Pairs of Pumpkins #04: The Unseen and Unsteady

She turned around and made another one across the top of her left breast but she still used her reflection to ensure it was drawn right-side up. The accompanying rune to make her silent she drew last, on her opposite breast.

After a quick double check of all three runes, she stared into the reflection of her own, pale blue eyes then spoke a word of power in a forgotten dialect of ancient magic:

"SHONDULA."

The rune on her left flared a bright blue before she faded from sight. Looking in the mirror at the now seemingly-empty room induced a shiver.

"VITULAS."

On her right breast, the other rune warmed but the invisibility hid any other effect. She couldn't see herself by looking down, which was especially disconcerting with her chest usually blocking her from seeing a several steps in front of her. It was important to always do the Silence spell second, she had learned as she was now incapable of making any noise without breaking the drawn rune. That included any more power words or incantations.

She turned away then clapped her hands to confirm the Silence spell had worked. With a resolute nod, the invisible vixen hurried to the door and out into the mercifully broad halls of the manor.

Anastasia hated the vulnerability of being undressed out of her room and she didn't often for fear of getting caught, the magic failing at an inopportune time or the simple discomfort of it but the nudity was an unfortunately explicit detail. The rune would make the ONE thing disappear. That much was clear from the spell's description. She did not however, expect it to be so literal that drawing the symbol on her robe would make it and only it, invisible, even on her body. Fortunately, she learned that lesson in the privacy of her room.

She brought her arms around her breasts at their widest, towards her opposite wrist but never unable to reach it. This was a familiar disappointment and she pulled her arms in, gathering them as tightly restrained against her body as arms that dwarfed them could manage. With the unruly mass of her chest somewhat secured, she jogged back to the stairwell. Neither particularly fit nor fit for running, the vixen was not fast but she made better time than she would in her usual, top-heavy waddle.

When she reached the stairs, she stopped to consider her descent. Usually, she was blocking her own view of half the staircase and would go down by finding the back of each step with her heel and holding the bannister for help. Now able to see through herself, it should have been easier, except she couldn't see her feet either and so she held on for support and descended by feel as she would any other time. With the power of her Runic Magic, she considered how if she fell and broke her neck, no one would have any idea until they tripped over her corpse and nullified the Invisibility effect, perhaps falling and breaking their own neck in the process.

Halfway down, she looked out over the foyer. Stone, Duayne, Evangeline and Darren the stallion were all gone now. The room was empty.

After the last step, she secured herself again before she hurried across the room, breathing hard again by the time she continued down the hallway. She considered along her way, if there were some spell somewhere in the library that might help her endurance but she had found most magic to be almost anti-athletic. Levitation or Teleportation instead of faster, longer running. Unseen forces bent the laws of nature over assisted lifting and all manner of other, over-complicated replacements for ever breaking a sweat.

The top-heavy, teen vixen panted in silence as she arrived at the giant, double doors to the Preparation Room, which led to the Ritual Chamber, still guarded by the towering bull on one side and the ferocious-looking wolverine on the other. She walked up and put her ear to small gap between the doors.

There were spells to eavesdrop on them but neither were at her disposal just now. Heightening her material senses required speaking to activate and she currently had no voice. The other option, Clairvoyance, which she long ago used to spy on her sister and Zarron as a child was one of the many spells that had been denied to her as she grew up and out. She could no longer reach across herself at the correct angle to perform the requisite gesture.

Two males were talking on the other side of door with similar voices. Neither one was Zarron. Ana sighed in relief, her assumption confirmed: all sex magic she knew of would need to be performed one-at-a-time. The first of the Duodecaplets had to be in the Ritual Room beyond with Zarron and Marmalade, which meant there were two more opportunities to witness the ritual. She had to be patient until the door was opened by someone else, lest either of the brutish sentries see it open its own and endanger her spell.

The wait was painfully long, sitting with her ear to the door but the study of Magic was impossible without patience. Eventually she heard new sounds beyond it and another masculine voice, this one Zarron's. She stood and backed away with nervous excitement but more minutes passed before the door swung open and a single brother strode out, dressed in his armor once again. Her focus was beyond the door as she slipped past him but she noticed his expression was curiously blank.

Anastasia was only somewhat familiar with Preparation Room. She'd visited before but most of hers and Zarron's rituals took place in the study on the second floor. This, much grander Ritual Chamber was intended for guest spellcasters or group rituals, neither of which she had personally witnessed. It was an impressive room, with patterned, tile walls and floors surrounding a set-in-the-floor ceremonial bath of steaming water for pre-ritual cleansing. The room was self-maintaining with minor sanitation spells and always appeared immaculately clean, like every other room of the manor.

Only one of the brothers was in the bath, though it was big enough for a several more people. He was alone in the room with Zarron, Marmalade and the second brother all unaccounted for. The ritual must already have started while the first of the three had gotten dressed. Two pairs of boots and armor neatly placed on a bench confirmed that. She had one more chance to watch the ritual but she would need to wait for the next set of doors to open.

At the sound of a splash, she looked back to see her half-brother stepping out of the tub, with his back to her. She covered her mouth as his bare rump cleared the water. His thighs and calves followed, revealing a model of physical perfection down to his feet. His whole body was sculpted from a lifetime of vigorous exercise, especially evident now with his wet coat clinging to the every contour of his youthful and athletic body.

The half-wolf fetched a towel and started to dry himself, oblivious to her presence or gaze. He turned away from the wall and her eyes fell to her half-brother's lemon-sized testicles hanging loosely from the hot water, under a sheath big enough to fit her fist into. She flushed a deep red under thick fur, radiating heat and sweat.

In her isolated life of study, Anastasia hadn't seen a man naked in person, except for Zarron. While some rituals outside of sex magic did require nudity to perform, the raccoon wizard forced her out of the room the few times he needed to, forgetting about her Clairvoyance. For Zarron's dubious morals, he spent a lot of energy convincing himself and them that he was not any kind of pervert around his two, beautiful and large-chested, adoptive, teenage daughters.

Anastasia knew her brothers had traits in common across her, her sister and the rest of the bloodline: they were all endowed beyond exception or reason. It was obvious through their clothes on Stone, the Duodecaplets and even Joseph and Duayne but this was the first time she'd seen any of them naked, at least anywhere past infancy.

She reached down to her sex with a reluctant hand, a part of her body only known through touch and mirrors since her over-development. Trepidatious fingers traced along the split in her thick, pubic fur and reminded herself how small she was in comparison. Her stomach gurgled and she looked away, back to the heavy doors to the Ritual Chamber, wondering how the more petite Marmalade was managing with the second brother but no sound escaped the room. It must be by design, either architecturally or magically. Probably both.

What could they be doing in there? What magic would be so important that it had to be done so immediately? The answers would hopefully come soon enough but in the meantime, she stole another look at her naked, half-wolf brother, who sat down on the bench, in no hurry to get dressed. There was a nervous energy to him as he reclined against the wall, his knees far apart, one foot twitching nervously. His scrotum had tightened up, squeezing skin around those heavy testicles while a slick redness was peeking out of his sheath now. He breathed heavily and stared out into space, lost in thought or more likely, fantasy. Marmalade had made a promise of sex, after all and his brother was in there with her now.

Anastasia's throat was quite suddenly parched and her palms clammy with sweat as she looked on with intrigue. The half-brother shifted himself to sit on his hands, restraining them while hard flesh cast a growing shadow over his belly at a cadence appropriate for a sunrise.

With nothing else to do but wait for the ritual to finish, the vixen's curiosity tugged her step by careful step around the tub towards him, watching his swelling maleness. She arrived at his side, looking down at a monstrous tower of flesh that must be a full erection now, laying along his stomach and reaching the bottom of his sternum in his slouched spinal curve. It was slick and red, self-lubricated and pointed at the tip with a gradual swell to the thickest part halfway down, with a girth comparable to her thin and weak forearm. At the base was a second bulge of similar thickness but shorter, more of a ball or a small orange wrapped tight in glossy, wet skin. While inexperienced around naked men, she'd seen more anatomy drawings for Life Magic than most people would in a lifetime and she knew exactly what a canine penis was supposed to look like.

The glistening flesh stood in stark contrast to his color and texture. She raised a curious, open hand, wondering what it felt like but to touch anyone deliberately while invisible would break the spell. She sighed and glanced back to the Chamber doors, still closed and silent. She moved her arms to restrain her bosom again before leaning in for a closer look, her head over his lap.

There was a strong scent to it and her nose twitched with this new information. She recoiled at first at the pungent intensity, racing her heart the way that magic did when she was unsure of an outcome. It was somewhere between the musk of a hard labor and the smell of the sea, if the sea were hot, almost boiling.

Her belly churned at the second whiff. She twisted away and grabbed her muzzle, wide-eyed and afraid to blow it all with an eruption of her tender stomach but it thankfully held. As the rush of adrenaline passed, she became aware of the next effect beyond her beating heart and salivating mouth: a surge of warmth to her loins. A hand to herself confirmed the arrival of a hot dew at her labia, starting to soak into the surrounding fur.

Eager eyes dragged along his solid shaft, ballooned with blood and excitement. It formed a bridge over his abdominal muscles to his relaxed chest, pectorals built from a lifetime of martial training. The red cock, emerged from his sheath was an appendage so alien and out-of-proportion to his canine body that it almost seemed to be attached as an afterthought. His shoulders were broad from his wolf heritage and singularly-focused physical regiment. Corded, neck muscles held his head upright, as sculpted as the rest of his physique while his face and features were equally wolf-like. Only the peppered birthmarks on his cheeks and throat reminded her that they had a direct, blood relation.

Unlike the Duodecaplets, Anastasia and Evangeline were raised as sisters and some kind of pseudo, adopted daughters to Zarron, with their respective and unfair destinies of Sorceress and Wife. There were but a handful of others that the sorcerer had tried to raise himself: the twin, inbred boys, Tati and Titian and later, Joseph and Duayne for houseboys and Stone, who had been sold but returned.

The Duodecaplets weren't raised by Zarron so much as quartered by him, living in the shadow of their master's uncertainty that they would ever be viable merchandise. He was a presence in their lives as a Master to serve but where Anastasia, Evangeline, Duayne and Joseph had mostly grown up together, the twelve, half-wolf, half-foxes magically split from a single, fertilized egg, had been separated from the household to ensure they never mistook themselves to be a part of it.

And so the naked, handsome and strong young man was more of a stranger than the half-brother she knew him to be and being so near him to him didn't feel as wrong as she expected it would. She held her breath and leaned over and up, her nose hovering by his cheek, studying his face before her eyes dropped back to his erection. She backed away, biting her lower lip.

After a glance over her shoulder to the doors, her hand fell back to her sex, finding the hungry wetness accumulating. Deft fingers lingered against the damp fur and flesh, pushing her lips apart from bottom to top until she pressed her clitoris like a button, inhaling a sucking breath. She stared down his erection and pondered how easily she could mount him though anything entering or exiting her body in front of someone would break the invisibility. She wondered what it would feel like pushing into her for the first time. If it would hurt and if she would bleed. Where would it all go? How long would he take to orgasm? How long would it take her? How had she gotten so close again?

Her free arm moved across the top of her chest, restraining them from bumping his leg while she bent over her half-brother, filling her eyes and nose with his pungent maleness. She pushed a finger into herself, imagining it much bigger and thicker like he was. The through of sex that had made her so physically ill, of having some man's foreign appendage crammed inside her small torso which she was already quite sure was full, didn't seem so disgusting now. Even as huge as he was, it was starting to make sense how it could all work. She gave a long, luxurious sigh as she imagined climbing into his lap and lowering herself on him.

The hybrid wolf-fox's oblivious stupor tightened at once. He felt her breath! Only his relaxed condition made him slow enough that she could observe the subtle change before she scrambled back. He jumped to his feet, looking around alerted, his stiff cock swinging in comedic echo of his every motion.

Anastasia's balance was never great to begin with for her lack of athleticism and coordination and that had only grown worse as the awkward little girl had blossomed into an impractical overabundance of femininity. She backpedaled a few, wobbly steps before falling on her rump on the tile floor, frozen in terror and wincing in pain. Her half-brother scanned over her, still oblivious but eyeing all directions warily.

The Ritual Room doors pushed open abruptly before he could sit down and he righted himself to stand at attention. Their brother emerged, naked with frazzled fur and a half-hard length spilling out from his sheath, quite identical to his freshly bathed sibling but much less tidy. His expression was as blank as the first one of them she'd seen, despite what she presumed was his loss of virginity in the ritual. Were the Duodecaplets always so stoic? They certainly hadn't been at the explanation of what was going to happen.

"Hold the door for your brother." It was Marmalade who called out the command to him, not Zarron. He stopped and obliged.

Anastasia's eyes fell to his white furred chest, which bore dark, red runes of the same, ancient tradition of magic she was using now. They were minor variations on ones she recognized: Loyalty. Duty. Love. Heart. Similar to those but also unique. Almost twisted. Marmalade must have been charming them, which made sense given the circumstances.

Getting up was never easy for Ana's impractical build but at least she was practiced. She planted her feet and rolled forward on her hands, pushing off with enough power to right herself. She wobbled back, her chest sloshing with inertia and countered before she was stable enough to start after him. She was some steps behind now and hurried to catch up, reaching him as he passed by his brother and into the Ritual Room.

Curious, blue eyes darted to estimate the gap between the Duodecaplet who held the door, the other side of the entryway and how much space there was to squeeze between them. Even the broad shouldered young man who entered the room before was not nearly so wide as her chest made her. Brushing against him to get past would break the spell. With the last brother now inside, the second let go of the door.

Ana cursed to herself as the third brother disappeared inside, leaving her a clear view of the space beyond it. She had to think fast. She steadied herself, focusing before a sharp nod of her head and a blink sent her Teleporting barely a few steps forward, past the closing door, her half-brother, and beyond the Wards that protected the doorway. Luckier still, in the low light of the next room, the remnant smoke of her teleportation was difficult to see. She stepped in, clear of the door, which shut behind her.

A sigh of relief was appropriate and well earned before she looked around the room, which she hadn't visited for years. A single tapestry of occult imagery draped each wall of the hexagonal room except for the one she stood at, where the only doors were. At every corner was a pedestal of a macabre gargoyle, demon or other similarly unfriendly statue and framing them were a pair of lit candles on wrought-iron stands. In the center of the room were three steps forming a squat, octagonal pyramid with the top platform several yards across. In the middle of that pyramid of stairs stood a stone alter, some eight feet long and four feet wide, where the feline sorceress reclined, naked, frazzled and panting. Zarron stood at her side.

"They're eager young men, Marmalade. And strong," the raccoon explained with some conciliation. "Maybe you should take a break?"

"Don't patronize me, Zarron. Your boys are freaks! Too big for any normal person," she shook her head with annoyance. "Nobody said magic was easy or painless. But this won't be happening again for them. I hope they enjoy it while they can." She looked up to see the last of three brothers had joined, looking momentarily hurt at her words. "Oh good. At least I don't have to get this one hard. Come up here and lay down on your back." She crawl to the edge, making room for him.

The third Duodecaplet approached the first step, looking curiously around the room. Zarron was clothed on the far side of the altar, holding a masonry bowl with both hands. His eyes then looked back to the naked, orange feline, beckoning him over. She was lithe in build, more thin than fit but youthful and attractive.

He walked carefully up the steps and Anastasia followed behind and at his flank. Marmalade didn't move to accommodate him so he stepped around her to a clear spot before pulling himself up. He scooted up with his erection slapping his chest before laying down, flat on his back then looked to the sorceress with both expectation and apprehension.

With a grumble, she pushed herself up and maneuvered above him with the natural grace of a feline until she settled on his lap, below his scrotum and sheath. Zarron offered the bowl to her which Anastasia, now standing closer to him, saw contained a small amount of blood.