Homelands Pt. 05 Ch. 03

If possible, he actually started fucking her even harder.

He leaned in for a hard kiss. Meanwhile, one hand held her thigh up and the other groped at her tits. Her pussy was on fire, her nipples were getting sore, and her mouth was numb. But it felt too damn good to complain. Too good, and too fucking overdue, for her to even draw on her powers to offset any of that.

After his mouth left hers, the hand that had been kneading her breast like dough rose up to her lips, and he pressed his fingers into her mouth without waiting for her to take the hint. She sucked on them like they were his stiff dick, and his eyes lit up as she did.

She didn't know where this new Wes had come from, or why she hadn't been able to find him in the past twenty years, but at least she had found him. And he was about to make her explode. She'd never felt so sexy, so desirable, so powerful.

That seemed like a paradox. She was on her back, almost buried in the couch, while her well-muscled brother was on top of her. He was holding her leg pressed tight against him and pushing his fingers into her mouth. If she wanted to escape, she'd have been powerless to do so. That was the last thing she'd consider doing just then, but she was still well aware that she was pinned beneath him and that he was far stronger than her. Yet, despite all that, she truly was the one with the power. The power to transform her mild-mannered brother into an animal. To get him to cross his bitch of a wife. To get him to do whatever she might want him to do. He needed her affection that badly.

Her pussy started quivering madely. It wouldn't be long now. She tried to moan his name, but with his fingers in her mouth, all that came out was an indecipherable jumble.

Her brother took his fingers away and ropes of saliva dribbled down onto her shoulder. But they promptly disappeared, and his suddenly clean and dry hand slid through her hair, coming to rest gently on the back of her head.

They locked gazes.

A lifetime of shared experiences flashed through her eyes. She remembered when Alan had cut the hair off her Barbie and melted its face with a lighter. She'd blamed Wes for that. She'd known which brother had done it, but it was easier to blame the quiet, shy one than the one she both feared and admired. She remembered the time that Wes demanded that Alan apologize to Gabriela for telling her that she looked fat in her uniform. That had been the first day of school after the summer in which her breasts had started to develop. And Alan had indeed apologized. Eventually. After he'd given Wes a few bruises. She remembered too how Wes had been there to hold her when Alan and Becky and their parents were taken from them. How he, and not her husband, had been there when she'd given birth.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeessssssss," Gabriela wailed as her climax hit.

The spasms started off small, but quickly turned powerful. Pleasure radiated through her body, up and out from her hot cunt. Her nipples and fingers and toes tingled, her face felt flush, and her arms and legs were weightless.

She was completely at her brother's mercy. And he should have been taking advantage of that. Gabriela should have felt energy draining out of her like water from an upended jug. Instead, she felt only a slight trickle. Like blood dribbling out of a pinprick.

"Wes," she panted, struggling to regain her breath.

"Shh," he said.

She stared up at him, unsure whether what she was feeling was anger or amusement or disappointment or appreciation. Or maybe all of those at once.

"I'll be fine," he said. "This is Eric's moment to shine. And he needs you at his back."

Gabriela started to protest.

Before any words left her mouth, though, he said, "I'll do my part. And I'll see to it that Liv and Zoey do too. But you need your strength more than I do."

She nodded, then took her brother by the shoulders, spun him around, and forced him onto his back. The couch groaned as he flopped down onto it, but Wes himself only laughed. His laughter died as she climbed atop him, though, and he stared up at her silently, intensely, blue eyes glimmering with lust.

Gabriela straddled her brother's hips and leaned down, as if she were about to kiss him. But when he leaned up, lips puckered, she pulled away.

"You fucking tease," Wes said.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," she replied.

Slowly, she worked her way down her brother's lean, hard torso. She wondered as she did whether he'd always smelled this good. Had she simply failed to notice because she didn't want to be too impressed by him?

"Please," he begged, jerking his hips and pushing his dick up towards her tits.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, taking hold of them and bouncing them a bit, to his utter delight. "Not my mouth?"

Wes simply groaned in reply.

Gabriela continued her teasing descent, kissing and caressing her brother's firm pecs and toned abs. When her breasts started to slide down his midsection towards his hard dick, Gabriela heard her brother whimper.

"Let's see Zoey do that," she thought to herself.

When she finally wrapped her love pillows around her brother's length of steel, he let out a heavy sigh. The look of pure ecstasy in his eyes while she slid her breasts up and down the length of his shaft was a true sight to behold.

She had to confess, she was a little surprised by that. Gabriela knew that men loved her breasts, but it had never occurred to her that she could get this much of a reaction out of a guy simply by pressing them against his cock and bouncing them up and down a bit. She was going to have to try it with Eric and see if he responded the same way.

After a few minutes of that, though, she was ready to taste her brother. She was curious to see if she'd find his cum more pleasant this time than she had in the past. Would she find herself more open to the hint of apricots and walnuts?

"Mmm, you're the best, baby," Wes moaned as her lips slowly enveloped his helmet.

He didn't try to get her to speed up. She knew that he wanted to, though. Knew that it took a great effort on his part to keep his hips flat on the couch cushions.

Her blood began pumping just a little faster. She slowed down and used her tongue more sparingly. Gabriela was going to torture her brother, if not quite the way she had so often done when they were kids.

At least, that was the plan.

She'd barely even begun to show him what she had in store for him when Wes exploded.

His eyes rolled back in his head, his jaw clenched tight, and he started filling her mouth with his warm seed. It tasted both better than ever and exactly the same. There were traces of apricot and walnut, as ever, but not of bitter disappointment.

Even after Gabriela gulped down a few mouthfuls, her brother kept cumming. His Libido was gradually emptying and her own swelling as a torrent of energy flowed from him to her.

#

He was dreaming.

No, he was dead.

No, definitely both awake and alive, though not entirely sure he wanted to be either one of those things. A dull ache plagued every part of his body. Except for the parts that ached fiercely. His head felt heavy and full of wool. Never before had he felt so thoroughly fatigued.

Nick tried to sit up, but found he lacked the strength. Then he tried to swing his legs out over the side of the bed, and his body again refused to cooperate. He threw his head back against the pillow and groaned. He immediately wished he hadn't, though. The pins and needles in his head went crazy.

Where was he, anyway?

Search his memory though he might, he found no recollection of the small bedroom. The walls of unfinished wood, the twin beds, and the old-fashioned ceiling fan were utterly unfamiliar to him. It looked like he was in a hunting cabin or something. At least, the room certainly belonged in what a boy raised in southern California, who'd never been a hundred miles from either coast of the US of A, might imagine a hunting cabin to look like.

The vase on the nightstand caught his eye. He didn't recognize that type of flower, and there was a decidedly otherworldly character to them. Like they must have come from-

"Nick?" his sister called out. "You awake?"

He mumbled a response. Then tried again. The second time, the sound that escaped his throat was louder. Unfortunately, it was no more decipherable than his initial grunt.

The door just beyond the foot of the bed opened, and Veronica rushed in.

Nick's heart nearly burst out of his chest.

She was exactly the person he wanted to see just then. And she couldn't have looked better. From the way she wore her hair off to the side, spilling down the front of one shoulder, to the tight bustier that had the unenviable job of trying to contain her huge breasts, to her thick-rimmed glasses. And was she wearing stockings and heels? Since when did she wear stuff like that? Damn, did she look good in them, though.

The mere sight of his sister instantly put to rest all doubts he might have had about the functioning of his anatomy.

"Hey, Vee," he said. And it almost sounded like it too.

"Heeey, you," his sister said in a soft voice. "How you feelin'?"

Like shit, truth be told. But he wasn't going to tell her that. Not even if he could form actual words. That sad, concerned look on her face was hard enough for him to bear as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was give her any further reason to be sad.

What had happened to him, anyway? Why couldn't he talk? Or move? And why was Veronica speaking to him in the kind of voice one might use with a cancer patient?

Nick tried to remember. But he was coming up blank.

His sister sat down on the edge of the bed, one leg upraised and one still on the floor, and took one of his hands in hers. Her beautiful brown eyes were wide, her lower lip quivering, and Nick's heart melting.

Was that really his hand in hers? All pale and ashen?

Finally, it came back to him.

The failed raid on the headquarters of Brave Old World. The guards with their harmless guns. The king's sons, who sadly were anything but harmless. The ceiling crashing down.

His legs being severed.

"They're growing back," his sister said, without taking her eyes from his.

Nick drew a deep breath.

"Grandma took good care of you."

Of course. He should have guessed.

The homely cabin had Grandma and Grandpa written all over it. Heck, his grandfather had probably built the thing by hand, even though grandma could have conjured it up with a snap of her fingers. And the flowers were obviously native to Summer. No earthly variety had petals that reminiscent of crystal.

They were back in the Homelands, then, with their family. The Hardt half of it, anyway.

But Patty was still missing. And they hadn't done anything to help with that.

"How long?" he asked.

"Have you been out?" Veronica asked.

He nodded.

"Several hours," she said, touching a soft palm to his cheek. "The longest hours of my life," she added, with a wan smile.

The pain he felt from the waist down, where a new pair of legs was growing rapidly, paled in comparison to the agony of seeing that look on his sister's face. Of knowing what he must have put her through. It was he who'd been grievously injured, but she who'd done the suffering.

"Missed you," he said.

Veronica laughed awkwardly and looked away. "Goofball. You weren't even conscious. Probably spent the whole time dreaming about lions, ninjas, and ceilings caving in." Yet even as she said, "Missed me, my ass," her soft smile returned.

If he'd dreamt of any of those things, he couldn't remember it now. But, then, he couldn't remember much of anything. There was the fight, and then he was trapped motionless in a bed in his grandparents' cabin, wondering if he was even alive.

So he amended his statement. "Good to see you, Vee."

She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. "Same here."

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

Eventually, Nick said, "We'll get her back."

Veronica snorted. As she smoothed his hair back from his face and kissed his forehead again, she whispered, "You should get some more sleep."

"We will. I promise."

She kissed him again, this time on the lips, stared into his eyes for a few moments, then left him to drift off back to sleep.

#

Not long ago, Eric couldn't get enough of Olivia, and had wished he could get more of Aunt Zoey. But as he did his best to enjoy a threesome with the two of them, he found himself wishing he could trade places with Uncle Wes. The women who'd once excited him beyond words no longer did so very much at all.

He still felt more than a little affection for Liv. Maybe even more than he had in the past. Her little breakdown earlier had taken him by surprise. He'd never expected to see that kind of fear and vulnerability from the cousin that he'd alternately thought of in the past as a stuck-up bitch, a tease, and the coolest girl alive. But if he was glad to take her in his arms, it was mostly because he knew that she needed to have her mind taken off everything.

She was no longer an object to lust after. His cousin had become an actual person, complete with needs and weaknesses and feelings. The way she always should have been.

And Zoey?

She was an archetype for Perfection. Tall, thin, and beautiful. She wasn't quite as gorgeous as her daughter, but it was close. And, judged by the standards society had imposed upon him, his aunt had a fucking killer body. The voice in the back of his head, the one that had always desired the ability to brag to his friends about his conquests more so than it had desired the women he'd conquered, agreed. But now that Eric allowed himself to want what he wanted, to see what was before him rather than what his friends would see, he found Zoey about as exciting as vanilla ice cream.

There was a reason vanilla was the default. It didn't have much to offer, and it was hard to get too worked up over, but it also couldn't have been less objectionable. Similarly, his aunt's relatively full but not exactly large breasts, toned abs, impossibly long legs, small ass, and tiny waist were not the type of features ridiculed by tabloids. No guy would ever fear that his friends would question his judgment if he expressed the belief that a women like Zoey had it going on.

But was that really how beauty was judged? By the absence of imperfections? As if any of their kind had any features that could truly be called "imperfections" anyway?

If not for the fact that she was the most powerful person in the room, he'd have been ignoring her. Unfortunately, though, Eric needed her energy. That was, after all, the reason why they weren't already on Summer's shore.

Otherwise, when Olivia slid out of his lap and her mother asked if she could ride him next, he'd seriously have considered saying no.

Well, okay. He probably wouldn't have. His aunt was not the kind of woman men said "no" to easily. But he still had to remind himself that pleasuring her would help him get his sister back. That there was a good reason he shouldn't go over to the other couch and take his uncle's place between his mother's legs. Where he belonged.

At least, at first he had to remind himself of these things.

Damn, but the woman knew what she was doing.

She dug a nail under his chin and lifted, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Up here, tiger."

Eric suddenly understood the way all the women had been raving about his father's eyes.

He'd seen his aunt's orbs shift from the deep blue of the sea to a decidedly more electric hue before. Mostly when she was angry, but also when she was aroused. He'd never quite noticed just how luminescent they could be though. They were literally shining. Not metaphorically. The damn things actually emitted soft blue light.

As he stared, captivated, up at her unnatural irises, he felt her take hold of his manhood and gently guide him into her womb.

The air went out of Eric's lungs.

His aunt was showing him everything she had. And, damn, she had was a helluva lot.

She was tight, but not too tight. Warm, but not unpleasantly so. Exactly the way a woman should feel. With each additional inch that disappeared inside her, Eric reached a new level of ecstasy. His aunt was waging all out war on him, metaphysically speaking, and it was not a war he was likely to win.

"You can touch them," she said, guiding his hands to her breasts. "Just try not to forget to look me in the eye from time to time, okay?"

He tried to reply, but couldn't.

Her nipples were like pebbles beneath his fingers, yet her breasts were soft and supple. Even as he thought to himself that he needed to get away, to escape the trap she was setting for him, he found that he couldn't keep his hands away from his aunt's luscious orbs. No more so than he could speak.

"Please," he wanted say. "I can't take it. Have mercy on me."

But as she pressed a well-manicured fingertip to his mouth, he eagerly sucked it in. And made no attempt to do anything else with his mouth.

If any man had ever before known such bliss, he surely must have killed himself immediately afterwards, out of fear that life could not be worth living afterwards. Not if any significant portion of it would have to be spent away from her warm embrace. How could the tedium of daily life be anything but sheer agony, once a man had known such ecstasy?

With each gentle rock of her hips, her magical womb slid away from him, leaving him feeling cold and exposed and desperate. Only then she'd slide back onto him, and a rush of pleasure and excitement would run through Eric. It was almost as if each thrust was the first. As if he had no idea what unspeakable wonders were in store for him. No matter that he'd felt the very same glorious sensation a second ago.

He had no idea how she was doing that, but neither did he care.

"You know you want to," she cooed. "Don't be afraid. Give it to Auntie Zee. Fill her with that glorious life-giving fluid of yours. Fill me up good."

Eric knew he should have resisted. Knew that he was supposed to be using this as an opportunity to gain some of his aunt's abundant energy, rather than feeding his own to her. But he couldn't help himself. He'd never known such pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so good as being inside his aunt.

Nothing.

"Fuuuck," he moaned as he climaxed.

"That's it, honey," Zoey whispered in his ear. "Let yourself go."

Which, of course, he did.

The ecstasy she'd shown him was entirely artificial. Nothing like the intimacy he felt with his mother. But that didn't matter nearly as much as he wanted it to. Truth was, Zoey was beyond powerful. He'd always known that the rest of them were weaker than her, but he'd never quite realized the extent of it.

Energy poured out of him like water from a broken fire hydrant. His balls kept pumping and his cum kept spurting and his Libido inched ever closer to utterly empty. Yet he was powerless to stop it.

"Don't worry," Aunt Zoey said after he finally finished feeding her thirst. She pressed one soft hand against the side of his face. "I'm not going to keep it." A grin spread across her lips. "Just wanted you to see what you've been missing out on. This way, you'll be thinking of me every time you cum inside her, from now on."

Before he could reply, his aunt kissed him lightly on the lips.

As she did, he felt all the energy she'd taken from him come suddenly rushing back in. And then some.

Eric was still reeling, trying to keep from being washed away by the torrent of energy she'd poured into him, when his aunt climbed out of his lap.

"Are you okay?"

He wasn't sure at first who was asking him that. Convincing himself that he wasn't about to explode took too much effort. But then his cousin put a hand on his shoulder and bent down to look him in the eye, as if checking for signs of a concussion.