FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Robin's Wish

Chapter 8

Robin wasn't surprised to find her parents fighting and tearing each other's clothing off. It was standard behavior in Howlester Manor. Jonathan and Corene weren't aware, but there had been plenty a time when Robin had walked in on them grunting and moaning and rocking over tables and chairs. If there was a piece of furniture in Howlester, Jonathan had bent Corene over it in the midst of some desperate argument. The argument was always about one of two things: Corene's feelings for King Etienne or Jonathan's anger that he wasn't Robin's real father.

Robin didn't understand it at all. She didn't understand why Jonathan hated King Etienne. King Etienne was nice. She remembered the first time she met him. She was four. She and her parents had come to Wychowl with her grandfathers to visit, and King Etienne pretended to pull a coin out of her ear. She knew it was just a trick - in fact, Grandpa Charles had done it all the time. Still, she was delighted when she bit the coin only to discover it was actually chocolate.

Robin also didn't understand why Jonathan insisted he had to be her father. Wasn't he already her father? What was a father? The male who conceived you with your mother? Or the male who loved you and cared for you? Jonathan had been a very good father, despite his insecurities. If only he would be a good husband. Robin was tired of watching her mother hurting.

But Robin knew Jonathan wasn't the only one to blame for Corene's unhappiness. Robin would suddenly wake to find herself standing in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of the night with Corene running to her and crying. And it had been going on for years and years. Corene had begged Robin to keep her sleepwalking a secret. And not wishing to upset everyone, she agreed.

Robin's dreams were dark and disturbing. And yet . . . so familiar. And she knew they were more than mere dreams. They were real. Perhaps real events that had happened. Or events that were going to happen.

She dreamt of Corene on her knees, taking it from three males in the lavish room of some castle. The fireplace was roaring gently, and a white male dog was hanging from the bedpost, watching with a dripping erection as Corene was taken in anus, sex, and mouth. Sometimes Robin wondered if the orgy was how she came to be. Perhaps it was the reason for Jonathan's suffering and anger.

Sometimes Robin dreamt that she was flying, soaring across a pink sky, where a palace of light stood in the distance. Or else she was floating on a cloud. Or lounging in a giant tree. And a handsome black fox was always there. And he had wings. And sometimes he would pin her down and make love to her. And it was so intense, so real, that sometimes she forgot she was still a virgin. The hard stroking of the fox's penis inside her . . . felt real.

And then there was the vixen. Robin would dream of a white vixen with eyes dark as a starry sky. A beautiful white vixen, with high breasts and round hips, with tiny feet and a long white mane tangled with feathers and braids. Robin liked the dreams of the vixen most of all. The vixen would take off her clothing and wade with a swinging tail into the water. She would bathe, rubbing her breasts and her sex, singing softly but always sadly. She was lonely.

Robin was quick to realize that she could only see the vixen when she was near water and vice versa. If Robin dreamt with a glass of water on her nightstand, the dreams happened. If the vixen waded into some distant river, the dreams happened. It was as if the water were a mirror and Robin was peering through. And she knew the vixen was not a vision from the past: she was someone who existed somewhere, right now. And, oh, she was beautiful. She made things happen under Robin's gown as she lay in bed dreaming. Sometimes Robin awoke with her clit swollen from the dreams.

The worst dreams by far were of the cackling bird. A bird with lavender plume would come to Robin through the darkness and hiss and cackle and pinched Robin's nipples and ears. She would tell Robin that she was her daughter, that Robin was the Daughter of Madness, and that she must go to the forest to learn the truth.

Robin wasn't afraid of the cackling bird, but she felt an intense hatred for her she could not explain. She had no interest whatsoever in going to the forest or in learning the truth. As far as Robin was concerned, she already knew the truth: she was the countessa of Howlester Duchy, her father was Marquis Jonathan Kingsley, her mother was Marchioness Corene Kingsley. And that was all she needed to know.

But Robin knew she did not belong at Howlester. She was not really a Kingsley. She was a mongrel. She was illegitimate. She was the reason Jonathan and Corene hadn't had more children. One night as she dreamt, she asked the cackling bird for a boon. She wanted her parents to be happy, and the bird seemed adamant that she should have her, so as she stood in the darkness, she shouted into the void, "Cackling One! I will give myself to you on one condition: give my mother and father a child!" There were several seconds when she received no answer, and then a voice hissed in her mind: Wish. Granted. She awoke immediately after. She hadn't heard from the cackling bird in three weeks.

Robin was sitting on the edge of her bed, draped in a long white nightgown, staring at her open music box when Corene came to her later that night. The box played a tinkling song that always soothed Robin's heart, and in the center, a little blue bird slowly turned on the spot, its wings spread, its dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Jonathan had given her the music box on her seventh birthday. The tiny bird suddenly looked like Cackling Bird, and the thought made Robin's heart beat with pain. She closed the music box and set it on the nightstand, unsurprised to find her mother standing in the doorway.

Corene was wrapped in her housecoat, her long white mane was down, and she smelled like perfume - which meant she was going to have sex with Jonathan that night. She looked sheepish and ashamed, as she had all afternoon, all evening, and throughout supper. Robin knew her mother would come to her and perhaps try to explain what she had seen, as if Robin were some little puppy who understood nothing of sex. But after the dreams she'd been having, she probably knew more about sex than Corene.

"Darling," Corene said apologetically and sat on the bed beside Robin. She hesitated and touched Robin's wild red mane. "I'm so sorry you saw that, honey lamb. Your father was . . ." She swallowed hard.

"Drunk?" Robin supplied tonelessly.

"Yes," Corene sighed wearily.

Robin cast her eyes down. As if she hadn't been seeing their drunken romping all her life. There were several years when Corene drank just as badly. And during some soiree or ball, little Robin would swing around a corner, pigtails flying, and halt to find her drunken mother on her knees licking Jonathan's erection. It was only recently that Corene had straightened up. Jonathan still had some growing up to do.

Robin dropped her head on Corene's shoulder, thinking she would miss her soothing voice, her warm fur, her sweet scent. She didn't understand why Jonathan liked for Corene to wear perfume. Corene had a natural scent that was wonderful.

"Mum?"

"Yes, honey lamb?" Corene whispered, stroking Robin's curls.

"Do I have to go to the ball?" Robin complained.

Corene blinked in amazement. "Why, Robin Corena Adela Kingsley!" she cried and pulled back to look at her daughter incredulously. "It's every young girl's dream to go to a ball! Why, you'll wear fine jewelry and dance with handsome princes --"

"What if I don't want handsome princes?"

"Well, I'm sure there will be ugly ones."

Robin squeezed her eyes shut. "Mum. I don't wish for princes." I wish to do to Zeinara what Father did to you.

Corene's fingers slowly stopped stroking. ". . . what do you mean, honey?"

Robin cast her eyes down. "Nothing," she muttered into her mother's warm shoulder. She didn't want to upset everyone even further by admitting she liked females. King Etienne had found a letter and everyone had lost their senses.

"You'll get to taste champaaaaagne," Corene sang, as if to cheer Robin up.

Robin snorted. Why? So she could be like Corene and Jonathan? "I don't want anyone to see me, Mum," she insisted.

Corene frowned and studied Robin a moment. "What's the matter, darling?" She pinched Robin's chin and lifted her face. "Are you ill? This isn't your first ball by far --"

"No, I'm fine, Mum," Robin protested, pulling her chin away.

"Well, you have to go, Robin," Corene said, shaking her head. "It is very important that you do. Zeinara needs your help, whether she knows it or not. We're all going to keep her out of trouble. You want to see Zeinara, don't you?"

A small smiled curled Robin's lips as she thought of Zeinara, beautiful Zeinara. Yes. She wanted to see Zeinara . . . one last time.

"I'm sure your cousin misses you a great deal," Corene went on. She blinked as she realized, "It's been tenyears!"

"She's not my cousin," Robin muttered darkly. She averted her eyes. She was a mongrel. She wasn't related to anyone but Corene.

"Don't talk like that," Corene scolded angrily. "And stop sulking. Jonathan is your father, Zeinara is your cousin, and this is your family!" She sprang up, clutching her robe shut at the throat. "And you are going to the ball, young lady. End of discussion!" With that, she turned and swept out.

Robin opened the music box and watched as the little blue bird slowly turned. She would be seeing a little blue bird. Very soon.