brother-sister

Authors Note:



It has been a while since I posted the first chapter of this story. I apologize for the delay for those of who enjoyed the first installment. I hope everyone enjoys part two!




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“Oh, wow! I really scratched you up didn’t I?” my step sister Lisa asked me as she softly rubbed the scratch and bite marks on my body that she had given as we lie in the afterglow of the tremendous sex we just had a few minutes before hand.



“Yeah, they are bleeding still, but it was definitely worth it. Lisa I can’t believe that we just had sex and I am having a hard time getting my head around what you just told me about your friends.”



“Well if you think that was shocker, listen to this” Lisa said and then she proceeded to tell me the following story.



Lisa told me that as a present for her on her eighteenth birthday, my cousin Becky had taken Lisa out to the clubs and gotten her drunk and they ended up making love. I was shocked at this revelation because I thought Becky was a goody-two-shoes and that was the reason she never had a boyfriend. Lisa told me that Becky had confessed that she was confused and she like making love to women but that she also found men attractive even though she had never been with one. Lisa also told me that it all happened after she had confessed to Becky the truth about her watching me fuck her friends always being excited and having her best orgasms when she watched me. She even confessed that a couple of times she had gone down on her friends after they had been with me and she liked the taste of a woman every now and then. Lisa then told me that Becky found me attractive and wouldn’t mind if she and I and Lisa had a threesome so that she could try sex with a man and still be with a woman if she didn’t like it.



Two days after my encounter with my step-sister Lisa, my cousin Becky came to stay for the summer. Now Becky lived in the northern part of the state and came to visit us often, but she would be going to college in our town and was staying with us while she got everything ready for the upcoming school year.



Becky had been Lisa’s best friend since they met at fifteen and they did everything together whenever Becky would stay or when we would go up to visit her. So it was no surprise that as soon as Becky pulled her car into the driveway that Lisa was outside helping her with her bags. “Have I got something to tell you” Lisa said in an excited voice.



“Am I going to be shocked, encouraged, outraged or excited?” Becky asked.



Lisa replied with a wry smile, saying “not shocked really, but definitely a little surprised and a whole lot excited!” The two girls giggled and made a beeline for Lisa’s room.



It was clear by the conversation that Lisa and I had after our sexual encounter the other night that this gossip session would likely yield some fun times for me in the very near future. I was surprised to find, however; that when the two girls emerged from Lisa’s room they both totally ignored me. Now Becky and I were first cousins and I was one week older than her. We were never what you would call really close, but we stayed in touch and we did hang out when she was in town. The fact that Becky and Lisa became such good friends kind of surprised me since they were really nothing alike. Becky was a church-goer (which was why I always thought she was a goody two shoes) and Lisa did not even believe in God. Becky played sports and Lisa was in the choir and student council. They shopped at different stores and liked different foods but they still became the best of friends. They even looked completely different. Lisa was shorter and more athletic where Becky was taller and thinner. Becky had shoulder length hair that was jet black whereas Lisa had blonde hair down to the middle of her back and Becky’s eyes were blue and Lisa’s eyes were green. They were both very attractive young ladies though.



The silent treatment lasted the rest of the day and night and through the afternoon of the next day until about two o’clock when I finally decided to see why the two girls were ignoring me. I walked up to Lisa’s room and was about to knock on the door when I thought I heard a moan. Interested, I thought better of knocking and instead I checked the door handle and sure enough they had left it unlocked. I turned the handle slowly, trying desperately not to make any noises that would alert them to my presence in the doorway. Once I got the knob turned I pushed lightly on the door, hoping that the door would not stick. I was in luck, I got the door opened just enough for me to feast my eyes on my step sister and my cousin locked in a writhing 69. Lisa was on top and her ass was facing me while her pussy was planted firmly on Becky’s face and Becky was tonguing her from clitoris to anus. Based on the noises coming from Lisa I would say that she was enjoying every minute of it. As I watched them my dick got hard and I absently began stroking it under my gym shorts.



I rarely wore underwear under my shorts while I was around the house in the summer months as my dad was too cheap to run the ac until it was above 95 and the extra layer was just added discomfort. Right at that moment I was glad that I did not have any on, it made it easier to jerk my cock while I watched these two beautiful young girls do each other.



I must have watched for about ten or fifteen minutes and I was getting close to blowing my load when both girls screamed in orgasm and Lisa fell off to the side of Becky. Both girls lay there panting and running their hands over the other ones skin and seeing as I still wasn’t sure why they were ignoring me I thought I should retreat to my room before I got caught watching them. There was no need to piss them off and I wanted to bust my nut after watching them anyway. I went downstairs into my bedroom and finished jerking myself off while running the scene of those two making love through my head. After I was done I cleaned up the mess and turned on my TV and lay down on my queen size waterbed to watch a show and take a nap.



After a couple of hours of sleep I was awakened by a soft knock on the door. I opened my eyes and found Lisa standing in the doorway. She was wearing a long t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and even though she had no make-up on she was still hot. “What do you want?” I snapped at her. I was a little upset about being ignored for almost two days and I wanted her to know it. Although even as I snapped at her the sight of her was getting my sex engine going.



Lisa looked a little taken aback when I snapped at her but she quickly composed herself and said “I came to tell you that Becky said she saw you watching us and she for sure wants you to have a threesome with us. But if you are going to be a dick, I’ll tell her forget it.” Lisa had just given me the news that I was waiting for and my bad attitude was going to blow it.



“I’m sorry Lisa; I guess I was just a little upset that you guys were ignoring me. I can’t wait to get at the two of you.”



“Ok, well remember this; Beck has never been with a man before, although she isn’t technically a virgin either.” Seeing my confused look Lisa explained further. “She lost that with her ex-girlfriend. She was into strap-ons and she introduced Becky to them and Becky really liked them so they fucked each other with them all the time. She and I used one last night and it was ok. Different, but it still felt pretty good.”



The idea of seeing Lisa and Becky fuck with a strap-on was exciting to me so I asked if they would use it tomorrow and Lisa told me that she would ask Becky later but I shouldn’t count on it being that this was her first time with a man. She then instructed me to come to her room in the morning after our parents left for work. As she walked out of the room I let my imagination run wild with all the possibilities that our impending encounter might bring. I got myself so worked up thinking about fucking Lisa in the ass while she ate Becky out that I had to jerk off again. I fell asleep thinking that the morning could not come soon enough.



The next morning I woke at 11 am and I soon found out that the girls were both asleep still, and they had a surprise for me and not one I was going to enjoy either. Apparently one of Lisa’s other friends Beth had come over late the night before as she was asleep on the floor in Lisa’s room. I had had sex with Beth a few weeks ago and she was the last person I wanted to see in my sister’s room that morning. I closed my sister’s door and went to the kitchen to pour myself some cereal. I had just sat down to eat when I heard my sister’s door open and close and heard the shuffle of bare feet walking towards me. It was Beth, and she smiled at me as she walked to the fridge and helped herself to a Pepsi. “What do you want” I asked Beth in a slightly hostile tone. I was after all annoyed that she might be fucking up my threesome.



She looked at me and smiled “Is that how you talk to all the girls you fuck?” Beth asked me in a playful voice. Apparently she was amused by my hostility.



I didn’t realize it but the button of my boxers was undone and the head of my cock was poking out. When I stood up to put my bowl in the sink Beth noticed my cock poking out and she walked over to me and placed her hand inside my boxers, grabbing my cock. She looked up at me and said “How bout it big boy, you wanna go to your room?”



Beth had been aggressive sexually towards me from the first time we met. She was a pretty girl with smallish breasts, deep brown eyes, and short stylish brown hair. She only stood 4’11″ but she was a sexual dynamo. I thought about her offer for a second and was about to turn her down hoping the girls would wake up and we get our threesome on but my steadily hardening cock overrode that thought process. I nodded my head and Beth released my cock and started for the basement steps, the same walk that she had taken only a few weeks earlier.



As we got to the bottom of the steps Beth began to strip, not waiting to get in the bedroom. As we walked through the doorway she turned and dropped to her knees. After she relieved me of my boxer shorts she grabbed my cock and put the whole 8 inches in her mouth without hesitation. I almost blew my load right there. I was in heaven as she slowly sucked my cock in and out if her throat.



This was a side of Beth I had not seen before. We had only had sex once although we had fooled around a few times before that. I didn’t know what had gotten into her but I had never seen her so worked up. I would soon learn what the source of her excitement was; but first she sucked my cock like a pro until I couldn’t hold on any longer. I tapped her on the head and told her that I was about to cum. Instead of pulling my prick out of her mouth like I expected, she actually sucked it further into her throat. I think I screamed a little as I blew my nut into her mouth. As I was cumming she continued to milk my cock with her throat as she took every drop of sperm without any spillage.



As I stood there trying to maintain my balance, Beth got up from her knees and laid down on the bed. She looked and me and said in a commanding tone “now get over here and eat me.” I was entranced and intrigued by the new Beth. She had always been aggressive towards me but when it came down to the actual sexual encounters, she always let me take the lead. Now here she was taking control and I liked it, a lot.



I walked over to the bed and lay down on my stomach between her legs and began to kiss her stomach and thighs. She reached down and grabbed as much of my hair as she could get a hold of and forced my face into her pussy. “I said eat it, now eat it.” I licked her cleanly shaven pussy lips and worked my way towards the center of her pinkness. I slowly ran my tongue over her clit in a side to side motion and inserted a finger into her pussy. Then I sucked her love button in between my lips and gave it a light bite with my teeth. Beth let out a scream that could have woken the dead as she orgasmed on my face. Her body contorted and she rolled over on her side. That’s when I realized that we were being watched.



I heard clapping in the doorway and turned to see Lisa and Becky standing there watching with looks of approval on their faces. Beth sat up on the bed and said “that was amazing; you guys have got to try it.”



Becky and Lisa smiled at each other and walked into the room. I noticed that Becky was carrying a small black bag that looked a little like a mini gym bag with her. “I’m next little brother!” Lisa said to me as Becky walked to the side of the bed and sat her little bag on the bedside table and Lisa stripped off her shorts followed by her shirt. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath and I was treated to the beauty that was my sister’s naked body.



She laid back on the bed in the spot that Beth had just vacated and looked at me with wanting in her eyes as she spread her legs and exposed her shaven pussy to me. Without hesitation I began to lick Lisa’s sweet pussy and she reacted like a wild woman. I started flicking her clit with my tongue as I slid two fingers slowly inside her. She squirmed and moaned as I worked my magic and I kept up my attentions to her clitoris, occasionally trailing my tongue down to her sweet little pussy. Lisa yelled out “Eat me, oh God eat me!! I want to feel your tongue on my asshole!” I couldn’t dent my sister her pleasure so I proceeded to run my tongue around her marvelous little asshole. I flattened my tongue out and licked firm the base of her ass all the way to the top of her vagina and then back again. When I got back down to her asshole I decided to use my tongue to probe her and try to force my tongue insider her ass. Her reaction was swift and violent and apparently extremely pleasurable. She kicked her legs and pounded her fists and screamed that she was cuming and boy did she ever cum. She spasmed and shook and went silent, except for her ragged breathing. She lay there like that as I stood up, my cock at full attention, and admired my handy work.



Beth was the first to speak “Wow! I wish I would have had you do that the last time we fucked! I should have blown you too though so I guess we’re even but trust me I will do it next time!” I looked at Beth and basically ignored her because my attention was being drawn to Becky who was sitting on the little couch in my room completely naked, masturbating. Not only was I watching her finger herself but I was also seeing Becky naked for the first time and it was not what I expected at all. I assumed that she would have a thick messy bush seeing as how she was such a prude (please remember until a couple of days ago I thought she was a heterosexual and a virgin) but I was wrong. Becky had a stylishly trimmed patch of pubic hair cut into the shape of a small heart. Her breasts were also larger than I thought they would be, they weren’t huge but they were actually a little bigger than Lisa’s. Seeing as how Becky was so much skinnier than Lisa and with clothes on they appeared to be similar sized I was not really expecting them to be that noticeably bigger. I stood and stared as Becky manipulated her clitoris and slid three fingers in and out of her pussy. Without even realizing it I started to stroke my cock. Seeing this Beth decided that she would move in on me and started to run her tongue over the head of my prick as I moved my hand up and down the shaft. Now I know that I fucked Beth and I let her blow me a few minutes before, but in all honesty she was like the opening act at a concert and now that the headliners were here I was anxious to get on with the show.



Lisa came to rescue and grabbed Beth by the arm and pulled her onto the bed, pushing her flat on her back. As Beth went down Lisa reached over and pulled a small pink vibrator out of the little black bag and turned the base thus switching it on. I was still standing next to the bed watching Becky and stroking my cock. I guess Lisa thought I needed a little prodding so took that little pink vibrator and pressed it up to my asshole sending a pulse of electricity through me. I shuddered slightly and though I swatted her arm and pretended to be perturbed she could tell that I wasn’t really because to be honest it felt kind of good. I did, however; get the hint and took two steps towards Becky and knelt down on the floor in front of her. I took her hand and placed the fingers that she had been sliding in and out of herself in my mouth and sucked all her sweet fragrant juices from them. I then kissed her, softly at first but with growing passion and force. Becky removed her other hand from her clit and placed it on my butt, pulling me towards her forbidden love center where no man had ever ventured. As I inched my cock closer to her I could feel the heat emanating from her and see the small river of her sweet nectar pooling on the cushion beneath her small bottom. I wrapped my hand around my cock and guided it towards her small little opening. Slowly I inserted myself into her, just the head, then a little more and a little more until I was halfway inside her. She leaned back and wrapped her legs around my waist and with a force I had not thought possible she pulled me the rest of the way in. She sucked in a huge mouthful of air and looked at me with glazed eyes as she whispered “Fuck me, fuck me hard!” into the space between us and then laid her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes.



I heeded her command, withdrawing the entire length of my cock before ramming it back into her. I felt my cock hit the c bottom of her love canal and she tensed up in orgasm. I looked back onto the bed and Lisa was eating Beth while running the little pink vibrator over her clit. They seemed to be enjoying each other but their eyes were both locked on Becky and me. I then proceeded to fuck Becky with short fast thrusts which triggered another orgasm from her and left me biting my tongue to keep from cumming. Becky opened her eyes and looked at me and said “Stop, I want you to take me from behind.”



I pulled my cock out of her and she stood up. I watched as she turned around and lowered herself onto her knees with her bottom towards me and her upper half leaning on the back of the couch. I stepped up behind her and took me cock in my hand and slowly rubbed it up and down her slit for a few seconds which prompted a pleading look from Becky. I got the hint and slid my cock back up inside her wonderful pussy. Even as sopping wet as she was her snatch was as tight as any I had had before or since. I began thrusting inside her again and before long I could tell she getting close to an orgasm so I pulled back all the way so that only the very tip of my cock was inside her and rammed it home. Now I was expecting her to cum but I got a slightly different reaction from what I was expecting. Becky screamed as if she was in pain and pushed back at me with her hands as if she wanted me out of her and just as I was pulling out of her, her pussy erupted like a geyser sending spray after spray of girl cum onto the floor, the couch and me. I was in shock; I had never seen anything like it before. In fact at first I thought she had pissed every where. That was until Lisa jumped off the bed and let out an excited ‘OH MY GOD!! I love it when she does that!!!” Lisa then proceeded to lick Becky’s super soaked pussy clean as Becky lay there in a heap shaking uncontrollably. Beth was in just as much shock as I was and just laid on the bed watching Lisa lick Becky clean. Meanwhile; my cock was still as hard as a rock and covered in Becky’s cum. Lisa turned around and looked at my cock soaked n Becky’s juices and she put her tongue and lips on the side and begins running them up and down the shaft cleaning all the cum off. She then stands up and kisses me full on the mouth and gives me a surprise, Becky’s cum was still in her mouth. She stuck her tongue into my mouth and shared the sweet sticky substance with me and I have to admit I liked the taste of girl cum. Lisa then turned around and used one of her fingers to scoop up a little of the cum from the on the sofa and then knelt in front of me. She placed her hands on my bottom and swallowed my cock with her mouth. As she was expertly sucking my cock her fingers moved towards my asshole. I could feel her slightly part the cheeks and begin to rub her finger with the cum on it over my asshole. It was a strange sensation but it did feel pretty good so I let her continue. Besides at the rate she was sucking my cock I was going to cum any second anyway so what’s the harm? After a few seconds of her rubbing my hole I feel her begin to try and insert a finger into my rectum. I thought about stopping her but the blowjob felt sooooo good that I just couldn’t for fear she would stop blowing me. Before I knew it she had almost half her finger in my ass and I liked it, a lot. I said to her “Yeah baby, play with it play with my ass.”

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Author’s note



Part Seven moves the story to Spring. It is not necessary for you to have read earlier parts of the story, though things may make more sense if you have.



This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.



All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.



As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I’ll try to respond in a timely manner.



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After he finished saying goodbye to Mary Donovan, Cahill returned to Savannah. The two cities were a thousand miles apart, but his house might as well have been just across the street from her apartment. All he’d had to do was remember her place, call to mind the way it looked and smelled, and the distance had melted away.



Getting back to Faerie wasn’t much different. It was the first time he made the trip on his own, in broad daylight. Without that floating orb of silvery light to lead him. But there was no longer any need for such. He knew the way. As surely as he’d ever known anything.



He didn’t take anything with him. No clothes, no cell phone, none of his equipment for making flutes, nothing. He’d have no need of it. Mary could sell his things, keep them, or give them away, as she saw fit. The same went for his house and the money in his savings account. It made no difference to him.



As he had so many times before, and as he never would again, Cahill walked into the woods at the edge of his property.



Familiar as the start of the journey was, though, he soon found himself entering a world he’d never encountered before. Or experiencing a world he knew well in an entirely different way. He couldn’t really be sure which it was.



The small, sparse woods behind his house gave way to a thick, sprawling forest, teeming with life. As it should have. But the forest was different. Familiar footpaths were nowhere to be seen. Giant boulders covered in moss appeared where he expected to find none. The rivers and ponds, rope-bridges and clearings, all seemed to have moved around. Cahill found fewer piles of stones and none of the carvings in tree trunks that had once marked paths. Where once the forest showed signs of having been braved, if not tamed, by men, it now looked pristine and unspoiled. Cahill could almost believe that he was the first two-legged beast ever to set foot inside.



That wasn’t the only difference though. Nor even the biggest.



The dank musk filling his nostrils was thicker, more pungent. The greens were deeper, save where they were brighter, giving the forest a less monochromatic look.



Eventually, Cahill realized that he was experiencing everything in greater detail. Different though the forest was, so too was the man walking through it. His eyes saw trees a dozen yards away as though they’d stood just beyond arms’ length. His skin felt the lightest breeze as keenly as if it were a full gust of wind. The sounds of the forest critters were louder. The call of faraway birds sounded as clear as if they were right overhead. Yet somehow, the flood of sensory information wasn’t overwhelming.



It felt right.



Faerie was welcoming him home. Reaching out to Cahill, sharing itself with him. Joining its senses to his. He wasn’t dreaming of Faerie this time. He was reclaiming it, as surely as it was him. Taking it inside, making it a part of him, just as he was becoming a part of the world of his birth again.



He thought perhaps he understood better now why this world was known as Spring elsewhere in the Homelands. Whatever else the old tales had gotten right, they’d been sorely mistaken about that. The fey could never be divided into Seelie and Unseelie, Summer and Winter. Midsummer would never come to this land. Everything was green and new, young and vibrant, and would forever be.



And that wasn’t just true of the Emerald Court. It couldn’t have been. Though Cahill had never seen the other parts of Faerie, and had only met one person who hailed therefrom, he knew, just knew, that they were the same. All the lands of Faerie were places of rebirth and revitalization, renewal and rejuvenation. Nothing else would suit the fey.



How had he never noticed all this before? Had he ever even set foot inside Faerie proper?



After a time, Cahill’s thoughts turned to the family that hadn’t quite fully introduced him to this world. Why was no one waiting to greet him, as they always had in the past?



Just as he was beginning to wonder if it would be okay to disturb the tranquil forest by announcing his presence, a nearby tree opened up. Its bark split with a soft rip and the a low, reverberating moan filled the air as the trunk spread apart. Fiona stepped out and the proud oak pulled itself back together as seamlessly as water rushing in behind an oar.



“Well, I’ll be,” his sister said, smiling from ear to ear. “Here you are, in the flesh.”



“That’s right,” Cahill replied.



He imagined his sister letting out a high-pitched squeal before running over to him, throwing her arms around him, and hugging him tight. Perhaps showering him with kisses. But that would not be like Fiona at all. Other guys’ sisters might have done something like that, but not his graceful lady of the forest.



Still, once she closed the distance between them, Cahill gathered his tiny little big sister in his arms and swung her about. Though he knew her to be older than him, she looked as though she were a decade his junior. And though she was incredibly curvaceous, she stood nearly a foot shorter than him and weighed a good hundred pounds less. Stately and serene, wise and mature, no more excitable than a stone, Fiona was no little girl. But, in that moment, she might as well have been, so far as he was concerned. And he didn’t care how embarrassing she might find it to be treated as such.



Nor did she, it seemed. Her smile had faded to a slight grin, but there was no displeasure on her pretty face, nor in her Libido. Just this one time, he could be forgiven.



As Cahill set her back down on the soft dirt, his sister rubbed one of his round biceps and said, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you here, Kay. To have you back with us, for good and true. Mom’s going to go crazy.” Then Fiona punched him. Hard. “That’s for keeping us waiting so long, you big oaf!”



He laughed as he rubbed his arm. The blow had hurt, but mostly because it had taken him by surprise. So much for not being excitable. Small as her fists were, though, and as modest as her upper body strength was, it would have taken a lot more than she had to give for Fiona to really cause him pain.



“Sorry bout that,” he said.



“Yeah, I bet you are,” Fiona grumbled as she glared up at him.



Despite her tone, the gentle pulsating rhythm inside told the truth. A deep contentment filled his sister. All was right with the world, so far as she was concerned.



Cahill was flattered enough by that. He didn’t need her to be exuberant.



Her thick, glossy hair was in one of its green phases. The feel of her soft body pressed against his made his loins stir. Though he’d just noted her lack of upper body strength, he was keenly aware of the thick muscles in her shapely legs and her outsized ass. Her lower body wasn’t as hard as Liadan’s, but he liked the combination of thick muscle and soft padding. Her ass was big and perfectly shaped, yet pleasantly soft. His hands, poised at the small of her back, ached to reach down and take hold of it.



A hint of what passed for perfume, a mix of flowers and berries, mint and tea leaves, teased his nostrils. Her smell was unconventional, but not at all in a bad way. Earthy and natural, sweet yet subtle, and unmistakeably Fiona. It made him think of burying his head between her soft, milky white thighs. And reminded him of everything he admired about her. Her deep connection with nature, her refusal to be anything other than who she was, even if that would have meant that few men would chase after her the way they did Oona.



Their aunt was an incredible woman. Free-spirited, endlessly imaginative, and beautiful. But he was still glad that it was his sister who would welcome him home and not his aunt.



Of course, he’d have really preferred to see his mother. But he’d known that Caronwyn wouldn’t be the one to greet him. She hardly ever did. In time, the red goddess would be his. But he would have to win her over.



“Why are you looking at me like that?” Fiona asked, blushing. She tucked a lock of now brown hair behind a pointed ear. “Like you’ve never seen me before.”



“Almost feels like I haven’t,” he said softly. “Not truly.”



“Funny you should say that,” she replied.



Only then did he realize that she wasn’t looking up at his face, but somewhere just above him. Large as the difference in height between them was, Fiona had to crane her neck back to look him in the eye anyway. But she had her head tilted back even more than necessary.



Cahill reached up with one hand and patted his head gently. Hair. Hair. More hair.



And then antlers.



A giant rack, such as those found on an elk. Perhaps even larger. Hard as bone, and with deep grooves like the bark of an oak tree.



Once he noticed them, he couldn’t un-notice them. There was a strange sensation against his scalp, like he was pressing his fists against it. His head didn’t feel heavier necessarily, but there was a distinct sense of a weight that shouldn’t be there, bearing down on two points near the center of his head. They couldn’t possibly have been there all along. He’d have noticed them. If not on its own, then when brushing low-hanging branches with the things. They had to be half again as wide as his shoulders, and he’d to reach to touch the uppermost points of them. But with a mere thought, they changed, turning immaterial. His hand passed right through them. Yet he felt a slight chill as he did. One moment, they were solid, the next, spectral. Still there, but in little more than a symbolic sense.



“Fitting that you should be a horned god,” Fiona said, smiling wistfully. Her eyes did their best to focus on his, but they kept drifting up to his antlers. “Thought maybe you’d self-identify as a centaur. Mom certainly likes you that way. But this, this is good.”



Their mother liked him as a centaur? Maybe he should make that his fey form.



But no. His sister was right. This fit.



Cahill knew a little something of the myth of the horned god, which was a figure that played a significant role in the belief systems of neopaganism. But he’d never paid much mind to that. The neopagans he knew, of which the folk music scene boasted quite a number, professed a deep faith in the things he’d always struggled to disbelieve in. But their beliefs, however reverently espoused, seemed almost mocking. Like they were making it all up as they went along. They seemed just as interested in upsetting Christians as anything else.



The horned god had ancient origins, being associated both with Pan and various Catholic depictions of Satan. But in his modern incarnation, he was seen as the male counterpart to the Triple Goddess. He personified nature and sexuality, wilderness and survival. He was perpetually on the hunt, and only sometimes for food. Just like Cahill.



Had Faerie imposed the choice on him? Or had he made it subconsciously?



It didn’t matter. It was who he was, either way.



Distracted by the thought of what he’d become, Cahill almost hadn’t noticed the change in his sister’s Libido. The energy deep within her pulsed more rapidly and insistently now. No longer was it mere contentment or affection that animated her.



Her hand drifted down over his broad chest and hard abs, her fingers trailing through tufts of hair that were a bit thicker than he remembered, to settle on the front of his pants. “You really have grown,” she said, gripping a cock that had never been small through his leather breaches. “Are you going to rip me apart?”



The way she said it, no one would guess that she was describing a violent and painful act. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing rapid, and her considerable chest rising and falling. Full lips turned deep red, and spots of color made their way into her normally alabaster cheeks. Cahill had never seen Fiona so turned on. He wondered if even Seamus had.



Some part of him, a residual memory of the Cahill who believed himself mortal, thought that this was strange. That upon seeing her wayward brother return home at last, his sister should have been eager to inform the rest of the family. Or to hear what had finally gotten through to him. Yet the tree nymph had no interest in hearing his tale or sharing the good news with anyone else. All she wanted was to get him inside her.



Yet another part of him, one that had lain dormant for far too long, knew that Fiona’s behavior was precisely what was to be expected of her. The fey were deeply physical. It was only through pleasuring one another that they gained access to the energy they needed to truly be themselves. One could almost say that without sex, they’d lose their glamour. Cease to be fey. That wasn’t quite right, though, because it made it sound deliberate and calculated. It wasn’t like that. When the urge struck them, they were all but powerless to resist it. Yes, those urges led them to engage in acts that served a purpose. But they were still little more than slaves to their bodies and their needs.



Mortals sometimes spoke as if the same was true for them, but they would never know what it meant to need sex the way he and his kind did.



Liadan had helped him remember that, but Cahill had always known that he craved sex the way no mere mortal ever would. He’d tried to tell himself otherwise. Denied what his girlfriends had all intimated. But deep down, he knew. The why of it had been a mystery, but the phenomenon itself had not been.



Suddenly, vines burst forth from the ground and swung down from the trees, encircling his wrists and ankles. Cahill was lifted off the ground, his limbs spread wide. Beneath him, a stone altar rose up from the dirt to meet his back and support his weight.



He could resist, if he so desired. His sister was strong, and far more practiced than he was, but he himself was not weak. The vines would rip easily enough, and the stone would crack with a single blow, should he put some glamour behind the effort. But Fiona meant him no harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was simply using him to live out a fantasy.



And he was happy to oblige.



As the tree nymph climbed up onto the altar, her green and white dress poured off her like water, melting away and leaving no trace of its existence behind. His sister’s unreal body seemed to glow in the faint light of dawn, or dusk, or whatever time it perpetually was here. Her inhuman curves and astonishingly pale skin captivated him. He dared not blink, lest he miss out on the pleasure of beholding her otherworldly beauty for so much as a fraction of an instant.



The Fiona he knew enjoyed sex. All the fey women did. But she never let it turn into a contest of dominance. His sister neither liked to be in control nor to be controlled. For her, sex was a mutual act of giving. A delicate dance whose beauty would be marred if either partner fell out of sync with the other. And that had always been one of the things he admired about her. Though Cahill never failed to have fun with Oona, who couldn’t have been less like his sister in that respect, his own views were far closer to Fiona’s.



But just then, an entirely woman was busy ripping his pants to shreds. His sister was staring down at him like he was a wounded animal. A meal to be consumed. And though that probably should have unsettled him, he liked seeing that look in her eyes.



“Me first,” a voice said.



It was a feminine voice, less deep and husky than his sister’s. But not as high in pitch as Oona’s. A magical voice. The voice of his mother, Caronwyn.



Fiona whimpered in protest. Yet even sulking like a child, the dryad was intensely desirable. It was hard for Cahill to let her retreat without protesting himself. The green-brown locks spilling about her heart-shaped face framed her beauty perfectly. The tips of her ears poked gently through those unnaturally colored sheets. Her lips pouted and her heavily-shadowed lids batted up and down, dragging thick lashes through the air as they pleaded with him to tell their mother to be patient. Cahill had never noticed just how pretty his sister was. He’d always thought her pleasant to look upon, but not quite as beautiful as Oona or as blindingly gorgeous as their mother. The latter might have been true, but the former was not. His sister was a true wonder to behold, and not just because of her incredible body. He wanted her to have all to herself, to do with as she pleased.



“Move away, child,” their mother said.



No, he didn’t.



Seeing his sister through waking eyes gave him a new appreciation of her beauty. If forced to choose between her and Oona, or Liadan or any of the other Dreamsmyth women, he’d have had no difficulty picking his sister. Try as he might to deny it, he envied Seamus, and always would. But no one could ever come between him and his mother. No one.



Just then, his red goddess stepped into view. And the moment she did, Cahill’s lungs forgot to draw air. He would always have that reaction when first laying eyes on her. Each and every day, for the rest of his life, his heart would stop beating upon his mother’s arrival.



His mother was so gorgeous that to speak of another woman’s beauty was to cheapen the word. No woman had fairer skin, nor such stunning eyes and luscious lips. Though she had to be a few decades older than Fiona, there was no sign of it in her face. Not a hint of crow’s feet or laugh lines, not the least sign that the fat in her cheeks had begun to melt away. She could have been of an age with her daughter, perhaps even younger. Her big, brown eyes were as breathtaking as any Cahill had ever seen. She had the thickest lips, colored deep red. So big and so soft, they simply begged to be kissed. The hair falling to her slender shoulders was every bit as beautiful as everything else about her. Against her glowing white skin, those dark red locks seemed even darker than they were, yet more colorful as well.



To hear Liadan tell it, no living woman was more beautiful than Queen Titania. Having seen an incredibly lifelike rendering of the woman, Cahill could see why any daughter of Titania’s might think so. And indeed, many men, whether born of the queen’s womb or not, would be inclined to agree. But not Cahill. Not so long as Caronwyn drew breath.



His mother wore a heavy brown robe that almost masked her figure. But even that heavy garment couldn’t hide the size of her breasts. It wasn’t until she slipped out of it though that Cahill was reminded of how impossibly narrow his mother’s waist was. How broad her fertile hips were. His eyes drank in her incredible body, from her huge tits and perfect nipples to her flat stomach, protruding hips, and shapely legs. Then his eyes traveled back up said wonders to her womanhood. The neatly trimmed bush of red-brown hair sitting atop her mons made his dick twitch. As did her prominent, curly labia.



Some men liked their women shaved bald. Those same men often preferred slender little labia that curled inward, leaving the woman’s pussy looking like a clamshell or a pistachio. Cahill couldn’t listen to men express such a preference without thinking that they secretly feared that which they claimed to love. Himself, he liked to see a nice dark tuft of pubic hair, and a full set of labia. His mother’s lower pair of lips could not have been any more perfect than the ones defining her face.

It wasn’t just nice to look at a woman and see a woman. That was part of it, yes. But not all. Cahill had been with women whose slits were almost invisible, whose labia were tight and modest. Teagan, for example, had the slightest little vulva, and she was as bald as the child she almost seemed to be. Going down on girls like her was a challenge. There was just so little to work with. His mother’s prominent sex, on the other hand, rewarded his attentions amply. And nothing could satisfy Cahill more than satisfying his mother.



As blatantly as he’d been staring between her legs, he noticed his mother doing the same.



Cahill looked down the length of his body. His muscles had grown larger, his hair thicker. He looked wilder. Less like a man and a little more like a beast. The swollen member standing straight up like a ship’s mast seemed equally foreign. It dwarfed his usual endowment, which had never been modest. It was a few inches longer than usual, and much thicker. A thicker tangle of black hair curled around the base, though the shaft was smooth, with only a few prominent veins. The helmet was thick and shiny. His penis looked like a cross between a feminist’s nightmare and a horny woman’s filthiest dream come true.



“There some rite of initiation the druidess must perform?” Cahill asked nervously.



His mother shook her head.



“A privilege owed to the matriarch? Like jus primae noctis?”



Again, Caronwyn indicated otherwise.



So. She did not have to have him first. She was acting as a woman, with a woman’s needs, not as the eldest woman of the clan or the one charged with carrying out rituals.



His mother stopped at the end of the stone altar. Dark eyes studied him. He noticed that unlike her sister’s chestnut orbs, Caronwyn’s irises were nearly black. That almost made him uncomfortable, but it was so striking that he couldn’t look away. Those chips of onyx held him in place as surely as the vines Fiona had conjured up did.



Most every woman he met made a lasting impression on him. For the few fleeting moments that they were together, he would convince himself that his partner was unlike any other woman, if only in some small way. Among the fey, that rarely took much convincing. Most every woman had at least one feature that set her apart from other women.



But it wasn’t like that with his mother. Everything about Caronwyn was perfect in Cahill’s eyes. She could not have been more beautiful, nor could her body have been any more desirable. From her exquisite complexion and divine facial features to her glorious breasts, slender waist, and dangerously curvaceous lower body, she was utterly without flaw. The purest expression of feminine sexuality.



Ever so slowly, she lowered herself, until her mouth hovered an inch or so above the swollen head of his cock. She licked those luscious lips of hers, leaving them even shinier than before. A shudder ran down Cahill’s spine.



For moment, he wondered why her lipstick never smeared. But then he realized how absurd that was. She didn’t wear lipstick, nor makeup of any kind. None of they fey did. Sure, no mortal woman boasted lips that color, nor skin that fair and flawless. And it certainly looked like his mother wore thick eyeliner and heavy eyeshadow. As did all the women of the fey. But no mere cosmetics ever disgraced their skin. If their beauty was enhanced, it was not by pigments and powders, oils and waxes.



“You’ve said your goodbyes?” his mother asked.



The warmth of her breath against his poor, neglected cock made him twitch. Pre-cum oozed out his slit. He needed her so badly. Needed those plump lips wrapped around his manhood. That warm, nimble tongue dancing along his shaft, teasing his glans and foreskin.



He nodded.



“She knows she’ll never see you again?” his mother asked, referring of course to the woman he’d long thought to be his mother.



“Yes,” Cahill said.



They’d made love one last time. He hadn’t even pictured Caronwyn while they did, thought he’d been tempted to. Mary Donovan was not a beautiful woman, but she’d given him so much, and he’d brought her little but suffering in return. He’d pushed her away, punished her for committing no greater crime than telling him the truth. After all of that, she deserved to be with him one last time, and for him to be with her.



Deserved more than that, in fact. And so he’d done his best to give still more.



Besides his body, and his house and all his worldly possessions, Cahill left the woman who’d raised him with a little glamour. If she so chose, Mary would remember him and their last time together every night in her sleep. Remember in such vivid detail that her body would respond as though it were happening all over again, too.



She wouldn’t dream of him if she didn’t want to, though. If ever Mary thought it best to move on with her life, she’d be free to do so. Only for as long as she wished to keep him in her heart would the glamour last.



Even that was less than he wished he could give her. Were it up to Cahill, he’d promise to go back and visit her, in person, once a twice a year. For her birthday or Christmas or something. Maybe even bring her to Faerie with him, if that was what she wanted. But he could not promise her those things. So he’d given her what he could. And the tears of joy that had streamed down her cheeks told him that it had been enough. That he’d left behind a woman who was happier than she’d ever again hoped to be after that fateful car crash.



Apparently, his mother, his true mother, could sense what he’d done. Perhaps some trace of the glamour was left on him. Or maybe Caronwyn just knew him that well, though she’d been absent most of his life. A faint smile spread across her lips and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod of approval.



Then she rewarded him for being such a good son.



His own tears of joy soon streamed down his face.



There were a lot of women out there who knew how to give good head. The fey boasted more than their fair share of them. But none of them could compare to his mother. Not Oona, who could tease a man within an inch of his life. Not Fiona, who thought that anyone who didn’t take the time to seduce their lover properly had no right to expect any satisfaction of their own. Not Liadan, who knew both how to tease and to please, to overwhelm a man and to make him savor every little moment. No one.



Cahill lost track of the number of times he came in his mother’s mouth. One thing he would remember, when she finished, was that she hadn’t even reached the end of his foreskin before he’d unleashed his first load. She’d kept the very tip of him inside her mouth and swallowed every last drop before licking him clean and picking right up where she’d left off.



Big as he’d become, she couldn’t take him all the way inside. But that was just fine by Cahill. The magic she worked on his sensitive head was more than enough to satisfy him.



He tried to give her feedback. To tell her how amazing she was, and how much he was enjoying her affections. But he couldn’t. It was hard enough just trying to breathe. His ass cheeks were clenched tight almost the entire time. His abs would pull tight, raising his upper body up off the stone slab enough for him to peer down his chest at the wonders unfolding below, then they’d give out and he’d fall back flat on the stone with a sight. Most of the time, he just lay there, hips twitching and head flopping about like a dying fish.



The only thing that could have made the experience more enjoyable would have been if his hands were free to run through his mother’s hair. Fuck, but Cahill loved that hair. It was so luxurious, so thick and soft, silky and strong, dark yet colorful. Otherwise, Caronwyn shattered his understanding of pleasure, forever redefined ecstasy in his mind.



It hit him afterwards, when his mother finally allowed him to recover, that he’d never truly had sex with the women of his family before. They’d merely pantomimed the act of pleasing each other. That alone had been enough to ruin every relationship he’d ever had, but it was nothing like what awaited him now that he’d come home.



The realization that he’d spent fifteen years denying himself the pleasures that now awaited him, all because he refused to wake up, almost made him cry. The only consolation was that the fey were immortal. That there was no limit on how much time he could spend with the unnaturally beautiful women of his family now.



“Okay there buddy?” Fiona asked, taking his big toe between her fingers and wiggling it. “Haven’t gone and passed out on us, have you?”



“No,” he gasped. “No,” he repeated, a bit more steadily. “Just…wow. That was incredible, Mom. Absolutely unbelievable.”



“Hmm. Good thing I held back,” Caronwyn said. “Or maybe we would have lost him.”



Cahill laughed, as did his sister. But he wasn’t at all sure their mother was joking.



“Well, I don’t know if i can follow that act,” Fiona said, grabbing his tree trunk in her little hands. “But I’m going to enjoy trying.”



Indeed, she couldn’t match the red goddess.



But if Cahill’s mind hadn’t just been blown away by Clan Walker’s matriarch, it would have been by it’s eldest daughter. It didn’t take thirty seconds for Fiona to find out that their mother hadn’t left him completely dry after all. And it didn’t take Cahill thirty seconds to realize just how true it was that he’d never known anything in his dreams but a shadow of the pleasure his family had to offer him.



Fiona moved more slowly than his mother. The smiles she gave him from time to time conveyed true affection. She was genuinely enjoying herself, even if it looked like she was wearing herself out trying to accommodate his oversized cock. But the last thing Cahill would have said of his sister’s approach was that it was casual. She seduced him carefully and methodically, her tongue dancing to a rhythm he couldn’t quite decipher. Her lips weren’t as soft and pillowy as their mother’s, but they were more than a little wonderful. And she knew what he wanted. Every time he’d start to think that she was drawing things out too much, she’d step things up and make him squeak with delight. Caronwyn was as good as it got when it came to sucking dick. But his sister was no beginner.



Finally, after the tree nymph swallowed the last bit of cum his poor little testicles could possibly produce, the women let him up. The vines slipped away and withdrew into the darkness above and the ground below.



His gorgeous mother and his pretty sister stood hip to hip, the younger woman’s arm wrapped around the older one’s waist, while the mother’s arm was encircled the daughter’s shoulder. The sight of them standing there naked as the day they were born, smiling at him with a mix of affection and amusement, warmed Cahill’s heart.



The voluptuous nature goddess seemed a smaller, in spite of her generous curves, when standing beside the shapely druidess. Their mother stood a few inches taller than Fiona, and had breasts that made the younger woman’s round beauties seem almost modest. Her hips almost convinced him that Fiona’s were average-sized, though they certainly weren’t. Despite all that, though, Caronwyn was thinner in all the right places too, especially the waist. By a fair margin, for that matter.



Still, though Fiona inferior to the red goddess in every way, Cahill remained awed by her. She had all their mother’s best features, even if they manifested themselves less gloriously in the younger woman. His sister had proportions that biology forbade any mortal women from possessing, beautiful skin, and a smile that made his stomach flutter. Her dark brown pubes were trimmed neatly, but left no doubt that she was a grown woman. Her pussy lips were not quite as puffy and prominent as their mother’s, but neither did she have a modest little slit like their cousin. The two women had similar facial features. Round, high cheekbones, cute little noses, pointy ears, and delicate chins. Their eyebrows were thick and dark, making their skin seem even fairer. Their lashes were long, their lips full, their eyes big and wide, and their hair dark. All of that similarly reinforced their breathtaking complexions. True, one woman had red-brown hair and brows, the other brown-but-maybe-green. And Caronwyn’s eyes were much darker than Fiona’s, though the latter had irises no man could call light, even if they were green. They reminded him less of emeralds than of olives. Or, more appropriately, the deep forest she called her home. But there was a strong resemblance between the two, all the more noticeable now that they stood side by side.



“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Cahill said.



The two women burst out laughing.



“At least you came to your senses in the end,” Fiona said, climbing up onto the altar beside him. “And before Brittany too.”



“Yeah,” he said.



His sister nuzzled his neck and worked his earlobe into her warm mouth. Meanwhile, her hands roamed over his body. It took only an moment for him to know that he wasn’t done after all. However much was demanded of him, he would give. And then give some more.



Fortunately, though, Caronwyn seemed to sense that he could use a little more time to recover. She stared into her daughter’s eyes, ignoring her son completely. And Cahill was only too happy to shimmy out of the way so that the druidess could lay Fiona flat on her back and bury her head between the tree nymph’s thighs.



He sat on the edge of the altar and watched in fascination as his mother demonstrated that she was no less talented at pleasuring women than she was men. His sister looked almost exactly as he imagined he must have when the red goddess had graced him with her favor. She rolled her head from side to side, sighing and moaning, while her hips jerked sharply upwards, settled back down, then jerked back up again. The only difference was that Fiona’s hands were free to run through that glorious red hair, and she took full advantage. When she wasn’t playing with her stiff brown nipples, that was.



Cahill solved his sister’s dilemma for her. He knelt by her side and bent down, taking one full breast in his mouth while cupping the other in his hand. He played with her sensitive nipples, working as slowly and sensually as she herself would. Fiona started moaning louder, and with one hand on the back of each head, she silently implored her brother and her mother not to stop. And they didn’t. Not until Fiona burst.



Even then, they only paused long enough to switch positions.



Cahill didn’t take his time quite the way he would have if the two of them were alone. Had they been, he’d have worked his way from her ears to her toes and back again, pausing along the way to make love to her breasts and her hips, her navel and her ribcage, and many other places besides. But even the abbreviated version escalated slowly. He worked around his sister’s vulva, munching on her labia with his lips before letting her feel his tongue. He concentrated on her less sensitive parts for a long while before moving inward. Every part of her womanhood, from perineum to clitoral hood, got plenty of attention.



In time, though, his sister lost patience. She pushed her spongy G-spot out of her vagina, the way only very practiced women can. And so Cahill began to incorporate her G-spot into his rotation. Increasingly, his attentions focused exclusively there and on her clitoris. Fiona began to moan and writhe more and more rapidly.



When the dryad started cumming again, the trees sighed along with her. Their foliage grew thicker and more verdant as the world around them soaked up some of the energy bleeding out of his sister’s Libido.



She was ordinarily so composed, so reserved, that it took Cahill by surprise to see her thrash her way through an orgasm. Even at her most violent, she didn’t go as crazy as Oona always did, but it was still a sight to see.



He was about to offer to go down on her again. She’d brought him to climax multiple times. It would only be fair to repay the favor fully. But he could see the impatience in his mother’s eyes, and disappointing his red goddess was not something he knew how to do.



Fiona slipped off the altar and onto unsteady feet.



“That was nice, Kay,” she told him. “I’m so happy you’ve finally come home.”



“I’m happy to finally be here,” he said, bending down to kiss the top of her head.



His sister wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Come see me sometime soon, hmm?” she said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”



Cahill ran his fingers lightly through her green hair. “Don’t doubt you will,” he said.



She gave him a blank look, as if unsure whether he was mocking her. Cahill sensed something dark and green inside her, directed simultaneously towards him and their mother. He felt a stab of pain at that. Yes, Caronwyn was the center of his universe. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care for his sister.



“Seamus is a lucky guy,” Cahill said, as if to remind her that she was the center of someone’s universe too. Just not his.



His sister pulled back, stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then said, “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”



From the altar came a snicker of amusement.



“Just that our brother couldn’t ask for a better-”



“Do you think he owns me?” Fiona snapped. “That he’s landed a great catch?”



“Nooo,” Cahill said tentatively.



“He’s lucky I choose to lie with him as often as I do,” she said. “But I can take any lover I want, any time I want. Who knows, maybe I’ll get tired of him. Or him of me.” A little heat went out of her voice. “It’s different with our kind, Kay. You know that.”



He knew that everyone kept saying so. And that mortals didn’t look so favorably on incest. But he wasn’t at all sure that he believed what his sister would have him believe.



She and Seamus were all but inseparable, and Duncan rarely graced any other woman’s bed save Macha’s. If Reilly or Finnegan ever had their way, they’d have the same arrangement with Oona. Gallech might too, save that he’d undoubtedly chase after Caronwyn every now and then just to frustrate Cahill. The fey were very open sexually, but every last one of them seemed to have a favorite lover. Fiona and Seamus were not just lovers. They were in love. Anyone with eyes could see that. It didn’t matter that no one ever said as much aloud. They never explicitly denied it either. Because they couldn’t.



“Go easy on the boy, Fiona,” their mother said as she slipped up behind her indignant daughter. “He’s still learning.”



Fiona heaved a sigh. “Someone better take over teaching him, then,” she said. “He doesn’t listen to me.”



Caronwyn kissed the smaller woman’s shoulder, then the back of her head. Slender hands played with silky brown hair. “I’ll do my best.”



A soft, indistinct sound escaped Fiona’s throat. “You’re in good hands, at least,” she said to Cahill breathlessly.



Their mother nibbled lightly at Fiona’s ear and Cahill thought she might have slid a hand between the girl’s round butt cheeks. Might have reminded her daughter just how good those hands were. “I’ll learn him up good,” Caronwyn said. “He’ll be the pride of Clan Walker before you know it.”



“So I’m not now?” Cahill said with a smirk.



Both women smiled at him.



“Say goodbye to your sister,” his red goddess said with a bemused grin. “You and I have some catching up to do.”



So Cahill did. And the kiss he and Fiona shared brought them both to climax.



#



“Were you ever in love?” Cahill asked his mother between sessions.



He’d lost all track of time. That was easy enough to do in Faerie, he’d always thought, even before he’d set foot in the Emerald Court proper. Which he hadn’t before. Not truly. His mother had explained that much to him during a previous break in the action. But he still got the sense that his mother might have had something to do with it. Especially since they’d been going at it for hours and not once had anyone else come looking for them. Not even Gallech, who seemed to have a foolproof sensor that told him when it was time to go interrupt Cahill’s attempts to seduce their mother.

“Oh, come on, baby,” his mother cooed. Her soft ass wiggled against his crotch, inviting him to set the question aside and worry about more important things. “You don’t want to know the answer to that, do you? Truly?”



Cahill hesitated. They’d passed the phase where neither of them could so much as get a few words out, so desperate were they to get back to making love. That didn’t mean their desire for another was fading. Not much, at least. But his mother had been willing enough to answer his other questions. To explain to him that his nightly journeys hadn’t been to Faerie but a place in between that she’d constructed precisely for the purpose of seducing him away from the Dreaming. That though the fey were forbidden from reentering that world, they weren’t strictly bound to Faerie. That they’d found a way to stretch that rule without breaking it, as they did all rules.



She’d also been happy enough to tell him why it was important that they take on new forms when they arrived in Faerie. That mortals sometimes found their way here, and if the creatures they encountered in Faerie didn’t match their expectations, the childlike wonder they exhibited at first would give way to clear, even critical, thinking. And that would send them on their way before the fey had a chance to have a little fun with them. He was free to dismiss his antlers and shed some of his fur, to allow his body return to its ordinary size and shape, any time he pleased, but it was best not to do so too often, just in case.



It wasn’t an overwhelming need to get back to it that led her to dodge his question then.



Still, he did not relent.



“Please,” he said. His lips brushed her shoulder lightly. “I don’t care what the answer is.” Another kiss, lingering this time. “I just want to know.”



His mother sighed.



“When you were new to this world,” he said, steering the conversation away from the here and now. Perhaps she was afraid to answer because she feared that he was asking, in a roundabout way, how she felt about him. Perhaps he was, but he’d have been glad just to know that she was capable of the emotion. That he wasn’t the only one struggling with the injunction. “Did you have trouble adjusting to the ways of our kind?”



Caronwyn rolled over, facing him. She pressed a soft palm to his face. The look on her face would have been suitable for telling him not to be too bummed out about getting dumped, that he’d meet the right girl one day. “Of course I did, honey. We all do.”



“Yeah?”



She nodded.



“So,” he said. “Who was it? Your father?”



His mother shook her head.



Of course it wasn’t. Most fey never met their fathers. Or if they did, they found that their fathers did not think of them as family. Rare indeed was the daughter who tempted a man of the fey away from his own clan. If ever there was a woman beautiful enough, desirable enough, kind and caring and charming enough, it was Caronwyn. But even so, it didn’t shock Cahill to hear that his mother hadn’t fallen in love with her father.



“My older brother,” she said. “Richard. We all called him Dick or Dickie.”



That he had an uncle came as news to Cahill. “What happened?”



He had to have felt the same. What man could possibly resist her? If the tale lacked a happy ending, as it evidently did, that couldn’t possibly be the explanation.



“He married a woman from another court and moved away.”



“Do you ever see him anymore?” Cahill asked, his heart racing.



What if this Uncle Dick was still around? Would he even want to meet him? Could he handle that, knowing that his mother felt for the man what Cahill wished she’d feel for him? The temptation to compare himself to his uncle, to envy him, would be unbearable. But at the same time, part of him relished the idea of meeting a man worthy of his mother’s love, if only so that he could better learn what it took to earn that.



“Nooo,” she said, voice trailing off. “He…he’s….”



“Dead?” Cahill asked, sparing her the need to say it.



Caronwyn nodded. “Died in another land. Claimed by a feud over some foreign throne.” She choked up a bit before continuing. “He left some children behind. Can you believe that? I’ve several nieces I’ve never met. They’ve got children of their own by now, no doubt.”



How long ago could this have been that she was sure of that?



“I can’t say I blame him,” his mother added. “You should have seen her, Kay. Noreen was so beautiful. I almost fell for her myself.”



Though their kind were open to most every form of sexuality, he knew his mother’s tongue was firmly in cheek as she said that last part. She sometimes made love to her daughter or to her sister, especially when she was sharing them with one of the Walker men, but he didn’t think her capable of falling in love with another woman. It was not unheard of for their kind to do so, but it was relatively rare, and Caronwyn had never given him any indication that she was one of the few with that predilection.



“She’d been around for centuries, and it showed. Power rolled off her in waves. Yet she had this strange humility to her. Like she didn’t want anyone to notice how beautiful she was, or how powerful. Just wanted people to like her for who she was. There wasn’t a proud bone in that woman’s body.”



Sounded familiar.



“When he left for Autumn, I thought I might die,” the red goddess said.



Cahill didn’t know what to say. He’d thought that he wouldn’t mind hearing his mother talk that way about another man, but he’d been a fool to believe that. It was good to know that she was capable of falling in love, or had been at one time, but the sadness in her voice felt like a knife in his belly. And not just because he hated seeing his mother unhappy.



“See?” she said with a bitter laugh. “Told ya you didn’t want to know.”



He smoothed beautiful hair away from his mother’s face before planting a kiss on her forehead. The situation called for more of a response than that, but he had no more to offer.



A faint smile spread across Caronwyn’s beautiful lips.



“Do you want to know what he was like?” she asked, jokingly.



“Of course,” Cahill replied.



He felt numb. What came next might be difficult to hear. Very, very difficult. But he couldn’t help himself. He had to know.



“Really?” his mother asked.



The trail of kisses began at her forehead but ended with her soft lips. He heard her breath catch just before he reached his final destination.



Why did it feel so much like it was mutual whenever they were together? Could it really be nothing more than wishful thinking on his part?



“He wasn’t that tall,” his mother said, voice surprisingly calm now. “Shorter than Gallech even,” she added, leaving the “let alone you” that should have come next unsaid. “He had these beautiful gray eyes, a red beard that didn’t match his dark brown hair, and a body like…well, he was shorter than Gallech, but he probably weighed a good ten pounds more, and very precious little of that weight came from fat.”



Cahill tried not to feel too jealous over the way his mother’s Libido had swelled for a moment there as she described his uncle’s appearance. His oldest brother was incredibly well-built. Gallech weighed less than Cahill, but mostly just because he was a good five inches shorter. Though he had the face of a pretty boy, looking even more like a mythical elf than the rest of their kind, Gallech had a body that any man could envy.



Any man except their uncle, apparently.



“Sorry, baby,” his mother said, her Libido settling back down.



“Quite okay,” he forced himself to say. He had asked for it, after all.



He’d told himself that his mother didn’t like her guys too bulky. That Gallech would never appeal to their mother as much as Cahill did because he was built too much like a tank. Though five inches shorter than Cahill, he couldn’t have weighed more than ten pounds less. Put differently, he was four inches shorter than Seamus, yet thirty pounds heavier. And all of that was muscle. Too much muscle.



Or so Cahill wanted to believe.



“Anyway, it’s not like it would have been all that different if he’d never left,” his mother said. She slid a foot up and down his calf, as if to signal that he shouldn’t read too much into any of this. That he should keep in mind that the past was the past, and he was the one in her bed just then for a reason. “He was besotted with our mother.”



“There’s a word you don’t hear every day,” Cahill said.



His mother smiled. “Your grandmother felt the same way about him too. Seeing Dick go was harder on her than me, I think. Harder maybe even than losing the throne and being exiled, though I haven’t had the chance to ask her how that turned out.”



“Say what?”



“Haven’t I told you that Grandma Aeife was queen for a time?”



“No,” he said. “Think I’d remember that.”



“With you, who knows,” his mother said, a playful grin on her face. She kissed his chest by way of apology before continuing. “No one else ever kept Titania off the throne as long as Mom did. But all good things, I suppose.”



“Is she still alive?”



“So far as I know. Haven’t seen her since before you were born though.”



He remembered Liadan telling him that Titania disliked his clan more so than even the other bigger clans. That she’d ordered two of her sons to take Walker women to wife so that the Dreamsmyths could keep an eye on the Walkers. Now he understood why.



Cahill drew a deep breath. It was a lot to take in at once.



“Feeling a little overwhelmed?” his mother asked.



He nodded.



“Let’s finish filling in the family tree some other time then, huh?”



Cahill kissed his mother by way of response. Long and deep.



Next thing he knew, he was lying flat on his back and she was riding him cowgirl. Just the way he liked it. With her on top, he could look her in the eyes while playing with her breasts or suck on her perfect nipples while fondling her ass. And she could set the pace for herself. That was never a bad thing, but he appreciated that aspect all the more when he was with his mother, since he still hadn’t quite figured out what she liked. It was easy to tell with Oona and Fiona, since those two always wanted the same thing. Oona liked it a little rough while Fiona was just the opposite. His mother sometimes seemed to want him to dominate her, while other times seemed to share Fiona’s tastes.



Which wouldn’t have been so bad, except he felt that she expected him to know instinctively which she was in the mood for at any given time. Perhaps if he got better at reading Libidos, someday he’d be able to do so. But until then, he got by on guesswork.



That, and letting her set the pace.



Just now, for example, she was apparently in one of her wild moods. He hadn’t realized it, but his antlers had made a return. And his mother was holding on to them like handles as she rode him furiously. Her hips moved faster than he thought was possible as she impaled herself repeatedly on his monster cock. He was alternately squeezing and slapping her fat ass, biting down gently on her nipples as he did. Not only didn’t she mind, but he suspected that she’d have been okay with him biting and slapping harder still.



“That’s it, that’s it,” she said. “Don’t hold back, baby.”



She never said that she wanted it harder. But there were only so many ways to interpret her telling him not to hold back.



After pumping himself up a bit, and despite some lingering reluctance, he stepped things up. Gave it to her as hard as he dared.



“Oh, fuck, yes,” his mother panted. “Make Mommy your bitch!”



That struck a chord.



And not entirely in a bad way.



Cahill needed his mother to need him as badly as he did her. If that was what she wanted, that was what she’d get.



He grabbed her and rolled her off him. She resisted, but it was just for show, he sensed. The reaction inside her Libido was the very opposite of the one her body offered. Cahill wrestled her down to all fours and climbed into position behind her.



“This what you want?” he asked, giving her ass a hard slap with one hand while the other lined his huge cock up to penetrate her tight pussy. “You like this?”



She mumbled something like a response.



He forced his way inside. Though she was already loosened up, it took some effort. With every inch that disappeared inside her, she let out new and interesting sounds. Hisses followed whimpers, moans gave way to sighs, curses became compliments. Cahill pressed down on the back of her head, pushing her face into the pillow, effectively silencing her. That only turned her on more.



It had a similar effect on him.



All in all, Cahill preferred sex soft and sensual. But nothing turned him on more than seeing his mother enjoy herself. And she liked this. A lot. Not necessarily more than she liked being seduced painstakingly, he didn’t think. If nothing else, though, she was a bigger believer in variety being the spice of life than either Oona or Fiona were.



“Give me that pussy,” Cahill grunted as he slammed into his mother over and over again, fucking her harder than he’d ever dare fuck her daughter. “I’ve got to have it.”



“Mmm, Mommy’s little boy takes what he wants,” Caronwyn whimpered. Her insides spasmed around him as she drew ever closer to orgasm. “Doesn’t he?”



“That’s fucking right,” he said, pumping faster and faster without compromising the depth or force of his strokes in the least.



He could feel the energy draining from his Libido, but he dare not let up. She wanted everything he had, and she was going to get it.



The sight of his mother’s great white ass rippling as her hips rushed back to meet his every thrust, ensuring that they’d meet with even greater impact, hypnotized him. As did the way her slender waist flared out into broad hips and the look of her dark hair plastered to her back. Nothing could be sexier than the sight of his mother surrendering completely to the pleasures of the flesh. And she was doing just that now. She was like a woman possessed. Nothing would stop her from reaching her orgasm. Nothing.



All of a sudden, he felt a rush of ecstasy. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely supernatural or just that his mother had amplified his penis’ sensitivity, but one way or another, Cahill felt more pleasure in that instant than ever before. It was crippling, yet he wouldn’t have asked her to stop even if he could gather enough breath to do so.



Mother and son reached orgasm together.



As her womb gripped him tight, milking him slowly and surely with every little spasm, his balls pumped hot cum inside her. More and more, until it dribbled out of her and down his sac. Still, he kept right on ejaculating.



When at last Caronwyn decided that she’d drained him well enough, she collapsed flat on her stomach. Cahill gasped as he slipped out of her warm hole and plopped down beside her on the bed, lungs pumping like bellows.



Apparently his antlers had gone spectral again.



“How…was that?” she asked, fighting for air herself.



He gave her ass a firm smack. That was the only reply he had energy enough to provide.



His mother smiled.



The aftereffects lingered for a long time. Cahill felt an intense euphoria. He was weightless and light-headed, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could his mother, who he assumed was feeling every bit as good as he was. They held each other’s hands and stared into each other’s eyes, giggling like children.



It wasn’t just him.



It couldn’t be.



He didn’t know why she wanted him to believe that she wasn’t as interested in him as Oona was, but it simply couldn’t be true. He refused to countenance the idea any further.



Yet he also refused to ask her to confirm it. Because part of him still feared the truth. Maybe she didn’t care for Gallech more than him, despite his thicker muscles. Maybe he actually was her favorite son. But that didn’t necessarily mean that she was in love.



And if she wasn’t, he couldn’t bear to hear it.



Their breathing slowly returned to normal, and goofy smiles gave way to clumsy kisses. Clumsy kisses gave way to locked lips and fumbling hands. When his mother reached between his legs and started to guide him back inside her, though, he pulled away.



“Something wrong, baby?” she asked.



“Not at all,” he said. “Quite the opposite.”



The druidess smiled at him as he set about performing a sacred ritual of his own devising. Though she wanted his dick, he wanted her everything. So Cahill took his sweet time making love to all of her. He used his powers to sensitize moderately erogenous parts of her body, such as her hips and feet and inside her wrists. His mother experienced one climax after another, long before he made his way between her legs.



Getting her off by sucking on her wrists had felt strange. In the back of his mind, he’d been picturing countless scenes from bad vampire movies. But he got a huge rush out of knowing that his mother was going to climax, and seeing her eventually do so, while he pressed his mouth to that part of her.



The same went for her feet, and then some. Knowing that most people found feet unpleasant gave him an extra thrill. There was something kinky, depraved even, about the way he licked her rounded ankles, sucked her toes, and kissed the smooth parts of the bottoms of her feet the same as he did her tough callouses. The symbolism of it all, even with her flat on her back rather than him groveling before her, drove him crazy.



Most of all, he’d derived great pleasure from giving her an orgasm by playing with her hips. Those great symbols of her fertility demanded awe and respect. Making love to them excited him almost as much as doing the same for her breasts did.



When he arrived at the source of life, the tunnel through which he’d entered the world, Cahill slowed things down even further. He tortured his mother sweetly, teasing her with his mouth and fingers. His nose enjoyed her smell, his tongue her taste, and his eyes her beauty. Though he was pleasuring her, Cahill intended to enjoy every second of it, even if that meant making her suffer. Even if she begged and pleaded.



Which she did.



A lot.



But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Cahill could not get enough of his mother’s beautiful pussy, and he refused to rush things.



When she burst into climax earlier than he’d anticipated, he just pretended not to notice and kept right on going. His mother squirmed wildly, trying to escape the onslaught. But he held her in place, knowing that she would be glad that he did.



His tongue flicked back and forth against her large clitoris and his fingers applied steady pulsating pressure against her G-spot, testing the limits of her senses. Just as he thought he might push things too far, he eased up. His fingers left the spongy area above her opening and swept her womb gently. His tongue moved slowly, lightly, up and down her labia, avoiding the deep red love button. When he felt her Libido settle down a little, he dialed things back up to ten, even though her body was still sending signals that it was overstimulated.



“Oh, oh, fuck, Kay,” his mother grunted. Soon enough, though, she lost the ability to form coherent words. Indistinct sounds escaped her throat. “Mmmph, ungh, mmm,” she whimpered and moaned as he ran his tongue in circles around her clit.



When at last he allowed his mother the release she craved, she opened up as she had never before. He was almost wiped away by the tidal wave of energy she unleashed.



#



To Cahill, it seemed that no more than a few hours had gone by since he’d first arrived. But every hour in Faerie was nearly a full day in the Dreaming, so it perhaps shouldn’t have surprised him to learn that his younger sister had visited the Shadow Faerie four times while his mother threw him a private welcoming party.



Shortly after his mother had finally dropped the barrier that separated them from the rest of Faerie, Oona had come to her older sister with an idea to address the problem. To inform Caronwyn that the recent trend of Brittany slipping further and further away from them, after having seemed not long ago to be on the verge of waking up, continued unabated.

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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



Naturally, Seamus was less enthused.



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



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



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



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



Their sister looked amazing.



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



He could only be the March hare.



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



Cahill responded with a noncommittal shrug.



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



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



Seamus sighed. “It’s okay. I get it,” he said.



Cahill looked a question at him.



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



“Something like that,” Cahill said.



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



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



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



“Fiona thinks I won’t like Brittany,” Cahill said. “That I’ll think she’s too skinny.”



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



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



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



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



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



#



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

Cahill still felt bad about sizing her up like that. He hadn’t even met the girl yet. But the moment he laid eyes on her, part of him felt just as bad for having judged Seamus for the way he’d spoken about their youngest sister.



Most of all, he felt bad that he couldn’t honestly say that Fiona was more attractive.



Both of his sisters were amazing, in different ways. Brittany was prettier, but Fiona had a nicer body. He wanted to say that he was more attracted to the nature goddess who’d been a regular part of his life for fifteen years, but he couldn’t do so without lying. Which was not to say he found Fiona any less attractive than Brittany, just that he couldn’t bring himself to say that either one of them was significantly better-looking than the other.



Some part of him insisted that there was no betrayal there. That no matter how much Fiona had protested against the idea, she basically belonged to Seamus. Just as he would one day belong to the red goddess who put both her daughters to shame. So what if he didn’t grant her any special status relative to his other sister? He didn’t owe her that.



Try as he might to convince himself of that, though, himself wasn’t listening. No more so than to the admonitions he leveled at himself for reducing her to a piece of meat.



So, feeling guilty and pervy and disloyal, yet not at all convinced that he ought to feel any of those things, an immaterial Cahill trailed after his sister. She skipped deeper and deeper into the reflection of Faerie their mother had constructed, and he flitted behind. As did the rest of the Clan, though neither Cahill nor Brittany could see any of them.



The eyes he didn’t really have in this form wandered up and down her tight, young body, but they never wandered far from her backside for long. He appreciated the way her shiny black platform pumps, opaque white knee-high stockings, lacy white apron, and matching choker brought everything together. The way the shiny black bow in hair he suspected wasn’t naturally blonde helped to transform her into the iconic character. But none of that could hold Cahill’s attention the way his sister’s ripe ass did. Every single time he glimpsed a sharp line of cleavage forming between a round cheek and a slender thigh, he felt a rush of excitement. Girls her size and shape were supposed to have small, flat asses. Asses that were incapable of forming those beautiful lines at the bottoms of their bottoms.



“Hel-lo?” Brittany called. She had a very high-pitched voice, even more so than Oona’s. Almost squeaky. To his surprise, Cahill found that cute as hell. “Anyone here? Fi? Shay?”



Shay?



Had his sister had come up with that nickname for Seamus as a way of getting back at him for calling her Brit? If so, well, that was pretty damn awesome. Cahill thought he just might like this girl. Especially if that wasn’t her natural hair color.



Not that he should have cared if it was. If Macha and Teagan did less for him than Caronwyn, Oona, and Fiona, their hair color was only a very small part of the reason.



And, and, he ought to love his younger sister, as a sister, regardless of her appearance!



Damn. Cahill hadn’t been in Faerie but a few hours, and already he was finding his entire way of thinking corrupted. All he could think about were pretty things and fantasies, desire and pleasure and instant gratification. All his life, he’d longed for a true family. For a sense of belonging. He could only assume that the same went for the little girl whose ass he was salivating over. They could provide those things for one another. Them, and the rest of Clan Walker. If they could but rise above their fey natures.



“Oona? Finnie?” Brittany continued, coming to a stop as she approached a fork in the path. “Wait, let me guess,” she said. She pressed one hand to her forehead as she scanned the woods, “I’m supposed to follow the White Rabbit, is that it?”



“Not quite,” Oona said. A moment after she answered her niece’s question, her head appeared, hovering in the center of the path on the left. But only her head. “First you have to find them,” she finished. As the words rang out, her headless body appeared in the right path. She crossed her arms, pointing left with her right hand and right with her left. “One of these paths will take you to them. Probably.”



“Them?” Brittany asked, a smirk spreading across her lips. She planted a hand on one narrow hip. “Meaning I’m looking for, what, two White Rabbits?”



The tone of amusement in his sister’s voice surprised Cahill as much as her prescience. Were he in her shoes, he’d have been confused by the Cheshire Cat’s less than helpful replies. Perhaps even frustrated. Not Brittany, though. And he liked that.



“Okay. I dig,” Brittany said. “So I should take the shortcut?”



Their aunt smiled. “Only if you wish to spoil all the fun.”



“Which way would you go then?”



“The right way.”



Brittany started down the path on the right.



“Oh, no, dear. No, no, no. You mustn’t go that way,” Oona said, even as her body moved aside. “You’ll get terribly lost if you go that way.”



So, without a word, Cahill’s sister hopped over to the left path.



“Much better,” Oona said. “You’ll only got horribly lost this way.”



“And if I don’t wish to get lost?”



“Then you shouldn’t go jumping off the path you’re on all willy-nilly, should you?” Oona asked, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.



And with that, both head and body disappeared. They faded from view slowly, the pink and purple parts lingering in the air just a little while longer than the rest.



If his aunt had meant to do anything other than confuse the girl, Cahill had to confess that the method to her madness was lost on him. But his sister simply shrugged, started humming to herself, and skipped down the path.



Just how Brittany managed to skip while wearing those shoes, he didn’t rightly know, but he wasn’t about to complain. Her tight little body somehow managed to bounce and jiggle most delightfully as she did.



Not that he noticed, of course. Because he’d only just got done scolding himself for seeing his sister as a piece of meat. It wouldn’t do to go right back to marveling at the surprisingly generous curves of her young body after that. Wouldn’t do at all.



A dozen paces or so down the path, Brittany stopped abruptly. She sat down, pulled a block of wood out of nowhere, and started painting it with a brush that hadn’t been in her hands a moment earlier. Cahill zoomed closer, miraculously resisting the urge to look down the front of his sister’s dress as he did, and focused on the sign she. And, indeed, that was clearly what it was going to be. His sister first formed an arrow, pointing left, along the bottom. Then, above it, in neat red letters, she traced the words, “This way.”



Giving herself a satisfied nod, Brittany stood up. She conjured a wooden spike, drove it into the soft ground, and then affixed the sign to the post. The arrow pointed ahead of her.



Lewis Carroll himself would have been proud.



From that point on, Faerie and Wonderland warred with one another constantly. At times, Cahill could almost believe that he’d been transported to the titular world of the literary classic. His sister would encounter visual puns, recite nonsense poems, or solve surreal variants of familiar puzzles. Throughout it all, there was a sense that the oddities were random and meaningless, more psychedelic than symbolic. Yet Cahill suspected that, as with Carroll’s work, the absurdities played upon esoteric mathematical or logical principles.



It was never long after his sister stumbled upon the members of their family that events would take an entirely fey turn though. All the wordplay and puns, absurdities and puzzles, would go out the window. The impossible remained very much possible, with exotic physical changes a prominent theme, but there was a distinctly sexual tinge to everything. Nothing surreal happened for the sake of being surreal. Everything that defied reason served a purpose. To arouse and titillate.



When his sister stumbled upon the White Rabbits shortly thereafter, Seamus was chasing Fiona in circles around an old tree stump. A scoreboard hung from a branch overhead, proclaiming both that Seamus trailed his sister by three point two seconds and that she herself was losing the race by the same amount. No doubt a clever commentary on the zero-sum nature of political contests or some such. But before Cahill could ponder the symbolism at any length, the three of them were humping like bunnies.



He enjoyed watching all of it. The sex most of all, of course, but not just that. At times, it was hard to resist the temptation to join in, his aunt’s loose script be damned. Other times, he just wanted the scene to end. Wanted to see his sister move along and hook up with someone else. But he was never bored, not even for a second.



The most enjoyable scene had of course been with Seamus and Fiona. All of the participants treated each other with such deep affection, seeking to give and to please. It had been hard for Cahill not to feel a bit jealous of his brother as he watched him make love to their two lovely sisters, but the sublime beauty of it all had been a wonder to behold, and he’d not have wanted to do anything to ruin it. After the first minute or so, he’d hardly even noticed that he was getting excited by seeing two beautiful women get fucked by a rabbit. A decidedly anthro one, to be sure, but Cahill had never considered himself a furry.



Alice’s encounter with Tweedledee and Tweedledum had been simultaneously uncomfortable and heartwarming. Predictably enough, Reilly had tried to get a bit rough with Brittany, even though she evidently wasn’t as into that as Oona was. What Cahill hadn’t expected, though, was the alacrity with which Finnegan threatened violence against his brother as a result. Perhaps the cutesy nickname his sister had used to refer to their cousin earlier should have tipped him off, but the apparent bond between “Finnie” and Brittany still surprised Cahill. And though part of him felt a tinge of jealousy he wouldn’t have felt had she looked at Seamus that way, he was pleased to see the softer side of his cousin. That either of Oona’s boys were capable of noticing someone other than their mother, let alone putting her needs above his own, was news to Cahill, and welcome news at that.



Once Oona had appeared, Cahill almost found the second act as arousing as the first. Partly, that was because his aunt was such a dynamo, but mostly it was that his mother’s arrival gave Reilly cause to forget all about his cousin.



The tea party had been his least favorite, but only because Macha and her children were Cahill’s least favorite relatives. He didn’t have anything against them, really, though he did always feel a little tense around Duncan. There was even a soft spot in Cahill’s heart for Teagan, however little she appealed to him physically. She was probably the sweetest girl he’d ever met. No, the three of them weren’t his least favorite because he disliked them. It was just that they didn’t feel like family, not the way his fellow members of Clan Walker did. Even Reilly, who Cahill sometimes felt like punching in the face.



Of course, he’d have been lying if he were to say that he hadn’t been turned on at all by that little all-blonde orgy. The crazy outfits helped, as did the fact that Duncan, who was every bit as aggressive as Reilly, focused most of his attention on his mother. Cahill didn’t mind watching that, so long as he knew the woman was okay with it. And Macha was not just okay with a little rough play, but thoroughly enjoyed it. Watching Brittany and Teagan pleasure one another wasn’t quite as exciting to Cahill as seeing his two sisters go at it earlier had been, but their lovemaking had still been pretty hot.



At last, his turn came.



Cahill hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to lead off the encounter with his little sister by asking her, “Who are you?”



“Alice, of course,” she said, spreading the hem of her dress wide as she gave him a deep curtsy. Somewhere along the line, her stockings had gone from solid to fishnet, the white apron had become a stiff corset, and her hair had turned raven black, presumably reverting to its natural color. Even so, there was indeed no mistaking the resemblance. “But I think, in this case, it should be me asking that question.”



“Name’s Cahill. But nevermind that. You’ve told me what role you’re playing,” Cahill said. “That wasn’t what I asked, though. So I say again: who are you?”



His sister shrugged. “Brittany O’Malley.”



Cahill stared into the girl’s blue eyes. They were uncommonly dark for blue eyes, almost purple, and made his seem pale and colorless in comparison. Yet, despite her unique irises and more modest curves than were found in the rest of the women of their clan, the family resemblance was unmistakeable. It was in her lips. None of the Walker women had pronounced cupid’s bows. His mother almost did, but Fiona and Oona had the sort of upper lips that were almost uniformly thick, save for a slight bulge in the center. Brittany’s lips, though dark pink instead of the red favored by the rest of the family, were the same. It was in her eyebrows, which were thicker and darker than those found on any Dreamsmyth. It was in her chin, which was delicate, but not pointed like Macha’s and Teagan’s almost were. Her cute little nose, a little rounder than might be found on other fey women.



This girl was no O’Malley. She was a Walker, through and through.



“Truly?” Cahill asked.



Brittany sighed, if not quite in exasperation. “You are one of them, aren’t you?” she asked. “You’ve got a look of maturity to you, but you can’t be my father. Everyone keeps telling me I’ll probably never meet him. So you must be my uncle or something, right?”



“Brother, in fact,” he said. “Youngest of the three.”



His sister snorted. “Youngest, he says.”



“I stayed in the Dreaming too long,” he said. “I’ve only just woke up.”



“Oh, that’s a new one,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If I don’t let go of the real world, I’m going to get old and fat and ugly. But if I join the figments of my imagination here in Wonderland, I can stay young and pretty forever! How convenient.”



Cahill toked on his hookah without saying a word. He wasn’t even sure what was in the bowl himself. Whatever it was, it was powerful, yet unbelievably smooth.



“Sorry,” Brittany said as she climbed up onto the overgrown mushroom. “Didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. It’s just that I thought tonight might be the first time I get to enjoy all the good parts of these dreams without having to put up with that other bullshit.”



Hearing profanity from his kid sister, however light, jarred Cahill. With her youthful face and unbearably cute voice, she didn’t seem like she should know such words.



“It’s not bullshit, Brit,” he said, using the diminutive without even thinking about it.



Too much time spent around Seamus, most like. Ordinarily, he’d only use a nickname after getting to know someone fairly well. Or being told that she should do so.



“I know, I know,” she said, reaching for his hookah. “This world might not be real, but you’re still my true family.”



Cahill chuckled at that. He felt the sudden urge to ruffle his sister’s hair, but he refrained from doing so. Bad enough that he’d already presumed to call her by a nickname.



“That bothered me too,” he said. “How they play with words like that.”



She cocked an eyebrow at him while puffing away on the golden mouthpiece.



“The more time you spend here, the more you start to think like that,” he said. “Gets so you can’t even help it, they tell me. Myself, I only just arrived, so I’m not as bad yet. If that’s really bad. I don’t know. My point is, they don’t even remember that world. What we call the Dreaming. I once asked Fiona where she grew up, and she said New York, then corrected herself, claiming to be a California girl. In the end, she admitted she had no idea, and that those were the only names she even remembered.”



Brittany giggled at that.



“I can tell you all about Boston though, which is where I grew up. Savannah, too, where I’ve lived for the past few years. This place is almost as alien to me as it is to you.” He took the pipe back from her. “Or, rather, the world this place is based on. Because, of course, we’re not actually in Faerie.”



“We’re not?” she asked.



“No,” he explained. “Nor are you really here. You’re still asleep. Having sort of an out-of-body experience. Only when you decide to leave the world you know behind will you see the real thing. Which is mostly what you’d expect, but…more so, if that makes sense.”



Evidently, it did not.



“Everything looks sharper. The colors are brighter. You can hear and smell things better. And, of course, everything feels more intense.”



His sister’s eyes went a little wide at that. She licked her lips before taking the tube back from him, though he hadn’t yet had a chance to take another hit.



“I’ll give you this,” Brittany said after taking a series of puffs. She coughed up a bit before letting the smoke stream from her nostrils. “You’re more convincing than the rest.”



Cahill took one of her hands in his. She gave him a flat look that wasn’t quite reproachful, but hardly welcomed the gesture. He resisted the urge to let go.



“It sounds too good to be true, I know. You’re thinking that this is just your subconscious trying to cope with the feeling you’ve always had deep down that you don’t belong. That you’re different from everyone else.”



The look in her deep blue eyes softened. Nothing but cliches were spilling forth from between his lips, but they had a certain resonance all the same. Of course they did. He’d only been guessing, but he hadn’t exactly been taking a huge risk in so doing.



“So why don’t I ever see any of you in the real world?” she asked. “Sorry, the Dreaming.”



Cahill offered her a soft smile. “Because we’re forbidden-”



“Right, right, of course. Forgot all about the evil queen.”



“She’s real, you know,” Cahill said.



“Is she truly?”



That time, he did mess up her perfect hair. Of course, it righted itself a moment after his hand retreated anyway. That was just how things worked here.



“And she’s our grandmother.”



“Okay, that’s new,” his sister confessed.



So he told her who their father was, and how Macha was actually related to them. How he knew such things, though, he did not to divulge. So far as he could tell, none of their siblings or cousins knew the truth. Only through Liadan had he come to learn the truth.



“But we’re not in the Emerald Court,” Brittany said when he was done.



“Not really,” Cahill said. “Sorta, I guess. I think this is still part of his jurisdiction, at least. But this is just a stepping stone, if you will. Mom created it for our benefit.”



“Mmm-hmm,” his sister said between puffs on his hookah.



“Once you join us, we’ll have no need of it anymore,” he added.



His mother had explained that during one of their brief intermissions. There’d be some ritual to disassemble it, in fact, lest some mortals accidentally leave their world without realizing it. That didn’t happen often, she’d said, but it wasn’t entirely without precedent.



“I don’t know, Cahill,” she said. “Something about it just doesn’t sound right.”



“Doesn’t it, though?” he asked. “You know it shouldn’t, and that’s what’s making you say that, but part of you can’t deny that nothing has ever rang so true, right?”



She didn’t reply at first. Then she said, “So says the Caterpillar, whose smoking me out with some of the kindest bud I’ve ever had.”



Cahill smiled. That wasn’t quite how he’d put it, but he wasn’t eighteen anymore.

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