Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 01

Her big rid lips had the same effect. As did her dark brown eyes, long lashes, and thick eyebrows. Every part of her face conspired to accentuate her majestic, otherworldly, complexion. Which was not to say that her skin was her best asset, by any means. Just one of many, many things about her that he found so beautiful as to be overwhelming.

"Good," she said with a languid grin that almost stopped his heart.

That was one of the things he liked about Liadan, he suddenly remembered. As different as she was from his mother, with her brown skin and a lower body so thick with powerful muscles that he was almost afraid to find out what it might be like to get between her legs, breasts that were merely full rather than huge, and hair more akin to chocolate than blood, she had lips just like his mother's. Lips that any man would find appealing, yet which stirred Cahill's Libido all the more precisely because they reminded him of Caronwyn.

"I need you, Cahill," she said. "We need you."

A knife stabbed him in the guts, ripping through his intestines. Was that all this was? Her turn to feed him the same lies? Didn't she want to be with him just for the sake of being with him?

"I've tried being patient," Caronwyn continued. "It's important that you come to us of your own free will. That you leave the Dreaming wide awake. But the clan is almost whole again. I want you to be there to help us welcome Brittany."

She spoke as if this Brittany character was a real person. But that was absurd. Cahill tried imagining that somewhere out there, there was someone just like him. Some poor teenage girl who would soon be afflicted by the same madness he'd suffered through for the past fifteen years. The thought filled him with sadness.

Some part of him had accepted this world as a part of his life. The things that went on here were too wonderful for him to bring himself to let go of the delusions. But these dreams were a curse nonetheless. He hoped that Brittany was just another figment of his imagination. A new character his subconscious was going to introduce to the cast now that he was growing numb to the pleas of the others.

But he couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth.

"I'm sure I'll meet her soon enough," Cahill said. "I am part of the clan. I'm here every night. There aren't many men my age who spend that much time with their families."

"What's age got to do with it?" his mother asked. "Are these childish games we play? What you and I just did?"

He gave her perfect ass a light smack. The whimper this drew almost made him cum. His mother had such a beautiful voice. Musical, like that of all the fey. Not too high-pitched, like Oona's or Teagan's, nor deep like Fiona's. Just perfect.

"You like Mommy's ass?" she asked, giving her hips a wiggle.

"And everything else."

"Is that so?" she asked, pushing him flat on his back.

Cahill watched, hypnotized, as his mother climbed atop him and guided him back into her womb. Back home, where he belonged. He let out a gasp as her lips parted for him. She wasn't just tight. Big as Cahill was, all women were. But something happened when she slid down his length. The little jolts of ecstasy that passed through his body whenever one of the fey touched him were practically unpleasant in comparison with that intense pleasure.

His eyelids tried to close, but fluttered uncontrollably. Slowly, Cahill regained control of his thoughts and motor functions. Once he did, he guided his hands over his mother's smooth, full thighs, up to her glorious hips. Those broad beauties were made for bearing children. A fertility goddess would envy his mother's proportions.

"I think I see why she likes you so much," his mother said breathlessly.

"Who?" Cahill gasped.

His thumbs gently rubbed the protruding hip bones a bit, then his hands continued their journey. Her waist was insanely narrow. Not just in relation to her broad hips. On any woman, such a waist would have looked impossible. Only Teagan had a waist that thin, and she didn't have the dramatic curves to go with it.

"My sister," the red goddess said.

Cahill fought back a groan.

Oona was desirable enough. In truth, she was absolutely gorgeous, and her figure would make mortal women weep. But she wasn't really his type. Physically, or otherwise. Even if he wasn't as obsessed with his mother as he was, he wouldn't feel the same way about Oona as she apparently felt about him. The other men of the family all fought over her. They could have her. He wanted, needed, his mother, and no one else.

"It's okay," she whispered, her eyes locked on his. "We're good at sharing."

This time, Cahill did groan.

He didn't want to be shared. The floral nymph was light-hearted and fun, endlessly creative and quick-witted, beautiful and sensual. A man could do a whole lot worse than to win her affection. But she wasn't Caronwyn. It was that simple.

His hands found his mother's breasts. Not that they were hard to find, enormous as they were. Despite their size, they sagged only enough to look natural. As natural as anything about the fey could be. They were round and firm, pale as every other part of her, and beautiful. Like her broad hips, they symbolized her ability to give and nurture life. His fingers brushed her nipples. Like everything else about her, they were perfect. Her areola were dark pink, perfectly circular, and just the right size. Her nipples were thick, but not too thick. Hard, but not too hard. Neither puffy nor reminiscent of pebbles. And when he touched them, she shuddered deliciously. He thought he even saw the sparks of ecstasy this time. Little blue things, almost invisible to the naked eye.

That was good. He intended to pay a lot of attention to her majestic twins anyway. That she liked having them played with as much as he enjoyed playing with them worked out well.

Lifting his back up off the soft ground, he took one sweet nipple into his mouth. He worried at it with his lips for time before forming a seal around her areola and putting his tongue to work. As he flicked his mouth organ back and forth against his mother's tender milk nozzle, he felt something inside her stir. He imagined it growing and growing, until she found the simple pleasure of having her son suck on her nipples to be overwhelming. He imagined how it must felt for her as the oxytocin flooded her system. What it must be like to experience a nipple orgasm.

And as he focused on those thing, that was precisely what happened.

His mother's whimpers gave way to soft screams, and those became a shriek. The sound pierced his ears, and the pain of it was pure delight.

"How... you haven't even awakened yet," his mother panted afterwards. Her hips hadn't stopped rolling. Her inner muscles kept working his fat cock expertly. But her pupils were dilated and her cheeks were uncharacteristically spotted with color.

Any other woman would have had to stop and recover. Not his mother, the sex fiend. Even short of breath, she kept right on riding her stud.

"That was... niiiice," she added after a few quick breaths.

Cahill didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't even sure what he'd done. But the look on her face, the breathless way she spoke, filled him with pride. He'd apparently done something special, but he had no idea what. Nor did he know why she'd think him better able to do whatever it was after he woke up. She wouldn't even be with him when that happened. How much pleasure could he give her then?

"Don't stop though," she said, giving him a naughty grin. "Mommy's good to go for quite a while yet. Just keep going as long as you can, okay, baby?"

"You got it," he said.

So Cahill slid his hands back down to her huge ass, grabbed the soft globes as if they were handles, and started pumping away at her tight pussy as though the entire universe depended upon them reaching climax. His mother started to whimper again, and she hugged him tight against her chest. Her enormous love pillows surrounded him, cushioning his face, and her hands held his head tight. Furiously, he thrust his cock up and down, driving into her warm hole like a machine. He longed to see her gorgeous face, or to take those breasts in his mouth. But they felt good pressed against his face too, and his mother was clearly enjoying herself. So he just kept going and going, punishing the pussy that had delivered him into the world, and delighting the woman to whom it belonged in the process.

Cahill's fingers elongated, their tips coming to resemble little tongues more so than fingers. With thm, he licked her sensitive anus ever so delicately while squeezing her cheeks more firmly. That sent his mother over the edge.

This time, he wasn't rewarded with a flood of energy. Instead, she swept him along with her, carrying him deep into ecstasy himself. They came together, and Cahill felt his balls work as hard as they ever had to fill his mother's womb with his cum. Even after delivering an extraordinary amount of jizz, they kept working. His mother kept milking him.

Eventually, she let up. Or he stopped feeling it. One of the two. He couldn't say. A euphoric numb had settled over him.

At some point, Cahill collapsed onto his back, and his mother fell down atop him. She rained soft kisses on him, mostly targeting his forehead and cheeks. Her lips graced his often enough to make his still hard cock twitch though. Each and every time those luscious beauties touched his own lips, Cahill felt a wave of pleasure so intense that it almost qualified as another orgasm. If she kept that up, it wouldn't be long before they were going at it again.

Well, that would be true even if she didn't. But still.

"You could be the most powerful among us," she said after the barrage ended. "The way you deftly manipulate the energy, without even knowing that you're doing so. It's an absolute wonder to behold."

Cahill laughed. "Um, thanks?"

"You truly don't know that you're doing it, do you?" she asked, laughing. "You've a lot to learn, Kay. But with the proper training, Queen Titania herself would bow before you."

"With the proper training," he said.

He liked the sound of that.

"Well," she said, blushing. "I am the only druidess we have. I suppose it would only be fitting for me to oversee the development of the most powerful Walker in living memory...."

"Fine by me," Cahill said.

They kissed quickly, almost shyly. The sparks still came, but they faded fast.

"Tell me what to do, oh wise priestess," he said.

"Hey." Mock indignation filled her voice. Pressing a slender finger to the tip of his nose, Caronwyn said, "First of all, it's druidess. There's a difference." She paused a moment before adding, "Second, you know what you need to do."

"Wake up," he said.

That was what they always said. And, apparently, that meant something different to them than it did to him. Like the real world was the world of dreams.

His mother nodded.

"But not to the real world," Cahill added.

"You don't belong there," she replied.

Was this all some elaborate way of saying that he needed to commit suicide? That to wake up from the real world, and dwell forever here in the land of dreams with these beautiful women, he had to first take his life?

Paging Christopher Nolan.

For a moment, Cahill considered it. Wondered whether he'd use a gun or rope or a knife. But the thought gave him the chills. He was lonely in the real world, but not unhappy. Not unhappy enough to seriously consider going there, anyway.

"I don't... I'm not...," he began, struggling to find the words to refuse his mother. They did not come easy, but in the end, he said it as simply as he could. "I can't."

His mother sighed. "One day, we'll get through to you. I just know we will."

"Maybe," he said diffidently.

He was tired of that topic. His lips reached for hers.

She resisted at first, but it didn't take much to reawaken her desire. For all that she allowed her sister to occupy most of his time, CAhill thought that maybe his mother felt at least some of what he felt for her after all.

"You'll just have to make the most of these nightly visits," he said as he rolled her off him and onto her back.

"Guess I will," she said, pressing a palm to his cheek.

Then he entered her again, slowly.

It felt like the first time. It always did. He had to go slowly, but that was for his sake more than hers. He savored every sensation. Every tingle that ran up the length of his shaft and settled in his testicles at the same time that a twin jolt of ecstasy ran down his back, grounding out in his tailbone.

"That's it baby," she cooed. "Take your ti-"

Suddenly, he thrust the rest of the way in, taking pleasure in the way her brown eyes widened. They looked like they might pop out of her head.

Cahill couldn't believe that his mother, the most beautiful woman never to have lived, was taking his huge cock deep inside her. She could barely handle it, yet still she wanted more. The depravity of it, even if it was just a dream and she wasn't really his mother, wasn't even real, gave him chills.

"God, Kay, you're so big," she whimpered.

He hated that nickname. Except when he heard it from her.

Pressing hips lips against hers, he swallowed the rest of her words. If indeed she'd had any more. As he built up a rhythm, both of them started to slip away. They retreated to somewhere within their minds, focused on nothing else but experiencing the moment. Every thrust brought new thrills. He could barely stand the pleasure. A hundred little orgasms visited Cahill, though none caused him to ejaculate. At least, it felt like he climaxed every single time he pumped stiff dick back and forth inside his mother's pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes," she panted. "Fuck me, baby. Fuck your mother."

He pushed harder and harder. She had to feel what he felt.

Caronwyn leaned up, as if to kiss him. But he sensed that she was near climax again, so he pulled away. He wanted her suffering to last a little longer.

"Unnnghg," she groaned, slamming her head back on the soft bed of moss.

Perhaps inspired by her talk of his potential, perhaps just because he was starting to remember what he sometimes forgot, Cahill pulled out of his mother and grew a second cock. It was smaller, thinner, especially at the head. Perfect for simultaneously penetrating both of her tight holes. It was strange, having two dicks. But why not? This was a dream. Anything was possible here.

His mother stared down her body and saw the surprise he had for her. The disappointment his exit had brought her evaporated. She dug her white teeth into her luscious lower lip and pumped her eyebrows at him suggestively. "Mmm. That for me?"

She reached down and fingered her anus, working lubricant that had appeared from nowhere into her hole. Then she helped him in. Slowly, ever so slowly, Cahill pushed his two penises inside his mothers two holes.

"Oooooh," the red goddess moaned, her eyes closed and head turned to the side. "That feels soooo good, baby."

They traded slow, soft kisses for a while as he gently worked his hips back and forth. But as he sensed his mother's hunger growing, felt her Libido pulse, he picked up the pace. Before long, he was driving two thick slabs of meat into his mother with reckless abandon, and she was begging for more. The nibbling at his ear came closer and closer to actual bites. But he didn't mind. He just liked knowing that he was the reason she was losing control of herself, forgetting the graceful poise that usually set her apart from her sister. Earlier, she'd worn the form of a centaur, but it was only now that she was becoming a wild animal.

As he fucked her harder and harder, she went crazier and crazier. Her nails tore at his back, breaking skin and drawing blood. She left teeth marks in his neck and shoulders. Still he pounded her as hard as he could. Even after she slipped into a monster orgasm, he just kept right on going. And her pleasure never retreated. She just rolled from one orgasm into another, with the briefest pauses in between her many climaxes.

"Cum for me, baby," she panted after a while. "Mommy wants to feel your hot juice inside her. Or on her! Wherever you want to put it. Just cum for me!"

At first, he unleashed himself inside her. But he didn't seem likely to finish anytime soon, so after he filled both holes to overflowing, feeling his own goo dribble down to settle atop his sac, he pulled out. The extra dick disappeared, but the other still had plenty left to give. Rope after sticky rope of glistening spunk fell on his mother's stomach and heaving breasts. Some even shot as far as her face and stuck in her hair. Every time it landed on her, she shuddered in ecstasy.

You'd think, after that, they'd be done. You'd be wrong.

#

"I'm sorry, dear, are these bonds too tight?"

The dull, aching pain in her wrists became a sharp bite. If she hadn't long since erected a sturdy barrier between her body and her mind, the woman who'd forgotten her name might have cried out. As it was, she barely noticed the change.

Still, she hissed as though it hurt as much as it should have, for if the other woman ever learned that her captive didn't feel every hurt inflicted upon her as fully as she ought to have, she'd find new ways to torture her. Pain, the woman with no name could deal with. If they started messing with her head again, though, all hope would be lost. She couldn't let them take any more from her than they already had.

A soft hand cupped her chin and titled her head back.

"What was that? I can't hear you."

Had she once thought this voice beautiful? Envied the way it managed to be so musical and feminine without bordering on shrill or squeaky like the voice she herself had once possessed? The voice she'd passed on to one of her daughters?

Yes, she had daughters. And granddaughters. Sons and grandsons too. She had to remember them. Their names had left her, as had her own. But, for now, she still remembered their faces, and the way they would touch her and kiss her. The way she'd shared her lover with the members of her clan.

There was one name she still remembered though. One she never forgot for long. It belonged to the woman grinning up at her with self-satisfaction, who had to have been one of the few women alive who was short enough to need to look up at the woman with no name even as her body stretched forth from the tree as if seeking to crawl o a shallow grave.

Titania.

She was known in some parts of the world as the Matriarch of Spring. Here, though, she was better known as the Queen of Faerie. The Lady of Shadows.

Once upon a time, the woman who'd lost her name had thought that last title a joke. Titania draped herself in all the hues of all the colors of the rainbow. Her eyes, lips, nails, and streaks of her hair were forever changing from bright this to pastel that, royal blue to electric pink, deep purple to neon orange. Shadows were the last thing anyone who'd ever lain eyes upon her would think of.

But the woman with no name had come to learn the truth.

However prismatic and radiant the queen's appearance, she was indeed a creature of the shadows. She forever lurked just out of sight. And her mind dwelled in darkness.

"Let's try that again," Titania said.

This time, even the glamour shielding her mind wasn't enough to keep the pain away. The shriek that poured forth from her dried, cracked lips wasn't the least bit feigned.

"Good," the queen said, a smile spreading across her green lips. She patted the woman's cheek with the palm of her hand, smearing blood from a gaping wound across the woman's face. "No need to hold back, dear. You know your brood can't hear you here. You are utterly alone, save for the pleasure of my company."