Hypersexual Life: Family Pt. 01

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Everyday incest and family life in a hypersexual world.
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spoonmans
spoonmans
165 Followers

This is a stand-alone installment in the Hypersexual Life series. This series is a collection of scenes of various length sharing a common setting--a world revolving around casual, open sex and sexuality and free-use, where hyper sizes, futas, and more are all commonplace. While the last installment focused on college life, this installment focuses on casually incestuous family life in a world like this.

This installment is almost twice as long as my previous one! I didn't expect to write this much, but kind of got caught up in how many ideas I had once I started. You'll find five scenes in this installment, three longer ones interspaced by two shorter ones. I think this is a useful format for material like this, but I'm really going to have to gauge how long these installments are going to be going forward based on reader interest. So please make some noise in the comments if you like what you read or if you've got any critiques! Hearing your comments and feedback means the most to me, more than views, ratings, and whatever else.

This series depicts unrealistic human bodies, including futas and hyper sizes ranging from the oversized to the downright cartoonish.

This series contains taboo elements that some may find upsetting, potentially including (but not limited to) casual sex, free use, various sexualities and gender pairings, mentions or depictions of incest, polyamory and open relationships, and age gaps with all characters involved being 18+. This installment will heavily feature incest. Reader discretion is advised.

--- --- --- --- ---

In a world where 51% of men, women, and futas become hyper around age 18+, society is completely restructured by their sexual and practical needs. In addition to oversized sexual endowments, hypers also have increased libido, fertility, virility, and semen output (in the case of males and futas), and thus their presence warps society. And beyond even that, the presence of hypers in the worldwide gene pool has caused humanity at large to have much larger endowments than the people of our world, even for non-hyper people.

The taboos of open relationships, queerness, polyamory, casual and public sex, nudity, and masturbation, legal age gaps, and even incest and inbreeding -- the risks of which are rendered nonexistent by the quality of hyper reproductive materials -- have never once been part of this society. The world at large is indifferent to the taboo nature of all things sexual; all forms of sex are as casual an act as hugging or shaking hands. To people of our world, this society bears more resemblance to porn and erotica than our own lives.

In a world such as this, family dynamics are often unrecognizable compared to our own expectations. Incest is not only common, but often the norm. Once children turn 18 and enter the adult world, their relationships to family radically transform; parents are often expected to be very hands-on with their children's sexual education once they become of-age, especially among hyper families. Siblings, too, often share very close sexual relationships.

As polyamory is typical in this world, even the structure of some families is incomparable to our world's norm. It is not unusual for a household to be made up of three, four, or five parents all involved with each other in some combination, raising all of their mutual kids. And, speaking of romance, inter-family dynamics don't stop at sex; relationships between relatives occur with signifiant frequency, too. Siblings date siblings, mothers wed sons--even inbreeding, a riskless practice thanks to the hyperfertility of this world, is a regular occurance...

--- --- --- --- ---

Marissa Howard let the chill rush of the shower wash over her while her mind wandered. It was Saturday, and she was home from college for the weekend--she went to school only a town over at MUSE, the Midwest University for Sexual Excellence, a cute little private university that she'd been enjoying attending for the past few years. Still, she found her dorm a bit stuffy at times, and even though she appreciated the company of her roommates on the weekends, she made a point to spend a weekend at home at least once or twice a month. She missed her parents. Her brother too, sure, but mostly her parents.

Plus, her home shower was always more refreshing than those at her dormitory. The temperature and water pressure was closer to what she liked, and was always more comforting; that, and she could take long, refreshing showers without worrying about holding up the line, even on weekends. Though, usually when she tried that at school, it just resulted in someone else from her floor winding up under the showerhead with her, getting a little touchy...

Marissa was a futa, and was no stranger to her own allure. Shapely and tall (just over 6'0", even), she'd spent her few years at college drowning in leering, lustful gazes as classmates and professors alike obsessed over her curves and package. She was no full-on hyper, but her 18-inch length and fist-sized balls made a nice bulge in her pants, accompanied on her other end by her large, round butt. More than anything, that was her pride and joy--she worked out and kept it firm and toned, and made sure to keep her butthole well-fucked.

Right now, though, she just enjoyed the water. She ran her fingers through her dense head of long ginger hair, making sure to shampoo herself all the way down to the scalp. When she was done, she let her hands wander downwards, rinsing and washing her long girldick--she predictably got distracted, and spent the next ten minutes stroking herself off. Her own moans and the sound of the cascading shower water deafens her to the outside world, just how she likes it.

Marissa's long shower ends nearly thirty minutes after it started, with her spending the last three minutes shooting a load of cum down the shower drain. Her orgasms are often long, and intense; this is a quick one, for her. When she's finished, she shuts the water off and stands there for a minute, letting herself drip-dry for a bit as she squeezes the last few drops of her load out of her dick.

She pulls the shower curtain open and steps out onto the bathmat, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack and wrapping it around herself, and then taking another and using it to dry her hair off. It's only a few moments later that she realizes the bathroom door is open--she closed it on her way in. She groans, already knowing what she's about to discover. A cockscent hits her nose almost right as she notices the door, too, and it's not her own.

She takes a few wet paces away from the shower, over to the corner where she left some clean clothes to change into earlier--some comfortable jeans and a long-sleeve sweatshirt, casualwear for a day at home. Only when Marissa returns to where she left the outfit folded up for herself, she finds it unwearable: it's absolutely drowned in cum. The folded outfit's position hadn't been messed with at all, it had just been left in place and cummed on. Probably a half-gallon of nutgunk coated it, strong-smelling and still warm.

Marissa can tell whose mess it is by scent alone, but she still squats down to swipe her finger through the glaze and take a taste to confirm her suspicion. She licks a wad of spunk from her finger and swallows it down, groaning as the overly-salty taste makes it clear where the cum came from. She grabs the spunk-drowned pile of clothes and stands back up, groaning. "Tristan!" she shouts, "You little shithead!"

Tristan was Marissa's younger brother by a few years, 19 and still living at home. He had elected to stick to community college for a few years instead of enrolling anywhere more serious and remained at home as he did so, taking mostly online classes. The boy had his reasons for it -- he'd never been much of a student or one for school in general, really -- but prime among them was his attachment to his mothers and his... "condition." Tristan was, although of similar non-hyper endowment to his older sister, what their family doctor had called "hyperlibidal." It was a fancy medical way of calling him a total fucking nympho, basically; he had developed a clinically overactive sex drive. It wasn't just that he had overactive cum production, like a typical hyperspermiac, even--no, his balls could be empty as all hell and he'd still be horny. He was always horny. Marissa had seen him hold the same boner for three days, once.

With her cum-drowned outfit in hand and a towel still wrapped around her, Marissa storms out of the bathroom and towards her bedroom. She'd brought a load of laundry with her when she'd come home yesterday afternoon, and had washed and dried it before bed; she had left the clean load of clothes in the laundry hamper she'd brought with her in her bedroom. Now she was going to have to wash this top and these jeans again, and she swore to God...

"Tristan!" she yells again. Once she made it into her room, she found the whole laundry hamper flooded with spunk. While she was showering, she figured, her prick brother had gone into her room and blasted nut all over her freshly-washed clothes. And it wasn't like it was a small amount of nut either, no; just eyeballing it, she figured the boy had put out a gallon or two at least. Real funny.

She tosses the folded outfit she carries into the spunk-soaked hamper indignantly, and then stomps out of the bedroom still dripping from the shower. She holds her towel around herself and follows the scent of Tristan's dick -- she knows it by heart -- downstairs.

Wandering into the living room and nearby kitchen, Marissa finds her quarry--and the rest of the family. Her pussymom, Brandi, is splayed on her back naked on the couch, her dyed-blonde hair a total mess, while Tristain holds her toned legs up and loudly pounds away at her. Brandi has a picture-perfect bimbo look going on, blonde hair and tanned and skinny-but-thick with a rocking rack of big, fake tits wobbling about. She doesn't look a day over 35, despite being just under 50. She was the stay-at-home mom of the household nowadays, having been a hair stylist when she was younger; the past year or so, though, she was basically Tristan's live-in fuckdoll.

In the kitchen and each enjoying a mug of coffee was Marissa's futamom Tara and her dad, Anthony. The Howard parents were a happy thrupple; Anthony and Tara were brother and sister, and Brandi was their mutual wife (though Anthony and Tara were happily married, as well, completing the triangle). Genetically speaking, Tristan and Marissa were half-siblings, with Tristan being the son of Brandi and Tara, and Marissa being the daughter of Brandi and Anthony. Technically that made Tristan and Marissa cousins, too, kind of--it was complicated, and for simplicity's sake they only really ever referred to each other as siblings.

"Good afternoon, sweetie," smiled Marissa's dad, making sure to emphasize that she was only just now showing her face at a little after 1:00pm. "Sleep well?" He was a tall man -- Marissa got it from him -- of fairly average build, slight but not too skinny. For a man in his early fifties, he was shockingly pretty: clean face, sharp jaw, and gentle features. He sat shirtless at the kitchen island, his fat knee-length cock batting around in some gray sweatpants as he enjoyed a cup of coffee and watched an NCAA cumshot distance competition on his tablet.

"Oh, cut her some slack," said Tara. The ultra-thick futa milf stood to the side of her brother-husband, one arm around his shoulders and her own cup of coffee in her other hand as she watched the lewd sporting event livestream with him. The two looked like siblings, with Tara touting the same sharp jaw and above-average height as Anthony. She was a wide, voluptuous futa, her hips and huge ass clearly showing that junk in the trunk was common among the women of her family; Marissa was often teased by Tara that her own ass was only going to get wider and fatter as she aged. Tara was also a devout nudist, a feature that wasn't quite evident given that everyone else in the house was in varying states of undress currently. This put her hefty milfcock on display, though, its full two-and-a-half feet throbbing erect and protruding in front of her already. Tristan got his forever-boners from her.

Marissa, still fuming, disregarded her dad's greeting and got right to business. She stood in the kitchen, still dripping, and pointed an accusatory finger into the other room at their younger brother, still loudly pounding away at their moaning bimbo mom's pussy. "Tristain came all over all my clean clothes!" she says. "The ones that I just washed last night!"

Anthony raises his eyebrows, and pauses the stream on his tablet. He puts his mug down and cranes his neck to call into the next room. "Tristain, is that true?"

The loud slapping of flesh-against-flesh stops for a brief second. Tristan manages to say "Uh, yeah," before picking the pace right back up.

"Now, why'd you do that?" his dad follows up. Marissa grins to herself, always a little happy to see Tristan get a stern what-for for his horny antics.

The sex sounds continue from the other room. Brandi gives a loud pleasured scream suddenly practically howling. Tristan waits another few seconds before responding. "I dunno. I thought it was funny. And she was taking too long in the shower!"

"Really?" Marissa groans. "You could've just gotten in with me, asshole. There's enough room."

"That's right," Anthony nods. "And making a mess of her clothes isn't very nice."

Another few long seconds of slap, slap, slap. "...Sorry, Mar," Tristan says. "Can this wait, though? I'm really close to cumming and I wanna get pussymom nice and full."

"You apologize to y-your sister properly when we're d-done, okay sweetie?" Brandi chimes in, managing to keep a handful of words out through shaky, uneven breaths.

"That's right," adds Tara. She takes a sip from her coffee. Taking the chance to discipline her genetic son a bit, she adds, "In fact, how about you re-wash all her clothes for her, hm? Since you made the mess."

Tristan huffs. "Fine! Sorry. Can this please wait a few minutes?" He redoubles his efforts at fucking his mom, intentionally pounding against her loud her as to ward off further conversation.

Anthony laughs. He now rests one hand on his sweatpants bulge, massaging it gently. "Does that sound fair, Mar?"

Marissa nods, pleased enough. "Yeah, it does. But he better do it quickly, cuz I have nothing else to wear!"

"And what's the problem with that?" says Tara, interjecting to poke fun at her own nudism.

"Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry mom," Marissa says with a blush, worrying she's insulted her. Tara just laughs quietly in response, barely audible over the sounds of Tristain and Brandi on the couch. Still blushing, Marissa goes to remove her towel and join her futamother in nudity, draping the thing over one of the chairs at the kitchen island to dry. In doing so, she reveals that her own cock is again rock-hard; she may have pissed at her brother, but it was hard not to get turned on by him and their pussymom having animalistic sex.

"Well, it's already one o'clock. You must be hungry," her dad says. He pats his bulge, and Marissa lights up. Her favorite part of any visit home.

"Oh, for sure!" she answers enthusiastically. Without further ado, she drops to her knees where she stands and opens her mouth.

Anthony laughs again and stands up, pulling his sweatpants off to let his fat member free; it's of meager length, fourteen inches long or so, but was disproportionately girthy, thicker than his forearm. He steps in front of Marissa and places his tip in her open mouth on top of her tongue gently. Marissa closes her mouth around it and begins to push head towards her father's crotch, letting his girth stretch her throat.

Tara makes her way over, too, taking up a stance beside her brother-husband and throwing an arm around his shoulder again. "I love it when she visits," she says, and Anthony nods in agreement.

--- --- --- --- ---

Despite the five people living in the Gallagher family's home, there were only two beds between them.

That wasn't always true--there were only two bedrooms, but the number of beds had fluctuated over the years. This had been due to a planning mishap by the Mrs. Gallaghers, who had bought the house together after they had their first child; one master bedroom for the two mothers, one bedroom for the child. When Verity, the female of the pair, found herself pregnant by her futawife Carla after only a month in their new home with their newborn, though, they realized their oversight. Rather than scramble to add a room or, god forbid, move again, they simply decided their two children would have to share the extra bedroom. Even after that pregnancy turned out to be twins, they held fast to the decision.

Over the years, there had been a variance in the number of beds in the siblings' room--when they were moody teens, for example, they each had their own twin bed, with two of them bunked. These days, though, there was only one bed in the room: a three-person Alaska King bed and mattress that they all shared happily.

The trio of siblings were close. Kim, the firstborn, was only a year older than her two siblings and yet sometimes acted like a third mother to them. Scott and Sara, the twenty-year-old twins, were utterly inseparable nowadays, despite having been at each other's throats as kids.

These days Kim split her time between home and college, making a decent commute every day, as well as a job as the youngest (and, if she does say so herself, hottest) bartender at a local bar. Scott commuted to the same school with her every day -- the two shared a car -- while Sara had decided school wasn't for her; she put her ripe young futacock to work working for a local, small-business-style escort service, the paycheck from which allowed her to buy her own car (albeit it used and a bit worn down). They each had a busy life, but all wound up in their shared bed each night--or, at least, discounting nights where one of them wound up in their moms' bed, or over at a partner's place. You get the idea.

As busy as they were, though, Sunday mornings provided a moment of rest. Scott and Kim didn't have classes, Kim didn't start work at the bar until 4:00PM, and Sara only usually ever had one housecall to make.

Kim comes awake this Sunday morning, eyes opening groggily to the light peering in through the blinds on the window on the opposite wall. She's drowned in bodies and blankets; the twins are on either side of her, and the trio is enveloped by multiple sheets and blankets tossed around by their overnight movements. There's a warmth and stickiness to parts of the bed, too, indicative of cum spilled by Scott or Sara in their sleep, and crusty cumstains indicative of loads from previous nights that have gone unwashed. It'd been about a month since they'd washed any of the bedclothes, now, and things were starting to smell. Not that they minded.

Kim blinks herself awake and looks over to the digital clock on the nightstand: 1:00PM already. Sheesh. She knew the three of them had been up late together the night before, but sleeping this late was a bit much.

"Alright, you studs." Kim speaks at a low volume, but just loud enough to start to wake her two siblings. "Up and at 'em. Who's dick is inside me?"

It's hard to tell her siblings' cocks apart--they're both a matching length, 20 inches, presumably due to Scott and Sara's status as twins. She moves her hips around trying to pull herself off of the dick that's been wearing her like a sleep-sock, but finds that Scott's arms -- he's currently big-spooning her -- are wrapped tight around her waist. Sara is on her other side, but also facing towards her.

spoonmans
spoonmans
165 Followers