Futareich Ch. 03

"Dylan!" Elenore exclaimed. She was ecstatic to hear news of her missing son, even in this dire situation. "He's alive!"

"Alive and well," confirmed Greta. "As well as a boy can be in the Futareich. But let's talk about him later. I have to deliver my package first."

"Package? Did Dylan send us something?" Gasped Elenor.

The Futa smirked. "He didn't send it, but he helped me deliver it to you."

"Where is this package?" asked Tiffany suspiciously.

Greta grinned a huge, sinister grin. Then she spoke in a tone that was playful in the way a cat plays with a cornered mouse. "Why... It's... right.... Here!" Her hand moved downward, drawing the eyes of the two helpless women to the gigantic custom-tailored bulge that hung between her powerful thighs. With hips out-thrust, she took hold of the prominent iron gray zipper and with theatrical slowness, pulled it down.

That was the last free moment in the lives of Elenore and Tiffany Martin.

Greta laughed as the two sluts knelt before her, their eyes fogging with lust. She put her cock in the mouth of the older one, grasping the younger one by the head, guiding her down onto the Futa's mighty right testicle. So easy. Just like that, the Futareich had two new slaves. And before morning, Greta was going to make sure that both Dylan's mother and sister were pregnant with her babies.

Later that night, as she unloaded into the sopping pussies of the two sluts she smiled, remembering the terrified face of a certain clever boy. "Nine hundred and twelve," she whispered, pulling out of the mother's battered muff and slamming into the daughter's quivering quim. "Nine hundred and eleven..."