JACKED

Thursday, 12:01pm

	"But moooom, why can’t we go too?"
	Jack’s mother didn’t stop to face him as she hauled luggage into the entry hall.
	"Because, honey," she said, "this is my and your father’s anniversary, and that means we get to spend time alone for a little bit."
	Jack shoved his hands into his pockets.  The ten-year-old was certainly not thrilled at the prospect of being stuck at home with a babysitter for the weekend while his parents jetted off to Rio.  That meant he’d have to help take care of his younger sister too, and he already couldn’t stand putting up with her nonsense when his parents were around.
	"I don’t want Beth to babysit us," Jack continued.  "She puts us to bed at eight!"
	Donning her sunglasses, his mother opened the door and began handing off suitcases to his father, who ran them down to the car.
	"She puts you to bed at eight because I tell her to put you to bed at eight, Jack," she said.  "And don’t be so melodramatic, you always have fun when she babysits you."
	Jack was indignant, "I’m not a baby, though!"
	"When you turn twelve, you can babysit your sister alone," his mother sighed.  She handed the last suitcase to her husband and stepped up to her son.
	"You’ll have a great weekend," she said, kissing him on the forehead and ruffling his brown hair.
	Jack wrinkled his face, "I wish I could."
	His mother wore sunglasses, but he knew she was rolling her eyes as she often did when he talked back to her.
	"I know you will," she said, walking through the door.  "I love you, babe!  We’ll see you on Sunday night!"
	The door closed and locked.  Jack’s perpetual frown grew astonishingly more sour.
	"I wish I could..."

	With a pungent burst of blue smoke, Clara the Fairy was flung into the neighboring dimension—that was, the one in which the Humans lived.  Her wings batted desperately against Earth’s stronger gravity until she caught herself less than a foot from the ground.  Composing herself and inspecting her surroundings, she immediately saw that the Humans’ held possessions familiar and yet quite alien to her.  Everything was larger, of course.  Whereas the average Human stood around five feet tall, fairies tended to hover around the six-inch zone, and so, naturally, the objects used in Fairy homemaking were proportionately tinier.
	Spying a nearby bookcase, Clara fluttered to its roof and took a seat to catch her breath.  She wiggled her toes, noting how much drier Human air was than that in the Feymarch, the realm of Fairies.  Clara would have made for an outrageous-looking Human, but was by all means a very plain-looking Fairy.  Her short bob cut had a very slight ruffle to it, and was a vivid aqua-blue that shimmered a faint shade of violet when the light hit it just right.  She wore no clothing—very few fairies did—but was adorned with a provocative series of red body tattoos which created quite a mosaic on her pale skin.  Her body was toned, but not quite buff, curving gracefully inward at her waist.  She thought she had a nice figure, but was comfortable knowing that it wasn’t about to become subject to someone else’s descriptions.
	Wrapping her arms around her knees, she scanned the interior horizon anxiously.  Her partner had been right behind her, but as far as she could tell, hadn’t yet emerged from the interdimensional gateway.  Clara put her hands on the ground and crossed her naked legs, bobbing her higher foot up and down when she caught a whiff of a familiar, sulphuric odor.
	Out of the ensuing burst of pink smoke emerged Diana, who was far more graceful in her entrance.  Daintily twining her feet one behind the other, she set touched down before Clara.
	"Were you waiting long?" Diana asked with sugar in her voice.
	"No," Clara said, rising to her feet, "but we were already running late."
	"Oh, bother," Diana laughed with a beat of her wings, blowing back some of the dust that had settled atop the bookcase.
	Diana, whose hot-pink hair curved upward and back like half of a crescent moon, also wore no clothes, but after seeing what they did for Humans, Clara secretly wished she would.  Keeping what Clara would have called a "dramatic" hourglass figure, Diana seemed to flaunt herself without even trying.  Her ample (read large) breasts and buttocks defied even Earth’s gravity (though Clara suspected she used a spell for that,) and her whole body, a sultry shade of tan extensively tattooed with a black tendril pattern, was packed with a noticeable amount of muscle.
	For all Diana’s good looks, Clara found her to be a massive headache at the best of times, one who looked out only for herself and could easily have cared less about fulfilling her obligations.  When the academy headmistress Athenon had paired the two of them together for this assignment, Clara had been afraid she’d done some grave offense to the woman.
	But that was right, Clara had to remind herself: Diana was the headmistress’s perfect, model daughter.  Clara didn’t understand where Diana got it; Headmistress Athenon was wound up tighter than a spool of golden Pixie silk, and her daughter hung loose—though nothing really hung and nothing looked loose.
	"We were running late," Clara continued, getting in Diana’s stupid smiling face, "because you had to make your hair go up!"
	Diana raised the back of her hand to her crescent-do as if wounded, "But my dear, up is the style now!"
	Clara rolled her eyes, but went rigid as Diana took a step forward and gave her blue head a sharp ruffle.
	"—Although you didn’t know that, did you?"
	Swatting the harlot’s hand away, Clara folded her arms.
	"We need to move if we want to get this done!" the blue-haired Fairy bit.
	"And I believe you’ll find our man standing in the adjacent hall," Diana said, holding an open arm toward the next room over.
	Clara frowned and turned to Diana’s indication.  In the distance, a Human with its back turned stood before a large doorway.
	"I’ll race you, Clara-honey," Diana sang as she took wing in the Human’s direction.
	Keeping her groan to herself, Clara took off in tow of her impossible partner, blinking to avoid letting Diana’s stupid pink fairy dust into her eyes.
	This was Clara’s first field assignment as an upperclassman of the Fairy Stewardship Academy, so to be in Diana’s company was particularly troubling.  Fairy Stewards were responsible for ensuring the continued happiness of Human individuals, often through use of their magical capabilities.  The Feymarch and the Netherrealm, as it was known among Fairies, generated opposing energies which, when balanced, did not affect either dimensional zone, but when imbalanced could shatter one or the other.  Using controversial black-and-white terms, the Feymarch generated "good" energy, while the Netherrealm generated "bad" energy, and for many ages, the two energies remained in more or less appropriate balance.  However, following the rise of man within the Netherrealm, bad energy levels hit an upslope, growing exponentially as the history of Humankind wore on.  When Humans began organizing the first armies for the first wars, the ruling council of Fairies determined their people would need to embark on an aggressive countermeasure to combat the rising tide of bad energy.  Thus, the first teams of Fairies began traveling to the Netherrealm, seeking out the disaffected and downtrodden in order to ease their sorrows, and thereby sedate the forces tearing at the fabric of the Feymarch.
	Clara wasn’t so sure how beckoning to the petty whims of individuals was enough to settle the interdimensional tension, but it had been working for many millennia, so she felt out of place questioning the ruling council’s logic.
	Diana rose to what appeared to be a hanging lamp in the hallway and mantled herself inside.  Clara couldn’t help but feel her spirits dip as she observed the buxom fairy lift herself over the rim with spread, shapely legs, but she gave herself a mental slap as she joined her in the opaque glass lamp-bowl.  Running a hand through her mussed-up hair and peering over the edge, Clara spied the Human, still with its back turned.
	"Right," she murmured, pulling back.  "You remembered the scroll, right, Diana?"
	Clara turned her head in time to see Diana pluck the small scroll from her absurd cleavage, earning herself a contemptuous glare from the blue-headed Fairy.
	"Calm yourself, Clara," Diana said with a tisk.  "I did bathe this morning."
	Clara was grinding her teeth, "Read the damn scroll."
	With a neat flick, Diana unfurled the roll of parchment and held it at chin level, pouting her lips as her eyes read its contents.
	Out loud, you bitch!
	"Yes," Diana said.  "It seems we are here to grant the wish of a mister Simon Prince, to affect both himself and his wife, missis Melanie Prince, for their vacation to Rio de Janeiro.  Mister Prince hereby wishes for this vacation to be..."
	Diana paused as she looked about to snicker.  Clara frowned.
	"What does it say?"
	"‘Fruitful,’ it says." Diana laughed.
	Clara’s face sunk, "Oh..."
	Diana curled up the paper and tucked it back between her prominent breasts, "In a nutshell, find a way to make the Princes’ bedtime adventures more fulfilling."
	Hearing Diana’s nutshell assessment didn’t make Clara feel any better.  She had really hoped her first assignment would be to do something like cure a sick child or stop someone’s house from being repossessed.  Instead, she was stuck making sure some well-to-do got some action in the sack.  Maybe Diana was the right person for this job after all.
	"So, Diana," Clara began, "I’m pretty much gonna go ahead and let you have the final say on however we, ah, enrich mister Prince’s trip to Rio, but for the sake of making this a team effort, I’ll just pitch you a couple ideas—"
	"Oh, dear, just spare me the anguish and I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you when we get home!" Diana said, sticking her nose to the skies and flourishing her hand.
	Clara was immobilized by Diana’s attitude.  She had only enough momentum left to sit herself down against the inner rim of the lamp.
	Diana rose to the air on her iridescent wings, going through a series of quick hand motions.  A pinkish aura glowed from within her as her spell neared its casting point.  Her full lips began forming the shapes of ancient words.
	Clara cast one more feeble look over the lamp’s edge at mister Prince, and immediately felt a jolt of shock and panic shoot up her spine.  She sprang to her feet and in no time soared at Diana, whose hands housed the spell’s focal point.  The pink fairy seemed too engaged with her incantation to catch Clara rocketing for her.  The blue fairy came within inches of her counterpart when, with a soft resonance, the spell was cast, and it was over.
	It was too late for Clara to stop, though.  She smacked face first into Diana’s hard shoulder, feeling tears well up in her eyes.  The fairies hurtled toward the floor of the Princes’ house, and landed with a muffled thud in the soil of a potted tree.
	Clara blinked out of her impact stupor, slowly realizing she’d soft-landed face-first into Diana’s giant boobs.  Their mission scroll hung out of her mouth like a pacifier.  Clara spat it out as she sat up, thunking it against Diana’s forehead.
	"You know, Clara-dear," Diana muttered, still laying down with a hand against her shoulder, "it’s fine by me if you like to end an assignment with a little intimacy, but your game really needs some refinement."
	"Diana, shut up," Clara interrupted.  "I’m guessing you didn’t happen to notice that the ‘mister Prince’ you just charmed was just a kid!"
	Diana raised herself, adjusting her pink pompadour.
	"Did you hear me, Diana?"
	"Well, what?" Diana asked.  "Does that have to be a bad thing?  Prince is going to Rio, the happiest place in the Netherrealm!  I think it’s unlikely he’s not going to get laid as it is."
	Clara almost couldn’t find the words to fight back at the boobs-with-a-Fairy-attached that sat before her, "You—do you hear what you’re saying!"
	"The way I see it," Diana replied, casually composed, "Mister and Missis Prince are gonna get lucky anyway, and Prince junior is going to discover the finer side of burgeoning adolescence."
	Clara felt panic beginning to set in, "No, no, no, Diana, you’re not getting it.  There are laws against this kind of thing, Fairy laws and Human laws, I’m sure.  The academy forbids this kind of thing—"
	"The academy isn’t going to know any better," Diana brushed her off.  "They’ll think we made the Prince parents happy, and then just think the kid is some freak of nature, and that’s if they even bother to check up on these guys after—"
	"Wait, wait, wait," Clara interjected with a trembling hand.  "You said they’d think he was a ‘freak of nature?’  What—what do you—what is that supposed to mean, what did you do to him?"
	"You know," Diana shrugged, "just a little enhancement ditty...the engorged sort of enhancement."
	Clara was on her knees, face buried in her hands.  "This is it.  Five and a half years at the academy, and my future as a stewardess is over before it even starts!"
	Diana was silent for a moment, but a conspicuous-looking smirk appeared on her face.  Noticing, Clara tried piercing into her with her eyes.
	"What?" Clara asked.  "I really hope you’re not thinking you’re going to get out of this just because your mother—"
	"Oh, no, no," Diana snickered.  "It’s just funny, because that spell I sent out should’ve automatically sought out Mrs. Prince as well."
	Clara’s eyes thinned as she dreaded to learn what Diana was talking about.  "Why is that funny?"
	"Assuming," Diana said, "that the parents already left because we got here late, that spell probably just went after someone else who was nearby."
	An invisible hand seemed to clutch Clara’s heart.  "Who?"
	Diana looked at her.  "What?"
	As her repressed hatred gurgled in her throat, Clara reared and leapt at Diana, shoving and pinning her into the moist dirt.  Blinded by irateness, Clara, without thinking, seized Diana’s fat, stupid nipples between both her thumbs and forefingers and gave them a rough twist, finally eliciting a response she wanted to hear from the pink bimbo in the form of a sharp yelp.
	"WHO DID IT GO AFTER, YOU CUNT!?"
	Diana only bit her lip, so Clara twisted the spongy nubs harder.
	"I don’t know!” she grunted, surprisingly maintained.  “My incantation wasn’t that specific!"
	Clara frowned, realizing that Diana was trembling and perspiring quite a bit.  Peering down, she saw Diana’s powerful hips bucking into her own cupped hand, flexing remarkably with each thrust.  The sudden flash of understanding quickly transformed Clara’s rage into crushing hopelessness.
	“You’ve got some power in those tiny fingers of yours,” Diana moaned as she pressed her pelvis directly against Clara’s.  “They’re—Oh, I’m gonna—!!”
	This, Clara thought, was going to be a long assignment.Thursday, 6:50pm

	"So, Jack," Elizabeth said from across the dinner table, "how is school going?"
	Jack mashed his peas with his fork, "School’s boring."
	Elizabeth, a seventeen-year-old high school student who lived a neighborhood over, was a slender girl with short, layered hair that was naturally blonde, but dyed something closer to goldenrod on the ends.  She had faint freckles on her nose and very fair skin with pale pink lips.  Her skinny physique in concert with her usual wardrobe of jeans and mens’ coats made her attractive in a tomboyish sort of way, though she had remained single since her last "relationship" in the fourth grade.
	Gulping down a forkful of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Elizabeth looked at Annelise, Jack’s eight-year-old sister, who shyly picked at her food.
	"And how is the third grade, Leesy?"
	Annelise made partial eye-contact with Elizabeth, but, as she always did, stared at the ground when she began speaking.
	"Today, we got a tank of eggs that’re gonna turn into salmon."
	"Fish are boring," Jack muttered, making a mashed potato hurricane on his plate.
	Annelise busied herself eating again.  Jack was the only person to whom Annelise could speak without breaking eye contact, but Jack was never in the mood for any of it.  As a result, Annelise had little way of building the confidence to carry conversation.
	"I think that’s very cool, Leesy," Elizabeth said, using her pet name for the girl.
	"Can I watch TV after dinner?" Jack asked.
	Elizabeth gave him a tired look.  "Did you finish your homework?"
	"Yeah," he said just a bit too quickly.  "I finished it right before dinner."
	"Alright, but only until 7:30," she told him.  "Then you need to start getting ready for bed."
	Dinner passed in relative silence.  Jack ate only bits and pieces of his meal, to Elizabeth’s chagrin.  As she collected their plates and silverware, Annelise skipped into the TV room with Jack a few steps behind.
	Annelise leapt onto the sofa, "C’mon Jack, let’s watch something!"
	Jack took one step when a sudden sensation froze him in place.  It felt as if someone had lit a match and dropped into his pants.  His groin burned and stung painfully, not just on the skin, but inside of him as well.  Groaning, Jack pressed his legs together and began hobbling toward the bathroom.
	"Jaaack," Annelise pestered.
	"Be...quiet," he hissed.  "I’ll come back later."
	The burning persisted, and Jack managed to hit a running pace to get into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he stumbled in.  Nearly tearing his pants off, he pulled on the elastic of his boxers to examine the inflamed area.  He wasn’t quite getting enough light, so he dropped the boxer around his ankles for a better look.
	At first, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, but after a few seconds Jack began to think he was seeing his penis slowly changing color.  Supposition turned into realization as the skin turned a burning red and started to itch mercilessly.  Jack grunted and began scratching at his hairless groin, trying vainly to ease the scourge upon his skin.  As he did, he felt the blood begin to flow, and his penis started to swell as it did whenever he would think perverse thoughts or look at naughty pictures.  It sprung to its mark, hard at about two inches.
	Yet, something was different now.
	The veins on Jack’s penis appeared much thicker than usual, and pulsed visibly.  As they did, he felt a great pressure within his shaft and testicles.  He watched in morbid fascination as, amazingly, his dick continued to increase in size before his very eyes.  It grew like a balloon being very slowly filled with air, gaining length, width, and height.  In about thirty seconds, it had grown longer than his middle finger, and as thick as his big toe.  His whole crotch tingled, a feeling that was frightening, but pleasing all the same.  About a minute had passed now, and not only had his dick grown to about six inches, but his balls hung heavy and swollen too.  Jack panted anxiously.  His swelling penis showed no sign of slowing as it hit eight inches.  The pressure and tingling sensations had by now grown quite pleasurable to him, curling his toes and tightening his calves.
	At last, after two minutes, it stopped.  Jack stared, glaze-eyed at his new penis, which stood tall at over thirteen inches, shiny and trembling, thick as a cucumber and red as a radish.  His balls had plumped to the size of chicken eggs, and dangled with impressive weight in their hairless sack.  He turned to the mirror on the door, marveling at the equipment he now sported.  The shaft itself was easily as long as his forearm!
	Tempted by gripping curiosity, Jack set a hand on the log sprouting from between his legs, running it gently along the surface, feeling its hard back and softer underside.  As he reached the now plum-sized head and felt it fill his palm, something new happened.  Out of his urethra oozed maybe a tablespoon of translucent fluid into his hand.  Whatever it was, Jack thought, it wasn’t urine.  It was thick and sticky.  It ran between his fingers and fell in smaller droplets onto his boxers, which were still around his ankles.  Further piqued, Jack wrapped both hands around his impressive shaft and gave it a squeeze.  Intense feelings of pleasure and warmth rippled through his body as his grip tightened.  At the fat tip of his dick, he could see more of the fluid beginning to bead out.  Struck by instinct, Jack ran his tight hands up the shaft.  A great glob of the fluid spilled out this time, splatting on the tile floor.  Feeling it rise up his dick was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.  It was so hot, and slimy, and just dribbled out in such a huge amount.
	Jack sat on the toilet, and built a pace on his monster cock, pumping it up and down.  Each two-handed stroke brought greater quantities of his juice flooding out of his urethra.  It plopped onto the floor and started leaking and dripping across the taut skin of his dick.  He found his pleasure was intensified when he used his slime as a slick.  Each pump made a distinct splick noise, each great drop on the floor went pit-pit-pit.
	Wonderful seconds passed, and something euphoric was happening below the base of his dick and inside his swollen balls.  Jack seemed to be reaching some sort of milestone as his hands sped up and his juice almost began pouring out in a continuous stream.  He held his breath and bit his lip as his intense pleasure seemed to hit maximum and something massive began rising up his dick, rising, rising, until it tickled his urethra for just a moment.
	Then it all came out.
	A gigantic squirt of pearly white fluid erupted from Jack’s dick, easily as thick as a pen where it first came out, arcing at least three feet into the air before cresting and raining down onto the floor.  It looked as if someone had chucked a glassful of milk into the air, but it was Jack.  It was Jack’s dick, and right now, it was making his whole body feel like it was on some wonderful kind of fire, like it was every Christmas and every birthday he’d ever had all at once, every good feeling multiplied by a thousand, like the feeling his tongue would get when he tasted candy, throughout his entire body, though primarily in his dick.
	The burst of the milky juice squirted from his cannon for three straight, glorious seconds, bursting with musky aroma.  Then, with an involuntary flex of his titanic member, a second, even larger stream came gushing out, flying over the shower rack and landing in the bathtub with a loud schbbbbppptt.  To anyone else, it might have sounded like he’d just turned on the bath faucet.  Jack’s breath was ragged, his muscles were seizing, his arm-sized cock stood hard as steel, its thick veins throbbing visibly.  The second spurt lasted at least five seconds, its thick volume stretching his urethra wonderfully, the pearly arc leaving a gooey trail plastering the shower curtain, the floor, and the pants around his ankles.
	Thinking it had to be over, Jack’s heart almost stopped as he felt another load of milk piping up his dick.  It geysered out with an audible squrrrrrt, splattering against the ceiling and raining down in large globs onto Jack’s shirt and face.  A little bit landed on his tongue, burning his tastebuds with its super saltiness.  Without thinking, he gulped down the bead of his juice, shivering as it ran down his throat.  His penis bobbed up and down as it sprayed his milk into the air, showering the entire bathroom like a loose firehose.  His hurtling juice landed on the framed pictures on the wall, inside the scented candles, on the bathmat, all over the towels in the basket on the ground, and all over himself.  
	More amazingly, his dick still had an additional three salvos left to splatter all over the bathroom walls and floor, each almost as wet and plentiful as the last, each slapping loudly on impact.  By the time Jack was left panting and all out of juice, the entire bathroom seemed to be glazed in his sticky white fluids.  His monstrous pork sword twitched pleasantly, still coated in its own juices.  Ropes of his milk swung down from the ceiling, pooling on the ground.  Jack himself had been heavily plastered by his outpour, and he realized as the fog cleared from his head that he’d have to find a way to explain all of this to Elizabeth once he got out.
	Hoisting his soggy pants over his hips, the ten-year-old also realized he’d have to find a way to cram his new package into his now too-small jeans.  His dick was slowly growing softer and losing altitude, and after a few seconds of it deflating, Jack did his best to roll it up and stuffed it into his boxers.  Pulling up his fly was an ordeal entirely on its own, and he didn’t even try to close the button.  He saw that he was bulging prominently at the crotch, and thought to himself that if he could stay out of sight as much as possible, he’d be able to hide his engorged shame from the babysitter.
	Wiping himself down as best he could with a damp bath towel, Jack examined himself once again in the mirror.  It looked like he’d stuck a couple of oranges into the front of his pants and had been in a fierce squirt-gun fight with his clothes on.  It would have to do, he thought.  Elizabeth would be expecting him to get ready for bed any minute now.  He stepped toward the door and wrapped his prickling fingers around its handle, taking a courageous breath as with his other hand he switched off the lights and undid the lock.

	"ATTA BOY, JOHNNY!" Diana cheered from the other end of the shower rack.
	Clara scowled at the lard-headed woman, who had been a bit more than willing to watch the young Prince kid shoot quarts of semen all over the place.  The aftermath was shocking, she admitted, giving credit to the potency of Diana’s spell, but the effects of her sexual magic were going to get them into deep trouble with the academy if they weren’t reversed quickly.
	"Okay, you saw your show," Clara grumbled.  "Now do you have a counterspell we can use?"
	"Don’t get your wings all ruffled," Diana chastised her.  "I wanna see what happens to that babysitter first!"
	Clara wanted to scream, but kept her cool, wishing not for a repeat of the whole titty-twister episode.
	"You seem awfully sure your spell went for the sitter woman," Clara said, catching an unwanted whiff of the boy’s spent seed.  She coughed in her throat.  "How do you know..."
	Diana chuckled, "What, that it didn’t hit that little girl instead?"
	Clara cast her a serious look.
	"Well," Diana continued, "I don’t know."
	Clara’s eyes flared fiercely.  With every sentence, this pink slut was asking to get her wings ripped out.  Yet, the bodacious woman seemed not to even notice the loathing she radiated.  She just sat there, her meaty legs crossed seductively at the knees, her ample chest jostling between her biceps as she giggled to herself.  Clara had only disliked her at the outset; now she despised her.  The implication of being charged with criminal offenses seemed to amuse her, making Clara’s own panic so much worse.
	"You do realize," Clara said slowly, "that if that little girl experiences changes anything like her brother’s, no one is going to be happy, right?  Not us, not the Prince family—"
	Diana flitted into the air, gliding in front of Clara with nonchalance.
	"You always sound so sure of yourself, my darling," she said, unnecessarily running her hands up her formidable figure.  "We’re Fairies, Clara.  We’re allowed to have this sort of fun in the Netherrealm."
	"No, that’s Imps," Clara jabbed.
	Diana clasped her hands on the back of her head, batting her long lashes.  She smirked at Clara.
	"Right," she said.  "Imps."
	Uncomfortable clarity seeped into Clara’s head as she reexamined Diana’s body.  The tan skin, the effortless athletic build, the rebel attitude—
	"Oh, in the name of creation—you’re half Imp, aren’t you?"
	Diana beamed and clapped her hands, "Oh, well done, Clara-poo!"
	The open-mouthed frown hung onto Clara’s face.  "Then, that means your mother...the headmistress—"
	"Fancied the Impish charm?" Diana asked with a twirl, cradling her breasts in her arms.  "There’s a reason, you know, why she’s always so preposterously malcontent.  Every night, she goes to bed alone, craving the grace of the sharp-toothed, loin-clothed man who at this moment likely sells high-rise toadstools to the gully frogs, and who squeezed me into her one chilly autumn evening.  And in the morning she wakes to the smell of rose-petal tea, reminding her that she has committed herself to the austerest of obligations among Fairies—undoing many of the problems people like my father only aggravate."
	Ignoring the odd specificities of Diana’s revelation, Clara placed her hands thoughtfully on her hips.  "So, you never knew your father?"
	"Nor did I particularly care to," Diana replied, tossing her hand.  "I suppose I inherited that non-sentimentality from him.  Besides, Imps are not a particularly diverse group of rascals.  The ‘racist’ stereotypes Fairies conjure up are all more or less accurate."
	Diana referred to the murmured collection of racial jabs the Fairies often made at Imps, which suggested, among other things, that every living Imp shared the same gene pool.  The Imps lived in the celestial arboreae, sprawling forests disembodied against the starry skies.  Their homes may have looked majestic enough, but their race was notorious for its so-called ‘savage’ behaviors.  They scurried among the roots of trees and crawled beneath the underbrush, robbing and tormenting the lost and the unwitting, luring young women into their dens with their strange, musky pheromones to be tied up and used as a communal cum dumpster.  An unsavory people, to say the least.
	Of course it made perfect sense for Diana to be half-Imp.  Clara found her as unsavory as Fairies or Imps both came.
	"How unusual that you’d study to become a Stewardess," Clara said smugly.  "You’d think it’d look like a nunnery to the Imps."
	Diana placed a finger on her lip.  "The Humans have a saying: be the change you want to see in the world."
	Clara raised an eyebrow.  "The ‘change?’"
	"Clara, Clara," Diana twittered, resting a hand on her bosom, "I don’t doubt you’ve realized the threat facing our world will not be resolved by catering to the momentary desires of individuals."
	Clara bit her tongue, only slightly intrigued to see where Diana was headed.
	"You see," Diana went on, taking an invisible seat in the air and crossing her legs at the knees once more, "we have been affecting this Netherrealm on such a minute scale, it’s no wonder that after so many millennia our world is still on the brink of ruin!  In the sincerest interest of restoring the fabled balance of good and evil, I offer an alternative solution."
	"And what would that solution be?" Clara asked, cocking her hip.
	Diana wore her sultry smile.  "Why, do to every soul on Earth what we’ve already done to the boy and his sitter."
	Clara snorted.  Diana’s eyes jumped.
	"Is that funny?" Diana asked.
	"It’s ludicrous," Clara shot, putting a foot forward.  "What you’re talking about, it’s—you’d be transforming the Human race into shambling sex zombies!"
	"The unitary aspiration of all Earth’s people," Diana affirmed, switching her crossed legs and flashing Clara a deliberate glimpse of her mound.  "The one thing we know every Human instinctively wishes for is to deliver their seed into a mate, thus ensuring the survival of their genes."
	"I wasn’t aware you were such an expert on Human instinct," Clara said, folding her arms.
	"It’s really not so complicated, precious," Diana said.  "It’s just the way their physiology functions.  Their bodies reward them for executing the steps necessary for fertilization, and, assuming both parties have performed adequately, you’re left with two smugly satisfied Human beings."
	"So," Clara began, "your reasoning is that if Humans shed all their desires other than the innate need to pass their seed to one another, and for the promise of sexual stimulation, their collective bliss will end the dimensional imbalance once and for all?"
	"Oh, bravo, Clara!  Yes!" Diana squealed, her tits bouncing as she jolted up.
	"I agree that maybe what we do isn’t efficient enough just yet to make a difference," Clara said coolly.  "However, I would not go so far as to condemn an evolved and intelligent race like the Humans’ to a meaningless existence of endless fucking."
	Diana went nose to nose with Clara, almost touching her blue lock.
	"And why not?" she asked.
	"Can’t you see that the Humans are much more than an animal race?" Clara asked, throwing out her arms.  "Every living person is defined by countless unique experiences, and out of those experience emerge their hopes and dreams.  Are you saying you’d rather dispose of all that than offer any sort of constructive solution?"
	"If it serves the needs of our people, your people," Diana said, drumming her finger against her cheek, "which it positively does."
	Clara shook her head, "I don’t accept your solution, and nor will any other individual at the academy.  Did you really hope you could become a stewardess only to spread your stilted philosophy amongst your peers?"
	"It has little to do with hope, Clara."  Diana spoke with lewd flicks of her tongue.  "It is a truth that all your people will soon come to accept and understand."
	Clara furrowed her brow.  "I can’t believe—"
	She was interrupted as the door handle turned once more.  Diana darted back to her place at the far end of the shower rod.
	"Shush now, Clara," she whispered.  "I believe the second act is about to begin!"Thursday, 8:01pm

	The kids were in bed, and Elizabeth was ready to get started on homework of her own.  Annelise had gotten ready without fuss, and so had Jack, to her genuine surprise.  In fact, Jack hadn’t even needed telling.  He’d simply slipped away while she wasn’t watching and seemed to have put himself to bed independently.  It was something of a relief, but still quite unusual.
	Elizabeth opened the bathroom door and flicked on the light switch.  Immediately, her nostrils were assailed by a strange and heavy musk hanging in the air, and the room hardly required any additional inspection for her to determine the odor’s source.  Something like a glaze or melted candle wax appeared to have exploded inside the relatively small space, plastering the tiled floor, the wallpaper, the bathtub, and the linens.  Bewildered, Elizabeth grumbled to herself as she imagined Jack, who she knew had been the last person to use this room, must have thrown a shampoo bottle—or three, given the sheer amount of the mystery coating—against the counter in an act of defiance, and then hurried off to bed in an attempt to extricate himself.  She’d have to set that kid right tomorrow.
	With a sigh, Elizabeth took care of business and returned briefly to the kitchen, fetching a rag and a bottle of 409 from the cabinet beneath the sink.  Returning to the bathroom and unlatching the window, she spritzed the rag with cleaner and got to scrubbing the floor on her hand and knees.
	Fortunately, whatever the filmy substance was, it came off the tile without much trouble, though it still exuded its thick aroma.  The scent was very curious, being something Elizabeth had never known before.  It was a dirty sort of smell, not quite like body odor, but like skin that hadn’t been washed for a day or two.  She made steady progress wiping the floor clean, though the glaze yet remained in great quantities all over the room.  As she gave the rag another spray, she dabbed her sweaty brow against her shoulder blade.  She was growing somewhat feverish, and perspired coldly.  Trying to shrug it off, she continued scrubbing.
	The musk began to fill Elizabeth’s head, leaving in her strange sensations of hunger and yearning, though for what exactly she could not have said.  She gave the floor one more long rub with the rag, then came to an upright rest on her knees, having grown quite light-headed.
	In that moment of repose, Elizabeth’s body spasmed rather suddenly, as though a jolt of electricity had coursed through her.  Goosebumps erupted across her entire skin, the charge culminating in her nipples, swelling and hardening against the threads of her v-neck tee.  Nearly gasping for air, Elizabeth stared full-eyed at the nubs tenting her shirt like a pair of bullets.  The rag and squirt-bottle had dropped out of her trembling grip.  Her cold, white fingers gingerly rose to her heaving chest, landing softly atop her granite-hard nips.  They tingled harshly at her touch,  spreading their warm electricity into her petite breasts, stoking the fire that had begun burning in her loins.
	A great pressure grew within her tight a-cups, as though all her blood were rushing to her chest, pushing her nipples to an even harder mast.  She found her slim thighs unconsciously rubbing against one another as the pressure mounted.  Beads of sweat surfaced and rolled down her crimson face, trapping her short, golden hair against her unblemished skin.  With a sharp wince, she felt her back fold and her breasts bounce just slightly.
	Then, it began.  An aura of pleasure melted out of the twin pressures in her chest, pulsing within her.  Her kneeling legs wedged apart, and her hands landed on the floor behind her, catching her as she reclined.  Her mouth agape and desperately sucking in oxygen, Elizabeth stared at her raging nipples as her chest rose and fell with each belabored breath.  Then, before her eyes, the twin peaks began slowly migrating diagonally outward beneath the fabric, and her chest seemed to fall less and less with each exhale.  A million unintelligible thoughts surged through Elizabeth’s head as she was confronted with the impossible sight in front of her.  Her breasts swelled perceptibly under her shirt, growing from her skinny body like rolls of rising dough.  She could feel their soft flesh slowly spilling down her torso as the seconds passed, and could see them pushing at the cotton of her t-shirt.  Her hard but tiny nipples grew in kind, now the size of peas.
	Elizabeth was not nearly collected enough to panic as her breasts achieved orange-size, retaining natural, perfectly symmetrical teardrop shapes.  She was instead preoccupied with the amplified tingling that radiated from within her expanding mammaries, doping her body with warm feelings of pleasure and arousal.  The tips of her growing nipples felt ablaze with comforting fire.  Between her parted legs, she could feel herself dilating and moistening.  She wasn’t making sense of any of it, but it didn’t seem to matter.  She lost herself in the pool of elicitations.
	Every second saw her chest gaining fleshy volume and her body buckling from the pangs of erotic stimulation.  Her boobs had passed the triple-D mark, and pancaked over her ribcage.  Her erect nipples were about the size of her fingertip, and sent waves of pleasure through her swelling chest as they rubbed against her clothing.  She now had a window into her growing situation via the neck of her shirt, which had been lifted enough by her tits to offer her a view of their progress.  Even though they hung a bit over her sides, they formed two healthy mounds on her front.  They were growing large enough now that her shirt had started wrapping around her back while they stretched out the front.  As her puppies finally made full contact with the fabric of the shirt, she felt every muscle in her body seize in the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced.  Her back arched dramatically, her fingers and toes curled as her hips bucked out of her control.  Still, she managed to stifle her moans.
	Momentarily gathering her wits as she came down from her sexual high, Elizabeth reached for the bottom of her shirt and quickly peeled it off her growing body.  She gawked at herself, at the enormous breasts that now flowed from her chest like giant mounds of jello.  They poured down her waist, and yet surprisingly had firmness enough not to really sag.  Her fat nipples twitched in the open air, still wracking her body with orgasmic pleasure.  These were the most perfect pair of tits Elizabeth had ever seen, and they belonged to her!
	At last, her enormous breasts appeared to have stopped swelling, ending at a size she couldn’t fathom—easily larger than her head, and almost certainly as big as a pair of large watermelons.  They kept their immaculate symmetry, and bore not a single stretch mark from their transgression.  Her nipples, swollen and prominent as they had been the entire time and now as large as the rubber stoppers one would attach to a baby’s bottle, continued to throb visibly, sending incredible shivers down her back.  Gently, she laid her fingertips against her lush, milky flesh, and ran them across their surface.  Her body twitched almost uncontrollably as she touched herself.  She reached her engorged nipples, caressing the rough, puffy areolae before giving her nubs a hard pinch.  Her loins burst into a second orgasm, twice as intense as the first.  She could feel her juices staining her panties, oozing through into the denim seat of her pants.  Her entire body flexed, and her udders shook, rippling softly and sensuously.
	Her heart began pounding as her climax thundered on.  The euphoria exploded into her thighs and buttocks, burning white-hot as she struggled to breathe.  Her bountiful tits lurched and clapped together as her vagina throbbed endlessly, its wetness starting to slather the insides of her legs.  Looking down, she realized an entirely new situation had arisen with her body.  Packed within her already skinny jeans, her thighs began to swell just as her breasts had.  Every pulse of Elizabeth’s head-to-toe orgasm forced her legs to contract, but each time they did, they would not appear to gain any slack.  Her hips and thighs filled out, thicker and thicker, until they rubbed into one another, triggering an additional orgasm on top of the one she was already experiencing.  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her butt was gaining volume as well, forcing her denims to cling to her every curve.  Hot tears streamed from her ruby eyes, as her senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of her cumming.  Her legs, as big around as hams, forced her pants to their limit, bursting apart the seams.  The expanding flesh overflowed from the rips for a few seconds longer, then came to a slow ebb, along with her monumental orgasm.
	Elizabeth realized she had been holding her breath for the past several seconds, and slowly let it out.  As she did, to her shock, the zipper of her jeans popped free with an audible ping, hitting the wall and landing on the floor.  Her fly promptly burst apart, and the seam running the underside of the jeans split completely with several snaps, actually tearing her pants in two.  Shaking with fear and residual pleasure, Elizabeth dejectedly pulled the denim sleeves from her absurdly curvaceous legs and tossed them into the corner.  Wobbling to her feet, she had to catch herself against the counter, not used yet to the weight distribution of her new body.  She turned to the full-length mirror, muffling her gasp as she did.  She stood now wearing only her overstretched panties, with a remarkable hourglass figure.  Her waist and stomach had stayed completely slim amid her changes, but the rest of her body was entirely unrecognizable.
	Her hips curved dramatically, just over two feet wide at their largest.  They tapered down into toned, meaty thighs, each nearly as thick as her torso.  Turning to the side, she examined her naked ass, which stuck out now like a large letter C.  As her eyes traveled to her panties, flossing between her smooth bubble butt, the sole remaining garment snapped, but remained wedged firmly in her ass.  Her hands blindly felt their way across her expansive lower body, exploring it with her fingers.  She brushed against her swollen, glistening mound and trembled.  With torn feelings of shame and longing, Elizabeth nervously put one wrist to her chin, nibbling down on her fingernails, and with her other hand slid a pair of fingers into her vagina.  Her hot insides throbbed against her fingertips as they flicked softly against her inner walls.  Her stomach pitted with each womanly pulse, slapping her melon breasts together.  As she quickened her strokes, the hand resting on her chin crept down the side of her enormous boob, finding its way around her pink nipple.  Both her spongy paps swelled in anticipation like two juicy strawberries.  Using the insides of her thumb and forefinger, she pinched the fat nub.
	She couldn’t quiet her moan this time as from her squeezed nipple suddenly sprayed several thick streams of what could only have been breast milk.  The incredible feeling of the creamy fluid bursting from her porous nipple sent her directly into the throes of a fierce third orgasm.  Around her slick fingers, her pelvic muscles clenched powerfully.  Her orgasms up to this sudden and dramatic turn in her life had never felt even remotely as amazing as they felt now.  Every nerve in her body had burst alight, screaming with pyrotechnic ecstasy, throwing shockwaves of pleasure to literally every point in her body.  The manner in which her voluptuous body shook could have been easily mistaken for a long series of deadly convulsions.  Her knees began to buckle, as she pinched harder against her nipple, forcing out greater quantities of her warm, sweet-smelling milk, which squirted against the mirror in powerful streams.  Spurts of clear liquid intermittently sprayed from her vagina as she mounted orgasm upon orgasm.  Instinctively, she pushed her massive ghetto ass against the door, flattening one fat cheek against the mirror and the other into the corner formed by the wall and counter, while the doorknob pressed against her tingling anus.  Gyrating up and down, she dragged her huge ass against the walls, and felt the doorknob’s cool, textured surface massage against her asshole.  With work, she backed herself further up against the knob until it barely parted her buzzing rectum.
	Realizing she could get no further with the doorknob, Elizabeth’s eyes darted around the room.  She spotted on the counter a pink hair brush with a fat, bulb-ended handle.  She knew it belonged to sweet little Annelise, and that what she wanted was utterly wrong, but her animal desires conquered her senses, and she grabbed the sparkly pink brush.  Lifting her tremendous ass from the walls, leaving behind two huge, sweaty smudges, Elizabeth brought the hairbrush behind her back, and with both hands, carefully inserted the round-headed handle into her ass.
	Immediately, her rectal walls tensed.  Taking deep breaths, she slowly worked the handle deeper inside.  The smooth plastic rubbed amazingly within her, all of its six inches plugging her tight.  Feeling her knees give way as the handle massaged her colon, Elizabeth collapsed to her elbow and knees, one hand still furiously twiddling her pulsing snatch.  Her milk-filled jugs swayed and slapped and jiggled, her distended nipples brushing wonderfully against the bath carpet, perspiring with beads of her pearly nectar, leaving large dark spots in the fabric.  Sweat had broken across her entire quaking body.  She craned her head, looking across her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror.  Her enormous, sculpted buttocks flexed with every orgasmic pulse, the head of the hairbrush bobbing up and down, the thick, hard handle massaging her rectum perfectly with every clench.  Letting her head drop down, her eyes became lost in the hypnotic rippling of her hanging udders.  Their soft, unblemished flesh moved with such entrancing fluidity as they swung back and forth, bounced up and down like overfilled water balloons, her swollen milk glands throbbing and overactive.  All she could think about was the fact that five minutes ago, her chest had been practically nonexistent, and had in those minutes after exploded to the size of torpedo heads.
	Elizabeth’s body miraculously continued to flood her with endorphins, as if congratulating her for her apparent newfound fertility.  She had expected her body would quickly grow numb to the spine-jerking orgasms that burst one after another within her loins, but each consecutive climax was as potent as the last, if not more so.  Her head was beginning to feel very light again, however, and using her last shred of good judgment, she laid her upper body on the ground, her boobs pillowing her torso while her juicy rear remained in the air, bouncing up and down almost of its own free will.  She took pained breaths, her mouth and tongue slack and dry, while tears and sweat poured down her face.
	Everything started to grow fuzzy, and even the dull throbs of her overstimulated womanhood seemed to dissolve into the background as her last shreds of consciousness slowly slipped away.Thursday, 8:17pm

	Jack laid in the darkness, his body stilled beneath his bedsheets.  He couldn’t sleep.  He had tried forcing his eyes closed, but his ten-year-old mind was ripping itself apart in confusion and fear.  What had happened to him in the bathroom was incredible beyond belief.  His body seemed to have just decided to undergo sudden, rapid change, and Jack could feel the results of that change beginning to change other aspects of his.  It was a troublesome development to cope with.  His mind was moving into territories now that still made little sense.  They felt like dark places, but they had an implacable allure.
	But, right now, Jack was filled with dread.  Whatever this was that was happening to him, it was not normal.  He perhaps did not understand the specific workings of the human body, but he was fairly certain people’s dicks didn’t grow twelve inches in a matter of minutes and then shoot white stuff all over their bathrooms.  That’s what had happened to him, though.  Jack wanted more than anything to tell himself that it wasn’t real, that it was a bad dream, but how could he possibly deny the slab of meat nestled uncomfortably between his legs as he laid there?
	And when he would remind himself that his parents were gone, all the way in another country, he would really feel the lump begin to rise in his throat.  His parents, in whom he trusted, weren’t here to help him, nor would they be for three more days.  There was only Annelise, who was useless, and Elizabeth, who had no business knowing about his problem.  Jack didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t know whether or not he could talk about this with his parents even after they returned home, or what fate he’d be resigned to as a freak of nature.  The suspense and uncertainty clawed at his soul, tormenting him.
	The strangest part of all of it was what it had done to his head in those minutes he’d been in the bathroom.  As he’d touched himself then, his mind had grown consumed by the pleasure, by the hunger, and the need to maintain that peak of bodily bliss.  As Jack had handled his penis, and worked it to that point wherein it erupted with that strange fluid, he’d truly believed that the incredible fire taking hold of his whole body was the single greatest thing he’d ever felt, or would ever feel.  He’d tried revisiting it in his mind, to try and assign words to the experience, but fear and shame prevented him from lingering.
	As sick as the thought made him, he couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t have minded reliving that feeling one more time.
	But, as Jack returned to that moment, the problem resting inside his legs stirred.  His heart accelerated, thumping against his ribs.  He tried thinking of anything besides that episode in the bathroom, but his penis wasn’t hearing it.  He could feel it swelling against his thighs, rubbing somewhat painfully as it lengthened.  It was maybe halfway to his knees when it started to push its way out from his feeble trap.  Jack tried to calm his breathing, but it was growing very shaky and despaired.  Craning his head, he saw the tip pushing up against the covers, a tent that rose as his pounding heart seemed to pump all its blood into his groin.  It climbed and climbed, moving like a particularly thick and lengthy second-hand on a clock, dragging against the blankets as it approached verticality.
	As Jack’s penis passed the ninety-degree mark, it flopped down onto his stomach with a smack, still a bit soft, but already past his belly button.  The warm, fleshy python inched its way up his trembling abdomen, the rim of its head rubbing wonderfully against his stomach.  Clenching his fists and digging his fingernails into his palms, Jack mentally chanted "go away, go away," to no avail.  Having defied Jack’s will, the beast finally hit its mark, its head nestled firmly against his sternum.  He could see it staring at him from beneath the sheets, all bloated and angry.  It looked as if he had a large baguette lying on top of him, based on its long contours.  Jack shut his eyes in short consideration, then reached for his lamp switch.
	The dim light came on, and Jack sat up and swiveled to his bedside, his stiff cock moving with him like an iron pole.  He hadn’t been wearing anything, since his new equipment couldn’t be comfortably packed into anything he owned.  Standing up, he quietly stepped over to his mirror, his fourteen-incher bobbing up and down with his walk.
	His stomach sunk as the whole picture came into view.  Jack’s enormous penis had no place being attached to his young, scrawny body.  It truly looked like a third leg, given its outrageous proportions.  His balls looked as big as lemons, and hung low in his dangling sack, lined with thin, dark vessels.  It was as if he’d been stuck with a set of elephant genitals, but they were definitely his, right down to his circumcision scar and the slightly discolored splotch near the base, both having been warped by his growth.
	While he was dejectedly fixated on his oversized junk, Jack suddenly keeled forward as a horrible ache panged from his balls.  The pain radiated intensely, as if someone had placed clamps on his hanging fruit or shot them with an airsoft gun.  By its own will, his cock flexed incredibly, growing so hard that it hurt.  Jack couldn’t hold back his crying anymore.  The tears poured from his eyes as he quietly sobbed.  He was so scared.  Was he going to die?  He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he was in hard agony.  
	Thinking through the throbbing pain, he made his decision: he’d have to tell Elizabeth.  She could at least call the doctor, and possibly his parents.  She was his only hope for reprieve now.
	Biting down, Jack lurched toward the door, still at steel mast, still nude.  It couldn’t be helped.  Elizabeth would just have to deal with it when he got to her.  His steps were staggered, his knees wobbled as he made it into the hallway.  He just didn’t need Annelise wandering out of her room to find him like this.  Silently make his way to the stairs, he set one hand on the wooden railing, and tried to lay the other soothingly against his shrieking testicles.  Bad idea.  He whipped his hand away as the sting spiked at his touch.  Gnashing his teeth harder, he climbed his way down the steps.  Hopefully, he thought, Elizabeth would still be in the TV room doing homework.
	As Jack reached the first floor landing, he spotted light coming from beyond the bathroom door.  His heart froze for a moment.  That meant Elizabeth had found his mess.  But, he had made up his mind, and he lumbered ahead.  The bathroom drew nearer, and he saw that the door was slightly ajar.  Listening, he could hear unusual noises emanating from within.  It almost sounded like someone continuously rubbing their hands with soap, accompanied by deep breathing.
	Standing at the threshold, Jack paused for a moment, facing his last moment of doubt.  The flaring throb from his bloated balls put him back on course, and he slowly pulled on the door.
	Jack froze as he witnessed the last thing he could possibly have expected.  Elizabeth, completely naked, was laying face-down against the floor, only she looked quite different from when he had last seen her.  Her butt was in the air, but it looked somehow much bigger than he’d thought it was.  His eyes flared as he noticed Annelise’s Barbie princess hairbrush had been stuck up her asshole.  Below that was the first real vagina Jack had ever seen.  It looked very strange to him, almost like an open clam.  Staring at it, he noticed it twitching very slightly.  Then, looking down, Jack spotted the coup de grace buried beneath Elizabeth’s torso.  Pressed against the floor like two enormous airbags were Elizabeth’s boobs...but they couldn’t really have been hers.  Jack knew Elizabeth had a flat chest, and these were massive beyond anything he’d ever seen or heard of!
	Yanked back to the present by the worsening pain in his groin, Jack inhaled loudly and wetly to gain Elizabeth’s attention.  The babysitter began to rouse very slowly, finding the ground with her hands and then pausing.  Suddenly, she shot a saucer-eyed backward glance at Jack, and scrambled like lightning, her curvaceous body jiggling madly as she rose to a tall kneel.  She scurried backward until she was pressed, arms-spread, against the wall, like a nude, huge-breasted robber in the spotlight.  She stared directly at Jack with indescribable fear frozen onto her face, breathing heavily.  Jack, bewildered and easily as frightened as his sitter was by her reaction, immediately felt his face crumple as he began to sob violently in front of her.
	Elizabeth’s petrified eyes softened, but only for as long as it took her to realize what was sticking out from Jack’s little-boy body.  Through his watered eyes, Jack saw her fixated on his mammoth, bright-red cock and his plump, bursting balls.  Her gaze seemed to trigger vengeful twinges within his large, hairless scrotum, and his tears poured out in salty torrents.  As his balls throbbed, a thick drop of his clear fluid beaded from his puffy urethra.
	Seeming to shake herself, Elizabeth found Jack’s eyes, and gave him what appeared to be a consoling look.
	"Jack, honey," she rasped, "what happened to you?"
	Jack tried to stabilize himself, but his eyes and nose kept streaming.  He tried to come up with the words, but he couldn’t quite put them together.
	"I..." he shuddered, "I...felt my...my...it started to hurt...and then it started growing, and...it started shooting all this stuff everywhere...I don’t know what’s wrong with me..."
	Elizabeth wobbled to her feet.  Jack noticed Annelise’s hairbrush still stuck firmly in her ass, but Elizabeth seemed not to notice.  She took a shaky step forward, her thick thighs balancing and flexing precariously on her clearly unstable knees.
	"It hurts really bad..." Jack sniveled, breaking eye contact.
	Elizabeth’s face, he saw at a glance, was genuinely sympathetic.  The bodacious babysitter took two more trembling steps forward, stopping inches from Jack’s swollen, cherry-red tip.  She lowered herself slowly to her hands and knees, still looking at Jack’s face.  Despite the horrible pain racking his loins, Jack’s gaze became lost in Elizabeth’s cavernous cleavage as it dipped down.
	"Where does it hurt?" she asked, the softness of her voice sending shivers up Jack’s spine.
	Jack motioned with his pointed finger to his fattened testicles.  Elizabeth inspected them for herself at a distance.
	"Does it hurt to touch them?"
	Jack nodded.  His dick throbbed on its own, earning a brief expression of alarm from Elizabeth.
	"What about this?" she asked, pointing at his meaty log.  "Does it hurt to touch this?"
	Jack blinked out his tears and shook his head.  It flexed again, the large vein running its overside twitching visibly.  Elizabeth gave him a comforting smile.
	"You’re going to be okay sweetie," she cooed, running her thumb over his tear-stricken cheeks.  "The problem is, you seem to be full of some very nasty pressure, and we’re going to have to find a way to let all of it out.  Do you understand?"
	Jack sniffled.  "I think so..."
	Elizabeth put her hands on her knees, her arms pressing her immense, doughy boobs together.  Jack’s penis flexed one more time, and the dollop of fluid that had amassed at the tip drooled down into Elizabeth’s cleavage.  The sitter gasped slightly with closed eyes, but quickly collected herself.  She dipped a dainty finger into the large glob that had landed between her tits, and then lifted it to Jack’s angry cockhead, rubbing it softly against the rough skin surface.  Jack gasped deeply, and more of his juice splashed onto Elizabeth’s ample chest.
	"Was that good?" she whispered.
	Jack could only nod, although that brief surge of pleasure elicited a sharp reproach from his aching jewels.  Elizabeth brought her hands beneath her breasts and hefted them up, as though they were an offering.  Her big nipples danced as the fleshy masses jiggled in her hands.
	"Jack," she said.  "I need you to trust me."
	Jack nodded once more.  Anything to end this pain.
	"The best way for me to let out your pressure is by sucking it out with my mouth.  Do you understand?"
	Jack could only nod.  He shivered with nameless guilt and pain.
	Elizabeth looked him directly in the eye.  "To make you comfortable while I suck it out, I’m going to massage...it between my breasts.  Is that okay?"
	He nodded.
	"Okay," she breathed, inching forward a bit.  "I’ll just use some of this liquid you’re letting out to get my breasts nice and slippery for you, then we’ll get started."
	Releasing a breast and letting it flop down, Elizabeth set her hand carefully on Jack’s tip.  His whole body was trembling, shaking violently, telling him this was wrong.  Elizabeth then crooked her index finger, and slipped it easily into Jack’s puckering urethra.  Jack winced, not in pain, but in cold shock at what Elizabeth had just done.  She worked her finger in and out a couple times, sending more incredible pleasure pulsing through his nerves.  She pulled out her coated finger and ran it slowly across her soft, milky tit.  Once she finished smearing on his juice, she wrapped her hand around the pink portion of his shaft just below the head, nowhere close to being able to make her fingers and thumb meet around its incredible girth.  Raising both her luscious breasts with her arm beneath them, she brought Jack’s tip against her supple flesh and gave his thick dick a thorough squeeze.  Copious amounts of his fluids gurgled out onto her tits and into her cleavage.  Elizabeth painted it onto her watermelon jugs using his cock as a brush, rubbing it everywhere, brushing his oozing urethra against both her pert nipples.  She released his weapon, sending it bouncing back toward him, dribbling the leftover fluid onto the floor.  With both hands, she rubbed his juices into her breasts as though it were oil, slathering it on until they glistened, his fluids making audible squishing noises as she applied them.
	"All right," she whispered, taking both her monster breasts in her hands again.  "Are you ready, sweetie?"
	Once more, he nodded, the horrible aches causing the blood vessels in his head to bulge.
	Elizabeth spread her tits apart, opening the fleshy valley between her mounds, and scooted forth until Jack’s dick was rested flatly against her sternum.  She then brought the incredible masses together, wrapping their supreme lushness around Jack’s burning cock.
	Jack shuddered as the warm, squishy skin enveloped his steel shaft, as her slick udders rubbed squeezed around it.  His apple-like cockhead protruded from her cleavage, twitching in anticipation.  Already, he could feel more juice being forced up and out of his dick, pooling in the crevasse between his meat and her collar.  Elizabeth wrapped her whole arms in front of her chest-pillows, hugging them firmly together around his cock.  She looked at him one more time.
	"Here we go," she almost mouthed.
	Elizabeth lowered her head with her mouth opened, and suddenly, her wet lips were wrapped around the tip of Jack’s penis.  Then, she began to suck, and every edge of Jack’s body felt as though it were bursting with starlight.  It was mind-shattering.  The suction of her mouth drew in his hot juices, while she bounced her tits up and down against his shaft using her arms, pumping his fluids to the surface.  Her tongue darted across the surface of his dick and flicked into his urethra.  Her giant boobs squeezed his snake incredibly, massaging it in all the right ways with their smooth squishiness.  Elizabeth made loud slurping noises and hushed mmmm sounds as she drank up his juice.  Jack’s rubber tight balls still throbbed harshly, but Elizabeth really seemed to be taking the edge off.
	Amazingly, Elizabeth got his entire cockhead into her mouth.  The hot wetness of her cheeks, the gentle scrape of her teeth, and the trailing of her tongue across its every inch seemed to be drawing out some sort of great force within Jack’s groin, possibly the cause of his ready-to-burst testicles.  He felt something thick slowly climbing his dick as Elizabeth slurped and bounced her jugs.  He realized it must have been that white juice he’d shot so much of earlier, and braced himself for the coming outpour.  His breathing became shaky and belabored.  Elizabeth seemed too caught up in her work to pay him any mind.
	It rose and rose, like bubbles in a shaken soda bottle.  It was coming, sending that telltale tickle into his urethra.  Then, he felt the boiling goo start to ooze out of his tip, thick and white like vanilla milkshake.  Elizabeth seemed to detect the change, because she unfastened her mouth and began catching the lava-like flow on her tongue.  Strange, Jack thought.  Last time it shot out like a cannon.
	As if on cue, Jack suddenly felt something even thicker and faster pump through him, rushing rapidly up his shaft.  His already giant dickhead swelled impossibly larger between his babysitter’s tits, flushing beet red.
	The dam burst.  A vertical stream of the white juice exploded from his cock, eliciting another, louder gasp from Elizabeth.  She kept her boobs tightly wrapped around his spewing monster, so tightly her nipples were touching.  The juice rocketed out without weakening.  It splashed loudly against the ceiling and poured onto both of them.  Jack wanted to scream, but he had no voice.  He felt as if he were going to leave his body, the pleasure was so nearly unbearable.  It went pfffffsshhhhhht as it geysered.  It wasn’t coming out in bursts like last time.  It was all one continuous gush of his milk.  Much of it, he saw, was caking Elizabeth, frosting her rolling tits like a cake.  It wasn’t going to stop, Jack thought.  His balls had been storing all of this, and it had been backing him up.  Literal gallons of his hot, thick slime shot not just in a neat, narrow beam, but in a wide, splattering torrent.  Elizabeth didn’t stop pumping him with her boobs.  They bounced and jiggled and smacked loudly and wetly.  She was catching and swallowing as much of the juice as she could in her wide open mouth, swallowing it down in huge gulps.  Globs of his volcanic juice ran down her face, neck, chest, and shoulders.  Jack’s dick swelled hard as a massive diamond as his body forced out his musky payload.  He didn’t understand how all of this could have been stored in his body alone.  He’d already ejaculated enough milk to fill the toilet twice to its rim, and based on the constant intensity of his pearly eruption, he breathlessly imagined he’d have well enough to fill the entire bathtub.
	Jack’s tremendous balls clenched and twinged, still incredibly sore, but simultaneously being slowly drained of their immense pressure, just as Elizabeth had promised.  After thirty seconds, his thick, soupy juices were still gushing with the amazing force and volume of an out-of-control firehose.  The ceiling, plastered with vast quantities of juice, continued to rain thick, gooey ropes onto both him and his sitter.  Great globs of his own hot liquid splattered against his upturned face and into his sweaty hair.  His throat, still congested from his earlier sobbing, was becoming coated in his thick emissions, which fell in large, salty drops into his gasping mouth.  His eyes were watering now more from the skull-wrenching euphoria exploding in and across his young, pre-teen body and the ultra-salty flavor of his own juice than from his earlier panic and shame.
	Elizabeth, unwrapping her arms and curtly tugging her breasts by her puffed out nipples, placed her wide-open mouth over Jack’s rocketing stream.  He could hear her gag immediately on his unending gout of milk as she tried desperately to take it all in.  Most of it dribbled from her lips onto her jostling chest, but Jack saw her throat still lumping with several large gulps of his batter.  Drawing in sharp, burning breaths, Jack’s entire being remained awash in the fiery corona of bodily delight.  His tensed body still squeezed out unbelievable volumes of juice, but he was finally beginning to feel it ease off.
	Jack looked down at his ballistic member, still obscured by Elizabeth’s billowing breasts as she continued to yank on her swollen pink nips.  Without warning, he realized her cum-covered tits were themselves squirting several long streams of milk all over his chest and abdomen.  Somehow, Elizabeth’s tits had not only grown to mythical proportions, but had grown full of milk, too.  It was soothingly warm as it trickled down his front.  Elizabeth’s eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth formed a wide O as it sucked in air and Jack’s fluids.  The large muscles in her thighs and vagina contracted violently, as Elizabeth’s own translucent fluid puddled out from between her legs, adding to the darkening stains on the bath carpet below.
	The flow of Jack’s juice finally began to drop noticeably in pressure.  The unbroken, pearly arc shrunk as the aches in his balls finally faded.  The last cups of his juice splashed heavily atop Elizabeth’s head and on her face, coating it thickly.  Even as his titanic cock ceased its projectile volley, quite a bit more trickled gently from the tip, running hotly down the underside of his tender, twitching shaft.
	Elizabeth, soaked in Jack’s juices, freed her nipples from her oppressive fingers, allowing her breasts to drop down.  Jack watched, still hypnotized as they slapped against her stomach and each other.  Milk still trickled from her nipples, leaving creamy, white streaks along the undersides of her cow-udders.  Feeling pins and needles in his lower legs and feet, Jack dropped to his knees, his still mostly-hard dick slipping between his babysitter’s swollen tits.
	Breathing deeply and smiling, Elizabeth reached blindly behind her back until her hand found its way around Annelise’s hairbrush.  With a bit of force, Jack saw her pull the handle straight out of her ass, forcing a gasp from her lungs as her anus momentarily gaped and made a rather loud sucking noise as it came out.  Immediately, another spurt of clear fluid from between Elizabeth’s thighs squirted through the air, spraying suddenly onto Jack’s face and into his mouth, flooding his tongue with the overpowering bittersweetness of his babysitter’s womanhood.
	Elizabeth’s eyes went wide as she gasped into her hand, clearly not having expected that last squirt of juice.
	"Oh my god, Jack," she breathed.  "I’m sorry."
	But beneath her hand, Jack could see her beginning to smile.  Her breasts started to shake against her torso as she started snickering into her palm.  Jack, foggy-minded and living in the glorious afterglow of his two-minute-long eruption, found himself infected with the babysitter’s hushed chuckling, and began quietly laughing himself.  The boy and the older girl sat in the standing pool of their own juices, shaking with stifled, uncontrollable laughter.  Elizabeth lowered her hand and rested it atop her billowing tit, smiling sweetly at Jack as her expression threatened to break under additional chortling.  While Jack giggled under his breath, she put her heels forward, and pulled her fat ass across the slick tile, slowly scooting and squeaking her way toward him until she had him walled in by her buxom legs.  She reached around the drained ten-year-old with trembling arms, and pulled both him and his quivering meat missile into her tight embrace.
	Elizabeth’s overflowing breasts poured over her arms and mashed against Jack’s lithe, young body, while his cock laid nestled between their two chests.  She rested a hand on the back of his head, gently running soothing fingers through his sticky hair as she brought his forehead to rest against her sweaty collar.  Jack’s flushed cheek rubbed against his spongy, swollen glans.  His lips rested tiredly against Elizabeth’s plush, milky love pillow.
	Feeling his babysitter’s hand travel down to his shoulder, Jack raised his head from her glistening body.  Elizabeth, he saw, stared swollen-eyed at his cockhead, still protruding from her compressed cleavage.  Locking eyes with Jack’s, she slowly brought her mouth to the rose-shade knob, and began softly, lovingly suckling on the tender skin.  Her tongue mopped at the fluid still coating his equipment, her lips intermittently planted tiny kisses around its bulbous surface.
	"Does that feel better?" she exhaled.
	Jack nodded slowly.  He could smell himself on her heated breath.
	Elizabeth pivoted on her remarkable buttocks, laying one knee against the floor and the other against Jack’s back as she brought his thick, spongy rod beneath her lush hangers.  She wrapped an arm around his young shoulder, and in her other hand lifted the tit closer to him, the flesh pouring between her fingers.  Working her hand around the fat jug, she positioned the nipple near the ten-year-old’s mouth.  Jack eyed the swollen pap hungrily.
	"Jack," she said.  "I think this will calm you down.  Please...suck on it."
	Peeling his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Jack obeyed.  He set his hands on either side of the bloated mound, feeling his fingers sink into the fatty tissue, and neatly fit his mouth over the button-like nub.  Jack sucked gingerly on the tasty flesh, feeling her nipple expand against his tongue with every inhale.  Elizabeth dipped her head back, sighing with satisfaction each time her nipple swelled within his mouth.
	"Don’t be afraid," she whispered.  "You can suck harder."
	Jack didn’t need prodding, and sucked mightily on the scrumptious nip.  A low moan escaped Elizabeth’s throat as Jack felt an intoxicating sweetness flow into his mouth.  Elizabeth’s milk escaped her nipple in generous amounts, pooling behind his lips.  As he relentlessly sucked on her tit, he drank down her cream, feeling it fill his stomach with deep comfort.  He was beginning to make loud noises with his mouth as his saliva coated her contracting areola.
	Drowsiness began to cloud Jack’s smoldering senses as he swallowed healthy gulps of Elizabeth’s nectar.  Before long, his hands started to slip from her luscious milk-sac, and his suckling turned into gentle puckering.  Elizabeth’s nipple slipped from his mouth, and her breasts slapped down against her stomach.  That fuzzy image of his babysitter’s weighty, engorged boob clung to his fading mind.  Blackness crept into the edges of his vision, and setting his head against Elizabeth’s plush chest, Jack finally drifted to sleep.The New Age

	Clara held a worried hand to her face while Diana, who sat horseback style and shivering on the shower rod, bit her lip and cupped her fingers round the underside of her left breast.  The two Humans, the boy and his babysitter, sat huddled on the floor, clutching to one another's naked, engorged bodies.  Following their spectacle of projectile fluids, Clara was at least glad she wouldn't be the one cleaning up the deluged room.
	"If I may be allowed to say so," Diana murmured, "I have truly outdone myself this time."
	Clara's knuckles thumped against her forehead.  "At the very least I'd say you've dared to do what no right-minded Fairy would have the nerve to do."
 	Diana wrapped her hands around the metal rod, sticking her tattooed chest forward and pressing her muscular pelvis into the steam-coated metal.  "Well, the left-minded are the more creative, aren't they?"
	Grimacing, Clara spun her winged back to Diana, but found her glance clinging to the sight of the bodacious, embracing couple below.
	"May I ask you something?" Clara inquired.
	She could feel Diana's Impish grin raising the hairs on her nape.
	"Whatever about?" The sickly-sweet woman responded.
	Clara turned, prying her eyes.  "You told me all about your plan, to make Humankind into a single-minded, mating-conscious group."
	"Indeed, I did," Diana nodded.
	"Then," Clara continued, "how else would you have begun your work?"
	Diana cocked her head, "I beg your—"
	"This was the perfect opportunity for you to test your theory," Clara elaborated.  "You just happened to receive an assignment from the academy whose circumstances were ideal for you to demonstrate how that 'indulged' Human might behave in practice.  But what if you had been assigned to do something else, say...bring home a family member from military service, or gotten a struggling person a new job?"
	Diana's plain expression curled into a foreboding smirk.
	Clara went cold.  "But it's not a coincidence you received this assignment, is it?"
	Rolling her hard stomach, Diana lifted her entire weight from the shower rod by her arms alone, fanning her robust legs before deftly bringing her toes around the pole.  As she squatted into place, she placed a thoughtful hand around her somewhat masculine jaw.
	"That is an interesting question, dear," she said, stroking her chin and turning her eyes once more unto the nude forms on the ground.  "You are correct, of course; had it not been for the nature of this mission, it would have been rather difficult to justify my using sexual magic."
	Clara's folded arms fell slowly to her sides.  Her iridescent wings beat anxiously.  The deliberation behind Diana's voice was rather unnerving.
	Clara chose to be direct.  "What aren't you telling me?"
	Rising, Diana cat-walked toward her, stepping round the shower rod's edge until her still-rigid body was roughly parallel to the bathtub beneath them.  The pink-haired vixen shot Clara an electrifying look, fierce-eyed and showing her teeth through the narrow V of her smile.
	"Follow me," she said with startling command.  "You'll be told everything."
	Not wasting a beat, Diana fanned her wings and thrust herself afly.  A rosy blur, she darted into the nearby window pane with such force that it screeched open, letting in the rolling nighttime breeze.
	Flustered and nearing her wits' end, Clara took two steps for momentum and soared after the Imp-Fairy, following her sparkling-pink slipstream into the darkened outdoors and leaving Diana's spellbound victims behind.  Her wings vibrated feverishly, straining to close the gap between her and Diana.  The Prince family's well-kept lawn and white picket fence blew beneath her, as did their rear neighbors'.  A short ways ahead of another row of Human dwellings, Clara could make out a grassy area that extended for a number of meters before turning into a tall woodland.  No doubt Diana was leading her into the trees, but for what reason she couldn't have guessed.  Clearing the final street, she came over the untamed grass.  Ahead, she noticed a long dip forming in the grass, left behind in Diana's wake.  Sticking to that trail, Clara before long was beneath the black canopy.
	Diana's trail spiked upward, coiling around a nearby tree trunk as she rose.  Clara ascended with less flourish, slowing as she rose to the shadowy branches.  Coming to a tired stop on one of the tree's knobby arms, Clara rested her back against the bark and tried catching her breath.  If Diana wanted to show her something, she'd just have to come to her instead.
	Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Diana dropped from above, bringing with her a gentle sprinkling of pine needles.  The shapely woman stood firmly to her fullest height, silhouetting her body against the beaming moon.
	"Trouble keeping up?" She teased.
	Stabilizing her lungs, Clara lifted herself from against the trunk.  "I'm just fine, thank you.  Would you mind telling me what we're doing here?"
	At Clara's cue, a blinding corona flashed from behind Diana, who pivoted around to face the anomaly.  A cool gust whirled past the Fairy women, carrying luminous particles in its airstream as the magnificent light coalesced and faded.  Once more against the moonlight, a clothed, Fairy-winged figure approached.  Diana met their visitor with a tough, upward and a hand on her cocked hip.  Something about the mystery figure's slender, shape struck familiar with Clara, whose pulse climbed anxiously.
	"Welcome to the Netherrealm," Diana greeted the figure.  "Things have gone better than we could have hoped for."
	Standing an arm's breadth from Diana, the figure seemed to clasp its hands at its waist.
	"Excellent," the figure spoke with a severe, womanly voice.  "We are then ready to enact our initial phase."
	Clara's blood froze as she placed the voice she'd heard.  The figure reached and drew back a hood, revealing a jagged, yet prim, haircut and a glinting pair of half-moon spectacles.
	"I readily await your command," Diana said, bowing gracefully, "Headmistress."
	Headmistress Athenon extended a spindly hand, conjuring a small cloud of the same glowing particles she had scattered upon her entrance.  The cloud's yellowish glow illuminated her finely-aged features and sterling hair.  Athenon took obvious care of her appearance, having pristine skin and few wrinkles despite her years, but she wore these with a stern, somewhat forlorn expression unbroken by laughter or outrage.  Indeed, she was a serene and often objective individual, the perfect person to administrate the FSA.
	To think that the Headmistress was backing Diana's scheme...
	"We will want to observe the targets for the next few days," Athenon said as Diana returned to stature, "to ensure the mental effects last following their vacation period."
	Diana shifted hips, "Hmm, well, there has been a slight alteration in our plans."
	Clara saw the Headmistress's lips curl.
	"What do you mean?" Athenon asked.  Such a cold, threatening voice as hers would have floored Clara, but Diana was unfazed.
	"She means," Clara cut in, "that she didn't cast the spell on the original targets.  She used it on their son and his caretaker."
	Athenon looked to Clara.  Clara swallowed.
	"Claribel Thraughte," the Headmistress acknowledged.  "I regret that you were made a party to this without consent. Nevertheless, you have fulfilled your role satisfactorily."
	Clara scowled, "My role, Headmistress?"
	Athenon looked to Diana, "Does this mean the boy coped with the changes?"
	Clara could see the smirk forming on Diana's face.  "With aplomb."
	The Headmistress's cutting glare thrust into Clara once more.  "How much does she know?"
	"Only the gist," Diana answered, glaring across her shoulder at Clara.
	Athenon stalked gracefully in Clara's direction.  With a smart tug of her academy gown's sleeve, she slipped one shoulder out of the garment, and then the other, letting the top hang suspended by her belt sash.  Even Athenon's bare body remained unravaged by age.  Her stomach was slim and light like Diana's, and although the Headmistress's breasts were considerably smaller than her daughter's, they were supple and perky in their own right.  Spiraling yellow fractals crept up her sides and traced the undersides of her healthy chest.
	The Headmistress slowed, standing formidably before Clara, wearing her robe like a battle skirt.  Despite the shattering revelation that she supported the notion of turning the Human race into a population of sex-minded animals, Clara still felt humbled in her presence.
	"Our realm is in grave danger, Miss Thraughte," she said bluntly.  "Never before has the imbalance of energies grown this severe.  If we continue along this same path, helping such a small fraction of this race, there can be no doubt that the Feymarch will shatter, and the Human race will afterward annihilate itself."
	The Headmistress turned again to Diana, whose prodigious chest stuck out proudly, her hands firmly on her wide hips.  Clara could see Athenon's wings tucked against her remarkably toned back, lacking the colorful luster of hers and Diana's.
	"What did you observe in the boy and the other?" Athenon asked.
	"They were positively crawling over each other," Diana said with a giggle.  "I would say their...happiness was without compare."
	Athenon nodded, and pivoted her nude upper body toward Clara.  
	"If we carry out our plan," she said, her every syllable brimming with power, "if we can create an existence in which Humankind lives in a perpetual state of indulgence, then we will at last be able to curb the destructive force radiating from this realm."
	Clara was shaking her head.  "I told Diana, and I'll tell you: the Human race—"
	"The Human race," Diana sliced, sauntering forward, "does not like to be cock-blocked, Clara-sweetheart."
	Clara's body contracted icily as the dark-skinned woman pressed her body up against hers, sneaking a hand around her back and resting it on her ass.  Diana's large breasts squeezed warmly against her own, petite chest.  Smiling mischievously, the pink Fairy ran her other hand over Clara's reddened cheek.
	"Humans crave intimacy," Diana whispered softly into Clara's ear as she shivered in her embrace.  "Their minds are gnawed from within by their perverse nature—the beast within each of them.  They already live an unnatural existence my dear."
	Clara gasped as Diana pressed a buxom thigh against her womanhood.  Sweat beaded across her body like a cold dew.  The tip of Diana's nose brushed against hers as the domineering Fairy licked her lips.  Clara wanted to escape, but Diana seemed to be using some force that kept her at bay.
	That's what she kept telling herself as she felt herself beginning to moisten at the thighs.
	"Even you crave it, Clara," Diana whispered, her thick, flowery breath subduing Clara's mind.  "Don't you feel it?  As I press my perfect body against yours?  I feel the way your heart's beating...feel the heat between your legs."
	Their lips now nearly touched.  Clara instinct vaguely told her to pull away, but she could not.  The other woman's full lips briefly brushed against hers.
	"I can feel the tension on your lips..."
	Diana went in for the kill.  Giving Clara's ass a hard squeeze, she pressed her mouth against the blue-haired girl's, sliding her tongue into her throat.  Still, Clara couldn't peel herself from Diana's hold, and unconsciously began grinding her pelvis against her thick leg.  Diana put her hand on the back of Clara's head, pulling her in deeper.  They kissed without pause, Clara's tongue even slipping into Diana's mouth for a moment.  
	"Diana."
	With a dramatic mwah, Diana pried her lips from Clara's.  Clara wobbled in place, still awash from Diana's charge, still feeling the tingle in her loins.  She stared with glazed eyes at Diana's away-facing body, watching her big, muscular buttocks roll profoundly against one another as she walked.  It took actual willpower to keep her hand from wandering to her crotch.
	What had Diana done to her?
	"And if it can control you, a Fairy," Diana said, whipping around as she neared the end of the branch, "can you even imagine what it's like for the Humans?"
	Athenon stepped in front of her daughter, eyeing Clara.  "We give Humans what they lust for.  And when we satisfy their lust, our world is saved."
	Feeling her senses flooding back, Clara straightened her spine, and reciprocated the Headmistress's hawk-like gaze.
	"If any Fairy of repute caught wind of this plan, they'd condemn you," Clara rasped.
	"We understand," Athenon answered.  "Why do you think I chose you to accompany Diana on this assignment?"
	Clara could only feel her heart pound as the women in front of her wore her down with their razor eyes.
	"Your record at the Academy is unrivaled, Miss Thraughte," Athenon went on.  "You embody the ruling consciousness of our people by your mastery of its principles.  To gauge how our leaders and administrators might respond to our actions, we selected you to observe as Diana cast the first die."
	Clara cocked a confused eyebrow, "What does it mean to you, now that you're aware of my disapproval?"
	Athenon gave Diana a brief glance before continuing.  "It means we will very likely have to back our intentions with force."
	Hearing the Headmistress's words echo, Clara steadied herself.  They were ready to go to war for this.  It couldn't go on.  It would devastate two races if it did.
	"You can't," Clara found herself murmuring.
	"We must," Athenon reasserted.
	"If you're done with me," Clara continued, "I'll be heading to the Feymarch now."
	"That will be impossible," Athenon cut her short.  "Our people will learn of this in time, but it will not be from you."
	The headmistress held a hand toward the heavens, whispering to herself rapid incantations.  Out of her extended arm coursed a sudden wave of light, which burst with a loud clap above their heads.
	Flickering out of nothingness, a pair of bat-winged creatures were suddenly beating the air around her.  Guarding herself against the gusts blowing at her from either side, she tried for a better look at one of them.
	She saw a woman with golden-olive skin and long, raven hair, styled geometrically.  Her body, like Diana's, was strong and curvy, encased in bits of sparkling golden armor that appeared to be more ornate than protective.  From what looked like a second set of shoulders atop her normal pair extended her black, leathery wings, flapping powerfully against Clara, each with a clawed hand near the end.
	But what drew Clara's gawking eyes laid below her pelvis, between her legs.  Dangling almost to her knees was a thick, dark penis, bouncing heavily against her powerful thighs as she beat her wings.  Clara spun her head to the other woman, and found that she too sported an impressive package, swinging with her wing movements.
	Faeons.  A race from the Feymarch known for its brutal culture and for its being comprised entirely of females bearing traditionally male genitalia.  They were legendary foes of the Fairies, having made their last known contact well over ten thousand years ago.
	"At ease," Athenon ordered.
	The hard-bodied women dropped to their feet, their massive wings cloaking their figures.   Clara felt her heart rising into her throat.  Surely, Athenon wasn't about to leave her at the mercy of these Faeon guardswomen...
	The Headmistress advanced a step, "This is for the greater good of our people, Clara.  We can save our world, at the expense only of Humankind's warlike predilection.  It would not be logical to proceed any other way."
	Clara put her own foot forward.  "For thousands of years we've respected the Human will to enact change and progress.  It's their right by nature, Headmistress, and you'd be snatching it away from them!"

	"Hold her," Athenon barked.  The Faeon women closed around her, unfurling their wings and seizing Clara by the arms and forcing her knees to the rough wood below.
	The Headmistress beckoned for Diana, who stepped forward, swinging her hips as she did.
	"Diana Athenon," her voice thundered.
	Diana took a respectful kneel.
	Athenon rested a hand on the back of her daughter's bowed head.  "In the interest of advancing our world order, I hereby confer upon you the title Supreme Commander of our Faeon army, with all the rights and privileges thereto."
	Clara was aghast.  Never mind the fact that Diana of all people was now a military commander; Headmistress Athenon had already allied an unclear number of Faeons to her cause.  If they executed their plan while the Ruling Council was unawares, they'd be able to steal control of the situation and keep it.
	"As of now," Athenon resumed, the arm attached to Diana's head now brilliantly aglow, "on this day of the eleven-thousandth, six-hundred-sixty-third year in our Age of Interdiction, upon granting you this office of Supreme Commander, you, Commander Diana Athenon, shall receive the appearance and general characteristics of your Faeon subordinates, so that you may better facilitate our military force."
	Diana's eyes drifted shut.  "I'm ready."
	Athenon's palm released a warm burst of light, which slowly enveloped her daughter's knelt form.  The headmistress tossed her head back, eyes closed as the spell took its toll on her stamina.  A sharp whine resonated from the swell of light as it pulsed fiercely around Diana.
	The intensity of the spell subsided as the noise quieted to a falling hum.  Clara could see the glittering contours of Diana's body, still kneeling before her mother.
	With a great boom, an immense pair of black wings burst from Diana's shoulders, spreading wide, blotting the moonlight.  Clara observed with frightened eyes, feeling her knees  being rubbed raw against the rough branch as the musclebound Faeon women held her in place.  As Diana rose from her kneel, her new set of leathery wings curtained her body.  She turned to Clara, a harsh, blue glow smoldering in her eyes, azure mist simmering from her parted lips as she beheld her second, clawed set of hands.  Her crackling eyes met Clara's.
 	"Oh, Clara," her breath rattled.  "Clara, I feel it.  I feel...reborn."
	Diana's wings unfurled, uncovering her bare body.  Glittering circlets matching the embroidery on the Faeon women's armor shimmered onto her arms, sides, and legs.  
	And, lancing from her drum-tight pelvis, jutting for the sky like a pumped fist and forearm, Diana's beastly new Faeon cock flexed with its own life, defying the chilly night air.  Staring at the ungodly appendage was like staring down the barrel of an artillery cannon.  Clara, though she struggled, couldn't avert her eyes from the woman's tensed knob.
	Athenon slid her arms into her robe's dangling sleeves, tossing the garment up over her shoulders.  The silk-clad elder woman stepped austerely toward the waxing moon, away from her powerful-looking entourage.
	"I will take my leave," the Headmistress declared, her voice echoing into the open air.  "I leave this situation to you, Commander.  Take whatever steps necessary to keep her silent."

	Diana took a quarter turn, her meaty pole swinging heavily and keeping its hard, upward angle against the moon's milky glow.  
	"As you wish," she said with a beat of her bat wings, "Mistress."
	With barely a flicker, Athenon vanished.  Diana spun on her heels, her clawed set of hands wrapping round her shoulders and her wings fanning widely, creating for herself a revealing mantle.  The Pink-haired Imp-Fairy-turned-Faeon slinked up to Clara, still restrained by the two stalwart women.  On Diana's forehead materialized a sterling crest, bearing the Faeon medallion Clara had so often seen in the pages of ancient Fairy texts.  Each heavy step made the adorned woman's massive cock bob up and down hypnotically between her packed thighs.  As she drew nearer, Clara's nostrils were assaulted by the deep musk she now carried about her, one she hadn't possessed earlier.
	When Diana came to a stop, wide-stanced with her hands on her flaring hips, the thick underside of her rigid member hung uncomfortable centimeters from Clara's face, exuding the overpowering aroma she'd moments earlier detected.  Clara was fixated on the looming penis, her eyes traveling its length with cold apprehension from its base and Diana's low-hanging balls, to its swollen, chestnut-colored head.  Diana towered over her like an Amazonian giantess, looking nothing at all like the brainless bimbo Clara had taken her for only hours earlier.
	Turning her hips slightly away from Clara's face, Diana placed a gentle hand atop her blue head.  Clara shifted her shoulders, but was kept in the Faeons' hold.  Gazing down her nose at the restrained her restrained quarry, Diana grew a sinister grin.
	"Clara-dear," she breathed.
	Clara found herself on the verge of hyperventilating as she stated helplessly up at her captor.  "D...Di..."
	The hand on Clara's head grew heavy.  She could see sharp rows of teeth behind Diana's cooing lips.
	The curvaceous, over-endowed commander took tufts of Clara's hair in her curled knuckles, and pressed the bottom of her palm firmly against her scalp.  A dry whine slipped from Clara's throat.
	Diana wrapped her burly hand round the turgid base of her thigh-long erection.
	"Drink up."
	Before Clara could close her mouth, Diana shoved her tremendous organ into her throat, simultaneously forcing her head further down its fat length with her hand.  The fleshy warhead wrenched her jaws wide apart, choking her with its indigestible mass.  Diana kept forcing more of her engorged phallus into Clara's gasping esophagus, closing off her airway.  Tears and mucous ran from her face as Diana's beast fucked her mouth.  Her sobs were unheard, blocked by her fist-like glans, vacuum-sealed within Clara's windpipe.  Searching for any amount of oxygen, Clara's lips rubbed against Diana's stone-solid shaft.
	"Oh, my sweet, sweet baby," Diana gasped as she began gyrating her gigantic boner in and out of Clara's helpless throat.  "Your mouth is incredible!"
	Diana's suffocating meat chafed against the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat, coated in her thick saliva.  The great-bodied Faeon now had both hands behind Clara's ears and around her head, pulling her again and again as she slammed her juggernaut against her spinal column.  Clara's lungs were nearly given out.  What little remained of her energy was spent gagging on the salty hammer pounding again and again into her mouth.
	Yet somehow, a strange calm was taking hold of Clara's consciousness.  Perhaps it was from a lack of oxygen to her brain, but it seemed to her like an enveloping sensation of content and satisfaction.  Diana's musk slithered into her nostrils, her slippery cock slathered her throat and tongue with its thick salt.  Clara could feel her frantic senses being pacified by Diana's potent sexual aura.  Her mound, she vaguely realized, had grown rather wet and quivering.  She closed her streaming eyes, giving herself over to Diana's lustful manipulations.
	Diana's cock slurped loudly in and out of Clara's gob, flushed a deep crimson.  Low moans drifted from Diana's throat as her pace quickened.  The bucking woman took more of the girl's hair between her whitened fingers, giving her a final, particularly impactful set of thrusts before Clara could feel the thick glans flex against the surface of her tongue.  
	"It's coming!" Diana shuddered.  With a jolt of her entire, mega-voluptuous body, Diana's first round of boiling cum squirted into Clara's throat with such force, it actually pushed the pulsing monster from her mouth with a rather loud pop.  The limb-like cock swung upward against Diana's rippling stomach as it sprayed its second awesome stream.  A good deal of the airborne semen landed on Diana's shaking breasts, while the rest splattered onto Clara's streaming, gasping face.  Diana's seed was harsh against Clara's tastebuds, like a spoonful of salt.  She more enjoyed the feeling of it raining onto her cheeks and body, dripping down her skin like hot oil.
	But the sensible side of Clara's mind was finally freeing itself.  It urged her to snap out of this reverie, to stop enjoying this humiliation.  The pearly milk hit her face in ebbing bursts, trickling from her jawline onto her heaving collar.  Through her clouded awareness, she realized both the Faeons' sturdy members had at some point risen to press against either of the lymphatic nodes in her neck, rubbing their gluey pre-ejaculate into the small of her throat and jaw.  Still, the black-haired warrior women made no sound.
	As Diana's orgasm subsided, and only a bit of residual juice oozed from her quivering tip, the woman put a hard palm against Clara's forehead.  Forcing Clara's sweat and cum-drenched face upward, Diana held her throbbing meat against the girl's chilly nose, dragging it heavily down across her lips and chin, leaving behind a trail of her goo.  
	Giving Clara's head a curt shove, Diana withdrew her hand and turned viciously on her heel.  Clara's head dropped, supported only by the Faeon organs nuzzled beneath her chin.  She coughed as her throat burned with Diana's drying seed, and broke down once more into voiceless sobs.  She didn't see as Diana extended her immense wings, as she stood at the branch's precipice over the rippling fields.
	"That, Clara," the crescent-haired Faeon proclaimed, "was for calling me a cunt."
	Clara lifted her chin, staring after Diana with gritted teeth.  Her hyperventilated breaths thundered within her own ears.  Her throat and stomach pitted with each draw of burning air.
	Diana shot her one final, smirking glance from over her shoulder.  "You just wait to see what you'll get for threatening our new order."
	Feeling her heart freeze beneath her bruised-feeling ribs, Clara could only watch as Diana opened a spiraling portal with a wave of her hand.  She could only watch as Diana's bat-wings thrust her into the air, and glided her into the dimensional gateway.  She could only keep her worn body limp and heavy as the Faeon attendants hoisted her by the arms and shoulders and themselves took wing for the portal.
	Dangling within their iron grips, Clara felt only the stinging night air beat against her face as the crossed the simmering threshold.Thursday, 8:37pm

	Elizabeth's heart nearly leapt from her expansive chest as, without warning, the bathroom window burst open with a hard crack.  Her arms seized around Jack's sleeping body, his head still nestled deep within her abyssal cleavage.  The in-rolling breeze from outside brushed against her bare, glistening back, speckling her body with goosebumps, firming her sore nipples.  She stared at the wrenched window, a million unlikely explanations flipping through her head.
	The babysitter's hands left the boy's limp body, letting him slide down her slim stomach into the space between her meaty thighs.  Jack's sleepy lips mushed against his huge, mushroom-head glans as he curled over his elephantine dick.
	This kid was incredible, Elizabeth thought to herself, shivering as she eyed his bazooka-sized cock twitch ever so slightly.  At ten years old, he was more than likely better-endowed than any grown man on Earth, and could cum like a damn firehose.  Drops of his spent semen still occasionally fell from the ceiling, punctuating the silence with short plinks.
	Blinking back to consciousness, Elizabeth peeled her sticky body from Jack’s, and lurched to her feet.  Sore spasms shot down her thighs and through her pelvis.  Her body positively ached from her sense-stealing orgasm.  She slammed a hand against the wall to catch herself, and lumbered tiredly to the pried window.
	Letting her eyes focus for a moment, Elizabeth cautiously inspected the pane.  The white paint was a little scraped where the window frame would have sat, but not enough to raise her alarm.  Touching along the upper frame with her fingertips, she felt that the latch appeared to be retracted.  She supposed the window could have simply fallen open on its own or because of a well-aimed downdraft...
	But it had opened so loudly.
	Elizabeth climbed to her toes and peered through the tilted glass into the backyard, shuddering as her overripe melons mashed against the bathroom wall.  Watching and listening for a few tense moments, she was quick, and possibly eager, to decide that there was nothing outside but the crickets and a dog, barking off in the distance.  Reasonably satisfied nothing was awry, she pulled the window shut and turned its lock.
	Dropping her heels and unsticking her giant boobs from the wall, she turned to again examine the room, still filled with doubt that any of this was actually happening.  Maybe she'd inhaled too much 409 while she was scrubbing, and was having a chemical trip.  There was no real way, she thought, that she could have just grown a giant ass and tits, or that Jack could have grown a dick bigger than her forearm and blown more semen than his little body could possibly have contained.
	But there was something so tangible, so perceptible about all of this, as if it had to be real.  Her state of mind was bleary enough for her to imagine she was dreaming, but she was retaining enough coherence regarding the situation and her actions that she couldn't quite convince herself it wasn't real.
	Besides, dreaming or not, she'd felt those unworldly orgasms, and those had been real.
	Elizabeth could feel the anxious sweat running down her back and nearly half-piping off her outstanding ass.  The cool, lingering air caressed her skin and kept her nipples hard and erect.  Another shiver crossed her spine, rattling her body.  Her tits wobbled, and out of her nipples came a short but flying squirt of warm milk.
	Elizabeth bit a nail to stifle herself.  The feeling of her own cream being forced from her distended paps, squeezed from the aching glands bunched like grapes behind and around her areolae, was an extraordinary relief.  Her loins tingled and burned each time it sprayed from her overfilled udders like twin ejaculations.  Her hands flew to the V of her pelvis, fingers slipping into her moist slit as she dropped to her knees.
	Elizabeth’s moans resonated past her curled lips.  Pressing her boobs between her arms, she circled her middle finger around her swollen clit.  Her body spasmed as milk poured from her fat nips.  Her feet and toes curled, heels spurring into her enormous buttocks.  Pushing down on her slippery clit, Elizabeth sent herself hurtling into another explosive climax.  Her muscles seized, and the thin streams of milk grew into thick jets, splashing onto the tile and carpet and onto Jack’s naked, snoozing form.  Elizabeth could feel her juices flowing onto her hands, drizzling loudly onto the floor.  She saw her blimp-like tits moving, jiggling around as though they had a life of their own, clapping together, wildly spraying her milk in all directions.  Once more, her consciousness was enveloped in the warm haze of her body-wide orgasm, and faded to near blankness as the gushing bliss hit its apex.
	Another orgasm down, Elizabeth drifted back to her senses.  Milk dripped from beneath her heaving chest, blotting the translucent puddle that had formed beneath her crotch.  This wasn’t her body, she thought.  Her body wasn’t this big or this sensitive.
	But she knew it was.  As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, the change was real, and would be a part of her life for the foreseeable future.
	Oh, God, she thought.  She had to live real life like this.  How would she possibly be able to function?  After this babysitting job was over, her life in hell would begin.  She had friends and conservative family members.  She was a good girl, at least to most everyone she knew.  There would be no way of hiding this absurdly overblown hourglass body from anyone.  None of the clothes she owned would even fit her now!
	And the horniness!  Jesus, the horniness, she thought!  She had one more year of high school—prestigious, private high school, left to complete.  To have herself trapped in a well-monitored building for nearly eight hours a day, four days a week was going to be disastrous!  In the past half hour, the only thing she’d been able to keep in her pants were her hands!  The horrifying image flashed before her: stuck in the middle of class, cumming and lactating like a busted fire hydrant in front of everyone she knew.
	Her nipples hardened at the thought.  This new body was betraying her.
	Summoning her rationality, Elizabeth decided she would have to deal with the consequences of her apparent second puberty as they presented themselves.  Right now, she had to get Jack, who would be facing problems of his own, back to bed.
	The buxom teenager stepped up to the sleeping boy, who clung to his ballistic-missile-cock as though it were a body pillow.  Sliding one arm behind his knees and the other around his shoulders, Elizabeth lifted the boy with surprising ease.  Apparently her legs hadn’t been the only things to gain a bit of muscle.
	As she worked Jack into an upright position against her chest, his dick immediately slipped into her cavernous cleavage.  Once again, his bulbous cockhead emerged from between her fleshy mountains, staring right back at her.  Elizabeth got Jack’s legs to straddle her waist, finding it rather easy to keep him seated atop her remarkably wide hips.  The boy’s testicles hung against her stomach like kiwis in a bag, drumming slightly against her soft abs as she hefted him.  Getting Jack in a comfortable enough hold, she began her trek.
	Elizabeth stepped heavily, switching off the bathroom light and closing the door with just her elbow.  She could clean the bathroom tomorrow while Annelise was at school.  As for Jack and his school, perhaps it would be best if he stayed home.  He’d probably be asleep for most of the day anyway, what with his earlier dramatic outpour.
	Keeping her feet quiet, Elizabeth moved into the thankfully carpeted living room.  Jack’s dick still pointed at her face from between her tits.  Amazingly, it had hardly shrunk down at all.  Every once in a while, it still pulsed within its fleshy trap.  Forcing her eyes away from his monstrous package, she spotted a large quilt draped over the sofa’s arm.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Elizabeth stalked over to the blanket.  Shifting Jack’s weight into one arm, she reached for the quilt with the other, forcing her boobs together as she extended.
	Right as she took hold of the quilt, a great, wet dollop burbled from Jack’s puckered urethra onto her chest.  Elizabeth’s eyes flared.  The hot plaster oozed over her squished mounds.  Amazingly, she could feel the boy’s dangling balls fattening and heating up against her flat belly.  The python between his legs was somehow mounting for another deluge.
	She’d have to get him back to his room before that happened, or else this mess was going to get out of control.
	Shawling the quilt around herself and Jack, she picked up her pace for the stairs at the other end of the room.  Jack leaked more and more of his juices onto Elizabeth’s naked skin, enough that it was beginning to run down her cleavage and stomach.  The meaty rod nestled between her tits throbbed more frequently now, its angry head flaring and leaking.  Reaching the stairs, Elizabeth carefully but quickly began her ascent.  Fortunately, her packed ass was giving her amazing support, and allowed her to easily scale the steps.  In a matter of seconds, her bare feet touched the upstairs landing.
	But, time was growing short.  Jack’s pre-cum was coming out in a continuous trickle, and was lubing up her chest enough that it was starting to slip around his mammoth dong.  The hot ooze ran all over her boobs, even over her nipples, which had again swelled to full size.  She guessed she only had seconds left.  If she could just keep it contained within his room...
	She darted into Jack's bedroom, and as she did, she felt a powerful heat begin to rise between her breasts.  Nimbly striding to the bed, Elizabeth offloaded the ludicrously hung boy onto the mattress.
	Jack's bouncing cock held tight for a split-second, then began firing his load.  The initial milky rope arced clear over the boy's body as his member bucked upward, squirting several feet and splashing onto a number of indistinguishable objects on the nearby dresser.  Elizabeth wasn't counting, but the burst lasted for several seconds, gushing from Jack's body with incredible force.  That familiar musk filled the air, captivating her mind, buzzing her tight womanhood.  Jack, still fast asleep, squirted volley after thick, rainy volley of jizz across the bedroom.
	In the back of Elizabeth's shackled mind, she thought back to their experience together in the bathroom.  The taste and texture of Jack's knob returned to her tongue, the feeling of his steamy spunk raining in globs onto her face and chest raised the tiny hairs on her skin.  She remembered the way his thickness had wedged perfectly between her juicy tits, the incredible way it had rubbed against them.  Elizabeth could feel her swollen nipples growing wet with her milk.  Jack's ejaculation seemed to be slowing, and was beginning to plaster his own body with cum as he lost pressure.
	Wrapping her shivering body with the quilt, Elizabeth battled her burning animal desires and backed her way out of the room.  The moment she closed the door in front of her, she could feel the sexual vice on her consciousness begin to lose its grip.  Still, she staggered as she moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom, where she was told she could sleep.  Hopefully, a good night's rest would grant her the wits she'd no doubt need to face this little dilemma.
	Lugging her voluptuous body into the bedroom, she closed the door and sank to her butt, sliding her back down the shuttered wood.  The quilt hung loosely from her shoulders, revealing her swollen chest, rippling slowly as they rested against her slanted thighs.  Milk was still sweating out of her paps, warming her flesh where it flowed.  The girl set gentle fingers against her sticky, puffy areolae, and grazed the edges of her pouting nubs with her fingernails.  Her nipples contracted at her touch, and fired arousing jolts through her body as they sputtered her cream.  An anguished sounding moan left her throat as her boobs throbbed with intense pleasure.
	She wouldn't be able to go on like this, she thought.  Her arousal was manipulating her almost every action, becoming the center around which her conscience was revolving.  Every nerve in her body would pulse with pleasure, and despite her gripping fear, she knew she loved it.  That was perhaps the scariest part of all.  She lusted for the bliss, for the sheer nirvana brought on by each raging orgasm.  Such stimulation, the likes of which she’d never even conceived, was seeming more and more like the only good thing left in the world.  She was now living, she realized, just so she could cum again.
	No!
	That wasn’t her.  She wouldn’t become that.  Elizabeth was an intelligent, productive member of society, even at her relatively young age.  She wasn’t just some cow, perpetually waiting to be milked!
	But as she looked down, into the crevasse of her gallon-sized breasts, at her engorged nipples peeking over her mounds, her conviction grew mired in doubt.  Why would her body have gone through such sudden, extreme changes and grown so vastly in sensitivity if not to max out her fertility?
	That was a strange thought to have, she guessed.  She was sure that kind of thing didn't just happen to people.  Biology didn't work like that.  And why had something similar happened to Jack right around the same time?  Nothing made sense.
	A shower, Elizabeth thought.  That's what she needed.  A shower would help clear her head and help her make sense of all this.  Lifting her ass from the floor (and leaving behind a large, heart-shaped imprint on the carpet,) she rose to her feet.  Her great milkers bounced freely as she walked to the master bathroom, no longer confined by the quilt.  Her naked ass cheeks rolled and her thighs rubbed with each step, the friction from each challenging her not to start playing with herself again.
	Elizabeth stepped into the sleek-looking bathroom, raising the lights to a dim glow.  Her wildly curvaceous breasts, hips, and legs were reflected in the mirror that ran the length of the onyx and marble countertop.  She tried to ignore the unfamiliar image of herself, and sulked into the glass shower cubicle.  It was somewhat tight quarters, owing to her progressed body mass.  The confinement made her feel as though she could barely keep both her tits and her ass from touching the walls.  She wrapped an anxious hand around her wrist, pressing her arms to her torso and unintentionally pushing her mega mammaries out like a pair of rising soufflés.  She felt her face flush as her squeezed breasts let forth another spray of milk onto the tile wall.
	The Prince parents had a removable shower-head, and an impressive collection of washes and shampoos on the hanging metal rack.  Turning the nozzle aside, Elizabeth reached for the silver water handle and lifted it.  The jet of steamy water hissed out if the shower, streaming down the side glass.  Elizabeth tested the water with an out-held hand, and, finding a good temperature with her other, readjusted the shower-head toward herself.
	But, the moment the cascades began to beat against Elizabeth's bursting chest, her entire body was swallowed by an amazing, blissfully familiar fire.  It erupted first where the water hit her skin, flaring through her breasts and into her nipples, simultaneously blazing down her spine and into her loins.  Her faltering equilibrium brought her wobbling backward, ass-first against the slippery glass wall.  The shower sprayed her tits, each of the million flying droplets like an erogenous sunburst exploding through her body’s pleasure centers.
	Elizabeth gasped uncontrollably.  Her shapely body was already clenching in orgasm, and her breasts seemed to be swelling with intense pressure.  Watching with watery eyes and clutching the cool undersides of her bountiful tits, she saw her nipples and areolae very slowly ballooning outward.  They itched from within, as if she were having a kind of allergic reaction, and continued growing out until they themselves were about the size of b-cups.  The tension behind them mounted into a radiating pain, blending with the thundering waves of her climax.  Her over-distended nipples throbbed and twitched.  Intermittent puffs of milk escaped her paps as her mound pulsed and wracked her nerves and muscles with floods of endorphins.
	Finally, the ache in Elizabeth’s bloated breasts hit an agonizing cap.  Her quivering nipples wept pearly streaks as she slid to the floor.  She ran her shaking hands up across her jugs, cupping her fingers beneath her bulging areolae.  Her tits felt like they were going to burst!  Reflexively, she gave her glistening nipples a furious squeeze.
	Elizabeth couldn’t keep back her moan.  She rested the back of her head against the glass as her pussy went into nuclear overdrive, her thigh and ass muscles contracting to steel tightness, vaginal juices loudly hosing the opposite wall.  As she squeezed her ready-to-burst paps, thick streams of milk exploded forth, not unlike water rushing out of a watering can, only propelled with far greater force.  Elizabeth’s squirting nipples buzzed ecstatically, as if her torrential letdown were in fact a pair of powerful orgasms from just her tits.  The release of the blistering pressure from her milk glands sent tremendous waves of relief all through her enormous boobs, while her thick, hot cream flowed in great enough volumes to distend her milk ducts to riveting tautness.  She began to jerk and squeeze her ripened teats, effectively milking herself as though she were that proverbial cow she’d been thinking of earlier.
	Alternating her strokes, Elizabeth painted the shower with her creamy streamers.  Her udders certainly seemed to be in no short supply of milk.  They still felt filled to the brim, and her areolae remained ludicrously bloated.  She desperately worked her overflowing cream out of her aching tits, letting her fingers roam freely across her soft, supple flesh, squeezing them wherever and in any way she could.  The shower stream yet fueled her debilitating orgasm, leaving her body dripping with water and her own juices.
	The intoxicating aroma of Elizabeth’s milk snaked into her nostrils.  Every thick squirt layered on greater sweetness in the moist air.  Driven purely by animal instinct, she lifted a fat tit, angling her volcanic nipple toward her mouth.  Without hesitating, she pressed her lips to the nub, forming a warm vacuum-seal.  Elizabeth sucked with all her might, instantly feeling her milk gushing into her hot mouth.  Its silky smoothness soothed the burning in her throat, warmly trickling down to her stomach.  Closing her eyes, she went through additional flashbacks of having Jack’s arm-sized dick thrust into her mouth, of sucking down his juices and trailing her tongue all across its patchy surface.  Elizabeth’s other hand left her free breast and joined the other in supporting her weighty boob.  Sucking and squeezing, Elizabeth was producing so much milk that she couldn’t swallow all of it.  Excess nectar gurgled from the corners of her mouth and down her chin.  Still, she lustfully rubbed her swollen tit, swallowing every drop she possibly could.
	Finally, with the milk in her tummy veiling her senses in drowsiness, Elizabeth released her giant nipple with a loud pop.  Her udder slapped against her stomach, rippling just like a jello dessert, and still leaking gentle, pearly rivulets.  Feeling her orgasm fade to a dull tingle between her legs, she started fumbling with her hands and feet to gain ground support.  Finding it, she lurched to her knees, then, one foot at a time, brought herself to a precarious stand.  The shower stream abated as she lowered the water handle.  The only sound then was that of the water and milk dripping softly from her provocatively curvaceous form.
	Stewing silently at the fact that her shower idea had proven an utter failure, Elizabeth bumped the glass door open and staggered onto the bathmat.  She grabbed the top towel from a stack on the nearby shelf, brandishing it open and laying it atop her watermelon tits.  Elizabeth didn’t even need to hold the towel with her hands; it clung perfectly to her damp, almost-horizontal bust-line.  Rubbing her body dry, she quickly realized that the bath towel wasn’t going to be nearly big enough for her to wrap it around herself.  Dejected, she instead wrapped the cloth over her hair, and scanned the room.
	On the bathroom door hung a black bathrobe.  That’d have to do, she thought.  Smacking her pruny feet toward the door, she took the robe and examined it, holding the sleeves apart.  It would still be way too small on her, but she reckoned she could at least get it to cover her nipples, even if she couldn’t tie it closed.  The girl slipped her arms into the soft fabric, and drew it as best she could over her proud chest.
	Zombie-shuffling into the bedroom, Elizabeth still felt the after-tremors of her shower-ridden orgasm.  That short ride had been amazing, truly, but once again, Elizabeth was stuck knowing that it wasn’t right.  She had transformed into some sort of sex freak.  It was that simple.  Same thing with Jack.
	Suddenly, her thoughts were replaced with ones of Jack, of that boy with the comically out-of-place monster cock.  He was like a counterpart to her now.  Jack had shared in the same sort of inexplicable change, becoming something totally different from before, and that change now seemed to be drawing the two of them much closer to one another.
	That’s how Elizabeth felt, anyway.  She could only shake her head at herself, thinking such perverse, adult thoughts about the boy whom she was being paid to watch after.  If Jack’s parents discovered what had happened between her and their son...
	But she couldn’t dwell on it with her head growing so heavy and tired.  As Elizabeth’s knees touched the bedside, she tipped and planted chest-first onto the mattress.  Dragging the rest of her body, she rolled onto her back, letting the robe fall open and her breasts spill to her sides.  She set a tired hand to her twitching womanhood, softly running her fingertips along her still-moist labia.  Moving onto her side, she pulled her other hand across the bedsheets to her monumental derrière.  She blindly, gently groped one juicy cheek, sensing its remarkable firmness, feeling its great mass fill her palm and outstretched fingers.
	A freak?  Or, she asked herself, was she something better?  Despite everything bad she had dreaded to this sleepy point, the repercussions had, so far, only been good.  Sliding the back of her hand across her hip, she nestled it comfortably between her thick thighs, feeling herself pulse lightly against her thumb.
	Warmed by her body’s own sexual glow, Elizabeth let her eyelids fall, and her mind let go.Implications

	"Ooh..."
	Clara's subconscious whispered to her.  Unformed words drifted into her floating head as she floated the unconscious void, without weight, without destination.  Only the echoing resonance of her memories and the implacable murmurs breached her closed shell.
	"Ah..."
	She recalled days from before the Academy.  Her parents, respected doctors, had always encouraged her to do what made her happy, so long as she made others happy too.  Clara had, for a time, believed that beneath her parents’ kind words laid an unspoken desire for her to become a doctor or a scientist like themselves.  But when she’d shared with them her intentions to enroll at the Stewardship Academy, she’d felt their happiness and pride.  That belief in her decision had steered her to succeed, to be all that she could.
	"Mmph..."
	Now, all of it was changing.  The very institution to which she’d committed herself had turned on its head, violating the very core belief of all it embodied.  If Clara’s parents could’ve seen her now, and understood Headmistress Athenon’s betrayal of the most fundamental principles of the Stewardship, she wasn’t sure what they might say.  Athenon and her daughter claimed to crusade in the name of mutual gratification for both Fairies and Humans.  Would Clara’s parents have agreed?
	"Mmph...oooaAHH!"
	Clara felt her back reach a cool, smooth surface.  Her energies trickled from her unsealed mind into her muscles and nerves.  Clarity filtered back, raising her from the depths.  Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open.  Warm light faded in, hovering just out of focus.  Her feet flattened against the hard ground.
	"Well, look who’s—AUGHH!"
	Struck with adrenaline, Clara rolled onto her hip, raising herself with her arm.  She was in an alcove looking into a large, gilded chamber, which itself looked out over the sprawling cityscape of Tyrania, the Fairy capital.
	Diana sat spread-eagled on a sofa at the center of the chamber, her arms slung round the shoulders of a pair of Faeon women, whose hands, lips, and tongues caressed the pink-haired woman's masted penis.  She closed her eyes and bit her lips, her newly-gained bat wings fidgeting behind the couch.  Sweat glistened on her collar and breasts.  The Faeons, crouched on their elbows and knees with their backs arched and their perfectly-sculpted rears in the air, worked Diana’s cock with astounding skill.  One of them lavished the organ’s base, while the other deftly polished the swollen head.  Diana tossed her head back, panting deeply, contracting her hard abs. 
	In mere moments, Diana’s impressive dick swelled to the verge of bursting.  A thick jet of semen squirted from her engorged tip, flying high across the room and splattering against the floor.  The woman’s thighs and abs flexed with each pump of fluid.  Her hands squeezed the Faeons’ round, smooth asses while they continued to service her pole.  They pumped her and pumped her, and her pearly juices rocketed out, zig-zagging with every forceful jerk.
	Diana's hands flew beneath the Faeons' chiseled stomachs, wrapping around both of their fat, rigid cocks.  Still in the wet, explosive throes of ejaculation, the Pink-haired Imp stroked the swollen, olive-skinned pair of dicks, her hands aglow with her fuchsia radiance.  The Faeons rose to Diana's height, their straight, black hair hanging over their breasts as the pink shimmer enveloped their long, porky members.  Their swollen cockheads flared massively, and in an instant began spraying tremendous loads of their seed.  The pearly fluids hosed out of their distended knobs in continuous ropes, splashing onto one another, plastering each other from head to thigh.  Diana wrapped her hands around her own penis, pointing it toward her chin and frosting her face and tits with her flying spunk, catching escaping drops with her circling tongue.
	The trifecta’s moans echoed through the wide room, deep and lustful.  Clara could still feel the soreness in her throat from having Diana’s monster rammed down her gullet, and the residual burn of her copious seed.  Her loins tingled, and she quickly whipped her gaze aside in shame.  She shouldn’t have been aroused by any of this.  These women were planning to bring the Netherrealm to ruin!
	"Aren’t there things you ought to be doing?"
	Clara looked to the side of the room, spotting Athenon in the round doorway.  The Headmistress looked on with rigid disapproval at her daughter, whose juices continued in ebbing spurts.  The woman raised a spindly hand, summoning a violet aura to her palm and hurling it in a blinding bolt at Diana and her consorts.  Bursting into a purple plume, the spell brewed thickly around them.  Immediately, their explosive orgasms hit a curb, slowing to small, pearly trickles.
	Diana's hands slid off of her attendants' ample asses as her penis softened.  She stood, wiping hers and the Faeons' sticky goo from her chest and slurping it from her fingers, and approached her mother.
	"Just offering these ladies some gratification for their...services," Diana licked.  Her ass-cheeks rolled remarkably as she slinked across the room toward Athenon.  "Everything's been taken care of.  I have people watching the boy and his sitter as we speak, so what's the matter if I decide to give my ladies some butter for their bread?"
	Clara stepped quietly toward the women while the Faeons basked on the sofa, panting deeply as they fell from their over-stimulated high.
 	Crack
	Clara grunted as she was tossed back by a mighty repulse.  Landing hard on her ass, she took a moment to shake away the shock.  She should have expected Diana to erect a force-field to contain her, she thought.  Hopefully, it would be one she could dismantle using her own magic.  She gulped, though, as she recalled that Diana had proven far more adept at wielding her powers than she'd taken her for.  Perhaps once Diana left, Clara would be able to spend some time examining her situation.
	Diana and Athenon, meanwhile, paid no attention to Clara's stumble.
	"There is more to this, Diana, than simply keeping a close eye over our zero-specimens," Athenon lectured.  "We must remain vigilant, lest the Ruling Council learn—"
	"Hah!" Diana furled her leathery wings, cloaking herself.  "The Ruling Council didn't find out about your undisclosed business with your Academy friend.  I sincerely doubt they'll give two thoughts about some faceless undergraduate."
	"Are you forgetting?" Athenon asked.  "The Thraughte family maintains public prestige.  If the girl's parents are to inquire, their requests will not fall upon deaf ears."
	Clara cleared her throat, "I am right here."
	They glanced in her direction.  Diana smirked.
	"As far as her parents know," Diana said, "Their dear Clara is on extended assignment."
	Clara's mind began to race.  Had Diana actually cut her off from her parents, the only people who would even think to ask about her?
	"Let us both hope that belief holds," Athenon murmured.  "If you'll come with me now, Diana, Agru wishes to speak to both of us in regards to the distribution of her women."
	"Of course," Diana answered, pivoting her body but locking her gaze on Clara."
	Athenon, giving her daughter a final, reproachful stare, spun around, and exited the chamber.  Diana skulked after her, still cloaked, not removing her eyes from her prisoner.
	"Don't go making the wrong friends now, darling," the Faeon nearly whispered.  "I'll be back for you soon."
	With a snap of her fingers, her Faeon guardswomen were at her side.  Folding back her wings and giving her attendants each a full-handed squeeze on their thick asses, she stepped purposefully out of the chamber, dick swinging around knee-level, her Faeons in close tow.
	Clara was alone.
	"Hello?"
	Or maybe not.
	"Hello?" Clara echoed, scampering to the alcove wall and pressing her forehead against the smooth stone.
	Silence for a moment, and then, "You're the Thraughte girl?"
	Clara was nearly gasping in a mix of relief and anxiety, "Y-yes!  Yes, I was brought here by Diana's Faeons."
	"Yes," the muffled female voice said.  "About two hours ago."
	Clara's knuckles curled against the wall.  "Who are you?"
	There was a knock on the wall.  "Lysyria DeAmos.  I was brought here at least two days ago."
	Clara lifted her forehead from the stone, "The FSA's dimensional-physics professor?"
	"I'd be flattered under different circumstances," Lysyria said, unamused.  "You heard Athenon's daughter mention that 'undisclosed business' at the Academy?"
	"The Headmistress had you captured?" Clara asked, though she realized that was probably a stupid question.
	"Athenon came to me," the woman said, "and began asking me about theories relating to the core dimensional essences and the factors influencing them."
	Clara rested the side of her head against the wall, listening.
	Lysyria went on, "She wanted to know what most staved the Netherrealm's ambience.  I think you can guess how the conversation went from there."
	"She took you because you were opposed?" Clara asked.
	"I threatened to go to the authorities, and…then I was here."
	Clara curled her lip.  "Do you know where exactly we are?"
	"Somewhere in Tyrania’s East district, based on that cityscape," Lysyria answered.  "but that could very well be an illusion cast by Athenon…or her daughter."
	Clara paced away from the wall.  She clenched her fists, angrily shuffling through half-baked ideas of escape.
	"That girl, Diana…" the professor murmured through the stone.
	Clara returned to the wall, sitting cross-legged on the ground.  "Has she done anything to you since you were brought here?"
	She heard Lysyria’s muzzled snort.
	"She came by the first night I was here," the woman recalled.  "Came up to my cell and asked me if I’d reconsidered what they were suggesting.  I didn’t answer, so she lowered the barrier and…throttled me until I gave her an answer."
	Clara found herself wondering feverishly what that so-called throttling might have entailed.  Not knowing what exactly Lysyria looked like, she had to imagine it from her own point of view.  She could see Diana barging into the cell, her wide curves silhouetted against the glimmering cityscape.  She again felt the woman’s muscular weight holding her down, her giant breasts docked against hers.  A pair of invisible hands seemed to feel across her body, squeezing her ass and rubbing between her thighs.  Goosebumps sprung across Clara’s skin as she imagined  Diana’s hot, skilled tongue slipping back into her throat.
	With a small gasp, Clara came to.  Immediately, thoughts of despair and self-loathing bombarded her mind.  What was this surfacing obsession with Diana?  The woman had forced Clara to choke on a massive cock and swallow!  What could possibly be possessing her to lust for her sculpted body and mind-boggling curves?  She sank to her knees, and her hand unconsciously traced the top of her thigh, traveling to her warming vagina.
	"Do…you know how they plan on carrying out their schemes?" Clara asked, pressing her finger against her clit.  "There are billions of Humans in the Netherrealm.  It would take far too long for the two of them to cast their spell on every single person on Earth."
	"I’m not entirely certain," Lysyria replied.  "But, did you notice how Athenon referred to the Humans you and Diana encountered?"
	Clara tried to think back, biting her lip as she slipped a pair of fingers into her sopping womanhood.
	"Ohh…she called them…zero-specimens?"
	"Yes," Lysyria said.  "That suggests to me that this condition may be spread by transmission.  Perhaps these Humans—one male, one female—are the ground zero for a pandemic."
	Clara got another finger inside of herself.  Diana couldn’t get away with this.  If nothing was done, either Jack or Elizabeth would spread their affliction to someone else, and then that person would spread it to someone else, and on, and on, until the entire Human race was infected with the sex bug.  They might even undergo the same sort of bodily growth that Jack and Elizabeth had—
	Keeping her lips sealed, Clara burst into orgasm, tightening around her slick fingers.  Her nipples went rock hard as wave upon wave of electric pleasure pulsed through her.  Her entire body flexed, even as her climax wound down, twitching in chilling bliss.
	Clara flopped onto her side, hand still cupped against her quivering womanhood, and the other brushing softly against her tight, heart-shaped ass, leaving a streak of goosebumps in its wake.  This was not helping her situation at all, she thought, but at least she had gotten it out of her system.
	Her heart skipped as she heard heavy footsteps echoing from outside of the chamber.  Clara’s mind told her to back into the corner, yet her body stayed curled on the ground, content with soaking in the sexual haze that still surrounded her.
	"I think there’s a way we can get out of here," Lysyria hissed.  "There are Faeon guards coming right now to have a turn with us."
	Clara’s head rolled toward Lysyria’s wall, "A turn with us?"  Why couldn't these women have come just a few minutes earlier, when she could have 
	"The Faeons have been issued handstaffs as pacification tools," Lysyria continued.  "They keep them clasped to their belts.  If one of us can grab and use one of their staffs, then the other can grab the second staff while they’re confused.  Do you understand?"
	"I-I don’t know," Clara sputtered, "I—"
	"Clara," Lysyria cut, "you can do it."
	Into the chamber stalked a pair of towering Faeon women, both obscured by embroidered visors.  One approached Clara's cell, and the other moved out of sight to the right.  The long-haired woman stood before the threshold, shifting her buxom hips and running her middle and index fingers against the length of her thick member.  Clara’s throat swelled as the fleshy python slowly lifted into the air, darkening and fattening.  The woman smacked something on the outer wall, and the cell’s barrier flashed.  Slinking into the alcove with her fully-erect, torpedo-like dick, she shot an arm around Clara’s waist, yanking her close.  The woman’s cock was sandwiched between their torsos, drooling hot pre-cum onto Clara’s chest.  Clara tried to keep her shuddering breaths under control.  Her heart pounded as the Faeon grinned maliciously, dipping a finger into her oozing juices and trailing it across Clara’s chest.  
	The woman flung Clara out into the chamber, where she landed on her hands and knees.  Her eyes darted back toward the cells, toward the one next to hers, in which Lysyria must have been.  The other Faeon’s huge, muscular ass obstructed her view into the cell, however.  Before Clara could move herself, a powerful hand took her by the ankle and yanked her onto the ground, dragging her backward.  She whimpered, watery-eyed, as the Faeon’s hands grabbed her by the hips and pulled her ass firmly against her skyward dong.  The mammoth member rubbed hotly between her buttocks, its musky juices trickling down the shaft and Clara’s ass.  The Faeon’s hands left Clara’s hips and wrapped around her wrists, tugging her arms back like a set of reins.  Clara could feel the woman still grinding fiercely against her crevasse, building greater and greater friction against her tingling anus, leaking copious fluid down her privates.  Against her frightened state of mind, her loins began to moisten.
	Then, the Faeon woman pulled her pelvis away for a brief moment, and before Clara could even had a chance to gasp, the plum-like cockhead was at her swollen labia.  Clara’s jaw fell open with a mighty groan as the Faeon pushed her tremendous cock into her, working its huge, distended mass into her tight entrance.  The monster filled her.  She felt it climbing within her, approaching her belly, and although she felt pain, it was overridden by rapid shockwaves of unimaginable pleasure.  Clara knew that even once the woman’s steel glans stopped against her womb, that the whole thing wasn’t yet inside of her.  Her inner walls pulled, flexing in a mind-stealing climax.  A guttural scream erupted from her, spending every molecule of oxygen in her lungs.  The edges of the beastly cockhead scraped softly within her, like a ring of tingling fire thrusting back and forth.  Clara’s hips began to move on their own, in tandem with the assaulting monster-cock, getting it to hit her in her most sensitive spots.  Orgasm after orgasm exploded through Clara’s body.  She felt her juices spraying down her thighs, heard them splattering against the floor.  The Faeon’s mannish hands were like handcuffs around her wrists, keeping her torso airborne while the woman tirelessly hammered into her.  By now, Clara’s teeth were ground together.  Boiling tears streaked down her face, not from the pain, but from the ecstasy.  Every thrust made a loud slap and squish.  She heard both of their fluids slipping around inside of her.  Her skull and spine rattled each time the Faeon’s mast slammed against her cervix.  Her throat was ragged, ablaze with trapped outcry.  All of this sensation, this overloading bliss—it might be enough to make her explode, she thought.
	Clara managed to glance ahead as another body hit the floor.  A woman with black hair in a voluminous ponytail, finely-feathered wings, and a healthy tan curled beneath the second Faeon.  This was Lysyria, Clara thought.
	Lysyria yelped as the Faeon seized her by the ponytail, lifting her.  Clara then saw that Lysyria was herself spectacularly endowed, sporting a pair of perfectly formed breasts, even bigger than Diana’s.  They were smooth, full, and glistening, with erect, chocolate nipples, swaying ever so slightly under gravity, each clearly larger than the woman’s own head.  The Faeon kept pulling at Lysyria’s hair, forcing the pretty-faced woman to arch her back and stick her prodigious chest out even further.
	Clara’s entire body continued to be rocked by the pneumatic fucking it was receiving, but she tried desperately to make some sort of contact with Lysyria.  The words she wanted to form failed, coming out as drawling animal noises.  Lysyria’s Faeon grabbed the woman by the shoulder, flipping her body around and setting her back onto the floor.  The Faeon lowered her penis, resting it against Lysyria’s sternum, and took a juicy breast in either hand, squeezing them around her beefy organ.  She began moving her hips back and forth, slipping between Lysyria’s jugs and plastering them with her translucent sauce.  Lysyria’s tits rippled and jiggled with every movement, pillowing the solid monster between them.
	While Lysyria had her giant, jello-y milkers fucked, Clara began to feel herself growing numb.  She had cum so many times that she couldn’t tell anymore when one orgasm ended and the other began.  Her body was just a toy to this Faeon woman, who may or may not have even been close to hitting her own bursting point.  All Clara could do was let herself be skewered by this woman’s monolithic pork roll, let it force her apart and sock her in the womb.
	Zap
	Just like that, the merciless thrusting stopped.  Clara looked forward, mouth still agape.  Lysyria had in her hand a curved device, pointed at her Faeon and glowering a bright blue.  The Faeon was frozen, an open-mouthed expression of terrible shock stamped onto her face.  The woman’s cock swung up from out of Lysyria’s cleavage, an azure mist simmering from her urethra.
	Suddenly, the Faeon tossed her head back, groaning loudly.  The other three women watched on, petrified as she fell to her ass and panted deeply.  Immediately, the Faeon’s cock pulsed hugely, and then began to swell even larger.  Clara’s eyes were cemented to the woman’s expanding member, which grew thicker, darker, and veinier.  Her balls too gained inconceivable volume, plumping up quickly to the size of melons.  The whole while, the woman moaned and whined, falling further back onto her elbows.  In seconds, her dick stood nearly three feet long and as thick around as one of her immense thighs.  Sweat beaded across her entire muscular body.
	Then, with a mighty flex of her entire, shapely body, the Faeon began to cum.  But this wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill orgasm.  This already surpassed even what Clara had seen in Jack earlier on.  The woman’s milky spooge fountained out, thick as a faucet stream.  It sprayed and gushed and splattered.  The Faeon screamed passionately as she gave everything she had, squirting quarts of her seed by the second, plastering the floor, Lysyria and her breasts, Clara, and even the other Faeon.  It was like watching a waterfall run upside-down.
	Clara felt the log inside of her begin to quickly pull out.  Oh no, she thought.  She was going to hit Lysyria with her own staff.  
	"Lysyria!"
	As the name left her throat, she felt the Faeon come to a jarring stop as its dickhead was about to pull free.  She realized its glans must have been so swollen, it was stuck inside of her.
	Good.
	Lysyria spun, her giant boobs slapping against one another, and fired a blinding bolt at Clara’s Faeon.  Pulling herself forward, Clara audibly popped herself free of the Faeon’s oversized knob, and collapsed onto her stomach.  Her outstretched inner walls ached awfully, but she could feel them relaxing, easing.  With a crimson cheek against the cool, marble floor, she shifted all her focus onto her own breathing and heartbeat.  She concentrated on these even as she heard her Faeon’s fuzzy screams, even as she saw Lysyria come to a kneel next to her, even as the scalding cum began to pour onto her nude, beaten body by the bucketload.  All the heavy scents of musk and sex plugged Clara’s nostrils.  Her fingers trembled toward her abused pussy, assessing the damage.  Her clit had swollen larger than ever before, like the tip of her pinky finger.  She could feel her entrance still slightly agape, but was relieved to also feel it returning to normal.  Her entire body yet shivered uncontrollably in the afterburn of her countless, head-to-toe orgasms
	Unabated waves of salty cum smacked loudly against Clara’s back.  Lysyria’s hands came beneath her armpits, and dragged her partway from the splash zone.  Clara’s eyelids fluttered, heavy and tired.  She wasn’t ready to go on.
	But she had to.
	"Clara!" Lysyria barked.  "Clara, we need to move!"
	Clara wobbled onto her hands.  Her strength and senses were slowly coming back to her.  She could see both Faeons still on the floor, still cumming like angry volcanoes out of cocks that were almost as big as they were.  She now noticed that the womens’ breasts had grown out as well, big as their heads.
	"W…what’s happening to them?" Clara asked, eyeing the hyper-stimulated, juiced women.
	Lysyria briefly examined the curved handstaff.  "It’s the spellstone within these staffs.  Diana's work, I'm sure."
	Clara was still catching her breath, "This is…part of their plan?"
	"It must be," Lysyria acknowledged, offering up a second staff.  "Here’s the other one."
	Taking the smooth-handled tool, Clara inspected its onyx finish and quilled emitter.  She would no doubt have to use it in the near future, subjecting more of Diana’s and Athenon’s subordinates to such a sexual form of debilitation.  But greater things were at stake now.
	She held the device at her hip and met Lysyria’s stern gaze.
	"Let’s go."Friday, 10:05am

	Jack clutched to Elizabeth’s massive breasts, taking large handfuls of soft, squishy flesh and kneading furiously.  The babysitter watched him with a gentle, soothing smile, not saying a word, but seemingly imploring him from her heart to take her.  Wrapping his lips around a bloated, quivering nipple, Jack immediately felt the girl's thick, sweet nectar wash down his throat.  From between his legs, his newly enormous penis rose and swelled.  The absurdly long member hardened to absolute tautness, as long and thick as two shampoo bottles stacked end-on-end.  Straw-sized veins which he’d never seen before squiggled prominently across its length, pulsing in time with his racing heart.  The apple-sized tip of his beastly dick rested firmly between Elizabeth’s boobs, positively drooling its clear, sticky goo.
	All he knew was that this…feeling that pumped through his entire body was the most wonderful thing he’d ever felt.  It was more than knowing his parents loved him, more than doing well in school, more than having friends.  What he and Elizabeth were sharing flooded him with a sensation he never wanted to end.  His arm-length penis brimmed with intense euphoria, tingling inside and out as though a million volts were running through him and bursting within his anaconda-esque cock.
	Elizabeth gave her pillowy breasts one more squeeze against his distended knob, and then set her hands on its maroon-shade head, pushing it toward Jack.  She held it to his chest, where it burned and oozed, its heavy aroma invading his lungs.  He knew what it tasted like, having swallowed a bit of his own juice earlier in the night.  It was extremely salty, yet it had filled him with even greater feelings of pleasure and need.  The bloated cockhead puckered at him, asking him to drink from it, from himself.
	Jack dipped his head, and pressed his lips against his fat tip.  His mouth slid over his dick’s rough, slippery skin, taking in his salty essence.  His tongue made a few slow rings around his swollen urethra before sliding into it.  He became wracked with ecstatic fire as his wet tongue licked against the inner shaft of his dong, scooping in large gulps of musky juice.  Elizabeth’s hands scooped up his grapefruit-sized balls, feeling them gently, rubbing them in just the right way.  Jack felt that pressure building up again.  His abdomen flexed as his juices began to flow from deep within.  Every ounce rushed through his body, to his pelvis, up his shaft like a bursting river.  It climbed and climbed, like mercury in a thermometer, hitting his tip—
	"Jack!"
	Jack couldn’t stop it.  His milk exploded from his steely cock, harder and thicker than it had before.  Past Elizabeth, he saw his mother and his father.  They watched him, not angry, not pleased.  They were like statues, staring at him with concrete eyes.  Gallons of juice ripped out of his lengthy shaft, so thickly it sounded like ketchup being squirted from a bottle.  The pearly fluids splashed heavily against his face, into his open mouth.  Thick droplets bounced off of him as well, smacking against Elizabeth’s voluptuous body.  She too, Jack noticed from behind his boiling milk-geyser, stared at him with the same sort of stony expression as his parents.  His surroundings seemed to melt as he squirted, and squirted, and squirted.
	Squrrrrrrrrt.  Squrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt.
	Jack’s eyes flashed open as he felt a jet of hot liquid beat against his cheek.  He shot up, finding himself still naked in bed.  Shivers hit his spine as another heavenly rope of juice rocketed out of his chest-high penis, splashing onto his face and chest.  Closing his eyes, he threw his hands around his soup-can-thick shaft and, with considerable effort, aimed it away from himself.  Hot milk dripped from his chin while his organ continued to spew his spunk against his closet-mounted mirror, each long squirt firing sharp pulses of overwhelming bliss back through him.  His breaths were quick and loud, strained by the spine-jerking throes of his climax.  He almost didn’t care that his liters of juices were splattering onto the discarded clothes on the floor.  The opaque fluid streaked the mirror with long, curving strings.  His balls tightened sorely with each bountiful gout.
	After maybe two minutes, his juices started to curb, leaving his distended shaft in shorter and shorter arcs until only his bedsheets bore the wet brunt of his squirts.  Jack’s heart sank somewhat as he realized that his growing a huge penis hadn’t just been a bad dream, and that it was even giving him problems while he slept.  At least, he thought, it seemed to be softening for now.  The shaft lost altitude, retracting slowly until it was only a couple inches above his knee-level.  Trickles of fluid still pooled out of the tip, and still caused him to shudder in hair-raising relief.
	Looking over to the clock on his nightstand, however, Jack’s anxiety spiked once more.  It was 10:09am—he’d missed his school bus!
	Well, he thought, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him considering his new…gift.
	Jack set his feet on the carpet, his spongy dick slapping his lower thighs as he stood.  Inspecting his room, he saw that the only clothes he hadn’t managed to soak with his juice were a pair of sweatpants and his gym-class T-shirt.  At least they would be loose-fitting, he thought.  The hanging tip of his penis dragged slightly against the coarse carpet as he crouched to retrieve the clothing, forcing a small gasp from his throat.  Stepping into the sweatpants and slipping the shirt over his head, he walked over to the goo-frosted mirror to examine himself.
	Even in the baggy pants, he looked as though he were smuggling fruit.  It couldn’t be helped, he guessed.  It seemed he was stuck with these absurd endowments.
	Grabbing a slightly damp towel from the floor, he wiped what was left of his juice from his face and turned to the door.  Entering the hallway, Jack groggily shambled toward the stairs.  He could hear the sink running in the kitchen.  Making his way to the ground floor and through the living room, he saw Elizabeth with her back turned, clad in his mother’s bathrobe, and still as curvy like an hourglass.  Her big butt stretched the robe so tight, it looked to Jack as though it were about to burst off of her.  She turned, and he saw the titanic breasts from his dreams, barely framed by the bathrobe, which came nowhere near being able to close over her dramatic figure.  Jack’s eyes wandered down, resting on the wide V of her thighs and pelvis, visible through the parted fabric.
	"Jack, hey," she said, dropping a hand in front of her crotch and pressing her juicy thighs together.  "How did you sleep?"
	Jack tried to ignore the distinct twitch he felt in his loins.  "Uh, I slept fine…"
	Elizabeth tried to grin, but it crumbled as her face flushed a deep red.  She tried drawing the robe closer with her other hand, but hadn’t much luck.
	"I called your school," she said.  "I told them you weren’t feeling well.  I figured…you’d want time to rest…after last night."
	Jack nodded slowly, silently.  He couldn’t peel himself away from Elizabeth’s incredible body.  Her breasts and hips and thighs…her bewildering proportions were so unfamiliar to Jack, so fantastic, that he was finding himself utterly enticed by the mere sight of his babysitter.  She seemed to notice.  Her eyes couldn’t meet his, her cheeks glowed red.  They shared few words, but Jack felt he understood what they were both thinking.  Stronger twitches sparked through his pelvic region.
	"Would you like anything to eat?" Elizabeth asked.  "I can make eggs or…toast."
	"Just cereal," Jack replied, solemnly taking a chair at the kitchen table.
	Elizabeth nodded, curling her lips.  She again turned her back to him, and began fetching the cereal and milk.  Jack watched the way her body move as she did.  Though somewhat clothed, he could perceive everything.  He saw the way her huge butt-cheeks rolled as she shifted  her weight, saw her fat, tear-drop breasts jiggling with even the slightest movement.  His breathing turned heavy as he felt blood beginning to travel to his groin.
	The babysitter spun and set the cereal in front of Jack, her udders swaying as she very slightly bent forward.  Jack was lost in the mile-long cleavage jiggling before him, tantalizing him.  He remembered how it felt, remembered the plushness from earlier in the night and from in his dream.  The softness, the warmth, the overpowering pleasure of it all charged his mind and his oversized genitals.  Slowly, Jack’s giant dick began to swell beneath his sweatpants.
	"Jack?" Elizabeth said, concerned.  "Is this okay?"
	Jack nodded, his mouth ajar.  He took the silver spoon in his prickling hand, scooping out a bite of cheerios.  The cereal went into his loose mouth, crunched as his teeth creaked together.  He tried to focus on the flavors of the honeyed grain and milk, but it was all too bland.  This was nowhere near as sweet as Elizabeth’s milk.  It didn’t hit the spot like her thick cream, trickling down his throat, leaving her taste on his tongue.  There wasn’t the satisfaction of having her swollen pap suctioned to his lips, very softly bitten between his teeth, squirting warm gouts with every lustful suck.  
	Before he even knew it, Jack was out of the chair.  Elizabeth was busy over the sink, cleaning dishes, wiggling her shapely behind as she scrubbed.  Jack's hands traveled to his waistband as he took staggering steps toward the curvy sitter, pulling the sweatpants down his thighs, over the incredible length of his rapidly hardening shaft.  As the elastic rolled over his angry cockhead, the heavy, solid rod catapulted against his chest with a dull thunk before bobbing around the height of his navel.  Dollops of the boy’s thick, clear juice already oozed to the floor as he pulled the gym shirt off over his head.  He stepped nearer and nearer to the unaware babysitter, holding his arms forward like a zombie.  His overblown penis stealthily hovered between her smooth meaty legs, mashing just slightly against the lower cabinet doors.
	She was within his reach.
	Giving into the clawing urges, Jack flung his arms beneath Elizabeth’s bathrobe, reaching as far as he could around her enormous hips, only touching the fronts of her thighs.  He pulled his body against her gigantic, firm-yet-plush ass, sinking into her bewilderingly soft curves.  The pan that had been in Elizabeth’s hand clattered into the sink.  She stumbled back, but Jack was steadied against her.  His head rested against the small of her back and her buttocks pressed most of his torso.  He heard Elizabeth gasping, felt her feet wobbling.  His hands felt hungrily around her silky hips.  Closing her thighs, the sitter sandwiched Jack’s swollen cock tightly between them.
	"Jack," Elizabeth breathed, pivoting away from kitchen counter with Jack riding her heels.  "Jack, please, don’t."
	Jack could not obey.  His dick was being squeezed perfectly between her juicy thighs.  He found himself moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his oversized shaft through the tight, fleshy trap she had created.  More of his juices gurgled out of his engorged tip, drizzling onto the hardwood and Elizabeth’s feet.  Running his hands up Elizabeth’s slim stomach, he found the knot keeping the robe together and set his fingers to loosening it.  Elizabeth noticed, and clasped her hands over his.
	"Jack, no!"
	But she was powerless to stop him.  The more Jack slipped his fourteen-incher between her supple thighs, the greater difficulty the girl seemed to have countering him.  Penetrating the knot, he undid the belt, and reached for the sleeves.
	With a sharp tug, the cloth robe fell from Elizabeth’s body.  Jack felt himself involuntarily clench up as he beheld her naked form.  Even from behind the girl was a spectacle.  Her creamy skin was unblemished and unstressed.  Though her figure had been fully visible beneath the bathrobe, seeing it bare, in full, naked detail, added a spectacular extra layer of sensory stimulation.  Jack felt himself growing hotter and tighter within Elizabeth’s squishy vacuum.  He could feel her pelvis, which rubbed against the top of his shaft, growing hotter and wetter.  She leaked her own simmering juices over his rod and down her thighs, lubing the both of them.  Jack’s dick thrust back and forth through her Y-valley in faster and more dramatic movements.  Every push and pull brought his body slapping loudly against her humongous ass.  The soft, bulbous skin rippled and jiggled with every flesh-on-flesh impact, and yet retained a shocking amount of tautness after each brief tremor.
	Jack hammered his wet, torso-length dick between Elizabeth’s legs, using her wrists as handlebars.  Her ragged, belabored breaths seemed to echo through his head, driving him to go even harder.  His skin and nerves burned with intense arousal.  Every drop of juice from his tip felt like a supercharged eruption.  He needed more.  His cock needed more.  He needed this feeling more than he needed food or oxygen.  He needed to let it all out.
	It was coming.  His juices were converging, rising through him.  He couldn’t see past Elizabeth’s huge ass, but he knew he was swollen to bursting and shaded deep crimson.  His dick twitched and throbbed, bobbing tightly beyond the girl’s pressed thighs.
	And it started.  Jack moaned deeply as his thick fluids shot up his dick and burst from his urethra like speeding dam-waters.  At the same time, he felt a wet heat wash over the lower half of his shaft.  Elizabeth’s juices poured from her burning vagina like a faucet turned on full, rushing down both of their legs.  Jack’s ropes of fluid felt like a single, unending spurt, firing from his body in a supernova of ecstasy.  It came and came, like a loose firehose.  He couldn’t see where any of it was landing, but he didn’t care.  He needed this overblown sensation to last, to steal him.  Jack pulled on Elizabeth’s wrists, forcing his dick and his pearly arcs upward.  However, Elizabeth couldn’t keep her balance, and the two teetered backward.  Jack toppled onto his back, seeing only Elizabeth’s eclipsing ass descending upon him before there was darkness.
	Jack felt his cock still volleying its payload, plastering against Elizabeth’s stomach with every mighty throb.  His face was suctioned against her all-consuming ass, almost smothered.  Maybe he should have been worried, but instead, he felt himself strangely at ease.  His face was swaddled by her thick, warm buttocks, his body pinned by her cushioning weight.  Not knowing exactly what compelled him, he began slowly dragging his tongue against the babysitter’s lower valley.  He couldn’t see or hear, but he felt the sudden change in Elizabeth’s body.  Her muscles spasmed, goosebumps erupted across her skin.  Jack tasted her, a taste he hadn’t ever known, and hadn’t thought he would enjoy.  His tongue flicked against her, its very tip occasionally reaching what he knew was her anus.  Everything had a dank, unsavory flavor, but it seemed like there was nothing else he should have been doing.  He licked and licked, braving the unknown and touching more and more of her asshole until he finally passed the rim and touched the puckered center.
	At this, Jack felt yet another flood of burning fluid explode from Elizabeth onto his chest and stomach like a sticky shower.  His arms cradled the wide curves of her seated hips, embracing them with undetachable yearning.  Jack’s cock still squirted long bursts of his fluids, but he could tell it was winding down.  He could feel with his fingers the sheer amount of his splooge had caked Elizabeth’s nude body.  He felt proud in a way.  He realized he enjoyed knowing that the girl was covered in something he himself had produced.
	The boy and his babysitter were motionless besides their sexual trembles, stunned by the intensity of their encounter.  After some long moments, Elizabeth lifted her butt from Jack’s face and dropped to the floor above his head.  Jack’s spent dick peeled against his stomach, spongy and soggy.  Blurry daylight shone into the kitchen from the blinded window.  Summoning his energy, Jack sat up and turned toward Elizabeth.
	They were both drenched.  Elizabeth looked as if she’d had several bottles of glue explode onto her, smattering her from head to toe.  Looking down, Jack saw the sheen of Elizabeth’s fluids shining across much of his stomach and legs, to say nothing of his own pearly juice which coated the end-half of his dick like melted candle wax.
	Elizabeth panted, her face red as a strawberry.  Her overfilled udders twitched as they heaved against her ribs.  Milk beaded from her cherry-like nipples, dripping in thick droplets onto the floor.  Jack scooted forward, sliding nakedly across their combined slick of bodily juices, until his legs were bent over her tremendous thighs.  Hefting a massive breast with his small hand, the boy stuck his mouth over its distended nipple and sucked.
	Elizabeth moaned loudly as her milk gushed from her bloated pap.  Jack drank it all, slurping and running his tongue in circles around the spongy teat.  Her cream filled him with a haze, bringing him to a level of comfort unlike anything his parents had ever been able to provide.  He wanted to drink her forever—taste her forever.  As long as he had Elizabeth, everything would be wonderful.  Without easing his aggressive suction, Jack pulled himself from her nipple with a loud, wet smack, forcing yet another lustful cry from the girl’s hoarse throat.  Elizabeth’s fat tit slapped against her flat stomach, still spraying her milk as it bounced.  The babysitter had tears in her eyes.  Jack wrapped his arms around her waist, closing his eyes and holding himself against her.  It took a few moments, but he felt her arms wrap around him too.
	He wanted nothing more than this.
	"Oh, Jack," Elizabeth whispered.  "Look what we did."
	Jack opened his eyes and saw that Elizabeth was staring past him.  Turning his head, he immediately understood what she was talking about.  Beginning at the nearby counter and extending all the way across the kitchen and dining area was a virtual panorama of pearly ruin.  Jack slowly scanned from left to right.  First, he saw his mother’s rotating spice rack, knocked over and mired in his opaque fluids like a slimy, broken down carousel.  The miniature spice bottles were scattered across the counter, but were webbed motionless by the thick, whitish blots splattered all across the polished granite surface.  The entire stove was heavily dressed with his milky streamers, which hung in heavy, wobbling ropes over the burners.  Above this, the hanging pots and mixing spoons appeared all strung together by his juices, like a series of worn rope ladders, while the plexiglass and steel oven door beneath the stove bore its own whitish rorschach mural.  A couple of framed photographs off to the side had been squarely in the line of fire, and dripped with his cloudy seed.  Jack’s juices thickly slathered the counter to its edge, where it sluggishly cascaded to the floor.
	But it didn’t stop there.
	Several of the dining table’s wooden chairs were glazed with Jack’s spunk.  His barely-eaten bowl of cereal now swam in as much of his own fluids as it did actual milk.  Streaking and zig-zagging over the table banister, his juice next hit the center bowl of fruit, besmirching their waxy skins with cups of pearlescent boy-batter.  The carnage seemed to have hit its outer limit at the other end of the table, where the fluids tapered off into smaller, less-dispersed spots.
	Jack’s dick twitched with life as he took in the scene.  In a single, five-or-so-minute span, he had marked a room and a half with gallons of his own juice.  Why that was so arousing was unclear to him, but seeing it all, smelling its hanging musk, he felt a sublime confidence, just as he had when he’d coated Elizabeth with his milk.  His arousal was only begetting further arousal, and that didn’t bother him at all now.  Whereas last night he had been afraid and ashamed of his spectacular new endowment, he now found himself taking pride in his inexplicable transformation.  His penis was rising once more, already recovered from its juicy blitz.  It dragged roughly against Elizabeth’s smooth stomach, again snaking into its favorite spot between her thunderous tits.  A great bead of clear juice swelled out of his hot urethra, plastering the girl’s tremendous chest.  
	Jack looked the reddened babysitter directly in the eye.  "I don’t feel like resting today."Friday, 10:38am

	Elizabeth trembled, feeling the hot blushing of her skin.
	I don’t feel like resting today.
	What did that mean?  Was this boy now suggesting he wanted the two of them to have non-stop, uninhibited sex until Annelise got home?  Probably, she guessed.  After all, Jack seemed to have not had any hesitations in choosing to fuck her thighs without so much as a "please."
	It had truly been a sight, seeing that fat, gigantic knob pumping in and out between her thick, supple legs, rubbing up and down against her engorged clit.  The boy’s skin would bunch up round his apple-sized glans every time he pulled back, and each time, huge dollops of his gluey pre-ejaculate would be forced out.  As much as she tried, she couldn’t have forced her legs apart.  She'd needed Jack’s monster cock trapped where it was.  She'd needed him.
	Now, of course, she faced the immediate consequences of their encounter.  Jack’s unearthly orgasm had hosed down nearly two entire rooms with his overproduced semen.  On top of the bathroom he had already thoroughly painted with his juices, now Elizabeth would have to clean up the kitchen and dining room before the boy’s sister returned from school.
	Elizabeth’s breasts ached.  Her nipples twitched and pouted, strained by the tremendous build-up of milk in her distended udders.  She swore she could hear it sloshing inside of her.  It hurt.  She needed to let it out.
	Wrapping a hand around a bloated areola, Elizabeth gave her enormous tit a firm squeeze.  Thick jets of her milk showered forth, bursting from invisible ducts and causing the dark, porous skin to erupt with intense pleasure.  She bit her lip, trying to stifle her noises.  Her thick thighs trembled, and her stomach caved slightly.  An automatic hand fell to her womanhood, and began toying with her reinvigorated clit.
	Without warning, Jack’s lips sealed over her erupting nipple, and immediately the boy began sucking with powerful lust.  She felt the nipple expanding and pinching inside his oral vacuum, gushing her cream down his throat.  Elizabeth’s fingers slipped into her soaking pussy, massaging herself.  Jack made loud noises as he sucked.  He wasn’t letting up at all, pouring additional force into every hard gulp.  The boy’s beastly dick boiled against her bare skin, its unstopped juices overflowing onto her naked body.  His balls were massive and swollen near her lap.  Elizabeth could see them throbbing and growing very slowly, building up as Jack’s burning desire appeared to mount.  Both his hands clutched to her watermelon tit, grabbing against the fatty flesh, massaging greater, thicker quantities of milk out from inside of her.  Elizabeth’s juices poured against her pumping fingers, spilling onto the hardwood floor.
	Before she even realized what she was doing, the babysitter’s free hand flew to Jack’s mammoth cock.  The burning, rigid member was heavy against her palm, but she lifted it from her chest, and stared into its oozing, gurgling urethra.  Intoxicating aromas wafted into her nose.  Jack had her by the heart with just his scent.  All her logic and reason was suddenly replaced with the sole desire to drink from Jack's ungodly endowment.
	"You’re such a greedy boy," Elizabeth hushed, breathing against his twitching meat-hammer.  Licking tenderly round his mouth-like orifice, she wrapped her lips snugly over Jack’s swollen cap, nearly unhinging her jaw in her effort to get it all in.
	Jack’s face contorted as Elizabeth swallowed his immensity.  The beefy member sunk into her throat, gagging and choking her.  Salty wetness glued against her cheeks, teeth, and tongue, and dribbled heavily down her hoarse esophagus.  Elizabeth put what lingered of her energy into sucking Jack’s ferocious cock.  Her slurps echoed through the open kitchen, and the boy’s excessive pre-cum ran thickly from her lower lip, down her chin.  Milk flowed in gushing streams from her nipple, still being sucked away by Jack’s incredible force.
	More and more of Jack’s fluids ran into Elizabeth’s stomach as she drank from the boy.  It was salty and slimy, but it was all she wanted.  Her hands worked his vast length, fiercely pumping up and down, milking out his juices.  It came in thicker, heavier quantities.  She knew he was close.
	Jack released Elizabeth’s swollen pap, reeling back and gasping sharply.  His face was stressed and crimson.  He bore his teeth, barely able to cope with the clearly overwhelming sensation.
	Satisfaction glowed within the babysitter with the knowledge that she could wrap Jack around her finger as well—or rather, get him past her lips.  She popped his enormous boner from her mouth, her lips still strung to it by several sticky strands of his overflowing juices.  The rapid shck-shck-shck of her hands against the moist appendage reminded her suddenly that she’d need to find someplace convenient for Jack to unload his rich supply, preferably somewhere easily cleaned.  She could hardly slow her pace, squeezing and jerking his serpentine endowment, somehow needing his release as much as he did himself.  Her forceful strokes were bringing his preparatory fluids out in actual squirts rather than the usual ooze.
	Quickly coming up with a plan, Elizabeth rose to her knees and brought an arm around the boy, still working his shaft with the other.  Carefully guiding him, she stepped toward the cabinet below the sink and flung open one of the wooden doors.  She yanked out the trash bin, setting it before the boy and stepping behind him so that her bloated, perspiring milkers sandwiched his head and rested over his shoulders.  Her one hand kept up its work pleasuring his cock, while the other scooped one of his hanging, orange-sized testicles.  The wonderfully swollen ball throbbed in her palm, triggering sharp gasps from the boy.  Pointing his man-missile  into the bin, she started giving him longer, more dramatic strokes.  She leaned her mouth directly to his ear.
	"You can let it all out, Jack," she breathed.  "You’re so full of juice right now, you must be about to burst."
	Jack’s ragged breaths were strung closer and faster together.  His dick was at rock-hardness, thick as a loaf of bread at its widest, its ruby head like an overripe pear.  He was so wet, it sounded like Elizabeth was lathering him with soap.
	"It’s all right," Elizabeth continued, licking his ear.  "Don’t hold any of it back."
	A gurgle escaped Jack’s throat, and just like that, his orgasm began.
	His cum burst out of his huge penis in an awesome, milky cone, deluging into the empty bin with loud, heavy slops.  Elizabeth felt it expanding his already astonishing girth as it fired up his shaft in an unbroken flow.  The boy’s saved up seed positively gushed from his critically engorged tip, shaking his entire body as it exploded out of him.  He seemed to convulse in pleasure, completely swept by the sexual overdose.  The ball in Elizabeth’s hand throbbed violently with each rapid expulsion.  In seconds, Jack’s thick, musky semen had filled half of the bin.
	As Elizabeth watched Jack rapidly fill the tall container, her thick nipples bobbed with their own will.  Without any coaxing, her milk began sputtering and spraying from her tits, raining onto the floor.  Her moans intensified as twin orgasms exploded within her nipples.  Feeling her own cream squirt out of her massive, oversensitive tits was a sensation as incredible as her most intense vaginal climax.  Elizabeth wanted to grope herself, to squeeze more of it from her shaking, slapping udders, but she couldn’t let go of Jack’s enormous dick unless she wanted the boy to spray down the other half of the kitchen with coats of his young cum.  Such a mess might soon have been unavoidable though, as his unending supply of semen was quickly approaching the bin’s plastic rim.
	Elizabeth had only one choice now.  She kept one hand on his monster and scooped him up by the backs of his knees with her opposite arm.
	"Just changing positions," she said to him shakily, keeping his dick pointed at the bin until she had him lifted just right.
	Holding the boy above the kitchen sink, Elizabeth swiftly repositioned his exploding cock into the stainless basin, ignoring the fact that several plates and pots still sat inside.  Jack squirted his pearly quarts over the already-dirtied kitchenware, flooding it all in a milky swamp.  His orgasm erupted with such great force that as it struck the sink basin, it rolled back into the air in tall, impressive crests.  The drain choked on his thick seed, unable to filter it quickly enough.  As he had the trash bin, Jack was filling the entire kitchen sink with his boiling, bubbling juice.  
	Seeing his limitless seed plug up the drain was only making Elizabeth hotter.  Her immense thighs rubbed together wetly, trying to stoke her fire.  Milk still jetted from her blown-up nipples, sprinkling and leaving small ripples in Jack’s opaque sink-soup.  The dishes were swimming and sinking in his cum, which must have been almost ten inches deep in the two-and-a-half-by-two foot basin.  Elizabeth saw that the clogged drain had no hope of emptying Jack’s cum, and realized at the same time that at the rate the boy was going, the sink probably wouldn’t be able to hold it all.  The babysitter’s heartbeat raced through her head.
	Jack’s semen finally, incredibly, surpassed the sink’s rim, and began pooling over the edges like molasses.  It oozed and bubbled over the tiny counter-space, and the first drizzles began pouring over the edge.  The boy’s cucumber-thick stream still splashed into the pearly stew, and it took no time at all for it all to begin running off of the counter, slapping down to the ground in huge, wet torrents.
	The whole kitchen reeked of Jack’s semen.  The boy appeared delirious, completely zonked by the overpowering ecstasy.  His flow seemed to at last be losing its altitude, although the damage had clearly been done.  As Jack’s milky arc bent and shrunk, his cum in the sink slowed in its overflow.  His immense dick began to soften, dipping heavily into his deep, pearlescent reservoir before snailing out over the counter.  The drain still gurgled, and thick bubbles rose out of the musky brew.
	Elizabeth dropped to her knees, still clutching to Jack, and backed against the kitchen’s center island.  While Jack had his five-minute ejaculation, she’d had her own fair share of climaxes.  Finally releasing the boy’s smoldering shaft, she gingerly rubbed her sore, wet nipples.  Her milk trickled down the vast underslope of her breast and beaded against her soft flesh like fresh dew.  Her massive pair rose and fell as she panted, drifting down from her heavenly high.  Looking down at Jack, who sat against her stomach, still cushioned between her magnificent mammaries, Elizabeth could see his entirely flaccid, still gargantuan penis stuck to the floor by his thick glaze.  Small trickles yet left his softened tip, melting out into his flood.
	Jack’s hand brushed against the underside of her soft, glistening udder, pushing gently against its fleshy weight.  His other hand rolled against the floor, wiping against the pearly puddle between his legs and coming to a rest against his giant, floppy penis.
	"What is this?" the boy asked, lifting a strand of his fluids from the floor with his finger.
	Elizabeth cleared her throat, "It’s called semen."
	"Why is it coming out of me?"
	"Well," Elizabeth said, wrapping her arms comfortingly around Jack’s waist, "when boys reach a certain age, their bodies start to change.  Their bodies start producing semen so that, eventually, it can be passed on to a woman, and…"
	Elizabeth gulped as she realized she was giving Jack "the talk."  That was something you did not do to someone else’s child!  
	Then again, neither was sucking them off in the kitchen.
	"Um," Elizabeth stammered.  "When semen enters a woman’s body, uh, it often—um, little guys called sperm cells try to…hrm…"
	"Is that where sperm comes from?" Jack asked.  "My dad told me about that.  It makes a woman pregnant."
	Oh thank god.  Elizabeth sighed, glad she didn’t have to be the one to shatter Jack’s perception of the world.
	…Or was she?
	"Wait," Jack said, suddenly alarmed.  "You’re not gonna be pregnant, are you?"
	"No," Elizabeth blushed.  "No, for that to happen, your…semen…has to go…in…"
	Jack stared up at her from between her cushioning tits, perplexed.  His naked young body peeled against hers, the both of them thoroughly glazed with his drying seed.
	"But a lot of it went into your mouth!" Jack exclaimed.  "Won’t that—"
	"No," Elizabeth soothed, running her fingers through the boy’s hair.  "To get a girl pregnant, it has to go…in her vagina."
	Jack looked thoughtful for a moment.  "But there’s milk coming out of you.  Doesn’t that mean—"
	Elizabeth grinned, giving the boy’s scalp a ruffle.  "It’s fine, Jack, they were doing that before...we had our fun.  But, you’re very sweet for worrying."
	Jack’s hand still felt around Elizabeth’s heavy breast.  It slid up and over her puffy nipple, still sticky with her milk.  Goosebumps rose across her pale skin.  Every touch brought the girl small shocks of pleasure, putting small spasms through her body.  She wrapped her thick, shapely thighs around Jack’s sides.
	"It feels good…" Jack murmured.  "Really good…especially when it’s with you."
	Elizabeth gave the boy a squeeze with her curvaceous body.  "I know, Jack.  You’ve made me feel the same way."
	Examining the kitchen, the babysitter sighed in dejection.  As truly amazing as all of it had been, their explosive escapade had left the kitchen and dining room a sticky, sopping mess.  Jack’s seed was thoroughly painted across the cabinets and furniture, mostly dried, but all quite clearly visible.  Annelise would be home from school in about four hours, meaning Elizabeth had that long to get everything cleaned up, which would have to include draining the sink.  All that was to say nothing about herself or Jack, who both wore coats of the boy’s cum.
	"Jack," Elizabeth said.  "Let’s get cleaned up.  Why don’t we get in the shower?"
	Elizabeth had no idea where that idea came from, but suddenly her conscience wasn’t doing so much nagging.  She saw a definite twitch in Jack’s penis, and was quietly astonished at the young boy’s superhuman stamina.  He had said he didn’t want to rest, she supposed.
	"Together?" Jack asked.
	"Why don’t we?" She said.  "We’re both messy because of you, aren’t we?"
	Jack went red, but nodded his careful acquiescence.  His hand dropped from her tit, and he wobbled to his feet.  Elizabeth watched, entranced, as his enormous, lemon-sized balls and boa-like dick dangled heavily between his skinny legs, an astonishing package that would have been gigantic on a grown man, let alone a pre-teenaged boy.  Lifting her enormous, pert ass from the sticky wood floor, she followed after Jack through the soaked dining room, her wide hips swaying dramatically and her round, heavy breasts slapping together with each step.  She felt her milk building in her chest, exerting great pressure against the insides of her nipples.  At any moment, she was afraid, it may come bursting out of her—not that she would have minded, though.  Every milky letdown sent riveting, ecstatic waves through her enhanced body, and Elizabeth knew she was secretly looking forward to having herself milked once again.  Tingles danced down her spine and into her still slightly damp womanhood.
	Elizabeth was a step behind Jack as he turned into the very same bathroom in which they'd shared their first encounter the night before.  Looking around, she saw that the large, dry splotches of Jack's cum were indeed still there, as if she'd expected them to miraculously vanish overnight.  Both her and Jack's respective growths had been mysterious enough, so she didn't feel too bad about getting her hopes up.  Not bothering to close the door behind them, Elizabeth set a foot inside the large bathtub.
	"Come on in," she said, shifting her bodacious hips and extending a slight hand to the boy.
	Jack shyly wrapped his fingers around hers.  Elizabeth tried not to chuckle, seeing such bashfulness in the boy who'd less than an hour ago force-fucked her between the thighs.  Good that she had the upper hand, she guessed.  Reining the boy into the tub, she whisked the bath curtain closed and stared down at him through her fleshy gorge.  Jack still wore an apprehensive expression.  Setting her soft hands on his shoulders, Elizabeth beckoned roughly to his height.
	"Jack," she smiled, "I want you to feel that you can trust me."
	Jack's dick flexed, and began its slow ascent.  He looked her in the eye with a newfound confidence.
	"I do." He said.
	Beaming, Elizabeth reached back for the shower faucet and gave it a turn.  Cold water cascaded from the shower head, icily spraying Elizabeth's bare back.  Withholding her yelp, she weathered the frigid burst with a body-length shiver, letting her endowments jiggle and bounce freely.  Her nipples swelled to eraser hardness, emitting short puffs of her welling cream.  The stream began to warm, but Elizabeth's body still reeled in the chilly shock.  
	Perhaps noticing the sudden firmness of Elizabeth's body, Jack brought his hands to either side of her swollen chest, squeezing her tensed, heavy tits together.  Further gouts of milk squirted onto the boy's face and chest, but he clearly didn't seem to mind.  He kept pressing her jugs until her puffy nips were rubbing against one another.  Elizabeth couldn't keep down her moan as flesh met sensitive flesh.  Her milk spurted wildly, flecking Jack's cheeks with white droplets.
	Thrusting his face forward, Jack stuffed both her bloated, wet nipples into his mouth and started sucking.  Elizabeth tossed her head back, wetting her short hair in the shower stream and losing herself in the fantastic pleasures of having her milk squeezed out of her by the boy's mouth.  She could feel Jack's thick, slick cock sliding up the line of her toned stomach, rolling over her navel, climbing up until it nestled against her squished under-bust.  The beastly rod so badly wanted in.  Elizabeth placed her hands over Jack’s, mashing her tits even further, preventing him from sliding into her cleavage.  She wondered how he’d respond to some teasing.  
	With a loud smooch, Jack’s lips released her overworked paps.  He looked up at her, flushed red.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t quite have the courage to let it out.
	"What’s the matter, sweetie?" Elizabeth asked with syrupy softness.  "Are you feeling frustrated?"
	Jack frowned, looking a bit hurt.  Elizabeth gave him a consoling grin.
	"I know you want to put it between my…" she ran her hands deeply across her enormous tits, groping and pinching herself in front of the hungry-eyed boy, "…giant boobs."
	Jack nodded, still transfixed on her bountiful dairy-domes.  The shower was pouring across her outstanding chest, waterfalling against her stomach and Jack’s upright cock.
	"Well, if you want that," she said, "I want something from you first."
	"What is it?" Jack rasped, still raspberry-red.
	Elizabeth took the body sponge that hung from a silver, wall-mounted hook, and wedged it between the base of Jack’s steel rod and his stomach.
	"You made me dirty," she said, turning her absurdly enormous ass to him and settling onto her hands and knees.  "Now, you get to wash my body clean."
	Jack’s young face looked like a tomato, though his excitement was betrayed by the thick, glassy dollop of fluid that dribbled from his screaming dick onto the dimple above her butt.  He reached for a nearby bottle, popping it open with his thumb and squirting it onto the sponge.  Elizabeth smirked as he did, pleased with the boy’s adorable earnestness.  Jack wobbled into a squat, his hot penis resting against Elizabeth’s ass crack, and pressed the sponge against her back.
	Elizabeth sighed as the cool bodywash lathered across her skin with Jack’s slow scrubs.  He left streaks of flowery-scented suds across her back and shoulders before wringing the sponge above her big, toned ass.  Then, instead of the fluffiness of the sponge, she felt Jack’s soapy hands land on her meaty buttocks and begin to massage its plush smoothness.  Small sounds left her slightly-parted lips as he rubbed her enormous rear, exploring its unblemished vastness, feeling, groping.  Her pussy throbbed, tingling madly each time Jack took a handful of supple ass flesh.  She loved him feeling up her juicy posterior, his hands hardly inhibited.  Elizabeth’s fingers slipped between her thick thighs to her burning womanhood.
	Without warning, Jack’s sudsy hands slipped into her cleft, rubbing between her massive buttocks.  A ragged gasp gusted out of Elizabeth’s lungs.  Jack was touching her in such a lewd, unspeakable place, she thought, ghosts of her senses suddenly glowing before her.  She blinked away her reservations, reminding herself how far they’d already gone with all this, ready to lose herself in the steamy, lustful tides.
	Jack’s fingertips brushed round the wrinkled, sensitive rim of her anus.  Flashbacks of him with his face buried in her ass, licking her most private parts.  She still had trouble believing that had actually happened—that Jack had willfully lapped around her rectum.  He may have lacked some skill, but her body was so sensitive now that even Jack's untrained tongue had brought her to a spine-bending climax.  She felt like she was on the verge, feeling that same harrowing tingle resonate through her loins, and the sharp, involuntary flexing of her thigh and butt muscles as Jack revisited her deeper territories.
	The boy at last pushed her boundary, wiggling a lathered knuckle into her rectum.  His small digit pressed and rubbed against her tensed walls, sliding in until it could go no deeper.  Elizabeth’s breaths were loud and forced.  Her cheeks burned red and her body seized in time with Jack’s slightest finger movements.  She slipped her fingers into her desperate pussy, and with her other hand clutched a glistening tit.  Milk dripped from both her fat nipples, diluted in the bathwater as they were sucked into the drain.  Giving herself a squeeze, she let forth a series of long, thick arcs of her nectar, streaking down the steam-coated tile walls.  She felt Jack stretch her further as he worked another finger into her ass.
	Finally, some component of her psyche hit its bursting point, and Elizabeth became fully aware that she could hold out no longer.  Letting her slick, heavy tit roll out of her palm and slap against her stomach, Elizabeth pulled herself from Jack’s exploring fingers, shuddering as they rubbed out of her tingling rectum.  She rose to her feet and spun back around, placing firm hands on Jack’s shoulders and guiding him down into a seated position.  His nearly foot-and-a-half-long cock looked ready to explode, pointed almost vertical from his building pressure, and his balls had plumped to the size of ripened pummelos, forcing him to keep his legs spread wide.  She laid Jack against the back of the tub and stood over him with a foot by either of his hips.  Though he was almost completely eclipsed by her billowing mountains, she could see the anxiety written into his rosy face.
	Time to really blow his mind, Elizabeth thought.
	"Okay, Jack, listen carefully," she said, steadying herself against the wall.  "I need your fat, enormous dick inside of me.  Understand?"
	Jack said nothing, but an ooze of pre-ejaculate wept from his critically engorged tip, rolling thickly down his darkened shaft.
	"All you have to do is lay still while I move on top of you," Elizabeth continued.  "Are you with me?"
	Jack made a throaty noise.  "But you said that would make you pregnant…"
	"I can deal with that once we’re done," she comforted.  "This’ll feel very good for both of us…okay?"
	Jack was motionless and silent for a beat, but gave her a consenting nod.
	"Good boy," Elizabeth whispered.  She placed her palm over his oozing, mushroom-head cap, smearing his juices over his knob.  Her other hand dropped to her pussy, its fingers keeping her labia apart as her wide hips and immensely juicy thighs hovered over the boy’s monster cock.    She could feel her clit pounding, awaiting what was to come.  Lowering her pelvis, she rested her expectant womanhood over his over-swollen glans.
	Elizabeth gave a small groan as she felt Jack’s freakish mass pushing against her, mashing against her wet loins.  Could she even fit him in?
	Yes, she told herself.  Yes, she had to.
	Ignoring all improbabilities, Elizabeth carefully relaxed herself, and very slowly found herself shifting down the boy’s inconceivable length.  Whatever sharp screams or deep moans might have burst from her lungs didn’t make it out.  Jack’s penis, like an arm and a fist, squeezed into her, pushing her to incredible new limits, charging her nerves like a nuclear dynamo.  It stretched and forced and hurt, but Elizabeth took it, because it was pleasure she’d never even dreamed of.
	Already, she was cumming.  Her inner walls squelched against the monolithic ramrod, flexing and firing intense, orgasmic waves all the way to her head and toes.  As she gasped up water-laden oxygen, her watermelon-udders jiggled remarkably, jumping over her hardened body like a pair of jellyfish in a rolling tide.  Her immense ass clenched and wobbled, its muscles absorbing much of the pyrotechnic euphoria bursting from her pussy.
	At last, Jack’s soaked, peachy cockhead touched the end of her canal.  Through the bitter tears in her eyes, Elizabeth saw Jack’s face, wildly contorted and purplish.  He seemed to wheeze for breath, struggling between choosing to breathe and choosing to give himself to Elizabeth.  His hands were around his angry, magnificently bloated testes.  Poor boy, Elizabeth managed to think to herself.  He must have been in agony.
	She’d set that right.
	Fastening her hands around the silver rack above Jack’s head, Elizabeth rose out of her pierced squat, just as slowly lifting herself on hugely flexed thighs up the boy’s weapons-grade mast.  Both their juices ran from her outstretched pussy in thick globs, pooling round Jack’s fiercely-enlarged balls.  She rose and rose, until the rim of his glans resisted her.  Jack looked to be on the verge of sobbing.
	Elizabeth softly shushed him, drawing his eyes up.  "I’ll start going a bit faster now.  Just trust me, Jack."
	And she did.  Still supporting herself by the metal bar, she worked her tremendous hips down, until he bottomed out, and then up, until he wouldn’t pull out any further.  Elizabeth kept her pace going, trying not to collapse from the sheer ecstasy pounding through her.  As her boobs bounced, her milk squirted in waving streams, spotting across Jack’s hairless torso.  She knew that if she’d give herself a squeeze, it would positively explode out of her in a pearly shower of warm, sweet-scented bliss, but she hadn’t the equilibrium to risk letting go of the bar.  Up and down she went, crying out her voiceless cries as Jack’s beast wrung her out.  Their flesh smacked with each thrust, echoing through the rush of running water.
	"Ohhhh!" Jack wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks.  He still clutched his balls, which were approaching an almost plum shade.  Elizabeth gasped, unable to make any other sound as she bounced herself on top of the titanic member between them.  Water and sweat covered them both, and Elizabeth could see their unending flow of juices still running out of her.  A sudden flex of Jack’s cock stunned her, turning her body hot and her sweat cold.
	He was close.
	Another mighty throb, and Elizabeth was covered in goosebumps.  Her voluptuous, jiggling figure settled as she froze mid-squat.  Cautiously directing her gaze down at their joining, she felt her insides flutter as she saw massively thick globs of gluey, pearly goo bubbling and drooling out of her pried pussy.
	It was happening.
	Instantly, a third, even more incredibly powerful pulse of Jack’s cock filled Elizabeth with an almost inarticulate sensation.  Arching her back and opening her mouth, she hit another magnificent, pounding climax as she felt a boiling pipe-load of Jack’s cum furiously erupt within her, geysering against her insides, rapidly filling the small gap between his tip and her womb.  Fantastic warmth gushed into her sealed space, swelling and churning.  Jack looked close to hyperventilation as he came explosively, battering Elizabeth with his copious, gooey torrents.  The babysitter could feel his juice welling up beneath her belly, forceful enough that she could hear it squishing around within her madly-throbbing walls.  Elizabeth felt herself rising, being pushed from Jack's gigantic cock not by any force of her own, but by the overwhelming caliber of the boy's unrelenting ejaculation.
	With a loud pop like a cracked champagne bottle, Jack's hot, milky jets shot Elizabeth free of his rampant penis, showering the girl's front with huge gouts of his spewing seed as she fell.  Elizabeth landed on her plush rear with a wet smack, wailing erotically as she felt ounces of Jack's semen squirting and melting out of her climaxed womanhood.  Jack came like a volcano, squirting his cum into the air in hose-like streams, which webbed into pearly starbursts that splattered over Elizabeth, the bath edges, and the drawn curtain.  As quart after quart of burning man-juice slapped onto the babysitter's naked, jiggling body, the shower was having trouble keeping her clean.  Jack's overflowing cum curdled in the water, not washing away quickly enough before the next volley splashed onto Elizabeth's face, tits, and stomach, and the next, and the next.
 	Elizabeth squirmed in multiple orgasmic aftershocks as her vagina slowly retracted to its former tightness, still quivering at the very thought of having been plugged up by Jack's enormity.  His stickiness remained within her, and yet she felt little compulsion to wash it out.  It was so warm, so...comforting to have it inside of her.  Her fingers unconsciously stroked her sore clit, sending extra jolts down her bent, shapely legs and into her curled toes.  She took a swollen, cum-caked breast in her hand and stuck its throbbing nub into her mouth.  She sucked and licked, swallowing her sweet milk and Jack's salty cum in great gulps.  As she sucked, crackling ecstasy burned in her swallowed nipple, sweeping from her swollen chest into her overloaded mound.
	Jack came and came, offering no sign that he was even remotely close to finishing.  Giant, drowning arcs shot and fell, plastering Elizabeth's body.  Aiming her ruby eyes at the blissed-out boy, nipple still planted in her lips, she pressed a trembling, glazed-white foot against his meaty, spurting trunk.  Jack recoiled as ropes of his own semen jetted into his face and open mouth.  He coughed and gagged, coating himself in a matter of seconds before Elizabeth relinquished his shaft.  Chuckling at Jack as he rubbed his sticky face against his arm, the babysitter mustered her strength hoisted herself into a crawl.
	Elizabeth carried herself on her elbows and knees up to Jack.  She bowed her shoulders, cushioning herself with her pancaked breasts and brushing her soft, pink lips against one of his swollen balls.  Jack took in a sharp breath as she nipped gently against his bloated love plum, trailing the tip of her tongue against his salty skin, drinking in his musk and breathing it back onto his tender jewels.  His cum fell in smaller waves, surging briefly with each soft smooch Elizabeth planted on his throbbing testes.
	At last, Jack wound down.  His gallons of freshly spent seed pooled thickly around him and Elizabeth, gurgling in the drain as it tried to choke it down.  Elizabeth padded up the tub, bearing over Jack's writhing body, her heavy udders dragging across his hot skin and over his receding cock.  She positioned herself above his face, which was still dirtied with his own cum.  Jack huffed deeply, barely lucid, drunk off of his hyper-stimulation.  Nudging her nose against his, Elizabeth licked around her lips before setting her wet tongue against his cheek and licking up a splotch of his rich, sticky juice.  Jack blushed and withdrew as Elizabeth let his seed trickle across her tastebuds and into her throat, savoring its musky flavor.  Swallowing it down, she went back for him, eating up another glob of Jack’s cum, then another, and another, until nearly all of it was off of his face.
	Then, pushing her giant chest against the boy’s much smaller body, Elizabeth planted her lips against his and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.  Her tongue darted into his mouth, trailing against his.  Jack was clearly taken by surprise, and mustn’t have had any idea of what to do.  At first, he was frozen, but after a few seconds of learning Elizabeth’s movements, feeling the circling pattern of her tongue, he gingerly reciprocated, returning each of the girl's kisses with smaller ones of his own.  Their tongues danced and their lips smacked.  Elizabeth was adrift in soothing, happy emotion.  Jack was all she wanted, and now she had him.
	Could Jack possibly feel the same way?
	Elizabeth broke their kiss, and their watery eyes aligned.
	"Jack," she whispered, "I want to be here for you.  Whenever you feel…frustrated or ready to explode from all the semen inside of you, I want to be there to help you."
	She ran her hand against his flushed cheek.
	"I’ll be all yours."
	Her lips slowly returned to Jack’s.  They smooched and licked and nibbled one another, and behind Elizabeth's closed eyes, a heavy fog was setting in.  She could no longer feel even the shower on her back over the intoxicating scrumptiousness of their kiss.  It was all that mattered.  As long as she had Jack, it would all be all right.

	Beneath the swirling mist and the frothing, iridescent ether, the image of the boy and his babysitter unfolded in front of Diana.  The toned, bat-winged woman paced around the marble bowl, tracing a thick finger along its polished rim.  Standing across from her was her mother, the "Headmistress," and Mistress Agru, their stoic liaison with the Faeon private military sector.
	Agru wore the same black geometric cut as her subordinates, but kept it much shorter, only about to her chin.  Her opal armor didn't look much heftier than the bikini variety donned by the guardswomen, but included an actual codpiece that shielded her pelvis.  Diana had been rather disappointed when she was first introduced to the Mistress, having fully expected to behold a prime cut of Faeon beef, only to have it shuttered by a few inches of armor.  Still, Agru had wild hips, so flared that her physique resembled the end-third of a dipped ink brush.  Diana silently giggled as she imagined what the muscle bound lady might do to her if she gave that big bottom a nice, firm pinch—
	"Extraordinary," Athenon murmured, rapping a bony knuckle against the vessel, "for a boy so young to perform with such energy."
	Diana shifted her buxom hips, feeling the heavy tip of her dick brush against the side of her knee.  "How pleasantly unusual to receive such a compliment from you, mother."
	"There is more yet to be seen, of course," Athenon added.  "We don't know if they'll break this interpersonal bond to find other mates.  These two seem as much enamored with one another as they are aroused."
	"I have a feeling an opportunity will present itself," Diana murmured, beating her wings and pushing her thighs against the bowl’s edge.  "My spell should soon have them humping anything with a moderately advanced degree of intelligence."
	Athenon scowled as Diana sneered.  Diana knew how deeply her mother disapproved of her obscene, twisted attitude; that was exactly what made it worth having.  But the old lady needed her help now, in the form of her grossly uninhibited sexual philosophies.  Athenon knew her half-breed daughter could do the dirty work that no sane or trustworthy Fairy would ever do.  Diana felt a prideful throb hit through her thick member.
	"Waste of time with these children," Agru grunted in her dim-yet-dictatorial bass.  "You took private forces, why not set upon these Humans by arming my women your magic?"
	Agru was certainly the most talkative of the Faeons with whom Diana had interacted, but the woman still operated at a pace far too slow to properly appreciate their work.  Like every other black-haired, leather-winged beauty that had shown up in her mother’s compound these past days, the Mistress was, at best, a piece of delectable-looking meat, who just happened to possess the sort of military authority Athenon was looking for.
	"These children hardly represent a waste of time, milady," Diana said, cradling her bust in her folded arms.  "In fact, they are presently of greater use to us than any adult pair we might have examined.  We now know with certainty that the spell we have engineered is capable of triggering the desired degree of arousal even in a host with a considerably less-developed sex drive than a grown individual."
	"Lots of talk," Agru growled, clenching her hammy fists, "little action."
	Diana shook her head.  "Some of our problems can’t be solved with your balls-out approach, Agru."
	Agru angrily turned her back, and Diana felt her brow rise and her smirk widen.  The Faeon woman inadvertently offered her a stunning view of her immense, muscle-packed ass, whose toned bubble-cheeks simply swallowed the skimpy loin-guard that was strained across her tremendous hips.  Unfortunately, even Diana knew this wasn’t the right time to grow an enormous boner.
	It might upset the politics.
	"Keep me informed of their actions," Athenon commanded, backing from the bowl.  "I’d be happy if they showed some sort of progress—"
	Diana’s mother was interrupted as the gilded double doors flung open.  Through the towering arch, a lone Faeon soldier, bundled in her wings, marched into their chamber, double-timing toward Agru.  Diana cocked an eyebrow, unable to stifle out the fantasy of getting into a nice, cozy bed with the both of them.  The pink-haired woman wrapped her wings round her body as her cock thumped to life, lifting sluggishly into the air.
	"What news?" Agru barked, seizing the woman by the jaw.  The lesser Faeon hardly seemed fazed by the other woman's roughness.
	The fantastically sculpted women gazed into each other's sable eyes for a few tense moments, until Agru quite suddenly shoved the guard away.
	Agru flung her sights on Athenon, "Prisoners have escaped.  Took handstaffs and overpowered guards."
	Athenon shot Diana a nasty look, "Any idea how such a thing might have happened?"
	Diana shrugged, her fingers tracing the base of the slightly plumped shaft beneath her wings.  "Clara is a smart girl, as of course is Doctor DeAmos."
	The Headmistress would have been livid if she knew Diana had given her private guard free access to their prisoners.  She'd merely surmised that having two considerably attractive toys at their disposal could only be good for the troops' morale.  It disappointed her to think what might become of the hapless guards if her mother and Agru discovered the truth.
	At the very least, Diana didn't imagine the guards in question were in any sort of distress; the handstaffs used against them carried spellstones infused with a much quicker, far more potent variant of the same charm she'd used on Jack and Elizabeth.  Any victim would be brought to their knees by a crippling storm of hyper-erotic overstimulation and rapid erogenous enhancement.
	Diana only wished she could have seen her engineering in action.
	Athenon threw Agru a small glance.  "Find them."
	Agru faced the door, flexing her massive wings as she stomped away.  Diana could only bite her lip as the woman's phenomenal ass rolled and flexed with each step.  The pressure in her dick built and built, nearly tenting the webbing of her wings.
	Athenon also turned, without another word, and followed after the titanic Faeon.
	Alone, Diana fanned her wings.  The solid slab between her meaty thighs flung against her stony abs with a dull slap, dribbling a long stream of pre-ejaculate onto the tile flooring.  Her hungry hands fastened around her warm girth, squeezing along its incredible length.  Small gasps puffed past Diana's parted lips as she gruelingly milked her juice out in rippling squirts.  This was what she lived for.  Blame it on the Imp in her, she thought, but she believed that the single greatest thing in all the worlds was hitting one's own climax, and why live a life where you didn't  aim for the greatest?
	The dark-skinned woman thrust her hips powerfully against the cool, marble vessel, dipping her big dick into the swirling brew.  Elizabeth, she saw beneath the foam, was washing Jack's naked, cum-frosted body, scrubbing him clean, rubbing her fat tits and tight pelvis against him—
	Diana grunted as her dam burst, and her cum exploded into the ether, unfurling in a creamy plume and clouding out the picture of Jack and Elizabeth.  She pumped herself furiously, squirting stream after stream of her thick seed into the enchanted brew.  The sharp pleasure jolted through her packed muscles.  She felt her ass bounce with every ecstatic ejaculation.  Having a huge, overactive penis was one of Diana's new favorite things.  Her former womanhood had been a joy all of its own, but the newly-made Faeon was finding the masculine genitalia to be far more straightforward in its use.  She had, of course, gotten to know her vagina quite well, but even still, masturbating required a degree of precision in order to rise to its fullest potential.  But this monster of a penis was quite something else.  Its very length and form demanded a much harsher, much rougher type of stimulation.  Pumping herself with both hands had become a very convenient outlet for her ever-boiling sexual aggressions.
	She loved it.
	Squeezing the last of her backed-up cum from her fat, sturdy sausage, Diana stared glaze-eyed into the ether.  Her milky semen tendriled and choked the image of the Humans as they climbed out of the bath, not bothering to cover themselves with their towels.
	She so envied them.  They would be the foundation for a new world in which pain and suffering wouldn't exist, in which it would become acceptable to give in to their lust and seek stimulation without fear of consequence.  Jack and Elizabeth, like the Humans' proverbial Adam and Eve, had a lot of pleasant work ahead of them.
	Trailing the wet tip of her spongy dick against the saucer's lip, Diana touched the gemstone laid into her metal collar.
	"Fyr," she spoke, "Our friends may be headed for you.  We're moving to phase two."
	The gem gained a respiring shine as a rainy-sounding voice responded.
	"Understood.  Which first?"
	Diana put a fingernail to her chin, catching the boy and his sitter as they exited the bathroom.  A salacious smile rolled across her face.
	"The girl."The Impish Charm

	Clara's frightened heart resounded in her chest.  She bounded after Lysyria on the balls of her feet.  Both her hands were firmly fixed around the curved handstaff, poising the short rod at her chest level.  The busty woman of her seemed to be keeping a cool enough head, considering they were on the lam from who knew how many better-equipped Faeon guards.  Luckily, the building's corridors had so far been vacant.  Clara wished privately that things would continue to go so smoothly.
	"The next left," Lysyria hissed, indicating with a nod the quad-junction several yards down.  Both Fairy women veered toward the side wall.
	Something ailed Clara.  She'd felt it since the Netherrealm, since Diana and the Headmistress had revealed their true intent.
	Specifically, Clara thought, it began around the time Diana forced herself upon her…when she'd shoved her mammoth cock down her throat.
 	It was a growing malaise, intruding upon her sense of right and reason.  As it gestated within her, it seemed to frequently envelop her consciousness, altering her perceptions of the people around her.  Right now, it was driving her attention onto Lysyria, to her body in motion.  Clara found herself noticing every small nuance in the woman's movements.  Lysyria's fit, sweetly-curved legs sprinted in perfect, rapid coordination, each swift stride rotating and rolling her modestly-shapely hips.  It was something of a relief to see a woman with a hip measurement considerably smaller than Diana's preposterous circumference.
	But then there were the tits.
	Lysyria’s bountiful chest bounced and jiggled with bewildering tautness as she hurried down the hallway.  Past the woman’s turned, toned back, her hefty breasts swayed up and down and side-to-side.  Had they not been sprinting, and if Clara had been closer behind, she was sure she’d have been able to hear them slapping softly against one another.
	That foreign presence which clawed from the inside against Clara’s psyche purred excitedly within her loins.  Tickling emanations danced along her thighs, spiking for the briefest of seconds if they happened to rub together.  The blue-haired girl’s breaths felt harsh and heavy, even though she could run much farther.  Her sights were irrevocably drawn to Lysyria’s nakedness, to the curling green tattoos climbing her slender curves.  Clara had grown up all her life in this world, and hadn’t once found it odd or even slightly thought-provoking that clothing was worn only by a few, and that everyone else went about nude.  It had been as natural a concept to her as anything.
	But now, as she hosted this unnamed affliction—
	“Hold on,” Lysyria halted her.  They pressed to the wall, mere footsteps from the intersection.  Clara’s hip bumped against the other woman’s strong thigh, sending a tiny gasp up Clara’s throat as her hot skin met Lysyria’s much cooler body.
	Lysyria’s head edged around the corner, darting backward to face Clara.
	“There are two guards in the middle of the corridor,” the woman whispered.  “I’ll get the one on the right, you on the left.  On me.”
	Clara nodded wordlessly, praying Lysyria didn’t notice her eyes couldn’t climb any higher than the woman’s collarbone.  The minty scent of the Professor’s raven, ponytailed hair floated around the girl’s nostrils.  She saw Lysyria stir, and then lunge into the open.  Shaking herself, Clara threw herself forward, crouching around the corner and aiming the handstaff with both hands at the Faeon several yards down.  Lysyria’s bolt struck its target, toppling the guard onto her thick rear, putting her into a howling fit.  Just as the opposite guard’s hand closed over its holstered staff, Clara fired a shimmering charge of her own into the black-haired, scantily-armored amazonian.
	As before, both Faeons were rapidly seized by quickened gasps and unstifled moans.  Their hewn bodies flexed and spasmed, while their freely-displayed dicks flew to hard attention.  Clara inched further into the hallway, transfixed on the women’s reddening, swelling shafts.  Their endowments blew up angrily, growing beyond their limits, fattening to proportions unrealistic even for Faeon anatomy.  The squiggling veins that snaked up their bloated lengths throbbed fuller and fuller.  Their mushroom heads flared and purpled, watering with their tapped pre-ejaculate.
	“Just to the end of this hall, Clara,” Lysyria said, grabbing her by the shoulder.  Her voice wavered in and out of clarity.
	Clara could not avert herself from the Faeons before them, who wailed deep, congested cries as their cocks pumped past the two-foot mark, as their balls filled almost to bursting at the size of ripe cantaloupes.  The girl’s lips parted, awed as beyond any sort of control, the reclined, bodacious women almost simultaneously exploded in orgasm.  Their ballooned members throbbed mightily, hurling immediate gallons of thick, milky semen toward the ceiling.  Clara could hear it sputtering from their gorged urethras, ringing in her ears as it smacked all over the floor and each other.  Hypnotic richness fogged into the girl’s nose, begging her closer, closer to the gushing Faeon women, who laid convulsing in their own sheeny plasters.
	“Clara!”
	Another step closer.  Another.  Clara’s creamy thighs crossed gently as each five of toes touched the cold, polished tile.
	“Clara, around!”
	Was that Lysyria?  It didn’t sound like her.  Lysyria sounded…higher…
	“What are you doing!”
	Suddenly, Clara’s periphery was choking in, contracting in a black haze around her vision.  Pouring cum rained from the heavens, torrenting into the massive, gooey pool spilling across the floor.  One of her knees buckled, lurching her forward onto her elbows.  No adequate ounce of strength flowed through her to get her back onto her feet.  Clara crawled, forcing herself on.  Something in the Faeons’ aroma had her.  It called for the animal, the essence she now housed.  Two forces, reaching for one another, leashed her to the fountains of uncurbed seed.
	Everything…was so heavy…
	The side of her loosely clumped fist beat into the hot, pearly mess.  Taking her first breath in what felt like all of a minute, she lost her support, stomaching onto the tile.
	She wasn’t there yet.  Her fingers crept, her body fired every last drop of energy, desperate to immerse her in the thickly-scented waves of this pair of women.  It couldn’t be wasted.
	It couldn’t…be…wasted.

	“Clara?”
	Clara felt her brow twitch, her temples throb.  Her eyes were shut, squinted.
	“She’s waking.”
	Feeling something like velvet brush beneath her fingertips, Clara’s tangibility came running back.  She was laying down on a cushioned surface, head on a pillow.  The smell…the musk of the Faeons was absent.  Instead, she smelled a fireplace—heard it too, crackling and blowing in a soothing way.
	Unsticking her eyelids, Clara fluttered awake.  Colors stained her senses, hardening and sharpening into acuity.  She became aware that a damp cloth rested on her forehead, prompting her hand upward.  Her shoulders ached, but she tried to left herself against her elbows.
	“No,” a voice whispered as a pair of hands set against her collar.  “Lay still.”
	Lysyria.  Clara made a small croak as the shadowed woman lowered her back and removed the cloth from her brow.  Faintly, she felt the soft fullness of the Professor’s breasts brush against her side, yet her body had such an ache that she could feel little arousal.
	In fact, she felt none at all.
	Clara wrestled to speak.  “Where…?”
	Lysyria dipped the cloth into something, and wrung it with a sharp twist.  “A safehouse…for now, that is.”
	Above the ashen scent of the nearby fire, Clara thought she smelled baking.  The room she and Lysyria were in was only dimly lit by firelight, and was colored very warm, very dark shades of brown and red.  Turning her head, she realized she was on a plush, burgundy sofa, and looking down, saw that she was blanketed with a number of quilts.  Whoever’s “safehouse” this was certainly had a cozy sense of decoration.
	A sharp inhale flew up Clara’s nose as Lysyria reset the cold cloth against her head.
	“Sorry,” Lysyria murmured.  “We had a look at you while you were out.”
	Clara felt herself blush.  “A look?”
	Lysyria nodded, keeping a soft hand against the rolled-up towel.  “At your neurological wave-patterns, specifically.”
	Resting her hands on her stomach, Clara listened.
	“Obviously something was wrong back there,” Lysyria continued, her expression quite serious.  “We discovered that your waves were…subdued would be the best wave to describe it.”
	“I was unconscious, wasn’t I?” Clara mumbled.
	“You were, yes,” the young-looking Professor affirmed.  “But there was evidence of something else in your system, influencing you in a manner inhibiting your senses.”
	Clara grimaced.  Must have been whatever Diana had given her.
	“A very potent pheromone has entered your system, Clara,” Lysyria said.  “I’m not sure how, but…”
	Clara couldn’t bring herself to speak.  Shame kept her quiet.
	“We’ve studied it,” Lysyria told her.  “My friend here happens to know quite a lot about biochemistry, and she’s determined that the chemical inside of you comes from—”
	“Demonicus Ympetia,” interrupted an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
	Clara tried craning her head.  Into the room stepped a fairy with long, wavy hair down to about her mid-waist, silhouetted against the light from the adjacent area of the house.  The womanly figure placed her hands on her pleasantly sloping hips, sauntering nearer.
	“In your terms,” the woman resumed, “an Imp.”
	Shutting her eyes and curling her lips, Clara wished she could bang her head against something sturdy.  She’d suspected this would be the case, but she hadn’t been prepared for how disheartening the actual news would be.
	More of the woman’s features came into the light as she stood beside Lysyria, over Clara.  Her hair was a vibrant purple, and matching, jagged tattoos spiked up and down her gold-skinned body.  Clara was almost surprised to see that she had pretty much standard body proportions, considering most everyone else she’d met these past couple of days.  The unnamed woman rested a thoughtful finger against her cheek.
	“Clara, this is Arané,” Lysyria said with a short gesture toward the standing lady.  “Arané Veville.  I worked with her for quite a while before I came to the Academy.”
	“It’s a distinct pleasure meeting you, miss Thraughte,” Arané smiled with a tip of her head.  “I’m familiar with your parents’ work.  I must say, I don’t quite envy you having to live up to such a distinguished name.”
	Clara couldn’t give Arané the reciprocal grin she knew she should have.  All she felt was frustration and anger with herself for not being strong enough to fight this.  Lysyria again removed the cloth and dipped it in the cold liquid.
	“It’s nice to meet you too,” Clara breathed.  Her face instantly grew hot without the cloth against her.
	Arané nodded, and her smile slackened, shrinking into neutrality.  She tapped her finger against her cheekbone.
	“I’ve looked over the pheromone’s concentration levels within your body,” the woman explained.  “As I said, I have determined that it belongs to an Imp, and appears to have been circulating within you for several hours.  This has proven somewhat complicated to my understanding of the situation, as Lysyria told me you had been in the Netherrealm with only another Fairy as company prior to your incarceration.  Have you any idea—?”
	“She gave it to me,” Clara grumbled.  She was soothed slightly as Lysyria placed the cloth back on her brow.  “Diana Athenon.”
	Arané and Lysyria exchanged uncertain glances.
	“How could that be?” Arané asked, taking a seat beside Lysyria.
	Clara felt her hands balling into fists.  “She’s half Imp.”
	Arané paused, nodding in slow consideration.  “I see.  Be that as it may, this particular chemical is only produced by males—”
	“The Headmistress has placed a spell on Diana,” Lysyria said, “altering her physiology to resemble that of a Faeon.”
	A concerned frown crossed Arané’s face.  “Then that must explain it.”
	There was a silent pause as Lysyria ran the cool cloth across Clara’s head.  Clara was only glad that no one was asking how exactly Diana had given her the pheromone to begin with.  Arané was back to her feet, and paced briefly out of Clara’s sight.
	“Imp pheromones can be tricky to deal with,” the woman said.  “Their chemical makeup is highly resilient, and they have a nasty habit of staining organic matter, leaving behind deposits from which additional chemicals can be produced.  Unlike many species, these pheromones are not solely compatible with other Imps, as you no doubt understand.  More troubling than that, we have no idea what effect this Diana’s new Faeon biochemistry, if any at all, has had on the chemicals now within you.”
	Clara scowled at the ceiling.  She imagined the kind of pain she’d like to inflict upon Diana the next time they met.  She wanted to get her hands around her neck and wring her life away.  Diana would finally understand consequence.
	“So what happens to me?” Clara asked.
	“Fortunately,” Arané said, stepping back into view, “your life is not in any danger.  Eventually, the chemical will leave your system.”
	Clara dreaded the answer to her next question.  “How long does that take?”
	She saw Arané stop.
	“Well,” the woman said, “therein lies the problem.”
	Clara almost winced, but paid attention.
	Arané’s eyes met hers, “Imp pheromones have been known to remain in hosts' systems for months, and don’t lose their edge until shortly before dissipation.”
	Flinging her head to the side, Clara almost lost Lysyria’s hand from her head, but the professor calmly kept the cloth in place.
	“You’ve already begun to feel the effects, I know,” Arané said, retaking her seat.  “These pheromones are notorious for their intense symptoms.  Lysyria tells me you’ve already undergone at least one mental lapse during your escape.  You are likely going to feel heightened and near constant arousal…perhaps to the point where it will severely compromise your judgment.”
	Letting out a beaten sigh, Clara closed her eyes once more.
	“So, that means I’m out?” she asked.
	There was silence, and she heard Lysyria take a deep breath.
	“This cloth I’m using is soaked in a sedating concoction,” the professor explained.  “When you cool yourself with it, the pheromone’s symptoms are reduced, if only briefly.  The potion I’m using now is only topical, but Arané is working on a digestible delivery method.”
	Clara stared into Lysyria’s ruby eyes, and felt a slow wash of comfort overcome her body.
	“If we can finish that, you’ll be back in.”
	Clara nodded.  “Thank you.”
	As Lysyria smiled, Arané stepped back toward the adjoined room.
	“If either of you need me, I’ll be over a boiling cauldron.”
	Attempting to relax herself, Clara found a number of unanswered questions circling through her head.  Her eyes landed on the opposite edge of the sofa, and watched her toes wriggle beneath the quilts.
	“How will Humankind survive?” Clara murmured.  “If all they’re doing is mating without pause, where does food or anything else come from?”
	Lysyria dabbed with the cloth.  “From what I understand, part of Diana’s spell has enriched Humans’…erogenous emissions with all of their important nutrients.  Semen…breastmilk…it’s all they’ll need to stay alive, apparently.”
	Clara shuddered.  Of course that would be Diana’s solution.
	Lysyria removed the cloth, dropping it in the pail beside her.  “All right, Clara.  It’s time you had a bath.”
	Clara went beet-red.  Her wriggling toes curled in.  She suddenly became all too aware that the washcloth was no longer on her forehead as Lysyria began pulling down the layers of quilts, revealing her prone form.  Before Clara could say anything, the woman had arms wrapped around her back, and was lifting her into a raised position.  Lysyria’s great breasts pressed against her body as she swiveled her feet onto the floor and hoisted her into a precarious stance.  With an arm around her shoulder and a hand on her wrist, Clara was herded by Lysyria into a connecting hallway.
	Trying not to let Lysyria step on her heels, Clara kept a respectable pace for having just risen from unconsciousness.  Her eyes darted along the walls, spying a number of framed pictures and an elegant-looking side table with a pair of candlesticks before she was steered to the side into a resplendent room styled after an older-era bathhouse.  
	“Do I smell that bad?” Clara asked, unsuccessfully attempting to wobble out of Lysyria’s grip.
	“We’re short enough on time,” Lysyria said, moving her toward a submerged cubicle.  “Our other big problem right now is finding a way back to the Netherrealm.  Portal magic cannot be sustained without a focusing device, and since Stewards are the only people qualified to travel between dimensions, all of the known devices are located at the academy, which is a place we are better off avoiding for now.”
	With a brandish of her hand, Lysyria filled the bath with steamy water.  The professor directed Clara into the tub, guiding her footing.  The water was immediately wonderful against her skin, which she’d not washed since before the beginning of her most unfortunate assignment.  With Lysyria’s help, she lowered into a sit.  Taking a deep breath, she relaxed into the hot water.
	“So,” Clara said with her eyes closed, “Do you just want me to let you know when I’m finished, or—?”
	She was cut off by the sound of another body entering the bath.  Opening her eyes, Clara nearly cried out as Lysyria herself dipped into the water.  The tan woman seated herself as well, her billowing breasts floating slightly as she reached back to undo her ponytail.  Lysyria’s hair fell around her shoulders, undulating beneath the water.
	Clara sunk, putting her mouth under.
	“I was in that prison longer than you,” Lysyria said, summoning a shiny-looking corked bottle and popping it open.  “This’ll save time.  Now, turn around.”
	Feeling her blush growing hotter and redder, Clara sighed through her nose and reluctantly turned around onto her hands.  She heard the swish of water as Lysyria waded toward her.
	The pretty professor pressed a sponge against Clara’s sore back, lathering the wash gently against her porcelain skin.  Clara took deep breaths, trying to focus on other things like the rustic metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.  It looked iron-forged, just like Diana’s erect penis.
	Clara bit her lip.  Her eyes widened as she realized the inescapable grip of Diana’s sex pheromone was again upon her.  Panic flashed through her; Lysyria had only stopped using her potion mere minutes ago, and already its effects were nearly worn off.  She hated Diana, she reminded herself.  She hated her dark, immaculately sculpted body and her mind-boggling curves!  And yet, as Lysyria wrung the sponge over Clara’s sudsed form, her hand swam to her womanhood, resting tentatively against her tingling mound.
	“Your turn, please,” Lysyria said, turning herself around and draping her long hair across the front of her shoulder.
	Clara glanced over at the woman, her mouth agape.  Lysyria’s toned back glistened and shone in the wet air.  The professor held the sponge and the wash bottle for Clara to take.  With trembling hands, Clara received the objects, and beheld them with murky awareness.  The heat was rising between her legs and through her entire body.  Lysyria was asking her to touch her body—with a sponge, of course, but still—her naked body!  Throwing caution to the winds, gulping down her rattled breaths, Clara poured the rose-scented gel onto the sponge and cautiously set it against Lysyria’s beautiful back.
	“We do have a plan, Arané and I,” Lysyria began as Clara sluggishly pushed the sponge up toward her shoulder blade.  “But it depends on us being able generate an interdimensional gateway."
	Clara's teeth wanted to chatter.  Her anxious hands squeezed the sponge.  She did her best to keep her eyes on the soapy streaks trickling down Lysyria's hot skin.  The girl’s legs crept around the professor’s body, inches from a full-on straddle.
	“Notifying the authorities may be impractical at this point,” the woman went on, washing her supple chest herself with the sweet-smelling foam floating atop the opaque bath.  “The last thing they’ll believe is that the FSA’s headmistress is planning to unleash a globalized affliction into the Netherrealm, and has amassed a legion of Faeon forces for protection.”
	Clara was unable to form whole words as her eyes became lost in the the expansiveness of Lysyria’s bobbing flesh mounds. “Mm-hmm…”
	Lysyria rinsed away her bubbly coat with a sweep of her arm.  “Instead, we’re working on a counterspell based on the spellstone within the Faeons' handstaff.  Introducing that will hopefully prevent this condition from transmitting between individuals.”
	“But…” Clara brushed the sponge against Lysyria’s slender neck, “how could we deliver such a…spell…to every Human on Earth…?”
	“There is a theory,” Lysyria told her, cupping her wet melons as best she could with her petite hands and lathering them once more, “suggesting that if sufficiently conductive spellstones are added to a portal’s generator matrix, their magical effects will be massively amplified and cast from the gateway’s output.”
	Clara had to clench the sponge to keep hold of it.  She could feel her sweat rising coldly, could see her hands whitening.  This wasn’t any good.  Her body needed to be touched…to be warmly tended to.  Unbearable tension blazed between her thighs, torturing her scintillated womanhood.  Her legs needed every bit of restraint to not bind against Lysyria’s nude figure.
	Such control was rapidly fleeting.
	With a small plunk, the sponge fell out of Clara’s hands into the water.  The girl’s palms landed on Lysyria’s soaped shoulders, clutching for support.  The sunny-skinned woman peeked across her shoulder.
	“Clara?”
	Shades of tomato blew across Clara’s cheeks.  Her tremoring fingers fell across Lysyria’s curved-V form, trailing against her waist, crossing her tight navel.  The woman cast a concerned eye, but Clara didn’t notice.  Unable to ease her quiet shudders, the blue-haired, very-bothered girl gave in, and let her legs close around Lysyria’s waist.
	Lysyria’s arms rose out of the water.  She clutched the bath’s edge with one hand.
	“Clara, are you—?”
	“I can’t do it…” Clara almost sobbed, pressing her burning cheek against Lysyria’s upper back.  Her arms constricted around the woman, who put up no struggle.  “It’s too much, it…it’s stronger than me…”
	Her eyes closed as she felt Lysyria’s free hand rest against hers.  Clinging to the woman’s graceful body, she felt a teardrop roll down her face and against Lysyria’s shoulder.  The woman’s cool, assuring presence was all that soothed her, all that seemed good.  Clara felt almost unworthy to share the same room as her, far less the same bath.
	“I know it’s difficult, Clara,” Lysyria whispered.  “I can only imagine what it is you’re going through—”
	“I’m not the person I know I am,” Clara wept, the words burning her throat.  “It’s weakening me…”
	The firm hand gave her fingers a squeeze.  “What can I do, Clara?”
	Opening her eyes, Clara felt her tears subsiding.  She laid plastered to Lysyria’s naked back, wearing a frozen, wide-eyed expression.  The sights around her became lost, replaced with echoes, whispering and slithering through her head, speaking to her.
	“Even you crave it, Clara.  Don't you feel it?”
	The shadow of Diana’s voice quieted in a soft breeze, replaced by Arané’s soft timbre.
	“You are likely going to feel heightened and near constant arousal…perhaps to the point where it will severely compromise your judgment.”
	All control escaped her.  With extra-bodily force, Clara freed her hands from Lysyria’s comforting clasp, and tossed them up to the woman’s giant tits, seizing massive handfuls of the flesh that was immediately even juicier than she’d dared imagine.
	Lysyria gasped loudly, “Clara!”
	There was no stopping this now.  Clara groped and kneaded with ferocious hunger at Lysyria’s huge boobs, squeezing every possible inch of her slick, soft chest.  The voltage charging within her loins pulsed sharply, throwing her hips back in a lovely discharge.  Her tenacious palms pressed the professor’s jugs together, mashing her cleavage, while her overstimulated fingers flicked tantalizingly against the woman’s swollen nips.
	“Clara…” Lysyria repeated, her whisper winding off its rails as the girl gave her paps an aggressive pinch.
	Quite unable to stop for words, Clara brought her chin against the broader part of Lysyria’s shoulder and bit softly against her neck, tweezering the tense muscle between her teeth.  Lysyria’s hand shot over her mouth as a cry nearly escaped her.  Clara was unrelenting in her clutches on the woman’s too-healthy boobs, feeling and massaging as though she were rolling twin mounds of dough.  Lysyria’s hushed moans grew ever more apparent, and Clara could sense the woman’s slim, athletic body beginning to let itself gyrate ever so slightly beneath the water.  Part of her had to wonder why the professor was not offering any resistance, but those thoughts were quickly stuffed away into a black corner of Clara’s sex-addled consciousness.  The girl scooted her pelvis up to Lysyria, and ground her boiling loins against the woman’s flexing ass.
	Clara nearly reeled as Lysyria twisted her body around to face her.  The woman’s rippling, red eyes pierced hers, and seemed to briefly recall the girl’s senses.  Leaning back on her palms, Clara grappled with sudden, overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame.  Lysyria was the one person who had helped her since all this trouble started, and Clara had just violated her while her back was turned.
	“I’m…I’m sorry…” Clara choked through her tears.  Self-loathing swept her as she failed to pry her eyes from Lysyria’s slowly swaying tits.
	But Lysyria made a bold and unexpected move.  Pushing herself forward and chest-to-chest with Clara, the woman wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist and rested a hand on her tear-stricken cheek.
	Then, Lysyria kissed her.
	Clara’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as Lysyria’s tongue slipped against hers, sliding toward the back of her throat.  Their lips slowly danced together, tasting and drinking in one another.  Lysyria’s comforting hand held Clara’s head close to her, keeping her steeped in the almost mind-numbing happiness that was flushing out her earlier dread.  After several overloading moments, the professor split their kiss, and rose to her knees until she towered by a couple of heads, draping her arms over Clara’s back and floating her heavy, delicious chest right at the girl’s mouth-level.
	“Go on,” Lysyria murmured, her lips and eyelids thinly parted.  “Have your way.”
	Getting over the last of her shock with a small gulp, Clara clutched the woman’s back and thrust her face into the obscenely alluring chest-pillows.  She mashed Lysyria’s splendorous breasts against her very skull, pressing much harder than she needed to.  The steamy warmth and mesmerizing plushness plundered Clara’s mind.  Her thirsty tongue dragged thickly against Lysyria’s sternum, savoring her rich, assuaging flavor.
	Lysyria’s pelvis pressed up against Clara’s flat belly, and rubbed powerfully against her.  Clara, with some mental effort, averted herself from the woman’s abyssal cleavage, only to quickly fasten her lips around one of Lysyria’s dark, fattened nipples.  She sucked, and Lysyria groaned, pushing her hips in even further until she had Clara pinned to the bath’s edge.  Vacuuming the nub with all her might, Clara began flicking her tongue around its bloated mass, feeling the porous skin wrinkle softly as her tastebuds pulled it along.  The hunger within her was being satisfied, but this was something she surely didn’t want to end.
	As Lysyria’s hips rhythmically humped against Clara, the blue-haired girl slid her hands down the woman’s back to her toned buttocks, feeling the power flexing within them.  Lysyria placed her fingertips under Clara’s chin, and gently pointed her gaze upward, where the professor’s face was nearly hidden by her massive underbust.
	“Come with me,” the woman breathed.  She lowered herself, and scooped beneath Clara’s legs with her arms, guiding her out of the bath and onto the tile floor.
	Laying Clara back, Lysyria bore over her on her hands and knees, letting her long hair paint wetly against the girl’s goosebumped skin.  The woman rocked forward, then dipped down and pulled back, dragging her luscious tits across Clara’s caving stomach.  Clara peered down, watching Lysyria’s head and loose tongue drift into the V of her legs.
	“Let me finish cleaning you, miss Thraughte,” she whispered, blowing her sweet, hot breath against Clara’s quivering womanhood.
	Clara’s entire body spasmed tremendously as Lysyria’s tongue slipped against her wet pussy.  Her legs bent nearer, and a reflexive hand flew to just below her bellybutton.  Lustful cries pounded from her lungs.  Lysyria skillfully lapped at her burning mound, licking and mouthing her flame.  Shivers shot up Clara’s spine as the squishes of the woman’s tongue against her wetness smacked through her ears.  Her back arched as climactic energy surged through her.  Curling her toes and flattening her palms against Lysyria’s head, Clara slipped helplessly into orgasm.
	The tile rubbed stingily against the girl’s blue-ruffled scalp as she reared her head against the floor, receiving windy, raspy breaths and watery wells cordoned by her fluttering eyelashes.  She came with disarming intensity, bucking and squirming against Lysyria’s buried face.  Endorphins fireworked into her very bones, immolating her with thought-destroying sexual nirvana.  No other sensation could come even close to the heaven blustering inside of her now.
	Many uncounted seconds blew by, until Clara could feel her muscles beginning to loosen, and her spine settling from its hard bow-shape.  Prickly knuckles knocked back against the floor, immobile and twitching as blood trickled back into her fingers.  The bathwater had grown cold on her skin in the more open air, adding additional spasms to Clara’s afterthrobs.
	Lysyria’s hands wedged beneath the girl’s back, and worked her into an upright posture.  Clara slumped forward, spent like she’d never been in her life.  A fluffy towel landed over her shivering shoulders.
	“I hope that gives you some reprieve,” Lysyria huffed, dropping to her thighs and resting herself against Clara’s bent, toweled back.  “Just remember this can only be a once in a while thing.”
	Clara swam in her own head, feeling somewhat out-of-body.  That, just now, couldn’t have actually happened.
	The girl set a damp hand against her suddenly aching head.
	“Ungh…”
	She felt Lysyria’s heart-easing hands set over her shoulders.  This woman had no reason to go so far out of her way to tend to Clara, and yet, like someone much more than a mother or caretaker, Lysyria had just shown how willing she was to soothe her torture.  Lifting her spine and nuzzling the back of her head against Lysyria’s, Clara closed her eyes, and let herself sink into the young, beautiful professor’s healing presence while she could.
	Things weren’t about to become any easier, but for just a moment, as Clara and Lysyria laid against one another in quiet recuperation, it was all better.Friday, 12:51pm

	While Elizabeth had been flying through the house in a tizzy, trying to make the place once again spotless, Jack had settled into the living room.  He was sunken into the L-sofa’s corner, reclined and playing his 3DS.
	It had been a good day so far.  This time yesterday, he could hardly have expected that, over the coming twenty-four hours, his penis would suddenly and inexplicably explode in size, he’d begin shooting out unthinkably massive amounts of so-called semen in unreal episodes of incomprehensible pleasure, and he and Elizabeth, his babysitter, would begin having frequent sexual encounters.  If anything, he thought he’d be much older before that last bit happened, and hadn’t even fathomed that the first two were even possible.
	But Jack couldn’t complain—at least, he couldn’t complain much.  Worrisome to him was the question of how he’d be reintroduced to normal life after this weekend.  Elizabeth had given him a freebie by calling him in sick, but sooner or later, he’d have to go back to school, back to the public.  And his parents…how were they going to react to all of this?  If he feared one thing above all else, it was that his mom and dad would start to treat him differently if they discovered his change.
	Maybe they didn’t have to find out, Jack thought.  Maybe this was something he could conceal, albeit with a good deal of effort.  Perhaps once Elizabeth went home, these uncontrollable urges he felt gnawing within his body would finally lapse.  If he could at least keep his enormous dick from growing hard and gigantic, no one, he supposed, would be the wiser.
	Speaking of uncontrollable urges, though…
	Jack’s thumbs slipped out of place across the handheld’s screen as he felt the all too familiar rush between his legs.  Try as he might to keep focused on his game, it was impossible for him to ignore the swelling enormity within his sweatpants, the inflating thickness throbbing against his legs, creeping down past his knees.  His tremendous, tender balls fattened uncomfortably in the cramped space between his legs and the couch.
	Dropping the 3DS against the sofa cushion, Jack did the only thing he could and slipped out of his pants, leaving his lower body naked and springing his massive cock from its prison.  The hugely engorged member bobbed and twitched in front of the boy, long enough that its shiny, flared head was at his eye-level.  It still seemed to be growing, he thought, though at a much slower rate than before.  Jack was still awed at the sight of his own fantastic size, remembering how much tinier he’d been just the night before.  Longer than his thigh and as thick as a coke can, his young, beastly rod was like a monument built onto his small body.
	Jack couldn’t help but feel proud.
	He felt a wet bead trickle down the underside of his bloated shaft, trailing thickly and hotly down to his tightening testes.  Pleasant shivers spiked through him, asking him to indulge his powerful sexual hunger.  Elizabeth, of course, would probably be mad with him if he squirted all over the room after she’d spent so much time cleaning up after him.
	But he couldn’t resist.
	Raising his shoulders slightly against the sofa, Jack set a hand on the thick trunk in front of him.  That alone was enough to send ripples of hot pleasure up and down his fat, long shaft.  Getting a firmer grip on his cock, he slowly began pumping up and down.  It boggled his young mind to think that just yesterday, he could have fit the entire thing into his closed hand, and now he couldn’t even get his fingers all the way around.  Every slight touch was bliss, every stroke, heaven.
	And when he started shooting out his pearly juice—cumming, Elizabeth had called it—he felt as though he were risen to an entirely new mode of existence, where pleasure was constant and intense.  It felt, in a way, like he might die whenever he came, so great was the release.  Every time he’d finish, he instantly knew he needed it again.  Jack knew his body was full of more cum than should have been possible for someone his size, or anyone else for that matter.  It couldn’t be healthy for him if he wasn’t letting all of it out.
	Both of Jack’s hands held his beastly dick, accelerating to an aggressive jerk.  With each upward pump, about a cup of his glassy fluids would leap out of his urethra, smacking stickily against the couch cushion.  Between his skinny legs, his bursting balls jostled heavily.  He wanted…needed to cum more than anything else.
	The boy’s clear juices were streaming out of him in an unbroken cascade, trickling down his fingers and against his balls.  As they often did when he was climbing this intoxicating slope, strange, deviant thoughts swam through his head, filling him with ideas and desires he never normally had.  Last time he’d acted on one such idea, he’d licked at Elizabeth’s ass.  Shivers hit him as he recalled that episode, the dank, sweaty taste of his babysitter’s most private parts, a flavor he couldn’t have called good, but one he no less savored.  Now, that sexual instinct whispered at him, asking him to make this unkempt act of stroking his cock on the couch somehow dirtier.
	Immediately, he recalled his dream right before he’d awakened, remembering the way he’d been made to suck his own immense penis.  His mighty member flexed at the thought.  Jack knew it would be easy given its prodigious length, but a part of him still questioned whether it was really something he should do.  Maybe yesterday he would have been completely recoiled by the notion of putting his own dick into his mouth, but now, with it inches from his face, the temptation stirred.
	Making up his mind with a short gulp, Jack brought the fat head of his cock against his chin.  The rough, swollen cap tingled sharply against the hardness of his jaw, and leaked further swells of his musky juices.  His lips hovered apprehensively away from the bulbous warhead, waiting for the last tiny bits of hesitation to work their way out.
	Finally taking the plunge, Jack opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could, and craned himself down onto his own mammoth meat.  He seemed particularly huger than ever now as he tried to work his enormity past his cranked jaws.  His penis throbbed dramatically as it slipped against his taut inner-cheeks and scrubbed against the dry surface of his tongue.  Suppressing his gags, Jack gently set his teeth into his spongy knob, scraping them tantalizingly against the oversensitive helm.  Salty stickiness flooded into his mouth, bringing back the wonderful richness of which he’d only tasted mere drops before.  Jack wanted to sweep his tongue against his stuffed package, to drink up his outflow, but it was firmly cushioned by his incredible, fleshy volume.  Instead, he gulped down great lumps of his own juice, each swallow tugging incredibly against his swollen urethra.  He could feel his face becoming radish-red and his tongue growing numb as he drank himself down.  In his hands he cupped his grapefruit-like balls, holding them despite their powerful aches.  As his hungering stomach grew filled with his pre-ejaculate, Jack’s nasally breaths grew sharper and sharper.  His stomach hardened as, within his core, he felt his cum load approaching its boil—
	“Jack!”
	Jack’s thinned, glazed eyes fanned open, darting toward the living room entrance to find Elizabeth standing with a hand over her mouth.  Sensing he was in trouble, he relaxed his jaw, and let his engorged glans fling free, whipping along a long strand of his gluey pre-cum as it flew.
	Elizabeth had dressed herself in a huge, blue trench coat and a rather large pair of sweatpants Jack had never seen before.  Her conspicuous fashion direction at least managed to hide her dynamic figure, though it left her looking a bit big-boned.  She stared round-eyed at Jack on the couch, sitting with his beefy rod just out of his mouth.
	“I-I’ve been cleaning!” Elizabeth stammered, setting her gasp-shielding palm against her round hip.  “I don’t have time to clean up another mess right now, so…”
	Jack blushed, and felt his face turn sheepish.  His penis was actually softening, much to his genuine shock, although he felt no such ease in his fully-ripened testes.  A quiver ran through his spine as the tip of his dick brushed briefly against the soft fibers of the couch cushion.
	“It’s…” Elizabeth set a hand on her head, as though it ached, “okay, it’s almost one o’clock, leaving us two hours before Leesy gets home.”
	Feeling his stomach sour for a moment, Jack had to wonder with dread how things were going to work out with Annelise present.  All this ridiculousness between himself and Elizabeth had to be kept hidden from her.  As her older brother, Jack truly believed that.
	“Because of the, uh…” Elizabeth’s wandering eyes kept sticking back to Jack’s penis.  Jack noticed her other hand brushing closer toward her crotch.
	“Because I’m a much different size now than before, I need to get at least one outfit that’s not…” Elizabeth gestured with a downward sweep of her arms, “…this.”
	Drawing his sweatpants back into place over his still slightly-risen dick, Jack swung his feet from the couch onto the carpet, feeling his fat love-eggs beat painfully against his thighs.
	“So,” Elizabeth continued, folding her arms beneath her still jutting breasts, “I need to run to Nift-Thrift, meaning you’ll have to come with me.”
	Brief apprehension pinged Jack’s mind.  He’d just been inches from a phenomenal climax, and he had to relieve himself quickly, or else the throbbing hurt in his full balls would quickly evolve into twisting agony.  How could he possibly go out of the house with Elizabeth in such a state?
	“I can’t just wait here?” Jack asked, keeping his legs apart.
	“No, I have to keep you with me,” Elizabeth answered shortly.  “I’ll be quick, we’re just going to run in.”
	Jack’s eyes fell out of contact with Elizabeths’.  The soreness in his balls was already worsening.  Still, even after all he and Elizabeth had done together in just the past few hours, bashfulness kept him from telling his sitter about the dilemma pulsing in his pants.
	“Come on, Jack, we should try to hurry,” Elizabeth pressed, jingling her car keys.
	Jack lingered some steps behind the babysitter as she brushed by him into the entry hall.  The front door made a startling crack as Elizabeth opened it, snapping the boy briefly out of his aching stupor and directing his attention to the gray, autumn daylight outside.  Slipping into his sneakers sitting by the doorframe, Jack shuffled into the crisp outdoor air behind Elizabeth, who closed and locked the house behind them.  Elizabeth drove a mid-nineties honda that was a slightly sun-faded shade of green with a few dings and scratches around the corners.  The babysitter stepped up to the driver’s side door, bending a little as she jimmied her key into the lock.
	Jack’s lips curled as he briefly made out the contours of Elizabeth’s wide, sexy hips against the giant coat.  The tip of his half-baked cock, dangling around his knees, twitched needily against the fabric of his sweats.  Gulping down his lust, he dragged his feet around the car to the passenger’s side and climbed into the brown-upholstered vehicle.  Jack buckled into the musty pleather seat as Elizabeth cranked on the ignition and adjusted the rear mirror.  His balls rolled painstakingly against one another within his tender, hairless scrotum, bulging hugely through the softness of his pants.  Elizabeth’s sidelong peek briefly caught Jack’s attention, but the curvaceous babysitter immediately went back to pulling out of the driveway, twisting around and placing a hand behind Jack’s seat.	
	As Elizabeth steadied herself, Jack got a small glimpse between the half-dollar-sized blue buttons of her coat, spying a few savory inches of the colossal cleavage stuffed within.  It took every conceivable amount of willpower to prevent Jack from throwing his hands against the sitter’s gigantic tits and squeezing every drop of warm, sweet milk out of her pink, puffy nipples.
	Jack kept quiet as he felt a dollop of liquid escape his tip and roll down his leg.  He was silent for the entire ride, trying to occupy himself with the thoughts racing through his head as they travelled the five or so blocks to the Nift-Thrift.  It was little use.  Refusing to go down, Jack’s cock only swelled in tiny bursts, looking like a thick deli sausage taped to his leg beneath his pants.  Scared breaths zipped through his quietly gasping nose.
	Elizabeth steered her car into a parking space near the store’s front entrance, and flung open her door.  With one foot on the pavement, she turned to Jack.
	“Coming?”
	Jack only wished he were cumming.  His system was so backed up, he thought it might soon begin leaking out of his eyes.  He could hardly even imagine trying to walk at this point.
	“I’m…uh…”
	Jack saw Elizabeth notice his distressed package, and saw some color leave her face.
	“Yeah, no,” she stammered, climbing out of the car while her face glowed red, “um, you just wait in here, and I’ll try to be as fast as I can, okay?”
	Nodding in slow anguish, Jack tried to relax himself as Elizabeth shut and locked the car.  He took deep breaths, concentrating on each cool intake of air as they filled his lungs.  Through the windshield, Jack saw a tree, shedding its red leaves in the fall breeze.  He tried counting each leaf he saw drift toward the sidewalk, but with every bit of effort expended on trying to ignore the grueling swell of his tremendous balls, sharper pulses of pain ripped his mind back into this fixation on his massive dick.
	Jack’s penis was nearing full hardness again, tenting past his knee and leaking huge drops of his hot pre-cum down his leg and through his sweatpants material in dark, glassy splotches.  Its base rubbed against his inner leg, sending immobilizing tickled up his titanic shaft.  At any moment he might explode, plastering the entire inside of Elizabeth’s car.  He didn’t want to get into that kind of trouble, but it was beginning to feel like there were no other possibilities.
	Grasping for any random thought to keep his mind off the immense problem growing between his legs, Jack looked over to the beige-bricked Nift-Thrift, praying to himself that Elizabeth really would be quick.

	Amid the murmured bustle of the store, she entered.  Though she was dressed in such a way that concealed her distinct figure, there could be no doubt that she was the one.  Elizabeth was here, and it was time to act.
	Standing behind several rows of metal shelves, Fyr quietly dropped a hand into her pocket.  Getting used to these Human clothes had been a bit challenge at first.  They seemed like so much fuss for articles that provided only minimal protection and similarly limited storage space.  Fairy magic could do anything clothes could do a hundredfold!
	But, Fyr needed to blend.  Diana had chosen her specifically to remain on site and administer certain protocols as they became necessary.  With straight, shoulder-length red hair and modified height and earlobes, she was completely inconspicuous among Humans, and as a distinguished student at the Stewardship Academy, she was aptly suited to serve as an operative in the Athenons' scheme.  She was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, and wore a cumbersome pair of spectacles, which Diana had insisted would contribute to an ensemble of innocence.  She listened to Diana, because she'd told Fyr that she was never wrong.
	Fyr had only disobeyed Diana once, and still had the rope-burns and sore pelvis to show for it.
	It wasn't that Fyr disliked Diana.  Rather the contrary, she trusted and loved Diana like a sister.  Diana, however, was temperamental to say the least.  They'd known each other since before the Academy, and in that time, it seemed Diana had been discretely psychoanalyzing her, learning her desires and vulnerabilities.  As such, the tall, dark Amazonian knew exactly where and how to touch her...
	Moving down the nearby clothing aisle and keeping Elizabeth wedged in her periphery, Fyr wrapped her fingers around the bottle resting in her side pocket.  The Human girl briskly wove into a section a few rows down, and immediately set to rifling through a long rack of plus-sized shirts.
	Already accepted her fate, had she?
	Fyr carefully worked her way closer to the buxom young woman, who already had over her arm a number of blandly-colored garments, seemingly chosen at random.  She could vaguely spot the outrageous curves Elizabeth sported beneath her coat as she leaned and retracted her body.  Cocking an eyebrow, Fyr wondered whether the girl’s proportions exceeded Diana’s.
	The disguised Fairy came quickly to her senses as she witnessed an astounding opportunity.  Nearing Elizabeth was another girl, slim, fair-skinned, and with black, ponytailed hair.  The two faced opposite directions, leaving the perfect margin for Fyr to slip through.
	Fyr’s orders had been to quietly introduce Diana’s Imp pheromones into Elizabeth to further agitate her libido, but if she could simultaneously expose both her and this other girl, things might progress even more smoothly.  Clutching the bottle and holding it to her hip, Fyr hit a quick stride, veering as she left the aisle and zipping into Elizabeth’s row.  She placed her thumb on the container’s release trigger.
	“‘Scuse me,” Fyr murmured as she sidled past the two girls, deliberately brushing her pelvis against Elizabeth’s enormous ass.  As she did, she pressed the trigger, and the bottle’s contents escaped with a barely audible hiss.
	It was done.
	Fyr took a deep breath, and quickly moved away from the girls and toward the furthest corner of the store.  She lifted from her other pocket her speech stone, cleverly disguised as a Human cellphone, and flipped it open.  Pressing its center key, she held the speaker to her ear.
	“Diana,” she said, casting a small look across the building at the girls.  “I’ve delivered the package to the girl and…a friend of hers.”
	“I see,” Diana’s familiar but scrambled voice responded, sounding curious.  “Keep an eye on them and report if anything arises.”
	“Right,” Fyr murmured, closing the phone.  Busying herself with a kitschy collection of plates on the shelf in front of her, she kept one eye glued to the pair.
	Now, she waited.

	Elizabeth examined a fourth enormous pair of jeans with her fingers.  She actively avoided eye contact with the other customers in the store, too embarrassed to know who was watching her peruse the size XXXL racks.  Satisfied with the feeling of the vast denim, she quietly snatched the pants off of their hanger, adding them to her stack of four gigantic shirts and one behemoth of a hoodie, as well as the three other monster pairs of jeans, all draped over her arms.  Reminding herself that it would be better for people to think she was simply overweight than to realize her true proportions, Elizabeth felt a bit calmer about her wardrobe selection.
	Deciding she’d chosen enough, she backed away from the rack.  Immediately, her huge ass bumped into something—or rather, someone.  Elizabeth heard a short gasp from behind, followed by the clatter of several dropped clothes hangers.
	Swinging around, she saw who it was she’d inadvertently shoved away.  A lithe, teenaged-looking Asian girl had dropped into a squat, and was collecting the clothes strewn across the floor.  For a moment, before Elizabeth could say anything, her eyes were driven to the red hem of the girl’s undies and the golden smoothness of her lower back, both just visible between the seat of her pants and her t-shirt.
	“I’m so sorry!” Elizabeth nearly cried.  “Are you okay?”
	For a moment, a flowery scent slipped into Elizabeth’s nostrils.
	“Oh, it’s okay,” the girl said, collecting the last of her clothes and recomposing herself.  		She spun to face Elizabeth.  About a head shorter than herself, the girl had a very pretty face, and wore an expression cooly formed by a pair of elegant black eyebrows and smiling, very pale pink lips.  Her hair was styled simply but nicely, with black crescent bangs that swooped down her flawless cheeks.  Her almond-shaped brown eyes looked into Elizabeth’s from behind black, sleek-framed glasses.
	Elizabeth, trying not to let her eyes wander, took vague note of the girl’s slender figure, which was complemented beautifully by a skinny gray t-shirt and almost-black jeans.
	“Well,” the Asian beauty chuckled with a short nod.
	Elizabeth flashed her a bashful grin, but somehow couldn’t make herself look away.  Something about this girl had her trapped.  She, Elizabeth noticed, wasn’t averting herself either.  The collected guise she had been maintaining was melting at an almost unnoticeable rate, until it became a pensive, foreboding stare.
	Gathering a fair bit of courage, Elizabeth moved against her instincts.
	“So, uh…my name’s Elizabeth.”
	The Asian girl’s eyes fluttered as if she’d been startled awake.  “Oh…hello…Elizabeth.”
	Silent awkwardness filled a couple-second gap.
	“I’m…” the girl stammered.  “My name is Ash.  Like, uh, the kid in Pokémon, not short for Ashley…or anything.”
	Elizabeth gave Ash a generous smile, which seemed to momentarily ease the girl’s apprehension.
	“How old are you, Ash?” Elizabeth asked, keeping her voice controlled.
	For the shortest of seconds, Ash’s teeth brushed over her lower lip, “I’m twenty.”
	Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow, “You’re older than me, wow.  I’m only seventeen.”
	Ash returned Elizabeth’s anxious grin.  Again, they eyed each other wordlessly.  For a moment, Elizabeth noticed Ash’s eyes dart toward her chest and then back.  That was it, she thought.  That was all the indication she needed.
	Elizabeth put a foot forward.  “Are you feeling all right, Ash?”
	The girl’s eyes drifted to the side.  “I’m actually a bit disoriented, I think—”
	Completely discarding her rationality, Elizabeth dropped her collection of oversized clothing and clutched Ash by the shoulders, pulling her into her pillowy chest.  Ash inhaled sharply and burned red around the cheeks, but made no fight.  The thin girl’s body instantly sent tingling pulses through Elizabeth’s bursting chest as she reeled her in.
	“Are you minding this?” Elizabeth whispered into the other girl’s ear, feeling her shiver in her grips.
	Ash responded with a trembling shake of her head.
	“I’m burning,” the girl breathed back.
	Rearing her head, Elizabeth panned across the store, and, seeing no one paying any particular attention to them, returned to Ash.
	“Were you going to try anything on?” Elizabeth asked.
	Ash gulped and lowered her chin, brushing against Elizabeth’s mountainous bosom.  Perspiration shimmered against the girl’s smooth forehead.  As she breathed against Elizabeth, the lens of her glasses became fogged.
	“Why don’t you let me help you?” Elizabeth continued.
	Releasing Ash, she knelt to collect her dropped items and laid them back over her arm.  Her free hand rose to the other girl’s, grabbing her by her rigid fingers.  Elizabeth pierced through Ash with her gaze, fueled by a confidence from out of nowhere at all.  Without waiting for any kind of approval, she started toward the changing rooms, reining Ash along with her iron handhold.
	Ash’s pace was disturbed by her own loose-footedness, but she wasn’t trying to escape.  In fact, Elizabeth could feel the older girl’s fingers trying to cling to hers.  They were nearly scampering for the changing stalls, though Elizabeth was finding herself somehow less and less concerned about what the other customers might see.
	The girls at last reached the row of doors leading to the individual stalls.  Nift-Thrift was nice in that its changing rooms were relatively spacious and had actual doors, allowing for total privacy.  Finding a vacant room and opening the door, Elizabeth guided Ash inside with a hand to her back.  Following after her, she pulled the door shut and flicked the lock with her pinky finger.  The clothes laid across her arm fell instantly to the floor.
	“How is this happening?” Ash whimpered, discarding her own pile of clothing and sitting on the corner bench with her back against the wall.  The girl’s rosy face appeared flustered and anguished—a far cry from the demeanor she’d shown only minutes ago.
	Elizabeth too wondered how exactly this situation was being allowed to progress, but it almost didn’t seem important now that they were in a place where they wouldn’t be disturbed.  She undid the trench coat’s belt, and let the heavy jacket slide off her creamy shoulders.
	The look on Ash’s face as she got her first real glimpse at Elizabeth’s swollen udders was utterly palpable.  Her grimace had instantly transformed into an astonished O expression as the jugs rolled out and slapped softly against Elizabeth’s slim, toned stomach, not at all diminishing as her eyes traveled down to discover her gorgeously thick thighs and magnificent wide hips wrapped tightly in her stretched-out sweatpants.  Ash’s legs spread just a bit.
	Elizabeth took her bloated areolae in her hands, as if to aim them at Ash.  “What do you think?”
	“Unreal…” Ash whispered, shivering in her seat.
	Letting her tits drop, Elizabeth bent forward to lower her pants, revealing her long, bodacious legs and naked womanhood.  She felt like licking her lips as Ash put a hand to her own mouth in stifled shock.  Elizabeth slinked forward, rubbing her meaty thighs together with each criss-crossing step, running a finger along her wet slit.
	Perhaps she’d told Jack she wanted to be his, but Elizabeth didn’t see why he couldn’t share.  He might even get a chance with both of them, Ash willing.  Squatting to Ash’s seated height, Elizabeth slipped her fingers into the neck of the girl’s shirt, feeling her petite chest and graceful collarbone with the smooth backs of her fingernails.  She brushed her nose against Ash’s, who was paralyzed in Elizabeth’s clutches.
	Quite suddenly succumbing to her most deeply-seated voracity, Elizabeth went all in and savagely ripped apart Ash’s shirt as if it were made of tissue paper.  Ash yelped as the clothes were rent from her body, exposing her deliciously skinny form.  Her naked sides curved gently, and her cute b-cup breasts were tipped with chocolatey-brown nipples.  Easing forward with her hands against the bench, Elizabeth came within centimeters of the girl's taut navel, breathing hotly against her golden, nubile skin.  Ash echoed every ragged gasp, helplessly watching Elizabeth with glassy, red eyes.
	Elizabeth's hands shot to the seat of Ash's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as though she were ripping open a bag of potato chips.  Ash flung her arms over Elizabeth's soft shoulders, holding on for the ride.  Nearly husking the tight skinny-jeans off of the girl's slim thighs, Elizabeth nudged Ash's knees further apart, leaving her red-pantied snatch open and vulnerable.
	Not a second was wasted before Elizabeth thrust her face into Ash's covered mound.  The petite Asian made quieted mmph noises as her assailant gnawed at her pussy with her lips, feeling her slickness even through the layer of cotton between them.  She crossed her arms at the wrist behind Elizabeth's neck, placing her palms against the back of the younger girl's head.
	Relishing each spasm she sent surging through her prey, Elizabeth pulled back to meet Ash's watery-eyed fixation.  The seventeen-year-old delicately pressed her lips against the twenty-year-old's stomach, and, poking her tongue against the older girl's toning, trailed her mouth up and between her cute, tiny boobs.  Not breaking eye-contact, Elizabeth hopped to one of Ash's nipples, smooching and caressing it with lewd swirls of her tongue, and then jumped to do the same to the other.  She could feel Ash's goosebumps springing across her arms and chest, felt her delicious nips hardening as she picked her lips away.  Dipping down, she returned to Ash's quivering mound.
	With a degree of skill she never would have guessed herself to possess, Elizabeth snuck her teeth beneath the elastic of Ash's panties, and began unwrapping her last, most anticipated gift.  The cotton undies came away as Elizabeth plucked them with her pearly whites, and laid bare Ash’s closely-trimmed, tight-looking pussy.  The older girl tried to make a noise through her closed teeth, but it vanished into a shudder.
	“Don’t be afraid,” Elizabeth whispered, though she was mostly sure that it wasn’t fear that possessed Ash.
	“Lay me down,” Ash hissed, letting her hands slide down Elizabeth’s shoulders and against her immense jugs.
	Unable to hide her grin, Elizabeth rose to her feet, cradling Ash by her small, but pert buttocks and lifting the girl against her plush melons.  As their heads were briefly at level with one another, the younger, curvier girl drew Ash inward and planted her lips against hers.  Ash made a sound, but it was quickly silenced as Elizabeth slipped in her tongue, exploring the girl’s loose, wet mouth.  The girls’ tongues ran wetly against each other, sticking and looping in a simmering dance.  Elizabeth’s fingers squeezed against Ash’s naked butt, earning a moan from the smaller girl.
	Setting Ash against the carpeted floor on her narrow back, Elizabeth broke their lip-lock and turned herself around before caging the petite Asian with her bent arms and legs.  Ash’s hands wrapped around one of Elizabeth’s dangling udders, and began rubbing down her squeezable flesh in alternating strokes.  Arching her back, Elizabeth stuck her thick, perfectly-formed ass skyward before dropping her head to Ash’s twitching womanhood.
	Ash’s lips clamped to Elizabeth’s fat pap as the younger girl’s tongue landed against her pussy.  She tasted wonderful, Elizabeth mused—a perfect blend of sweet and salty.  Darting her tongue against Ash’s hard clit and probing into her wet opening, she willfully drank in the older girl’s pounding sexual essence.  Elizabeth’s lips felt the sculpt of Ash’s hard-built loins and pelvis, smacking against her flushed, perfect skin.  Ash, at the same moment, kept her hands working on Elizabeth’s swaying tit, not knowing the reward in store for her.  Elizabeth bit her lip as she felt her milk exceed capacity and begin to pour through her ducts, to her engorged nipples.
	With a pop, Ash released Elizabeth’s nipple, moaning as the younger girl’s milk sprayed out in heavenly gouts, wetting Ash with mini shower streams of her sweet cream.  Elizabeth’s body rocked and jiggled as she came powerfully, feeling her orgasmic throbs shudder through her muscles and nerves.  She wanted to scream out from the bursting pleasure firing from her loins, from the crippling waves that resonated through her breasts and thighs.  Elizabeth buried her face into Ash’s mound, eating her up.
	With a hushed cry, Ash bucked her hips against Elizabeth’s jaw, and the smaller girl’s womanhood contracted tightly.  Elizabeth held herself to the girl’s twitching thighs, and wagged her tongue hungrily across Ash’s orgasming pussy.  Ash took short, sharp breaths, wrapping her arms around Elizabeth’s thick, soft thighs.  As the girls came down from their simultaneous climaxes, Elizabeth rolled onto her back, laying next to Ash and cradling her own jiggling milkers, tracing a finger through the sticky streaks of milk that had webbed across her soft skin.  They both stared, foggy-eyed at the white ceiling, nude and spent.
	How had it all gotten so out of hand, Elizabeth wondered.  This sort of thing was so completely unusual and unrealistic, and yet, like everything in the past twenty-four hours and against all probability, it had happened.  It was like a long nightmare, though one that Elizabeth found herself steadily enjoying.
	Oh, she thought.  Jack was still waiting for her.  Sitting up, she glanced down at Ash, who with one hand softly caressed her own milk-spotted breast, and with the other softly stroked her still quivering slit.
	“Ash,” Elizabeth murmured, drawing the girl’s distant attention.
	“That was incredible…” Ash whispered, bending her legs.  “How did we just—”
	“How about you come with me for now,” Elizabeth interjected, stepping back into her sweats and pulling on her coat.  “I have a friend I’d like to introduce you to.”

	Unable to hold off any longer, Jack had to free his steel, almost two-foot-long cock from its trap.  Nearly jumping out of his sweats, he didn’t care anymore whether anyone might see him.  His massive dick swung out of his dropped pants like a baseball bat, smacking wetly against his shirt and leaving a big, round wet spot on his chest.  Jack paid it no mind.  If he didn’t cum, he was going to explode.
	Picking up right where he left off back at his house, he wrapped both hands tightly around his obscene girth and forced his mouth over his shiny, fist-sized glans.  His lips slipped relatively easily over his self-lubed knob, and without taking any time to get comfortable, he got to work.
	Jack slurped hungrily on his own penis, barely needing to crane his neck to keep himself affixed to the limb-like member.  Furiously jacking the soft underside of his length, he forced greater and greater quantities of his salty juices down his throat.  He closed his tear-stricken eyes, wishing he could savor every massive gulp, but the slicing pain in his behemoth balls was too much to stand.  Working out his backed up system, he drank every musky drop.  In no time at all, the squiggling veins running along his incredible shaft were as thick as marker pens, and amid the pounding pain shooting from his groin, an unbelievable pressure was mounting near his base.
	Sucking his huge mass with voracity, loving every thick drop of his own rich, salty flavor, Jack didn’t even think of pulling away as he felt his pool-sized load rising fatly up his blown out shaft.  The volcanic heat filled his mouth first.
	Then, he took the first round.
	His cum fountained out of his swollen cap, flooding his gullet wall-to-wall in less than a second.  It sprayed from his nostrils with as much force, streaking Jack’s shirt with thick ropes.  As always, his second ejaculation began before the first was even finished, and with that, his cheeks blew up to full tautness while much of his gushing seed yet dribbled out of his mouth in huge, thick quantities.  Jack attempted to swallow, but it was too much.  Already, he was nearly choking on his own vast cum supply.
	Jack’s third squirt propelled his head away from his dick, throwing him back against the headrest.  His eyes widened as he lost control of his exploding mammoth cock, which flew wildly about, desperately unloading his dangerous oversupply across every clean inch of Elizabeth’s car.  Enormous streams splashed loudly against the car’s dashboard and the windshield, while more shot straight back at Jack, caking him thoroughly while he coughed down the thick dregs in his throat.  Every bountiful burst of his fresh, pungent milk overloaded the young boy with indescribable bliss, like all good things in the world were suddenly his.  Each unbelievable volley felt like the end of one life and the beginning of another, never dulling him to the beautiful sting of his cum exploding out of his tremendous, over-developed dick.  He squirted and squirted, unable to feel ashamed for plastering Elizabeth’s car floor-to-ceiling with his unending spunk.  His geysering semen burst out of him with an audible, constant squiiiiish.  Hearing, smelling, and tasting himself only energized Jack’s monstrous ejaculation, turning his already impressive cumshots into impossible jets.  As his completely straight payout smacked against the windshield, he grew afraid it might shatter through.
	Using the last of his stamina, Jack kept pumping his cock.  He couldn’t avert his eyes from his wondrous cum streams to check whether his balls were shrinking down at all, but he recognized the feeling of great relief as he poured gallon upon gallon of his pearly goo onto the upholstery.  Eventually, he’d run out.
	Jack placed his feet on the soaked dashboard and leaned back in the chair, pointing his monster toward the backseat.  Maybe Elizabeth would be mad about his mess, but he couldn’t possibly have held on any longer.  His ejaculations hardly waned as they flew over his head and slopped into the back.  His penis had been locked in an unbroken flex over the entire course of his release, fattened to such a point that a pinprick might have popped it.
	In the ten years of his life, Jack hadn’t even dreamed such pleasure was even remotely attainable.  Yet, here he was now, feeling it every few hours as his body built up ludicrous reserves too great for him to contain.  No ten-year-old…no Human should have known this.
	But Jack did.
	Four minutes passed.  Jack’s ecstasy only fell from its spike as his cum began to leave him in rather gentle arcs.  He felt his body might crumple down like newspaper in a pit fire as the last of his energy left him.  Slumped into his cum-slathered seat, Jack surveyed the damage, vaguely thinking that Elizabeth’s car looked as though it had passed through a carwash with its windows down.  His anaconda-cock stuck to his body, soft, but hardly any shorter.
	Rolling his head to the side and peering out the window, Jack suddenly realized it was the time to panic, but hadn’t the power to manage even that.  Watching him from right outside were Elizabeth and another girl, both saucer-eyed and open-mouthed, both frozen at the sight of what he’d done.
	Summoning all that he could, Jack managed a small wave.Friday, 1:46pm

	“It’s worked, Mistress,” Fyr said, crossing her thighs.  She sat in the car the Diana had conjured for her, made attractively sleek without being too gaudy.  Luckily the vehicle was capable of driving itself, relieving Fyr of having to learn another complicated set of skills for this assignment.
	But right now, she was feeling far from relieved.
	Slipping her fingertips into the closed space between her legs, she listened for Diana’s response.
	“They’ve made contact?” the woman’s sultry voice queried.
	Fyr dabbed her sweaty brow with her arm, “Yes, t-they left together.  They seem to have returned to the Prince home.”
	There was a pause.
	“You sound somewhat tense, my dear.”
	It was Diana’s pheromone.  Fyr had known that it was more than likely going to affect her as well as their two targets.  Torrid emanations smothered her rationality, replacing her typically firm sense of responsibility with a gnawing, lustful hunger seated at her deepest core.  This was what Fyr had done to Elizabeth and that other girl.  It was what Diana had evidently done to that Thraughte girl too.
	What a wonderful way to suffer.
	“Yes, Mistress…”
	“Couldn’t resist having a whiff of my musk, could you?” Diana sneered.
	Fyr’s fingers hardened around the phone.  “It was unavoidable, Diana—”
	“Don’t give me that, you slut,” the domineering Fairy-Faeon barked back.
	Blushing, Fyr stared at the floor-mats.  “I apologize, Mistress…”
	Just sitting around was driving the girl mad.  Her loins boiled with unsatisfied yearning, trapping her in a sexual vice.  Tingling spasms thumped through her slowly gyrating body, which squeaked unflatteringly against the leather car seat.  Fiddling her thighs, she could feel her steamy wetness building behind the cotton of her underwear.  Nothing would have been better than going home to the Feymarch, getting a room alone with Diana, and letting the god-sculpted beauty have her way with her.
	“Keep an eye on them,” Diana continued, “and tell me everything that happens.”
	Fyr breathed through her teeth, closing her eyes.  On top of this torture, Diana now wanted her to quietly observe these Humans while they had spectacular sex with one another.  She’d be lucky if she made it out of this one with her sanity, she thought.
	“Yes, Mistress.”
	Diana’s chuckle cut through the distortion, “If I like what I hear from you, I’ll have a nice surprise waiting when you get back.”
	Gasping silently, Fyr’s hand flew to the collar of her shirt, yanking hungrily at the fabric, her cold knuckles grinding against her hot chest.  Steadying her grip, she pressed the phone near her lips.
	“As you wish…”
	“As I wish, what?”
	Fyr’s tongue smacked dryly against the roof of her mouth.
	“As you wish, Mistress.”

	The car ride home had been nothing less than awkward.  Had Jack known Elizabeth would be bringing a friend back with her, he might have held onto his load for a while longer.  Instead, they’d sat in the invisible mist of his angrily spent cum, trapped amid the heavy aroma of his seed and not uttering the slightest sound after the short round of introductions as they were peeling out of the Nift-Thrift parking lot.
	Ash was the girl’s name.  Although Jack hadn’t dared look back at her after she’d seen him hose down the inside of Elizabeth’s car, he’d thought she was pretty at first glance.  He liked the way her slim glasses complimented her cheekbones, and the smooth look of her black hair.  Unlike Elizabeth, Ash’s figure was quite skinny—actually much like Elizabeth’s before her growth spurt—but she was still rather attractive.
	They were out of the car now, parked back in the driveway of Jack’s house, and were hoofing it through the front door.  Jack followed the girls into the house, passing Elizabeth as she shut and locked the door behind them.  Elizabeth, he noticed, was very red in the face, looking very flustered as though she needed him and Ash to hurry.  The babysitter hadn’t said a word about what was going on, and Jack had no idea exactly why Ash had come home with them, though he suspected he’d soon find out.
	Elizabeth came marching forward, and placed a hand each on Jack’s and Ash’s backs, steering them toward the stairs.  They obeyed the curvy girl’s guidance, and stepped quickly up the steps, still silent.  As they reached the second-floor landing, Elizabeth nearly shoved them into the hall, driving them to the far end and turning them sharply into the master bedroom.
	Jack felt very uncertain as they stepped into his parents’ room.  He’d only ever come in when his parents were there too, and entering with these girls felt like he was breaking some unspoken rule.
	Then again, he thought, he’d already had sex with Elizabeth.  He was now way past following his parents’ rules.
	Closing the door, Elizabeth slinked toward Jack and Ash, arms folded.  She peered at Jack with hawkish eyes, curling her lips.  Jack felt his heart thumping, anxiously awaiting the sitter’s angry reprimand.
	“So, Jack,” she said, towering over the boy, eyeing him past the immense globes on her chest.  “Is there anything you’d like to say?”
	Jack gulped, “I-I’m sorry, Beth…”
	Elizabeth bent forward, letting her tits sway beneath her heavy coat.  Her narrowed eyes stabbed through him.
	“What are you sorry for?”
	“I’m…” Jack felt himself growing hot and ashamed.  “I’m sorry I…made a mess.”
	“What kind of mess?” Elizabeth pressed.  “And speak loudly so my friend Ash can hear you.”
	Jack glanced back at Ash, who stared on, crimson-cheeked.
	“I’m sorry for cumming…all over your car…”
	Elizabeth set her hands on her giant hips.  “Are you sure you’re sorry?  You looked like you were enjoying it.”
	Jack stared at his feet and the soft bulge against his sweats.  He knew he’d been bad, but why was Elizabeth trying to embarrass him?  Hadn’t she earlier said she’d wanted to make sure he felt good?  He felt the sitter’s eyes still on him, drilling him for answers.
	“It…felt good.”
	“What felt good?” Elizabeth asked, drawing his head up with a finger beneath his chin.  Despite her unbreakable gaze, she didn’t actually appear angry.
	Jack took a breath, attempting to meet Elizabeth’s eyes.  “It felt good when…I shot my cum inside your car.”
	Smiling slyly, Elizabeth rested a hand against Jack’s cheek, giving it a slight pat with her fingers.
	“I believe you, Jack,” she said.  “Still, you made a very big mess after I told you I didn’t have time to clean another one.”
	Jack frowned sheepishly as Elizabeth straightened back to full stature, like a mighty hourglass.
	“As punishment,” Elizabeth continued, thumbing loose one of the coat’s buttons, “you’re going to have to satisfy both me and Ash.”
	Shooting another look at Ash, Jack saw her grow a wild-eyed expression, and her rosy face turn an icy white.  He looked back at Elizabeth, who had undone enough buttons that her juicy, jiggling cleavage was threatening to burst free.  There was a twinge in his pants, as his dick stirred from its short slumber.
	Elizabeth undid and cast aside the coat’s belt, revealing her slim midriff.  “And that means, Jack, that you don’t get to stop until both she and I say we’ve had enough.”
	The coat dropped from her shoulders, bellowing dully against the carpet.  Elizabeth’s massive jugs swayed free, rolling very slightly against her stomach, perky and creamy, with her puffy, dome-like areolae and nipples very clearly swelling in anticipation.  She laid one hand atop her expansive bosom, while with the other she slid the sweatpants off of her meaty hips.
	“Now, Jack,” she said, wiggling her thick, incredible thighs out of the collapsing sweats, “please let our guest take your pants off.”
	Jack felt the redness flare from his cheeks to the very tip-tops of his ears.  His cock surged for a moment in size, before easing back into its slow ascent.  Turning, he faced Ash, but couldn’t look her in the eye.  Though this notion of having sex with these two beautiful girls was absolutely enticing, Jack felt an overclouding shame marring his excitement.
	“Ash,” Elizabeth said, “don’t be shy.”
	Still facing the floor, Jack saw Ash’s feet step into his view.  The girl lowered herself to her knees, placing her hands on the soft carpet.
	“Um…Jack,” she murmured.
	Jack made himself look up.  He saw Ash, her face leveled with his, looking at him with dewy eyes behind her sleek rims.
	“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” the girl said, breathing shakily, “okay?”
	Jack nodded, still not feeling open enough to speak to this strange girl.  Ash, without waiting for any such reply, stuck her thumbs beneath the elastic of Jack’s pants, and slowly worked them down his legs.  As the fabric began to cross his stuffed rod, Jack saw Ash’s eyes nearly double in size.  She uncovered inch after inch, her eyes sticking to him in fervid disbelief at his engorged treasure.  Getting the pants down past his knees, Ash quickly reeled as Jack’s long, turgid dick flung up and slapped her loudly against the chin.  The girl recovered shortly, steadying the bobbing beast with a petite hand and pointing it safely at her collar bone.
	Ash inspected Jack’s vastly-overdeveloped dick, aghast and in awe.  Her small fingers tested his rigidity, pressing ever so lightly against his meaty girth.  Her beautiful brown eyes scanned pensively across his solid length, traveling up and down, connecting the unreal package to the young boy’s body.  She looked, suddenly, as if she were having second thoughts about all this.  Jack tried to catch his breath, letting his heartbeat slow back to normality.
	But, with a tough squeeze, Ash suddenly aimed Jack’s monster dong at her face, and with a tenacity he couldn’t possibly have expected, she spread her cute, pink lips tightly over his obscenely swollen glans.  Jack groaned loudly, throwing his head back as Ash’s tongue ran expertly against him, licking the rough, super-sensitive surface of his cockhead.  His urethra tickled as his fluids dribbled thickly into Ash’s throat.
	Pumping her hand up and down Jack’s giant penis, Ash slurped noisily against his slathered tip, closing her eyes while she tasted his every drop.  The wet vacuum of the tiny girl’s mouth rippled heavenly against his member, bringing the veins along his shaft to bulging fullness.  Already, Jack could feel his balls tightening, and the pressure in his abdomen reaching its wonderful, boiling capacity.  For a girl with such a quiet disposition, Ash exhibited no inhibition, servicing Jack with unbelievable skill.
	Jack clutched the base of his cock as he felt his eruption breach the gates, flooding through him with terrific speed.  Ash still sucked him off, unaware of the imminent explosion flying her way.  It ran up his shaft, stretching it wide, hitting his tip…
	Ash coughed and gagged around Jack’s flexing glans as his deluge burst into her mouth, exploding with such force and volume that streams of his juice immediately jetted from her nostrils.  Yanking herself away, Ash reclined softly onto her elbows, while Jack tried to keep his fiery orgasm under control.  His plentiful streams arced over and against Ash, whose mouth hung open while her tongue circled round its edges, collecting the globs stuck to her cheeks and face.  Unable to steady himself, Jack squirted his cum in incredibly long ropes against his parents’ bed, where it landed in snaking streaks, splattering wetly into the comforter.  His pleasure, as always, was almost too great.  He gasped and moaned, not bothering to quiet himself, crying raggedly as he unloaded his back-supply of fresh, hot cum all over the room and Ash.
	As he let loose his last pearly strings, Jack dropped to his knees.  Ash, herself, rested on her back, her clothes stained with Jack’s healthy quarts of semen.  The bed looked like a Pollock painting, white against black, glimmering in the faint sunlight seeping in through the turned blinds.  Jack squeezed and pumped the residual fluid out of his shaft, dribbling another several ounces into a thick soup on the carpet.
	A pair of hands took Jack by the shoulders, raising him back to his feet.  He was turned rather forcefully to face Elizabeth, whose udders already dripped with her overflowing milk.  The sitter then brought him into a sit, before laying him against his back.  Elizabeth stood over Jack’s shirt-clad body, one hand grabbing his still diamond-hard shaft and pointing it toward the wide V of her pelvis.  She was going to put him inside of her again, Jack realized.
	Good, he thought.  That felt amazing.
	Squatting down, Elizabeth stopped briefly as Jack’s huge glans met her tight, wet opening, resisting as she carefully worked herself down.  After a few moments, and with a loud suck, Jack was in, and in heaven.  His babysitter’s inside was like a black hole, suctioning tremendously against his titanic thickness.  Elizabeth lowered herself rigidly, flexing her massive thighs and ass as she moved.  Streams of her milk began spraying uncontrollably from her distended paps as though they were blown gaskets, painting Jack and the floor with her warm, sweet-smelling cream.
	Elizabeth rose and fell over Jack’s cock, supporting herself with bewildering strength.  Every motion brought from her a beaten moan.  She looked like a madwoman, with a slack jaw and eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as she fucked Jack’s enormous knob.  Jack tried to savor each tight, fleshy slide, tasting the short streams of air that slipped into his mouth while Elizabeth forced herself against him.  His dick’s swollen cap might have gotten stuck if she tried to pull herself free, but Elizabeth seemed to be enjoying herself too thoroughly to give it up.  Jack grunted as his clear strands of juice rolled out of Elizabeth’s stretched pussy down what was visible of his shaft.
	Much to Jack’s surprise, Elizabeth actually did unfasten herself from his cock.  His beast squirted a sudden rope of glassy liquid as his sitter popped free and laid herself down atop him, pillowing his body with her overflowing breasts.  Craning down, Elizabeth set her lips against Jack’s, pinning him into a kiss.  Her tongue flew into his throat, and explored his wet mouth.  Jack tried to give back his best effort, but was too busy trying to breathe to fully devote himself to the task.
	Elizabeth smacked her lips against his one final time, and hefted a luscious tit, lifting the bloated nipple to her mouth.  She gave the pouting nub a circling lick, cleaning up the bit of milk surrounding it, and then dropped the enormous mammary onto Jack’s face.  He wasn’t quite prepared for how heavy it would be, and tried to cry out as it smacked painfully against him, only to be muffled by the smothering flesh.  Jack lifted Elizabeth’s milker, finding her nipple, and set the spongy pap into his mouth.
	Sucking hungrily and flicking the tip of his tongue against Elizabeth’s nipple, Jack immediately tapped her many thick streams of milk, swallowing every sleepy dreg as it burst forth.  Her other tit jiggled and jostled loosely, leaving its milk against the carpet in large, dark spots.  Elizabeth looked down at him with blissful tears in her eyes, smiling gratefully.  Jack felt her grinding her pelvis against his abdomen, pressing her huge, powerful thighs against him as she gyrated back and forth.  With every heave of her body, Jack’s towering shaft briefly nestled into Elizabeth’s huge ass, fitting snugly into the warm crevasse.
	“Augh!”
	The sudden cry halted both Jack and Elizabeth.  Their eyes locked for a short moment, then flew over to Ash, who was back on her elbows and panting deeply.  Her face was bright red and still covered in Jack’s cum, with an overwhelmed, perhaps frightened expression.  The petite girl’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her body arching with every loud gasp.
	Jack then saw that Ash’s nipples were rather visible through her shirt, poking through the fabric like small eyes.  He stared, mesmerized by their pertness, when something else nabbed his attention.  Against the fabric of her tee, Ash’s breasts seemed to suddenly puff outward, about the size and shape of a pair of sugar cookies.  Trying to comprehend what he’d just seen, Jack could only reaffix his stare as Ash’s chest continued to slowly swell, pressing against her shirt, growing and expanding like a pair of water balloons.
	Ash gasped and groaned in anguish as her boobs swelled larger.  They inched past the size of oranges, then grapefruits, then volleyballs.  Jack felt his cock hit an all new hardness as he watched Ash’s growing body with erotic fascination.  Elizabeth’s pussy, pressed against Jack’s belly, grew hotter and wetter as the spectacle carried on, while her milk continued to trickle into the carpet without any sort of suction to draw it forth.
	Ash’s nipples were like bullets, piercing angrily against her stretched shirt as her newly-huge tits pancaked over her slim body.  It was then that Jack realized the tiny Asian girl's ass and thighs were filling out, just like her chest, expanding like slow-rising dough and stretching the seams of her skinny jeans to critical tension.  While Jack merely stared on, deeply, wetly aroused, Ash's body was being transformed into a mirroring of Elizabeth's own juicy form.
	A loud series of pops shot off of Ash's jeans, as her seams at last burst apart.  Her supple thighs overflowed from the gaps, still thickening and expanding.  The girl's t-shirt was stretched wide across her blossoming tits, lifted above her flat belly.  Small snaps crackled down the seams beneath Ash's arms, signaling her shirt's imminent end.
	Then, all at once, Ash's entire wardrobe, sans shoes, exploded from her overgrown, over-fertilized figure, raining to the floor in ripped tatters.  Bouncing free, Ash’s giant tits slapped heavily against her ribs and abs, jiggling softly as they flew.  Her naked pussy glistened beneath the V of her loins, framed by her sexy, massively-sculpted thighs.  Ash's gasps still whispered through the quiet air, betraying her own fierce stimulation.  Jack wondered silently if his cum could possibly have triggered such a sudden, miraculous growth.
	Elizabeth climbed across Jack’s body, dragging her dangling udders across his face and keeping her loins pressed to his chest.  Beneath his sitter’s overbearing, he got an upside-down picture of her reaching for Ash, setting a gentle hand against one of the depleted-looking girl’s fat tits.  Ash inhaled sharply, letting Elizabeth’s fingers explore and sink into her swollen breast.  Her brown nipples, also larger from her growth, stood firmly outward, goosebumped and quivering with each rise and fall of her chest.  Elizabeth’s pelvis slid further up Jack’s body, nestling in the space between his neck and chin.
	Not needing any of Elizabeth’s urging, Jack stuck out his tongue and touched it against her burning womanhood.  Elizabeth grunted softly, immediately grinding herself deeper into Jack’s face.  Jack eagerly got to work, trailing his tongue along the moist lips of her hot pussy, catching her intoxicating flavor with each excited tastebud.  The sitter’s legs squeezed against his ears, keeping him in a cushiony hold, forcing his tongue to continue.  He could feel his cock positively oozing his juices, which rolled slowly and hotly down his two-foot shaft and pooled against his bursting balls.  Part of him wanted to keep jacking his out-swollen rod, but was prevailed over by his want to clutch to Elizabeth’s fat, perfect ass.  His hands and arms sank into the girl’s ludicrously ample buttocks, groping wildly at her soft-but-firm flesh.  Elizabeth’s juices ran into Jack’s open mouth and against his loose tongue.  The boy kept up lapping her searing mound, eating her up like dessert.
	Jack heard a squelch, followed by Ash’s sharp moan.  Pausing briefly, he looked up, and saw Elizabeth with her lips over the other girl’s nipple, sucking and feeding from her watermelon-sized jug.  Ash’s hand was busy at her own snatch, twiddling and thrusting herself.  Jack felt his dick burning up while he watched.  There was something so beautifully dirty about these two girls, one against the other, sucking the other’s nipple while she played with herself.  Both their outrageously endowed bodies bounced and jiggled, neither with even the slightest hint of cellulite or stretch-marks upon their creamy, supple flesh.
	Filled with sexual empowerment, Jack decided to give Elizabeth something she loved, and slipped his hands into the cleft of her ass.  The girl released Ash’s tit with a smack of her lips, gasping as the boy’s small fingers slid toward her tight asshole.  Running his fingertips against her wrinkled rim, he quickly took the plunge, pushing his forefinger into the tensed opening.  Elizabeth cried out, flexing her giant ass, as Jack wasted no time inserting his second pointer-finger, forcing her tight hole wider.  The girl’s clit swelled against Jack’s lip, and her juices pulsed out in sudden orgasm.  Jack swiftly reengaged his tongue, drinking up Elizabeth’s thick, musky flow while another of his fingers wiggled into his babysitter’s ass.  More and more of Elizabeth’s fluids trickled into Jack’s mouth, entrancing him with her sublime flavor.  Each brush of his fingertips against her inner walls brought her enormous buttocks into a hard clench, and forced more of her juice from her loins.
	Hands-free but still unable to resist, Jack’s monumental erection throbbed harshly, swelling to painful massiveness with each full-body beat.  His balls and abdomen pulsed with their telltale ache, and his second orgasm began its run toward his skyward dick.  Jack buried his face into Elizabeth’s mound, not letting his own impending climax avert him.  He licked and ate and drank her pussy as his thick, huge load rose up his shaft like freed dam waters.
	With boiling wetness and a very audible splshhhh, Jack came, squirting his milky semen so high and fast that he could hear it splat against the bedroom ceiling.  He very slightly crooked his fingers within Elizabeth’s ass, forcing her body into a dramatic rock.  Moved by his explosive jets, Jack’s cock swung wildly, spraying his thick, musky seed in all directions.  Rope after rope of boiling, plastering cum squirted out of his club-like penis, slapping loudly against Elizabeth’s naked body and thumping against the already soaked bedsheets nearby.  Nuzzling himself against Elizabeth’s loins, he used the ecstasy of his climax as fuel to power into her.  He nibbled and licked her, while his fingers played tirelessly inside her ass, jerking her around like she was his puppet.
	A couple exhilarating gallons later, Jack had coated another body with his seed, as well as added another juicy layer to the room and bedspread.  He shakily removed his fingers from Elizabeth’s rectum, eliciting a final, noisy sigh from the babysitter, and laid himself flat and shivering against the floor.  Elizabeth backed down, flossing against Jack’s still-solid length and sitting herself between his spread legs.  With a wet hand, she squeezed the neck of Jack’s dick and wrung out the last bits of his juice, licking it away and gulping it down, all while looking him directly in the eye.
	“Jack,” she whispered, “why don’t you give Ash’s new body a good fucking?”
	Jack felt his blush.  Glancing across his shoulder, he saw Ash sitting against the foot of the bed, holding and examining her new udders in her hands.  He wouldn’t say no, of course.  After all, this was his “punishment.”
	Elizabeth crawled around Jack to Ash, taking her by the wrists and pulling her forward onto her hands and knees.  The voluptuous Asian looked at Jack with frightened, still-innocent eyes, but Jack knew not to underestimate her; she’d been all to eager to gorge herself on his cock a few minutes ago.
	Jack lifted himself to his knees and scooted his way around Ash’s waiting body, trailing his eyes along her dramatically curving figure.  Her ass, once small and cute, now stood hugely prominent like a large heart, upheld by equally juicy thighs which curved down into slim knees and calves that were slightly bulkier than before.  Getting himself behind her, Jack feasted his eyes on the roundness before him.  His cock rose to its highest, just obscuring the girl’s visible womanhood.
	Elizabeth moved in front of Ash, also sitting on her knees and giving her bursting chest a short rubdown.  Offering Jack a small nod, the babysitter leaned forward and locked lips with the girl, immobilizing her with a long kiss.  Understanding his cue, Jack reached with both hands and grabbed Ash’s gigantic ass, squeezing her plushness and pulling himself forward until the fat tip of his dick nudged against her vagina.  Ash curved her back and raised her ass higher, welcoming Jack’s tremendous organ as it brushed against her labia.  Keeping firm hold of the girl’s juicy posterior, Jack pressed his hips forward, forcing his way into her, desperate to penetrate the girl’s incredible body.
	With a long squish, Jack’s mass rammed into Ash, hitting against the far end of her pussy.  Breaking her kiss with Elizabeth, Ash threw her head back in an unmuffled scream, shouting out her lungs as Jack’s immense meat-roll filled every possible inch of her.  Although he’d gone as far into Ash as he could, at least a foot-and-a-half of Jack’s dick remained outside.  It was a bit disappointing, but also somewhat satisfying to the young boy, who realized he was so huge he could hardly fit into the girl’s tight pussy.
	Ignoring Ash’s lustful cries, Jack grabbed her by the hips and set off.  He pulled back a few inches, and slammed forward, rocking Ash’s body ahead, jiggling her massive, hanging tits.  Without pausing, the boy quickened, thrusting all he could in and out of the girl’s abused cunt, working his hips back and forth.  Ash’s whole body moved in tandem with Jack’s assault, flexing and jiggling as his thick trunk of a penis fucked her mercilessly.  Jack was moving rapidly, shoving into Ash with such force and such speed that the girl was unable to keep herself on her elbows, and collapsed face-first against the floor.  The boy’s elephant-cock smacked loudly in and out of the girl, sending thick ripples through her bubble ass-cheeks with every push.
	This time, Jack did his best to hold on before unleashing his load.  Never slowing his powerful barrage of thrusts, he bit his lip and tried to refocus his thoughts in a grueling effort to keep his cum inside.  His balls throbbed agonizingly, weeping for release.  Overflowing juices poured out of Ash’s stretched womanhood, splashing down each time the ten-year-old pulled back.  Her thick ass bounced, and Jack pounded.
	Keeping up for a surprising six minutes, Jack finally realized his system could take no more build-up, and needed to be drained before he seriously hurt himself.  Taking firmer handfuls of Ash’s ass, Jack gave the girl a set of three final, mighty thrusts, each eliciting a dull cry from her hoarse throat.  He felt his cum exploding through him much faster than before, and pressed his fist-sized glans angrily against Ash’s back wall.
	The first fire-hosing rope came inside Ash, almost instantly spraying out the sides as it overfilled her.  Jack rasped for breath as the most intense orgasm he’d had so far ripped through him, thundering out of his cock like a pearly ocean.  Despite the powerful pressure against him, he held inside Ash’s pussy, pumping gallon after gallon of his completely opaque, jelly-thick cum into her.  Every vein on his shaft was as thick as a sharpie marker, and throbbed visibly with  each wet, squishy gout he squirted forth.  Every ungodly cumshot sent more of his seed backfiring out of Ash, creating a massive, cloudy-white puddle between her knees.  Jack came and came, his young body pouring everything it had into his mind-crushing climax.
	Finally, a handful of minutes later, Jack’s gush abated, and he slipped exhaustedly out of Ash’s punished snatch.  As his softening cock came loose, huge, mug-filling globs of Jack’s semen dribbled out of her slack opening, splattering atop the already impressive pool on the floor.  Jack was on his back again, able to do little more than stare at the ceiling while he came down from his over-sexed high.  His huge, sausage-like dick rolled stickily against his bare thigh, receding only slightly.  Ash, he sensed was completely out, silent and unconscious against the carpet.  Elizabeth could be heard stumbling back to her feet.
	“It’s…” Elizabeth was out of breath.  “It’s almost time…Annelise is going to be home soon…”
	Jack wanted to react, but his body couldn’t.  He remained stuck to the floor, unable to even feel his muscles, much less move them.  Elizabeth’s shadowy figure stepped around him, collecting her clothes and redressing herself before exiting the room and shutting the door.  Letting his head loll to the side, he could make out Ash’s blurry, collapsed form, still leaking his milky dollops.
	The girl had been very good, he thought.  It had been lucky her body had suddenly grown out, though.  Jack wondered again whether his semen could possibly have been responsible for the changes, but had nothing more than blind speculation to rely upon.  He let his eyes settle on Ash’s still upturned ass, magnificent and heart-shaped, while his lids fluttered closed.
	It was still a good day.

	Fyr had watched everything through her particle binoculars, allowing her to witness the bedroom scene from her parked car.  Her jeans and panties were around her ankles, and both hands were furiously rubbing her soaking pussy.  It had been a really good show, and she hadn’t been remotely able to keep herself from masturbating without stop after its end.  Stroking her most sensitive area, she triggered a fourth squirting climax, hosing the floor-mat.
	Diana was waiting, she thought.  If she could just make her report, then she could get back to fingering herself…
	Fyr froze as she saw the door to the Prince house open, and Elizabeth step through.  Ducking in her seat, she clamored for the phone in the passenger seat.  Finding it, she thumbed the center key and pressed the speaker to her ear.
	“Diana,” she hissed, “it worked.  The three of them engaged.”
	A breath of silence preceded Diana.  “Perfect.”
	“The sitter girl has just come out of the house, though.  She’s—”
	She was cut short by the passing of a long, yellow vehicle, whose engine purred noisily as it stopped near her.  The long car’s side door folded open, and released a pair of young children.  One of them, she saw, was the youngest Prince child, Annelise, whom she’d seen in Diana’s briefing file.  The vehicle roared with new life, and as quickly as it had arrived, continued its way down the street.  Fyr peeked over the edge of the car door at the Prince girl, who moved toward the babysitter.  She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing Elizabeth was only waiting for Annelise to arrive home.
	“She’s going back inside,” Fyr murmured.
	“I see,” Diana chuckled after a moment.  “Well done, Fyr.  It should be very interesting to see where things proceed from here.”Venus & Mars

	Lying low was turning out not to be as much a drag as Clara had imagined it might be.  Arane’s home was very comfortable and inviting, a perfect backdrop against which Clara could hone herself to overcome the uncomfortable titillation of Diana’s pheromonal impression.  Meditation seemed like a viable response to her dilemma; Clara had once learned some very basic meditation techniques from a family friend, and was told that it could place one in control of their own faculties.
	She had been several years out of practice, however, and what little she had learned in no way constituted a mastery of the discipline.  Instead of trying to unearth some latent recollection of everything she’d been taught, she merely did her best to shut out the reality around her until she felt alone, with only her worn psyche for company.  Success was marginal, but gratifying even in its brevity.  When she could turn off the sounds of Arané stirring the cauldrons and Lysyria infusing spellstones with proto-magic, and muzzle the subconscious murmurs urging her to bend to her animalistic cravings, Clara felt mildly at peace.
	It was supposed to be a dose of cold water after her transgression with Lysyria in the bath, but had turned into a rather empowering experience.  Clara sat, legs crossed, on the same sofa upon which she’d woken hours earlier.  She liked to concentrate on the minute throb of her steepled fingertips anytime her concentration was thrown, and used that as a kind of guidepost.  Clara was happy to be getting a grasp on it, though she could feel the telltale itch of her compromised senses right outside her small, mental encapsulation, scratching at her tentative barrier.
	“Clara?”
	The girl opened her eyes and laced her fingers.  Lysyria stood at the living room threshold, staff in hand.  The short device’s emitter pulsed a dim, buttery yellow, as if taking its very first breaths.  Staring at Lysyria, at her lovely, curved figure, challenged Clara not to let her hands fall to her thighs.
	“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the Professor said, taking swaying steps into the room and settling on the ottoman in front of Clara.  The woman’s soft, prominent chest looked as lovely as it had the first time Clara had laid her bemoaning eyes upon its majesty.
	Clara brushed a fingertip against her eyelid, “No, it’s fine, it was nothing.”
	“Are you having any luck?” Lysyria asked, twirling the staff between her thumb and finger.
	Clara sighed.  “Less than I’d like.”
	Offering the girl a soothing smile, Lysyria lifted the staff for Clara to behold.
	“I believe I’ve done it,” the Professor murmured.  “My projections and simulations now all indicate that the spellstone housed in this staff will reverse the effects of Diana’s curse.”
	Clara frowned.  “Simulations?”
	Lysyria’s eyes and fingers wandered across the staff’s embroidery.  “I tested the original curse on several plant samples.  It’s apparently able to instill fertility in flora much in the same way it does Fairies, Faeons, and Humans.”
	Lysyria again held the device near Clara’s eye.
	“I’ve produced a spellstone that was able to delete the specific psycho and physiological alterations attributable to Venus.”
	“Venus?” Clara shifted her crossed legs, inching herself forward.
	“This evil should have a name,” Lysyria supplied, nearly smirking.  “For our purposes, I’m going to call Diana’s original spellstone Venus.  Ours…”
	Flicking open the handstaff’s emitter cone to reveal the energizer circuit, Lysyria offered Clara a look inside.  The merest flake of crystal glimmered golden, bracketed by the wand’s converter strips, beating like a firefly’s heart.
	“Ours is called Mars,” Lysyria said, refastening the emitter with a second, smart flourish.  “Use this staff on anyone Diana’s gotten, and everything is back to normal.  It still houses the Venus crystal too, so we can use it to defend against the Faeons if necessary.”
	“Mars beats Venus,” Clara muttered, letting her eyes briefly glide across Lysyria’s breasts.
	“Well,” Lysyria reacted, “not quite so permanently.  Mars is able to cleanse individuals of Venus’ effects, but it can’t prevent Venus from being reintroduced into a victim’s body.”
	Lolling to side and crashing against the couch, Clara stared at the fireplace’s flickering reflection off of the ceiling.  Her icy feet curled and burrowed into the space between the sofa cushions.  In her heart of anxious hearts, she knew it would all eventually come down to removing Athenon and Diana and their Faeon horde, but such action seemed so insurmountable and unwieldy, it hardly would have been worth trying at all.
	“What about Arané?” Clara asked, switching modes.  “Is she any closer to neutralizing Diana’s pheromone?”
	Lysyria grimaced.  “She’s been having some trouble.  I know she wasn’t lying when she said that Imp pheromones are difficult to purge—”
	The Professor was silenced by a heavy, wooden pounding a couple rooms over.  Clara felt her hairs ready to stand and her heart thump in frightened anticipation.  Apprehension sunk into Lysyria’s face as she stood from her seat, still clutching the staff.
	“Arané!”
	Arané was already in the room, round-eyed and fast-footed, beelining toward Clara.  She set her hands on Clara’s shoulders, directing her upward.
	“There’s a hidden compartment in the wall, here,” Arané hissed, getting Clara to her feet and steering her to the corner of the room.  Thumping the wall with her knuckle, the woman unsealed a trick panel, which opened into a small, empty nook.
	The knocking at the door thundered again through the house.  Lysyria brushed shoulders with Arané, placing her own hands against Clara’s body and moving her into the hidden space.
	“You two stay quiet,” Arané whispered.  “I’ll get rid of them.”
	Clara for some reason wanted to object, but knew it would be no use.  She backed into the alcove, making way for Lysyria as she stepped in after and closed the panel.  Blackness hid them.  Clara’s toes were nudged against Lysyria’s cold heels, still instinctively seeking the woman’s comfort.  A balmy warmth immediately filled their cubicle, rising out of their shared breaths.  Through the wall, Clara heard a door unlatch and skid open.
	Keeping a steadying hand against the wall, she pressed a pointed ear to the soft wood.
	“Can I help you?” Arané muffled past the barrier, sounding rather shaken.
	Several footsteps thudded into the entryway.  The front door was slammed and locked.
	“Is there something you’re looking for?”
	The footsteps diverged, branching to the different areas of the house.  One heavy pair sauntered loudly into the living room, just past Clara’s wall.  Whoever it was, she sincerely hoped they couldn’t hear her bursting heart.
	And despite the sheer direness of the situation, Clara felt the tingle rushing back to her, flickering back to life in her womanhood.  Each split-second of skin-on-skin contact with Lysyria felt like a sharp, stinging prod to her loins.  Stark revisitations to their bath episode came blistering back.  She felt the soft weight of Lysyria’s chest in her hands, and the tight smoothness of the woman’s body against hers.  Clara’s juices stirred angrily, driving her thighs together in rigid arousal.
	“Arané VeVille,” rumbled a threatening, implacable voice.  “Are others here?”
	“Others, no,” Arané replied, sounding as though she were keeping on the heels of someone much larger than herself.  “No, I’ve been too buried in work for guests.”
	The loudest of the feet seemed to stamp into Arané’s kitchen brewery, where the hostess had been working on Clara’s cure.  There was an iron scrape, perhaps a lid being lifted from a cauldron.  Clara rested her ear deeper into the wall, grinding her teeth to ward away the coronating flames broiling below her pelvis.
	“Please, be careful with that,” Arané insisted, resetting Clara’s imagined lid.  “These have to boil for several hours.  I don’t want anything to burn—”
	“Quiet!” barked the overlordly mystery figure.  Arané complied.
	There was quiet for a moment, slowly punctuated by a small sweeping noise.  Clara’s eyes darted through the dark, needing something to spy yet finding nothing.  The strange, almost puffing noise grew slowly nearer, accompanied by the hard falls of a pair of lumbering feet.  Clara’s hand flew to her chest, cupping across her racing heart.  She breathed quickly and quietly, barely taking in adequate amounts of oxygen with each stifled gasp.  The itch in her lower crevice was now more irritating than anything else.
	“Is something wrong?” Arané asked, evidently still in the kitchen.
	There was a creak of wood as a great deal of body weight was momentarily shifted.
	“They are here,” the voice growled.
	Clara swallowed.
	“I don’t know what you’re talking—”
	“The Commander’s essence,” interrupted the intruder.  “Pungent.”
	Clara’s stomach fell as she understood what was happening.  This person, whoever they were, could smell Diana’s pheromone!  The footsteps creaked away from their hiding place, back toward the sound of Arané’s voice.  Immobilizing fear gripped Clara by the throat.
	“Where?” the deep voice asked.
	Clara could hear Arané’s trembling breaths.  “I don’t—”
	But Arané’s sentence abruptly ended in a hard choke.  Clara sprung from the wall, looking across her shoulder to where she knew Lysyria was standing, trying to make silent contact.  The professor was still cloaked in the darkness, though Clara could sense her withheld reflex just through the slight brush of their bare feet.
	“Where!” the voice repeated as something, probably Arané, hit the wall.
	Something different soaked into Clara’s head the instant she heard the cruel thud of body against wood.  Her befuddling arousal exploded into a firestorm of unbridled outrage, drawn toward this individual who’d broken into Arané’s home and now throttled her for information.  She felt a raw hatred, fueled exponentially by the unbearable frustration still growing in her womanhood.  It wasn’t a time to hide, Clara realized.  It was a time to fight back.
	Feeling her own magic rising out of her body into an invisible, volatile aura, Clara switched her heels and in the same moment she put her foot forward, she picked the handstaff from Lysyria's fingers.  
	Whatever the Professor's reaction, it wasn't fast enough to stop her.
	The panel popped and squeaked open under Clara's foot.  She felt Lysyria's firm hand close over her wrist, but with an empowered jerk, she got free, kicking closed the panel behind her.  Setting foot on Arané's plush carpet, she caught quick sight of a buxom Faeon soldier stepping into the living room.
	Their eyes locked.
	“You came to the wrong house.”
	The Faeon’s hand shot to her belt, her wide, sculpted hips shifting, her knee-length dick slapping against her leg.  Clara was faster.  Slashing the wand upward, she fired the spellbolt, striking the woman smack in the abdomen.  The winged soldier toppled backward, crashing against the floor atop her crumpled bat wings.
	As had happened before, Venus instantly took effect.  The Faeon’s cock was steel-hard before she even hit the ground.  Her fat, throbbing member grew, up and up, pumping longer and thicker with each tense second.  The woman howled out, somewhere between agony and bliss, as her veins swelled and bulged, and her gluey pre-ejaculate came out in leaping spurts.  Her huge, meaty thighs were spread wide, showing off the slightest bit of ass beneath her bloated, twitching balls.  Her breasts, small and tight just seconds ago, had grown large and pouty, spilling over her downed form.
	In moments, the Faeon’s moans sharpened into a sustained scream.  Out of her club-like dick squirted rapid, hot pints of milky, ropey seed, twirling into the air and beating down against her bare, tight skin.  Clara’s free hand fell to her clit, teasing its slick hardness, while the rest of her energies kept alert for additional enemies.  She stomped over to the writhing Faeon, plunging into her thick, sexual mist.  Raising an angry foot, she pinned the woman’s sticky, leg-sized dong down to her torso.  Each unseemly gout of cum bulged and rolled hotly beneath Clara’s bare sole, hosing thickly into the soldier woman’s face, turning her shrill sounds into choked gurgles and gluing her long, sable locks into glistening twines.
	Amid the captivating sight and sounds of her target struggling to guzzle down quick mouthfuls of her own cum, Clara flung her head in time to catch another shapely soldier charging into the room, her cock erect and poised.  Using reflexes she didn’t know she had, Clara took a kneel, shifting further weight atop the defeated Faeon’s cum cannon and forcing her agonized wail, and fired an impressive hipshot at the attacker.
	Like the first, the second Faeon was propelled back, thumping into the bookcase by the doorway and toppling forward.  Clara sprung at her, relinquishing the first woman’s dick and releasing the pent up supply in a drowning deluge.  The girl seized the second Faeon by her upper wing, hurling her muscular mass onto her back.  Like water balloons on a set of spigots, the soldier’s tits and cock burst in size, expanding madly, jiggling and swaying by the force of her own accelerated growth.
	Clara briefly noticed on the bookcase a small, clay jug capped with a cork.  Seized with inspiration, she snatched the container and popped loose the stopper.  The Faeon’s distending cock bubbled and oozed copious dollops of glassy pre-ejaculate, signaling her impending eruption.  Moved by fury and a powerful deviance, Clara smacked her hand against the tip of the Faeon’s purplish glans, shoving the cork firmly into her puckered urethra.  The woman instantly bellowed, arching her back and tensing every visible muscle on her body.  Her razor fangs were bared, but seemed so harmless as she was then.  Congested, pearly streams thinly escaped past the sides of the tightly-lodged peg, but not fast enough to prevent the visible buildup swelling within her already substantial girth.
	“Stop!”
	Clara pivoted with lightning agility, already pointing the staff, the fingers on her other hand still slipped into her desirous slit.  Looming in the adjacent doorway was a gigantic woman, statuesque and winged.  Her hair, cut in the same geometric style as the other Faeons, didn’t quite reach her rocky shoulders.  Her body, muscular beyond any other individual Clara had ever seen, was nearly cello-shaped, slim and toned about the waist and chest, but flaring unbelievably at the hips.  Her thighs alone could have crushed steel, not to mention bone.  This woman’s armor appeared somewhat more formidable, shielding her abdomen and, surprisingly, her penis.  Gilded and heavy, her codpiece looked capable of stopping meteors.
	And, in her powerful hand, she had Arané by the hair.
	“Clara Thraughte,” the beastly woman growled.
	Clara kept the staff aimed high, sliding her slick fingers out of herself.  “Who the fuck are you?”
	The woman gave Arané a small yank, gaining from her a small groan.  Arané’s eye was black, her neck bruised, and her purple hair frazzled.  The towering woman ran a pair of spread fingers up along the edges of her codpiece.
	“Mistress Agru,” she snarled, bringing Arané’s head against her huge thigh and stroking her cheek with clawed fingers.
	Clara tossed her head slightly, barely noting the thin streams of cum arcing against her legs from her corked victim.  Agru held no staff.  Clara could take her.  Shaking her hesitation, she flicked the wand upward, discharging the Venus into Agru’s chest.
	The pinkish spell burst against Agru’s chest plate, and dissipated into a tendriling mist.  Agru sneered, crooking her fingers against Arané’s scalp.
	“Stand down,” the Faeon mistress grumbled, tossing Arané into the floor.
	Clara took two steps back before bumping into the sofa.  She flailed her arm, fiercely firing bolt after bolt of Venus at Agru, each vanishing in a vaporous snap against her provocative figure.  As Clara lost her footing, the Faeon mistress clomped in closer, within arm's length.
	Agru laid a massive hand against the head of the staff, and guided it softly away.  Clara wanted to swallow the lump in her throat, but was too caught within the titanic lady's downcast, tunnel-like pierce.
	"Strong," Agru murmured, clenching Clara's wrist with menacing power, forcing her to drop the wand.  The woman's leathery, black wings curtained around the smaller girl in a sinister embrace.  Clara felt her captor's exposed abs press into hers like a steel washboard.  Agru eased a domineering thigh against Clara's still-buzzing womanhood, all but pinning her where she stood.
	Placing her meaty, calloused hand on Clara's reddened cheek, the woman flashed her fangs betwixt her olive lips, "But we are stronger—“
	Agru immediately careened back with a short grunt.  The Faeon's disturbed balance was all the opening Clara needed to slip aside and retrain the handstaff.  Slung against Agru's throat, Arané seized the giant woman, bringing her back with her weight.  Clara didn't dare fire now, for fear of striking Arané by mistake.  The struggling pair tipped and swayed across the carpet, neither having any apparent advantage over the other.
	But, a momentary opportunity appeared, as Arané steered Agru to face Clara, shielding herself behind the Mistress’ broad back.  Perhaps, and very likely so, another spellbolt wasn’t going to penetrate Agru’s defenses, but it was all Clara could do now.  She took aim at Agru’s bare abs.
	A loud squelch and pop shook her focus for all of a half-second, but it was long enough.  With rocketing force, the cork Clara had plugged into the previous soldier’s cock punched against her cheek, instantly followed by an angry, hot tsunami of backed-up cum, gushing and flying out of the woman’s darkly-swollen shaft and head, caking against Clara’s face and body.
	Clara stumbled, coughing and gagging as the wild seed hurled into her throat.  Her eyes narrowed and glazed, partially from the great globs splashing against her head, filling her nose with their savory musk.  She gritted her teeth, struggling while her pussy throbbed and burned not to swallow any of the projectile spooge landing her way.  Nothing moved her.  In that long moment of vulnerability, Clara stood slack-kneed, accepting the erupting, milky shower upon her bare skin.  
	She loved it.  
	As much as she knew she should hate it, Clara loved being target practice for these lately massive cumshots.  She loved the syrupy thickness, the boiling wetness, in such huge amounts as they were coming.  She loved guzzling it down, comfortably stomaching it with each satisfying gulp.  It almost didn’t matter anymore that it might have constituted abuse; Clara felt happy to have the seed of others upon and inside of her.
	Happy enough that she did not react as Agru finally threw Arané to the floor, as the Faeon drew her own handstaff and pointed it, executioner-style, at Arané’s crumpled form, or as Agru fired, lighting Arané’s body with Venus’ telltale pink aura…
	The pearly cum hose died away from Clara’s immobilized stance, its pressure lost.  Past her jizz-laden lashes, the girl observed, fuzzy-eyed, as Arané cried a strong, lustful cry.  Arané’s slim, slender figure jolted and bucked on the floor, while her hands crawled blindly to her petite breasts, knowing something was about to change her.  Instantly, the woman’s body embarked on its fantastic growth.  Arané’s boobs rose like slowly-inflated pads, resisting the holds she kept on them.  Their flesh grew so obviously softer and more expansive, soufflé-ing within her cupped palms.  Meanwhile, her hips flared ever so steadily, pronouncing themselves well beyond Arané’s still slim waist.  Her thighs, too, filled and fattened, though they retained their perfect, toned skin and beguiling curved shape.  Arané grunted and moaned and cried out, one hand squeezing a heavy handful of tit-flesh, the other shielding her womanhood between her juicy, touching thighs.  Rivulets of fresh milk bubbled and ran from her fattened nipples, meandering down the vast slopes of her over-blossomed jugs and dripping into the rug.  Arané’s hips, wide like two watermelons stood next to one another, twitched and convulsed, slapping her thighs and knocking her knees together with each orgasmic wince.
	It had been too much for Clara, who dropped to her knees, shivering in the aftershock of her self-inflicted orgasm.  Her fingers lost their rigidity, slipping out of her slit in time to catch her from falling face-down into the carpet.  Gasping, she felt her soul nearly wither as the reality of the past minutes at last reached her.
	She could have saved Arané, and now…
	A muscular hand grabbed Clara by the shoulder, hoisting her to her feet.  She was eye-leveled to Agru’s brassiered chest, though she felt unable to focus on anything within her vision.
	“You…win…” she barely articulated.
	Clara’s arms were pulled behind her back by an unseen set of hands and cuffed.
	“Take her,” Agru barked at the individual behind Clara.  “And collect the infected.”
	Feeling a hard prod at her lower back, Clara tripped forward, marching beneath the reins of her overseer.  She was led through the hall into the entryway, and then out through the open door.  The sunlight nearly blinded her, punishing her dark-adjusted eyes.  Squinting tiredly, she allowed herself to be driven to the edge of whatever terrace they were on, where a long, somewhat flat air vehicle was moored.  The unseen pair of hands shoved her up the small ladder hanging from the skiff, onto its deck, and then lowered her into a sit.  Clara’s stupor was unbroken until, with a creak of the entire vehicle, she sensed Agru step aboard.  She looked up, still slit-eyed, at the Mistress’ columnar thighs and enormous bubble-ass, eclipsing the harsh sun rays.  The fact that Clara had her hands cuffed behind her became quite a bit more uncomfortable as her loins rekindled, spreading their tingles up and down her legs.
	“Sanctum,” Agru commanded, “hastily.”
	The skiff pulled away into the open sky, wind whipping into Clara’s hair as she was accelerated back into captivity.  Now what, she thought.  She had no staff, no reliable conscience, no Lysyria…
	What chance did she have of making another escape?Friday, 3:17pm

	"You look different."
	Fantastic, Elizabeth thought, grimacing.  Annelise doesn't say two words to me on a normal day, and now, she just has to start.  
	The babysitter, whose ludicrous figure was at least partially concealed beneath her baggy Nift-Thrift wardrobe and the trench coat (for good measure), spun around, holding on a plate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she'd prepared for her young ward.
	"Well," Elizabeth trailed, setting the plate in front of Annelise.  The young girl sat at the very same table Jack had hosed down just hours earlier.   "I think I had an allergic reaction to something, sweetie."
	At least Annelise seemed to care more about eating her sandwich than hearing Elizabeth's explanation.  The girl munched quietly, never establishing eye contact with the sitter.  Elizabeth spun back around to the sink to rinse the knife, racking for some off topic to further draw the girl's attention.
	“Do you have homework?”
	Annelise swallowed a bit of sandwich.  “Yeah…”
	Elizabeth curled her lip, “Do you need any help with it?”
	“Maybe,” Annelise murmured, returning to her food.
	Good enough, Elizabeth thought.  Her breasts and nipples ached horribly, full to bursting with her milk.  Resting them slightly on the sink’s rim offered a very slight relief, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that if not tended to, she would start leaking uncontrollably.  Perhaps helping Annelise with homework wasn’t the wisest choice…
	“Why don’t you get your homework ready, Leesy?” Elizabeth suggested, twirling about and feeling her over-filled tits bounce and jostle beneath their trappings.  “I…need to use the bathroom.”
	As Annelise slid her cute, pink backpack from under her chair, Elizabeth hoofed toward the bathroom, her sore nipples puckering in anticipation.
	Slipping inside and locking the door behind her, the bodacious babysitter tore open the front of her coat, her udders jiggling against the fabric of her tent-sized t-shirt.  In a flash, she had the shirt bunched above her mountainous tits, letting them sway freely.  Elizabeth examined herself in the sink mirror, still finding herself bewildered by her own ultra-curvaceous, ultra-lewd proportions.  Her hips bowled downward as though her body were an upturned champagne glass.  Her boobs, like huge, fluid-filled sacks, somehow managed not to hang below her navel, keeping enough tautness that they jutted forward more than they dipped, but were all the same soft and squeezable.
	A mean pair of twinges snapped behind her nipples, jolting Elizabeth forward against the sink.  She beckoned down, gasping as the undersides of her mounds touched the cold porcelain.  Goosebumps sprung across her areolae, and her nipples swelled nearly to the size of plums.  Cradling her milkers in her arms, she set her thumbs and forefingers on her anxious paps.
	Mmph!
	Elizabeth bit down as her engorged nips ejaculated her cream into the sink in a thick volley.  There was so much of it, all rushing and pushing through her ducts, exploding out of her nipples in orgasmic gouts.  She ground her pelvis up against the counter, shifting her thighs back and forth, wiggling her enormous ass and feeling the seat of her pants wedging between her cheeks.  Adjusting her pinch, she renewed her flow, spraying greater, whiter streams of her milk, some of which escaped the sink and sprinkled against the mirror.  Elizabeth alternated tugging on her paps, milking herself like a cow, rolling her bloated nipples between her thumb and fingertips.  Her nectar tinkled against the porcelain, swirling into the drain in a cloudy spiral.  Every single drop delivered a euphoric sting, energizing the tightly-packed and eager nerves all throughout her vast breasts.  Lactating had become as good to Elizabeth as any orgasm, though the two typically came hand-in-hand.  While she groped and pinched herself, she rolled and rubbed her thighs together, tipping herself into a more traditional climax.
	Elizabeth came, and once more felt her every molecule reach out for a higher plane of pure, unfettered sexual stimulation.  She leaned forward, laying as much as she could of her tits into the sink, stuffing it full.  The cool surface of the basin sent eliciting shocks through her nipples, the slick metal faucet reinvigorating the goosebumps on her plentiful boob flesh.  Swept by frightening lust and frustration, she pressed the heels of her palms into her muffin-topping jugs and pushed herself down.
	Where before her milk had sprayed, now it flooded.  So immense and overflowing was her cream that it exploded past the near vacuum-seal she’d created with her chest, flying from beneath her tits out the sides of the sink.  Elizabeth squeezed the milk out of her body as if she were forcing air from a package, driving the pleasure center of her mind into a dangerous-seeming place.
	Though she’d relieved her pressure, Elizabeth only wanted to continue.  Her nipples tingled and twitched, mashed as they were into the sink.  But, she had to go back.  Annelise was waiting.
	How Elizabeth wished she could have shut herself back into a room with Jack…
	The young man might have lacked too much experience, but he knew how to perfectly satisfy Elizabeth’s cravings.  Or at least, Elizabeth knew how to manipulate him into hitting her tender spots.  His god-like cock had loudly become the object of her worship.  There certainly was a deity-like quality to the kid, being so small-bodied yet sporting a womb-breaking battering ram.  Elizabeth wondered, amused, if there was perhaps some ancient myth regarding such a character, and whether Jack was now his avatar.
	Dragging her milk-makers out of the sink and giving them a gentle rubdown with a nearby washcloth, Elizabeth took one last look at her fertile reflection and covered herself with the shirt and discarded jacket.  Her fingers briefly landed upon her buzzing crotch, but she forced herself to withdraw.  
	She could at least save herself for Jack.

	Alone, Jack stroked himself, racing his hands up and down the length of his almost morbidly large cock.  He needed to empty himself.  Each violent, squirt-tastic discharge left him a lately diminishing refractory window hovering around eight or so minutes.  Jack's balls, purplish and bursting, screamed up through his body, begging to be relieved.  It was torturous, having masturbation become a need in his life.
	But, he thought he could live with it, if only for the reality-blotting, sheet-staining, fluid-draining orgasms.  Those were great.  Jack was finding himself more and more turned on by the thought of how much semen he'd shoot the next time.  Indeed, when he released more, his orgasms were longer and more intense, and of course there was the sense of smug superiority he felt when he ejaculated enough to drown a person.  He sometimes wondered where he was keeping it all, but he didn't let himself get to caught up in the logic of his situation.  His dick was as long and as thick as his arm—was there really any point in trying to rationalize?
	He was holding every breath, furiously pumping himself, wringing out long, swinging ropes of pre-ejaculate with each long choke.  His face had grown hot and frustrated, and his lungs tired out.  His stamina was faltering as he worked his arms, and despite his copious pre-load, he felt no closer to climaxing than he had when he'd started.  Something felt wrong, as though his body were demanding something more than what he was providing.
	Jack thought back, and relived his most recent session with Elizabeth and also Ash, whom they’d gotten out by giving her a set of Elizabeth’s newly purchased clothing and directing down the upstairs porch outside the master bedroom.  Surely going back to an experience during which he’d done not one but two huge-boobed, huge-assed girls would be enough to get him going.  He began alternating his hands, pumping with one, then the other, thinking about the way Elizabeth had forced her incredible body upon him, the way Ash had screamed when he’d stuck his enormity inside of her.  Jack remembered the sight, sound, and smell of his exploding cum, overflowing and streaming from inside of Ash, leaping through the air and landing wherever it did.  More juicy strands of his pre-cum dribbled forth, webbing across the bedsheets, but it all still felt rather inadequate.
	Maybe, Jack thought, maybe it was him.  Maybe he’d passed a point with his last interpersonal encounter, to where he wouldn’t be able to hit the mark himself any longer.  Maybe, at last, it would take nothing less than another person to offer him release.
	That could be a serious problem, Jack mused, especially after the weekend once Elizabeth was gone and he was back in the care of his parents.  He felt sick.  The reality of his parents coming home in two days was a problem in and of itself.  Add to that the prospect of losing all access to a friend like Elizabeth with whom he could engage, and the situation seemed pretty bleak.
	One problem at a time, he guessed.  That’s what his mother always told him when he was worried.  Right now, he needed to cum, and he needed to do it soon.  Elizabeth probably wasn’t an option right now, as she was busy watching after Annelise, and Ash was already gone to parts unknown.
	So…who did that leave…?
	Jack made a small grimace.  This was talking about finding someone entirely new, to whom he’d have to either propose or beg that they bump uglies—a big ugly and a little ugly—and then from whom he’d have to just walk away, preferably without alerting Elizabeth to his whereabouts.
	Well…Elizabeth had strung along Ash easily enough, he guessed.  How had she done that?  There was just the moral dilemma of going behind Elizabeth’s back.  Jack had no wish to hurt her feelings, but he was at code red!
	The twin pulses of his angry, impatient jewels restated the urgency of the situation.  Jack’s mind raced, drawing up a list of possible candidates.
	The Princes lived on Cowrie Street, which had six houses, including his own on one side, and five on the other.  But how many of his neighbors did he know?  And how many knew him…?  Jack rested his knuckle against his lips, keeping a hand atop his huge, anxious knob.  Of all the women who lived nearby, who was alone, reasonably attractive, and willing to take a foot-and-a-half long beast for the good of a hapless young man?
	Ms. Delaney would have been alone, but Jack didn’t find her very appealing, nor did he imagine she’d be sport enough to weather a pelvic adjustment.  Mrs. Jordaine was rather attractive, and was always out jogging, so Jack imagined she’d have some stamina to spare.  However, she was married, and Mr. Jordaine was intimidating.
	Not Mrs. Hatchett, not Mrs. Toulon, not Ms. Andrews…
	But Jack paused thoughtfully.  Cowrie Street ended at an intersection with Seacomb Lane, and right where those streets met—
	Ms. Ronstadt.
	Theresa Ronstadt lived in the house looking straight down Cowrie Street, and seemed to fit all of Jack’s criteria (the third would remain dubious for anyone, he realized).  She was a good friend of Jack’s mother, and a mother herself of a baby girl, though the father had left them while she was pregnant.  That again brought up a moral dilemma for Jack.  Ms. Ronstadt surely didn’t need to be toyed with anymore than—
	Jack winced, spilling nearly a cup of built-up pre-ejaculate as his balls throbbed and cock flexed.  Morals would have to wait.
	Theresa was very, very pretty, and knew Jack well.  Of course, she knew him as Melanie Prince’s little boy…
	No time to second guess himself.  Jack hoisted himself from his bed, iron monster-cock swinging along just a half-second behind and whipping a smaller cord of his juice to the floor.  Stepping back into his sweatpants and pulling his shirt over his head, he cradled his rod to his torso and covered himself.  It wasn’t enough, he realized, glancing at the mirror.  It looked like he had a party-sized sub sandwich under his tee, if one could ignore the fat, shiny tip peeking past his collar.  Scanning his room, Jack spotted something he could use amid the clump of discarded clothing near the foot of his bed.  It was his arctic jacket, and upon short investigation, he determined it must have been on the outskirts the last time he’d accidentally shot a load off onto the pile.  He slipped into the coat, zipping and buttoning it to the top so that it covered the bottom of his chin and, more importantly, his eagerly bloated glans.  His shaft still bulged in a way that made it seem like Jack had put on a bit of weight in front, but one would hardly have suspected the truth.
	Briefly replacing his sweats with some roomier, bulkier snowboard pants from his closet, Jack was satisfied with his concealing mountain-rider look, and crept from his room into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him.  Neither Elizabeth nor Annelise were anywhere in sight, so he toed his way back into his parent’s closed room, hardly making a noise.  The room still smelled of their sex, prompting Jack to take a short, nostalgic whiff.  It was another room Elizabeth would have to clean, but at least she’d been the one to start it.
	Jack unlatched the sliding glass door to the porch, sidling past the mostly-drawn curtains onto the power-washed planking.  Here it would be tricky, he thought.  The stairs from the second floor to the ground could be seen from the living room windows if you were at the right angle, and Jack wasn’t sure where in the house Elizabeth and Annelise were.  Creeping to the head of the wooden steps, he got himself mentally prepared and lowered into a squat.
	The center seam on the inside of his snow pants immediately dug against his massive testes, shooting violent jolts of pain through his abdomen.  A squirt of his fluid jumped from his pressed rod, trickling hotly against his collar and chest.  Jack bit his lip and, steadying himself, got into a pseudo-crabwalk and crept down the stairs.  Hopefully he’d be down low enough to avoid being seen by anyone who might have been in the living room, but this was all he could think to do.  As he traveled, he stared straight down into his jacket, seeing his outswollen cockhead staring right back at him, gurgling and twitching.  Making it to the concrete foundation, he eased back to his feet and stole around the corner to his right, into the small space between the end of the house and the picket fence.  He should have been in the clear now.
	Still taking care around the windows, Jack came around the house and onto the sidewalk.  Perfect.  He set off to the end street corner, keeping a gentle enough pace so not to let his too-sensitive fruit be moved in any uncomfortable way.  The autumn air was cold and harsh on his throat, but had no quelling effect on his throbbing erection.  At least his body-pillow-behaving dick was keeping him otherwise nice and warm.  He passed the other houses, nearing the corner.
	Theresa’s car was parked in the driveway.
	Jack’s heart picked up its pace, part excited, part terrified.  This was going to be an everything or nothing sort of thing, and he couldn’t possibly bring himself to imagine what else the “nothing” might have in store for him.  He glanced both ways down Seacomb Lane, and crossed the street, hands in his side pockets.
	Jack stepped up the driveway, across the stone pathway to the front door, onto the doorstep…
	His finger paused as he reached for the doorbell, as the last moment of doubt crossed Jack’s mind.  A sharp, murderous twinge, bulleting out of his balls and up all the many inches of his shaft, was the last reminder he needed that this was for his own good.
	Ding-dong-ding-dong…
	And Jack stood for the following seconds, straight and rigid as the mass he hid between his torso and jacket.  At first he heard nothing, but after some moments, he heard definite, muffled footsteps approaching.  He felt himself turn cold, his fight or flight instincts strangling each other to the floor.  
	The door handle ratcheted.
	Rough wood scraped against the doorframe, and it was open.  Theresa stood, maybe two heads taller than him.  She wore a black sweater blouse and dark-blue skinny jeans, both accentuating and flaunting her slender, graceful curves.  Her hair was a rich mahogany, waving down just past her shoulders, framing her soft face, barely disguised by any sort of makeup.  Jack was thankful, for the moment, that she couldn't see his enormous schlong flex beneath his layers
	"Hello, Jack!" She said with an exuberant smile.  She was nice, too.  Despite the bad things that had happened to her, Jack knew no kinder woman.
	"H-Hu-Hi..." Jack muttered, glowing red.
	Theresa's smile didn't shrink.  "How are you?"
	Jack stared at his feet.  "I'm...uh...I..."
	An infant's cry several rooms into the house interrupted Jack's incoherence.  He finally was able to look up as Theresa turned with a hint of concern on her face.
	"Oh," she said, clearly ready to spring into action but equally committed to treating Jack like a guest.  "Come on inside and make yourself at home.  I'll be with you in just a minute."
	She was already off into the house, leaving Jack alone at the doorstep.  Sheepishly, he entered, closing the door.  Some unintelligible music was playing somewhere, but the house was otherwise quiet.  Jack waited in the entry hall, standing awkwardly with his hands still buried in his coat pockets.  The heat of his mammoth boner was starting to get just a bit too sweltering.
	After a couple quiet minutes, Theresa came tiptoeing around the corner, still wearing her genuine smile.
	"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "Samantha's just having some trouble sleeping."
	Jack nodded wordlessly, unsure of how to respond.
	"So," the young mother resumed, "what brings you around?"
	My blue-balls and your single-mom pussy.
	Holy geez, Jack thought.  That would have been tactless.
	"I, uh..."
	"You know," Theresa again interrupted.  She was nice, but she ran her trap.  "Wait for me in the living room, I have a big tin of cookies a friend gave me."
	And again, she was off.  At least Jack had directions now.  Turning robotically with his dick all but pinned to his upper body, he lumbered into the living room, where two sofas faced a center coffee table.  Shuffling forward, Jack dropped himself onto the sofa to his right, gasping quickly as his balls threatened to burst on impact.  Breathing himself calm, he tried turning his attention to the bookshelves, or the wall portraits, or the bookshelves, or the—
	Huh...she had a lot of books.  So did his own mother, Jack supposed.  He tried thinking, doing the math to figure out how long it might take to read every book in the room.
	“Here we go,” Theresa nearly sang, setting the large, metal container onto the table and removing its lid.  She sat on the sofa opposite him, folding her hands in her lap.
	Jack was frozen.  His cock and balls ached agonizingly, but he had no idea how he was supposed to proceed.  What had he gotten himself into?
	“Is everything okay, Jack?” Theresa asked, snapping him to.
	Jack looked her in her hazel eyes, very slowly letting his own travel down her tight but still-motherly figure.  Her breasts each looked to be about a handful, neatly held in the cups of her bra.  Her waist curved nicely inward before turning out into a lovely set of hips and legs, which were crossed daintily at the knees.  She still didn’t suspect a thing, Jack thought.  How to break it to her…?
	“Are you feeling all right?” she asked, finally looking a little bit concerned.  “You look pale.”
	Jack could only imagine himself the day he first met Theresa.  He’d been taken along by his mother to welcome her to the neighborhood.  His mother had made her a coffee cake.  That was almost two years ago, before she’d had her baby, and before her boyfriend had left, though Jack never met her boyfriend.  He remembered Theresa complimenting his shirt, a long-sleeve tee with a dragon on the front.
	Jack’s mother had told him some time afterward that if he or Annelise were ever in trouble and they, their parents, weren’t there, they could always trust Theresa.
	Time to see if that was true.
	“Jack?”
	Jack was on his feet, stiff as a board.  Theresa stared up at him for a beat before rising herself.  Her face was worried, like it was her own child behaving strangely.
	“Aren’t your parents on their trip?” she asked, starting to sidestep around the table.  “You have a babysitter, right?  Do you need me to call—”
	Choosing not to waste time with words, Jack took his chance and quickly undid his coat.  The zipper came all the way down and apart, and with a shrug, he let it fall to the floor.  Theresa was stuck mid-sentence as her eyes focused in and attempted to interpret what she was seeing in front of her.  There could hardly be any denying it, Jack thought.  She would know.
	Jack’s cock bulged hugely beneath his shirt and above his collar, positively drooling his backed-up pre-cum all down his t-shirt.  He locked eyes with Theresa, feeling a sudden empowerment as her own face grew ghostly pale, as she came to grips with the reality that was Jack’s throbbing, overgrown manhood.
	A tiny croak escaped Theresa’s throat.  Jack held his head high.
	“I need help,” Jack stated calmly.  “Last night, my…I grew like this.”
	The woman looked as though she were about to throw up.  Jack could see her trying not to gag or make any sudden movements whatsoever, as though his meat hammer might leap out and attack her.
	Good, Jack thought.  She feared it.  The woman who once thought Jack was the cutest little boy she’d ever met was morbidly frightened of the monster he now sported.
	“After that,” Jack went on, barely drawing her eyes away from his cock, “I started cumming a lot. I needed to cum…a lot.”
	In a fluid motion, Jack lifted his t-shirt from his body, and over his head.  His dick dropped forward, still at a roughly forty-five degree upward angle, pointed right at Theresa’s face.  Her eyes had grown red and puffy, as if she were on the verge of crying.
	“I need you to help me with that,” Jack finished, trying his best to sound authoritative as he dropped his pants and stood fully nude and packing in front of his mother’s friend.
	Theresa gasped a very distraught, very frightened gasp.  Her hand nearly covered her mouth, but she seemed fairly immobilized and didn’t quite seem able to bring it down.  She took a wobbly step back, and collapsed back into the sofa.
	“J-Jack…” she rasped.  “How…?”
	Jack approached her, rounding the table, leaving a thick drop of pre-cum on its surface with each step.  Theresa might have cowered away had she the power to do so, but she was trapped in Jack’s web now.  The boy sidled in front of her, clutching his immense, slick shaft to keep the mass from touching her right away.  Drowning in her own dread, Theresa couldn’t avert her eyes.
	“Here…” Jack said, guiding the fat tip of his cock near to Theresa’s quivering lips.  “Try it out.”
	Theresa made no movement, but kept her mouth open.  Jack, knowing she wasn’t likely to obey his commands, decided to seize the initiative.  Bringing a foot up onto the sofa cushion, he leaned himself forward, slowly driving his distended member up to Theresa’s lips as the woman started to hyperventilate.
	And, just like that, it was in.  Theresa could offer no resistance.  The enormous head of Jack’s cock touched the insides of her lips and the tip of her tongue, and, in that instant alone, released a salty squirt of pre-ejaculate into the woman’s throat.  Theresa coughed and choked, but Jack’s hand caught her by the back of the head, keeping her in place as he pushed himself in deeper.  The woman’s eyes were rolling into her skull while Jack violated her gob, soaking in the heat and Theresa’s fearful vibrations.
	This was so, so, SO bad.  The tiniest part of Jack’s brain begged him to stop it all now.  Theresa was a trusted friend and a single mother of a baby girl.  There was nothing more wrong than what he was now forcing her to do.  How was anything good going to come from—
	But Jack easily quieted his struggling conscience.  The hand clutching Theresa ran gently over the top of her head, feeling the soft silkiness of her pretty hair before abruptly seizing an angry handful of it and bringing her face upward.  Jack stepped his other foot up onto the sofa, straddling above the devastated woman with his unworldly cock still lodged tightly in her throat and his fat balls dangling heavily ahead of her chest.  Confused, frightful tears poured from her eyes, mucous from her nostrils.  Her lips were stretched outrageously around Jack’s incredible girth like a thin, rubber bracelet.  Inside her mouth, Jack’s monster throbbed and pulsed, more and more of his juice stranding from her lower lip.
	Leaning Theresa against the back of the sofa with a small nudge of his pelvis, Jack freed himself from her oral vice, still bridged to her by a shiny, low-hanging strand of juice, and released the clump of hair he’d snatched.  Theresa’s face, bright red and wet from her distressed tears, gasped in anguish.  Her body seemed to melt against the couch, like her muscles were given up on her.  Jack set his hand lower toward the base of his dick, and, pointing himself at her chest, gave himself a long-awaited pump.
	Nearly a quart of his pre-ejaculate splashed out of his swollen urethra onto Theresa’s sweater blouse and white dress shirt, the latter of which he quickly blotted into transparency.  Theresa gasped as he glazed her, closing her eyes and lolling her head back over the sofa.  Jack tossed back his own head, inhaling coldly past his teeth as he milked his juice onto the defenseless woman.  He dropped a hand down to his overripe testes, giving one of them a gentle grope.  Jack grunted, his steel knob immediately reacting by squirting another pint of his glassy plaster onto Theresa’s puffy face and sticky clothing.
	Jack hopped down from the sofa, and placed his hands on Theresa’s slightly spread knees.  The woman seemed barely able to acknowledge him, but he stared her through regardless.  Without lowering his gaze, he leaned forward, creeping up her thighs to the seat of her pants, triggering small jolts through her body with each step of his hands against the denim of her jeans.  Jack’s fingers touched the leather of her belt, and met over the silver buckle.  His cock, like a loaded gun, held Theresa at bay.
	Undoing the woman’s belt and zipper, Jack tore Theresa’s jeans down, past her knees and ankles, tossing them behind onto the opposite couch.  That just left her panties, which were black and lace.  Jack brushed his fingers against the underside of Theresa’s clothed womanhood, eliciting from her a sharp shudder.  As she reeled, Jack yanked them down with alarming strength, snapping them cleanly and tossing them atop Theresa’s jeans.  Theresa inhaled erratically, pitting her stomach with each breath.  Jack could see her pussy, vulnerable and inviting.
	“Jack…” the woman finally managed, shuddering her words.  “J…Jack…”
	Placing his hands on Theresa’s shoulders, Jack gave her a rough shove onto her side.  Crying out, she caught herself with her forearm.  The way she laid, her ample ass and mound sat perpendicular to the couch cushions, perfect for Jack’s next move.  Kneeling up onto the sofa, he pivoted back and aimed his bloated tip at her opening.
	Theresa’s tear-filled eyes stared back at the ten-year-old, projecting her wordless expression of terror and bewilderment.  Jack throbbed at the sight.  He’d just about dominated this grown woman.  Holding the back of her calf, Jack lifted Theresa’s thigh into the air, spreading open her delicious-looking womanhood.
	He pushed himself up against her, mashing his gigantic cockhead against her labia.  Surprise crossed Jack’s mind as he encountered wetness.  Perhaps Theresa wasn’t entirely opposed to this after all.  Applying a little extra force, Jack squeezed himself inside of her with a noisy squelch.  Theresa shouted out from her stomach, a deep, lustful-sounding cry.  Keeping hold of her leg for leverage, Jack slowly worked his way deeper.
	Theresa’s body drew gracefully across the sofa from where Jack was knelt.  Her shirt and blouse had bunched away, exposing her lovely, taut navel, which would never have indicated that she’d been pregnant not too long ago.  She pillowed her head with the bottom of her palm, angling out her elbow.  As Jack carefully penetrated her, Theresa’s face soaked a very deep crimson.  Her tongue nearly extended itself from her open mouth as she breathed her ragged breaths and articulated her full-body shivers.  Though she had a supple pair of baby-feeding breasts, Jack found himself more appreciating the width and juiciness of her child-bearing hips, and the bit of her fat, gropable ass peeking between her thighs.  
	Jack got about five inches his elephantine sledge-dick into Theresa, with not inconsiderable effort, before he bottomed out.  He could see her stomach giving off a slight bulge as she housed his manhood, as well as the glistening juice streaming visibly from her stretched-out snatch.  Jack’s own fluids bubbled out from the edges, trickling down the soft slopes of Theresa’s leg and onto the couch.  The boy gasped softly as the surges of sexual gratification began intensifying, electrifying his nerves.  Preparing himself, Jack took his baseball-bat-cock by the trunk.
	Hardly bothering to pace himself, he moved his hips back and forth.  His steel, throbbing meat-roll suctioned out, then back in, smacking powerfully against Theresa’s insides and forcing her scream.  Jack’s young ass flexed with each thrust, his balls bouncing and slapping dully against his thighs.  The veins on his cock looked almost like plant roots, swollen and pulsing.  Sweat trickled down the vast length of his shaft, vanishing into Theresa’s own wetness.  One of the woman’s hands had trembled toward her womanhood, and seemed to search for the nub of her clit.  Jack quickened, scraping his rough flesh against her moist, boiling insides with lewd slurping sounds.
	“Ohhhhh, g-god…” Theresa moaned, under the ten-year-old’s spell.  “Ooohhhh…Jack-k—AH, fuck!  N-nn…guh—you’re…you’re breaking m-m-mmmeeee…”
	The woman’s strained words only aggravated Jack’s assault.  He powered his tingling club in and out of the young mother’s sopping box.  With every hard strike, he could feel his testes growing fuller and heavier in his hairless sack.
	It was about to begin, he thought.  He was about to cum inside of Mrs. Ronstadt.  Maybe Samantha was about to get a new brother or sister…or perhaps several given how many gallons of his backed-up cum he was likely to unload into her mommy’s poor, unsuspecting womb.  Jack wondered if taking his cock felt like giving birth again to Theresa.
	“You’re too…tooo much-ch, Jack…” Theresa wept, no longer holding back.  Her tears were flooding, but she hadn’t yet told him to stop.
	Jack slammed into her, and pulled back, then slammed again, each time forcing out a splash of their mixed juices.  His balls were filled to their absolute limit, ready to rupture from his payload.
	Stopping for a moment, Jack guided Theresa up, and directed her body to the coffee table, where he laid her chest-down on its surface.  Pushing it up and ahead, he positioned the young mother’s scrumptious ass so that it was angled upward.  Still standing quite a ways back, Jack resumed his battering of her bread-box, fucking her like she was a limp doll with a tight end.
	He was so close.  Jack’s system fired, and from his abdomen he felt the flood racing through him, churning amid the channels of his body like a tsunami.  His balls contracted as his payload reached the base of his cock, rising up, inch-after-numerous-inch, through his titanic dick.  Jack’s member swelled, his glans blowing up like a balloon inside Theresa’s vagina as the wavefront hit—
	Jack’s consciousness wavered as, like a shotgun shell, his first huge round of cum supernovaed inside of Theresa’s abused pussy, squirting back out in a milky corona all over the table and floor.  He fired like a hydrant, gushing and spraying quart upon quart of his fresh, little-boy cum into her used body.  Her womb had to be full to overflowing by this point, he thought, and he had hardly even started.  Realizing he might seriously hurt her unadjusted body if he shot every last drop into her, Jack began backing away, his dick bending very slightly as he plunged it free of her trap.
	His cock flung loose with an enormous POP, and like old faithful, stood skyward, squirting his pearly plumes toward the ceiling while cups of his seed came gushing back out of Theresa’s beaten snatch.  His cum came hosing and raining down onto Theresa’s prone body, and dropped thickly onto the wooden coffee table and into the open tin of cookies.  It felt too amazing.  Jack, his knees weakened by the unbridled bliss, stumbled back onto the couch, and let his organ fly wild.
	Jack’s semen, like frosting being squeezed from a tube, flew and smacked all across the fairly wide living room.  It landed on the wall ahead, and against the drawn, velvet curtains, smearing them with his whitish globs.  The bookcases and shelves he’d examined minutes ago fell under his unyielding attack, the rows of volumes catching Jack’s heavy splatter along their spines.  The boy’s man-juice splashed and splooshed, drizzling without pause, settling like melted candle wax.
	Theresa writhed against the table, digging her nails into her palms, marinated in Jack’s spunk.  Whatever willpower she’d retained now seemed lost as she played target dummy to Jack’s coursing orgasm.  She’d been broken, just as she said.
	Jack reclined on the sofa while his splurting juice ebbed into a thick trickle, pooling on and around his spent love stones.  His cock retreated to its state of semi-flaccidness, still standing tall at roughly fourteen inches.  Inhaling dryly, he caught his breath, and scooted himself forward and up off the sofa.  His residual jizz twirled from his tip down onto Theresa’s naked backside, becoming just another strand in the spill he’d left upon her.  Jack stepped back around the table to his crumpled clothes, stepping back into his pants and slipping into his shirt and jacket.
	From the other end of the house, he could hear a baby’s cry.  Glancing down at Theresa, Jack saw her scratching at the table, making all the effort she could to collect herself and failing.
	Turning away, he hoofed it toward the door, not wishing to overstay his intrusion.  Jack pulled the door handle, and peered across his shoulder for one last mental snapshot of the ruined mother.  She was sliding back, smearing the slimy trail with her exhausted body.
	Jack wielded such power.  Ten years old, and he’d done…this to a grown woman.  Less and less of his situation was making sense, but at least he’d accomplished what he came for.  That had to be worth it.
	Leaving behind the cum-reeking living room, incapacitated woman, and her crying child elsewhere in the house, Jack walked into the crisp evening air, not noticing the confident spring to his step.Compromises

	Filtered sunlight beamed onto the thinly-carpeted floors through the sightless windows lining the corridor.  The thin layer of carpeting running the length of the weirdly sterile vestibule was harsh on the soles of Clara’s feet, like a fine bed of cactus spines.  Agru, behind her, and the Faeons at her flanks made no sound outside the occasional slap of their cocks against their knees.  They hadn’t placed any restraints on Clara, but she knew not to resist.  They were in control now.
	They arrived at a set of inlaid marble doors.  Around them, Agru sauntered to the gilded access port and set her huge hand on the recognition crystal.  The door’s lock clunked open, the doors themselves following.  Between the parting slabs, the prison-party stepped.
	"Clara, darling!"
	Cringing as the room's harsh light shrunk around the shapely silhouette towering overhead, Clara grew a toothy scowl.  Diana stood atop her alabaster perch, legs crossed closely at the knees, hands on her sloping hips.  The dark woman’s enormous cock stood at half mast, angling away from her legs and quivering very slightly in the air.  One of her hands was half wrapped around the base of her shaft, the other hefting the juicy underside of her tit.
	“I have nothing to say to you,” Clara barked, edging her foot forward.  Immediately, she heard the Faeons’ armor slide as they poised to subdue her.
	“Yes, yes, how are you?” Diana sang with a flap of her wings.  Her dick jumped an inch as her well-practiced giddiness spiked, then settled back down.
	Clara sealed her lips.  The air in the chamber was cold, licking bitterly against the blue-headed girl’s skin.  To her great frustration, she felt her face redden as her nipples went hard.
	“Oh, Clara,” the buxom bat-lady sighed, seating herself at the rim of her platform, re-crossing her knees.  “Clara, I apologize.”
	Clara’s brow sharpened, “I don’t suppose for the savagery you’re trying to inflict upon a defenseless race of—”
	“For keeping you in that cell, my lovely,” Diana kept on, hands smoothing along her well-grown form.  “For treating you like a common prisoner when, Clara, you are a true and precious friend!”
	“I am not your friend!” Clara snapped.  Again, the slide of Faeon armor.
	Letting a small chortle, Diana laid a finger on the corner of her mouth.  She cooed in false mortification, raising a facade where it was clearly unneeded.  Clara’s contemptuous eyes followed down the woman’s juicy form, lingering on her full breasts and meaty thighs.  She tried to shake herself, but the chemical chaos within her raged.
	“Then,” Diana said, tracing a finger along her plump shaft, “if you won’t let me be your friend, why not at least let me help you?”
	Clara cocked an eyebrow, “Help me?”
	Diana again snickered, “By now, you must have noticed the changes in your body.”
	“You mean your pheromone?”
	Clapping her hands, Diana leaned ahead.  “Oh, I hope you like it, dearest!  It’s not too often I get to stick it in others!”
	Clara offered her an unamused smirk.  “It’s the only thing you get to stick in me.”
	“Hah!” Diana guffawed, echoing through the room.  She rose to her feet, shifting her hips.  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetie.  Besides, you and I both know I’ve already put more than some aroma past those pretty pink lips of yours.”
	Clara bit her lip, brushing her thighs together and folding her arms to make her stance appear less telling.  She certainly didn’t need to be reminded that she’d been made to swallow Diana’s ginormous cock once already, juices and all.  Her own sense of self-deprecation was blended messily with her whirlwind arousal.  Although she gazed up at the perch, at Diana and her freakish endowment, and felt hatred for the vile temptress, her animal instincts roared over her consciousness with audacious intent.  The thick member growing out of Diana’s pelvis—heavy, vascular, and powerful—was as much a draw for Clara’s hunger as it was her disgust.
	"Actually," Diana continued, "I brought you here because I have the means to wipe out the hormonal storm brewing inside of you."
	Clara's thighs would not separate.  Her loins tingled and moistened.
	"But you want something first?"
	"You possess some knowledge," Diana said, turning her back and revealing her perfectly round ass.  "Some of the things you know could no doubt be used against us."
	"Even if I knew anything," Clara mused, "why would I share it with you?"
	Diana's dimpling smirk could not have been a good sign.  The winged woman brandished her hand, and her shimmering pedestal sunk smoothly into the floor below.  As it did, a curled form behind Diana's ankles emerged into sight.
	Clara's eyes swelled as she recognized the submissive figure, a magnificently voluptuous individual, wearing proportions more dramatic even than Diana's, and sporting long, purple hair with matching tattoos.
 	"Arané!" Clara breathed, cold dread seeping out of the woman's name.
	Diana crouched down beside the curvaceous woman, the fat tip of her cock brushing against the floor.  She set a hand on Arané's round hip, issuing a clear jolt through the laying woman’s body.
	“Poor old girl,” Diana murmured insincerely, “The slightest breeze causes her orgasm now.  She has it very rough, considering I’ve been…letting my hands wander.”
	“Don’t you touch her!” Clara belted, stomping forward.  Burly Faeon arms closed swiftly across her chest, halting her.
	“I won’t,” Diana said with a grin.  “However, if you don’t give me the answers I want…”
	At Diana’s beckoning, a party of hard-hilted Faeons descended from above, landing heavily around Arané’s vulnerable form.  The purple-haired woman seemed relatively disconnected, perhaps numbed by the intense feelings Diana had described, but Clara saw her eyes float up to the surrounding guards.
	“Let’s just say our friend Miss VeVille will have more than a breeze to worry about.”
	Clara wrestled against her man-handlers to no avail.  Their powerful hands clutched her shoulders and hips, and their thick, toned thighs nudged against hers.  Further struggle would only make her the worse for wear.
	“Diana—”
	“Shh!” Diana hissed, pressing a finger against her own lips.  “This can be as painless or as unpleasant as you like, my dear.  If you value your friend’s relative chastity, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
	Gulping, Clara relaxed herself, and felt the guards’ hold soften.  Diana twirled her finger, conjuring a gaudy-looking seat and dropping into it.  Her eyes bore into Clara’s as she rested her chin against her knuckles and flashed her spear-like fangs.
	“Now then,” Diana chuckled, laying her other hand against her shaft and tracing its largest vein with her middle finger, “why don’t you tell me where Lysyria DeAmos has gone?”
	Clara couldn’t speak.  Diana was asking her to decide between Arané and Lysyria.  Her heart thumped and her head throbbed.  Deeply-set anger broiled as the girl saw Diana’s sadistic grin widen.  Crossing her long, juicy legs in her seat, Diana glanced over at one of Arané’s surrounding entourage, nodding at the chiseled Faeon.
	The guard stomped up to Arané, squatting down and shoving her beefy forearms beneath the woman’s armpits.  With ease, the Faeon hoisted Arané’s curvaceous body into the air, earning from her a shuddered groan as her massive breasts squished against the Faeon’s cold, metal breastplate.  The guard then worked her hands beneath the Fairy’s huge ass, first one, then the other.  She had Arané’s thighs spread wide and her womanhood exposed, and, stepping into a wide, resilient stance, began lowering the defenseless woman toward her fat, skyward dong.
	“Wait!” Clara shouted, hot-faced and aroused against her will.
	But her cry did nothing.  Arané’s pussy briefly resisted the Faeon woman’s swollen cockhead, but quickly gave way with a noisy slurp.  Arané cried out a piercing, shrieking cry as the immense rod gored her, sealed against her insides, stretching her wide.  Her face flushed beet-red, and her fat, puffy nipples seemed to puff outward as she was violated.  Pearly beads surfaced on her large, pink paps, rolling and dripping with each bodily shudder.  Arané’s stomach bulged just slightly where the guard’s shaft was inserted.
	“I have absolutely no reservations about letting my ladies fuck your friend into a coma,” Diana affirmed, brandishing her own meaty pole.  “If you’d like to see an end to this, I suggest you answer my question.”
	Clara’s stare lingered on Arané’s well-endowed form, nearly skewered atop the Faeon’s tremendous member.  Thick, clear fluid oozed from the purple-haired woman’s assaulted pussy, dripping onto the immaculate flooring.  The Faeon was barely even moving, and yet Arané was already gushing.
	Clara took a dry breath.  “I…Lysyria…was hidden somewhere in the house.”
	Diana shifted, giving her tits a slight wobble, and repositioned her jaw against her patient fist.
	“When your people arrived,” Clara continued, “Arané had us scatter.  I didn’t see exactly where Lysyria went to.”
	“Now, now, Clara,” Diana began.  Looking thoughtful for a moment, she shot a glance at another guard, gesturing her to Arané with a toss of her head.
	“No!” Clara cried.  The Faeon rounded Arané, whose head was slumped limply over her giver’s shoulder.  Running her claw tips across the Fairy’s thick thigh and buttock, the guard slipped her hands beneath Arané’s full tits, and drove the tip of her cock against The woman’s asshole.
	The pressure against her anus seemed to jog Arané out of her stupor.  Freeing a hand, the second Faeon gripped the base of her twitching, veiny dick, steadying it, and shoved herself in, suctioning loudly within the woman’s rectum.  Arané’s wail must have been reflexive at this point, for her mouth muscles seemed to be all that were active of her body.  Her backdoor Faeon retook her fat boob, and gave her chest a wringing squeeze.  Arané must have been bursting with milk, as it came showering out of her into the front Faeon.
	The guards needed only to keep the woman in place over their angry erections.  Arané howled and cried, tears streaking down her crimson cheeks.  Clara could hear the congestion in her throat, the hard wetness of each breath the woman took.  She herself felt torture in her loins.  Clara wanted to throw herself to the floor and finger herself until she could no longer feel feelings.  The tingles had matured into vicious itches, networking across the nerves bundled within her inner thighs.  As horrible as Arané's fate was, it was difficult not to grow deeply aroused by it.
	No!  This can't...go on...
	"She was in a hidden cupboard!" Clara exclaimed, drawing all eyes to her.  She prayed she wasn't blushing too much.  “In the house, in the living room, there’s a hidden panel, Lysyria was in there!”
	What had she just done?  Now, unless the professor had managed to escape, Diana would have all three of them in her custody.
	“That’s better,” Diana said with a soft clap of her hands.  A great bead of pre-ejaculate edged at her urethra as her war-club cock flexed.  Running her finger beneath her lip and with a beat of her wings, the woman took herself by the trunk and squeezed forth her glossy plaster.
	Clara’s knees knocked as Diana’s juices dribbled onto the tile.  Without laying a finger on herself, she was verging on climax.  Again, she grew extremely conscious of the fact that she wore no clothing, and was fully exposed to Diana and her posse.  She felt like some kind of exhibitionist, getting off on the mere notion that these others could see her every naked inch.  Her nipples, her pussy, her ass—Clara was in full view of her tormentors, and as horrible as it was, she new she liked it.
	Finally, the orgasmic wavefront hit, lurching her body, clenching her bare stomach, tickling her exposed sides.  Clara’s hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms.  Her thighs pressed into a sharp Y, diverging narrowly at the knees.  She swayed, strung up by the warm shocks firing through her.
	“Well, well, well,” Diana laughed.  “Not so opposed to this alternative torture, now, are we?”
	Drawing back her head and taking a couple sobering breaths, Clara found her fortitude.  She faced Diana with glistening eyes, only to see the woman stroking herself further.  More of the Pink-haired Imp’s slick came fauceting out, adding to the accumulating puddle near her toes.
	“Next,” Diana sighed, biting her lip, “my ladies found several discarded spellstones at the house.  What were they for?”
	Clara’s tongue felt numb, “For fighting you…”
	Diana lifted her brow, “Ah…”
	Another toss of Diana’s head, and the pair of Faeons lancing into Arané, with some effort, pulled themselves out with yet another lewd sucking of air.  The long-haired huntresses lowered her onto her elbows and knees, cushioning her against her own pillowy udders and propping her round, juicy rear above her head-level.  Then, without a break in their rhythm, they repositioned themselves behind Arané and beside one another, and pierced back into her.  Their massive dicks stretched the woman’s ends massively, fighting their way into her.  Arané’s dull scream resounded. 
	“What do they do, Clara?” Diana asked, still pumping her vein-stricken shaft.
	“They…” Clara couldn’t peel her eyes away as a third guardswoman knelt before Arané, lifting her curtly by the chin and feeding her own throbbing cock into the woman’s slack mouth.  She who had been so kind and generous to Clara, who had unconditionally allowed her into her home, had become the Faeons’ new sex toy because of her.
	“They were supposed to reverse the effects of the spell you’ve been using!”
	Diana lifted a hand, and the Faeons more or less froze in position, with Arané still weathering their protrusions.
	“Were any such stones completed?” Diana asked.
	“Yes,” Clara confessed, feeling herself slipping away as she conceded to the woman’s interrogation.  “In the staff I was using when your people attacked.”
	“And any others?”
	“That’s the only one I am aware of.”
	Diana seemed to ponder what she’d heard.  Rising out of her throne, the fit woman took some criss-crossing steps about the room, one hand still wrapped comfortably around her cock, the other crossed over her washboard stomach.  Clara watched in fascination as Diana’s legs worked, her powerful muscles pulling and operating just beneath her positively flawless skin.  Each thigh had to be thicker around than Clara’s own waist, and each perfect asscheek was surely larger than both of Clara’s together.
	It was so difficult to both hate this bitch and lust after her body.
	“I believe that’s all I’ll be needing from you,” Diana decided.  She glanced at the guards upon Arané.  “Have at her.”
	Clara went frigid as the guards resumed, pumping and plugging Arané, their hard, muscle-woven bodies thrusting savagely into the hapless Fairy with deep squishes.
	“I answered your questions!” Clara screamed.  The Faeon arms retook her, but this time she poured everything into the struggle.  “Stop!”
	“You are in no position to dictate terms!” Diana roared, something Clara had never heard out of her.  “And in fact, we have no more reason to keep you in a prison you may very well escape.”
	Clara didn’t stop fighting, but kept her attention locked onto Diana, who raised both arms outward.  The floor ahead of her brightened, out of it emerging a shimmering ring.  In a rapid flash, the light coalesced into a towering stone wheel, in the middle of which rippled an oily, translucent barrier.
	A portal.
	"Considering all the threat you've so far posed," Diana continued, her image mired by the dimensional distortion, "I've decided to leave you among the Humans for whom you've expressed such concern."
	Diana was going to banish her to the Netherrealm—to Earth!
	Clara wriggled in the Faeons' vice.  "Diana, wait—"
	Diana slinked around the gateway, vigorously lathering the head of her masted rod with her own copious pre-cum.  She pivoted toward Clara, grabbing the base of her trunk with her other hand and lining herself up with The restrained girl.
	Clara's lips parted anxiously as she realized what was happening.
	Diana gave a naughty mmmmph, and with a final two-handed pump, squirted her hot mess, smack into Clara’s face.  Boiling seed bulleted against her closed eyes and mouth, stringing wetly onto her rosy skin.  Load upon load came forth, drizzling not just onto her, but against the arms of her Faeon flanks as well.  Clara tried turning her head, but it was no use.  Diana was unloading buckets, and they landed wherever they felt like it.  Pressed against the front of her thighs were the Faeons' iron cocks, crossed together like a Jolly Roger and drooling their fluids onto her feet, contributing in their smaller way to the deluge.
	"All right, Clara," Diana cackled, choking out her last couple streamers.  "Let's go."
	Clara was brought off her feet as the guards heaved her forward, shaking a few milky strands loose from her body.  The portal pulsed, breaking up and reattaching her reflection, giving off a low-strumming resonance as she was brought in close.
	“Don’t catch your death, now,” Diana sang, wings cloaking her fantastic figure.
	There was no sliver of opportunity to respond.  The Faeons, without effort, launched Clara into the matrix.  Though it appeared liquid, passing through felt more like being yanked into a vacuum.  Tendriled arms of energy paraded the girl’s powerless body into the conduit, tossing and spinning her as it pleased.  All colors of the spectrum flashed in fluid simultaneity, spitting at her glittering inter-existent particles.  Throbbing light approached.  She was nearly out.
	Clara’s wings once again failed her as she was deposited from the hole.  She came down with a wet crash onto a marshy surface, limbs flailing groundlessly until they became entrenched within the clay.  Grunting, she lifted herself upon her elbows, carefully so not to slip.  Cold raindrops sprinkled against her bare body.  Shifting onto a single supportive arm, Clara brandished her fingers, calling up her barrier.
	But it did not come.
	Again, she tried, but her magic wouldn’t respond.  Each second made more clear how frigid it was.  Goosebumps rose across her wet skin, her body shivered, and her teeth chattered.  Try as she did, nothing came of her motions.  Her arms wrapped in front of her legs, pulling her into a huddled ball.  One hand went to her plastered bangs, shakily brushing it behind her ear—
	Clara froze as she touched her lobe.  A brief search with her fingertips gave her confirmation: her ear had lost its point.  She checked her other side, finding identical results.  Reaching around her back, Clara found that her wings, too, had vanished.
	Diana hadn’t just sent her to Earth; she’d turned her into a Human!
	That was why she’d told her not to catch her death, Clara realized.  Weighing herself onto her knees, she swayed into a stand.  She bit back the shivers and quickly scanned in her surroundings.  Ahead, she saw a dense wood—the same one she and Diana had gone into on the first night, she quickly realized.  Spinning around, she caught the gentle specks of houselights in the distance.
	Naked, wet, and freezing, Clara hobbled toward the hazy suburbs, pushing herself through the mud and against the rain, all her hopes resting in someone generous enough to offer shelter for her weakened state.

	Ash grunted as her elbows thudded against the sink's chilly edge.  Greedy hands lifted her hips forward and up, locking her knees and lifting her heels.  She saw herself in the chipped mirror, a worn expression of excitement burdened with anxiety and uncertainty.  With trembling fingers, she brushed a black strand behind her ear, keeping that small fleck of dignity.
	 The man behind her, faceless and nameless as far as she was concerned, thrust himself against her massively ample ass, issuing a short ripple across her plush hips and thighs as he smacked into her.  Ash’s drenched pussy devoured her user’s stone-edged erection, taking all of it with ease.  She chewed her lip, running her fingers into her hair and along her scalp as she was hammered in by someone she might as well have picked off a street corner.
	After her most unusual afternoon at that girl’s house, Ash had made it back to the Nift-Thrift, though by that point she had lost nearly all sense of where she needed to go or what she needed to do.  Something had happened to her after she let that girl and that boy fuck her raw—something besides her obvious proportional changes.  She was feeling very strange, sick almost, like she’d been hit with a fever, and while she couldn’t put the feeling to words, she had immediately known what she needed for relief.
	It was something that transcended arousal.  Greater than lust, greater than want, Ash had grown overcome by a mighty instinct telling her to seek out and fuck any man she could find.  Something in her needed this.  So, she’d gone back into Nift-Thrift, catching a few double-takes from some of the staff who might have seen her there earlier, and scoped out an isolated specimen.  From there, it was all theatrics.  Riding a wind of inspiration, she’d closed in on her prey, standing next to him and climbing to her toes while she reached for the aisle’s top shelf.  Then, at the height of her grasp, she let herself swoon into her unsuspecting target, clambering against him for support and taking special care to rub her swollen tits across his body.
	Brief words were exchanged, they scampered away to the restroom, and now here they were.
	The man poled himself in and out of Ash, his hips slapping rhythmically against her ass.  She moaned and cried happily, and yet, despite the man’s clear willingness, he lacked some of the…character that boy Jack had possessed.  This would have to do, for now.  She was explored and fondled and slapped by the invisible pair of hands.  Erotic, rolling waves of comfort shook her well-endowed body, forcing her thighs together.  As she rocked in tandem with her lover, Ash’s tits swung and slapped between her hot, sweat-sticky torso and the icy porcelain of the sink.  Juices dripped from her sweltering snatch onto the tile flooring, and were joined by thin shower streams of milk jetting from her bloated paps.  Ash was already being ripped to shreds by multiple, simultaneous orgasms, igniting her entire voluptuous form.
	“Ffffuck!” the man snarled, his fingers sinking into her bouncing ass.  “I’m—”
	Liquid warmth melted into Ash, turning her cheeks a new shade of red.  The man’s seed dribbled from her womanhood, pooling with the rest of the fluids at their feet.  They both were gasping, steadying themselves.  Ash felt a more gentle double pat on her rear, followed by the brush and jingle of jeans and a belt being hoisted up.  It was already over…
	Ash dropped to her knees as the yet-faceless man pulled on his shirt and exited the restroom.  The door latched, and left the blushing Asian beauty alone.  Her hand slowly, quietly caressed the inside of her thigh, migrating inch-by-inch to her mound.  With her middle finger, she touched the nub of her clit, shocking herself with a profound jiggle.
	It would be best if she weren’t caught being indecent, she considered.  Sitting back on her big butt, Ash felt behind her for the clothes she’d taken from Elizabeth.  Grabbing her shirt, she stuck her arms and head through the holes and stretched the fabric over her colossal jugs.  Small wet spots appeared as her fattened nipples touched the inside threads.  She had no bra and no panties anymore, so she then found her new XXXL-sized sweatpants and stepped inside.  It took a few bounces before her fat ass could be squeezed past the already massive waistband, and once it was, it forced the fabric to cling to her every dramatic contour.  With glazed eyes, Ash admired herself in the mirror, gently aroused by the sight of her own curves, of her wet, grape-sized nipples protruding against the cotton of her shirt, of the sheer width of her motherly hips and girth of her splendorous thighs.  Stepping back into her tennis shoes, the only part of her original wardrobe she’d been able to retain, she silently left the stall.
	Things appeared calm on Nift-Thrift’s sales floor.  No one seemed to have witnessed Ash’s little escapade, or else they were simply keeping their heads down.  Closing the bathroom door behind her, she set her sights on the store’s front door.
	Where would she go?  Ash hadn’t a clue, but deep inside, she felt there were more such adventures to be had in the night ahead.  Her hunger wasn’t yet satisfied.  One fuck from a stranger wasn’t going to be enough to—
	“Ungh!”
	Ash whipped toward the noise, quickly recognizing the manly grunt.  In front of the checkout counter stood her man, keeling before the perturbed-looking cashier girl.  Curious, Ash side-stepped her way past the racks of shirts and pants for a better look at what was happening.
	At last, she saw.  The man backed against the nearby showcase cabinet, his hands scrambling against its glass doors searching for support while he seemed to rasp for oxygen.  Ash felt an intrigued eyebrow cock as she noticed the swelling bulge in the man’s pants, fighting against the seams.  The cashier girl seemed not to notice that particular detail, but was shocked in her own right.
	“Sir?  Sir, are you all right?”
	Ash made a small gasp, her bountiful chest rising.  Just as had happened to her, this man was changing—growing!  The lump in his pants seemed to have stretched the denim to its limit, looking like a coconut stuffed into the front of his trousers.
	There were three loud, rapid pops.  The man’s zipper burst open, and out of it flung a cock as long as his arm and thicker, rock-solid and pointed up.  He still seemed winded, and couldn’t pry himself from the cabinet.  The cashier girl had gone slack-jawed.  Ash couldn’t tell if anyone else was watching, she was so enraptured by the spectacle unfolding before her.
	The cashier’s hand crept toward the phone by her register, her eyes not leaving the titanic boner pointed her way.  Immediately, as if reacting to the girl’s motion, the man’s dick flexed once, bobbing into the air.  It flexed again, this time projecting a long strand of clear fluid.  The veins along his shaft throbbed, his glans shone and blushed.  Ash braced herself, pressing her thighs back together as her eyes widened in anticipation.
	And with the third flex, the cap was off.  Sheer white cum came hosing out of his gigantic cock, jetting thickly onto the floor, against the counter, and onto the stunned cashier girl.  The man’s seed was like a tapped oil well, exploding out of him with ungodly force.  He screamed out, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm.  He may as well have been pissing cum, it was so fast and plentiful.  The girl behind the counter was immobilized with her hand on the still-hooked phone, glob after white, shiny glob splattering against her face and shirt.
	Ash’s fingers had long since slipped down the front of her pants and were furiously stroking her pussy.  She lifted a tit with one hand, massaging and squeezing it, forcing her milk out in creamy bursts through her shirt.  Climax was always mere seconds away now.
	Standing in the middle of the store, under the eyes of who knew how many people, she came violently, her fat ass jiggling madly as she convulsed and contracted.
	None of it made sense, and yet none of it had to.  Whatever it was that possessed her, it was making all this frustration and indecency somehow sufferable.Friday, 7:04pm

	“Leesy, dinner!”
	Elizabeth scooped a tangle of spaghetti and a ladleful of tomato sauce onto a plate as the little girl charged into the dining room and nearly vaulted into her chair, looking remarkably radiant.  Waddling over, the sitter set Annelise’s dish on its placemat.
	“Is Jack coming?” the young girl asked, breath bated.
	What an interesting question, Elizabeth thought, a short buzz passing through her loins.  Perhaps it was the prospect of finally seeing her brother today that had Annelise so excited.  How sweet…and inconvenient.
	“I think Jack still isn’t feeling well, honey,” Elizabeth answered, taking her own plate and sitting in a chair far too tiny for her James-and-the-Giant-Peach-evoking ass.
	Like a bathtub, Annelise’s expression drained.  She moped over her food, looking sunken-eyed and depressed.
	“Aw, I’m sorry,” Elizabeth cooed, placing a soothing hand on the girl’s tiny shoulder blade.
	“I wrote an assignment at school about him, and I want him to see it,” she murmured.
	Elizabeth bit her lip.  That was the sweetest, cutest thing she’d ever heard.  All of the sudden, she lost regard for the dire nature of Jack’s condition.  That kid was going to read every word of his sister’s paper.
	“You know,” Elizabeth said with a pat, “I think I can get him to come down for a little bit.”
	The glow in Annelise’s cheeks was restored, and her grin quickly reached ear-to-ear.  Elizabeth scootched away from the table, trying not to let her immense hips sway as she took to her feet.
	Half-a-minute later and standing outside Jack’s room, she gave the door a sharp rap.  Past the wood, she heard sudden scrambling and bedsheets being drawn.
	“Jack,” Elizabeth called, knocking again.
	There was another ruffle of blankets, followed by footsteps thumping toward the door.  The handle ratcheted, and out of the small crack that opened peered Jack’s eye.
	“What?” he asked moodily.
	“Your sister has something she wants to show you.”
	“I can’t right now.”
	The door closed.  Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around the door-handle, but paused.  She could at least negotiate with him.
	“It’s really important to her,” she said sweetly.  “You’d make her happy.”
	Silence.
	“I’ll…” She curled her lips.  “If you do it now, I’ll let you fuck my ass tonight.”
	Elizabeth felt aflutter with arousal at her tenacity.  She only had to wait a moment before Jack’s door peered open again.  He had a cautious look in his eye.
	“Will you?” she asked, smirking.
	Jack looked down.
	“Give me a minute…”
	“We’ll be waiting,” Elizabeth beamed, her tits and ass jiggling as she spun back toward the stairs.  It scarcely crossed her mind whether she’d just sacrificed herself for the play.  Jack’s fingers were one thing; his mammoth cock entirely another.
	She returned to the dining room, rejoining Annelise at the table.  Annelise had her journal open next to her plate, her assignment waiting.  Minutes passed, and Elizabeth was ready to march back upstairs, until she heard an unusual pace descending the staircase.  Jack seemed to be moving at a limp, and suddenly Elizabeth was regaining her doubts about having asked him to come out.
	He hobbled into the dining room, not bending his right knee, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and took the seat opposite his sister.
	"Are you feeling better, Jack?" Annelise squeaked, nudging her journal forward.
	Jack's eyes were completely glazed, "Mmn..."
	Elizabeth eyed Jack's sweatpants as he pulled Annelise's paper across the table, spying the massive, sausage-shaped bulge extending to his knee.  Seeing Annelise's eager eyes fixed on her brother, she quietly nestled a hand between her thighs.
	"My brother, Jack," Jack muttered, completely rigid.  The trunk pinned to his leg twitched gently but visibly.
	Elizabeth could feel her nipples stiffening against her shirt and coat.  An emerging wetness in her womanhood moistened the spot where her forefinger rested.  Her whole body began to tingle while, before her, Jack’s monster dong was rising to the occasion.
	“My brother...Jack..." Jack struggled, “is my very…best…friend…”
	This was so completely inappropriate, trapping Jack in front of his sister while he neared his capacity.  Yet, the heat between Elizabeth's legs burned hot and steady, responding anxiously to the distension hiding in the young boy's pants.
	"Jack is ten years old, and..."
	Jack bit his lip, stifling himself.  On his pant-leg appeared a large, shiny splotch, gluing the fabric to his bulbous knob.  Elizabeth pressed her finger against her clit, climaxing silently.  She felt the pink in her cheeks, but was satisfied that Annelise wouldn’t take her eyes off her brother.  Young innocence sat across the table from this massive, throbbing monstrosity.  That was so hot, somehow.  What if Jack came?  What if this was how Annelise found out, if she ever was to find out?  Elizabeth’s nipples itched and throbbed, droplets of her milk beading forth.
	“…and he really likes to play video games,” Jack trudged on, barely keeping hold.  “Sometimes…sometimes, we play Mario Kart…ungh…”
	The spot on Jack’s pants expanded, the gloss of his boy-juice soaking through.  Small strands dwindled to the floor like spider silk.  His flexes grew harder and more frequent.  His lips curled while his face turned purplish.
	“What’s that smell?” Annelise asked, glancing over at Elizabeth.
	Elizabeth had already caught it.  The air was positively heavy with Jack’s sexual musk.  Even his pre-ejaculate gave off an aroma distracting enough to gain Annelise’s attention.  How little she knew.
	“Are you feeling sick again?” Annelise asked, caring sweetly for her tortured sibling.
	Elizabeth folded her fingers and rested her chin, gazing at Jack’s flustered expression.
	“Jack, do you need to go?” the sitter asked with a barely-concealed smirk.
	Jack rocked back and forth, shivering in his seat, before answering with an excruciated nod.  His juices were pooling at his feet in a thick, glistening puddle.  Any second, he might pop.
	“Okay,” Elizabeth said, “I’ll come check on you after I’ve cleaned things up.”
	Jack’s chair scraped against the hardwood as he carefully stood and stuck his legs together.  He shuffled out of the dining room like a penguin, turning out of sight toward the stairs.  Annelise retook her journal, looking defeated.
	“I think he really enjoyed it, Leesy,” Elizabeth said, offering her a condoling smile.  “He just hasn’t been feeling well at all today.”
	Annelise somewhat returned her smile, and returned to making small stabs at her food.  Elizabeth had mustered enough power not to start groping herself, but it was certainly a challenge.  Her fat tits and enormous ass were begging to be grabbed and manhandled, her sore, puffed-up nips were ready to squirt liters of her milk.  Dinner couldn’t be over fast enough.
	Once the meal was finally through, and Elizabeth had run her and Annelise’s dishes through the sink and into the wash, it was almost 7:30.  Fantastic.
	“Okay, Leesy,” Elizabeth said, grinding her thighs, “time to get ready for bed, okay?”
	Annelise skipped away toward the stairs.  “Okay!”
	Releasing a repressed sigh, Elizabeth fast-footed it to the first-floor landing and waited with her hand on the wooden railing.  Above, she heard the bathroom door click shut.  Again, she took off, keeping her steps light as she beelined for Jack’s room.  Sticking her toes against the bottom edge of the door, she wrapped one hand around the handle, and with a soft knuckle, tapped against the wood.
	“Jack…”
	Taking a second’s breath, Elizabeth turned the handle, intending to open the door just enough to let herself through but realizing it was an exercise in futility with her proportions.  Squeezing inside, she closed the door behind her.  The bedside lamp was on, casting a fuzzy, orange glow throughout the room.  Jack sat at the edge of his mattress, naked, his astounding penis reaching for the sky and still drooling onto the floor in juicy ropes.  Every blood vessel crawling his length was swollen and alive, pulsing tentatively.  His poor, unrelieved testicles sincerely looked like large water balloons, heavy and swaying lightly as the boy breathed.
	“Oh, Jack,” Elizabeth said, slinking up to him with her hands on her hips, slipping out of her coat, lifting her shirt.  “When was the last time you had some medicine?”
	Jack was close to wheezing, taking noisy breaths through his teeth.  Tears had formed on his eyelids, ready to fall.
	“A promise is a promise,” the voluptuous sitter sweet-talked, peeling her pants off of her buxom legs, “and because you were such a good boy to your sister…”
	Elizabeth slowly spun on her heel, touching and bending her knees.
	“…now you get to be a good boy to my ass.”
	Across her shoulder, she saw Jack raise himself from his bed, his package looking unwieldy and ready to burst.  She got to her knees and stretched forward, cushioned against her own tits, sticking her giant butt in the air for Jack to take.  The boy’s hands landed gently on her hips, the underside of his titanic dick brushing against the upper edge of her crack.  A hot, juicy dollop of his juice rolled into her cleft, trickling down her buttocks.  Thankfully, Jack could make more than enough of his own lube.  Elizabeth inhaled tensely, imagining the punishment she was about to receive from this ten-year-old.
	“Go for it, Jack,” she hissed.  “Make me yours.”

	Elizabeth’s order seemed to switch on the primal instinct part of Jack’s brain.  She’d been stringing him for long enough that he had grown resigned to the fact that she might forever be the dominant one.  But now, she’d made it clear the advantage was his.  She was at his mercy now.
	Fixing his hold on Elizabeth’s hips, Jack drew back his pelvis, positioning his warhead.  He spotted his babysitter’s anus, pondering it for a moment.  It was such a small opening.  He wasn’t possibly going to be able to fit himself inside…
	Wrong.
	Refueled by the same beast that had overtaken him mere hours ago at Theresa’s house, the boy pushed his fat, slathered tip against the tight little spot.
	Elizabeth grunted, “Mmngh…”
	At first, nothing.  Though he pushed, Jack met resistance.  However, when he would not relent, he felt Elizabeth slowly giving way.  Slicked by his own juices, he was slowly, very slowly entering her.  Elizabeth took his mass centimeter by swollen centimeter.  Jack’s plum-colored balls throbbed insanely in anticipation.  The largest vein along his incredible shaft stood angrily, as if crying him onward.  His gigantic, mushroom-headed glans was almost all the way in, its lower rim the only bit left…
	SQUSCCCHHHHP
	Elizabeth’s hand, rolled up into a fist, flew to her mouth.  She bit down against her knuckle, her eyes doing all the screaming that might otherwise have come from her throat.  When that widest portion of Jack’s cockhead had made it inside Elizabeth’s ass, several meaty inches of his rod quickly sunk in after.  The babysitter’s asshole sealed tightly around his girth.  Her gigantic asscheeks had flexed up so powerfully, the muscles constricted his submerged cock.
	By all appearances, Elizabeth hadn’t quite been prepared to take him.
	That wouldn’t stop Jack.  Checking his grip, he tried pressing further, to see if there was room left at all.  He squeezed forward a very tight inch before he felt he was far enough.  Holding on tight, he started on his way back.  The warm, wet, somewhat rough walls of Elizabeth’s rectum brushed ecstatically against his overgrown member, particularly tickling his steely glans.  Ounces of his fluid poured into Elizabeth, prepping his way back.  While he slid through her, he could hear the quiet slipping of his skin against her insides.
	Nearly reaching Elizabeth’s anus with his swollen head, Jack rapidly drove himself back in, rocking the girl’s entire, shapely body forward with an extremely sensual jiggle.  This seemed to have winded her, as her fist fell from her teeth but still no sound escaped.  He could feel her loosening up just a little bit—enough for him to perhaps pick up the pace.
	Jack pulled back, then thrust forward again, back, forward.  Elizabeth too looked like she was reaching a comfort zone, bringing her breathing slightly under control.  Completely sprung by the sight of his elephantine dick slamming into his babysitter’s enormous, fat, shaking ass, Jack felt greater amounts of his unending juices squelching into her.  She was completely plugged by his monster, vacuum-sealed by the sheer immensity attached to his young body.
	“Oooohhhhhhhh…you know…Leesy’s paper should have said—”
	Elizabeth was briefly silenced as Jack pummeled into her with tremendous force.
	“My brother…also has a huge cock…”
	Jack felt a sweep of uplifting sexual charge enter his body as Elizabeth spoke.  He let his hands wander from her hips as he attained a good rhythm, squeezing and pinching her jiggly ass.
	“And…he always fucks the babysitter…and could fill a bathtub…with his cum…”
	Another surge of intense pleasure shot up his spine.  It was happening soon…
	“He thinks…I don’t know…but it’s so big he can’t hide it…”
	He felt the telltale buildup in his abdomen, the incredible swell of fluids collecting near his core.  It grew and grew, faster and greater than any time before.  Jack’s balls would explode any second if this didn’t happen.  He was jackhammering into Elizabeth’s ass so powerfully, things on his shelves were rattling.  Finally, it started its way through, flowing toward the base of his behemoth, flooding up his shaft, making it bulge—
	“Jack?”
	Jack swore, in that moment, that his heart had stopped.  All time froze.  Looking forward, at the open door, at the silhouette framed in the hallway light, he saw Annelise, staring at the brother she so admired and revered, and saw in her eyes the slow-motion shattering of her world.  Worse still, he was at the absolute point of no return.  Jack’s young, pure, innocent sister was about to bear witness to his secret in its complete and utter filthiness.
	“Oh…” Elizabeth gasped, seeing the girl.  “Oh god, no…”
	Boiling, frosting-thick quarts of cum blasted out of Jack’s huge cock, nearly overloading his pleasure centers even while the deepest, darkest guilt permeated his soul.  The incredible jetting of his seed was slowly propelling him out of Elizabeth’s drum-tight rectum, issuing thick gurgles within her.  White streams of his overflowing semen squirted out the edges of the sitter’s asshole, streaking hotly against Jack’s skinny abdomen.
	Annelise recoiled slightly as, with the usual POP, her brother’s gigantic horse cock flung free of Elizabeth’s ass, still squirting immense, pearly plumes toward the ceiling.  With a blurp, everything Jack had unloaded into the babysitter came volcanoing out of her gaping anus, dribbling in drowning, molten globs down her naked, prone form, splashing onto the floor.  Jack, meanwhile, came and came, immobilized by the most powerful climax he’d yet experienced, shooting clear over a gallon with each freakish throb.
	Annelise was either catatonic or hypnotized by the tremendous arcs leaving her brother and splattering back down on him and Elizabeth.  What a way for her to learn about sex—by catching her beloved brother giving the world’s biggest creampie to their babysitter.  She simply stared on, transfixed, as Jack blew his wet gouts of boy-milk everywhere, as his cream flowed from Elizabeth’s enormous ass, the both of them reeking of each other’s sex.
	Shuddering as the last few streamers ribboned out of his body, Jack fell back against his elbows, head buzzing as the blood started rushing back.  His still-swollen cock flexed and bobbed in the tingling aftershock of his cataclysmic ejaculation.  The horrible pressure in his balls had relieved, replaced by a pleasant decompressing sensation.
	The situation seemed to be catching up with Annelise, who took hard, rattled breaths.  Everything Jack had hoped to prevent her from seeing…
	How to deal with this…?  How to fix this…?

	
	Minty remnants of toothpaste swirled across Annelise’s tongue as she breathed, feeling with each anguished inhalation none of the air filling her lungs.  In fact, she felt almost nothing of her body.  Her fingers, her toes, her knees—all numb, all escaping her.  Pure reflex kept her breathing while she looked on, petrified.
	She’d finished brushing her teeth, had put on her nightie, and was right about to crawl into bed when it occurred to her that she should say goodnight to her ailing brother and wish him well.  He’d appreciate that, she thought.  So, intending to be in and out in a short minute, she’d gone up to Jack’s door.
	There, she heard the noises.  There was some unintelligible whispering, muffled by a backdrop of slaps and a sound like a wet sponge being wrung over and over.  Then, Annelise caught whiff of that same, strange scent she’d smelled at the dinner table, only now it had grown far more pungent, hanging in the air and filling her nostrils.  But, she didn’t linger on her curious pondering for long, and knocked gently against the door.
	There was no response.  The indeterminate cacophony played on.
	But what a mistake it had been for Annelise to open the door.
	Now, she saw the truth of it.  Not ten feet away, her brother stood behind Elizabeth, both of them naked, Jack with something of his stuck inside their babysitter’s upturned bottom.  It only took them a moment to notice Annelise had discovered them, and both quickly grew expressions of complete dread.  While their gazes locked, Jack’s thing began sliding…and sliding and sliding, out of Elizabeth, like the python she’d once seen on that nature show.  It looked somehow angry, expressive with its bulging veins, eventually ending in a gumdrop-shaped tip that was surely bigger than her own fist.  Immediately, out of this swollen tip, sprayed an incredible, massive strand of white liquid.
	Jack’s face contorted as the milky fluid roped out of the enormous thing between his legs, shooting for the ceiling and arcing down to the floor.  Was he peeing?  And why was his thing so big?  Despite how little Annelise knew, she vaguely understood that Jack's endowment was much larger than it should have been.  Her brother squirted his powerful jets without ebbing, each pearly stream sounding like ketchup being squeezed from a bottle, the grapefruit-sized balls between his legs jostling with each massive throb.
	Elizabeth was still on the floor, tummy-down with her big, heart-shaped butt pointed toward Jack.  When her brother had popped free, Annelise briefly saw the babysitter's hole, stretched remarkably wide, big enough to fit somebody's arm inside.  Then, with a noise like bubbling magma, thick, copious amounts of Jack's creamy fluid came spewing out of her, gushing and oozing down the dramatic contours of her hips and bottom, trickling through the small of her back along the bowed contour of her spine.
	Paralyzing fear swept through Annelise, who had quickly realized this was something she hadn't been meant to see.  With every intake of air, her small body shuddered.  She felt panic and shame and...
	There was something else, as well.  It was a sensation with which Annelise was unfamiliar, and one she couldn't quite articulate, fluttering in the pit of her stomach, reaching warmly into the spot between her legs.  She felt tingly, almost in a good way, though she couldn't have guessed why.  Something in the sordid display ahead of her seemed to be triggering this alien response, concealing it beneath trembling layers of horror.
	Still, whatever this feeling was, it couldn't temper the ice forming in Annelise's veins.  She was going to get into trouble for this, she just knew.  She took a slow step back.
	"Leesy..." Elizabeth croaked.
	How could she call her Leesy now?  That was a pet name—a term of endearment!  Now, while she was laid out naked in front of Jack, having just finished doing...something with him, she had the nerve to address Annelise using a nickname?
	She backed up another step, eyeing her brother and her babysitter, and then took off, sprinting for her room.  Too many thoughts exploded into her brain.  Everything was ending, she thought.  Nothing was ever going to be the same, ever!  Reaching her door, Annelise darted inside, slamming it behind her, flicking off the lights, and leaping into bed.  She wrapped herself in the sheets, rolling up into a cushiony safe zone, closing herself off from the world.
	Here, it could all truly sink in.  Annelise wasn’t sure when she’d started sobbing, but she was now.  Gasping raggedly, she did all she could to console herself, though it wasn’t much.  Between sniffles, the scene kept replaying.  She couldn’t blink without suddenly seeing Jack sticking himself deep into Elizabeth, or seeing his privates in all their monstrous enormity, attached to Jack's still-scrawny frame, firing impossible loads of that white juice...
	But again, Annelise's troubled heart felt eased by that implacable sensation she'd felt amid the panic and confusion.  Her gasps slowly relaxed into protracted sighs, as that faint tingle returned to her.  She still saw flashes of her brother and Elizabeth, of their naked transgression,  but as she explored and contemplated on them, the sensation grew somehow more distinct.  Deconstructing the situation seemed to help; picturing Jack's tall, proud appendage, and Elizabeth's round, graceful rump.  Reimagining the powerful, musky aroma they'd given off, Annelise felt a small jolt run down her spine, causing her hips to contract.  Her breath was slowing, even while the picture she'd stumbled upon filled her head, playing on constant repeat.  Though still shaken, Annelise felt herself regaining control and letting up on the bedsheets.
	She rolled onto her back, soothing her hot, sore throat with deep, cool breaths.  The narrow space between her legs still felt funny, but she chalked it off to her coming down from a good cry.  Already, she was feeling better.
	Some time passed, and a couple rooms over, Annelise could hear the shower in her parent’s room come on.  She listened to the muffled cadence for several minutes, letting the white noise purge her mind until it switched off with a slight lurch in the pipes.  Then, there was silence.
	Until a soft knock came on the door.
	The lump reemerged in Annelise's throat.  She took another congested sniff, feeling a tired throb near the base of her skull.  She didn't want to be talked to; she just needed to be left to her thoughts.
	"Annelise?"
	It was Elizabeth.  Another knock followed.
	“Honey, may I please come in?”
	Annelise kept quiet, her eyes anchored to the ceiling.  A wooden creak skittered through the silent room as a narrow band of light seeped in from the hallway, widening as the babysitter tiptoed inside.  Quietly, Elizabeth closed the door.  The babysitter’s profoundly curvaceous figure entered her periphery.
	“Hey…” Elizabeth whispered, taking a large seat on the bed and resting a comforting hand on Annelise’s.
	Annelise couldn’t say anything.  No words seemed appropriate.
	Elizabeth seemed to be having trouble speaking as well.  She absentmindedly stroked the little girl’s fingers, her head hung.
	“I’m…so, so sorry you had to see that,” the older girl apologized, sounding entirely sincere.  “I…can’t imagine how horrible…”
	Elizabeth’s fingers stopped, limp against Annelise’s hand.  Annelise averted herself from the ceiling, and found Elizabeth hunched forward with a hand over her face.  Faintly, the young girl noticed the sitter’s back and sloped shoulders shuddering.  Elizabeth’s hand slipped away from Annelise, disappearing into her silhouette.
	She was crying.
	Annelise couldn’t usually handle crying people.  She was at a very empathetic age, where one person’s sadness could very easily afflict her as well.  And yet, seeing Elizabeth broken down in front of her, she felt uncharacteristically brave.  Lifting herself onto her elbows, she sat up, her feet nuzzling against Elizabeth’s very round hip, and wrapped her little arms around her babysitter’s waist.
	Annelise rested her head against Elizabeth’s bathrobed side, sensing the young woman’s distressed heart.  With a squeeze, she clung to the sitter’s side, doing all she could to bring her calm.  A sleeved arm brushed against Annelise’s back, wrapping around her body and keeping her close.  The younger girl could feel the stress and sadness in Elizabeth’s bones starting to subside, if only by a little bit.  It was okay.  These things took time.
	“I forgive you,” Annelise muttered into Elizabeth’s ribs, snuggling her face against the terry cloth.
	Elizabeth brushed the sides of her nose and craned her body toward Annelise, flinging both arms around the little girl.  Atop Annelise’s head suddenly rested two immense masses, softly roofing her within Elizabeth’s hold.  What on earth—?
	“Ah,” Elizabeth gasped, “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
	She leaned away, freeing Annelise, who just then realized the extent of Elizabeth’s “allergies.”  The biggest pair of boobies she’d ever seen or could even have imagined were on her babysitter, only half-covered by her mother’s bathrobe, round and creamy in the faint moonlight.  Maybe she was dreaming, or delirious from what she’d caught Elizabeth and Jack doing.  They were massive, like fleshy planets nudged together!  How was it that Jack and Elizabeth suddenly had gigantic privates?  Even Annelise’s young, impressionable mind had too much trouble simply accepting these transformations as something that could just happen!
	“Do you want to talk about what you saw?” Elizabeth rasped, running a hand through Annelise’s blonde locks.
	Annelise impulsively shook her head, and drew herself back into Elizabeth’s protruding chest, snuggling her and sinking into the soft, recently-showered space between the sitter’s mounds, where she could again feel her heartbeat.  She felt Elizabeth recoil for a moment, and then slowly relax, once more wrapping her arms around her.
	“Hey,” the sitter whispered, laying a hand on Annelise’s head, “would you like to sleep next to me tonight?”
	Annelise pulled herself from Elizabeth’s cavernous cleavage, smiling and offering her a tiny nod.  Patting her on the back, Elizabeth rocked herself forward and rose to her feet, revealing her mesmerizing outline.  Annelise was reminded of a tall vase, curving gracefully and provocatively, pinching into a slender middle before flaring out again.  Elizabeth extended a hand, which Annelise shyly took, setting her dainty feet on the floor.
	Hand-in-hand, they walked into the hallway, down past the doors and paintings to her parents’ room.  Along the way, Annelise couldn’t help but notice Elizabeth’s funny walk, as though she were trying to hold something invisible between her thighs.  They stepped inside the bedroom, Elizabeth closing the door with a quiet click.  Annelise glanced up at their joined hands, up Elizabeth’s arm, meeting the sitter’s soothing expression.
	Without warning, Elizabeth bent her knees and scooped Annelise into her arms, pressing the girl against her bounteous chest.  Annelise giggled uncontrollably, wriggling as Elizabeth slung her across her shoulder, chuckling fiendishly.  They wobbled up to the bed, where Elizabeth playfully tossed the girl onto the mattress before climbing on herself.
	Still fighting the giggles, Annelise curled up facing Elizabeth, who laid on her side with a hand to prop her head.  She felt a yawn coming on, and took it while staring drowsily at the babysitter’s huge, jello-y chest pillows.  They were so soft and comfortable-looking…
	Inching up, the sleepy-headed girl quickly buried her head into Elizabeth’s giant chest.  She wrapped her arm around the cushiony mass, clinging and squeezing to keep herself planted.  They were softer than any pillow, warmer than any blanket, and smelled faintly of rose-petals.  As Annelise cuddled against Elizabeth’s breasts, she again felt that nagging sensation acting up between her legs.  She almost wanted to touch where it was, but it was in a private place, and she’d always been told not to touch there.
	A soft moan escaped Elizabeth, drawing Annelise’s attention.  She saw the older girl’s face had flushed red, and her lips had gently parted, showing just the pearly edges of her teeth.  Perhaps something was wrong.
	“Are you okay?” Annelise asked, still holding the fleshy pair.
	“Mmph,” Elizabeth swallowed, “that just tickled…”
	A grin crossed Annelise’s face, “Really?”
	Elizabeth had no time to react as Annelise resumed ferociously snuggling her way into the engorged bust.  The little girl squirmed, and grabbed, and licked the enveloping mounds, doing every possible thing she could to tickle the sitter.  More noises left Elizabeth, none of which were like any noise one would usually make while being tickled.  Suddenly, Annelise felt the older girl lift her knee and pin her down with her thigh.
	“Ooooohhhh!”
	A pair of warm trickles ran against Annelise’s arms.  Momentary confusion stunned her, but she then quickly scrambled away, sitting up.  She saw Elizabeth twist onto her back, panting, allowing her gigantic boobs to flop out of the bathrobe.  The sitter rested one hand against her chest, and with the other pulled the bottom of the robe over her privates, though she could hardly yank it past her incredibly wide hips.  Then, Annelise saw what had trickled onto her.
	Out of Elizabeth’s pink, puffed-up nipples streamed thick, white rivulets.
	“Is that…” Annelise stumbled on her words, “is that milk?”
	Elizabeth’s tremendous chest rose and fell as she gasped.  The hand she’d laid on her chest dragged down to her nipple, dabbing some of the creamy-looking liquid.  Between the sitter’s thighs, Annelise noticed traces of a clear liquid.
	“I’m sorry…” Elizabeth whispered, turning her head as though she were about to cry again.  “I’m so sorry…”
	Annelise crawled forward, carefully saddling herself on top of Elizabeth’s waist.  Trying the most comforting expression she could muster, the little girl leaned down and embraced her sitter, laying herself within the valley between her pancaked breasts.  She felt anxious hands tremble up her sides, very carefully cradling her small body.
	She wasn’t sure what then drove her, but Annelise shifted herself and hefted in one of Elizabeth’s massive jugs, planting her lips around the pap.  Elizabeth whimpered, covering her mouth as the little girl suckled at her swollen nipple.  Annelise closed her eyes, drinking in the sweet, delicious nectar that frothed and squirted into her mouth.  She massaged the sitter’s breast with her petite hands, working out thicker and faster streams.  The fat nipple almost didn’t fit inside Annelise’s tiny mouth, but she managed to get her tongue beneath it, and swirled it around its rough, wet edges.
	As Elizabeth’s milk filled Annelise’s stomach, the sensation in her undies flared.  The vague tingling grew into a more pronounced buzz.  She instinctively spread her little legs, pressing her crotch against the slope of Elizabeth’s hip.  Sharp pleasure radiated into her body as she rubbed herself against the older girl.  Fluttering butterflies filled the young girl’s stomach as she struggled to cope with the sudden, incomparable feelings of joy between her thighs.  Filled with spirit, Annelise reached for Elizabeth’s other boob and brought the twin masses together, squeezing their bloated nips against each other.  Opening as wide as she possibly could, the eight-year-old crammed the fleshy nubs into her mouth.
	Writhing beneath Annelise, Elizabeth moaned without inhibition.  Her ultra-voluptuous hips conformed with the rest of her body, laying face up.  Annelise felt the larger girl moving herself, lifting and spreading her legs until her knees rested near her shoulders with her feet in the air.  Sliding down a bit, Annelise’s underwear met Elizabeth’s nude crotch.  Their unmentionables ground together, blasting Annelise with off-the-scale waves of euphoria.  She kept her mouth sealed to Elizabeth’s bunched-together paps, sucking and swallowing down every last drop of her sleepy-tasting cream to keep the immolating spirit alive.
	As the girls rubbed their loins into one another, Annelise detected a spreading wetness between them.  Barely able to glance down, she caught a short glance of clear, copious fluid pooling between them, staining the younger girl’s panties dark.  A glistening nub protruded from the crest of Elizabeth’s vagina, throbbing so intensely Annelise could feel it against herself like a pulse.  It was all too much to wrap her young mind around.  The pleasure burning inside her raged and raged, reaching such a state that she couldn’t imagine anything that could possibly feel greater.  It was a feeling that blew everything else out of the water, one that mounted higher and stronger even when the thought of anything greater seemed—
	In a single moment, all conception of the world around Annelise vanished, and was replaced by the shrieking white sun of ecstasy that exploded between her thighs.  Beyond her control, the muscles in her tummy, her hips, her thighs, her entire body seized viciously.  Her vagina, which had until now been to her a source of contemplation and relative uselessness, was alive with the single most overwhelmingly wonderful emanation she had ever known.
	And it wasn’t over in that single moment.  Even before her muscles could relax, they retracted, triggering the heavenly anomaly all over again.  Annelise ground herself so aggressively into Elizabeth, she thought she might bore right through her.  Elizabeth’s swollen nipples at last popped free of the girl’s sore jaw, still projecting flailing jets of milk as her corpulent breasts slapped down against her body.  Arching her back and biting her lip, Annelise let herself completely go, and rode the rippling, throbbing wave into unbridled, unrivaled bliss.
	It seemed at some point that she had lapsed and fallen against Elizabeth’s smooth, flat stomach.  Lifting her heavy eyelids, Annelise saw her babysitter very quietly tasting the air, still rosy in the cheeks.  A kind of dank smell filled the air, but she didn’t quite mind.  The hotspot between her thighs yet quivered, offering the faintest echoes of the shockwave that had taken her young body.
	A bad night had suddenly turned good.  If what she’d just experienced with Elizabeth was anything like what Jack had, then she could easily forgive him too.  In a big way, the young girl felt very much closer to Elizabeth than she had before.  Even at her age, Annelise understood they had just shared something wonderful.
	Nestling her tired head against her older friend’s respiring chest, she closed her eyes and gently drifted off.Friday, 9:12pm

	Elizabeth ran her tired fingers through Annelise’s young, blonde hair, caressing the little girl while she snoozed atop the babysitter’s chest.  Her legs were still saddled widely across Elizabeth’s hips, her nubile pussy still nuzzled against hers, twitching intermittently.
	Of all the ways things could have gone, Elizabeth couldn’t have guessed they’d end with little Leesy’s first orgasm.  She'd shown remarkable voracity, mounting Elizabeth's larger, stronger body and riding it like a pro.  There’d been no hesitation as Annelise groped and manhandled Elizabeth’s fat tits, milking her like a cow.  Perhaps there was a stranger side of Annelise hidden beneath all the layers of innocence and naïveté.  Elizabeth cradled the child with her bent legs, cushioning her between her shapely thighs, clutching the girl to her nakedness.  The babysitter's fat nipples stood firm, lightly perspiring with her milk.  A lingering heat simmered where their privates touched.
	The knot in Elizabeth’s stomach had begun to loosen.  When Annelise had discovered her and Jack doing hyper-anal, it should’ve been all over.  Elizabeth should have gathered her things and fled to a faraway place.  But now, after a uniquely strange reconciliation, she believed they would all be on good terms again.  Maybe, everything would be all right.
	It recurred to her that Jack and Annelise were supposed to be a sacred responsibility, entrusted unto Elizabeth by their parents.  Her one job was to watch after them and protect them, not to take both of their virginities.  Until last night, that had never, ever been her intention.  In the two years she’d been sitting for the Princes, Elizabeth had been a perfectly rational and controlled individual.  Seeing things the way they were now forced Elizabeth to recall her first time caring for these kids.
	Jack had been eight years old then, and immediately wary of Elizabeth’s authority.  Annelise was nearly non-existent, so quiet and withdrawn was she.  At first blush, the arrangement might have looked bleak, but Elizabeth never once let herself be discouraged.  Children were impressionable, and if she was friendly toward them, she was convinced they would in turn be amicable toward her.  Every once or twice a month, she brought her best attitude and sunniest disposition to Jack and Leesy, aiming to be a positive influence on their development.
	If these kids were in fact impressionable, what consequences would be in store now?
	A set of knocks, followed by a splintering noise, echoed from the floor below.
	Elizabeth’s eyes flashed open, her musings shattered.  The noise didn’t seem to have disturbed Annelise, who slept on.  Softly rolling the girl off of her and onto the mattress, the curvaceous babysitter shot to her feet.  Her ears probed the relative silence, listening for more.
	Muffled thumps traveled below.  Elizabeth began breathing quickly, trying to keep quiet.  Someone was breaking into the house!  Skimming the bedroom, she searched for something—anything she might use as a weapon.  The handset was not in its charger, still downstairs from when Elizabeth had called Jack’s school.  Her cellphone was also down there, in her bag.  Calling the police meant either sneaking past or confronting this home invader.  Spying an egg-shaped vase on the nearby dresser, Elizabeth toed over and took it in her trembling hand.  It was ceramic, and weighed about as much as a sizable stone.  She hoped it wasn’t too valuable.
	Swallowing her fear, Elizabeth crept into the hallway and toward the stairs.  Should she have locked the kids somewhere?  Maybe she should have gotten them out through the upstairs porch and gone to a neighbor.  Doubt and fear rattled her as she reached the staircase.
	Elizabeth’s heart punched in her chest.  She could hear some slow rifling going on downstairs.  The vase was slippery against her perspiring palm.  She glanced at the first-floor landing, but caught no sign of anyone moving.  Still guarded, she fastened a hand over the bathrobe’s sash and dipped her toes down a step.
	What sounded like feet seemed to migrate into the living room, creaking faintly on the hardwood.  Elizabeth set down on the floor, and silently strode across the vestibule, flattening her butt against the wall.  Beside her shoulder laid the threshold into the living room, and beyond that surely stood this mystery prowler.  Had she felt able to make any noise, she might have been hyperventilating.  She needed to remind herself, again and again, that the Princes had left their home and their children under her protection,  Elizabeth had a responsibility to confront this individual.
	Clutching the vase, the babysitter whipped around the corner with her gruffest “Hey!”
	Elizabeth hadn’t had a clear picture of what she expected this intruder to look like, but she quickly figured she’d have missed the mark.  A neon-blue-haired woman, nude and hefting a stack of the family’s blankets in her arm, toppled over the sofa, flinging her legs through the air and tumbling onto the floor with a heavy thump.
	Stunned by the show, Elizabeth stood, rooted in place, still gripping the vessel.  She breathed raggedly, grew cold, and ground her teeth.  What was even happening?  Who was in the house?
	The naked woman shifted, and picked herself off the floor.  She stood hunched and wide-legged, defensively postured.  Red tattoos wove and spiked across her lithe, pale body.  Her skin was coated with water droplets, and she smelled crisply of the wet outdoors.  She looked to be about her own age, Elizabeth thought.  What was a young woman like this doing naked in the suburbs on a rainy night?
	“Right…” the blue-headed girl gasped, raising her palm, “This deserves an explanation.”
	Elizabeth drew her breath, still ready to club the vase over the other girl’s head.  “Who-who are you?”
	The naked girl touched her hand to her chest.
	“Clara,” she said, “and I’m not from around here.”
	Elizabeth stood paralyzed.  Her body shivered, her skin seemed to curdle.  She wished she wasn’t wearing just this bathrobe.
	“I promise, I don’t mean to cause trouble,” Clara said.  “In fact, I’m here to help.”
	“Help?” Elizabeth blurted.  “You broke into this house—it’s not even my house!  Please, you can’t—”
	“You and the boy who lives here,” Clara interrupted, motioning Elizabeth down, “the both of you recently underwent some rapid developments.”
	The words were caught in Elizabeth’s throat.  Her hand closed tighter over the robe.
	“Last night,” Clara said, “for no reason, you two started changing, transforming.”
	“That’s right…” Elizabeth murmured.  Was this girl sent by some secret, naked agency?
	“I know why it happened,” Clara explained.  “I think, maybe, I can help you reverse these  changes, but I would really appreciate some clothes.”
	After an unclear span of seconds, Elizabeth set the vase on the sofa’s side-table.  She only now noticed that Clara, too, was shaking.  Not shocking, considering she’d been buck nude outside.
	“Come…come with me,” Elizabeth stammered, leading out of the room.  On their way, she took her messenger bag from one of the dining chairs by its strap.  She wasn’t going to need her old wardrobe for the foreseeable future, she thought, so Clara may as well have it.
	Elizabeth flipped the switch as they stepped into the laundry room.  She grabbed one of the folded bath towels from atop the dryer and handed it off to Clara, who was clinging to herself for warmth.  The blue-haired girl speedily cloaked herself in the cloth and sat on the floor.  Elizabeth searched her bag, retrieving a gray long-sleeved shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans, and her yellow-striped panties.  She laid the articles before Clara, who appeared to be huddled for her life.
	“So, where are you from?” Elizabeth asked, leaning her pert posterior against the washing machine.
	Clara drew closed the towel.  “Far away…sort of.  Maybe we’ll leave it at that.”
	“Really?” Elizabeth asked, folding her arms beneath her pouting chest.  “Y’know, you broke and entered, I think you owe me more than that.”
	“You won’t believe me,” Clara shuddered.
	“Yesterday, my body looked like yours, now…” Elizabeth ran her hands along her hourglass shape for emphasis.  Clara eyed her strangely.  Self-conscious again, Elizabeth clasped the robe together.
	“I’ll believe anything.”
	Clara took a thoughtful pause, and then, “It’s a place called the Feymarch.  It exists in a space parallel to your own.”
	Elizabeth curled her lip.  Certainly, it was unbelievable…
	But really now.
	“Okay, Elizabeth tilted her head.  “So, that makes you…?”
	“The common term is ‘Fairy.’” Clara murmured.
	Elizabeth felt she herself was handling this information quite well.  She kept nodding, recrossing her knees.  Clara at last unwrapped the towel, and bent ahead for the folded panties.
	“You probably have questions,” the so-called Fairy said, sliding the underwear over her tattooed cootch, “whether or not you believe me.”
	“As a…Fairy, you use magic?” Elizabeth asked.
	Clara gave the elastic a sharp strum against her creamy hips.  “We do, yes.”
	“And, this magic was used on me and Jack?”
	Uhh…” Clara struggled for a moment getting into the jeans.  “Yes.”
	Elizabeth picked up the shirt, offering it to the girl.  “Why?”
	Clara worked the proper body parts through the sleeves and neck, at last prevailing.  “It gets complicated there.”
	“I can listen,” Elizabeth insisted, re-folding her arms, hefting her bust.
	Clara paced about the doorway, hands on her hips.  Though she moved a bit awkwardly, she wore the outfit well.  Elizabeth had once considered dying her own hair blue or silver, but had ultimately chickened out.  Now, seeing this vague reflection of her former self, she thought maybe it wouldn’t have been such a terrible idea.
	“Maybe we should make ourselves more comfortable,” Elizabeth suggested, gesturing out the door.
	Nodding, Clara stood aside.  Elizabeth squeezed past the girl, unable to avoid nudging her with her hip, and led her back into the living room.
	A long night looked to be in store, but if this strange girl was all she claimed to be and did in fact know all about the circumstances surrounding Elizabeth and Jack, it would at least be well-spent.

	“Diana Athenon!”
	Diana ascended the white steps, wearing her usual smirk.  Even without her gargoyle-winged presence, the Headmistress’s audience chamber would have been grim and foreboding.  Despite the elegance the room intended to convey, it suffered the elder woman’s spartan preference.  No natural light seeped into the echoing passageway, no carpet to soften the walk or add some color.  Once, this chamber had been a sanctum into which only the most daring or unfortunate academy students ever journeyed.  Still a heart of darkness in every regard, it was now closed to the student body, and served instead as the headstone to Athenon’s imagined world order.
	“I understand I’ve been called to the principal’s office,” Diana grinned, swinging her formidable hips.
	The Headmistress sat at the top in her alabaster throne, glaring down her nose at her daughter.  Angry again, it seemed.  Diana folded her arms as she summited the staircase, cradling her chest.  Agru stood off to the side, watching her with hands on her magnificent hips.
	“Agru has told me you sent Thraughte back into the Netherrealm,” Athenon growled.
	Diana offered a tip of her head.  “Agru could have stopped me if she so wished.”
	Athenon spindled her fingers against her forehead, wincing.
	“Diana…” she murmured.  “There was an understanding that if I gave you command of the Faeons, you would follow my instructions.”
	“Clara was a threat to your designs,” Diana replied, shifting her hips.  “I had believed you’d appreciate being rid of her.”
	“Agru,” Athenon said out the corner of her mouth, “you are dismissed.”
	The immense Faeon warrior nodded, bundling herself in her wings.  She marched, brushing eyes with Diana before departing down the stairs.  Agru’s crushing footsteps wound away, disappearing into the next room.
	Athenon rose from her seat, formidable even in her concealing gown.
	“Are you trying to destroy us?” she hissed, stalking toward her daughter.
	Diana’s hands curled into fists, though her expression kept cool.  “While you sit here, mother, I have been doing everything for you.”
	“I couldn’t have been clearer,” the Athenon chomped.  “I told you the girl’s family was prominent!  It was a grave enough risk involving her in this at all, but I let you do it!  Now you’ve exiled her—what are we going to do when her parents realize their daughter’s gone missing?  There will be investigations, Diana, government authorities are going to search for her, and they’ll come for us first!”
	“Give it a rest, mother.”
	Athenon was stunned.  Fury was written into her lines.
	“You are insolent,” she spat.  “You’ve used the power I’ve given to suit your own hedonism!  How could I possibly have trusted you?”
	“You trusted me,” Diana spired, “because no one else would have condoned your insane scheme!  You needed me, mother, by sheer virtue of my so-called hedonism!”
	Athenon thrust her palm forward, striking Diana’s sternum.  Diana choked on her breath, feeling her force of will being siphoned away into her mother’s glowering hand.  Shimmering cerulean mist smoldered past her lips and tear-ducts.  With a sharp clutch, her mother forced her to her knees.  Diana’s body stung agonizingly, twisting her expression out of shape.  She felt cold—deadened.
	The humbling slab of meat between Diana’s legs was receding, vanishing into the same blue essence.  Her wings felt as if they were being burned away, withering to the bone.  Tearful grunts ricocheted in Diana’s throat.  She was being destroyed.  Her mother was stealing back everything she’d given her.
	Athenon released Diana, toppling her onto her side.  The pink-headed woman panted desperately.  She was no longer Faeon.  Her wings had returned to their glassy, dragonfly-state.  Her womanhood had been restored.  No more of the might and power.  No more perfection.
	“You deserve nothing!” Athenon snarled, clenching the magic into her fist.  “You are not my daughter!”
	As Diana’s brow peeled against the polished floor, as her body suppressed the ice in her pit, her bewildered, tormented swell of emotion polarized into hatred.  Raw energy flooded her veins, replacing all that her mother had taken.  The Headmistress was keeping her pleasures hostage.  She would pay.
	Climbing into a crouch, Diana cried out, arms shot forth and coursing with her power.  Athenon lifted an arm in defense, but not even she was prepared for her daughter’s onslaught.  Diana emptied her lungs, pouring all her remaining fire into her bellow.  She was a wild beast, battling for her basest desires, set upon one goal.  Her magic shrieked and blinded, engulfing the Headmistress in its awesomeness.
	Slamming her hands on the floor, Diana glared ahead, panting.  The light was fading.  The Headmistress was revealed, trapped in place, encased in polyphasic diamond.  She’d been caught mid-stumble, frozen in time.  Her hand and a half of her face were all that felt the air.  Athenon was powerless.
	Diana crept toward her mother.  The power rested within her.  All she wanted…all for her to take.  The fire-eyed woman reached out for her mother’s hand.  Her fingers wrapped around the Headmistress’s.
	The magic came surging back, filling Diana.  Her wings burst from her back, her cock sprung forth at full, gigantic mast, flexing and shining.  She moaned ecstatically, made high by the unreal exhilaration of the free power blasting into every cell.  Warm pleasure radiated from her loins into the steely tip of her dick.  Athenon’s magic seemed bottomless, losing none of its intensity even as it flowed into Diana.  It was altering her, more so than before.  The power swelled within her strong, shapely body.  The muscles in her ass grew tight, then her back, then her chest.
	Diana felt her cock growing somehow sturdier.  Her free hand landed on its base, testing its turgid surface.  It swelled at her touch.  It felt to her as though she were racing toward climax, only for the mind-blowing drive to taper off right before the edge, still going but never reaching its limit.  The meaty shaft was ballooning outward, growing longer and fatter.  Diana’s balls swelled and dipped, throbbing fiercely.  Her juices were dribbling out of her expanding beast by the cupful, despite her not having even achieved orgasm.  It grew and grew, darker than the rest of her body, wearing the wet sheen of her pre-ejaculate.
	A sudden twang went off in Diana’s body.  Her backed-up orgasm had at last broken through.  Her penis, as tall as her chin, buckled outward, giving out to the torrent flushing up her urethra.  She almost couldn’t stand.  Like a burst pipe, Diana came.  Seed thundered from her cock, firing vertically, storming down on the chamber.  The throbs came so quickly and so powerfully, it was almost impossible to distinguish one from the other.  It was crippling, excruciating glory.  Her pearly ropes waved all across the room, reaching as far as the walls and as high as the ceiling.  It slapped wherever it landed, leaving massive opaque puddles on the immaculate architecture.  Wailing out in ecstasy, Diana relinquished the Headmistress’s hand, collapsing onto her ass.
	When it was all over, the “sanctum” was caked entirely in Diana’s milk.  It hung from the stone arches, trickled down the marble steps, its thick smell weighing on the air.  Diana was at the center, on her back, temporarily short-circuited.  She stared above, the force of her climax still slowly registering.  Her proud, Faeon dong was interminably rigid, at the ready even after all that.  
	This was magic that needed to be shared.  Pleasure such as this far surpassed anything Diana could have imagined for their plan.  The campaign would begin anew.  The Humans would know what Diana knew.  They would live in this state of near-perpetual ecstasy.  The Netherrealm would become a place governed by pleasure, and the attainment thereof.
	And with Athenon out of the way, so too would the Feymarch.