believe that," he said quite audibly before he shrugged with self-satisfied mischief and took another step forward.

"I'd have to check the ledger to see just how many more of them I made after these two but there've been a lot. Boys and girls, twins and triplets, 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, like Anastasia, your 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. Her tail tried to tuck between her legs but was pinned against her back.

"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 didn'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 would have let her reach him in time.

Fleeing back to the pile of unconscious vixen sisters, the old raccoon demonstrating both a lack of dexterity and courage. He crouched stepped behind them for safety before putting a hand on each of their backs and blurting out a quick incantation. The trio of them vanished in a burst of bluish, smokey magic, leaving Portia standing with Joseph hanging off her like a backpack. The stallion, still unconscious on the floor, missing the whole thing. A loud exhale burst from her lungs and leaned herself against a wall, becoming more aware of the weight she was carrying.

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, guilty of incest with a boy. Her boy.

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

Her stomach churned, preparing to vomit and guilt hit her like crashing waves but she tried to hang on to reason. 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. That momentary light of hope wasn't enough to burn in the darkness and sickness of her guilt. Heavy eyelids closed, the vixen 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.

An electricity surged through the room and a wave of hot air, alerting her again. She opened her eyes to see Zarron once again, standing by the front door, next to the stallion. All of the sickness and self-loathing was purged by the rush of adrenaline. She had another chance!

His nervousness was apparent enough and he bent down quickly to lay a hand of the stallion's heavy shoulder. "I need him too. I'll be back for the boy," he blurted out before repeating the incantation. Both of them disappeared a split second before the thrown dagger hits the wall just behind where his head had been, knocking against the wall before dropping.

"How is he doing that?!" Portia looked back over her shoulder and Joseph draped an arm over her shoulder to point to the ceiling, where a ward had been carved into it just above where he had appeared. She had completely missed it.

"He has a few of them around the house that let him easily teleport back here from anywhere," he explained. "I know where all of them are."

"Hold on to me," she ordered and he obliged, swinging his arms around her neck before she staggered towards a nearby dinner table and grabbed a chain, dragging it over to the ward, feeling his girthy length stir her intestines with every motion. She lifted a leg on the chair then leaned forward over it and stepped up, lifting the both of them to stand on the chair, wincing as she felt his weight tugging at the knot inside her.

She reached down for her medallion again and with it, she quickly broke the ward, cutting into the wood and breaking its outer circle, with a magical crackle and puff of smoke, leaving it open and inert. "Where are the others?"

"Upstairs!" He pointed to the staircase. "Hurry, he's going to come back for me! Don't let him take me, Mother!"

"Don't call me that!"

Portia jumped down from the chair and grunted, feeling his weight again, that fist-like knot tugging against the inside of her asshole. She took his arms and adjusted them from around her neck to under her arms, bringing his hands together at the top of her cleavage and buckling them together. "Joseph! Hold on to me!"

Crouching low for a moment to spring forward, she ran for the stairs and up them, each step pushing him further up inside her before each landing tugs him back down in weighted, mini thrusts. She gritted her teeth and powered through as Joseph buried his muzzle in her back, trying not to make any noises.

"I'm sorry, about all of this," Joseph said quietly, moving to rest his muzzle on her shoulder, her tail pinned over to the other side, between them. "I swear, I had no idea."

"It's not your fault, Joseph. It was an accident. Just point out the way." At the landing of the first staircase she stopped and steadied herself against the wall, panting from the exertion of his weight and more. "How much further?"

"Four more flights!" he said and she deflated with irritation. "The bedroom is on the fifth floor but his study is on the fourth. Zarron has a seal there too."

The vixen was already starting to sweat from the extra weight on her back but also the closeness and intimacy of another body along her and inside her, despite any revelations of their relationship. But they were both in imminent danger, as long as Zarron could reappear at will and she had self control enough to preserve her life. Running up the next flight, she felt her son's entire weight behind the hugely knotted, fox cock sealed inside her, shifting about inside her. She stopped at the next landing, breathing heavily before launching herself up the third flight, with the heavy steps of mounting exhaustion and instinctive excitement.

Joseph's erection had never fully subsided but it hadn't been this hard since he'd ejaculated. It had thickened and straightened out, reminding her just how big and deep he was inside her. She looked down at his folded hands, hanging fingers dragging through the fur of her cleavage.

"I'm actually kind of happy too."

She jerked her head back over her shoulder. "You're happy?!"

"Because I never had a mother. Zarron told us you abandoned us but Anastasia and I never believed really him."

"Well congratulations, Joseph. You met your mom and now your dick is shoved up her ass," she grumbled.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I guess we're not supposed to do that?"

"Don't be sorry. I'm the adult here. I should have known better. But no, sons aren't supposed to fuck their mothers and mothers aren't supposed to fuck their sons."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, Joseph. Society has a lot of stupid rules but that 'not fucking your kids' always seemed like a good one to me."

"I bet all your sons are going to want to fuck you."

All your sons. It sent a chill down her spine. Focus, Portia.

At the top of the third flight, she took a moment to rest and leaned back against a wall, pushing Joseph more firmly against her and inside her, a gasp escaping from both of them at once. Three flights of shallow, bobbing sodomy from her own son and her body was ready for a second round, flushing with heat and wetness, agnostic to what stimulated her.

She half fell against a wall opposite the stairwell, catching her on her arm while Joseph pulled himself against her more tightly to relieve his knot of his weight. "The study is that door at the end of the hall," he pointed over her shoulder and she nodded quickly, trying to catch her breath

"He mentioned a log book. All of my children. Where?"

"It's in there too."

Portia nodded and scooped up Joseph's thighs before she surged forward again. Closing in on the door, she saw it was marked with another ward, likely of some kind of protection. She readied the relagite medallion and it was in hand before she crashed into the door. Violently , she scratched it off until it died in another crackle of smoke. Satisfied, she replaced the medallion around her neck then grabbed the handle of the door. With a sharp tug, she swung it open then and burst into the room.

Zarron's study was cleaner than she'd expected, with no thick layers of dust on the towering bookshelves that lined half the room's walls or the shelves of jars, potions, spell components and other curios, both common and macabre that line the other half. There were several workbenches, one clean, one for seemingly for potions and a third with small tools scattered about it. There was also a desk and stool as well as comfortable looking chair and a sofa.

"There it is, mother," Joseph points over her shoulder to the far end of the room. She rushed in, looking around. Once clear of the workbenches, a large seal became visible in a corner of the room with plenty of open space around it. She ran right to it then dropped to her knees. Hurriedly, she removed her necklace and carved a gap in in the circle of the seal. It fizzled in satisfying, blue smoke as it died and she took a moment to catch her breath, hunched over it.

"Are they in here? My eggs and any of the children?" she huffed with exhausting, looking over her shoulder at Joseph, who shook his head.

"He has a facility somewhere on the mainland where he actually does the breeding but I don't know how to find it. We only teleported there. I know it's somewhere much warmer than here though."

She curses and nods. "Where's the log book?"

"Stand up and I'll guide you."

She obliged after a moment, carefully standing for both of them, Joseph pushing his feet off the ground to help. He guided her to the bookshelf and in it, to a thick, handbound tome: The Breeding Record of Portia Vasiljev it said casualling, letters embossed into the leather. She reached in and tugged it out then carried it over to the desk. Leaning on it, still pan she opens the book then paused and looked back. "Joseph, I think I need to sit down for this."

He nodded and she reached back to hold his thighs, carefully lowering his rump to the stool then bringing her weight down onto him and it, the wood creaking along with their combined groans as Joseph's cock pushed deeper inside her, all of her weight on him now.

"Gods, you've got a big dick," she burst out after holding her breath a moment.

"Sorry, mother," he said with meekness.

"Don't be sorry. It's my fault, apparently." She steadied herself by adjusting her legs, wide around the seat then turned to the first, written page. The first entry was dated, eighteen years ago: Evangeline. The dark haired daughter she met below. It listed her sex and a brief description of the father , described as "donor 1: arctic fox." Intention was the next column, which was filled out simply "test." Lastly, it listed her birthday, appearing to have been added in a different session.

Anastasia was next, with a birthday few months later. She had the same father, an intention listed as "magnificent breasts" but a new entry for alterations, under which was listed "Enhanced bosom, enhanced intelligence?"

The next entry was longer: Sanna was her name. Her birthday was a few months after Evangeline's and under father the donor was listed as "Zarron."

"Some of my children are hybrids of other species? I didn't think that was possible."

"Yes, it is with magic! That's what I was talking about: specific qualities, sometimes from other species. All are fox-like but some have horse manes, antlers or cat claws. His magic is very potent."

She shook her head slowly then kept reading. Under donor was a new entry: Intention and Buyer. Under buyer was the name Lord Truxton, a famously wealthy but long deceased, raccoon and builder of warships in the western reaches of the kingdom. Intention was more verbose here: daughter and heir. Intelligent, clever, athletic, attractive.

After Sanna's birthday was another new entry: Price. Lord Truxton had paid for Sanna what would a King would likely pay for a fully equipped warship. It was a staggering sum to consider. Seeing her birthday and remembering what she heard of him, he must have died not long after but the ledger noted nothing of it.

Another hybrid was next on the list: Anya who was listed as having two donors. One was the same arctic fox as Evangeline and Anastasia and the other, a bear named Wilhelm Wozak, who was also listed as the buyer. This name was also familiar; an adventurer she had heard of in local circles, many years before when she was younger. The price was the same as Sanna's. Both we marked up from a base price, with hybrid listed as the 100% surcharge,

She skipped to the next page, then the next, each full of more daughters and sons. By page three, she was past all those that were now eighteen. It was a much longer stretch of seventeen year olds: ten months after some selective tests, Zarron had seemingly entered full production.

Most were foxes but there were some hybrids, seemingly for purposes of parentage or obvious, desirable traits, such as a cheetah for enhanced speed or a wolverine for their resilience. Many of the boys had been bred with wolves, especially if they were intended for martial use, like bodyguards and warriors. Occasionally there were more exotic combinations like minks and horses, either for intended physical labor, strength or just finery of coat. Some had up to three fathers listed when the intention was to maximize certain qualities.

Many alterations also started to appear by the birthdays that put them at sixteen: enhanced strength, fast healing, slowed aging, extreme fertility and other enhanced sexual traits. Buyers were often also the donors and she recognized quite a few of the names as some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the kingdom.

Some pages in, a peculiarity jumped out at her: a gender of Female crossed out, with Shemale written in beside it in much newer ink. It was that way for two in a row, named Tatiana and Titania, both with the same birthday. No buyer was listed but under father she recognized the name: "Donor: Bjorn Vasiljev (stolen sample.)"

One of her younger brothers, third in succession after her and the eldest of her brothers, Alexi.

She shrunk slightly, fighting the urge to vomit again. She scanned further but the next entry was back to common genders and anonymous donors.

Portia stopped and braced her hands against the table, gagging while Joseph tried to stay still, under her weight. "I have children... with my own brother. That sick fuck." She reached out with a shaky hand to flip a chunk of pages, then another, finding each one filled. "My Gods, there's hundreds of them. I have hundreds of children. I have to save them."

"Mother, we still have one more seal to go. Zarron might be back already!"

With resolve, the vixen nodded and slammed the book closed then tucked it under her arm securely. She had caught her breath by now and turned them back toward the door before dashing heavily back out into the hallway and toward the next flight of stairs, up toward the bedroom. Joseph held on tight, bobbing inside her, thankfully half soft again.

"There's the bedroom!" Joseph pointed and Portia nodded, patting herself down. One mace, two hatchets and one dagger were all downstairs now and she ducked down to fetch a stiletto from her boot. With a flourish, she readied the tertiary weapon and charged the door, gnashing her teeth. Nearing it, she jumped and kicked the door wide open with the weight of both of them behind it. Directly across from them, Zarron sat on the bed, waiting with intense eyes and the crooked smile of an ambush.

"Sleep!" he said, throwing an arm out toward her with a crinkle of his sleeve and no other effect. Her relagite charm warmed in between her breasts, confirming to her a job well done.

"Die!" Portia growled. She charged and drew back the blade over her shoulder, closing the distance between the doorway and the bed. Zarron quickly scrambled back onto the bed, raising a hand to snap just as she leapt at him. In a puff of bluish smoke, he was gone again that they landed hard on the mattress, their bodies and the bouncing bed dissipating any lingering smoke into nothingness.

"The seal is right above us!" Joseph twisted to point to the ceiling behind her back, tugging his knot against her insides once again. She winced then clamored to her feet for the both of them, standing unsteadily on the soft mattress and reaching for the seal, hidden behind the semi-opaque canopy of the bed, just over a foot outside her reach.

"Hold on tight, Joseph!" she ordered and squated low before jumping up, reaching the sheer cloth and tearing it down. She bounced again, tossing the curtain aside and building momentum off the mattress, Joseph's invading cock not letting her forget it's stiff presence in her bowels.

She bounced again, building inertia as she loosened the relagite charm from her neck and lifted it over her head. The seal was nicked the seal on the fifth jump, with her barely able to reach it. The marvel of engineering that was her leather top demonstrating it's crafter's skill here, holding the mass of her heavy breasts perfectly in place.

With a few more jumps, any forgiving softness to Joseph's invading cock was gone again. The motions were guiding every sliver of travel he had within her to move with the weight of both of them and the poking at the bottom of her stomach had her tasting bile.

She nicked it several more times over the next ten jumps and she could feel Joseph's cock throbbing inside her with eager hardness while he clutched on to her desperately, holding his breath. Each jump was impaling herself on it again.

It took at least twenty more bounces on the bed to completely break it, the seal confirming its demise with a sizzle and the exhausted vixen stopped bouncing, drenched in sweat, swaying on tired, burning legs. Joseph was breathless, wide-eyed and hunched against her. He was painfully hard, like the column of a temple, slightly curved to ensure her lower back wouldn't be bending anytime soon. "Are you sure you broke it, Mother? Maybe just make sure?" Portia didn't even acknowledge the request and collapsed to the bed, face down, panting hard and sweating once again.

"Gods be damned, I hate wizards." Portia panted out over labored breath.

"At least we got the book, Mother and maybe I can help find Zarron. Are we going to rescue them?"

"Yes Joseph. I don't think I have any other choice."

"That's wonderful. I want to help however I can."

Joseph looked over to the bedside, spotting the both of them in a vanity mirror. He shifted his hips just slightly, moving his massive length deep inside her, to a small, surprised groan. "What are you doing?" she said, looking back warily over her shoulder.

"All that running and jumping was like we were still having sex. Can I just... finish again? I'm so close."

She looked over to the mirror at the both of them and sighed heavily. His knot would last a lot longer if he was about to cum. The damage was already done. The pit of guilt in her stomach was being poked from below. "Fine. This is the last time this is ever going to happen, so make the most of it."

"Really Mother?"

"Just don't call me mother, please. At least not until you pull your cock out of my ass."

Joseph didn't hesitate into action. He threw his arms around her chest, finding the laces of her top them tugging them free, loosening the whole breastplate. He scooped his fingers under it them pulled it roughly up, pushing up her arms. It slid with ease for all the sweat trapped beneath it.

"Joseph!? What are you doing?!"

"If this is the last time then I need to see them!" he said before tugging it free of her entirely, forcing her to momentarily release the book for her arms to be pinned together over her head. The young fox cast it carelessly aside, staring at them in the mirror. Massive, white breasts pouring out of their hard leather prison, flopping out on the bed, quickly settling for their tremendous weight. His hands darted down to her skirt then, unbuckling it and tossing it aside, leaving her naked but for her boots. She reached out for the book then, tugging it back and clutching it against her.

The eager cock of the young fox surged with newfound life, harder than ever before and he doubled over her, reaching down and around to grope her breasts with awe, fingers and palms disappearing into the expanse of breast flesh. "Mother, you're incredible! You're so beautiful and your breasts are so amazing and big. They must shake so much!" They tremored beneath her in echo to his deliberate attempts to test his assumption with his hips. A curious hand reached down and around her, feeling for her sex with curious fingers and finding heat and wetness. "That means you're horny too, doesn't it?" He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing his fingers into her vagina loudly, two thick fingers against her clitoris before curling up inside her, coaxing forth a deep gasp and an arch of her spine. "Cum with me, mother. Might as well make the best of this for both of us."

His finger were more skilled than they had any right to be and she surged with arousal as the teen found pleasure centers she didn't know she had. Her eyes were locked to their joining in the mirror, finding more fire than shame in their joining. Her jaw fell agape and she sucked in a deep breath. "This is the most fucked up thing I've ever done."

Joseph couldn't quite thrust more than an inch or so with his knot inflated inside her but it didn't stop him from trying. He grinded his hips to her extremes, stirring his thick length inside her, a thick tree trunk of flesh, invading the softness of her insides to seeking friction. His palm ground against her clitoris while two fingers curled inside her, his hand nearly vibrating with youthful vigor. His motions unsealed himself from her just enough that the semen from his last orgasm was consistently oozing out of her, down the crack of her bottom, over her sex and down her inner thighs. His other hand was just as eager to be lifting and groping her heavy breast, unable to reach far enough around it to find the other. "Your pussy is so wet, mother! I want to fuck it again!"

Portia watched herself in the mirror, her body writhing and grinding back against him, the guilt and shame of what she had accidentally done and the weight of familial revelation falling behind her primal desires. Some kind of mother you are , her conscience managed to criticize her as her eyes appraised the handsome boy again. He was no less attractive for the discovery of their relation and that electricity and connection she felt from the moment she first sat on his cock was still very present. He looked very much the part of her son, know that she knew, almost her spitting image with the distinct down pepper marks down his cheeks, neck and chest. Everyone would know they were related. No one could know this had happened.

She watched his eyes drink in her body in the mirror with a youthful excitement. "I'm so close, mother! I don't want this to ever end! ButI'm going to cum!" He became more erratic behind her, breath shaking. Moaning in shameful delight, she rocked back against him, feeling her body surge with an impending climax.

Suddenly he scrambled forward, toward the mirror, pushing them both over the edge of the bed. He planted a foot on the floor as they started to fall and he pulled her upright, maneuvering so he landed, seated on the floor and her entire weight fell down onto him, a sharp cry escaping her muzzle at the sudden deeper lancing of her insides. Seated on the floor now, he swung his legs up and around, between her thighs before pulling them apart, exposing her full, unabashed sex, a mess of wet fur surrounding it. She hadn't released the book.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she arched her back, lifting her chest high and proud, regal in their final moments of incest. His fingers and hand resumed, grinding firmly into her. Underneath it, his tight, cum-laded sack was nestled against her ass, ready to burst.

He tensed behind her. "I'm cumming, mother! I'm cumming again!" The surge of semen in the tightness of her insides didn't require announcement, a rolling heat blasting up into the curves of her intestines. Her own roaring orgasm was but a moment behind, his attention and adoration irresistible. She rolled back her head but not far enough that she couldn't see herself in the mirror. Transfixed and disgusted by her reflection, she watched her jaw fall open to cry out in delight, the crinkle of her brows and look of excitement and disgust at her newfound level of deviancy.

Joseph's hands fell to her hips, grinding her down and around into him, stirring himself inside her as his orgasm trailed off, his sack visibly smaller from unloading so much inside her. Her abdomen was hard and warm, her intestinal track packed full of two of his virginal loads.

"You're a little fucking pervert, just like your mother," she panted heavily. The panting teen gave a huff of a laugh before leaning his head over her shoulder, nose seeking nose. She turned to look at him, her fur soaking with sweat and her body panting with vigor. "That can never happen again. And you can never tell anyone this happened. Do you understand?"

The young fox gave a small nod. "Never again," before he closed the distance between muzzles, meeting her mouth in a long, slow and tender kiss. Joseph's hand took a grip on her breasts while his tongue pushed out into her waiting mouth, coming to dance with her own. Portia cracked her eyes to look at them in the mirror, tied together and a mess of sexual energy, the book listing her legions of children tugged tight along her side, pushing up a breast. His adoration was pure and sweet and she melted back into him. Eventually the kiss broke, leaving them looking into each others eyes.

Portia raised a hand to rest on his cheek before she softly but sternly repeated.

"Never again."

THE END