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Pairs of Pumpkins Episode 8: Pridemoon's Precipice

By Jess Faulks

The Grand Bridge of The Allicans was the tallest in the land, the deck a quarter of a mile above the water. Built a thousand years ago by a people who later vanished, it rose over an ancient fault line that formed a walled river. At the eastern edge of the continent and the sea, the bridge was the pride of the bustling sprawl of Stusport.

Where the river bisected the massive, urban hub on one axis, the towering cliffs of the edge of the continent split it on the other. There was High Town and Low Town but each also split into North and South Town. From either side of the Low Town's dock-laden delta, the bridge was a magnificent sight and often the only reminder there was much more city above them, obscured by cliffs and perspective.

Up in the High City, on a cold and cloudy afternoon, the spectacle had long faded for one, visiting, vixen adventuress. A long walk that got longer every time, every step reminding her how sore her body was.

The bridge was more crowded than usual and sometime that afternoon, Behemoth, the largest, tallest sailing ship in the Stusport fleet, would leave on a diplomatic mission and sail under the bridge on the way. It was a rare sight to see come and go, she'd heard. Not only was Behemoth Stusport's largest, but also one of the biggest sailing ships ever built, folks had eagerly explained to her. She hadn't asked. She didn't care.

Wrapped in her hooded cloak, the adventuress, Portia Pridemoon, shambled over the uniformly laid, unusual-colored bricks. That smoothness was a welcome departure from newer, rougher, cobblestone paths that paved High Town, South, where she'd rented a room at an Inn. The ground was wet from earlier rain but the stone of the bridge dried off uncommonly fast. Whoever the Allicans had been, they knew how to build. Interesting for such a thing to be in Stusport. She had come for several reasons but tourism was not among them.

Foremost, she had told herself again and again, was the rescue of her children. Hundreds of children. Over a thousand? It was more than she'd counted. She had no desire to know the exact number. It would only make it worse.

Each of them had come from an egg magically stolen from her, without consent and until recently, without her knowledge. Every one of them was logged in the heavy, leather-bound ledger she carried in an improvised sheath, strapped to her lower back. It was the only means she had to track them down: the species of their fathers, the names of their buyers and where the buyers lived.

Three had been adopted by Stusport residents: Bowen, son of Portia's stolen egg and Donor 26: another arctic fox, had been adopted by the family of the Harbormaster. Sienna, son of Donor 38: a red fox, adopted by another brothel owner. And then there was Jasper, the adopted son of the Lord and Lady of Stusport itself. He was the son of Donor 17: Bjorn Vasiljev. Like all the donors, Bjorn's seed had fertilized her egg without either of them present, in some unknown, magical procedure. Unlike the others, Bjorn was Portia's brother. Jasper was inbred.

The notes in the ledger rarely had any information on the children beyond conception and purchasing but between the lines and over the years, there was some suggestion that the wizard, Zarron had pursued experiments around inbreeding for a few years then stopped. It seemed something had gone wrong with what the log originally called "The Purebloods" but she didn't know exactly what.

Portia wretched every time she remembered and this time was no exception. Bootsteps on the stone bridge fell out of rhythm before she veered aside and grabbed the railing for support, half collapsing against it.

Life was never supposed to have gone this way. A fatefully barren womb and ambitions of adventure ensured a child-free adulthood she'd been grateful for. A storied career was to be her legacy, only to discover some sick wizard had made a mother without her knowledge, wiping her memory clean of the theft. The inbreeding only cemented in her mind how deranged the wizard was and what she would do to him if she ever found him.

A mother and father nearby gathered their cubs and ushered them away from Portia, eyeing her with fear while the mother stifled a deep cough with her forearm. She was the sick one? To them? Nothing about her appearance confirmed how right they were.

Zarron's perversion and cruelty motivated the other reason to come to Stusport before anywhere else: her best chance to find a cure for her condition was in a city this size. A condition that a week before, she blamed on Zarron himself. A condition to make the once-strong and independent vixen lose herself, sick with disgust and self-loathing.

In an all too quick and overwhelming series of events, she had an impossibly strong attraction to a young fox named Joseph and against her better judgement, seduced him. The sex wasn't just intense; it was life-changing, even had the events that followed never occurred. But they had. With him still tied inside her, she discovered the reason for her lifetime of infertility: her eggs had been stolen and used to breed legions of children, including Joseph! She'd seduced her own son! It felt like a trap, set up to ruin her.

As far as she could tell, her children became Zarron's industry: every child had been ordered, bred and sold as a product and Portia resolved to save them all. She was off to a good start but bringing children with her, even older teenagers, would be a liability in the adventure business.

Two weeks ago, she'd left her first five, rescued children all in the city of Zentia with a trusted friend, hoping to focus on the rescuing of the three here.

Instead, she found it easier to focus on herself, trying desperately to escape her spiral of depravity so she might actually be a good mother when she found them. Her failures to do so grew increasingly spectacular.

Sex had become as pleasurable as a handshake but she kept trying despite what she'd learned of her condition. She'd hoped in Stusport, there was a chance to pinpoint her condition and do something about it. If Bowen, Sienna, Jasper, and all the others down the road were to have a chance, she needed to uncloud her mind and fix this.

The Shaman, Samir

The different kinds of magic were all jumbles of uninteresting nonsense and Portia was generally averse to the whole concept but her condition sounded a lot like a curse. Perhaps the anti-Magic charm she wore to protect her from spells left her vulnerable to curses, especially if they were in her blood?

Curses weren't a favored magic anywhere on the mainland and the best shamans, in her experience, were foreigners. Low City, North, the rough and tumble industrial docks would be the place. She set off there on her second day in town to fact-find and cavort among sailors and travelers.

She drank countless pints over casual inquiries of the kind of people who could help her but the rowdy docks were also a comfortable reminder of what her life used to be. She fell into it willingly, occasionally being recognized or otherwise, getting involved in telling stories and other one-upmanship.

The interest of so many foreign men over the nights that followed was impossible to ignore, even as she pursued leads of a shaman. She sucked seventeen cocks and indulged three bent-over-a-barrel-in-a-filthy-alley fucks that would've disappointed her even in easier days. None of it was necessary to milk information out of drunken sailors, but they were old habits, amplified by current frustration. The attention of men remained a drug, even without physical pleasure in sex. By the fifth night, she'd tracked down the man said to be the best Shaman in all Low Town.

Samir was a towering wolf from somewhere exotic, a place she'd traveled once long ago. His body was chiseled and handsome, with long dreadlocks and a thick accent. Assured of his discretion, she explained her predicament as carefully as possible.

The wolf's interest in her was obvious from the start and he delighted in the revelation of an insatiable, foreign woman. He offered to help, with the admission that his methods were a bit primal for some but Portia followed him back to his dockside shack, fully aware of his intentions.

The wolf wasn't a selfish lover nor an inexperienced one, and he ran himself ragged, hoping like so many men before had, to be the one to fix her. Of course, he didn't and eventually, exhaustion got the best of him. With a panting chant in a language she didn't recognize, he dramatically climaxed and threw a handful of powder over their combined, rocking bodies. Quickly, he drew symbols in it, with her back as the canvas.

"The bad news..." the winded wolf spoke after some time, his weight tugging at his fist-sized knot inside her. Clawed fingertips delicately reached over her breasts to fondle the anti-magic amulet hanging from a necklace. "...is that this wouldn't stop an old curse in your blood. The good news is that at this moment, there are no curses on you or your family. If you have no curses and magic cannot influence you, then whatever has happened is affecting your body or your mind. You should see a healer."

The Healer, Pranav

Having a next step refocused her. Samir offered a recommendation, and she investigated herself the next day but everything pointed to the same healer, one they called when any of the nobility were injured or ill. That night she visited his modest home and found the older tiger named Pranav, orange but greying. Another accent made his words more compelling, and she might recognize from her travels, had it not been long tamed by time. The hour was late and he answered, clearly prepared to turn her away but after drinking in an eyeful of the vixen's incomparable cleavage, he invited her in.

Portia explained her predicament and was undressing soon after, at his request. Little time was wasted before he inspected every inch of her naked body with firm fingers, tracing contours of muscles and bone. It was professional at first but turned seductive once he'd explored her completely, his broad nose also drawing lines in her fur.

"I'd like to try. As part of the evaluation, of course."

"Of course," she smiled and turned toward him, draping arms over his shoulders. The vixen been far from selective over the last two months and not terribly selective before then but both Samir and Pranav were the kind of potent, magnetic males that any straight woman with desires would have considered.

Sex with the tiger had been like watching a master in action, making love with someone else. His every move was sensual and erotic, a coiled spring of power and violence wrapped in smoldering sensuality. The touch of his hands and mouth was considerate and keenly pushing boundaries but her body was off. He was a blazing inferno trying to set align soaking, wet wood. Pranav lasted for what must have been hours, stoic and steady while heavy brows betrayed his concern.

"It's okay. Just finish," she assured him several times before he obliged, collapsing in exhaustion and despair. Cheek to cheek, the vixen held him in the aftermath, and turned away enough to keep him from feeling her tears.

"I don't understand. That's not happened in decades. Since I was a boy." The tiger sounded just as broken now as she was.

"I warned you, Pranav. It's me," she consoled him, stroking his back.

After an unsatisfying nap and a needed bath, they sat across a desk from each other, once again clothed. "You've suffered no injury, Portia. Your body and mind are perfectly sound and you are very healthy. To not have the sensations of pleasure from sex is not unheard of but it usually comes with the lack of desire, and you are in no small supply of that. For the joy of sex to just stop? That sounds like magic to me."

"Perhaps this wizard charmed you back when you were a teenager? Before you had your amulet? A dormant enchantment, waiting for the right trigger perhaps? I don't know anything about relagite but it's possible that it acts as a shield for magic but not a cure for existing conditions. You should see an Enchanter. The Lord of Stusport uses one named Maren. He's a stag who lives here in High Town, South, nearer to the palace. Tell him I sent you and that I promised you would be seen."

Portia left with sullen thanks and was a half a mile back to her inn before she even considered that if the Lord of Stusport's healer knew the Lord himself, he might also be aware of her son, Jasper! It was too late to ask now and maybe better that he didn't know she was looking.

* * *

Portia was used to tuning out unwanted attention. Her ivory fur turned more heads the further south she ventured but always more remarkably was the way her breasts preceded her. They threw off her silhouette in the worst of conditions, draped in a cloak in the dead of winter. When her sculpted, leather breastplate was less concealed, they nearly ripped men's eyeballs out of their skulls.

Today, cloudy and cold was somewhere in between and she was wrapped in her cloak enough to not command too much attention. Around her, a celebratory excitement was in the air, anticipating the passing of Behemoth under the bridge and it had folk both excited and largely oblivious. Those whose eyes she did catch, saw something else: the sullen, shambling presence of a broken vixen.

She walked on, to the apex of the bridge.

The Enchanter, Maren

Portia bathed that night at her inn and visited Maren the Enchanter the next day. From his home and neighborhood, he was either much more wealthy or much less humble than Pranav and the opulence on display from the moment he opened his front door would've made some nobles of lesser cities jealous.

Maren was a handsome stag, fit and younger-looking than her but that meant little. She'd long ago learned that age was more fluid for the magically-inclined and favored, or those who could afford them. His demeanor was the practiced arrogance of too much time around nobility and his obvious interest in her charm made her more guarded than she'd been with the others. Relagite was a metal so rare it was a rumor to many, but he seemed to recognize hers.

"If you take off the charm, I can blanket dispel any current enchantments affecting you. If there is old magic and we cancel it, we'll have no way to know unless we test your condition afterward." She noticed he was already half-hard in his wizard robes when he made the suggestion, staring at her chest.

"The dispel... spell. It only negates enchantment? No other effects of magic?"

Maren grinned knowingly, moving his eyes up to hers. "No, dear. Any other magical effects or other secrets that changed you, but aren't active enchantments will remain in place."

The charm seldom came off her neck often since she acquired it. The vixen was distrustful of wizards since her early days of emancipation and there was solace in having an absolute defense against magic. This time, she was desperate and obliged.

With the necklace off, he cast a Dispel on her or at least he claimed to. It that felt like he'd done nothing at all. The stag moved in then, with eager hands and muzzle, kissing and groping the vixen needfully and with her help, undressing her of her armor.

Portia knew better than to get her hopes up but went through the motions with him anyway, as she'd done so many times before. Sex with him was a demonstration of experience, pride and precision. More selfish than Pranav but not so much that he saw after some time, it wasn't working for her.

"This is quite a humbling experience," he said, panting and hunched over her, still hard and deep inside her. "I'd like to try a spell on you."

"What kind of spell?"

"It makes you orgasm."

"Do it!"

Maren rolled them over, pulling her to sit upright, atop him, lifting the busty vixen like the proud, prow of a ship. He chanted an incantation under his breath then made a gesture with his fingers before they flung at her, diving into her thick, arctic fur.

The vixen's skin was electric in an instant and a fire swelled from within to overwhelm her. Like an explosion, it was sudden and unnatural the way it came yet here she was, orgasming with a stranger. She howled out in delight and rode through, her athletic body grinding hips on his, driving herself down on her sorcerous lover. Hungry, cervine eyes latched on the effect her enthusiasm had on her massive, jostling breasts, his composed demeanor for the moment fallen to giddy and boyish.

At that moment, the weight of everything fell away. Finally, guilt-free relief and a remedy to her perverse ailment! The magically-induced orgasm was unusual in its sudden onset but in her drought of pleasure, it was satisfaction. This was something she could live with. When she'd all but gone limp atop him, he rolled her over and with a few, hard bucks of his hips, finished inside her with a groan of relief, before collapsing over her. She fell asleep in his bed, the longest and best she had since leaving Marina and the rest of her family in Zentia.

In the morning, she woke in his arms to a hungry kiss and groping, eager hands that soon guided her rump over her ankles. The stag lubed himself up from the bedside table and nudged her pucker with his erection, waiting for approval.

"Just make me cum again."

He was less gentle with her ass for his eagerness to be inside it and he quickly pounded away selfishly but with his magic, he made her suddenly cum again, just before he did, after not much time at all. The second time was every bit as good but having anticipated now, it's false perfection was more obvious and unearned.

Later, in bathrobes over breakfast, Maren's explanation was more disappointing .

"That was not a common spell, Portia. One I only know from youthful skullduggery and one frowned upon by most Enchanters. There were mischievous, night-casting sessions in my student days." This was the closest she'd seen him to embarrassed. "I can make you a few scrolls, but they'll only work when you take off that charm. If you're prepared to give that up, I would pay handsomely."

"Scrolls? So I'll read a scroll and I'll cum?"

"Yes."

"Read a scroll while I'm fucking someone?"

Maren pursed his mouth. "Or by yourself. It'll work any time."

"That's the best you can do?"

Shoulders fell and the tall horns on his head made obvious the tilt of it. "If you're planning on staying in Stusport..."

"I'm not."

The proud Enchanter's sigh was almost humble and responded with composure. "I can make you three scrolls and send you on your way. Magic isn't your problem, Portia. You were on the right track with a healer. Try a wizard who specializes in Life Magic. They tend to be more creative than closing wounds and curing sickness."

Zarron practiced Life Magic. It was so obvious.

"Drucius is the Lord consult on Life Magic Affairs but only because Dame Darcy has a bit of an unprofessional reputation. I don't think that will bother you and she's much more experienced. She'll definitely see you."

* * *

At the center of the bridge, Portia stopped and slumped against the thick railing. The design was thoughtful, like everything about the bridge though the height of the guard rails suggested that the the people who built it averaged shorter than most modern folk. She had observed earlier in the week that taller species preferred to walk down the middle.

She looked east, over the sea and ran her hands over her chest. Ever since her earliest taste of freedom as a runaway and aspiring adventurer, they had made her so proud and confident in her sexuality and eventually, a token of adversity she'd overcome to be so capable. They were her pride and signature. No one forgot her when she was the one to save their village.

Now they were bulk. Trouble. An advertisement that she was exactly what people thought she was. Once delighted in being underestimated for her build but now any onlooker who assumed the worst of her was seeing the tip of the iceberg.

The Life Wizard, Dame Darcy

Portia left Maren's in the morning with both a pit in her stomach and the fires of resolution. She went straight to the High Town Home of Dame Darcy, the Life Wizard, not far from the stag's but she was turned away at her door by a wispy, young houseboy.

"Our Lady is busy today. Come back tomorrow, clean and rested."

His commanding tone for his age was off-putting but she obliged and spent the day wandering the city aimlessly, Maren's seed soaking then eventually drying in the fur of her inner thighs. That night at the inn, she bathed again and went to sleep early for a long but unsatisfying rest.

Crossing the bridge back to High Town, North in the morning, she observed how the homes of the affluent clustered at the skirt of the Lord's Fortress for protection. The towering Keep was easily seen from afar and when she did, she thought ofJasper, somewhere inside those walls. Was he treated like a slave or a son? Did she need to be rescuing them all?

At the front door of Dame Darcy's, Portia was greeted and welcomed in, not by the houseboy but by the Dame herself. She wasted little time in explaining her predicament.

"I appreciate this is a delicate manner, Miss Pridemoon. Nothing you have told here will ever leave this room." Dame Darcy, the Noble, High Town Sorceress of Life Magic was a silken-voiced, middle-aged, kangaroo woman. She sat back in a fine, custom chair that cradled her thick tail where it split her violet robe. In her cross-legged lap, she flipped through an old looking tome with one hand, plucking a grape from a fruit bowl on her blanket-covered desk with the other. Her eyes gestured to the bowl then the vixen, offering.

Incense wafted through the welcoming room. Curtains and cloth of warm reds, pinks and whites covered nearly every hard surface, soft in the late-morning light. There were couches, chairs and cushions abound, the entire space designed for comfort and safety. An altar was at the far end of the room but were it not so high off the ground and narrow, she'd assume it was a bed.

Portia gave a small shake of her head at the offer to a disappointing shrug from Darcy, who continued. "You want me to evaluate your body and blood for some condition that gives you these desires. And I will, though what you describe isn't nearly as dire as you made it sound."

"Really? I had sex my own son. That's a crime punishable by death in some Kingdoms."

"The barbaric ones. He was old enough to know what he was doing?"

"Barely."

"And it was an accident?"

She paused. "Yes."

"How could you possibly have anticipated having children when you've never given birth? Have you considered forgiving yourself?"

"If I could just move on from it? Maybe. But I don't think I can," the vixen sighed and slumped back in her chair.

"Because you liked it."

The vixen's darted back, narrowing. Guilty.

"Your body doesn't care like your mind does but guilt isn't magic, Miss Pridemoon. If it were, there'd be quite an industry for dispelling."

"What happened with my daughter was not an accident."

"Forgive yourself. Move on."

"I told you, Dame Darcy: there's no pleasure anymore in sex but I crave it even more. Like some pit that can never be filled. I've had sex with over forty men in the last two months. Young and old, experienced and not. Only my own son and my own daughter gave me any pleasure. How do I move on from that?"

The kangaroo gave a nonplussed shrug. "Well, if they also like it, you could accept and enjoy it?" Portia growled and Dame Darcy took a moment to consider." You've exhausted your options for curses and enchantments and that led you to me. So I have to ask: was there anything special? About sex with your son?"

"He was amazing. Like nothing ever experienced. And he's young. A virgin! I've known many skilled lovers but never one so natural."

Dame Darcy inhaled deeply. "Yes. Indeed. You're getting turned on just thinking about him."

Portia collapsed back into her seat and erupted into tears. "Please. Help me."

Dame Darcy frowned and dipped her muzzle. "Of course, Miss Pridemoon. I will scan you with my most thorough magic. A ritual that will map your body, blood and life essence."

At the Life Wizard's instructions, Portia stripped and laid back on the altar. The relagite charm was removed and tossed into the pile of her clothes and armor, in one of her boots, to find it later. Dame Darcy started to chant while Portia stared at the complexities of the ceiling, trying to calm her mind. The kangaroo's hands moved over her, somewhere between a massage and hypnosis. Time melted away. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep?

"I am finished with the ritual. Open your eyes."

She did, to find the matronly kangaroo restraining an excited smile.

"Your blood is very potent, Miss Pridemoon. Or do you still go by Princess Vasiljev in private company?"

The excitement Portia started to build, melted instantly. "I promised you full confidentiality. You should have told me but after a look at your blood, there's obviously something remarkable here. That combined with these breasts? For once, you're lucky that your family keeps you all so covered up and repressed. Not many people remember that the Vasiljev bloodline was once known for their prodigious endowments. If the Pale Lands weren't so isolated, they'd perhaps be famous for them."

Portia held her reaction as best she could. None of it made sense and the kangaroo's smile cracked more broadly.

"Of course, no one would tell you. The Pale Lands have been one of the most culturally oppressively places in the land for hundreds of years but before your Grandmother, Inga took the throne, the royal family didn't have to hide under piles of furs, like they do now. You probably know she was only of the age of twelve when she took the throne. So much power to give to a shy and developing teenager. Inga had all the windows removed at Snowcourt Castle, so it'd always be freezing inside."

"I'd never heard that. How did you know?"

"Because she went to extreme measures to convince people it was an old tradition and not a new one. You have to be pretty old and have some connection to The Pale Lands to have heard those stories."

Portia's forehead crinkled and her head tilted aside. "You don't look so old."

"There are a number of ways to thwart the entropy of time, Miss Pridemoon," Dame Darcy replied before her polite smile spread slightly wider. "But you already know that."

The vixen's brows raised to their widest yet before the kangaroo continued.

"Life magic tends to come with fewer strings than most other options." Dame Darcy reached out to pet her forehead and repeated with a whisper in her ear: "full confidentiality." Her touch was calming and unsubtle in it's influence.

Darcy straightened herself out again. "Your body is incredible but your blood is the real story: a vast river, frozen-over: impressive on its own but there is so much beneath the surface. Latent power. Magical affinity. You must have some aversion to the magical arts and sciences to carry that charm but had you studied it, you'd be a natural. No wonder that this wizard who you won't name wanted your bloodline. He knew you more than just royal.

"The Vasiljev family has long ruled the Pale Lands but there are old and forbidden stories that you weren't always so chaste and pure. That your endowments weren't some kind of test or curse but that your kind had been bred over the generations to be that way. Perhaps even that you are the watered down version of your lineage's true legacy?" The kangaroo stopped and considered her next words. "Portia, I am not going to tell you that inbreeding is in your blood specifically but it is almost certainly in your history."

The vixen laid back, her mouth dry and her stomach shallow and the kangaroo comforted with a hand on her head again.

"Perhaps this reunion activated a latent trait of your breeding. A predisposition to pursue your own kind but just as likely that you've just never been with someone so naturally, sexually compatible. Either way, this might be the way things are for you now."

The kangaroo matron frowned while the vixen withered at her words. "Again, you should consider the stigmas of such activities are more cultural than biological, both in the animal kingdom and the societies of The Folk. I don't know what your family taught you and you seem to shaken off most of their legacy but the culture of The Pale Lands is nothing short of abusive. Yours is not the only royal line to ever practice inbreeding and in some societies, it's not even frowned upon. Especially if, as you say, you cannot bear the fruit of such a pairing?"

Portia turned on her side away from Darcy and was sneering in disgust at the end of her explanation.

"These are just theories, Portia. Not necessarily truths. Your blood is powerful but written in a language that is overwhelming. There's a lot I could get wrong. I do have one other theory I would like to test with you but I will need your permission to enter your mind."

"Whatever it takes."

Dame Darcy reached out and guided Portia to lay back again. "Close your eyes, Portia." She obliged and fingers came to her temples. "Now, think about your children. The ones you've met. In order."

Strangely, it was easy to concentrate despite the duress before occurring to her that Darcy, as a Life Sorceress, might be helping. She obliged and thought of Joseph with a shudder. Then Evangeline and Anastasia, the daughters she'd only met for a moment.

"Oh... Anastasia is a sorceress? You must send her to study with me when you find her again."

There was no point in nodding. Darcy was inside her head, and she continued down the line. Anya. Edgar. Evita. Marina. Siena. Bowen. Jasper. Shit.

Portia's eyes opened sharply and Dame Darcy's were right there above hers. Strained or not, Darcy had some relation to the nobility of sorcery of Stusport, which meant some connection with the city's rulers. Jasper was the adopted child of the Lord and Lady of Stusport and she was going to steal Jasper away from his home. Dame Darcy only smiled and repeated: "Full confidentiality. A child should know their mother."

It was the firmest she'd spoken yet but landed like a blow from a pillow. The kangaroo's hand rubbed over her forehead again but a second hand landed at the warmth of her sex. The fox was already wet. "Close your eyes again, Portia."

"Think about Marina. And Joseph. What they did to you." Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling as the blood rushed around under her fur. The suggestion made her think of Joseph. The mental image of him came easily, undressed and aroused. Sucking his cock. Beneath her as she descended on him. Mounting her. Knotted inside her ass. Cumming inside her a second time, even when she knew. "The mere thought of him has you flush and ready. You're so certain this is an enchantment?"

"Are you going to test your theory or not?"

"Keep your eyes closed." Portia cracked an eye to watch Dame Darcy slip away and walk to a shelf full of jars, the kind every alchemist seemed to have but these contents were more consistent. Each contained a bundle of dried sticks or leaves, labeled with names of obscure herbs and other plants. Some she had heard of, most she had not. Darcy fetched the contents of one and brought it to a nearby brazier. The aroma was something complete new. "Eyes closed, please."

Portia obliged and the wizard waved the bundle of sticks around, wafting smoke through the room, warm and pungent until it crept up her nose like a liquid. "This is Oteek. It doesn't alter your thoughts at all but loosens the stranglehold your mind has on your perception." The vixen's body tingled with sensation and for a moment she thought she could hear her own pulse, throbbing in her ears.

"Open your eyes."

Portia did, to find Dancy no longer at the side. Standing there instead was her daughter, Marina, wearing the much larger kangaroo's robes. The half-mink daughter's brown-furred hands crept up almost unconsciously to grope her own massive, teenage breasts appreciatively. "Amazing," she smiled before she shrugged off the robe and let it fall from her shoulders.

"What are you..." Portia started to sit up but the half fox, half-mink visage of her daughter reached for her shoulders to hold her down, strength surprising for her slight build. She brought her muzzle over Portia's.

"I'm only going to say this once, Portia and then I am going to play the part: I'm not your daughter." She spoke with Marina's voice. "I want to give you this opportunity: if you're really cursed or enchanted, magic won't be deceived and you're not going to be satisfied. If it does..."

Portia was frozen and somewhere beneath the combined collision of mountainous, vixen bosoms, a delicate hand found her sex again, cupping it. The fur of her hand was soft but not soft enough. The touch was not the way Marina touched her.

"Fine."

The sorceress, now a doppelganger of the vixen's daughter, brought her other hand to Portia, rubbing up her arm and to her shoulder, claws gently tracing down the nape of her neck then up to her mouth.

"Do you smell her?"

Portia drew a slow inhale, finding her little like her natural scent but Marina perfumed herself with saffron. She insisted, even while working at the bakery. There was no saffron here. And then there was. Another inhale confirmed the perfume in her fur. Not strong enough. Too strong. Just right. How had she missed that before? The more she thought of Marina's scent, the more accurate it became until it was her, both natural and altered.

"How about now?"

The doppelganger's smile hinted at pride. Her finger drew a line down Portia's muzzle and crept down to a breast. Right as she found a stiff nipple, two fingers of her other hand dipped inside her and the vixen gasped.

Portia reached for the hand at her groin, feeling over the fur of her doppelganger-daughter 's forearm. Softer now and getting softer still. Fur was like a fine powder of volcanic ash for a moment. Too soft. No, just right. She felt like Marina. It was Marina.

Groaning, the vixen lidded her eyes while intimate fingers began to move in a more familiar way. There had only been the two times Marina had touched her, but she knew the difference long enough for the difference to fade away.

"Getting warmer..."

Marina stepped around to the short end of the altar and hooked her arms under Portia's knees before tugging her pelvis to the edge. That surprising strength again. Her frail daughter couldn't have done it but in her guise, Darcy grabbed Portia's wrists then and tugged her to sit up, face-to-face and breast-to-breast with her daughter's now perfect likeness.

She lingered with a mischievous smile before lunging in, pressing her muzzle to Portia's in a lustful kiss. A hand dove under their combined chests to touch her again, just like Marina would touch her. Waves of potential surged through her nerves. It was almost unconscious how the vixen moved her hand to sink fingers into her daughter's plush breast.

Marina pulled back, still smiling and ducked under her mother's heavy chest. The view of her was blocked but her intention was obvious and quickly confirmed: her muzzle dove in against her sex, licking and lashing with a skilled tongue. It was a move was uncharacteristically aggressive of her daughter but the touch was completely familiar. Marina's tail raised up along Portia's face and draped over her shoulder, tickling her with soft fur, trying to wag.

The room throbbed with her pulse. Time was meaningless. Tides of pleasure nipped at her body, ripe with promise. The guilt lingered in the back of her mind but she focused on the sensations. There was nothing left to identify her as anyone but Marina in the way she looked, felt and moved but her ministrations eventually plateaued, just short of climax. The rhythm changed. Her tongue was getting tired. Portia slumped and grinned, for the first time satisfied to not be satisfied.

Marina's reaction was instant: she lunged, pushing back her mother on pillows and scooting up, along her, hardly room for the both of them and their combined breasts on the altar. That incredibly soft hand was back at Portia's burning arousal, resuming at the intensity her mouth had left off at. "You're so wonderful, Mother. You deserve this," she said, staring down her muzzle. Her fingers were deft and skilled, playing her body like an instrument while her sleek muzzle kissed and nipped at Portia's neck. "Your children love you, Mother. We love you. I love you. We need you. I need you. And I need you to cum for me."

Those words. From her daughter. In this moment. She recalled the intensity with Marina previously and the wave surged. "Look at me, Mother. Look at me while I make you cum." Her daughter had never been so intense with her but the tides of pleasure started to swell. It was dark out now. When had that happened? Portia couldn't close her eyes. The touch was belligerent, knowing she was close, like water finding a way through.

"Nonononono..." Portia grimaced before Marina dove in to interrupt her. Lips met, then tongues before the mother vixen squinted and shrunk before squealing. The wave crashed over her, and she broke the kiss in her need to moan out in explosive, shameful release.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, she was finally cumming, from Marina's relentlessly agile touch, delicate fingers inside her curled back against her thumb, pressing from the outside. Not her daughter's fingers. Dame Darcy. Her whole body buckled then released, all tension melting away.

It had taken all day but she was cumming, without any family members or ridiculous scrolls. She smiled at first, a breath of a laugh but the weight of how returned with the next inhale. Her exhaustion caught up to her and she collapsed back on the altar.

* * *

"Mother?"

Portia cracked an eye open to find she'd moved. She was in a bedroom now, blurry and vague, against a wonderfully soft body. Marina was at her side. "There you are, Mother. We were starting to worry." she smiled and leaned in to kiss her muzzle. Her body was drunk with sleep but instinctively, she leaned in to meet her.

"Where'd we go?"

"To the bedroom, Mother," a masculine voice said behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see the bed extended and behind her, her son Joseph placed his hand on her thigh. He was naked and as erect as could be.

Portia tried to get up with a burst of energy and resistance but four familiar hands were too hard to pull away from.

"We weren't done yet. I've been like this for hours, waiting for you to wake up. It hurts, Mother. " He guided her muzzle from Marina's to his, pressing a kiss then his tongue into her muzzle. Portia tried to protest but his kiss melted her defenses, then his hand groped her breast clumsily once he had. "I want to fuck you so bad."

"We can't," she muttered before his tongue filled her mouth.

"Can't? Whose stopping us?" Marina lay close and reached down to Portia's sex, pressing her finger along it. "Feel this, Joseph," she reached out for his hand. "Mother's soaking wet already. It happens every time she thinks about you."

Joseph and Portia kissed, tongues dancing openly as his finger curled to push inside her, clumsy and indelicate but warmly familiar. "I'm so hard, Mother. I don't care what the stupid rules are. I need to fuck you!" His muzzle moved down her neck in nips and kisses.

"Joseph, nooooo," she protested and pushed him weakly away, but he was back at her neck, climbing on top of her and positioning himself between her legs.

"Tell me you don't want it and I'll stop," he spoke in her ear, fumbling around blindly beneath a wall of ballooned breasts, to line up his cumbersome erection against her soaking folds. He was all too eager, like boys his age were but he looked back to her eyes and her last chance to dent him. She froze.

Joseph shifted and the tense squelch of penetration followed. Marina's hand moved between them, gripping the girth of her brother with a ring of her fingers. "You feel so good, Mother! Even better than last time!"

The teen fox lunged on top of her, sinking in impatiently with his full, impressive girth until the space between their bodies disappeared. Young hands reached out, as soon as he was close enough to grope her chest, trying to restrain them while his rutting hips tried to put them into motion. The young man wasn't interested in teasing her or letting her re-acclimate to his size. He was lust-mad and desperate to fuck.

Portia's eyes were wide and transfixed on nothing, staring into the divinity of forbidden pleasure that sated her incessant hunger. She'd fantasized about this for two months and it was fulfilled. She was complete. Worshiped. Loved. On her muzzle was a self-disgusted wince but already she was about to cum.

"Make mother's big tits shake, Joseph. You know you love them." Marina purred, nipping at her neck. Joseph nodded and thrust hard, jostling the three of them and sending Portia's enormous chest into a heavy roll.

"I do!" He lurched and lunged with youthful enthusiasm, building up momentum with his mother, fur-muffled thrusts gaining dull volume. His hands moved to her hips for leverage, releasing her chest to swing with gathered inertia. "Your breasts are amazing, Mother! I can't believe how huge they are!"

All three rocked with the vigor of his eager thrusting, edging and angling his hips to best coax her for a reaction. When his skilled attention brought her to orgasm, it was quite sudden yet had seemed inevitable, melting like butter between their relentless mating. Joseph didn't slow down and she didn't deter him. Her blood was on fire with vigor.

Portia opened her eyes to find on the wall, a large, long mirror, reflecting the scene. She was mashed beneath her son with her legs in the air, in full submission to mutual lust and her arched-back poise and lust-drunk expression boasted of her bliss. Knees were help apart and his tongue hung from his jaw as he fucked with the power and rhythm of a war drummer, primal and violent in his need.

His hungry gaze bouncing between his mother's eyes, her quaking breasts and the immediate effect he could have on them. ,Her orgasm only half-waned before another one crashed over her, terrifyingly easy after such a drought of pleasure. Moreso for someone so young and inexperienced to be responsible.

The second wave hit her body harder and sharper, leaving her squealing. Entranced, she watched herself the entire time. Beside her, Marina rested her head, cheek to cheek with her mother, smiling with satisfaction. "You're so beautiful, Mother. The unbridled love of a family, unshackled from the rules of society. Such an inspiration!" Portia was too dumbfounded in bliss to reply and Marina looked back to Joseph expectantly. He nodded with a deep breath and pulled himself free of her, his slick, heavy erection almost slapping himself in the stomach.

"Roll her on her side. Get in front of her but don't block her view."

Marina nodded and helped him ease Portia toward the mirror until she was on her side, one half-flattened breast pushing the other far above her ribcage and arm. The half-mink sister came along her back while Joseph scurried up behind her, guiding his passion-slickened erection under her tail.

"I'm going to stick it in Mom's butt. She loves anal."

"Oh, I know she does. Don't you, Mom?"

Portia replied only with heavy breathing and a stunned look on her face, loose and long before tensing as he penetrated her.

Joseph gripped her hip with one hand and guided his cock with the other, the tip wedging inside her pucker then slipping in deeper with only a teenage level of delicacy. Marina watched her, fascinated. Soft fingers dove to her still-tingling sex while Joseph started to find his pace.

"Oh Mother, I've been dreaming of this since last time. Your ass is amazing!"

The daughter's muzzle was over Portia's when she whispered: "Gods, this might be the hottest thing I've ever seen. Portia Pridemoon's legendary tits shaking, from being buttfucked by her own son." She leaned in close and mashed her muzzle to her mother's in a hungry kiss. The half-mink's nose crept to her ear then and whispered: "Everyone wants to fuck you, Mother. But only your children deserve you."

Marina and Joseph exchanged looks, matching the other's rhythm and until all three moved in near-unison. Joseph's hips sent Portia's into Marina's grinding fingers while he groped and explored her, marveling continuously at her breasts and how they spilled out and quaked in all directions. For her own bulk, it was a challenge for the busty Marina to stay close for long.

It was too much between them. Brother and sister were too good, a natural team and Portia came to a third, laboriously groaning orgasm, howling out and sucking in air before crossing her legs and trembling, pushing Marina's hand away from her now overwhelmed body.

"Fuck momma's big ass, baby. Give me your hot load!" she grunted, immediately disgusted with herself yet it seemed to bring her body pleasure to even say so. Delirious, sex-drunk and exhausted, she was desperate for his release inside her.

"Not yet, Mother. We've got one more present for you." Marina guided her attention to the chamber doors whereas if summoned, a new arrival stood against the door frame in a flimsy, white robe. The figure was impossible to forget, even though she'd only spent a mere moment in her presence: the only woman she'd met with a chest dwarfing hers: Anastasia. Her second daughter.

Beyond her most obvious feature, her cripplingly large bosom, she was slightly shorter, with thick and long fur. Her hair was a bold red and cut in a bob but otherwise she was the very image of her mother, twenty years before. The robe hung strangely on her as she approached the bed.

"Anastasia!? This isn't what it looks like!" Portia squirmed but was pinned between her children, neither of whom moved for her.

"I hope it is," she cracked a smile as she approached. Was that her real voice? Had she ever heard her speak? "Roll Mother on her back."

Joseph and Marina obliged, rolling Portia over until she was laying on her back, on top of Joseph, her weight holding his massive cock deep inside her. Marina slid behind her like a pillow, laying across Joseph's chest and holding her mother in a loose hug while Portia peered over her chest, watching Anastasia climb up the bed, on all fours.

"I'm so glad you found us, Mother. Our family was meant to be together," Anastasia was close enough now that her breasts spilled over the bed, filling the space between them.

Portia had never seen anything so big, like herself but to debilitating excess. It was a wonder she could move at all. Her own chest blocked most of her view now but Ana lifted her head enough for her face to be seen. She grinned wickedly before she tucking under to nose and lick her the folds of her exhausted, sex-soiled sex.

"Mmmmm Joseph, I can smell you in here," she smiled and purred before taking a deep scoop with her tongue, parting Portia's eager wetness. From the first touch of her tongue, Portia quivered, her eyes opening wide with shock.

"How are you good at this?!" Marina was a professional but Anastasia had been raised in near isolation.

"Lots of practice, Mother." Her voice was muffled between her thighs.

"But I thought you were only raised with Joseph and Evangeline..."

"Whatever thought you just had, made you hotter." She could almost hear the smile. "You want to fuck Evangeline too, don't you?"

"Mother loves a big dick," Marina purred. "But she's so fucking gay for her daughters."

"Mother wants to fuck us all! And we all want to fuck her!" Joseph cackled and rolled his hips while Marina helped move Portia to sit upright, hands groping her. Portia was heaving and panting as they found perfect, rhythmic unison, rising with Joseph's resisted thrusts while Ana pulled back her mother's thighs, ensuring their every stroke seated her completely. The bustiest vixen of the three kept her muzzle planted through the motion, licking and lapping with bold intention.

It was too easy, sandwiched between and above them all and the climax hit her almost violently on arrival, leaving her howling and feral. Was this four now? Eyes couldn't close as she did and her hands fell to the ballooned out mass of Ana's breasts covering the entire area around them. Fingers dug in but with such size, they were more against her than around her.

Portia's fur and hair were matted with sweat now from the vigor and closeness and her moaning carried the strain of exertion by the time it started to wane. She eased Ana's head back with a gentle push.

"Oh Gods, this is insane," she panted out growing in exhaustion, jostling as Joseph didn't relent, his sack clapping on her lube-slickened asshole, bouncing her atop him. Was any of this real?

"One more thing, Mother." Ana pushed off the bed and precariously, up to her knees, towering over her mother before opening her robe. Those breasts were massive and bare but held between them was something far more shocking: a gigantic, black, canine cock, painfully hard and ready to fuck, stabbing skyward over coconut-sized testicles.

The cripplingly-endowed, teen girl beamed with pride as she pulled her bosom apart enough to let her monstrous dick lurch out, halfway up her sternum before falling, like a chopped-down tree. The massive penis made Joseph small in comparison, even as she felt him spreading her asshole wide and straightening her lower intestine.

Anastasia made almost every man she'd seen look small as that appendage came to rest, hard enough to rise despite its weight, stabbing towards her mother's breasts. It dwarfed her forearm in pelvis-shattering girth and pinky-finger thick veins made her thicker still, tight enough with surging blood to display her racing pulse.

The line between sexes was usually clear enough by appearance but she'd met, traveled with and even bedded a few lovers who presented as female while carrying a sizable bulge in their dresses. There was no way for her to know how common they actually were or weren't but in her history of partners, there had been a handful against many hundreds of males. It wasn't something she'd seen enough to ever anticipate and Portia was only slightly more disbelieving than breathless.

"You're a... how did you ever hide that thing?!"

Had the ledger mentioned this? No, she had seen entries for children whose genders were not obvious or even changed but Anastasia was definitely listed as a Female.

The bustiest daughter moved closer, filling Portia's lap with her breasts before sharing a breath. "I know you love a challenge, Mother."

Muzzle to muzzle, looking at Ana was like looking in a mirror back in time, seductive yet eager eyes staring at her in admiration. Somewhere in the collapsed mass of breast flesh, her erection was poking until it slipped in between them.

"Anastasia, it's not going to fit!"

"We both know you're going to regret it if you don't try."

"It could kill me!"

"I wouldn't let that happen." She grinned and drew back. "...but what a way to go!" She rolled back on her knees then drew back, further than most men would have to. Impossiblly huge breasts swallowed her mother's lap, and she reached a hand under it all to guide herself to her warmth. Joseph and Marina slowed to a stop behind her and the room fell silent.

Ana's hand came against Portia, gripping her own girth and holding it against her, while her mouth moved in whispered unintelligible incantations. A warmth followed, comfortable and magical, spreading through her lower torso. Wetness surged in anticipation and Anastasia eased pressure from her hips, her tapered tip parting her.

"Oh Gods, what am I doing?!" Portia rolled back her head and closed her eyes, a groan swelling from deep in her lungs, confirming Anastasia was inside her. Even the tip was huge.

"Exactly what you crave, Mother," Marina whispered in her ear, holding her shoulders and petting her hair. "Stop feeling so ashamed and enjoy it."

Portia's expression contorted in strain as the taper of her daughter's cock wedged further in while the space between their bodies seemed to barely close. "Oh Mother, it's better than I ever imagined!" She howled out and pushed in deeper still. "You're so tight, I feel like I could get stuck!"

Enough flesh compressed between them now for Ana to bring her weight down with a wince, on top of her. Her hand slipped underneath, moving to Portia's torso, hot to the touch, even through her fur. It was almost too hot but the sensation was deep and radiant, moving deeper as Anastasia's enormous erection sunk in. Soon she was beneath her navel, grinding against Joseph's cock.

Eager, teen fingers squeezed his Mother's breasts and started to rock her body, reminding her how deep he was. It made Ana tighter still, a thin barrier between brother and sister. Ana eased deeper before her hips started to bob in shallow thrusts, breasts that must have encumbered her every motion jostled lazily, hitting each other in an erratic rhythm.

Portia breathed quick and shallow. Her lungs were so full she could feel her diaphragm compound the tightness of both cocks so deep inside her and the organs they displaced. Her every nerve was touched at once with such girth compounded by whatever wizardry her bustiest daughter was doing with her hands.

Ana's every move sent a new shudder through her quivering body. "Oh Gods, Mother. You can really take it! This dick could kill a lesser woman!" Everything was getting tighter inside her, tender nerves wrapping around eager, thrusting cocks and a deeper wave of pleasure rippled from her core, like a cresting wave before a long, slow crash of release.

Portia's moan was as long as that wave, a disbelieving deflation with a guilty curl to her lip. She was helpless to them.

"I bet you don't cum so easy for all your lovers, do you mother?" Ana said with a grunt as her pace grew more sure of herself, moving all four of their bodies with her thrusting hips, Marina still holding Portia by the shoulders.

"I've never seen anyone cum so quickly as Mother does with her children," Marina spoke with a voice as silky as her fur.

Her daughter's words were so embarrassing but amidst the long plateau of climax, Portia could barely manage more than a glance over her shoulder. She wasn't wrong. It was happening with frightful ease.

The gap between their bodies narrowed and Anastasia fell forward, bringing her muzzle near enough to hers to share breath, tides of soft, breast flesh collapsing between them. It was enough to throw off their rhythm and Ana pushed forward as Joseph drew back, slipping toward her spine. "I think I feel your cervix, mother," Ana grinned, angling her hips deftly to bump along with her tip. "Maybe this is as close to your womb as I can be again. I wonder how much bigger I was as a baby."

Portia's expression was between revulsion and impending climax as Ana brushed back her hair and kissed her muzzle hungrily. Joseph pulled her hips as they did, securing an impossible tightness at Ana's new angle, seeming to touch her every sensitive spot at once. Portia came again. This time was less like a wave and more of a knocked-over bucket, so fast it surprised her.

The measured restraint and synchronization fell away as Portia howled mind-bending bliss, her body at their mercy. She was so full that she felt both of them bumping against her organs and displacing her insides until all three hips met to sink into her. Surprisingly, there was no real pain, likely for the presence on Ana's magic. Together, they held her at eruption with the increasing relentlessness of youth, grunting and growling at her ears, their bodies radiators and their thick fur damp with sweat.

Ana and Joseph were unstoppable forces, tireless and greedy, holding Portia in a dizzying state of bliss. Their off-tempo, slapping hips battered her hips while keeping her every, soft part in perpetual motion. Her view of most everything was blocked in the closeness of her daughter's giant breasts and the burden of them finally started to wind the teen girl.

"Rollover Ana! Let me really fuck mother's ass! You love it, don't you Mother?!"

Portia nodded quickly before she could catch herself so agreeable. Brother and sister coordinate their three way flip, leaving Portia awkwardly held aloft by their familial, feminine physiques. Joseph scrambled to climb them until he stopped with a rough slam of all his weight and strength. Strong fingers clutched her shoulders before he threw himself into his long strokes, battering her well-lubed asshole repeatedly, grinding her down hard on Ana's enormous cock.

Marina laid out beside them, propped on her elbow with the other hand fondling Portia's breast. She leaned in, nosing around Portia's mouth for a kiss but her ecstatic howling was too much to find any dexterity left to her muzzle.

Joseph mounted with frenzied, selfish need, trying to make as much noise as possible between muffled hips and the squelch of his slick cock pistoning through her clenched asshole. He was relentless and Anastasia gripped her mother's waist to help hold her down.

Portia looked back to watch him, finding his lustful eyes locked on her body in sheer admiration. "You're a goddess, Mother." He hunched down and kissed with a mouthful of tongue and she came again.

Joseph was inexhaustible, while Portia's voice grew hoarse and ragged and her vision blurry. The light had changed in the room. How much time had passed? Enormous, youthful erections were starting to feel like a part of her, her new form being a lust-drunk, compound rag doll of unrepentant incest, occasionally surprised by another orgasm. She lost count at some point, resigned to a fate of being fucked forever.

"I'm close! Ana, I'm close!" Joseph cried out after what must have been hours, his hips growing erratic at their exhausted pace.

Portia was practically limp when Joseph and Ana rolled again in unison to bring the three of them sitting upright in a combined embrace. Marina joined from outside, hands and mouths exploring Portia's body as they moved her hips crushingly close. She felt the swell of their knots, seeking entry while every mouth, hand and body was bent on overwhelming her between them.

"One more time, Mother! Cum for us one more time," Ana moaned with a disarming, exhausted smile.

It was a command and Portia was helpless to oblige, with their skilled touch and coordination. Only when she burst into a final, explosive, wide-eyed orgasm did Joseph roar with a triumphant thrust, tying with her before his cock flexed and slung a hot surge of semen into her bowels, cramping the tightness of her insides.

Ana was a moment behind, her knot as out-of-proportion as the rest of her. A sound-minded Portia might've protested but there wasn't much mind left at the moment. Strong hands pulled her mother down to help, wedging inside her before erupting with her own, forceful orgasm. Between them, she winced in strain, the fullness of her torso bordering on pain. She was so full, stuck knotted between her two children and their abundant, incestuous loads, she could only sweat and pant until her vision darkened with waning consciousness.

* * *

Portia was half-collapsed on the bridge's railing now, hunched over a forearm on the railing. Her other arm was pulled up the cloak's sleeve and her hand had slipped up the flaps of her skirt, tending to a flood of arousal at the intense recollection. The crowd was filling out around her, but she counted on the cloak's volume and thickness to keep the exact nature of what she was doing concealed: moving two fingers over herself fast enough they vibrated, pushing her clitoris against her still-sore pelvis.

"You alright, miss?" Someone touched her shoulder and she tensed but didn't move or look back.

"GO AWAY!" she snarled through gritted teeth and was released. Some of her previous, sexual encounters bordered on public but this was a different depth: masturbating in a crowd, in broad daylight and recycling memories she wished she could forget.

Her back arched , instinctually at the recollection of Marina's tongue, Joseph's vigor and Anastasia's incredible size. How full she'd felt, impaled between her tremendously-hung children. "You sick bitch," she cursed herself through gritted teeth, her muzzle muffled into her cleavage.

A few heads around her turned at the restrained grunt that followed as she brought herself to a ragged, empty orgasm but their eyes found the weapons on her back and moved along from the cloaked stranger.

Dame Darcy's Debrief

Portia woke again, in the bed alone, her muscles sore and fur, damp and cool. A turn of her head toward the window revealed night had all but passed and the sun was about to pour over the city at dawn. She started to sit up, only to freeze and wince at a sudden abdominal pain and her hand clutched herself, landing in a cool, slimy slick.

"I guess that happened."

The pain dulled enough to sit up, finding herself in a pool of cooled semen, yellowing at it dried on the haphazard bedsheets and all over her inner thighs. The feeling was nice against her battered rump.

She winced again, finding her pelvis also sore while she moved to the edge of the bed and hung her feet over the side. She stood on shaky legs, finding her armor and gear neatly placed by the door. There wasn't a trace of anyone else except for the mess they made of her, which the room's mirror confirmed was thorough.

Nothing had been left in the room to clean up with, so she wiped herself off as best she could with gathered sheets before getting dressed and equipped again. Other than some cum-spiked fur between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her boot, the mess was mostly inconspicuous when fully clothed.

She started to walk and winced again, the pain deep and dull yet exciting. Recalling just what had happened was enough to set her nerves alight and she silently thanked herself for waking up alone.

The pace was an uneven hobble. Normal injuries, she could hide well enough but this room knew much worse secrets. She opened the door out, unsure what or where was beyond.

A quick survey found herself looking at Dame Darcy's office from a different angle. This a doorway she'd seen earlier. The Kangaroo Sorceress sat at her desk in her custom chair, supporting the bulk of her massive tail. "I'm afraid I have other engagements to consider, Princess... Pridemoon. That took quite a bit more time than I expected but I think you have your answer."

Portia held the relagite charm in her hand, around her neck. "Do I?"

"It's not in your bloodline but in your head. It's the idea that drives you so insatiably wild."

The vixen took a slow and heavy breath.

"So this is something wrong with my head? I'm ...crazy now? Because I accidentally fucked my son?"

"I think you're crazy with lust because you loved fucking your son."

Portia's fist's clenched as she trembled, gritting her teeth.

"Miss Pridemoon, this is a breakthrough. You have the answers you came here for. Not everything you don't want to accept about yourself is the fault of some, external force like blood or magic. Some things you just like. Some things you can't help."

"If this is who I am now, I don't want to be me."

Dame Darcy shrugged. "You could try a magical brainwashing but even the best wizards never seem to get that totally right. I don't attempt it myself, unless the person is a danger to themselves or others. The memory could be removed but that first time with Joseph is so intertwined with your first meeting with him, Zarron and the discovery of your ledger... you'd probably forget you have a family at all."

Portia drew a breath before answering. "I don't want to rule out any options."

The kangaroo steepled her fingers and pondered for a moment. "Perhaps a Counselor can help you talk through this. I can recommend a good one who doesn't serve the Lord directly and I will cover the expense. I just want you to understand this. Understand yourself. Then consider that it doesn't make you as awful as you think."

The vixen deflated and relaxed. "Fine."

"There is a blue manor at the end of Errington Lane. Go to the tunnel in front of it. You're looking for a groundhog named Sebastian. Tell him I sent you for immediate treatment."

Portia nodded headed for the door wordlessly, her head hung and heavy.

"Oh, Portia. One more thing: I know you've been on a bit of a tear with random men but you've figured out your problem. Can I suggest you tone down your promiscuity here? There's... something going around."

Portia squinted and the kangaroo waved a hand. "You know it's not going to work without Joseph. Or Marina. Anastasia. Evangeline. Anya. Or maybe Jasper? Stop wasting your time with the men who keep failing you and don't neglect your mission for too long. Stusport is growing dangerous."

* * *

The crowd was quite full now though most were against the far side of the bridge, where the giant ship, Behemoth would approach from. From their excited sounds, it was already on its way. The seaside, where she hunched, was more sparse but small groups and families, making sure they had the best spots to watch when it sailed out to the horizon. For her visible weapons, hooded face and her slouched posture, the citizens of Stusport gave Portia her space.

Tender nerves still tingled from her self-induced orgasm but in the aftermath, a pit of guilt gathered in her stomach, falling right on top of the deep soreness that Anastasia and Joseph had left her with. The pain brought a flash of the memory and the memory made her consider doing it again.

She pulled herself upright with both hands, if for no other reason than to keep them occupied, and she gripped the railing tightly, looking out to the sea. There was gentle chop from up here, the kind that drew tiny caps of white. It looked harmless from so far above but she could see the waves crashing against the docks and ships being loaded and unloaded, occasionally spraying the ant-sized people bustling about the boardwalk, so far down below.

The pain in her pelvis flared and only then did she realize how hard she was mashing herself against the bridge's railing. The memories were relentless. Joseph. Marina. Anastasia. Her mind drifted to the countless hundreds of other handsome sons she's never met. So many sons. So many possibilities. She gripped the railing tighter before pulling herself up to sit on it, knees to her chest for a moment before draping her legs over.

"Can I sit on the bridge like her, Mommy?" a young girl nearby called out loud enough to be overheard. Portia didn't look over, beyond the extents of her hood.

"No Gia, that's very dangerous. Adults should know better." The woman sounded as ugly as she was judging, and she coughed out the last few words with a dry rasp. "Come on, we'll see the Behemoth better from the river side of the bridge."

Portia considered a snide remark and one loaded at the tip of her tongue. How the woman should be inside before she gets sicker but what was the point? Boot heels kicked against the outside of the bridge, hanging over as tall a precipice as she could recall staring down. Leaning forward filled her lap with her bulging breastplate and she peered over her chest, beneath her open knees to see how far above the river delta she was.

The water was dark and greenish, likely quite deep. Good for the biggest of ships that passed beneath but it wouldn't help anyone who fell or jumped from the bridge. The water might as well be stone from this height. She recalled watching Anya's captor, Wilhelm fall from a much shorter tree and the gruesome mess that had awaited them at the bottom. At least the sea might be merciful enough to hide a body, broken by the fall.

Portia had made many enemies over her long career and if any of them were to recognize her distinct silhouette, they were a shove away from easy revenge. Her chest already had its extra weight against her knees, her hands out on the edge as if that might somehow brace her better. This wasn't safe. She didn't care.

The ledger of her children's buyers was strapped to her backpack, a helpful counter weight and in it listed hundreds of future enemies. The rich, decadent and powerful's every purchase of every child. Each one saved would be a new enemy made. She'd be watching her back forever and the backs of all her children. How could she hope to protect them all? How could she provide for them all, if she could?

Did they all need to be saved? Surely not every buyer and adopted parent was a tyrant! Portia would be rescuing them for decades, all the while resisting her perverse urges. She would be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, both from her enemies and from all the laws of decency. Laws that might have her hanged for immoral crimes she was sure to repeat.

What would happen to her reputation if the world discovered what she'd done? A twenty-year legacy of heroism against all expectations would be unraveled by scandals. Her name would spoil from Hero of the Oppressed and a role model for overcoming adversity to a villain and a pervert, to be shunned, just like so many expected her to be.

She finally looked out of her own bubble to the gathered crowd, giving her space enough and excitedly awaiting the ship's passing. Parents and children. Happy and normal. Even the worst of what her children could be experiencing would be better than her.

She was no mother. She was a degenerate. A sex-mad, incestuous pervert. All the guilt of her upbringing that she'd buckled for years through her self-emancipation came crashing back and the pit in her stomach threatened sickness. She had no business being around impressionable young minds, let alone raising and molding them. She needed to be as far from her children as possible.

The thought crossed her mind to jump. No. Those children may not need her, but she hadn't ruined her legacy yet. The kangaroo said she could make her forget that she'd ever discovered her family and maybe that wasn't such a bad option. Life was good before all this started to unravel her. They would survive. They'd be better off without her.

Portia reached back to slip the ledger from it's sleeve and wedged it into her lap. Both hands gripped the book at first but her fingers relaxed slowly. It didn't move. Her hands came away entirely but the thick book was pinned between her breasts and her thighs. All she had to do was lean back. Then run straight to Darcy to have the entire thing ripped away. A warm comfort of hope tingled. She could have her life back.

The crowd cheered behind her. She knew it was for some silly ship but in the moment it felt like a sign.

The vixen stared out over the water, exhaling her longest breath.

To Be Continued...