Homelands Pt. 09 Ch. 03

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Big Tits


Author’s note

Part Nine concludes the portion of the series set in Spring. It is not necessary for you to have read the first six parts of the story, but this may be hard to follow if you haven’t read Parts Seven and Eight. Part Ten will take us to Winter, and pull all the previous threads together.

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.

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. I’ll try to respond promptly.


“We already have three stars,” Cahill heard his sister say as he descended the stairs, reaching the second floor. “Wouldn’t be good to add any more.”

Brittany stood at the counter separating the kitchenette from the common area. She had her tools spread out before her and a silver ring in her hand. Across from her, Maisie knelt on a high-backed stool, elbows on the marble countertop, and her chin propped up on her little fists. “Why not?” she asked. “They’re pretty. And that smooth spot looks funny.”

“There’s power in threes,” Brit said. Her eyes found Cahill and she gave him a quick smile and a little wave before turning her attention back to Aeife’s daughter. “Besides, I’ve left it like that for a reason.”

“What’s that?” the girl asked. With something pretty being created before her very eyes, she couldn’t be bothered to turn around and acknowledge his presence.

Cahill walked over to them, ran a hand through Maisie’s black hair by way of hello, and leaned in to inspect the ring. Just the ring, though. His eyes definitely did not flit down to his sister’s incredibly tight shirt, taking note of the way it made her modest breasts look bigger than they were. Not even a little. “How’s it coming?” he asked.

She pinched her collar with thumb and forefinger and gave it a little tug before answering. Despite the gesture, her Libido informed him that she didn’t mind the attention. At all.

For someone who was working with cold, lifeless metal, teaching a little girl how their kind used their powers to make enchanted jewelry, she was awfully aroused. Was his mere arrival, and the quick glimpse she’d caught him stealing, that exciting?

Of course. Why shouldn’t it be? He was about as impressive as a guy could be, after all.

Still, his sister didn’t always react thus to his presence. Something had gotten into her.

“Almost done,” she said. “Got that acorn for me?”

He nodded, reached into his pocket, and retrieved the charm. Brittany held out her hand and he dropped it into her cupped palm.

A sense of vulnerability fell upon him the moment it left his possession. Putting the flute down had never done that to him before. It was as though the charm knew it would soon find a new owner. He felt a little reassured by that. His son needed the protection more than he did, and if the charm was even more powerful than he’d realized, so much the better. But he couldn’t help also feeling as though he now had a hole in him.

“That?” Maisie asked. “It’s silver.”

“So’s the ring,” Brittany said.

“Exactly!” The girl said. “Why not something sparkly?”

“Such as?”

“A jewel,” she said, as though speaking to someone who’d asked what color the sky was. What was jewelry for, after all, if not to put jewels in things? “A big, fat amethyst.”

Brittany laughed. “Not a diamond? Or maybe an emerald?”

“I like amethysts,” the girl mumbled, sulking. Then, drawing herself up a little straighter, she said, “Mom says that’s what my eyes look like.” She finally turned to Cahill, batting her eyelashes at him, just in case he might have missed the invitation to look confirm that her deep purple irises did indeed resemble the semi-precious stone. Before he could do so, she added, a bit begrudgingly, “Morgan’s too. But he doesn’t count.”

“Course not,” Cahill said, smiling. “He’s a boy.”

Maisie stared flatly at him. “Don’t blame me,” she might as well have said. “I don’t make the rules.” Or maybe, “Not my fault you lost that coin toss.”

“It’s not just for decoration,” Brittany said, setting the acorn down on the counter.

“It’ll strengthen the glamour,” Cahill added.

It took Maisie a moment to decide she was willing to believe that he might know something about the matter, even though it involved jewelry. Those little amethysts were quite good at conveying skepticism. “How’s it gonna do that?”

“It’s a charm,” he told her. “It’s got glamour already. Lots and lots.”


Brittany smiled as she plucked a tiny chunk of unworked silver from a box. She rested it against the single smooth patch of the ring, devoid of the elaborate engravings mersin escort she’d worked into the rest of the band, and tapped it with a single blue fingernail. The metal melted, melded itself to the ring, and formed an inset for the acorn. But when his sister placed the little charm against the ring, what he’d taken for an inset melted again. Liquified metal poured in an unnatural direction, joining ring and charm, then cooled instantly. A moment later, it was impossible to tell that the acorn had ever not been part of the ring.

“Still think it’d be better with an amethyst,” Maisie said, clearly having difficulty containing her frustration with their inability to see the obvious.

“Tell you what,” Brittany said, tapping the tip of the girl’s nose with her index finger, “we’ll make you one next. With as many amethysts as you want.”

“You can’t fit that many,” she said.

To Cahill’s ears, it almost sounded like a taunt. But then he realized she’d meant it matter-of-factly, and he smiled to himself.

“As many as we can, then.”

“I’d rather a necklace.”

Brittany favored the child with a small grin. “Alright then. A necklace.”

Maisie gave an emphatic nod of approval.

But his sister had already moved on. She was staring at Cahill so hard that he almost felt a physical pressure. Or maybe it was the way her energy was reaching out to him, straining against the walls of her Libido. Aching to join itself to his. “Maisie, honey,” she said without looking at the girl, “would you go find your Aunt Fiona and tell her I’d like to see her?”

The girl was, in fact, their aunt. But they all felt more comfortable pretending Maisie was their niece, no matter that Aeife was their grandmother. Doing so made her feel like she fit better with the other children, whom she considered cousins.

The nine-year-old looked from the aunt who was actually her niece to the uncle who was really her nephew, clearly bewildered by the intensity with which they were staring into each other’s eyes. Cahill couldn’t entirely blame her. He was a bit confused by it himself.

Not that it was unwelcome, of course. He could feel the limits of his own Libido being tested by its contents. Blood rushed between his legs, making his pants fit a little worse.

“Grown-ups are weird,” Maisie declared as she climbed down from her stool.

“I hear you’re going to protect my dreams,” Brittany said after the girl left, handing him the ring that would hopefully keep Titania out of Ty’s head.

There were lots of ways to protect dreams, several of which his sister could have performed by herself. She’d endowed the ring with the appropriate glamour, after all. But the one his grandmother had showed him the night before was, she insisted, the most reliable. Even Titania would find it impossible to get past such protections, whereas the ring might simply make it more difficult for her to harass Ty than others.

“That’s the rumor going round,” he said.

“Just a rumor, is it?” she asked, coming around from behind the counter.

He glanced quickly down at jeans that were every bit as tight as her shirt and the curves to which they clung. She wasn’t built like the other women of Clan Walker, but she didn’t seem to know it. Or care. Those hips didn’t seem quite so narrow when she moved like that.

Without warning, her shirt disappeared. It didn’t turn to smoke or drip off her like sweat or do any of the other things their clothes did when they were feeling creative. It just vanished altogether, revealing a shiny black vinyl bra.

“You like?” she asked, cupping one of her breasts as she pressed the other hand against his chest. “Feels weird, but I’m getting used to it. My nipples have been hard all day, but I’m not sure if that’s because of the bra or the thoughts I’ve been having since I put it on.”

Cahill’s throat constricted. “Why is everyone so convinced I’m into that now?”

His sister smiled. As her hand slid over the bra, skin barely in contact with the latex, it made a soft skidding sound that sent shivers down his spine.

“Stop,” he said, grabbing both her wrists.

“Why? You gonna spank me if I don’t?”

“No,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “I’m really not-“

“It’s okay,” Brittany cut in. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” he said, as some semblance of rational thought returned to him. “One of the kids is liable to walk in on us.”

“Good point,” she said, stepping closer to him but making no effort to free her hands from his. “We should move to the bedroom.”

“What about Fi?”

A voice, deep for a woman yet undeniably feminine, asked, “What about me?”

Cahill turned and found his other sister entering the room. He caught a momentary glimpse of her favorite green dress before it changed. The next thing he knew, she was wearing a camisole, garter, and thigh highs. All shiny black latex.

“For kocaeli escort fuck’s sake,” he said.

“You bitch,” Brittany said, laughing. “Just had to top me, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me, Catwoman catsuit?” she asked. “I knew this why you sent for me.”

Cahill stepped away from Brittany and held his hands in the air, as if surrendering to the police. “Seriously, I don’t have a fetish.”

“You mean this one?” Fi, who was well acquainted with his love of feet, asked.

Brittany traced rings around her nipple with the tip of her finger, producing soft squeaking sounds. “That why you can’t stop staring?”

“Brit, if you touched yourself like that while wearing dung, I’d stare.”

“Please tell me you’re not into that,” Fi said in a tone that wasn’t the least bit concerned. “I try to keep an open mind and all, but scat?”

Cahill covered his face. She might be teasing about that, but the two really did seem to have convinced themselves that he was into fetish clothing. And perhaps the kink so often associated therewith. And both seemed to be okay with that, which was particularly surprising coming from Fiona. “One, we’re not doing this now,” he said. “Two, if we were, I’d rather you wear regular clothes. Or nothing.”

“We believe him?” Fi asked Brit, encircling her sister’s narrow waist with her arms.

“Suppose he didn’t leave himself much wiggle room, did he?” Brit responded, wiggling her bottom against her sister for emphasis.

“It was hot that one time,” Cahill said. “But this is unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary? Or unappealing?” his younger sister asked.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not the way he wanted to. But that didn’t mean what they were making it sound like it did.

“Please,” he said.

“Fine, fine,” Brittany said, suddenly wearing a blue lacy bra rather than a black shiny one. Her jeans melted away, leaving nothing but panties that matched her bra and blue platform pumps. “Spoil all the fun why donchya.”

He seemed to recall saying something about spoiling even more fun. Middle of the day. Kids could walk in on them. All that jazz. But that seemed so irrelevant all of a sudden. Especially since he’d meant to find the time for Fiona the day before, and hadn’t.

“I think maybe he wants Titania to invade our dreams,” Fiona said.

“Sounds like it,” Brittany replied.

Without another word, Cahill turned and went into the bedroom his sister shared with Finnegan. No more arguing. No more teasing. He’d give them what they want, and give it to them good. But on his terms.

As he waited on the bed for his sisters to join him, his mind almost processed the spartan decor for which Finnegan was no doubt responsible. The cream color to the bare walls, the absence of paintings, flowers, and shelves. The single brown rug in the center of the hardwood floor. But there was less room than usual in his mind for marveling at how his sister, whose tastes weren’t all too different from Maisie’s, put up with that. He was more focused on thinking about what he wanted to do to his two sisters.

And how wrong that was.

The children were one reason. Closed doors and silence glamours could protect the young ones from being traumatized by discovering something they weren’t prepared to grapple with and the old ones from something they’d prefer not to think about, but they had greater obligations to their kids than that. They needed to spend time with them. Play games with them. Help them cultivate their interests and learn new things. True, they weren’t as young as they used to be, and were growing more and more independent, and true he could use a different glamour to make sure they weren’t gone nearly as long as they’d be in the room together, but there was still something selfish about indulging their sexual appetites during the day. The very thought of it made him feel like a bad parent.

Worse, it made him feel like he was betraying his mother. If he was going to violate a rule they were all relatively fastidious about observing, it should only be with her.

But Fi. Fi, Fi, Fi.

He got chills just remembering the look on her face, and the feel of her Libido, when she’d asked him yesterday if he could sneak away before dinner. His sister had never been cold or unaffectionate towards him, but neither did she behave quite like that too often. That wasn’t to say it was entirely without precedent. Every now and then, for no particular reason, his sister would get a hankering for him that would cause her to behave like a woman half her age. It would go away shortly after a good sexual encounter, only to reemerge a few weeks, or if he wasn’t too lucky, a few months, later. There was no telling when she’d get like this again. How could he not make the best of it while it was here?

When his sisters came through the door, wearing their nice, normal, non-shiny lingerie, lust finished muscling guilt aside. The samsun escort latter would return in time, but for now, he could think about nothing but the two of them. And the looks they were giving him.

Cahill closed his eyes and worked glamours quickly. Sealed the room off. Trapped all sounds they’d make within, and pulled them farther away from Faerie so that time would pass more slowly on the other side of the bedroom door than in here.

Then he opened his eyes again and drank in his two sexy sisters.

Fiona again one-upped Brittany. Where the younger sister wore naught but bra and panties, aside that was from a cute pair of shoes, Fi had replaced her latex with an emerald satin corset, nicely ornamented with a black lace and a satin sash around the waist, a black thong, and sheer black stockings with tiny green bows. Her emerald Mary Janes glittered in the light of the midmorning sun streaming through the bay window. The corset made a considerable chest all the more impressive, the stockings flattered her shapely legs, and the heels brought everything together beautifully.

It was borderline sacrilegious for the fey to wear anything on their feet. The sin was forgivable while indoors, but it still wasn’t feylike. Yet he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Having decided to raise their children among mortals had changed many things about them. Though their kids knew what they were, as none of the previous generation of Walkers had before coming of age, Clan Walker didn’t observe more than a few of the fey customs these days. And in some ways, that bothered Cahill. He worried that things wouldn’t be the same when their children came of age and the clan returned to Faerie. That his kids would never experience quite the same sense of wonder, of otherworldliness, that he had, if their parents brought too much of the Dreaming back with them.

But of all the mortal customs they’d too comfortably adopted as their own, wearing shoes was definitely the least offensive. That one, he wouldn’t mind seeing remain with them.

Cahill felt like he took every inch of his sisters’ bodies, Fiona’s especially, and analyzed it thoroughly in his mind. Committed each detail to memory for the thousandth time, though he’d be no more successful in the endeavor than ever before. Any less likely to stare as if for the first time when next he found himself in such a situation. How could he not? To do otherwise would have been an insult to their considerable beauty. That was an exaggeration, of course. He didn’t have time for that. It would only take them a few moments to reach the bed, even moving as slow and seductively as they were. But it felt like that was what he did. Like time had compressed purely to allow him to admire them properly.

He liked what he saw. A lot. And he liked how they contrasted with each other. Brittany was a bit skinny for his tastes, if not entirely without feminine curves, but that seemed more pro than con in situations like this. What was the point of a threesome, after all, if the two women had the same sort of appeal? Better that they have different shapes, and preferably different styles of lovemaking as well.

Which, of course, his sisters did.

“Did we tease you too much?” Brittany asked as she climbed onto the bed beside him. Wasting no time, her hands went straight to his belt buckle.

“We only sort of meant to,” Fiona added from his other side. She started playfully flicking buttons off his shirt with her green nails, as though cleaning off some crumbs. “Whatever you do, don’t spank us repeatedly with your strong hands until we cum hard.”

His dick suddenly got so hard it ached. Not that it had been soft before.

She didn’t mean it, of course. While his older sister occasionally flirted with a darker side, she did so only very occasionally. By and large, she liked things slow and sensual, tender and soft. Brittany might actually enjoy some erotic spanking. Though his younger sister’s tastes weren’t too extreme, neither were they as tame as Fiona’s. But Fi? No, if she was even open to being spanked, he very much doubted she’d get off on it. The thing was, what sounded like an invitation was actually mockery. Plain and simple. Not only weren’t his sisters sorry for suggesting that he’d been nurturing a secret interest in BDSM for some time, they weren’t done with that game.

He was, though.

Cahill reached behind his older sister and gave her big ass a slap. A rather hard one, at that. She let out a sound that was equal parts whimper and laughter before reaching back to touch her stinging bottom. He brushed her hand away, though. And as soon as it made way, he smacked her most glorious asset again, nearly as hard as the first time. There wasn’t too much laughter in her reaction the second time.

“None for me?” Brittany asked, pulling his belt out through the loops of his jeans.

An unseen hand delivered a sharp blow to her backside. Her whimper made his cock twitch. Yeah, Brittany might well enjoy it if he took her over his knee and spanked her properly. And he might as well, if only because she would.

“Okay, okay,” Fi said, opening his shirt. She didn’t sound particularly amused anymore, but neither was she upset. Just very ready to move on. “You called our bluff.”

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