Breakfast
I woke up as if it were any other morning. A bit, and then yawned. I moved the blankets off of my body and turned so I was sitting on the side of the bed. I stood up and stretched properly, the morning sun hugging my naked form.
I walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where my wife had my son sitting in a roasting pan on the stove, cooking up nicely. They were both naked of course. I sat at the table and unfolded the paper that was set before me. Happy news, as always. Peace was being brought to all those mean outer nations of warring people and furs.
I never could understand why some of us human folk just couldn't get along with furs. I mean, me and my family of four (my daughter wasn't in the kitchen yet) lived in a nice suburban area where the houses all stood out from each other like the candies in a jelly bean jar with their pretty colours and what not. On our street there were nine houses on one side and eleven on the other, us being the seventh on the nine side. At least five of the households had fur families in them at the time, and not a single tennant on that street cared either way, and many were friends. There were of course those we didn't get along with, but that was more of a professional courtesy due to our fetishes not accenting well. We all respect our decisions of course, we just share various differences in opinions. Mind you, we can still hold intelligent conversation with each other when in the company of those we don't particularly like. Then again, we all look at each other as at least acquaintances around here. None of this hating junk, just liking each other less. To some it likely sounds wishy washy, but hey, it works as far as being happy goes.
Anyway, as I was reading the news, my daughter came over with my coffee cup as she usually did and offered me some. She was only 8, but she was good at making my coffee for me. I looked at her from behind my paper, ruffled her hair and said "sure, why not?"
As per usual, she then held it between her legs and peed coffee into the cup. How she'd learned such a trick at that age was beyond me. Heck, I hadn't even mastered that one yet.
Once she was done I took the mug from her and took a sip. Not too hot, which was good, but a bit more cream could do. I noted it to her in a fatherly way and she blushed a tad.
"What're you readin', daddy?" She asked.
"Oh, just the news. Gotta keep up to date on what the world is up to, you know." I looked down at her and she was ever so cute. "You wanna read it with me honey?" I asked her.
She clapped giddily as I put the paper down for a second and brought her up to sit on my lap, her young but lovingly practiced anus slipping down over my morning wood. If she'd have been a cat fur, she'd have purred. She always liked that.
As we both sat there, pointing out interesting stories to each other, we both heard the telltale sound of my wife slicing my son's torso from his hips. She then picked up the ten year old's upper half and placed it in the high chair to my left. It took him a second to get his exposed innards comfortable on the flat seat.
Then my wife carried over the pot full of soup ad things and set it down. With two big two pronged turkey forks (I guess that's what you call them... she's told me many a time before, but I was never good with that sort of thing. Hence why she cooks and I don't), she picked up my son's lower half and placed it on a nice big platter. It moved as my son attempted to get it comfortable as well, the cooked flesh finding the cold plate slightly uncomfortable. Once it found a good position, my wife ladled out four different sized bowls of soup and handed them to each of us. The smallest went to my daughter Relee, and the next size went to Amanda, my wife, the second largest went to the meal boy himself, Alex, and I, Bill, got the largest bowl.
As we all sat and started at our soups, I noted a lack of, well... something.
"You didn't pee in the broth, did you Alex?" I asked. He looked up from his bowl and after a second of thought, smacked himself in the forehead.
"Crap! I new I forgot something!" He exclaimed and scooted his bottom half around so he could tinkle a tad in each of our bowls. I taste tested it and found that to be much more to my liking.
"Ah, that's better." I nodded in approval. Andrew almost beamed.
"Though, I would say that a saltier diet would likely heighten the flavour. We may want to pick up a bag or two of Salt and Vinegar chips for the kids today, honey." My wife noted. She's a bit of a perfectionist as far as food goes. The kids of course loved Salt and Vinegar chips, so they liked the idea as well.
"But honey," I noted, in what I felt was an intelligent manner, "wouldn't this decrease the tang of Relee's urine since we're currently attempting to keep her on a mostly fruit diet?"
"Oh nonsense," Amanda corrected me, "The salt would do little to it. Besides, she eats that sort of thing much slower than Alex because the salt hurts her tongue after a while. That, and she's got that 'I can pee anything' trick she does. It's more for Alex than anything, but it'd be unfair to Relee if she didn't get a treat as well."
"I think I'd like some apples, mommy." Relee said. Amanda thought it over.
"Well, as long as you're sure then, we'll get you a bag of apples and Alex some chips. Is that okay with you two?"
They both nodded.
It didn't take much longer to finish our soup and move on to the actual meal. We got fairly spoiled as far as meals went in our household. Amanda was both a professional cook and a self serving hobbyist (meaning she'd use bits of herself in her meals when she could as experimentation, and most of herself on her off time since she still wasn't entirely sure what she cooked best with). As such, we always had home cooked meals of each other at least once a day, and sometimes we went out for supper at a local restaurant. Amanda has, on various occasions, noted how much she used to love her own mother's cooking, but she always cooked her husband (Amanda's father) and no one else, since that seemed to be the only person she was any good at cooking. Amanda also notes that she'd hate to have to rely on store bought cuts and cans of people and furs. She prefers to cook with love and knowledge, rather than just knowledge. As such, she frequently participates in the orgies at her work place (the Fine Dining & Fun Fondling Family Eatery, or Fondler's for short).
As we all got our plates, Alex got his lower half on its knees and scooted around again, this time depositing the bowel-hidden dumplings my wife had stuffed him with prior to the meal. They all had a brown tinge to them, but it only served as more of a garnish as Alex's feces had a very subdued flavour. You'd have to be eating it straight from the source to really appreciate it.
Then we each took our cuts. I took a thigh, Alex took a calf and a foot, Amanda took a flank and the bumhole (to which she made a snide comment about before snarfing it down), and Amanda, having spent much time seasoning it, wanted to see how well the genitals had come out. She reached forward with her hand and storked it until it stiffened. She then used the steak knife to sever it and the testicles from their spot, Alex breathing irradically the whole time. Pre leaked delecately down the phallus as Amanda gently set it on her plate. She took the corner of a mapkin and spread what little pre there was on the bottom and then set to work with her skilled hands, "pawing off" the dick, as some furs would say. As she did, she watched it intently, coaxing it with little "come on, cum for momma, cum for momma" type phrazes before Alex squeeked and Amanda used her napkin to catch the sperm and then spread it around as much as possible, starting at the tip and working down. Alex twitched a lot during this. Then Amanda folded the napkin so the messy bit was on the outside, placed it on her tongue, and swallowed it. She then set to work on the sac with her knife and fork. She took small pieces, savouring the flavours that rolled across her tobgue. Alex's knuckles were white, gripping the edges of his high chair. His eyes were pretty much bolted shut. The further up the cock Amanda got, the more it seeped pre from the tip. It trickled down the thick vein and puddle a bit on the plate. Alex was breathing heavily as the knife cut just behind the flarred penis head, Amanda cutting the second last bite and popping it in her mouth. She then looked down at the head of her son's phallus and turned it gently with her knife and fork, pointing it towards her body. She then, with great vigous and sudden force, stabbed the head with her fork. Alex screamed briefly as a small torrent of cum blasted his mother's midsection which she priefly revelled in the feeling of. But she wasted little time, and the morsel was in her mouth before the second spur. There she chewed it happily as it came sporadically, spraying sperm every which way. Alex was hunched over the front of the high chair and was propping himself up with one hand, otherwise he'd have fallen off, his centre of gravity having shifted too far forward. It took him a full minute to get back up.
Amanda whiped her mouth with a spare napkin and then set it gently on her plate and put her hands, one resting over top of the other just on the edge of the table. As she did, she closed her eyes and took a deep, relaxed breath. And then she came. She did not react at all to it, except to smile ever so brightly. Her vaginal fluids gushed forth and dribbled all over the leather cushion, dripping to the floor where it landed in soft little drops. She climaxed for a good fifteen or so seconds before taking another deep breath or two and opening her eyes. She looked right at Alex and leaned forward across the table so she could kiss him on the forehead.
"Thank you very much honey. I appreciated that more than you can imagine." She then walked over to me, lifted her daughter from my now dripping penis, and held her upside down in her arms so they could lick each other clean, as Relee was also dripping from a small orgasm of her own. She too, like her mother, had the ebility to climax simply from empathy. If the people in the room were happy enough, they could both orgasm quite simply by wanting to. Amanda could store the energy and release it all in one go, while Relee could only hold it to a certain point before she came. Amanda was teaching her though, and making good progress.
Adter a minute or two, Alex slumped back in his seat and looked at me.
"Man she's good." He said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Don't I know it. I married the lady, you know. And she was no where near that good before she had you two. When she did, it was like giving her two everlasting 50 pound turkeys. She's got cooking the two of you down to a science. And she's improving, too. I don't think I've ever seen her cum that much from a meal."
We both sat there, subconsciously inhaling Amanda's odour before I snapped out of the trance and stood up.
"Alright Alex, you've gotta regrow your bottom half and get your stuff ready for school. You leave in ten minutes."
Alex looked at the clock and quickly hopped down off his high chair, sprouting legs in the process and running off to his room. I stood there beside the table and looked down at my wife's seat. I ran a finger across it and licked it, smiling to myself and remembering those years past. Oh how that taste had improved.
"Enjoying my icings, dear?" Amanda said as she came back into the kitchen to clean up and what not.
"Oh indeed I am. You know you've gotta bake another cake with this stuff. Nothing compares to it as far as deserts go." I said as I walked by her to toss my plate in the sink.
"Really now? I seem to recall you enjoying my 'Sloppy Fart' Tarts, as you so generously call them, more than my Cum--Squat Cakes. Isn't that right dear?" She tickled under my chin, putting the cooked portion of our son in the walk in fridge beside what was left of my daughter from last night's dinner.
"Well, okay then... and what else do you call 'tarts made with warm, sugar covered diarrhea'?" I asked sarcastically.
"The name for them is 'Tart De La Bowel'. It's a french delicacy and should not be made fun of, else they end up never being made again." Amanda warned, turning the water on to wash the dishes.
"Oh absolute nonsense. You love making those adorable Pink Tacos too much. You know they give you the runs."
"And why, oh dear husband," she paused only briefly enough to give me a deep kiss, "do you think I make them at all?"
I smirked at her and pecked her on the cheek turning towards the door.
"Well, hate to cut all this short honey, but I've gotta go to work. Stuff and people to meet and do, and all that jazz. You know how it goes." I winked at her and backed out the door so I could watch her roll her eyes and shake her head at me.