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Salty Tea II: Hex Upon Hex	By : PiddleyFangs Category: +A through F > Fire Emblem (all) > Fire Emblem (all) Views: 3450 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Fire Emblem. No money is made off of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Salty Tea II: Hex Upon Hex
- 1
The tone of the air was bathed in vengeance. The army was gearing up for a search. This was not going to be just an occasional visit to the area. The Shepherds had been there before after Lissa’s hex incident in the search for whoever had done this to her. The effects, as far as the rest knew, were not lasting, but the fact the person who did this has gone unpunished, It felt incorrect. There were people with hexes that could be used quickly in combat that could render a unit completely ill, stricken with a terrible flu. Even Henry would claim to at least need to be in close range or have a strand of one’s hair to cast such a hex. This variety hex being used in a combat situation was unheard of! And if they knew of what else had happened to Lissa, and how contagious that little addition was, they would be even more adamant to track down the mysterious mage.
Ideas for who could have performed such a task were uncertain, there were leads but they led nowhere. They could not confirm if the foes they had fought that they were local brigands of foreign threats. As a dark mage, chances are they hailed from Plegia. They couldn't exactly pinpoint who would have ordered a force to attack such a small village. There was one rumor there was a hidden school of powerful black magicians who sought to use such places as large testing grounds for spreading disease spells, pandemics of impurity that would adjust social norms and eventually override principles of decency. Chances are this could have been the group, and Lissa just so happened to have wandered into the cross fire.
“We should count ourselves lucky-“ Chrom spoke with earned ease to his troops. “-that no one has caught the disease Lissa had. Thank the gods for her speedy treatment.” During the speech Lissa looked to Maribelle. She had a new affliction that could use some treatment. A raging hard on that could not go unanswered for much longer. The girl couldn’t help but to try and look away from Lissa’s stare, her eyes nervously looking away, her cheeks blushed red under her make up. Her skirt was a bit of a harder one to hide her physical excitement under, but the curly haired girl sure tried.
Everyone had a thick curiosity for the sickness, asking Lissa if what she had felt was like any other sickness. She was lucky Frederick’s lips were sealed, or else they’d really make her steam by insisting the disease may cause laziness. She wasn't lazy, just attending to her new plague she so happily nestled between her thighs! But no one at all was more curious than Tharja. It was rare the sorceress found her attentions drawn away from the tactician whose aura enticed her attention so. She found that Lissa was starting to develop a sort of behavior pattern worth observing. No one else would care, far too wholesome to ever imply something corrupt was happening to the victim of such a menacing hex! But if anything, Tharja would wish to learn the hex and perhaps cast it on foes at a later date. So, her vigilance well justified, she had observed Lissa’s new patterns.
She was most often tent bound. Made off like a girl with a secret. And Maribelle now frequented her tent very often. There moans aplenty, with nonsensical lewd talk splattered against the tent walls. A miracle no one could hear, but then again, no one was listening for it. They were so wrapped up in other things and the girl were experts at deciding on just the perfect times to meet in secret. Tharja hadn’t the bravado as of yet to proper sneak up and delve past the tent flaps to see what going-ons could inspire such hearty moans. She was an absolute expert stalker, no one had a more voyeuristic tendency than her, but not even she was sure she would be able to get the whole story on people so conscious, so awake. Besides, if she were to find them and get caught before she could discover anything important, they would just make their hiding spot more difficult to discover. She was far better off letting them continue until Tharja could employ an expert plot.
One thing was certain; Lissa and Maribelle was a thing. They failed desperately at disguising it. They had kissed at times, and properly hugged and groped. They were too lustful to keep hiding it in public, so they made it something of a quick news to those concerned. It never went far enough for it to reach up to Chrom, or ever too many people, but a decisive few were now aware. And they were rather supportive. There wasn’t any hatred for certain, and acceptance was more common than not an openly given thing. But still, there was a sneaking suspicion some had some less than approving words in mind for them, and the two themselves had issues to deal with.
When the fires died down, the two were left with a fact for certain, that being they have changed. Maribelle and Lissa had calmed over the first week of witless sex, effortlessly trying to contain a conversation in the boundaries of explorative conversing without Maribelle begging to receive a cock up the ass. It was a surprisingly difficult task. Any time they talked in private, it took every part of them to just not dissolve into a boiling pit of endless, oozing sex. There was nothing moronic about it, just completely uncontrollable and whenever it started it was all downhill from there.
At last, Maribelle came prepared with a calming brew of tea, a special blend whose leafy earthy smell emitted a rich soft smell that soothed ones nostrils, and in turn set the whole mind at ease. They looked each other dead on, fighting lusts they were still so painfully aware of.

“L-Lissa, darling…” Maribelle started the conversation, feeling it was her place to be stronger, feeling it was only right she helped Lissa after all that has happened to them. “I haven’t any idea how this has happened to us, perhaps this was the true meaning behind that spell that has been cast…” The girl breathed in and out heavily, her delicate pale face incapable of hiding a blush. The word hex was so hot. It made every part of her tingle. Lissa made her tingle even more. She was forced overtime to accept a new grotesque function of her body. She felt something pulsate between her thighs, the flushing of heated blood an inescapable feeling of sweeping heat pressing between something thick that rested between her legs. She gulps, looking Lissa dead on. “W-We will figure out how to control this…” She couldn’t control this. She didn’t want to. “We can keep calm, and jus- Oh damnation I haven’t any wit for this! Clear this damned table of that stupid kettle! My ass hasn’t been filled by you in so long-“

Tharja peered in past the tent. She had no intention of being so unsubtle, but it could be excused no longer! Whatever was in there may be a threat to Robin if it were to be some sort of disease! If Lissa was still sick with whatever hex inflicted her, it was only a matter of time until it spread up to the rest of her damn royal family, and inevitably Chrom would lay with his beloved tactician and wife, and there it goes! The apple of Tharja’s eye is down trodden by the forsaken illness that bedridden Lissa and crippled her war skills. And there Tharja saw Lissa’s slick cock slide in and out of Maribelle’s thick ass. The proper blonde was undone of any clothing, whilst Lissa had simply created a hole in her stockings to sneak her cock through and had done away with her cumbersome skirt. Maribelle even had one of these corrupt male organs! It was long, and rapidly it pulsated, so grotesquely spitting out new dribbles of excitement in the form of a clear splattering fluid. The mage gasped into her thin fingers, sneaking back out of the tent. She had to pretend like she had never seen this. There was no promise at all that the other two hadn’t noticed that Tharja was peeking, but now there was no time to worry!
…
A potion bubbled, a book turned, each page a forgotten record of some experimental spell or some nonsensical hex that when applied to a person would simply cause something oddly specific to happen in an odd circumstance on an oddly specific day at an oddly specific time. Hexes were difficult things, and it showed the skill of a mage if the time and effects are lasting and various. It’s easy to make a hex that takes away, but very hard to craft one that adds. Tharja can rob someone of almost anything. Fear of women, love, jealousy, shame, but she has never come across a hex the likes of which she has seen.
The sorceress hadn’t even need to research much further, the pieces all clicked when she finally seen the symptom of her disease that Lissa had not been showing. It was so clear now that the hex was one of indescribable corruption, one that first rewrote Lissa’s body chemistry to allow for a new addition. And the fact that Maribelle hadn’t slacked in her army performance nor had she been sick means the hex was growing. The hex was already more efficient, and even further was spreading! Tharja could not deny, this was damn impressive. She cursed silently to her favored skull, regarding the aged relic, passing it to the side to reach some other tome of some cryptic lessons of some half-baked sage whose teachings may have been considered either risqué or too powerful depending on your valuing of the sexual acts as magic.
To create a hex that adds a new organ, as well as corrupts the personality seemingly, and even spreads to other people new and improved beyond the original author?! This could be nothing short but the work of a genius in the fields of hexing! “Whoever these people are… they’re getting on my damn nerves. What sort of group could author such a nasty hex, and to what effect? Personally, I’m not sure there’s much of a market for contagious genitals, and really, it has moved far too slow for it to have much of a combat effect.” Tharja sighed, finding her preferred seat in the low lighting of her tent, appraising a few more tomes. A pile began on either side of her chair where contemplated and eventually rejected books weere brought to.
“Let’s think like an irresponsible hexer, Tharja.” She spoke aloud to herself, standing at her full length mirror, finding some half-formed appreciation of her form this particular day, but nothing strong. Thoughts on herself tended to be not that incredibly compelling. “Is this some really disappointing scheme from that Grimleal cult to try and improve fertility? I think they had some nutso thing with trying to knock as many people as possible up in homage to Grima.” She sighs, resting her hands on her hips. “Or maybe one of those anti-culture cults that inhabit some of the deserts of Plegia? It may seem fitting… But wouldn’t they try and go about in some, I don’t know, more extreme way? To me, growing a dick isn’t a very big deal.” There wasn’t anything too odd about it at all. To Tharja, it seems like normal faire. She was willing to bet she could make her dick growing hex if she so wished it. It couldn’t be that hard at all. She couldn’t deny the challenge was tempting, though as of now she wouldn’t be sure who to test it on to actually check to see if she had succeeded.
“This could be something loose from one of those schools for dark mages. I wouldn’t put it above some teenaged moronic simpleton to just let loose some life shattering hex… The only problem is that person would need to be staggeringly smart to actually manage such a spell.” It was irritating at this point to keep thinking about who could’ve done this. She was done with that, and now she was wondering how it was done. First of all, the casting was done from a tome most likely. It was a physical blast that delivered the hex. Lissa was hit by it, and not just impacted but actually thrown back a fair distance from the force of the blast. This was not some preset trap nor some talisman snuck onto Lissa’s person. This was a blast of cock creating force. That means in theory the creator could blast just about anyone if they were in range. A scary thought, if not tempting to Tharja. At any moment you could be blasted, and if not for the few days of sickness, just completely expectantly be caught growing such a perverted additional member. Tharja grinned excitedly, her grip at her hips tensing. She was rather pleased to admire her body without her cloak hiding her features. Her hips did fit nicely against her choice in garments, and the tights made her pale complexion appealingly dark, her flesh rounded out nicely and tightly squeezed in her body suit. She looked to floor, seeing she had dropped her cloak at some point.
She realized now she was thinking down the wrong path. She had to know how this spell was made! It truly didn’t matter who made it, the issue now was how to inflict it further, or possibly cure it. For the sake of her allies who were infected by it, if they did not wish to have such additions to their minds and their thighs. The most mysterious part was still haunting her, how the hex seemingly changed the way it triggered as well as the speed of conversion. How could this be, unless… Tharja had read a tome on the idea. She by no means had her hands on it anymore, but it was certainly relevant. She could recall there was dark research on the idea of an adaptive contagious hex. Something even Tharja would consider overkill. It was just a concept, and one that the author was uncertain if it could be done or not, but ominously enough it went into deal on specifics. A hex whose contagious capabilities and even effects could be altered based off the person it contaminated. It would draw from the host’s personality and even their shames, forming from them an ironic dark way to further the power of the spell. Tharja arched her back a little, hollowly watching her form writhe in the mirror, seeing through her reflection the way her fingers snuck past the cloth at her loins and teased at her crotch.
Lissa would obtain the hex and feel its force as normally intended. It would reside in her, and feed off her and eventually create its own way to spread. How would the princess then spread it? Assumingly, yes, it could simply be forcing her will. Proving she wasn’t delicate. Tharja’s occasional observation of her has proven useful. But that does not answer about Maribelle. How has that influenced her? Of course, the speed of the taint has already gone up, but how would she spread it? She can seem uppity, frowns upon depraved behavior, and can be pretty contained on her inner self for the sake of perceived class. So how else would she spread but with a depraved act? Perhaps having someone there to witness what has overcome her, how her new tainted addition rocks happily and lewdly hangs from her fat thighs, how her body is devastated by the dedicated Lissa, and any images of fragility shattered as they pound endlessly.
When were Tharja’s fingers buried so deep against her fabric? They brushed past her underwear and ripped a hole through her tights. This pair was already ruined, so might as well make more laborious splendor from this happy little accident. Where was she? Oh yes, how to create the spell to herself a dick. She couldn’t help but noticed how thick it was on Maribelle, how nicely such a corrupt addition accentuated just how mistakenly dark her feminine form was being misshaped into. Tharja could only fascinate at the idea of having one of her own. Ever since she laid eyes on Maribelle, she knew deep down inside how bad she wanted one, how nice it would feel growing against her tights, how it would bulge up against her tight body hugging veil. She could hardly contain her heated breaths that gasped from her hot agape mouth in fits of steam and drool. The sight was so incredible to her, her purple eyes rolling up, her eyes slanted, her fingers tensing inside her. She curled up against her walls, tapping on her g-spot as one would to empty sugar from the round side of a spoon. Working so hard to get it all out.
She rides against her folds, slicking as many fingers as she can in and out. How does she make such a spell to fill her form with such a insidious addition? How does she evolve her form further down the line of evil? She exhales, feeling her form cumming against her fingers. She could just ask Lissa and Maribelle.
…
The following day was as average as any. The camp was becoming more and more permanent as the days passed. The army was determined to pinpoint who or what had caused this sort of hex to have been casted on poor Lissa, and they would not stop until they were certain that threat has been removed. They haven’t come across any clues left about where they could go to track down where these men come from, but at least while they are here they could continue to protect a rather weak town from an immense force of barbarians. The town’s folk were unversed in combat, but well learnt in complex craftsmanship, making them a prime target for dimwits and feral men who could use them to craft any complicated matter they may need. Barons of the land were ill-equipped to anticipate the magical sort of invasion, as well, putting it simply, the village was currently between barons. Meaning, of course, no one competent is checked in to make sure this resource haven is overseen by the defenses and management it needs.
Lissa and Maribelle were enjoying lunch by themselves, the hearts painfully visible in their glances. They were connected at all times, and even in their lunch they had created a little love nest out of the situation. No one dared to sit near their isolated little table, their particular food side conversation dedicated to the concept of a couple’s privacy. None would interrupt their casual conversing save for one who truly had something important to bring up. Such as Tharja.
Tharja approached paradise island, a dark storm of velvet cloudy curves and a storm stored up inside. Lissa noticed the girl oncoming, setting aside her sandwich mid-bite onto her place. Maribelle turned to catch the dark woman who had caught the attentions of her beloved. Tharja sat nonchalantly at the table, creating a less suspicious stature at their table, not that it was likely anyone would look any see anything at all too suspicious, though they would likely think something if Tharja stood and talked. That created images of something important and demanding for Tharja to keep such posture. “So, here’s the situation you two.” She starts. “I saw what you have at your tent. I want one.” She sniffs a little, peering at both of them, seeing their agape mouths and wide eyes. “I figured it should be easy enough to spread. Perhaps as simple as just some excretions from the afflicted areas… That’s how I would spread it if I made this sort of hex. Have the curse spread by the new sexual fluids.” Lissa gulped.
“I-I don’t know what to say, Tharja. This is so scary to us, I don’t think we can just spread it-“

“Come on, it would not be hard. Just touch yourself a little, get a little squirt under the table right now.” Tharja continued, protesting.

“Not here!” Lissa caught her tone and volume, clearing her throat. “Not here… Umm… Can you give us some time to think on it?” Tharja sighed, clearly anticipating this.

“I’ll get what I want either way. Come to my tent when you have news on how easy you are going to make this for me. I have my ways.” Even when the girl had left, a mist of malaise hung over the girl’s table. The two stared at eachother once Tharja was gone. The stress of the choice they would have to make hanging over them. Lissa supposed they would have to wait until they reach the tent to really discuss in candor the meaning of the decision before them, but Maribelle was fired up enough to lay down her opinions on it blunt and right away.

“Some part of me is saying my answer is just wrong, and I find this disturbing, but I feel we should not be spreading this, Lissa!” Maribelle looked to Lissa, scooting her wooden chair around the circular table to achieve a more personal conversation. “Whilst the pleasures I’ve felt, the new dews that drop on my thighs incredible… I can’t fight the fact that this is wrong. It’s bad enough this has spread to us, but we shouldn’t let it go any further. I think we’ve found a way to simply make it work with tender love and support. We should be the only ones to have this curse, and that is where I stand.” Lissa bit down on her lip, trying to release something pent up, some awful sensation. “You look as if you have something to say?” Maribelle asked, almost accusatory.
“I-I want…” Lissa looked her dead in the eyes, something new to them. Her pupils were darker, her eyes seemed hazy, her tongue split apart her clamped lips. “I want to convert her Maribelle. I want to so hard!” Lissa gasped, feeling it all come out at last. She cleared her throat, trying to find the moment before she was so passionate about the subject. Stanching the oncoming venomous opinions, Lissa speaks, seeking her heart to be put in this matter. “I mean, I know how you feel Maribelle. About all this dicky stuff. It feels all icky to have one, and I so don’t want to spread it. But there is a part of my brain, and it’s making me really hot about it. Like, the idea of spreading it is like the hottest thing in the world to me. And not to mention, Tharja is asking for it. She’s not going to have it any other way. She’s getting a dick, with or without our help.” Lissa nodded. “I-I need this boner sucked off so bad, like you don’t even know.”

“L-Lissa.” Earlier into their relationship maybe only a day past their initial conversion, the golden drilled girl would pardon Lissa’s speech and suggest a new curse, but now Maribelle has felt her resistance give way. She was forever a willing victim to Lissa’s arising sexual needs. They could agree though, they had no intention to stick their dicks in Tharja to transmit the stuff required to really make it happen. They weren’t quite ready to get that casual about their sexy. “Than what do you propose, Lissa?”

“Well I mean… When I turned you, we were having a tea party… So maybe, what I’m figuring is… We could maybe put it in the tea?”

“T-The tea?!”

“Well yeah… Just get some junky brand you don’t really care for… Please Maribelle! It’s either this, or I have to let Tharja suck one of us off with or without our permission, and I’m not sure I want our relationship to get that open.” That was enough backing to convince the girl. Their claims to one another were still monogamous, so innocent, though neither would yet be willing to confess their exciting curiosity at being more open. Corruption and their minds were still running parallel.
…
As the sunset came to rest the night atmosphere was lit by torches instead of starlight. The moon was wrapped tightly by the hanging clouds that so thinly veiled the face of light. Dinner had just been served, a time that guaranteed just about anyone was busy. It was risky of the two blondes to claim a stomach ache to malinger from the group dining, but the last thing anyone would thing would be a resurfacing of the sickness related hex. If anything, the more aware would assume they simply had something along the lines of a steamy and romantic night in store. They certainly left enough hints they were building up to something with the way they were heated up at lunch. Their exploits where well documented at this point, eyes glued onto them more than they were aware, but the worst anyone thought of them was just that they were a couple madly and purely in love with all sorts of passions taking root.

“Really, I’m happy for them!” Stahl commented to his peers as they sat by the fresh fire for the night, the man happiest to talk when his meal was half finished and he found in his victory lap of his meal the time to become more leisurely about it.

“They are mighty cute! Personally, I’ll be wishin’ ‘em the best.” Donnel added, giving a stern nod a soulful bump to his pot atop his scraggly head.

“It’s good you boys feel that way.” Sully commented as she waked into the light of the fire, joining the conversation as she felt prompted. “I heard too many stories of armies that couldn’t allow this sorta stuff. Man, makes me happier to fight by men who aren’t disgusted by that sorta love.” Stahl and Donnel grinned from ear to ear. With the overwhelmingly positive opinion towards the romance, anyone who disagreed wouldn’t be talking for sure. Most were respecting their privacy, and under peer pressure, anyone who disliked their relationship would likely be untrusted even if they were to spy on the tent and observe what was about to occur.
Tharja walked by night’s light to the tent agreed upon. The stars left faint blue hazy light for guidance, the path through the thing grass and beaten trail was one that led through rows of tents to a more distant one. Maribelle made it clear she was very aware of any unwanted noise, and demanded to be situated far enough way so no one’s nonsense would disturb her very much needed rest. This has proven useful immediately. Tharja recalled her thoughts from when she had made that request all that time ago, having thought she had something to hide. Now she was fully aware of what there was to hide. She could turn back, report what they’ve become, bring back her focus to the cure, to help and purify them. But Tharja wasn’t being driven to walk to their tent by impulse, some action she could snap out of and back down from. She moved each foot forward to the temptation, the absolute desire. Her drive to become what they are was unmistakable. She had acquiesced to her desires, begged to no longer be tormented by the vision of the girl’s thick cock, the way it swung. It aroused Tharja upon every recollection, frustrated tears all that could be formed to vent this steam any more. Her efforts to ease the itch through self-pleasure was long gone. Ever since after lunch, she was locked up in her tent, making use of any object she had procured over the years to no avail. She was restless, soporific passions having driven her last effort to fatigue. Giving in and begging for their additions was all that remained.
The path felt endless, but she was already there. She tapped upon the flap to the tent, waiting to be greeted into it. She was coming announced this time, something the mage couldn’t recall doing too often. The flap was opened, and on the other side was Maribelle, greeting the mage into the warmer inside. The lighting was fairly well, a few corners of the tent finding them in the umbra. Tharja was seated at the round table in the center. Lissa sat opposite of her, and Maribelle took a seat next to her. The room was not very well festooned, about as fashionable as it got was the table itself and the bed snugged into one corner complete with curtains around the frame and well decided upon covers. Tharja looked to her hosts, hoping they wouldn’t notice how she bit down upon her bottom lip as the growing tension was too much. Anticipation was at the tip of all Tharja could feel. Her rear shook in her seat, and her hands were finicky. She looked all over, her eyes never settling. She couldn’t take much longer without release. Tap. Gently set at her side was a tea cup atop a circular little plate. Maribelle lifted a white tea pot and poured a milky brew into her cup.
“Here you are darling… I did my best to attempt to make the flavor something… enjoyable.” Maribelle turned her eyes away, setting the kettle to the side, looking displeased with the fact this was an action she committed, and a brew forever tied to her record.
“I-I take it there is the required substance in the tea?” Tharja inquired.
“It is.” Lissa replied, a little girlish grin on her lips as she watched. “Maribelle was the taste tester, she said it was hard to get my stuff to not taste too salty and bitter.”
“There are a few teas that work as being salty, but in my pallet bitter is simply not going to do.” Maribelle added, feeling it needed to add commentary. “It was either butter or milk, but for sure the special ingredient already drove the whole thing to a deplorable thickness. So first the ingredient must be fixed, stirred and driven to a smoother texture. Then added to the tea with milk and a splash of sugar. The resulting concoction is really a regrettable brew, but deserving of being dubbed as much as any other scum that is concocted every day. I give you, Salty Tea. The more extravagant name is in the works.” Maribelle cleared her throat, very much done with the rant, fueled by having to be the sampler and creator of the tea.
“We really could’ve served the stuff alone in a cup,” Lissa added. “But I figured this would be classier.”
Tharja nodded, lending them the time needed to finish their talking. “May I?” She asked, despite all her secretly swelled desperation and desires, something compelled her to ask.
“Please do.” Lissa nodded, her grin still present.
Tharja lifted the cup to her lips. Her eyes were dazed, not finding anything to focus on so they just let the world go blurry. The liquid passed through her lips. There was a blurry line between tea and a thicker substance that laid in the cup, attempted to be mixed with the beverage. Salty was the right descriptor. The taste was immediate and there, though the thicker texture was like a smooth butter sliding against her tongue. The sweeter and lighter brew of tea was complimentary to it. She had admit, this beat having to just eat the gunk by its lonesome. Tharja cried softly against her cup, her pale cheeks lit with a rosy red blush. The sensation derived from the knowing what it was sliding down her throat. Knowing that Lissa’s thick creamy loin nectar has graced her throat, and now she was but moments away. She nearly collapsed against her seat and fell to the floor.
Maribelle and Lissa hurried to assist, lifting her from her chair and helping her to the bed. They laid her there, watching nervously. They both nibbled against their respective lips, feeling a whole sensation arise. The brain is no stranger to rewards of pleasure, but the ones they received were completely foreign. It was inhuman pleasure they were granted. To watch and await, fully aware they were the cause, that this conversion was their making. Every second of it occurring was bliss, the whole process unforgettable pleasures. Their tongues hanged from their mouths, their eyes slanted in pleasure. No one had a calm breath to them, for every single one was heated.
It had only been a few minutes passed the initial consumption, and Tharja was already feeling different. She said she felt an itch at her crotch, and she was to work on removing the cloth that hugged her hips and covered her loins. The golden belt was undone and tossed to the side, revealing underneath her lower region was covered with a darkly colored thong below her tights. She panted, feeling it all happening quickly now. The path was so long before! But now it was only steps! Now she was finally there! Her head only now stopped racing, found time to let one thought course through her, her arousal that was so pent up anticipating this moment. Finally, it all made sense, it all became so logical. This hex was one she wanted to keep, one she wanted to finally feel. She couldn’t close her eyes, she had to stare at her loins with half shut eyes, thick fluttering lashes, and through the swelling of tears.
Her loins writhed, a visible bulge riding up against her thong, throbbing so thickly it shook her clothing, little vibrations sent through her tights. Lissa and Maribelle were right there, watching her body morph and change. Tharja couldn’t help but to feel a heavier exciting cringe at the thought. She wasn’t alone in her moment of change, rather she was something to be seen, an exciting moment to be gawked at and bring pleasure to all observers. This sensation was unshakable, not that she would ever dream of shaking it. Out from the bushes she came, and settled onto the center of the attention she found herself. And she loved every second of it.
Her thighs clenched and then relentlessly spread apart, taking the covers with her dark colored thick legs. She clenched her teeth and watched the bulge in her garments sprout further and further. It welled up more and more, the new organ vehemently bashed against the prison it was confined to. It was a tensed shaft with intensive attention requirements. It thrashed and writhed, the throbbing head of her new cock poked out from the curtain of garment beneath her tights, but now her body suit was the newest obstacle. It drove against it, the cock head shape clearly poking through it, but it desired the touch. Tharja couldn’t keep her hands off, constantly rubbing against it, letting it slip between her slender pale fingers, letting her jewelry brush up against it. Every sensation was new and wicked, which tickled her brain in just the right ways. Her knees bucked, her toes curled. Her mouth was agape, her wicked tongue lashing out and drooling. Her smoky eyes watched the new addition be birthed and fill a little reservoir it formed in her tights with her pre.
It goes without saying, so it wasn’t said for all this time, but Lissa and Maribelle were actively viewing this extravaganza. They were excelling in keeping their various bulges under wraps, but the time was coming when containing their excitement was becoming impossible. Lissa’s skirt was dropped, the cage like petticoat kicked to the side. All that remained were her leg hugging tights, a massive extrusion against the crotch of her pants. Maribelle stood, feigning shock at Lissa as she undid her boots and kicked them to the side, working to drop her pants to revel in her own bulge. Lissa’s was abnormally thick, even when brought into comparison with Maribelle’s. Lissa would be the winner when it came to shaft, but Maribelle contended in all other departments with her more mature looking body. But in the presence of Tharja’s accolade earning form, none could compete, and her granted cock was sizing up as a good competition to Lissa’s. It stopped an inch short of overcoming Lissa’s, but it was of note, that size, and how perfectly it twitched in its dark prison.
The two blondes stood, staring at the big throbbing elephant in the room, their outer tier of clothing shed and variously sized bulges throbbing to some fast beat of pounding arousal. Their knees quelled, their lips rattled and wetted, their legs spread and they braced against them. Tharja eyed them over with some new dominance to her purple eyes. She gazed at the meat between their legs, how they tried so hard to contain and restrain the gifts they had. To Tharja, it was such a waste. In this place of privacy, to attempt to disguise desire, to hold back on hectic, dark goals. Why, this simply wouldn’t do. “I’m willing to bet little Lissa would be the perfect… ahem, pussy to pound, no?” The sorceress spoke, a delicious hiss to her heavily pronounced words, an alluring gaze as her eyes darted over their forms.
Lissa dropped her tights. She couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t the perfect time and place for such an act. There was nothing to pretend anymore, it was just them. It was just her and her converted. She was responsible for forming them as they are now, and it was time she took responsibility. She stripped herself free of any clothing that stood in her way, not a fabric left on her form, her body bare, her cock hanging loose and hard. It grew more rigid by the second, and stood freely after a few jerks and eyeing over Tharja’s form. Maribelle stood watching. Their pledge to abstain from casual affairs such as this was fading in the fires she felt in her chest. It swelled and swelled, and a whole new love formed. She loved Lissa, and she knew this one would always be special, but blossoming in her hear was a kinship attraction to Tharja. She was a blessed beauty, with soft white curves, a burgeoning chest of commendable proportions. Fluffy folds to her body, fat and juicy in the hips thighs and breasts, and all around just so sinisterly tempting. And she didn’t just flaunt it. A hot and horny Tharja was a gift she never gave out to save a select few. And in Tharja’s gaze into Maribelle’s eyes, Maribelle knew without a doubt her and Lissa were now on her list.
The perky blonde climbed atop Tharja, straddling her thighs, letting her pale cock prod against her flat stomach, giving the new organ a touch of fresh new sensations, and giving Lissa the chance to size up how to go about this. The girl sized up how to climb atop the dick, gripping at the thick thing. The reasoning never occurred to Lissa this was her first time getting penetrated. It had slipped her mind at the time, the whole thing just felt like a smooth action, devoid of consequence or history or future. It was just the moment, a sweet sensory moment. The cock plunged pasted her tight lips, Lissa squealed at the sensation. Something so thick, so warm throbbing inside her. She tried to feel out which walls it rubbed against, but it was all so confusing in there. She was overwhelmed by the cock, so she defaulted to riding atop it, sticking her rear in the air, spreading her cheeks to show her little pucker to Maribelle. “Oh sweet cheeks~” Lissa sung.
“I-Isn’t that a tad filthy?” Maribelle retorted, her concern back to hygiene with her love of Tharja well confirmed.
“C’mon! It’ll be a good ‘ol double stuffing! Like a pheasant at dinner time!”
“Goodness, your vernacular is certainly… up to pace with our actions.”
“I think it’s pretty great.” Tharja added, thrusting hard back and forth with a sudden new burst, driving Lissa cross eyed. She angled her momentum, tugging backwards and riding against a whole new side of Lissa. “So hurry up and give the girl what she wants!” Maribelle was pretty obliged at this point. Whatever clothing was left on Maribelle was lost after a careful dose of bashful unbuttoning. Heart buttons were snapped open. Buckles undone. A clasp unhooked. Panties rolled up and pulled down. She was at last nude, busty, and hard. She stood awaiting appraisal but it never came, merely did Lissa heighten the pace of her rear shaking, a little whine rising from her mouth with dissatisfaction with her currently unstuffed rear.
Maribelle at last made with it, and thrust into Lissa. Maribelle’s pre was enough for lube, she had leaked out enough to give her thick cock head a thick coating of the stuff, She stuffed herself into Lissa, following a beat of going into her only after Tharja’s thrust. Lissa was inserted at very end, her mouth cooing sugary sweet blissful moans. Her eyes rolled, carelessly attending whatever vision she required. Attentiveness was no longer required. Happiness was achieved, her mind in equilibrium and splendor. A cock exploded its load into her. Tharja pulled out, shooting out her thick creamy ribbons of girl cum onto Lissa’s stomach, and one hand supported blast shot her in the face, her cheek covered in it, a good web of cum spreading over the bridge of her nose. Lissa gasped, her walls seizing around the void the cock left. Maribelle shoved her prick hungrily once more into her hole, and shot over flowing seed into her. She was truly the one with most efficient hose in that department. She withdrew, unaware of how much she was still cumming. She accidentally squirted on Lissa’s back. Wishing to apologize for having shot cum on her and made a mess, Maribelle opened her lips, what came out was “You look so fucking hot with all this miraculous white splendor dribbled over you, Lissa~” Lissa nodded with a wide grin, gather some up on her fingers and sucking at it.
“So, we sticking with the name Salty Tea? Because we’re going to need to make more~”
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Salty Tea II: Hex Upon Hex