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Our Father	By : WhiteWinter Category: +A through F > Corruption of Champions Views: 9295 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Corruption of Champions or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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          – Days later –

          When the clamp severs the cord, Lillian gasps a few shallow breaths as air fills her lungs for the first time, and when they’re full, she gives a strong, loud cry. A healthy cry. You wipe the wet wisp of her white hair from her face before handing her to Rebecc, whose eyes glow with joy as she takes her baby and brings her to her breast.

          . . .

          You don’t bother putting a hand to the railing as you descend the stairs to the cellar, as you’re more than capable of catching yourself should you fall. It took a few weeks, but the cellar is now finally free of that nagging scent of must and dust, and now smells no different than any room of the farmhouse above it. It smells mostly of lavender, but thanks to Lillian, there’s also a noticeable hint of baby powder in the air. It’s more of a furnished basement than a cellar, truthfully. The shelves are lined with folded blankets and clothes and stuffed animals, and toys both old and new are strewn-about over the carpeted floor, and though there are some wooden crates and farm tools tucked in corners, the cellar has more of a bedroom feel to it than it does a storage area. Rebecc has decorated the wall shelf nearest her bed with a pine wreath and idols to the Gods. The Gods don’t have much sway over you or most anyone else in your family, but Rebecc has always been pious, and you’re not so cruel that you’d take that away from her. So long as she knows to serve you first and foremost, she can have all the other Gods she wants.

          You find Rebecc wiping down Lillian on the padded changing table, replacing her dirtied cloth diaper with a clean one. Rebecc hears you approach, and she gives you a quick, smiling glance over her shoulder. “Hi, darling,” she says happily, before returning her attention to wiping Lillie’s bum.

          “Hey,” you say back. You come to stand beside her, and when you lean closer, Lillie’s eyes immediately switch from her mother to you, recognizing your face. You waggle a finger over her chin, and Lillie immediately grabs it in her soft, tiny hand. She’s a good-sized baby, at about eight and a half pounds, and save for the early nubby horns on her forehead, she looks no different than any human infants you saw in Ingnam, though her skin, like her mother, is more pale-white than it is pink. She has your gray eyes, as all of your children do, but she doesn’t open them often and doesn’t keep them open for long when she does. Again, like any other newborn. Lillie’s a quiet baby, not often crying. Squeaks, snorts, and the occasional sneeze are just about all the sounds she makes. She was a bit of a strange sight at first, as she’s your first child to be born as a true infant. Kylie hatched as a toddler from her egg, as all harpies do, and her mouse-siblings weren’t much less developed when Amily birthed them. But, unfamiliar sight or not, you wouldn’t want Lillie any other way. She’s perfect as she is.

          “I have something for you,” you say as you look to Rebecc.

          “Oh?”

          You reach into your pocket, brandish an old three-prong key, and put it in Rebecc’s hand.

          “What’s this to?” she asks as she examines it.

          “It’s the key to this cellar.”

          She looks back to you, but you don’t give her the chance to speak.

          “You’ve been good for this family,” you tell her, nodding. “Your family,” you correct yourself. “Kylie would’ve gone through a lot more pain birthing that egg if you hadn’t been there. You’ve helped around here in every way you can, cooking, harvesting, and most importantly, being a mother to our children. I appreciate you schooling the kids on Mareth. It’s important they learn more about this world beyond this farm and that old camp.”

          “I wouldn’t have been able to do it if Kylie hadn’t gotten the books from the Capital,” Rebecc says meekly, thinking herself too unworthy for your praise.

          “I know,” you nod again. “But this farm wouldn’t be the same without you. I’m not keeping you locked down here at night anymore.”

          “Okay,” Rebecc says softly. She sets the key on the changing stand, and she reaches for the freshly-changed Lillie, but before she can take her, you grab one of Rebecc’s arms, stopping her. When she looks to you again, she finds your brow lowered and your eyes glaring.

          “I’m warning you now,” you begin, “If you take Lillian and run away—”

          “—That’s not ever going to happen,” Rebecc cuts you off, shaking her head. There’s this look of genuine hurt in her eyes, like she’s devastated you’d still think she’d betray your trust, and though you don’t truly believe she will, this still needs to be said.

          “Let me finish. If you take Lillian and run away, Rebecc, I will chase you to each and every corner of this world. I don’t care where you go, wherever it is, I will follow you, and I will find you. And when I catch you, Lillian will be the only one coming home with me. You understand?”

          Rebecc raises her hand and puts it against your cheek, and her blue eyes glimmer with affection as they meet yours, just as they always did whenever she’d look upon you before you had stolen her from Owca and made her your wife. No, actually, not quite. The emotions behind her gaze are stronger now. They’re more intense and heartfelt. It’s more than affection now. It’s love. “I’m not going anywhere,” she declares, her tone soft yet strong. “Ever.” She runs her hand from your cheek to your chin and back again, caressing your face. “The Gods had you take me for a reason, darling. I wouldn’t have Lillian if it weren’t for you,” she says, glancing at Lillie before looking back to you. “She wouldn’t be perfect if it weren’t for you. I trust you. Why can’t you trust me?”

          “My trust has been broken before,” you answer, speaking quietly, almost in a whisper.

          “By who?”

          “No one in this world,” you utter as you shake your head. “In my old world. In Ingnam.”

          “Someone there hurt you?” she asks, her caring eyes studying yours.

          You gulp before you answer. “My father.”

          Why did you just tell her that? You swore to yourself you’d never mention your old life again.

          You clear your throat. “Do you know where the girls are?” you ask, swiftly changing the topic as you grab Rebecc’s hand and return it to her side.

          Rebecc seems hesitant to let you change the topic and escape like that, but she sees that you clearly want to speak no more of it, and her respect for your wishes outweighs her desire to see you confront your past.

          “Kylie and Laya are in Amily’s house, I think,” she answers. “Ave’s fishing at the lake with Kian. I’m not sure where Nati is.”

          You lean over and peck a kiss on Lillie’s forehead and turn to leave, but Rebecc puts her hand on your shoulder and stops you, just as you did to her a moment ago. “Don’t forget about me,” she says, smiling, and you chuckle under your breath as she pulls you into her and kisses you. “See you at dinner, darling,” she says when you pull away.

          You jog up the stairs and make your way down the hall towards the farmhouse’s front door. Today’s a big day. There seems to be a lot of those lately, ‘big days,’ but this one might be the biggest yet. Natalia, Averie, and Alaya are grown now, and the time has come for you to—

          —The sound of something shattering stops your thoughts. You hurry to the source of it, the lounge, and find Amily kneeling on the hardwood floor in the middle of the room, picking up a dozen shards of a vase and carefully amassing them into a single pile. She’s wearing a blouse and cotton pants and has her brown hair weaved into a bun, a very housewife-y look. Kylie’s black-and-purple egg sits in the rocking chair just behind her, partly swaddled in its birthmother’s old pink blanket.

          “What happened?” you ask.

          “I don’t know,” she says, giving an emphatic shrug of disbelief. “I was just rocking in the chair with Kylie’s egg when the vase crashed onto the floor.”

          “Was it on the edge of the table?”

          “I don’t think so,” she shakes her head. “And it didn’t just fall, it . . . jumped. I . . . I don’t know, I’ve got the window open, it must’ve just been the wind.”

          You walk to the open window and hold your hand through. No breeze. Strange. You turn back to Amily and cross your arms as you give a short sigh. First the shattered lamp from Kylie’s childbirth, and now this shattered vase. As unique and bizarre as your family might be, when it comes to inadvertently breaking furniture, it seems to be no different than any other.

          “Have you felt how heavy that egg is now?” Amily asks you, and her words prompt you to look to it. It seems damn near twice as large now than it was when Kylie birthed it. “Must be almost thirty pounds now,” she says.

          “Good. Means it’s healthy. It wouldn’t be growing if it wasn’t.”

          Amily stands to her feet and pats her blouse. “How do those eggs grow without breaking apart?”

          “You’re asking the wrong person,” you say with a chuckle. “I have no idea.”

          “You think it’ll hatch soon?”

          “I imagine so. Sooner than you think, probably.”

          You kiss Amily’s cheek and leave her, heading to the hall and starting down towards the front door again.

          What were you saying before? Oh, right. Nati, Ave, and Laya. Their time has come. They’re grown young women now, and today’s the day you deflower them. But with Lillian born, Kylie’s egg about to hatch, and Sophie and Whitney being pregnant, some family planning is definitely in order. Impregnating your mouse-girls each with their own litter would be an awful idea. That could mean damn near twenty new arrivals, and even as spacious as the farm is, that would just be too much of a population shock. Your drive to procreate and sire children has been uncontrollable since you’ve embraced your corruption, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to redirect. You almost hate to have to do this, but it’s going to be planned procreation from here on out. Nati, Ave, and Laya will be mothers someday, but not now, not yet. That said, you’re still going to make them women. You’re just going to need to employ some . . . restraint, and to be mindful of where you leave your seed.

          The air’s a little chilly as you step out onto the porch, but it’s not uncomfortable, as the midday sun does a good job of warding off the cold of the night. The seasons in Mareth are erratic, and though you seem to be in the midst of a long autumn, there’s no telling whether a snowy winter or another dry summer will take its place.

          The very moment the door swings shut behind you, Cain gallops over to the side of the porch. He’d been waiting for you, seems like. As you take in the sight of him, it’s incredible to see just how much he already he looks like a man. His jaw is angular but masculine, his brow is strong and intense, and he has the beginnings of a patchy stubble on his face. He wears a short-sleeved shirt that tightly hugs his well-defined barrel-chest, but he wears nothing on his lower horse-half, nothing to obscure his manhood that rests under his rear haunches. There isn’t much a centaur could wear down there to avoid being nude, and everyone in your family is mature enough to realize that.

          “I want to talk, Dad,” he tells you, though it sounds more of a demand than a request. He’s upset, and you think you already know why.

          “Okay.” You walk over and rest your arms on the porch’s railing. With his towering stature, despite the fact he’s standing on the earth and you’re standing on the raised porch, Cain’s face is only a few inches lower than yours. He’s got to be at least seven feet from hoof to head, and he’s still got a little more growing yet to go. He’s not like his half-‘pony’ mother or similarly undersized sister. He’s a true, massive centaur. The size dimorphism in centaurs is a vast one. Big men, small women.

          “When are you going to take me to the forest?” Cain asks.

          You’re silent for a moment, and you look away from him, out over the farm. You aren’t quite sure what answer Cain wants to hear from you, but, really, there’s only one answer to give. “When you’re ready,” you say.

          “I am ready,” he professes, his tone darkening with anger.

          You look back to Cain and meet his gray eyes. “No, you’re not,” you tell him point-blank. “Not yet. Just . . . be patient.”

          He scowls at that. “I don’t want to be patient.”

          “Your brother was older than you when I took him to the forest.”

          “I don’t care,” he says, furiously shaking his head. “I’m done waiting.”

          You reach to Cain and grab his chin. “I’m not conspiring against you,” you growl at him, not with anger, but with exasperation. “I’m not trying to make you unhappy, alright? I know you’re having urges, Cain, and I know they’re strong, but when you sate them for the first time, they won’t just be ‘urges’ any longer. They’ll be cravings. They’ll be hungers. You see how often Kian’s gone? He leaves as often as he does because he has to. Because sating himself is as essential to him as drawing breath.”

          “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cain mutters, his voice and gaze suddenly uneasy and uncertain.

          “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying . . . enjoy your life as it is now while you still can. Just because you aren’t little anymore doesn’t mean you’re not still a child. Don’t rush into it, Cain. It’ll come in due time, and when it does, I’ll be there with you. Okay?”

          “Okay,” he says, nodding weakly.

          You give his cheek a gentle pat. “Now go on,” you tell him, and with that, he slowly turns and trots off.

          When he’s gone, you start down the porch’s steps and take a short walk down the dirt road to the farmhouse closest to yours, where Amily and your mouselings all sleep, assuming none of them are sharing your bed, which, after today, won’t be a guarantee for the girls anymore. The red paint and spacious attic are the only clues the house was once a barn. The sliding barn doors have been taken out, re-walled, and replaced with a standard door same as any other, and curtained windows now dot the building’s walls. It took a great deal of time and effort on Whitney’s part, but she rose to challenge and did an excellent job. The interior’s vastly different, as well. When you walk through the door, you’re standing in a furnished, well-kept living room complete with white carpeting and beige wallpaper. Really, the only thing the farm’s new houses lack are kitchens, but considering that everyone always eats in the “central” farmhouse – your home – it’s not needed. You’ve always stressed the importance of communal meals, and with everyone sleeping in separate homes now, it’s especially important for remembering that everyone here is a family. A big and bizarre family, sure, but a family all the same. When the day comes that your house’s dining room can’t hold everyone anymore – and it will come – the only thing that’ll change is that Whitney will be getting to work on building a dining hall.

          As you walk down the hall to the bedrooms, you begin to hear muffled talking, and when you draw closer to Alaya’s door, you recognize her and Kylie’s voices coming from within. The door’s closed but unlocked, as you’ve commanded everyone in your family to follow a strict No-Locked-Doors policy. The only two doors to be locked – scratch that, make it the only single door now – is the master bedroom’s door in the central farmhouse. Your room. And even then, it’s only to be locked by you, no one else.

          You put your ear against the door, and Laya’s voice is the first to be heard. “He won’t like it,” she says, speaking flat-toned and sounding somber and insecure. “He won’t like me.”

          “Don’t be silly,” Kylie reassures her. “Of course he’ll like it.”

          “I won’t be good for him.”

          “Yes you will.”

          Seems like you chose a good time to eavesdrop. Laya must’ve realized that her time has been nearing. It’s never really been a secret.

          “He’ll be angry at me,” Laya says, and that hurts your heart to hear. How could she ever think that?

          “Don’t be silly,” Kylie says, her voice soft and soothing. You’ve never doubted Kylie’s confidence in you, but it’s still reassuring to hear her defend you, to be your voice when you can’t be. “He’ll never be angry at you,” Kylie tells her. “You’re his baby. You’re everything to him.”

          Familiar words. Kylie really does take everything you say to heart, doesn’t she?

          “Will it . . . will it hurt?” Alaya asks.

          “Yes,” Kylie says.

          That draws a fearful whimper from Alaya, and the sound of it makes your heart sink in your chest. Fear . . . that’s one thing you’ve never wanted your children to feel. You can’t let Alaya be afraid of you. You still intend to take her virginity, but you won’t do it like you did when you took Kylie’s. You were violent with Kylie that first time you fucked her because you knew she could take it, because you knew that, in the end, she’d enjoy being roughed up like a slut . . . but this can’t be the same. Alaya . . . she’s a sensitive girl. She needs a sensitive touch.

          You put your hand on the doorknob, but you stop yourself when you hear Kylie speak again. “It’ll only hurt at first,” she says. “And if you relax, it won’t hurt at all. You’ll even start to like it. Believe me. I know it’s scary to think about, and it hurt bad for me at first too, but . . . it changes. Laya, I’ve never been happier than I am now. Every night Daddy lets me be with him is a night I’m grateful for. I know he spoils me and I know it’s selfish, but . . . I wish I had him more. I wish I could have him every single night. One day, you’ll be the same. You’ll want him as bad as I do.”

          “- - - help me?” Alaya whispers, the first words too quiet to hear. “Will you show me?”

          “Are you sure?” Kylie asks.

          “Yes.”

          There’s silence for a long moment, until you begin hearing a faint smacking of flesh. It sounds almost like. . . no . . . it can’t be. You turn the doorknob and push forward. The door’s new, its hinges freshly-oiled, and it’s silent as you open it just a couple inches’ worth, just enough to see through the crack. Sure enough, just as you suspected, you see Kylie and Alaya sitting on the edge of Laya’s bed, their hands clasped together between them, and though they’re facing the door, they can’t see you, as they’re preoccupied with their gentle but passionate kiss. Kylie kisses her little sister skillfully and with practiced love and passion. Have they kissed before? When they make their kiss wet and deep without hesitation or difficulty, letting their tongues play and mingle, that definitely answers your question. How often do they kiss? When was the first time? Before you can ponder it further, Kylie breaks their kiss and pulls away from Laya’s lips, only to put her hands to Laya’s shoulders and gently push her down onto her back, with her legs hanging over the edge of her bed.

          Kylie strips first, unzipping her wing-friendly sweatshirt by its back and slipping out of it, but that’s the extent of how far she denudes, and she doesn’t touch her bra. She tugs down Alaya’s sweatpants by the waistband, freeing her skinny, furry legs and leaving only her pair of pink panties, but Laya’s not left in that for long, as Kylie then slowly tugs them down too, stripping Laya into the nude from the waist down. Alaya does the duty of pulling off her hoodie, but she doesn’t do the same with her pink bra. Laya’s not flat-chested, but she’s still always seemed insecure about her petite tits, being that most every other woman in the family has a substantial pair of breasts – including her own beloved big sister – but you won’t let that insecurity last for long.

          The tuft of purple fur guarding Alaya’s labia opens when Kylie pushes apart her legs, revealing the pink, shining lips of her moist, virginal pussy. Kylie runs her hands along Laya’s thighs as she keeps them pressed open, petting her and calming her, and it isn’t long before Kylie has Laya’s unease melting away, replaced by a shy but needy lust. Laya’s already nibbling her bottom lip when Kylie lowers her head and puts her lips to her Laya’s thigh and kisses her. She smooches her lovingly again and again, making a trail of kisses from her knee to the edge of her furry mons, though she doesn’t yet dare to greet Laya’s cunt. She makes a circle of kisses around her younger sister’s muff but never puts her lips to Laya’s inflamed, puffy pussy. Laya’s mouth hangs open as she lets out breathy moans, her gray eyes locked on Kylie below her, watching as her sister worships her thighs and crotch with a tender, gentle passion.

          “Can I touch it?” Kylie asks in a whisper.

          Alaya nods.

          Kylie moistens her plump lips with her tongue, and at last, she brings her mouth to Laya’s pussy. She pecks a kiss right onto Laya’s tunnel, which draws a gasp from her, and she quickly follows it up with another smooch, and then another, until she’s barraging Laya with a series of swift kisses to every corner of her pussy. When Kylie finally kisses Laya’s clitoris, her squeaky gasps shift to breathy moans, but Kylie doesn’t stop there, and she follows it with yet another short kiss to Laya’s pink little bud. Ready to pick up the pace and the pleasure, Kylie lolls out her tongue and sweeps it gently against Laya’s soaking-wet cunny, giving her long, affectionate licks, making Laya’s pussy-lips slick with more than just her own fluids. Laya’s moans slowly turn shrill, her chest rising and falling just a bit faster, but Kylie doesn’t slow her efforts, and she starts twisting and turning her head as she angles her tongue into every corner of Laya’s pussy that she can reach, pleasuring her little sister in every way she can manage. Though you’re fairly certain Kylie has only ever given oral sex to her mother during threesomes with Sophie and you, Kylie worships Laya’s pussy with surprisingly deft touches of her moist tongue, jabbing at her clit with it like a wet spear, lapping it over her flower like a gentle brush, and Laya has no choice but to squirm and writhe as her untouched teen pussy is flooded with pleasure the likes of which she’s never felt. Kylie’s a masterful pussy-eater, it seems. No less talented with a cunt in her mouth than she is with a cock.

          It’s a strange sight. You can still vividly remember when both of these girls of yours were mere toddlers, still learning how to use their feet – and, in Kylie’s case, her wings – and yet here they are, pleasuring one another, showing their love for each other in a way you never expected them to, and right before your very eyes. But you’re not going to stay a spectator.

          When Laya closes her eyes and lets her head roll back as she moans, you use the chance to slip through the door, lock it behind you, and approach them. Laya’s desk in the corner of the room has a series of pencils and notebooks resting atop it, yet another amenity courtesy of Kylie’s trips to Tel’Adre, and the west wall of Laya’s bedroom has a collage of masterful, colorless drawings on notebook paper taped against it, including a few drawings you’ve never seen before—but now’s not the time to admire any of that. You kneel beside Kylie and make your presence known by unstrapping her bra and releasing her perfect tits, and when she feels the straps pop, she turns to you and gives you an unsurprised smile. “Hi, Daddy,” she says softly, before leaning in and greeting you with a kiss to your lips. Did Kylie already realize you were watching them? You wouldn’t put it past her. Wily thing.

          “Daddy!” Alaya yelps when she looks down and notices you, and she jams her legs shut as her eyes bulge. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I was just—”

          “—Shh, it’s alright, Laya,” you hush her gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetie. Kylie’s done well. I’m just here to help.”

          “I didn’t put my fingers in her,” Kylie tells you obediently. Smart girl. She knows exactly what it is you want the first thing inside Alaya to be, and it certainly isn’t a finger.

          “I know, sweetie,” you nod, and you give Kylie another kiss, this one much deeper, and you hold her neck with one hand and grope one of her feathery tits with the other as your tongue makes love to hers. You can taste her sister on Kylie’s tongue, and the thought of it has your cock aching in your trousers. From a pussy to one tongue to another, all in the same loving family. You keep your kiss with Kylie short though, and you soon pull away and turn your eyes to Alaya, Kylie doing the same.

          You grab Laya’s thighs, and she doesn’t fight you whatsoever as you gently push her legs apart. “There it is,” you whisper as your smile widens, your eyes affixing themselves on Laya’s teen pussy, which is now blooming wide and overflowing with her bubbly lust. Kylie sure did get her turned on. That’s good. This’ll hurt a lot less for Laya now, and that’s in no small part thanks to Kylie. She’s a good sister.

          “Laya’s got such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she, Daddy?” Kylie asks as she rests her head against your shoulder, smiling with you, joining you in gazing into the beauty of her little sister’s cunt.

          “She sure does,” you nod as you put your thumbs to the lips of Laya’s cunny and spread it just a bit wider. “Just beautiful.” You reach down and grab Laya’s pink panties from the floor, and as you touch them, you realize that they’re slightly damp from her lust. You hold the damp spot against your nose and draw a long breath, filling your lungs with her scent. It’s light and musky, not wholly pleasant, but wholly satisfying. “Such a great smell too,” you say with a sigh, and when you hold Laya’s panties to Kylie’s nose, she gladly takes a deep whiff of her own, closing her eyes and shuddering at the smell of it. “How does it smell?” you ask Kylie, smiling at her.

          She opens her eyes and turns to you. “Feminine,” she whispers.

          When you and her turn to Laya, you find her eyes still bulging, but not with fear like before, now they’re wide only with awe and disbelief. She can clearly hardly believe her eyes, seeing her father and sister so comfortable with enjoying the most intimate parts of a person’s body, seeing how effortless it is for you and Kylie. It can be effortless for Laya too, but it’ll take work, and she’ll need help. Thankfully, she’s got two people who love her to death right here in this very room, ready and eager to give her that help.

          You put your hands onto Alaya’s thighs and lower your head, and you can feel her flesh tense as you bring your mouth closer to her waiting pussy. You peer up at her with softness in your eyes. “Don’t be scared, sweetie,” you whisper. “I’ll make you feel good.”

          “Daddy’s better at it than me,” Kylie says behind you. She’s not wrong. Kylie might have a natural talent, but you’ve been going down on women for years longer than she has.

          Your and Kylie’s words seem to calm Laya, as you can feel her thighs slacken and soften a bit. You push her legs open a bit wider as your lips near hers, and with her pussy spread open and blooming like it is, you can easily see that most of her tunnel is of course still shielded by her hymen. It’s untouched and unsullied, worn thin and widened only from the process of aging. You must’ve seen that thing damn near a hundred times now, from girls of all ages and races, but it’s still not any less thrilling to see. It’s difficult to explain it, but to just see a girl’s purity in her flesh, and to be able to tear that purity away and mark its owner as yours . . . there is nothing more erotic.

          “Do you like it?” Laya asks you softly.

          “It’s beautiful,” you immediately answer. You bring out your tongue and press it against the fur of Laya’s taint, just below her cunt, before slowly running it upwards, brushing the flat of your tongue over the hot flesh of her pussy from bottom to top, from her still-pure tunnel to her ultra-sensitive clitoris, soaking your tongue with the overflow of her pussy’s sour nectar. Laya gasps when you finally slide over her clit, but when you finally do, without mercy, you firmly press your tongue onto it, burying her little bud under the blissful heat and moisture of your tongue, and Laya gives a loud moan as she keels forward and grabs the back of your head, not to push you away, but to pull you closer. “And it tastes even better,” you say with a quiet chuckle before quickly returning your tongue to her.

          You spend a couple more minutes eating out your timid girl, all while she squirms and moans in delight, but her pleasure isn’t your priority, not right now, not today, and as much as you love Alaya, you didn’t come here to please her. It’s time to refocus, but before you can move on from the appetizer and onto the entrée, there’s one more matter at hand that still needs to be put to rest.

          You pull your tongue from Alaya and return it to your mouth, where the fluids of her pussy can mix and mingle with your saliva. You rear back your head and put your hand on Laya’s flat, furry tummy, and you slowly slide it up towards her breasts, until your fingers touch the bottom of the right cup of her pink bra. “Can you take this off, sweetie?” you ask her, though you have a feeling you already know what her answer will be.

          She meekly shakes her head, but she’s not courageous enough to actually say the word.

          “Why not?” you ask.

          “They aren’t pretty,” she says somberly.

          “Yes they are,” you assure her.

          “You haven’t seen them,” she says.

          “I don’t have to see them to know they’re pretty,” you counter.

          She shakes her head again. “You’re just saying that.”

          “No, he isn’t,” Kylie tells her.

          “Kylie’s are prettier than mine,” Laya mutters.

          “That’s not how this works, Laya,” you tell her. “No one’s prettier than anyone else. There’s no favorites here, not with my daughters, alright?”

          She gives a self-calming sigh. “Okay,” she says.

          “Take it off, Laya,” Kylie says, a gentle command, right as you’re about to say the same.

          She reaches beneath herself and unhooks the straps, but she leaves you the honor of pulling her bra away, and you’re more than happy to do it for her. When her furry breasts are finally free, you quickly slide your hands under them and cup them gently. They’re definitely the smallest of any grown girl on your farm, probably a B-cup, and there’s not much flesh to them, but they’re perky and shapely, a delight to your gaze and to your touch.

          “They’re amazing,” you whisper as you thumb each of her pink teats.

          “Really?” Laya asks.

          “Really.”

          You lean down and take one of Laya’s nipples between your lips, suckling her gently, giving her that extra bit of convincing that her breasts are no less enjoyable to you than any of her sisters. Laya starts moaning again as you suckle her, but your lust is burning now, your trousers bursting, and you’re finished with any and all foreplay. It’s time.

          You pull your lips from her teat and rear back. You begin stripping out of your clothes, and Kylie takes that cue to do the same with her pants and panties. Kylie knows that if you strip in her presence, then more often than not, she ought to do the same. “Lay with her,” you order Kylie, and you send her on her way onto the bed with a sharp spank to her tight butt. Kylie snuggles up against Laya and showers her with kisses to her cheek, maybe solely out of excited love, or maybe also to prepare her for the unavoidable pain of what’s to come. Laya’s eyes lock onto your thick cock, and there’s anxiety in her gaze, but it doesn’t stop her from spreading her legs as you climb into her bed and position yourself over her, jabbing your hands into the bed on each of Laya’s sides, propping yourself up with your arms as your crotch sinks between her splayed legs and your crown nears her cunt. She gives a full-body twitch when your cockhead finally prods into her pink pussy, yet her legs stay wide, maybe not eager to accept your manhood, but at least ready. Her sticky-wet cunny makes your cockhead shine with moisture with just that brief touch, but there’s a lot more where that came from. Her pussy will have your cock soaked wet from head to base by the time you’re done.

          You lean down and take Alaya into a soothing but short-lived kiss, and when you rear back, you gaze into her eyes. “Just relax,” you tell her. “It hurts worst the first time.”

          “Okay,” she whispers, nodding.

          “Are you ready?” you ask.

          She nods again.

          Finally you ease your hips forward. The moistness of Alaya’s wet pussy lets it yield easily around your prick, first swallowing your swollen crown, and then inch after inch of your shaft as you spear through her hymen. Laya tenses from the sharp, pinching pain – you can feel it from the tight clenching of her pussy – but your and Kylie’s words of advice, “Relax,” prompt her to calm herself and let her muscles slacken, and as soon as she does, you pick up your pace, thrusting quick, pushing your cock in and out of her hot, snug cunt at a ruthless pace, clapping your balls into her little furry butt. There’s no reason to take things slow. Better to get the pain done and over with.

          “It hurts,” she grunts.

          “Shh,” Kylie hushes her, giving her cheek more kisses. “You’re okay.”

          Alaya’s teen pussy grips you tight, snuggling every inch of your length that you push into her, and, blissfully, your flared cockhead is where you feel most of the pressure. You quickly lose what little control you had over yourself, and you ease your weight down on Laya as you focus all your energy into the muscles of your loins, driving your hips into her crotch over and over, taking your mouse-girl with fast but deep thrusts that have you draw out until your crown is all that still stays snuggled in her cunny, only to swiftly spear yourself back home and sheath all of your cock that you can. Laya’s a close, snug fit, but the wetness of her drenched cunt let you push through without problem. It’s a perfect hole to pleasure yourself with.

          “You’re mine, sweetie,” you whisper to Laya as your eyes turn upwards from her wet, squelching pussy, taking care to sound more comforting than commanding. “And you’ll always be mine.”

          She nods.

          “Who loves you, sweetie?” you ask.

          “You, Daddy,” she answers.

          The erotic symphony of your groaning, Alaya’s pained squeaking, and the clapping of your balls soon gets Kylie too hot and bothered to stay an idle observer. She lifts one of her sizable, feathery breasts to her mouth and takes her pink nipple between her lips as she starts suckling herself and gulping her corrupted milk, squeezing her tit with her hand to strengthen the flow, and she lowers her other hand to her crotch and thrusts two of its fingers into her wet, hungry cunny. You can’t help but briefly consider switching to Kylie and pushing your cock into the snug, welcoming pussy that it so often – almost daily – calls home, maybe even while sucking her other tit and drinking your fill, but you decide against it, for now.

          This might actually start being a problem in the future. Deciding which of your lovely daughters you ought to fuck silly. But it sure as hell isn’t a bad problem to have.

          You’re not able to weather the pleasure building in your loins for much longer, and it’s only when you feel your gut clenching that you remember you need to decide on a different hole for your seed. Still thrusting, you turn and look to Kylie beside you, and that question of yours is immediately answered. “Kylie,” you groan, struggling to find your breath. Kylie drops her tit from her lips as she turns her head, and she looks surprised to hear you ask for her, as she’d probably expected you to finish inside Alaya, but when you pull out of Laya, Kylie still obediently spreads her long legs for you as you reposition yourself onto her.

          You swiftly bury your cock into Kylie’s snug slit, and she locks her legs around your hips and drapes her arms over the back of your neck as you lie atop her. “Let it out, Daddy,” she coos to you with a slow, sweet nod as you piston your hips into hers, your member violently forcing apart the walls of her tunnel. “Let it all out.” She clenches her cunny on you, letting her tight pussy shower your cock with pleasure. It’s no mystery that Kylie loves when you finish inside her, and you’ve sure done it often enough for her to have gotten good at maximizing your pleasure, squeezing her walls around you while you cum, using her pussy to suck out every drop of seed that she can. The friction of her hot, squeezing cunt has you firing off in just seconds, twitching and spurting your thick seed into her, painting her womb white, making it sticky with your cum. Kylie giggles happily as you groan, positively overjoyed by the act of her father dumping his load into her pussy, but when you press your open lips onto hers and take her into a tonguing, open-mouthed kiss, her giggling is silenced, and she settles instead for throaty, passionate moans.

          After you thrash out the last of your load into Kylie, you pull out of her spunky-white pussy and rear back. You just relax there on your knees for a moment, letting your singing-with-pleasure flesh calm down and go quiet. After you’ve gathered your breath, you lean down and give each of your sweet girls a kiss – and give Kylie’s perky tits a loving, jiggling slap, which draws a giggle from her – before you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand to your feet.

          “Daddy?” Alaya speaks up as you start redressing. “Was I bad?”

          “Of course not, sweetie,” you assure her as you glance at her. “Why would you ask that?”

          “Why didn’t you finish inside me?”

          “Don’t worry about that, sweetie,” you answer, shaking your head. “That isn’t your concern, okay? It doesn’t mean you were bad. You were great.”

          Kylie runs her hand along Laya’s thigh. “You were amazing,” Kylie tells her, and that gets Laya to smile.

          “Can you stay, Daddy?” Laya asks, pouting as she looks to you.

          It would be a good idea to stay here with Alaya, to give her a warm body to cuddle with after being deflowered, but Averie and Natalia still need you, and you can’t let Laya hog you to herself. Besides, there’s another person here in the room that can substitute for you just fine.

          “I can’t, sweetie,” you tell her, and there’s true remorse in your voice. “I’ve got a lot to do today. But Kylie will stay with you, won’t you?”

          “Of course,” Kylie says as she puts her arms around her little sister and hugs her close, and Laya sighs as she returns her hug and snuggles with her.

          You swiftly finish gathering your things and clothing yourself, but before you leave, you lean over the bed and give each of your sweet daughters two more parting kisses. “Bye, girls,” you whisper.

          “Bye, Daddy,” they whisper back in unison.

          “I love you, Daddy,” Laya says.

          “I love you too, sweetie.”

          You halt for a moment at the door and turn your head to them. “Oh, and, Kylie,” you begin, looking to her. “Don’t forget to clean up.”

          “I won’t,” she says, grinning, and she dips her finger into the mess of cum in her pussy as you turn away and slip through the door and leave the house.

          Midday is gone. The sun is on its downward path in the sky as you leave Amily’s home. It’ll be sunset in a few hours. That’s one mouse-daughter down, but there’s two more to go, and you’d like to have the hat trick done today. Have to move quick. You turn to the north, the direction of the lake, and you take off in a sprint.

          You’re at the lake just five minutes later, not even an eighth of the time it would’ve taken you if you walked, and you’re not even winded, not even having broken a sweat. You’re in the best shape of your life, and it isn’t close. How much of that is from the Lethicites?

          The green grass turns to soft, cream-colored sand at the beach of the lakeside, and, except for the downward incline into the clear, blue water, the beach is very nearly flat, dotted only by the occasional rock, some short, others tall. Just ahead of you, Kian and Averie are standing just inches from where the water ends, with fishing rods held in their hands and their lines cast out into the water.

          Watching them from afar, you let your mind float out of yourself and project it forward, until it reaches your son. Kian, you say, and you can feel him flush with fright from hearing another voice in his head, but when he realizes who it was that just spoke, his fear fades.

          Dad?

          Reel your line in and come to me, slowly, you tell him. It takes some effort to project yourself as far as you are, and without any physical touch to act as a beacon or catalyst, but you’re more than strong enough to manage it without discomfort. I’m behind you, you explain. And don’t tell Ave.

          Kian starts reeling in his line, and as he does, Averie turns her head and talks to him, but you’re too far to hear her words. Kian says something back, and when Ave looks back to the lake, Kian turns his back to her, sticks his fishing rod into the sand, and starts towards you.

          “What’s up?” he asks when he’s standing with you.

          “It’s time,” you tell him solemnly. “Give your sister and I some privacy.”

          “For how long, thirty seconds?” he quips, and you both chuckle together.

          “Ten minutes sounds better,” you say to him. “And no peeking.”

          “Gross,” he says with a shake of his head, still chuckling. He definitely doesn’t have your taste for incest. He gives your shoulder a single pat before turning and striding off, down along the beach.

          You start creeping towards Averie, careful not to make a sound, until you’re there and upon her, standing right behind her, your chest just mere inches away from touching her back. If her tail wasn’t resting limp at her feet, it’d be touching you.

          “Ave,” you say, but before Averie can look to you, you put one of your hands against her throat – not choking her, just holding her – and take the fishing rod out of her grip and plant it into the sand with the other. Once you’ve tossed it aside, you slip your hand up her shirt and under her bra, your fingers soon finding one of her pert, furry breasts as you grope and squeeze her.

          “What—what are you doing,” Ave stammers.

          “Exactly what you think I’m doing,” you whisper into her ear.

          “Kian is . . . he’s . . .” she can’t find her words, her thoughts scrambled by your forceful groping of her breast.

          “He’s gone,” you assure her, still whispering. “I’ve got you all to myself.”

          No need to take things slow. You know your girls well. You know that, just like sweet Kylie on her first time, Averie wants you just as bad as you want her, and she’s not going to give you any amount of bashful resistance like Alaya did. Ave’s a tough girl. She doesn’t need you to be gentle. She doesn’t want you to be.

          A moan escapes Ave’s mouth when you squeeze her tit, and she presses herself into you, nuzzling her back into your chest, eager for your aggressive affection, and you’re happy to give it. You shift your hand to her other delightful breast and fondle it just as lovingly as you did the last, until you feel her nubby teat stiffen as it flushes with hot blood. Her lashing mouse-tail unconsciously whips back and forth across you, battering your crotch, giving your cock that last need of stimulation it needs to stir from its slumber. A happy accident. For that reason alone, you’ll never have a problem with tails.

          “Do you like it when I play with your body?” you ask, as though there’s more than one possible answer.

          “Yes,” she whispers, mewling and whining with arousal.

          “You’re my furry little toy, aren’t you?”

          “Yes, Daddy.”

          You take your hand from Averie’s throat and pull the tie off her hair, un-binding her ponytail and freeing her brown locks to tumble over her shoulders. Then, without warning, your hand shoots downwards, leaving Ave’s breasts to make its way down her tight, toned stomach. Though you can’t ever see her abs beneath her fur, you can certainly feel them, and they’re tight and rock-hard. But you don’t spend much time admiring her fitness, and your hand soon leaves her shirt and slithers under her shorts and panties, sliding down her warm, furry crotch. You find her mons soon after, and Ave moans again when your fingers finally find her cunt. It’s hot and sticky against your fingers, already worked up, already hungering for a cock to fill it.

          “You’re wet,” you tell her, grinning. “Why is that?”

          “I—” —you steal your breath from her by flicking her clit, and she tenses against your chest.

          “Because you want me,” you answer for her. “Bad. And your little pussy just can’t handle it. Isn’t that right?”

          “Yes,” she whimpers.

          You circle your finger within the folds of her cunt, teasing her hot vulva as it moistens more and more. “Whose pussy is that?” you ask.

          “Yours.”

          Without using your hands, you turn Averie’s head gently up and to the side while you crane your neck, and when your eyes lock, her mouth finds yours as you kiss. Your kiss soon turns deep, your tongues meeting and mingling as your girl welcomes her father’s loving embrace. You don’t stop diddling her needy twat as you kiss her – though you’re mindful not to actually dip your finger into her tunnel – and as you kiss, Averie reaches behind herself and puts her arm around your neck, holding you closer to her. “Daddy,” she whines between kisses. She needs you, and she needs you now.

          You break your kiss. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” you whisper, still meeting her eyes. “I’ll give your pussy what it wants.”

          With that, you tear Averie’s shirt and shorts – using more than just your hands – before then doing the same with your clothes. You press your bare body into hers as your weight forces her down onto the soft sand of the beach, laying her flat on her back. Her legs open for you as you plant your knees just below her, but before you bring your cock to her cunt, you first briefly stand straight on your knees as you spread her pussy-lips with your hand and lay your eyes on her hymen, the sight of which only serves to make your lust boil even hotter. Satisfied by her virginity – which you never doubted she still possessed – you grab your shaft and prod against her pussy with your cockhead, which is still somewhat moist from Alaya. But you don’t run yourself into Ave just yet, and you let your crown rest against Ave’s blooming flower as your hands dart upwards, where they quickly close around her beautiful breasts. They’re stunningly perky, thanks in part to her fitness, and they’re big enough to bounce lewdly when you slap them. You grab her nipples and give them a light twist as you pull them outwards, and her breasts jiggle when you release them and let them return to rest, all while Averie gasps and moans, her arms extending outwards, her legs spreading wider. She wants you inside her . . . but you want to hear her beg first.

          “You’re my bitch,” you tell her. “And bitches beg. So, beg.”

          “Please fuck me, Daddy!” she pleads. “Put it inside me, please.”

          You smirk and chuckle. “What are you?” you ask.

          “Your bitch!” she cries out, nodding furiously.

          You thrust your hips forward, pushing your cockhead through the lips of Averie’s tight pussy, tearing her hymen as your shaft follows suit through her tunnel, until you’re buried to her hilt and she’s filled to her brim. Her eyes bulge as her snug pussy struggles to hold your thick cock, but you don’t give her any chance to get accustomed to you. You ease your weight onto her and press your chest into her pert breasts as you thrust into her at a good, pussy-pummeling pace, clapping your body against hers as you ravage her and claim her cunt as yours. If she’s feeling any pain, she’s weathering it masterfully, because despite as hard as you’re ruthlessly abusing her teen pussy, there’s no hint of discomfort in the breathy moans she’s airing from her hanging-open mouth.

          You push off of Averie and prop yourself up by your arms as you take her pussy, fucking her almost exactly like you did with Alaya. Ave reaches up and grabs your shoulders, holding you while you thump her just a little bit further into the sand with every forceful thrust. “Harder, Daddy,” she begs as she looks into your eyes. “Fuck me harder.” You quickly grant her wish and dominate her as hard as you can, breathing quick, breathless groans as you ruthlessly drive your cock through her, plundering her cunt for all it’s worth. She’s a tight fit, like all her sisters, and her pussy snuggles and coils around your length in the most pleasurable of ways as your pecker pushes and pulls within her.

          “Damn that’s good pussy,” you grunt as heat and pressure builds in your loins, voicing the thought as soon as it comes to your mind. It’s not exactly eloquent, and you’re not telling Averie that for her sake, but it’s just the plain, honest truth. Her pussy is just as good to your cock as all her sisters’ pussies are, a perfect, hot, wet home to welcome your penis and hug, squeeze, and snuggle it until the pleasure’s just too much to bear, and that moment is soon upon you. Your gut begins churning and your nuts begin tightening, your seed rolling and roiling in your balls. Gods do you wish there was a pussy available that could pleasure your cock while you cum and take your seed without any risk of bringing forth a litter of children, but that isn’t the case, and another one of Averie’s holes will just have to suffice.

          You pull out your cock and rise to onto your folded knees, and with a shove by unseen hands you spin Averie around and bring her head towards your cock. You grab a fistful of her hair, but before you can voice your command to her, she’s already astutely leaning forward and taking your pussy-slicked cock into her mouth. She bobs her head up and down as she begins sucking you off.

          “Good girl,” you say as you run your hand affectionately through her hair. “Use your tongue too, sweetie.”

          Heeding your words, a sudden tendril of bliss slithers up your spine when you feel Ave’s long tongue begin pleasuring your cock with quick licks and laps. Her efforts are almost immediately rewarded with your seed as the heat of your orgasm flushes through you, from your loins outwards. Ave flinches when the first spurt arrives, but when your salty seed starts layering her tongue, she soon starts swallowing, gulping your substantial, long-lasting load without objection, and she never has more than a few strings of cum in her mouth at any one time. You push Ave’s head downwards, and though she gives a single coughing gag, she doesn’t fight your forceful hand as you keep your dick pushed deep into her maw. The scorching-hot pleasure empties your lungs of your breath, and as you sigh, Ave sighs with you – breathing through her nose – and her tail lashes about happily as you shoot the last few spurts directly down her throat, bypassing her mouth and sending it immediately on its descent to her cum-filled stomach.

          When your legs give out, you fall back and plop your butt onto the soft sand. Feeling utterly satisfied and drunk with pleasure, you ease yourself down onto your back and stare at the cloudless sky. A moment later, Averie lies on your left side and slips under your arm as she takes you into a hug, her bare breasts squished into your side. It’s a simple thing, but you’ve always liked that feeling, having a woman’s breasts pressed against your ribs. It’s your favorite way to sleep whenever your bed isn’t empty, which is just about every night now. There’s something primally soothing and enjoyable about having a nude woman embracing you, especially when you’re lying on your back. You can’t really put your finger on it, it’s just . . . pleasant.

          “I love you, Daddy,” Averie whispers, and she leans upwards to plant a kiss on your cheek.

          “I love you too, sweetie,” you say, running your hand up and down her hip.

          As comfy as it is to lay in the cool sand snuggling with your warm, deflowered girl, Averie’s only the second of the third, and you’ve still got one more mouse-daughter left to go. You stand up and help Averie onto her feet, and when you start clothing yourself, Averie soon does the same, though you’re sure to give her firm, furry ass an affectionate spank before she does. The standard ‘you did well, sweetie,’ gesture. Actions speak louder than words, after all. Well, most actions. When you’re both dressed, Averie grabs her fishing rod from the sand and turns to you, smiling. “I should get back to fishing,” she says, gesturing behind herself with the rod.

          “Yeah,” you agree, and Averie gives you another quick kiss – this time to your lips – before turning away.

          As she leaves your side, you turn and see Kian arriving. Perfect timing. He’s curiously struggling to zip up the jammed fly on his shorts as he walks to you, and the slackened, relaxed look on his face isn’t exactly what you’d see from a young man who simply took a leak. He did much more than that.

          “Shark-girl,” he explains, seeing the confusion in your eyes. “Figured if you were getting laid, I ought to do the same.”

          Raping shark-girls already? Kian’s moving up the chain fast. But you never doubted he could. He’s your son, after all. “Have fun?” you ask.

          “Yeah,” Kian says, and after he finally manages to get his fly zipped up, a devilish grin strikes him. “But she didn’t.”

          You chuckle. “Good to hear.”

          With that, he turns to walk to Averie, but you stop him with a sudden hand to his shoulder. “Kian,” you begin, and he turns his head, but not enough for his eyes to meet yours. “Don’t tease Ave about this. This is how it is. This is what my daughters do. You understand?”

          “I get it, Dad,” he says quietly. “It’s not my business. I won’t bring it up.”

          You pat his shoulder. “Good.”

          After that, Kian trots up to Averie and plucks his fishing rod out of the sand, eager to defeat his sister in their who’ll-catch-more competition, and he curses when he sees Averie yank back on her rod after getting a bite.

          It’s a quick sprint back home, and you make it back to your house right as the sun is sinking below the horizon. You look back and forth, wondering where Natalia could be, but your question is answered when you look to your farmhouse door right as Nati’s back end – mostly her fat ass – disappears through the doorway. Perfect.

          You swiftly jog up the steps of the porch and follow after her, and you’re able to catch the slowly-closing screen door before it shuts. Again, down the hall, you catch only a glimpse of Nati as she disappears through another door, but this time, it’s the door to your bedroom. Curious.

          You push open the door and step inside. The bed’s been made and its sheets and blankets changed, and the window’s curtains look like they’ve dusted – none of which was your doing, and there’s no telling which of your wives happily took the duty – but Nati’s nowhere in sight.

          You hear the door shut and its lock flip down behind you, and right as you turn around, Natalia drapes her arms around your neck and hooks a single leg around your waist, grinding her crotch into yours, taking you into a passionate, erotic embrace, and when you look down to meet her cosmetic-shadowed eyes, she plants her lips onto yours and takes you into a deep kiss, her tongue eagerly searching for – and soon finding – yours. Almost with minds of their own, your hands dart immediately to the big, rounded cheeks of Nati’s fat ass, sinking your fingers into her soft, abundant flesh, which is covered only by her thin, lewd yoga pants. What else would you touch first? Her ass is nearly the biggest you’ve ever seen, and best of all, it’s attached to a youthful, nubile girl that adores you and wants nothing more than you for to pound it, hard.

          She pulls her mouth from yours and puts a soft, furry-fingered hand against your cheek. “Saved the best for last, Daddy?” she asks with a girlish giggle, delighted by your groping of her booty. Her lustful gaze softens a bit then, and her confident smirk lightens. “Mm . . . you’re such a stud, Daddy . . . why did you make us wait so long? You could’ve fucked me so many times already,” she muses in singsong, her words sweet and honeyed, doing her damnedest to get your cock rock-hard and to arouse you into a daughter-deflowering fury. And it’s working. You don’t even utter a word in response, too mesmerized by Natalia’s shapely bubble butt to speak.

          “You like my butt, don’t you, Daddy?” Nati asks, giggling again, happy to see you so in love with her body. “It’s the best, isn’t it?”

          “It’s amazing,” you utter gently. Your desire to get more gratification from her ass overtakes you, and you tilt your head to the side and peer downwards, watching intently as your hands squeeze and knead the overflowing flesh of her big, bountiful booty. What an ass.

          “Kylie’s your favorite, isn’t she?” she asks you, a tinge of jealousy suddenly coloring her voice.

          “No,” you answer as you look to Natalia’s eyes again. “I don’t play favorites, Nati.”

          “It’s okay, Daddy, I understand,” Nati says, her hand on your cheek shifting as she slides her thumb over your bottom lip. “Kylie’s sweet . . . she’s pretty . . . she’s sexy. I bet she gives you good pussy,” she adds with a slow, understanding nod. “But I’m sexy too . . . and I’ll give you the best pussy you’ve ever had.”

          It’s odd how Nati is the one leading the conversation, that she’s the one asking the questions. She’s . . . prepared. She’s probably been thinking of this moment for a long time. Poor girl. She’s been wanting her Daddy for so very long, waiting so very patiently. Thankfully – for her and you both – she doesn’t have to wait any longer.

          You grab Natalia’s hands and backpedal a few steps, until you budge into the lounge chair in the corner of the room, and you hold Nati as you let yourself fall backwards into it, bringing her with you and having her sit in your lap, her legs planted on each side of yours. Not needing your suggestion to do so, Natalia grabs her shirt by the shoulders and tugs it up and off her head, and her brassiere-concealed breasts fall with a hefty drop when the shirt releases them. Nati giggles when she sees you stare at her tits with lust in your eyes, and she quickly reaches behind herself to fiddle with the straps of her bra, and when they’re released, she pulls it away and tosses it to the floor. Her breasts are large, the largest of her mouse-sisters, no smaller than Kylie’s motherhood-swollen D-cups, but they’re also amazingly shapely, almost like perfect, round orbs of flesh, and her pink teats are hot and hard, standing tall enough to be clearly visible as they poke out from beneath her purple fur. Natalia cups her hands beneath her boobs to better please your eyes, but they’re naturally pert, and they don’t need any help to face forward and stand perky. When she reads the silent desire in your gaze, she leans forward and pushes her breasts into you, and you gladly take one of her hot teats between your lips. The stiff nub only gets harder as your lips squeeze it and your tongue flicks it, and Nati gasps a high-pitched moan from the pleasure.

          Your hands find the waistband of Nati’s pants and violently yank them down, taking her panties with them, freeing her big, furry butt with a fleshy jiggle. With no barrier left to get in the way, your hands finally grab Nati’s ass by her soft, bare cheeks as you grope her with lust and hunger. Nati gasps and whimpers as you defile her body and mark every inch of her flesh with your hands, but she says nothing, uttering no words, and that needs to change.

          You let her teat slip from your lips. “You’re not talking,” you note, your face still nestled against her heavy breasts.

          She rears back, taking her breasts from you, letting your eyes meet again. “What should I say?” she asks quietly, searching your gaze.

          You idly raise your hand and make a spinning gesture with your forefinger, and Nati gets the message right away. She spins her body around, turning her back to you, and arches her back, raising her perfect ass before your eyes. You run each of your hands along the heart-shaped curve of it, and Nati encourages your fondling by shaking her backside, waving her purple-furred rump from side to side. It’s too enticing not to rough her up a bit, so you swat her ass with both hands, abusing her furry cheeks and making them jiggle and wiggle, and Nati gives cute, short gasps as the fat of her bum dances for your eyes.

          It takes you a moment to regain your thoughts, having been damn near entranced by your daughter’s massive ass, but when you do, you remember what you were doing. You slip one of your hands through the deep crevice of the crack of Nati’s ass, and she gasps again when your finger brushes against her needy, burning-hot pussy. “What do you think you should say?” you ask, your finger running along the wet lips of her virginal flower. If Natalia’s been thinking about this moment so much, let’s see if she doesn’t need your help finding the words you want to hear.

          “My . . . pussy,” Nati whimpers, but the words sound less like an answer and more like desperate begging.

          “What about it?” you inquire, smirking, and her butt twitches as you continue teasing her moist cunt.

          “It wants you,” she tells you. “Feel how wet it is? That’s all you, Daddy,” she says as she turns her head and looks to you.

          “Whose pussy is it?” you ask, glaring at her.

          “It’s yours,” she nods furiously. “Take it, Daddy, please,” she says. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

          You don’t want to wait anymore either.

          You lean forward and hook your arm around Natalia’s waist, and she gives a delighted squeak as you effortlessly lift her and stand to your feet, keeping her held against you with more than just the strength of your arm. You carry her over and toss her gently onto the bed, and she immediately kicks off her pants before lying on the flat of her back and spreading her legs for you, eager for you to fuck her, but she’s in the wrong position. That would be an awful waste of her . . . assets. You grab her and flip her onto her stomach, and she doesn’t need your help to raise herself onto her hands and knees. You get into bed with her, but you don’t align your cock with her ass just yet. First you pull apart the cheeks of her butt and lean close, getting a good look at her pink pussy, and of course, you find her hymen still guarding her untouched tunnel. Such a beautiful sight. Despite being the curvaceous slut she is, with a body so stunning, she’s a virgin, and her virginity is yours to take. Like her sisters before her, Natalia’s body is yours to claim. Curvaceous or slender, timid or confident, or anything in-between, Natalia, Averie, and Alaya are all your girls, and they all belong to you. And best of all, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

          “Put it in, Daddy,” Natalia begs you.

          You release your grip on her cheeks and let them return to their resting state with a light jiggle. You grab your prick and scoot your knees forwards, and you and Nati sigh together as the tip of your cock finally touches your last mouse-daughter’s teen, virginal cunt. Her hymen doesn’t fight you as you ease your hips forward and tear through it, your thick crown slipping easily between her wet lips, your cock soaking itself in your daughter’s moisture as it pushes home and slides against her walls.

          “Daddy,” Nati whines, moaning, and the pleasure leaves you no choice but to moan with her.

          Gods is she hot inside, almost like a fucking oven. The heat and the moisture is what you feel most. She’s hot, but she’s also gushing wet, and you’ve no doubt that even if you pulled out right now, your cock would already be dripping with her pussy’s fluids. With the heat and the wetness, it’s a wonder there isn’t steam rolling out from her crotch. Her cunt grips you snug as you slowly start thrusting yourself through her, and you grab the curve of her flared hips for leverage as you claim her deep. Damn, Natalia is a bona fide goddess. Just the whole package from head to toe. A curvaceous bombshell and a tight pussy. She said she’d give you the best pussy you’ve ever had, and fuck if she isn’t close.

          You quicken your pace and start thrusting hard, clapping your hips into Natalia’s fat butt, her cheeks jiggling as you smash into them, and the good, hard fucking has Nati’s moans growing louder. “So good, Daddy,” she says, and she whips her head to flip her long hair up and out of her face. “So fucking good.” She peers over her shoulder and gives you this cute, meek look with her eyes. “Is it good for you?” she asks.

          “Yes, sweetie,” you grunt, and in case your words aren’t enough to convince her, you make your thrusts harder, slamming into her ass, pummeling her pussy with your cock, and you give her rump a series of sharp, loving spanks that make Natalia squeak in a mixture of pleasure and pain. She likes being roughed up, and that’s good, because you’ve got plenty of aggression for her. “You like being my little slut, don’t you?”

          “Yes, Daddy,” she moans.

          A particularly deep thrust catches Natalia off guard, and her arms briefly wobble before giving out. Her upper body slumps down onto the bed, but her knees stand pat and stay put, and her back arches as she takes on a much more pleasing stance for your eyes. Head-down, ass-up. You move your grip from her hips to her ass and sink your hands deep into her cheeks, your fingers almost disappearing into her sea of furry butt-flesh. This is the one. This is the angle to finish it.

          Nati seems to sense when you near your end, maybe from your quickened breath as you groan, or maybe from your quickened thrusts as you pound her. “Cum inside me, Daddy!” she begs. “Fill my pussy up, please! Empty your balls in me!”

          “I’ve got a better idea,” you mutter. When the burning pleasure hits its peak heat and your final strokes are upon you, you pull your cock from her pussy only to push it right into the hole above it, stuffing your stiff, turgid prick into her virginal ass in one smooth stroke, and Nati cries out as her puckered little star is forced to swallow your thick, pulsing cock. Her tight rectum fights you every inch of the way, but her sloppy pussy’s wetness suffices well enough for lube, and you’re able to hilt yourself into her bum without too much difficulty, clapping your hips into her round rump one last time. With the tight sheath squeezed around it, it takes some effort for your cum to work its way up your cock, but it won’t be denied, and your member shudders and twitches as it dumps its load into your sweet, sexy girl. You groan loudly as your orgasm blanks your mind, your thoughts wiped out and replaced only by the total bliss of Nati’s tight ass as it squeezes you and sucks out your seed.

          When the last of your pleasure leaves, Natalia’s bum is filled with your warm, white gift, and you pull out and collapse beside her into a near-numbed heap. Nati flips onto her back and wraps you in her arms and, of course, presses her bare, bountiful breasts into your side. “You’re such a stud, Daddy,” she whispers, closing her eyes as she rests her head against you. “I love you, Daddy.”

          “I love you too, sweetie,” you whisper back.

          Well, that’s it, then. Your mouse-girls are deflowered. They’re women now, in every possible way. The only thing left to officially make them your daughter-wives is to have them swear the Five Vows to you, but that can wait a day or two. There’s no need to hurry.

          Gods, coming to this farm was the best decision you’ve ever made. It’s perfect here. No problems, no worries, just family and pleasure. It’s paradise. And nobody in Mareth could ever change that.

          A harried pounding comes from the door. “Daddy,” a voice calls out. Kylie’s voice. “Daddy, are you in there?” she shouts hurriedly, pounding again.

          “What do you need?” you ask.

          “You need to come outside, Daddy.”

          You lean forward. “What’s wrong?”

          “There are people here.”

          Natalia leans forward now too, and she looks to you with a worried expression.

          “What kind of people?” you ask.

          “Demons.”

          You’re out of bed immediately, throwing on your clothes. Natalia moves to stand to her feet and join you, but you put your arm on her thigh and stop her. “Wait here, sweetie,” you whisper to her. “I’ll take care of it.”

          She nods.

          Kylie’s waiting for you on the other side of the door as you slip through it and shut it behind you, and you and her swiftly start down the hall.

          “What kind of demons?” you ask as you walk to the front door.

          “Imps, I think,” she says. “But not normal imps. Big ones. Vapula and Kian are talking to them at the edge of the farm. The biggest one said he wanted to talk to you. Kian sent me to get you.”

          You and Kylie burst through the front door and hurry down the porch steps.

          “Is everyone else in their houses?” you ask her as you briskly walk down the dirt path.

          “Yes.”

          You’re at the edge of the farm a minute later, where a tense confrontation seems to be occurring. In front of Vapula and Kian – who are both armed and stand tall, straight and wary – is a pack of six large, crimson-skinned imps.

          All of the imps are shirtless, with muscular, hairless chests, but they all thankfully aren’t nude, and while some have the good grace to wear black trousers, others wear simple, immodest loincloths that do little to hide the shape of their large manhoods. Sprouting from each of their backs are vast, blood-red wings, but unlike the wings of Sophie, Kylie, and Vapula, the imps’ wings are featherless and fleshy. Bat-like. The imps’ eyes are red, beady and demonic, the ‘whites’ of their eyes solid-black. They’re all bald-headed, but they all also have black facial hair, whether it be coarse stubbles or beards. The five imps in the rear stand in a line, some with their arms crossed, others with their hands on the hilts of daggers, swords, or clubs, but their stance seems more precautionary than aggressive. You don’t see any desire to kill in their eyes, but they’re demons, and they’re almost certainly ill-intentioned. The sixth imp stands in front of the others, a few inches taller than his underlings. He’s one of the three of them wearing pants, and his chest is undeniably the most defined of his brethren. His chin bears a pointed, black goatee, and his jaw and nose are strong and angular. His eyebrows are sharp and incline downwards, giving him a near-constant look of cunning connivery and vile malevolence. You immediately recognize his face. He’s a lot bigger than when you first met him – now no shorter than you – but there’s no mistaking who this imp is. Zetaz.

          His gaze turns to you when you step forward between Kian and Vapula, his eyes perfectly level with yours. “Been a while,” Zetaz says, and his red eyes come alight with devious excitement as they finally look upon you. His voice is somewhat deeper, and it now has an ethereal sound to it, almost shimmering in the air when it leaves his lips.

          “You look different,” you note flatly. “Sound different too.”

          He chuckles and nods. “I think we’ve both done a lot of changing since we last met,” he muses. “At least I still use my name. You know, when I heard that a man who calls himself ‘the Father’ was making waves in Mareth, I’ve got to admit, you were the last one I would’ve figured to be that man. I mean, you? Really?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “You’ve fallen far. From champion to reaver. From a man who guards his village to a man who rapes his own daughters.”

          No one falls for the bait. You, Vapula, Kian, and Kylie all stand silent, unflustered, unfazed.

          “I don’t rape my daughters,” you answer flatly.

          “But you do lay with them, don’t you? This harpy here,” Zetaz begins as he points to Kylie, who stands beside Vapula, on your left, “She’s your child, isn’t she? She’s got your eyes. So, tell me, ‘Father,’ how many eggs has she popped out for you already? Three? Two? Or maybe just one? Don’t get me wrong, I understand it. You’re corrupted. We both are. But you can’t have it both ways. There’s no gray area here. You can’t fuck your daughters and still think you’re a good father. It doesn’t work like that.”

          “I keep my family safe,” you counter him, still not raising your voice. “And I give them love. That’s being a good father.”

          Zetaz laughs loudly, and the imps behind him titter. “Some might think his farm of your is more of a cult commune than any kind of safe haven from demons,” he says.

          “What is it you want, imp?” you ask him brusquely.

          “Fine, fine, to the point then,” he says as the imps behind him cease their snickering. “I want two of your mouse-girls. Those mice-sluts are a rare sight in Mareth these days. It’s only fair you share a couple of them, considering you’ve got four.”

          He knows the size of your family. He’s probably had some of his brethren watching you.

          “I want the one with the big ass,” he adds, a half-smirk crooking around his lip. “I don’t care which other one you pick. You can even give me the mother as the other one, if you’d like.”

          Kian turns his head and looks to you, but you don’t bother meeting his gaze. He has nothing to fear.

          “And if I say no?” you inquire.

          “Then I come back with twenty more imps and take everyone,” Zetaz answers. “Every woman and every girl. This one here,” he says as his gaze again turns to Kylie. “This one would be my men’s favorite real quick. Sexy young thing. I think I’ll give you a makeover first, girlie. You won’t be needing to fly anymore once you’re ours. I think, first, I’ll pluck every feather off your body, one by one, and then, when you're bald and pink like a human, I’ll lop off those wings of yours. Then I’ll string you up in chains and keep your legs spread while my men take their turns with you. But I’d be the first to fuck you, though. Just to make my seed was what fertilized you.”

          “I’ll kill you,” Kian snarls, his fists clenching on the hilts of his daggers.

          “Kian,” you say as you hold your arm into his chest. “Stop. He wants to get a rise out of us.”

          “Such long, pretty legs,” Zetaz continues, and he and his underlings’ eyes all run up and down Kylie’s figure, admiring her, practically drooling over her, and it’s enough to make your brow hot and your temper flare, but you keep your cool. “I bet you’ve got a tight pussy between those long legs,” he says, now looking to her crotch. “But it wouldn’t stay tight for long. You’d birth me some strong sons, girlie. You’d birth ‘em fast too. Maybe I’ll even take you as my personal pet. Make sure my sons are the only ones you’ll be pushing out.”

          “You’re just going to let him say that awful shit?” Kian barks at you.

          “They’re just words, Kian,” Kylie says calmly, staring right back at Zetaz, stoic and unafraid. She’s too strong a girl to let a man like this give her any fear. You raised her better than that. “It won’t ever happen,” she adds.

          “It won’t happen so long as your daddy shares his toys,” Zetaz growls, his smirk suddenly twisting into a scowl. He couldn’t keep himself from losing his temper forever. He’s too used to getting what he wants. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

          You shake your head slowly. “I’m not giving you any of my girls. That’s not happening. Not now, not ever.”

          “You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t you?” Vapula speaks up, glaring at Zetaz with unbridled scorn and disgust. “You might’ve made yourself taller, Z, but you’re still a little fucking twerp at heart.” She gives a quick tilt of her head your way. “You think he’s the only one that’ll make you regret coming here? You made a big fucking mistake.”

          It’s comforting to see Vapula get so upset on your behalf. Succubus or not, she’s invested in this farm, in this family. She’ll defend it just as ruthlessly as you will.

          “Just kill him,” Kian tells you. “Take his fucking head off.”

          If only. The part of you that wishes you could break Zetaz in half certainly isn’t a small one. But magic in Mareth is a strange thing. It’s based on the intentions of the user, and it has very clear limitations. The only way it can be used to directly affect another being – affect their flesh directly, and not simply their clothes or their hair – is with arousal. The only way to harm flesh is with whitefire. Mareth magic is rooted in lust and debauchery, not violence. You can’t just snap someone in two. It takes more finesse than that. Well, finesse or fire. But there’s no guarantee that whitefire would neutralize Zetaz quick enough to stop him from being able to react and retaliate. No, attacking him here would be too dangerous. You’re not worried for yourself, but you are worried for Vapula, Kian, and Kylie. As capable as they all are, they could still get hurt. It’s a bad idea, plain and simple. Violence might be the answer later, but it isn’t the answer right now.

          “You’ll regret not making this easy,” Zetaz tells you. “This was me offering to keep this clean. Now it gets messy.”

          “Get the fuck off our farm,” Vapula snarls at him.

          “You should listen to the lady,” you say to him.

          Zetaz gives a final hmph before turning away and taking flight. His underlings soon follow suit, and they all disappear into the horizon not long after.

          No one breathes a sigh of relief when they’re gone. The air is still thick with the tension.

          “What do we do?” Kian asks.

          “I don’t know,” you answer. Words you don’t often say.

          “Hubby!” Sophie’s voice calls for you from far behind you, almost out of earshot. “Come quick!” she yells. “Kylie too!”

          Gods above, what now? Can this day just end with some peace and quiet?

          You, Kylie, and Kian all hurry back to the center of the farm, as Vapula stays put to continue her watch. Sophie’s waiting for you all at the top steps of your house’s porch, her bare belly sporting an early egg bump. “It’s happening!” she squawks, her half-sized wings flapping as she claps her hands in excitement. “Kylie’s egg is hatching!”

          Kylie’s face slackens, her eyes widening, but she’s right on your tail as you hurry inside with Sophie in tow.

          “In your bedroom,” Sophie says to you. Kian follows you to the bedroom door, but Sophie turns and stops him with a hand to his chest. “Only us, baby,” she says to him sweetly. “The little one will get scared if there’s too many people at the hatching.”

          Kian looks disappointed, but he nods and heeds his mother, leaving you all to continue without him.

          Inside your bedroom, you find Rebecc holding Lillian in her arms as she watches Kylie’s egg, which sits atop your bed, with that old pink blanket spread out beneath it. Gods is the egg big now, though it certainly has to be to be able to house the toddler-sized harpy within. After Sophie, Kylie, and you file into the room, Rebecc heads out the open door, leaving you to be with your harpy family. As Sophie said, it’s best not to have too many people around the egg when it hatches. Kylie sits on the edge of your bed beside the egg and puts her hands against its lower sides, steadying it as it lightly shakes, while you and Sophie stand and watch. “Get your boobs out, Kylie, your girl’s gonna wanna drink right away,” Sophie tells her, speaking cutely and singsongly, already getting in the spirit to welcome a new harpy toddler.

          Kylie immediately follows her mother’s advice and sheds her sweatshirt and bra, bringing out her milk-swollen breasts, which you’ve no doubt have already rejuvenated despite her drinking from them earlier. There was nervousness in Kylie’s face just a moment ago, and though you’re sure her heart is still racing, she’s now smiling from ear to ear. She’s exhilarated, as you are, and how could she not be? She’s had so long to prepare herself for this moment. She rubbed the egg as it swelled in her belly, she gritted and beared the pain as she birthed it, and she cuddled it and kept it warm as it grew. Her motherly emotions and instincts have only intensified over these past weeks, and now they’re finally coming to a head.

          Gods, it’s been too long since you last had a little harpy flying around. Kylie as a child was some of the most fun you’ve ever had, and though you aren’t sure anything will ever be quite like that magic of having your first child, you’re still thrilled to welcome your newest daughter.

          Kylie gasps when the first crack appears on the egg, but another crack follows soon after, and then another and another, until the surface of the egg is more fractured than not.

          “Can I help her?” Kylie asks, her eyes darting up and down the egg.

          “Sure, baby,” Sophie nods.

          The shell is a lot more brittle now than when it was first birthed, and Kylie easily pokes little holes into it with sharp jabs of her finger. She tries to pull the top of the rim off, but it still holds, and so she finds the as-of-yet largest hole and presses against its side with her finger, widening it. She flinches in shock when a wing suddenly shoots out from it and extends to full-breadth, and the color of it stuns you. It’s not golden like its mother or grandmother, but instead black as night, with feathers like that of a raven. It’s astonishing to see, but it’s gorgeous. And it’s full-sized too, as Kylie’s was, and you’re thankful that Sophie’s undersized wings seem to be a trait that didn’t carry on. You look to Sophie at your side, and her face seems just as surprised at the color of the wing as yours. You don’t think she’s ever seen a black-feathered harpy before. Your girl will be the first.

          Kylie helps wear down more of the egg, until it’s battered enough for one of her girl’s talons to pierce it as a fluffy foot bursts through, again, black-feathered. Then, at last, it’s ready, and Kylie grabs the upper third of the egg and pulls it free with a series of shrill cracks. When the last of her cage is gone, the other girl’s wing joins the first in spreading free, finally stretching her extremities for the first time in her life. She’s healthy, as far as you can tell, and she’s a beautiful sight, with brilliantly black feathers from head to toe, with forearms and lower legs layered with fluffy down, as all young harpies’ limbs are. But her jet-black hair is strangely short, unlike Kylie’s, which was shoulder-length when she hatched and grew even longer very soon after. She sits on her bottom with her legs spread, and as your eyes briefly look to her crotch, you notice that between her thighs is a . . . that’s . . . that’s not a girl. That’s . . . a boy. A harpy boy.

          After he shakes off a few pieces of the egg, your boy’s curious, brightly-gray gaze sweeps across the three other faces around the room, but all he finds are wide eyes and slack jaws, even from his own birthmother. But he’s unfazed, and he smiles as you looks over you all. When he looks to his birthmother again, his eyes catch on the pink nipples of Kylie’s bare breasts, and his black wings flutter happily as he crawls into Kylie’s lap and takes her teat into his mouth, and he suckles noisily as he eagerly drinks his first meal.
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Our Father