Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 03

Apparently, his younger sister had met a guy in the Dreaming, and ever since, had shown less interest in the unnaturally sexy beings that populated her dreams. Had found it harder to believe that they were her true family.

His mother listened patiently. Their best bet at this point, she opined, was to wait until Brittany's new relationship lost that new relationship charm. Only once her ordinary life began to feel less dreamy would Brittany be likely to awaken from it.

But Cahill sensed that she was only saying what she thought she should think. That his mother didn't have the patience to go through with Brittany what she had with him. She needed to believe that she wouldn't have to, that her sister had come up a brilliant idea that would utterly convince the girl of the truth. Even if there was no basis for such a belief.

He didn't really blame her. The prospect of seeing Clan Walker made whole again must have cast a powerful spell over its matriarch. And his aunt's idea wasn't any crazier than anything they'd done with him.

Of course, those hadn't worked either. But Cahill chose not to point that out.

Not only wouldn't his mother have wanted to hear what he had to say, but he had his own selfish reason for wanting her to order the rest of the clan to play along. The others might not appreciate being forced to act out with yet another of Oona's little dramas, but Cahill looked forward to seeing one from the other side. And the idea of performing a naughty version of Alice in Wonderland was just so deliciously perverse.

Apparently, Brittany had a fondness for Disney movies that she ought to have outgrown years ago. So, for her, there'd be no damsel in distress missions. No battles with illusory giants or phantom dragons. Just reimaginings of childhood classics.

Oona had already taken through a few such fantasies, often with the help of her sons or nephews, but this would be the first time the whole clan would take part. She even proposed including Macha and her children.

Cahill hoped that it did change his sister's mind, but even if it didn't, he'd be glad they did it. It sounded incredibly fun and sexy. And that's what he'd thought before he saw everyone all prepared to play their roles. Once they were all gathered together in a grassy clearing in the heart of the forest, Cahill found himself hoping that a need arose for many more such attempts to awaken Brittany.

Naturally, Seamus was less enthused.

That didn't really surprise Cahill. His brother had shown considerable impatience with his long journey to awareness and the games Oona played to tempt him away from the Dreaming. Granted, Caronwyn wasn't talking about going into the Dreaming to convince Brittany to wake up, as she had with Cahill. But even so, Seamus really did not share his younger brother's excitement. In fact, he saw it as something of an imposition, since he'd already met with Brittany twice in the past few hours.

"Oh, come on," Cahill said to his brother as the two of them stood apart from the others, pretending not to stare just as everyone else pretended not to stare at them. Pointing at their older sister, he asked, "You're really gonna tell me that seeing Fiona in that getup isn't worth the price of admission all by itself?"

"She does look good," his brother conceded, as if it pained him to do so. His eyes traveled up and down their sister's body. "At least one of us does."

Both Seamus and Fiona were to play the part of the White Rabbit. And though Cahill didn't think his older brother looked half as silly as Seamus himself apparently thought that he did, the two of them were in complete agreement on one point.

Their sister looked amazing.

She wore pale pink heels and opaque white thigh-high stockings. Her pale pink skirt was so tiny that it wouldn't even have covered half her ass if not for the generous layer of faux white fur lining it. As it was, a tantalizing glimpse of the sharp cleavage separating her thighs from her round buttocks was just barely visible.

Her white corset managed to make her very considerable endowment seem significantly larger still. The tops of her breasts swelled up over the top of the garment like twin half moons. If Fiona looked down too fast, she might knock herself out.

The outfit was rounded out by a furry white choker, white leather gloves that reached to her elbows, a ball of puffy white cotton situated just below her tailbone, and, of course, a pair of floppy white ears with pink silk lining the insides.

It was the first time Cahill had ever seen his sister in stockings and heels. That alone was quite a treat. Her shapely legs and huge, round ass were done no injustice by the skimpy little green dress she usually wore, but he found it even harder not to drool seeing her like this. That her ensemble somehow conveyed innocence and playfulness despite exposing enough of her unbelievably voluptuous figure to get her kicked out of most establishments only excited him all the more. Playful was a not a word he was used to using when describing Fiona. Ordinarily, that didn't bother him in the least. But it wasn't an unwelcome change.

His brother's take on the same character was a bit more literal. Soft white fur covered his body, his feet were three or four times their usual size, and he had a rabbit's head. Or what might sit atop the shoulders of hybrid, were it possible to cross-breed men and rabbits. Unlike Fiona's ears, his weren't attached to a headband. Nor were the nose and whiskers that their sister hadn't even bothered with part of a mask. No, Seamus had actually become the White Rabbit. An anthropomorphized bunny, fully six feet in height without the ears.

He wore a pair of white briefs that were almost invisible against his fur, a black vest with heavy gold embroidery on the front, and a neat black bow tie. An oversized pocket watch dangled above his hip. It ticked loudly, lest anyone fail to notice it.

Cahill had been assigned the part of the caterpillar. He wore royal blue drawstring pants and a matching hooded sweatshirt that was light blue in the front. His face was similarly light blue, so as to match his underbelly. Most importantly, his trunk had extended several inches and two additional pairs of arms sprouted from it. In one of his six hands, he held the mouthpiece to a golden hookah, which he held in another hand.

He'd considered growing extra legs too, but the arms had taken enough effort. Besides, though additional legs might have added to the look, he wasn't sure what exactly he'd do with them. It wasn't so hard to imagine how a few extra hands might prove useful though.

The four other men and four other women had similarly transformed themselves to suit their roles. Most merely wore costumes, like Fiona, but a few others had reshaped their bodies, the way he and Seamus had.

Fittingly, Finnegan and Reilly were Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They hadn't adopted the portly physiques associated with the characters, but with their black pants hiked up around their navels, matching red and yellow striped sweaters and starched white collars, topped off by identical white ball caps, there could be no doubt as to their identities. It didn't matter that each of them was entirely too fit and too handsome, nor that they didn't really look that much alike. Reilly's skin was fairer than his brother's. His hair was red while Finnegan's was black. And the younger of the two brothers was an inch shorter yet a few pounds heavier than the older one. Finnegan looked less like a member of a prison gang than he did a broody underwear model.

But, uncharacteristically sexy though they might be, each in his own way, and dissimilar as their appearances were, they'd nonetheless perfectly slipped into their roles. They'd truly become awkward twins whose minds hadn't matured the same way their bodies had.

Duncan's incredible body remained, but his pretty boy face had been replaced by a brown rabbit's head. His fur was an absolute mess, white tufts fanning out to the sides wildly. His mismatched eyes, one of which was large and black while the other was small and blue, were intensely focused on nothing at all.

He could only be the March hare.

The unusual combination of pajama pants and plush bathrobe worn with a fine but wrinkled dress shirt and loose bow tie gave the character a unique spin. He had the look of someone who had no idea where he was, or whether the occasion was formal or casual.

His sister wore brown suede flats, skintight brown leggings, a silver corset, and a brown overcoat. That alone might not have given her role away, but the little ears, wiry pink tail, brown little nose and thick whiskers clearly marked Teagan as the Dormouse.

She didn't have the kind of figure that would allow her to make the most of her incredibly close-fitting outfit, but Cahill liked the way her outfit look on her all the same. Especially the mask and whiskers, strange as that was. His cousin ordinarily looked sweet and innocent and dangerously young, but like this, she came damn close to maxing out on cute. With her dirty blonde hair and complete and utter lack of tits and ass, Teagan was not his usual type, however nice her face was to look at. But any man who didn't feel the corners of his own mouth turn up when he saw Teagan smile had to be dead inside.

Of course, with Duncan serving as the March Hare and Teagan the Dormouse, their mother had to take the part of the Mad Hatter. Macha Dreamsmyth wore black patent leather heels and mismatched stockings that came right up to the very top of her long, strong thighs. One bore blue and green stripes, the other red and black checkers. A red leather glove covered the hand that went with her blue and green leg, while the other hand bore a blue glove that was trimmed with green lace.

Her white mini skirt covered a little more of her than a sturdy belt would have, but not much more. Though her ass was a bit too small and a lot too hard for Cahill's liking, he couldn't pretend that seeing most of it hanging out in the open like that did nothing for him. Similarly, her black leather halter top, adorned with blue and green and red sequins, did wonders for her breasts.

Her hair, ordinarily a shade or two lighter than her daughter's, was white on one side. The other half was mostly bright blue, though there were streaks of lime green in it.

Atop her head, she wore a ridiculously oversized green top hat. A white card with 10/6 marked on it, just like the one in Tenniel's illustration, stuck out of the black band.

Though she had a very different figure from Teagan, his aunt ordinarily appealed to him no more and no less than her daughter. He found her overdeveloped muscles strangely alluring, especially the toned six pack that mostly showed through beneath her skimpy top. But what attraction he felt was born of novelty, of curiosity. Once he'd scratched that particular itch a few more times, he'd likely lose all interest.

The garish yet sexy outfit she'd chosen made it hard not to stare though. And with the staring came an added appreciation for her muscular legs. Those bad boys belonged in stockings even more so than most women's did. Her bright red lips weren't as luscious as his mother's, but they still demanded attention. As did her striking blue eyes. Even her athletic figure was suddenly striking him as more feminine than it usually did. Women should have biceps and shoulders like that, but the made up for it elsewhere.

For herself, Oona had chosen the role of the Cheshire Cat.

She wore fishnet stockings and sparkling purple heels. Her legs were slimmer and more muscular than Fiona's or Caronwyn's, if not so much so as Macha's. And she didn't have much of an ass, either of the hard as steel variety or the pleasantly soft type. Even so, the part of her body he'd always tended to pay the least attention to was suddenly looking worthy of some attention. Cahill wished the women of his family wore stockings more often. There wasn't a one of them who didn't benefit greatly from doing so, despite the differences in their physiques. He suspected even Teagan's stalks would look good in stockings.

The bodice of his aunt's black dress was cinched tighter than tight with bright pink ribbon. Her large breasts strained against it so thoroughly that he feared her dress would rip apart if she drew a deep breath. Layers of bright pink and deep purple lace trimmed the hem and neckline, making it even harder to look anywhere else. Her breasts were no bigger than Fiona's, but they always seemed like they were, if only because his sister's figure was relatively proportionate while Oona was more topheavy.

To complete the ensemble, she wore a pink lace glove on one hand and a purple leather one on the other. She'd grown a second set of ears on the top of her head, one little triangle of course being pink while the other was purple. The striped tail that curled around one delicious thigh was also pink and purple.

The Queen of Hearts was none other than his mother, naturally. That was only appropriate. No one else among their brood could play the part of a queen.

Her knee-length black leather boots had wickedly pointed heels. She wore a black dress with white stripes running from her hips up to the neckline, where they blended seamlessly into shoulder straps that eventually became her high-backed collar. Three plush red hearts formed a row down the middle of the dress and a dozen or so smaller ones lined the inside of her collar. Though the white lace that formed the hem of the dress only reached her mid-thigh, the better part of a red quilted skirt was attached to the dress, and the skirt hung all the way to the floor. A gap in the front of it granted a limited view of her luscious legs. Lest anyone forget that she was a queen, his mother wore a diamond tiara atop her beautiful red hair and carried a heart-tipped black scepter in one slender hand.

Cahill almost couldn't believe how amazing she looked. That Caronwyn was insanely hot did not come as news to him. Even in her somewhat less than form-fitting druidess robes, she looked damn good. But every time he so much as glimpsed at her while pretending to be focused on the conversation with Seamus, his heart threatened to burst. Only tiny little Teagan had a slimmer waist, and not a single woman there had larger breasts or wider hips. The word "voluptuous" took one look at his mother and tendered its resignation, knowing that it wasn't up to the task set before it.

He wished he could say that he hadn't expected his oldest brother to be selected as the King of Hearts, but he couldn't. The revelation stung, but it didn't surprise. Gallech hadn't interrupted them once in all the time he and his mother spent making love after he'd arrived in Faerie. Did Cahill think he'd get to stick by his mother's side now too? In a sense, it was long past time for his brother to get in the way.

He had the stupidest costume too. Red velvet robes, trimmed with white fur, a golden crown and a heart-tipped scepter. That was it. Nothing imaginative or playful about it. Nothing exotic or magical, sexy or humorous. His brother could have stepped right out of the Disney adaptation. He was even pretty close to the right height.

No, that wasn't fair. The eldest Walker son was indeed shorter than his brothers, but he was still taller than any of the women of the family. Only by a few inches in their mother's case, true, but he wasn't nearly as diminutive as the goofy little cartoon king. And Cahill had to admit that he sometimes wished he had his brother's build. It was only out of jealousy for how near their mother Gallech would be throughout the whole thing that Cahill had allowed such a thought to cross his mind.

"All I'm saying is that it's ridiculous to expect all of us to drop everything for this," Seamus said. "Especially since, most of the time, we're just going to be sitting around."

Cahill responded with a noncommittal shrug.

That last part was true enough. When not called upon to participate in a scene, the rest of them would be hovering nearby in an immaterial form. Watching silently from the shadows, unseen by Brittany or even one another.

But even so, Cahill was having a hard time seeing the whole affair as some sort of imposition. He'd like to switch places with Gallech, of course. Other than that, though, he couldn't wait for the fun to begin.

Seamus sighed. "It's okay. I get it," he said.

Cahill looked a question at him.

His brother clapped him on the back. "You've seen our aunt's imagination at work, but only while you were asleep. This is your chance to go backstage and see how it all works."

"Something like that," Cahill said.

He suddenly felt keenly aware that a talking rabbit was telling him that it understood how he felt. He tried not to laugh at that. To take his brother's words for what they were, the same as he would if Seamus wore his usual visage.

"I went through the same thing, back when I first arrived," his brother said. "Trust me, though. It loses its appeal fast."

As his eyes drifted yet again to the captivating hatter, cute mouse and shapely rabbit, sex kitten and gorgeous red queen, Cahill though to himself that this would never get old. If his mother asked him to give up all the other women of the family, to take no other lover but her, he'd gladly do so. But she wasn't going to. Not any time soon, anyway. And, unless and until she did, Cahill intended to enjoy the heck out of these little games of Oona's. With such a bevy of beauties, each uniquely desirable in her own way, how could anyone not?

"Fiona thinks I won't like Brittany," Cahill said. "That I'll think she's too skinny."

Seamus shrugged. "Just about perfect tits, and a mean little ass. You can't ask for much prettier either. But," he added, "She is thin. Her hips are no wider than Teagan's. And, judging by the way you look at Mom, you're gonna disagree with me about her tits."

Cahill took a hit from his hookah. His nerves quieted down some. Their kind never thought about anything but sex, it seemed. And they were all in the habit of objectifying one another. Of comparing them to the rest of the family, weighing every pro and con. He'd heard the women do it too. Even Fiona. But for some reason, he suddenly felt dirty. He'd been expecting a less detailed answer from his brother. The poor girl was barely of age, and hadn't yet come to accept the truth of who and what she was, yet here her brother's were, debating the merits of her breasts and her hips.

"I think Fi's still trying to decide if she's jealous of her or if she's excited about finally having a sister," Seamus said. "So on the off chance that you don't think Brit's too skinny, best keep that to yourself." Then his brother snorted in amusement to himself before adding, "On second thought, don't. I wouldn't mind seeing her get mad at you."

"Jackass," Cahill said, punching his brother in the arm. With three hands.

Lacking his usual thick bark, Seamus reacted to the blows as he should have. Before he could return fire, or toss off a snarky quip, Oona announced that it was time to begin.

#

Seamus hadn't been wrong about Brittany. Her hips were way too narrow, and though her breasts would undoubtedly fill his hands, that wasn't quite the standard by which Cahill evaluated such things. Yet, just as his brother had said, Brittany was incredibly pretty, and her ass was surprisingly impressive. It had a softer look to it than he'd expect from someone as lean and fit as her, even if it didn't have quite the jiggle his mother's or older sister's had. And though Brittany's ass was also smaller than theirs, it was closer to the size Cahill preferred than made sense, given her build. It was round, beautifully shaped, and separated cleanly from her thighs. A minor work of art. Perhaps not too minor either.