Pairs of Pumpkins #08: Pridemoon's Precipice

Now they were bulk. Trouble. An advertisement that she was exactly what people thought she was. Once delighted in being underestimated for her build but now any onlooker who assumed the worst of her was seeing the tip of the iceberg.

The Life Wizard, Dame Darcy

Portia left Maren's in the morning with both a pit in her stomach and the fires of resolution. She went straight to the High Town Home of Dame Darcy, the Life Wizard, not far from the stag's but she was turned away at her door by a wispy, young houseboy.

"Our Lady is busy today. Come back tomorrow, clean and rested."

His commanding tone for his age was off-putting but she obliged and spent the day wandering the city aimlessly, Maren's seed soaking then eventually drying in the fur of her inner thighs. That night at the inn, she bathed again and went to sleep early for a long but unsatisfying rest.

Crossing the bridge back to High Town, North in the morning, she observed how the homes of the affluent clustered at the skirt of the Lord's Fortress for protection. The towering Keep was easily seen from afar and when she did, she thought ofJasper, somewhere inside those walls. Was he treated like a slave or a son? Did she need to be rescuing them all?

At the front door of Dame Darcy's, Portia was greeted and welcomed in, not by the houseboy but by the Dame herself. She wasted little time in explaining her predicament.

"I appreciate this is a delicate manner, Miss Pridemoon. Nothing you have told here will ever leave this room." Dame Darcy, the Noble, High Town Sorceress of Life Magic was a silken-voiced, middle-aged, kangaroo woman. She sat back in a fine, custom chair that cradled her thick tail where it split her violet robe. In her cross-legged lap, she flipped through an old looking tome with one hand, plucking a grape from a fruit bowl on her blanket-covered desk with the other. Her eyes gestured to the bowl then the vixen, offering.

Incense wafted through the welcoming room. Curtains and cloth of warm reds, pinks and whites covered nearly every hard surface, soft in the late-morning light. There were couches, chairs and cushions abound, the entire space designed for comfort and safety. An altar was at the far end of the room but were it not so high off the ground and narrow, she'd assume it was a bed.

Portia gave a small shake of her head at the offer to a disappointing shrug from Darcy, who continued. "You want me to evaluate your body and blood for some condition that gives you these desires. And I will, though what you describe isn't nearly as dire as you made it sound."

"Really? I had sex my own son. That's a crime punishable by death in some Kingdoms."

"The barbaric ones. He was old enough to know what he was doing?"

"Barely."

"And it was an accident?"

She paused. "Yes."

"How could you possibly have anticipated having children when you've never given birth? Have you considered forgiving yourself?"

"If I could just move on from it? Maybe. But I don't think I can," the vixen sighed and slumped back in her chair.

"Because you liked it."

The vixen's darted back, narrowing. Guilty.

"Your body doesn't care like your mind does but guilt isn't magic, Miss Pridemoon. If it were, there'd be quite an industry for dispelling."

"What happened with my daughter was not an accident."

"Forgive yourself. Move on."

"I told you, Dame Darcy: there's no pleasure anymore in sex but I crave it even more. Like some pit that can never be filled. I've had sex with over forty men in the last two months. Young and old, experienced and not. Only my own son and my own daughter gave me any pleasure. How do I move on from that?"

The kangaroo gave a nonplussed shrug. "Well, if they also like it, you could accept and enjoy it?" Portia growled and Dame Darcy took a moment to consider." You've exhausted your options for curses and enchantments and that led you to me. So I have to ask: was there anything special? About sex with your son?"

"He was amazing. Like nothing ever experienced. And he's young. A virgin! I've known many skilled lovers but never one so natural."

Dame Darcy inhaled deeply. "Yes. Indeed. You're getting turned on just thinking about him."

Portia collapsed back into her seat and erupted into tears. "Please. Help me."

Dame Darcy frowned and dipped her muzzle. "Of course, Miss Pridemoon. I will scan you with my most thorough magic. A ritual that will map your body, blood and life essence."

At the Life Wizard's instructions, Portia stripped and laid back on the altar. The relagite charm was removed and tossed into the pile of her clothes and armor, in one of her boots, to find it later. Dame Darcy started to chant while Portia stared at the complexities of the ceiling, trying to calm her mind. The kangaroo's hands moved over her, somewhere between a massage and hypnosis. Time melted away. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep?

"I am finished with the ritual. Open your eyes."

She did, to find the matronly kangaroo restraining an excited smile.

"Your blood is very potent, Miss Pridemoon. Or do you still go by Princess Vasiljev in private company?"

The excitement Portia started to build, melted instantly. "I promised you full confidentiality. You should have told me but after a look at your blood, there's obviously something remarkable here. That combined with these breasts? For once, you're lucky that your family keeps you all so covered up and repressed. Not many people remember that the Vasiljev bloodline was once known for their prodigious endowments. If the Pale Lands weren't so isolated, they'd perhaps be famous for them."

Portia held her reaction as best she could. None of it made sense and the kangaroo's smile cracked more broadly.

"Of course, no one would tell you. The Pale Lands have been one of the most culturally oppressively places in the land for hundreds of years but before your Grandmother, Inga took the throne, the royal family didn't have to hide under piles of furs, like they do now. You probably know she was only of the age of twelve when she took the throne. So much power to give to a shy and developing teenager. Inga had all the windows removed at Snowcourt Castle, so it'd always be freezing inside."

"I'd never heard that. How did you know?"

"Because she went to extreme measures to convince people it was an old tradition and not a new one. You have to be pretty old and have some connection to The Pale Lands to have heard those stories."

Portia's forehead crinkled and her head tilted aside. "You don't look so old."

"There are a number of ways to thwart the entropy of time, Miss Pridemoon," Dame Darcy replied before her polite smile spread slightly wider. "But you already know that."

The vixen's brows raised to their widest yet before the kangaroo continued.

"Life magic tends to come with fewer strings than most other options." Dame Darcy reached out to pet her forehead and repeated with a whisper in her ear: "full confidentiality." Her touch was calming and unsubtle in it's influence.

Darcy straightened herself out again. "Your body is incredible but your blood is the real story: a vast river, frozen-over: impressive on its own but there is so much beneath the surface. Latent power. Magical affinity. You must have some aversion to the magical arts and sciences to carry that charm but had you studied it, you'd be a natural. No wonder that this wizard who you won't name wanted your bloodline. He knew you more than just royal.

"The Vasiljev family has long ruled the Pale Lands but there are old and forbidden stories that you weren't always so chaste and pure. That your endowments weren't some kind of test or curse but that your kind had been bred over the generations to be that way. Perhaps even that you are the watered down version of your lineage's true legacy?" The kangaroo stopped and considered her next words. "Portia, I am not going to tell you that inbreeding is in your blood specifically but it is almost certainly in your history."

The vixen laid back, her mouth dry and her stomach shallow and the kangaroo comforted with a hand on her head again.

"Perhaps this reunion activated a latent trait of your breeding. A predisposition to pursue your own kind but just as likely that you've just never been with someone so naturally, sexually compatible. Either way, this might be the way things are for you now."

The kangaroo matron frowned while the vixen withered at her words. "Again, you should consider the stigmas of such activities are more cultural than biological, both in the animal kingdom and the societies of The Folk. I don't know what your family taught you and you seem to shaken off most of their legacy but the culture of The Pale Lands is nothing short of abusive. Yours is not the only royal line to ever practice inbreeding and in some societies, it's not even frowned upon. Especially if, as you say, you cannot bear the fruit of such a pairing?"

Portia turned on her side away from Darcy and was sneering in disgust at the end of her explanation.

"These are just theories, Portia. Not necessarily truths. Your blood is powerful but written in a language that is overwhelming. There's a lot I could get wrong. I do have one other theory I would like to test with you but I will need your permission to enter your mind."

"Whatever it takes."

Dame Darcy reached out and guided Portia to lay back again. "Close your eyes, Portia." She obliged and fingers came to her temples. "Now, think about your children. The ones you've met. In order."

Strangely, it was easy to concentrate despite the duress before occurring to her that Darcy, as a Life Sorceress, might be helping. She obliged and thought of Joseph with a shudder. Then Evangeline and Anastasia, the daughters she'd only met for a moment.

"Oh... Anastasia is a sorceress? You must send her to study with me when you find her again."

There was no point in nodding. Darcy was inside her head, and she continued down the line. Anya. Edgar. Evita. Marina. Siena. Bowen. Jasper. Shit.

Portia's eyes opened sharply and Dame Darcy's were right there above hers. Strained or not, Darcy had some relation to the nobility of sorcery of Stusport, which meant some connection with the city's rulers. Jasper was the adopted child of the Lord and Lady of Stusport and she was going to steal Jasper away from his home. Dame Darcy only smiled and repeated: "Full confidentiality. A child should know their mother."

It was the firmest she'd spoken yet but landed like a blow from a pillow. The kangaroo's hand rubbed over her forehead again but a second hand landed at the warmth of her sex. The fox was already wet. "Close your eyes again, Portia."

"Think about Marina. And Joseph. What they did to you." Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling as the blood rushed around under her fur. The suggestion made her think of Joseph. The mental image of him came easily, undressed and aroused. Sucking his cock. Beneath her as she descended on him. Mounting her. Knotted inside her ass. Cumming inside her a second time, even when she knew. "The mere thought of him has you flush and ready. You're so certain this is an enchantment?"

"Are you going to test your theory or not?"

"Keep your eyes closed." Portia cracked an eye to watch Dame Darcy slip away and walk to a shelf full of jars, the kind every alchemist seemed to have but these contents were more consistent. Each contained a bundle of dried sticks or leaves, labeled with names of obscure herbs and other plants. Some she had heard of, most she had not. Darcy fetched the contents of one and brought it to a nearby brazier. The aroma was something complete new. "Eyes closed, please."

Portia obliged and the wizard waved the bundle of sticks around, wafting smoke through the room, warm and pungent until it crept up her nose like a liquid. "This is Oteek. It doesn't alter your thoughts at all but loosens the stranglehold your mind has on your perception." The vixen's body tingled with sensation and for a moment she thought she could hear her own pulse, throbbing in her ears.

"Open your eyes."

Portia did, to find Dancy no longer at the side. Standing there instead was her daughter, Marina, wearing the much larger kangaroo's robes. The half-mink daughter's brown-furred hands crept up almost unconsciously to grope her own massive, teenage breasts appreciatively. "Amazing," she smiled before she shrugged off the robe and let it fall from her shoulders.

"What are you..." Portia started to sit up but the half fox, half-mink visage of her daughter reached for her shoulders to hold her down, strength surprising for her slight build. She brought her muzzle over Portia's.

"I'm only going to say this once, Portia and then I am going to play the part: I'm not your daughter." She spoke with Marina's voice. "I want to give you this opportunity: if you're really cursed or enchanted, magic won't be deceived and you're not going to be satisfied. If it does..."

Portia was frozen and somewhere beneath the combined collision of mountainous, vixen bosoms, a delicate hand found her sex again, cupping it. The fur of her hand was soft but not soft enough. The touch was not the way Marina touched her.

"Fine."

The sorceress, now a doppelganger of the vixen's daughter, brought her other hand to Portia, rubbing up her arm and to her shoulder, claws gently tracing down the nape of her neck then up to her mouth.

"Do you smell her?"

Portia drew a slow inhale, finding her little like her natural scent but Marina perfumed herself with saffron. She insisted, even while working at the bakery. There was no saffron here. And then there was. Another inhale confirmed the perfume in her fur. Not strong enough. Too strong. Just right. How had she missed that before? The more she thought of Marina's scent, the more accurate it became until it was her, both natural and altered.

"How about now?"

The doppelganger's smile hinted at pride. Her finger drew a line down Portia's muzzle and crept down to a breast. Right as she found a stiff nipple, two fingers of her other hand dipped inside her and the vixen gasped.

Portia reached for the hand at her groin, feeling over the fur of her doppelganger-daughter 's forearm. Softer now and getting softer still. Fur was like a fine powder of volcanic ash for a moment. Too soft. No, just right. She felt like Marina. It was Marina.

Groaning, the vixen lidded her eyes while intimate fingers began to move in a more familiar way. There had only been the two times Marina had touched her, but she knew the difference long enough for the difference to fade away.

"Getting warmer..."

Marina stepped around to the short end of the altar and hooked her arms under Portia's knees before tugging her pelvis to the edge. That surprising strength again. Her frail daughter couldn't have done it but in her guise, Darcy grabbed Portia's wrists then and tugged her to sit up, face-to-face and breast-to-breast with her daughter's now perfect likeness.

She lingered with a mischievous smile before lunging in, pressing her muzzle to Portia's in a lustful kiss. A hand dove under their combined chests to touch her again, just like Marina would touch her. Waves of potential surged through her nerves. It was almost unconscious how the vixen moved her hand to sink fingers into her daughter's plush breast.

Marina pulled back, still smiling and ducked under her mother's heavy chest. The view of her was blocked but her intention was obvious and quickly confirmed: her muzzle dove in against her sex, licking and lashing with a skilled tongue. It was a move was uncharacteristically aggressive of her daughter but the touch was completely familiar. Marina's tail raised up along Portia's face and draped over her shoulder, tickling her with soft fur, trying to wag.

The room throbbed with her pulse. Time was meaningless. Tides of pleasure nipped at her body, ripe with promise. The guilt lingered in the back of her mind but she focused on the sensations. There was nothing left to identify her as anyone but Marina in the way she looked, felt and moved but her ministrations eventually plateaued, just short of climax. The rhythm changed. Her tongue was getting tired. Portia slumped and grinned, for the first time satisfied to not be satisfied.

Marina's reaction was instant: she lunged, pushing back her mother on pillows and scooting up, along her, hardly room for the both of them and their combined breasts on the altar. That incredibly soft hand was back at Portia's burning arousal, resuming at the intensity her mouth had left off at. "You're so wonderful, Mother. You deserve this," she said, staring down her muzzle. Her fingers were deft and skilled, playing her body like an instrument while her sleek muzzle kissed and nipped at Portia's neck. "Your children love you, Mother. We love you. I love you. We need you. I need you. And I need you to cum for me."

Those words. From her daughter. In this moment. She recalled the intensity with Marina previously and the wave surged. "Look at me, Mother. Look at me while I make you cum." Her daughter had never been so intense with her but the tides of pleasure started to swell. It was dark out now. When had that happened? Portia couldn't close her eyes. The touch was belligerent, knowing she was close, like water finding a way through.

"Nonononono..." Portia grimaced before Marina dove in to interrupt her. Lips met, then tongues before the mother vixen squinted and shrunk before squealing. The wave crashed over her, and she broke the kiss in her need to moan out in explosive, shameful release.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, she was finally cumming, from Marina's relentlessly agile touch, delicate fingers inside her curled back against her thumb, pressing from the outside. Not her daughter's fingers. Dame Darcy. Her whole body buckled then released, all tension melting away.

It had taken all day but she was cumming, without any family members or ridiculous scrolls. She smiled at first, a breath of a laugh but the weight of how returned with the next inhale. Her exhaustion caught up to her and she collapsed back on the altar.

* * *

"Mother?"

Portia cracked an eye open to find she'd moved. She was in a bedroom now, blurry and vague, against a wonderfully soft body. Marina was at her side. "There you are, Mother. We were starting to worry." she smiled and leaned in to kiss her muzzle. Her body was drunk with sleep but instinctively, she leaned in to meet her.

"Where'd we go?"

"To the bedroom, Mother," a masculine voice said behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see the bed extended and behind her, her son Joseph placed his hand on her thigh. He was naked and as erect as could be.

Portia tried to get up with a burst of energy and resistance but four familiar hands were too hard to pull away from.

"We weren't done yet. I've been like this for hours, waiting for you to wake up. It hurts, Mother. " He guided her muzzle from Marina's to his, pressing a kiss then his tongue into her muzzle. Portia tried to protest but his kiss melted her defenses, then his hand groped her breast clumsily once he had. "I want to fuck you so bad."

"We can't," she muttered before his tongue filled her mouth.

"Can't? Whose stopping us?" Marina lay close and reached down to Portia's sex, pressing her finger along it. "Feel this, Joseph," she reached out for his hand. "Mother's soaking wet already. It happens every time she thinks about you."

Joseph and Portia kissed, tongues dancing openly as his finger curled to push inside her, clumsy and indelicate but warmly familiar. "I'm so hard, Mother. I don't care what the stupid rules are. I need to fuck you!" His muzzle moved down her neck in nips and kisses.

"Joseph, nooooo," she protested and pushed him weakly away, but he was back at her neck, climbing on top of her and positioning himself between her legs.