By Any Means 2

Story by TikTikKobold on SoFurry

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Resigned to his fate as being alone forever, Myster takes his sister's Mysma's cruel joke all-too-seriously and succumbs to being her sex slave.

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Posted using PostyBirb


As lightning flashes and thunder roars in the old estate, Mysma stares down at the groveling creature sitting beneath her, her shoulders rolling. She finally straddles him, standing in front of his face. Wrenching him by the hair, she pulls him in close. “Let’s go again, shall we, you disgusting, sister-fucking freak!?”

Myster puckers his lips, ready to take that cock, prepared to be accepted by someone-anyone. It isn’t to be, as when his head is thrown forward, Mysma isn’t aiming well, and instead of his mouth, that cock pokes him straight in the eye.

Myster wails, grabbing his face and falling as Mysma drops him into a wallowing heap.

“What a pathetic dick-sucking disgrace,” she says, unbuttoning her vest, one button at a time, looking away from the cowering, groveling fool on the ground. “To think we shared the same womb—what a terrible cursed existence it is, even for one as graced by glory as I.” She sighs, removing her vest and her top, her smallish but perky breasts freed.

She stands over him, hands on her hips, sniffing. “The fuck are you sitting around for. Undress, or I’ll be forced to rip those clown clothes off of you!”

Myster pulls his hand free from his face, one eye swollen from the strike, the other staring wide. He scrambles and undoes his fineries. All the while, Mysma walks around him, her boots thumping along her floor. “For the gods’ sakes, at least take off your pants!”

Blubbering, Myster undoes his belt and pulls his pants down. Mysma places a boot on his head and pushes him down, knocking him to the floor.

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t pick your head up,” she says, hands on her hips. She slides her boot off the back of his head, leaving some particles of dried mud on his hair.

When Mysma gets behind him, she swiftly slaps Mysmer’s hide. “Spread them!”

His long chaosborn tail rises up, and his hands reach behind him, spreading his ass before the one and only person who would give him attention.

“And there we have it. Not a single beg. Not an utterance of protest. You just do every last thing I say without respect for your self-worth!”

Myster squeezes his eyes shut, his hips high, his tail trembling, his teeth chattering.

“Still no response, eh?” she says, slapping that cock between his cheeks. “Perhaps then, you are no good to me but as a cock sleeve.”

She aims it with one hand, the other digging tightly into his ass flesh. She grunts, pushing it inside, spreading him out, and burrowing deep into that warm, unprepared hole.

“Uuugh…guhn…”

“Oh, shut it, you fucking worm…” she growls, forcing her eyes closed, clenching her teeth. She rocks her hips, burrowing in, slipping inch-by-inch into Myster’s awaiting but unprepared hole.

“Grauh….”

“I said, SHUT UP!”

Mysma leans over Myster’s body, her naked flesh rubbing against his clothes. Her breath is ragged as her hips roll into him, spreading him out, making him groan and growl and whine.

Her response is swift. Her hand, now freed from guiding her cock, reaches around Myster’s much more massive form and finds his own mast hanging down beneath him.

With a snarl, she grips that thing hard and hisses into his ear. “You’re fucking serious? Rock hard and at full mast with your fucking twin in your ass?”

Now firmly rooted within Myster, Mysma rocks against him, slapping her body against his own in a dedicated motion. “Is it, ngh… because you… crave attention…? Or…”

Her hand wrenches against his cock, twisting it as she bottoms out into him. His wails rush up through the hall, echoing in a tortured scream.

She lets him calm down, loosening the grip only enough for those screams to become nothing more than a constant whimper.

“Or…” she picks up her conversation again, her lips right by her ear. “Is it because you like cock so much because you’re nothing more than a massive f…”

The last word that graces his ears makes him collapse and whine and cry, covering his face and pitifully sobbing.

“I’m not… I’m not… please! I’ll do anything. Just love me!”

She sits back up, slapping his ass again. “Oh, I’m going to love this ass!” she snarls, her teeth clenched tight, looking almost like a bear trap with the intensity of her hate. She picks back up her relentless fucking of him, climbing up so one leg is over his back and the other plants her boot firmly on the ground.

She’s a relentless machine, huffing and growling on top of him, the sounds of her excursions drifting down to his ears, the feeling of her cock filling his every core, the excitement that she has used him like a toy fills his every moment of being, so much so that his own pathetic moans get higher and higher, and he’s ready to burst.

“Not yet!” she snaps, as if through twin telepathy. She grabs the base of that cock, squeezing it tight, cutting off the means of escape for his cum. “You’re… nfh… not gonna… fuck… cum… gah… before I do!”

“Gaaaaaaaaah!” He whines, rocking his hips, attempting to stimulate her, to make her release, to get her to cum so that he can finally, finally have that sweet release himself.

Neither of them would have to wait long, for she throws her head back, her eyes rolling in her sockets, her body glistening from the excursion, and she releases, impregnating his ass with her celestial seed. By the time she’s done, Myster groans under such pressure.

And as quick as she came, Mysma pulls away from him, leaving him to cum and collapse all the the same time.

When she stands, turning away from him and marching through the hall, she utters one last thing to him. “For an ugly cretin, you are a good fuck… I suppose I will keep you around after all. But,” she continues, cutting off his pleading thanks. “My twin brother is dead. He died before he could make such a disgrace of himself.”