Parasite Dawn Ch. 06

Parasite Dawn - Part 6

Bartholomew Cawl had to make a house call. Not for faith, or for final rites, or any of his usual duties.

No. He needed information. History. And only the elders of Donstorf would have what he needed. If they had what he needed.

For he only had a few writings. Scrawlings, really. Of something that had happened over a century ago. More. It seems few records were ever really kept of why the Ettenswood was not safe to venture into, why it was cursed. He knew that superstition. And he knew a little bit more than most in the village.

But not as much as the Elders. They'd have a bit more to share.

For he had concerns. Suspicions. He couldn't be a totally certain about it. It was more gut feeling than solid evidence.

But he was bound by his oath to the faith, as a priest, to investigate anything that may be of harm to the souls of his flock.

The younger folk were of no help; though most gained the superstitions of their elders, none new anything about the whys. And if what he suspected was true, they were the most vulnerable.

And if his worst fears were true, they were the greatest threat.

He needed to know more, and so he found himself before the door of an older building in the village. Not the oldest, but it befitted the people who lived there.

Wizened, if not always as wise as people thought they were. Bartholomew had on more than one occasion played the part of second opinion because of less-than-sound advice given by these old folks.

But for the most part, their tales had kernels of truth, and their memories were longer than anyone else.

He knocked on the old wooden door, spared the same degree of darkening as the rest of the wooden house and the shingles of its roof.

He heard a throat clear, grunts of aged exertion, and hobbling footsteps across a creaking floor.

The door opened, and a man stood in it.

He would've been quite stocky and tall once, but now in age, he had a hunch that lowered him nearly a foot.

One of his eyes had gone blind, leaving it glassy and grey, but the other had a sharpness to its brown hue, even if it wasn't always quite looking at whoever he was talking to.

His grey hair was a dishevelled nest, but at least it was clean. And yet, he had only a thin layer of facial hair to break up his heavily wrinkled face.

He still had all his teeth, save for one of his canines, replaced with a wooden substitute, drilled into his jawbone.

As usual, he was wearing grey flax clothes, pants and shirt both. The only real colour he had on him was his red handkerchief, which was always tied around his left wrist.

"Oh? Father Cawl? What can I do for ya?" he asked, sounding hoarse in the throat, but sharp of the tongue.

"Mister Creedmoor," Bartholomew greeted. "May I come in?"

"Anything for you, Father," the old man beckoned, gesturing inside.

"You want ta know about that?"

"You and your wife are some of the oldest people in the village, and your memories are as sharp as ever."

Bartholomew was sat with Mister Creedmoor and his wife in their central room; a living space, kitchen, and dining room, all in one. Their home was not very large, and it certainly looked old inside. Clean, well kept, but old. Cobwebs clung to the rafters and corners where the old couple could not reach.

Missus Creedmoor was sitting next to her husband. Compared to him, she had a more refined look to her, sitting straight while he slumped a little, quiet and composed with her hands in her lap.

Her green eyes were both a little cloudy, her eyesight not as good as it used to be. It didn't stop her putting on her sky blue clothes, immaculately kept. Her curly grey hair was still springy, but her face had certainly lost its pliancy, as wrinkled as Old Man Creedmoor.

Both wore simple silver rings, denoting their matrimony.

But while they seemed so different in appearance and mannerisms, both were prone to that same fanciful advice.

"We do our best to remember what our ancestors passed along through the generations," Missus Creedmoor assured with a dainty nod.

Mister Creedmoor took a swig of ale, his equivalent of water. No matter how much he drank, he never got more than a little tipsy. He cleared his throat again.

"So it's something old, huh? And not advice," the old man remarked.

Bartholomew nodded.

"I want to know about the Ettenswood. People aren't to venture in there. It's not safe. But why?" the priest asked.

Both the Creedmoors furrowed their brows, looking serious.

"Long ago, before our time, by a few generations, something supposedly plagued this village and the lands around it. Got inta people's heads, made them do things, made 'em crazy," Mister Creedmoor began.

"It wasn't a disease, it was something else," Missus Creedmoor continued. "Something evil, terrible. It put ideas into people's heads, made them worship it."

"It?" Bartholomew inquired.

Mister Creedmoor shrugged.

"Whatever it was. Unfortunately, our fathers didn't tell us much," he admitted.

"Only that they fought to the heart of the evil and burned it out, and all who fell to it. Left nothing behind," Missus Creedmoor added.

Bartholomew listened quietly, and thought.

"Is there anything in particular you know about this 'heart'? A location, perhaps?"

They both shrugged this time.

"Somewhere in the forest. But I don't expect to find anything there, and we wouldn't know where to look," the old woman explained.

"Our forefathers probably didn't want people goin' lookin' fer it. And they probably didn't leave anything behind to be found."

"But is it perhaps possible that this evil is back?" Bartholomew ventured. "Or at the very least, may be on the verge of returning?"

The Creedmoors looked at each other, and then laughed; Mister Creedmoor's a harsh chuckle, Missus Creedmoor's a dainty little giggle.

"Oh heavens no. Whatever it was, it was destroyed long ago. And as long as people don't go too deep into the woods, there's no risk should any of this evil have somehow survived. Nothing wrong with a bit of caution," Missus Creedmoor assured.

"An' burnin' down the whole forest ain't the best idea. We do get wood from it, and game, and other things. Just don't go deep and you'll be fine," Mister Creedmoor explained.

"But in the event this evil does return, what should we look for? If it sends people crazy, how?"

"Why do you ask? Do you believe it has returned?" Missus Creedmoor inquired.

Bartholomew shook his head with a small wave of his hand.

"I don't know. Just concerns really. Behaviour I'm not certain of. A gut feeling that I haven't been able to quell."

"Well, yer gut feeling's a good thing, but take it from me, a gut feeling ain't infallible. Sometimes it makes a mighty mistake," Mister Creemoor stated.

"Perhaps you need to take a break, Father Cawl," Missus Creedmoor suggested. "I'm sure the village can survive without your sermons temporarily."

"Thank you, I'll keep it in mind," Bartholomew answered diplomatically.

"Anything else you'd like to ask?" Missus Creedmoor offered.

Bartholomew shook his head.

"No, thank you. You've been most helpful," he said, rising from his seat, and dipping his head politely. "May the spirits guide your way."

He quickly made a gesture of blessing, and left the house.

The Creedmoors hadn't been as helpful as he hoped. And they were certain Donstorf wasn't in any danger. And admittedly, they may have had a point. He really had no tangible evidence that anything was amiss.

Still, he could not shake that gut feeling. A sense of warning.

Some of his interactions with a few people these past few weeks had left him concerned. But without real evidence, it was little more than paranoia, and unlike some dullwitted preachers who'd proselytise at the first whiff of 'evil and malcontent' even when it was their own prejudice at play, Bartholomew was loathe to act out without the facts.

Forming a witch hunt over people who may be innocent, or at most, guilty of harmless sins, was the last thing he wanted.

But still, his instincts were demanding that he act. On what, he didn't know, and that was the problem.

There was perhaps only one other option, but he dared not leave the village. Not until he was sure.

That's when he ran into Regina Graff.

She was a young thing, barely twenty summers, short hair with an auburn sheen and lingering freckles. Her face was narrow, but she was pretty. Not that Bartholomew was remotely interested, but he wasn't blind to good looks. It was in fact important to recognise, to see if someone was using their looks for ill aims, or if someone was suffering owing to perceived ugliness.

She dressed modestly, reflecting her shy nature, sporting dull green shirt and skirt, a little baggy and kept meticulously clean. It also helped hide her skinny frame, which Bartholomew suspected she was self-conscious about.

Her leather boots were muddy, however, so she had likely come back from the Miller farmstead.

She was going there to deliver books to their son, who was studying to go to a school in Mollorn. He showed an aptitude, and instead of insisting he help on the farm, which he does, his parents did their best to find him books to learn, a rare opportunity.

Otherwise, Regina often assisted Bartholomew with less clerical tasks at the church. And she was just who he needed.

"Oh, Father Cawl!" she exclaimed, but even then, her voice was small and timid. "I didn't expect you to be here."

"I was just making a visit. But on personal matters. Matters which I could use your assistance with," he answered.

Regina raised a brow.

"Oh? What is it you need, Father?"

"I need you to take the next carriage to Mollorn and visit the archives there. They're not very big, I know, but they may have information I'm sorely lacking here. It may be nothing, or it may be the proof I need to confirm these concerns of mine," he began, with little preamble.

"Concerns? About what?" Regina rightly asked.

Bartholomew looked around as if someone might be listening in.

"I'm not entirely sure. But if you can find anything regarding the superstitions surrounding the Ettenswood, anything at all, I would like you to bring it back. I'll find what else might be hidden away in the town's own archives... as much as that term applies to Gilbert Tannerson's 'library'."

Regina looked rightly worried, but nodded with the discipline Bartholomew had to come to know from her.

"I might be gone for a week or so. I'll get back to you as soon as I can," she said with a nod.

Bartholomew nodded in return, and allowed himself a thin but terribly rare smile.

"Thank you. May the spirits guide your way."

And may they guide his, he thought.

---

Marion might've been eating a rare treat - a beef steak, fresh from the butcher - but it was Colette, her own daughter, who she was staring at as though a cut of prize meat, at least surreptitiously.

Of course, she had no intention of eating Colette. Far from it. She loved her daughter. Colette was her life.

And now, she had to means to really show that love. To give Colette the next greatest gift Marion as a mother could ever give.

It had provided this opportunity, and she wasn't about to pass it up.

It was also an opportunity to make good on her sins of infidelity... soon, her husband would be one with It, like she was. And their love would be eternal.

But first, Colette... she was such a beautiful young woman. Already, she had many suitors in the village, but none approached her owing to her father's rightly strict criteria for a man. Colette couldn't just marry anyone.

Though soon, such strictness would be unnecessary. She would know who was right for her, while free to love anyone and everyone who had embraced It.

And to help others into that embrace...

Colette glanced upwards.

"You okay, mother?" she asked.

"It's nothing, just thinking about Harrod," Marion answered coolly. "I do miss him when he goes on these trips."

Colette knew nothing about her affair with Jaque. Marion did her best to hide it from her daughter as well, mostly for Colette's sake.

Now... well, in time, they might get to share Jaque together. Harrod could join in. One intimate encounter.

She took another bite of her steak, enjoying the juices that squeezed out of the meat. It was on the rarer side this night, Marion taking a small risk in an area she was less confident in.

But no matter. Her parasites enjoyed the meat. Sustenance to produce more. Colette would need plenty to foster a clutch of parasites quickly.

Marion was drooling just thinking about it, but she kept it cool. No need to alert her daughter before time.

Still, the ideas coursing through her head... the sense of taboo was thrilling, even if it was a meaningless thing in Its embrace.

As long as one was of mature mind and body, they were ready for Its love.

Marion smiled covertly, taking yet another bite of her steak, adding some vegetables to the mix so she didn't look too enamoured with the meat.

"Well, when father gets home, I think he'll want some peace and quiet for a little while. He always gets so tired," Colette remarked.

Marion understood that. Though the trips were hardly grand voyages, they still took the better part of a day or two, depending on when one left, and the conditions of the road, and Harrod didn't have the greatest stamina. And that was just travelling to Mollorn. On those rare occasions he went to Capurn, he was away for much longer, and was even more exhausted on his return.

It was a bit of a combination of things that led her to Jaque.

Harrod only sought out her company when he wanted to talk, and someone to listen. Though at the very least, he endeavoured to listen when she needed to talk.

He was a good man, just... absent. And unable to satisfy her needs.

It will all change soon...

Colette didn't miss her father so much during these trips. She loved him, but he could be quite strict with her. These occasions were opportunities for her to relax.

Again... things would be different soon.

"I know. But he does this because he loves us," Marion remarked.

It seemed like Colette had to stifle a rude scoff, lest she earn her mother's ire.

"I think he's just dedicated to his business. Perhaps more than he should be," Colette remarked.

Marion couldn't rebuke her there. Harrod wasn't exactly a merchant, but he frequently made deals with merchants, acting as a middleman for the farmers and the store owners here in Donstorf. It's why their family had such renown and influence.

Influence that would soon be turned to Its purposes.

"Don't worry, my girl," Marion assured. "He'll have time for us soon."

"What makes you say that?" Colette asked, half nonchalant.

"Just a hunch," Marion answered, going back to her meal.

Colette eyed her mother with a quirked brow, before shrugging and going back to her meal, not interested enough to question her mother further.

And when dinner was done, and Colette excused herself to go to bed after helping with the dishes, Marion licked her lips eagerly.

Tomorrow was going to be a wonderful day.

---

Marion's sleep was sound, tough her mind was awash with images of depravity and delight, It blessing her with visions of the future. Hints at what was to come for her and everyone else in time.

It got her rather excited, eager to share this bliss with Colette.

It didn't take long to find her daughter, reclined on the chair in the living room, something of a luxury for the people of Donstorf, most living in smaller homes with rooms serving multiple purposes. In that regard, the Folsom home was indicative of their wealth.

Colette raised her head, and got off the couch.

"Morning mother," she greeted casually. "Can I get you a drink of water?"

"Oh, yes please," Marion answered, watching as Colette stood up, wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

She caught herself drinking in the outline of that small but still curvy rump through Colette's skirt. Marion licked her lips hungrily.

Soon after, Colette returned with a glass of water, and Marion took it appreciatively, sipping its contents.

Before Colette could sit down again, Marion smiled and set the glass on the table before the crouch, getting Colette's attention.

"Colette, have I ever told you how good of a daughter you are?" Marion remarked.

Colette gave her mother a quizzical look, but nodded all the same.

"Maybe once or twice," she answered.

"And how much of a beautiful woman you've turned out to be?"

At that, Colette's face furrowed in embarrassment.

"Mother, please," she muttered, looking red in the face.

She turned around to sit down, but Marion caught her, hugging her from behind. Colette flinched and looked over her shoulder at Marion, a confused and annoyed look on her face.

"What's gotten into you?" she grumbled.

"Such a fine woman... so beautiful... so lovely~"

It was then that Marion's mood really shifted, as her hands started to roam along her daughter's body, her chest pressing into Colette's back.

"M-Mother? What are you doing?" Colette demanded, before her voice hitched in her throat feeling Marion's lips to the back of her neck, and a hand grope one of her breasts through her clothes.

"Am I not allowed to express my love for my darling daughter~?" Marion crooned, leaving sucking kisses behind against Colette's neck. One hand dipped low, and started pulling the skirt in between Colette's thighs.

It was at this point Colette started to struggle.

"N-Nuh, what the hell?! What is wrong with you, stop it!"

She tried to pull away from Marion's embrace, but that only excited her mother, Colette unwittingly triggering the woman's newfound predatory instincts.

She tried to recoil from a long tongue lick against the back of her neck, to no avail.

"I want to show you how much I love you, my beautiful Colette~" Marion crooned, rubbing Colette's crotch through her clothes. Marion's other hand took a firm hold of one of Colette's breasts, kneading the globe and enjoying how it felt beneath her palm, though she wanted to get rid of those clothes.

Colette, however, wasn't making it easy.

"Let go of me, you crazy bitch!" she shouted, sounding panicked and frightened, no idea what had gotten into her mother, the mother whose hands were busy touching and groping every sensitive spot on her body, whose laughs seemed to haunt her ears.

She struggled desperately, and managed to pull away, but not enough, finding herself spun around as Marion pulled her close for a kiss.

Colette tried to push away, but a kiss was stolen all the same, her eyes going wide as Marion's tongue invaded her mouth and licked her own.

Marion seemed far stronger than she usually did, more determined. Not even a slap seemed to dissuade her.

Colette thusly tried to force Marion off her, pushing against the woman's face... just in time to see dark violet tendrils slither out of Marion's open mouth.

Colette screamed as she saw this, having no idea what to think or do. She struggled to escape her mother's embrace as those tendrils lapped at her face, a thicker tentacle slithering out over Marion's tongue and aiming for Colette's mouth.

She clenched her jaws shut to deny it access, but her mother was still groping her, still fighting her, still trying to force her down.

And despite her struggles, she ended up tumbling backwards onto the couch, despite her best efforts. She tried to scream. She did scream, calling out for help. But no one seemed to hear. No one banging on the front door, no one smashing in windows to try and get inside.

Her panic worsened, torn between the unnatural horror that had taken her mother, and the fact her mother was trying to rape her.

Marion was chuckling, laughing, crawling atop of Colette and tugging down her pants, Marion doing her best to force her lips back onto Colette's, those tendrils trying to pry open her daughter's mouth.

Colette struggled desperately, but Marion was working fast, pulling Colette's pants further down her legs until they slipped off one of them, dangling by the other, underwear and all.

Marrion slipped off her own, naked from the waist down as she grabbed Colette's wrists and pinned them to the couch.

Colette's eyes widened in further terror upon seeing the tendrils and tentacle emerge from Marion's pussy. She tried to close her legs, to keep it away from her utterly vulnerable pussy, her thin slit hidden amidst a surprisingly wild bush for one so slender. But it wasn't going to do anything to stop such a flexible phallus.

And Marion was ahead of her daughter, pushing between the girl's thighs and using her own to keep Colette's legs spread, their clits touching as Marion pushed down against her daughter.

Those tendrils found their prey, coiling around Colette's waist and thighs, a few braving the brush around her vulva, while that larger tentacle aligned itself with her entrance.

And try as she might, Colette could not stop her mother, Marion claiming her daughter with a sharp thrust of her hips... that tentacle plunging deep inside of her daughter.

Colette loosed an unwitting cry tinged with a moan of unwanted stimulation... and that was all it took for Marion to seal her lips to Colette's, and plunge her tentacle down Colette's throat.

Colette's eyes widened, trying to shake her head to free herself from her mother's lip lock, but those smaller tendrils had found their way around her head, locking her in place as the organ bulging her throat began to secrete something into her gullet.

The tentacle was terribly sweet, its slimy film lathering a delicious flavour into her tongue with its incessant worming and wriggling, starting to pump back and forth inside her throat.

She still tried to resist, but she just couldn't get the strength to strike Marion hard enough. Worse, the look in Marion's eyes was anything but normal for her mother, but soulless it was not.

A terrible lust and desire had taken hold in them, burning with need for her daughter.

And when Marion started humping more, thrusting that tentacle in and out of Colette's pussy, much like her throat, Colette knew there was no stopping Marion.

Marion herself was intrigued by the ease of taking her daughter; Colette had no hymen. Had she not been born with one, as was known to happen? Had she lost it through self experimentation, or more mundane means?

Or perhaps she had surreptitiously enjoyed herself with one of the boys in Donstorf behind Marion and Harrod's backs.

Marion grinned at the thought, but soon there would be no need for secrecy, deepening her kiss against her daughter.

Drool stained Colette's lips, Marion twisting hers in reciprocal fashion against her daughter's, driven to erotic extremes, hungry for her daughter as she humped away, rocking her hips with fluid, obscene motions, thrusting hard into her daughter's sex, the sensation enhanced for Colette by the tentacle's own independent movement, given extra speed thanks to Marion's humping.

A lurid squelching noise escaped Colette's crotch, filling the living room with soft but obscene music. Colette tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the gagging in her throat, far subdued from what it ought to have been, and continued to fight, clawing at Marion's back whenever she managed to get her hands free momentarily, but Marion largely kept them pinned.

Leaving Colette little more than squirming and writhing, which only seemed to excite and arouse her mother. And worse... the tentacle defiling her womanhood was doing too good of a job stimulating her. Pleasurable arcs raced up her spine, her nerves prickling with pleasant sensation, leaving her susceptible to more of that same pleasure, slowly building upon itself, that tentacle in her pussy worming and hitting all of her most sensitive points, and teasing at her cervix.

She could feel herself nearing an unconscionable orgasm, beyond belief, but her body was defying her fear. Ecstasy was building inside of her, clouding her head as Marion continued her lecherous oral assault, kissing so erotically while that tentacle maintained its wicked probing of Colette's throat.

Her defiance continued, but it was a hopeless affair, starting to pant and moan beneath Marion's relentless violation.

Colette whimpered; she was being raped by her own mother and something more monstrous, and yet she was feeling so good. It was wrong, but irresistible.

That orgasm was coming, and she couldn't escape it. And then, it all came crashing down at once, a garbled scream escaping her as climax consumed her.

She spasmed beneath her mother, juices surging around that evil tentacle plunging into her depths, euphoria flooding her mind.

She arched her back, and had to listen to Marion crooning more salaciously than ever, those tentacles thrusting faster to keep Colette's orgasm going.

And then, Marion's eyes rolled upward... and she slammed her hips hard into Colette's crotch, that tentacle plunging deep and squeezing into her hapless daughter's womb, sending a lance of stimulation up Colette's spine.

Marion moaned so salaciously, so obscenely, arching her back and pushing her body hard into her daughter's... as a surge of viscous fluids and larval parasites flooded Colette's uterus, the latter worming their way through the tentacular organ rooted in Marion's own womb.

It throbbed and convulsed, each contraction pushing more of that nutrient and aphrodisiac-laden substance into Colette's body, to soothe her, and support her 'gift'.

And of course, Colette gurgled as Marion pumped more parasites down Colette's throat, her eyes rolling upwards as her mother implanted her with a suitable batch of larval parasites, ready to bring her enlightenment.

She started shuddering and spasming, her ecstasy overwhelming... not at all aided by Marion continuing to hump away once her orgasm had subsided.

It kept Colette's ecstasy at a terrible peak, her mind frayed by the constant stimulation, and the new sensations of something more afflicting her, slowly invading her mind.

Marion's humping violation began anew, driven into a lustful frenzy. Colette's struggles ceased shortly after, overwhelmed and on the verge of unconsciousness from it all, over sensitive from the intense orgasm she just endured.

Enhanced by the constant teasing of her clit by Marion's feelers, and still locked to her mother's lips by those tendrils from Marion's mouth. But now, the tentacle invading Colette's throat retreated, leaving her to feel the lecherous attention of her mother's tongue.

Under such an unholy assault, she could not endure, and eventually came, arching her back again and spasming as though having an episode.

Moments after, she lost consciousness, eyes rolling upward and going limp beneath Marion.

With her daughter passed out, Marion began to calm, slowing the sensual rocking of her lips, until her feelers released both her daughter's crotch and head.

They all retreated, as did the tentacles, returning from whence they came within Marion's body. She licked her lips and sighed in salacious satisfaction, again arching her back, feeling Colette's shallow breathing against her chest.

She flicked her head to get her hair out of her face, and then swept it back with a hand to neaten it up.

She looked upon her darling daughter, so exhausted, so beautiful, the parasites within already working away to bring Colette enlightenment.

Marion smiled, and leaned close to peck Colette on the lips before pulling away, somewhat reluctantly, to give her daughter a chance to rest, to let those parasites do what they do best and bond with a new host.

And in the back of Marion's mind, she felt It... and It was pleased.

Soon, they'd all be one happy family.

Colette stirred, shivering from newfound sensations that prickled her body. New thoughts, new senses... new presences.

She felt It. The love, the lust, the ambition and the benevolence. She felt... good. Serene and blissful.

And she turned to find her mother sitting on a chair she had pulled out from the kitchen, clothed, but posed suggestively.

Marion smiled.

"Welcome, my lovely girl~ Don't you feel amazing~?" she asked.

Colette looked herself over, tingles arcing across her body.

"I feel... incredible..." Colette remarked, hugging herself tight and shivering, the surge of new sensations putting sparks through her head.

"Mmm, I know~ This is what awaits us all in our embrace with It~"

Colette could understand. She saw how much more beautiful Marion seemed. All those taboos, all those dogmatic morals... things were better within Its love.

Colette was all but overcome with desire, rising from the couch to embrace her mother, but Marion raised a hand, commanding Colette to halt.

"I would love nothing more than to show you even more ecstasy... but Harrod will be home soon. In a few hours, I wager, I think he is running late. It is just enough time for some of the older parasites I implanted in you to be ready for your father... after all, I think you should have the honours~"

Colette blushed madly, placing a hand over her heart.

"Me? But, he's your husband," Colette remarked, not at all opposed to the idea. But as Harrod's wife, Marion deserved to have him first.

"Mmm, and your father~ Don't worry... we'll be one big happy family by the end~"

At that, both mother and daughter laughed with barely contained lust, and Colette was all too eager for Harrod to arrive.

---

The sun was setting by the time Harrod arrived home, tired and more than a little sore from the road.

There were bags beneath his dull green eyes, and his thinning hair did little to hide the furrows of his wrinkles from the weariness.

His middle age wasn't quite as elegant as his wife's, but there were signs he was handsome in his youth. A strong but not overly chiselled jawline, a good build now a little diminished by some middle-aged flab at his gut, healthy skin, though rougher now, and gentle expressions.

He was of average height though, and his musculature wasn't that defined anymore. Still, he carried himself straight and tall, and he was in good health.

He greeted several of the villagers still out and about as things got dark, though he kept the encounters short. He didn't really want to exhaust himself further with small talk. He was, however, eager to say hello to his wife and daughter. It was a bit of a regret that he didn't expect to talk to them long, for he would be in need of a good rest soon enough.

He walked up to his house energetically enough, dusting down his thick travelling cloak, the pale grey garment covering the darker grey pants and beige flax shirt beneath, black leather boots dusty and muddy.

He left them outside, though he rarely walked barefoot inside like his daughter did. He'd be putting on fresh shoes as soon as he could, a pair waiting for him right inside the door.

Few had a second pair just waiting for them. Many only had a single pair of boots.

In that regard alone, Harrod considered himself fortunate fate turned out the way it did for him.

"Marion, I'm home," he called out, placing his coat on a crude rack just inside the door.

There was no response, which was certainly curious.

"Marion?" he repeated.

"She's out right now," came Colette's voice in return.

Out? Odd, at this time of day, it was getting dark outside, night not long off.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" he inquired with a raised voice, Colette somewhere else in the house.

"Soon... and welcome back, father," Colette answered.

Harrod allowed himself a weary smile, and wandered in search of his darling girl.

However, he became bemused when he did not immediately find her, despite heading to where her voice was coming from.

"Colette, where are you?" he called out.

"In the living room," she responded.

That was the first place he checked. She was moving rather silently today. Walking barefoot came with some advantages it seemed.

So, he made his way to the living room... only to gawk and nearly have his jaw hit the floor upon seeing Colette standing there, naked, utterly shameless, grinning at him.

He was too shocked to even be angry.

"Colette!? What is the meaning of this!?" he demanded, sounding entirely perplexed.

"This~? Oh, father, this is just me being a good daughter~" she answered with an entirely obscene tone. "You work so hard for this family, you deserve something in return~"

She started taking steps towards him, Harrod taking a reflexive step back, utterly bewildered.

"What has gotten into you?! Stop this at once!" he demanded, still too stunned to demonstrate any anger.

Colette laughed seductively, playfully, approaching her father with no shame, and terrible intent, licking her lips.

"Something wonderful, that's what~ And I'm going to share it with you~"

"Enough!" Harrod shouted, starting to finally get angry... only to feel another naked body press against his back, arms hook around his and keep them spread either side, as cool breath washed over one of his ears.

"Enough? But we haven't even started~" came the thoroughly alluring voice of his wife, Marion rubbing herself against his back and holding him in place.

"M-Marion!? What are you doing?!" he demanded, feeling her lips pepper kisses and wickedly prolonged licks to his neck.

"Our daughter wishes to show how much she loves you, my husband~ I wouldn't want you trying to stop her now, it'd be rude~"

She cackled and suckled on his earlobe slowly, earning a shuddering gasp from his lips.

Meanwhile, Colette approached Harrod, the man starting to struggle, attempting to extricate himself from Marion's grasp, but she wasn't yielding all that easily.

The next thing he knew, was his own daughter grabbing his privates through his pants, kneading them firmly, sensually, shifting easily to a lecherous rubbing when his penis began to stir, no matter how much he was willing it to stay soft. He couldn't get hard, not from his own daughter!

But between her and Marion, he was outmatched. There was something wrong with them, clearly, but he had no idea what.

Worse, Colette leaned close to kiss him, her lips sealing to his and attempting to push her tongue into his mouth. He refused, but suppressing the need to gasp thanks to her steadily escalating groping proved a difficult task to say the least.

Nor could he try and shout at the top of his lungs to call for help. Their home was a little bit away from the rest of the village. Not isolated, but with the walls the house was built with, it was unlikely anyone would hear anything.

And if he did, Colette would silence him for sure.

Alas, his defiance was ultimately pointless; for a while, Colette contented herself with kissing her father and stroking the outline of his bulge, cupping the elongated tent at his crotch in her palm. She pinched it, thumb and index finger stroking the outline firmly, precisely, further goading vigour into the traitorous cock.

But when she slipped her hand beneath his pants, those fingers lithe and dexterous, and gripped his dick, curling palm and digits around his girth, he gasped... allowing Colette to slip her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned, and tried to shake her off, but Marion's head being where it was made things difficult, and Colette wasn't so easily dissuaded, her tongue caressing his own.

Her saliva seemed oddly sweet, and she was making sure to lather as much of it as possible into his tastebuds.

Marion crooned and chuckled in delight, happy to see her daughter commit this taboo with their father.

Colette murmured herself, stroking Harrod's dick with unexpected skill and expertise, rubbing her thumb to the back of his helm, circling rubs to his frenulum making him flinch.

The first bead of precum sent a spike of dismay through his mind; this was getting worse, and he was no closer to breaking free of Marion.

Part of him didn't want to hurt his family, but they were not themselves.

He squirmed some more, to no avail, until Colette broke the kiss with a parting curl against his upper lip.

"Colette, stop this, now!" he demanded, but his voice sounded more pleading than not.

"Before you've even gotten off~? You raised me to be a good person, didn't you~?" Colette teased.

"I didn't raise you to be... be... this!" he shot back, trying to find the words.

"What 'this' is... is enlightenment~" Marion crooned, curling her tongue again at his ear. "Colette, show him~"

Colette smiled, and stepped back, though she still maintained her stroking grip on Harrod's dick.

And with pure horror, he watched as she opened her mouth... and several unnatural tendrils snaked their way past her lips, waving about as if searching for prey.

The blood in his veins chilled. He blanched, and felt his words fail him.

The feelers retreated into Colette's mouth, and she licked her lips.

"When we're done with you, you'll understand~ But first... we have missed you so much~ I have missed you... let me show you what a good daughter I am~"

She giggled in a way both utterly alien for Colette, and entirely too familiar, the kind of playful laugh she made when she found something funny, twisted with unwholesome lust.

Colette knelt before her father, and pulled down his pants until they were down by his knees, exposing his crotch fully. His cock treacherously bounced free, bobbing with eager need he rarely felt. But even though it was his own damned daughter, even though his libido was never strong for him, no matter how much he willed it, his cock wouldn't soften.

And feeling Colette's tongue curl so slowly and firmly along the underside of his rod, leaving behind a brush stroke of saliva, her head tilted back so he could see how her tongue folded from her lick, did little to help him squash his arousal.

"Nnnuh... Colette, you must stop this," he tried again, Harrod desperate to escape this depravity, but Marion resisted his struggles, and Colette's licking was sapping his resolve. Her slender muscle was precise, tracing the edge of his corona, curling up beneath that brim, digging into the tender flesh were foreskin attached to his mast. She slipped her tongue around, lips brushing the slope of his glans as her muscle curled and waggled at his frenulum, making him groan. After a few agonising moments of that, she gave the same to a spot just below his urethra on his helm, earning more whimpers from him.

Harrod was dismayed to see and feel precum bead from his tip, quickly lapped up by Colette's flickering muscle.

She applied more licks to his mast, giving his glans a reprieve, sinking down through his bush until she found his balls, and subjected them to the same kind of relentless licking.

And once she had them thoroughly polished, her lips wrapped around both of his orbs, Colette sucking them into her mouth. She tugged on them hungrily, quiet, wet smacks reaching his ears, one of which was constantly teased by Marion's own oral efforts.

Harrod groaned, his cock bouncing eagerly as his daughter plied it with obscene licks, leaving his balls alone to return to his shaft.

And now, she went further, taking his member into her mouth halfway, and bobbing back until her lips caught on the brim of his glans.

As Colette fellated her father, Marion murmured wickedly, laughing into Harrod's ear.

"Doesn't she feel amazing~? She was so eager to show you how good she could make you feel... all these new talents to bring us together~ But it's not just her, you know... I too want to show you pleasures you never considered~ So, my love, do be still~"

Marion pulled Harrod's arms up above his head... and kicked up a roll of rope she had kept behind her.

Pinning Harrod's wrists together in one hand, she threw the rope over one of the rafters on the ceiling, and then quickly tied Harrod's wrists, held above his head and keeping him on his feet.

He attempted to struggle, but now that she didn't need to constrain his arms, Marion's hands started roaming across his body, an invasive caress across his sides and his chest, her lips sucking against the back of his neck.

He felt her hands go down to his gut, and then back up his body, fingertips curling and gently raking along his body until she found his cheeks, cupping them.

She rose to her feet, and placed her lips right next to his ears.

"We're going to show you something wonderful, darling~ It will be my atonement for what I've done to you~"

She kissed him then, on the cheek. It was so loving, so tender, he almost didn't believe it was the same woman assisting his daughter in raping him.

Then he felt her crouch down behind him, tongue slipping across one of his glutes. Her hands came to his hips, and then sensually moved across his ass, fondling them, kneading them, splaying them apart.

Harrod tugged on the rope above him, but his desperation wasn't enough to undo the tightly woven knot.

He tried to jerk his hips away from them, but their hands kept him in place, and going back or forward just worsened his situation, as he either pushed into his daughter's mouth, or against his wife's lips.

And as always, there was room for escalation... Marion drooling something thick and viscous down into the crack of his ass, as feelers emerged and lathered it across his pucker. It didn't feel like saliva, it was too thick, and a tingling sensation soon followed, along with a feeling of freshness, at least on his back door.

Leaving Marion to lean in close, splay apart his glutes... and curl her tongue against his sphincter.

He jerked his hips forward, the unexpected sensitivity catching him off guard.

"What are you doing!? That's filthy!" he spat, but Marion simply giggled.

"I've already taken the necessary precautions~" she answered cryptically, and curled her tongue against his back door once again, tracing the slick, sensitive ring of muscle, drawing meek groans from Harrod's lips.

Colette, meanwhile, had taken him to the hilt by this point, and was occasionally slipping her tongue out from her lower lip to tease his balls, fondling them and polishing them before returning to her steadily quickening fellatio. Though she always took the opportunity to stop and wrap her lips tight around either his helm or his root, and let her tongue lash his glans or lap at his balls respectively.

More precum oozed from Harrod now, Colette quick to lap up the leakage.

His attention was taken away from Colette's effort with a sudden, startled yell escaping him; feelers from Marion were squeezing into his ass!

His eyes widened, and he all but tried to jump away from Marion as this was happening, feeling those small tendrils stretch him a little, lathering his passage in more of that viscous substance.

They pushed deep, terribly deep... but just as suddenly as they invaded, they retreated.

Allowing Marion to immediately after push her tongue into his ass and start kissing and sucking with an almost ravenous hunger.

This was wrong! How could Marion degrade herself like this?!

Yet neither she nor Colette seemed all that perturbed, murmuring in wicked delight and sending tingling vibrations thrumming right into his sensitive musculature.

Marion's tongue retreated every now and then to curl and circle his pucker, the ring of muscle entirely too sensitive now.

He could feel a rising orgasm, an ejaculatory pressure building in his loins, spurred on by Colette's efforts, but that wicked stimulation on Marion's account was only aiding things.

And then... it got worse. When he felt Colette's feelers emerge from her throat as her lips released his cock... but those tendrils continued, coiling their slimy, finger-thin lengths around his girth, wasting no time in stroking and tracing, the tips of a few outlining his veins and other contours.

They kept going until they ensnared his balls, subjecting them to a similar kind of fondling.

This alien pleasure was met with widened eyes from Harrod, who could do nothing but stare in utter incredulity and dismay... and endure the wicked stimulation it brought.

And shortly after, he felt Marion's feelers return, teasing at his back door... and then squeezing into it, pushing deep.

But unlike Colette's tendrils, they didn't just explore as disparate limbs tracing different contours, stroking different spots; several entwined around each other to form a singular, thicker appendage, worming its way deeper, pushing against his walls... as though searching for something.

He soon learned what, as the gestalt tentacle pushed against something in his muscle, between his ass and his gut. And sent a strange, pleasant sensation racing up his spine.

His cock bounced powerfully in Colette's tendrils, a thick dollop of precum quickly beading on his tip the more that organ in his rear was teased.

An entirely shameless moan escaped Harrod, the new feelings Marion was inflicting on him impossible to ignore.

And Colette capitalised, sending her lips to his root, even as her feelers stroked his cock and kneaded his jewels.

Marion's tongue returned to curling at his sphincter or stirring up the entrance of his rear.

And the combined murmurs from the both of them only made Harrod feel even more stimulated. An explosive orgasm was building now, his cock throbbing in Colette's mouth and his balls jumping and contracting in the grip of the feelers.

He couldn't help twisting and jerking his hips, out of pure stimulated reflex, but that didn't do anything but worsen his situation, either thrusting into Colette's throat, or pushing against that worming gestalt appendage stimulating that organ in his rear that made him feel so much more sensitive.

He moaned and whimpered, pleasure overwhelming in his fairly low libido mind.

He tugged on the restraints at his wrists, but the rope wasn't loosening, and those rafters were made of good, solid wood, polished and treated.

He was trapped between his unholy wife and daughter, whatever had changed them granting them truly erotic talents.

And as a result, Harrod could not withstand their efforts; with a loud, defeated and dismayed moan, he bucked into his daughter's mouth, releasing the biggest load he'd ever had in his life.

Not even Marion had received a load so big as this before, and this was all for his daughter.

Shame mixed with the ecstasy, feeling he'd committed a mortal sin, but it was not his fault. Something had possessed Marion and Colette.

Unfortunately, whatever it was, it didn't seem satisfied with Harrod's one orgasm, which his wife and daughter were intent on milking for as long as possible, Harrod starting to thrash from the post-orgasmic stimulation, Marion's feelers continuously massaging that organ in his rear with plunging motions, and Colette latching onto his root and sucking harshly, like a leech out for something other than his blood.

Only when he was on the verge of crying did they relent; Colette slipped her lips off his cock, her feelers retreating, and Marion pulled out of his ass.

He went slack, supported only by the rope that hung him from the rafters by his wrists, groaning weakly. Unfortunately, his cock still bobbed eagerly, not quite spent.

A veritable cocktail of emotions swirled in Harrod's mind; shame, arousal, disbelief, fear, confusion, lust... he'd never had a more stimulating orgasm in his life, and yet the circumstances were the most terrifying he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

And respite did not seem to be in the cards for him, as Colette and Marion stood up, trailing licks and kisses along his body, pulling up his shirt to expose his bare skin.

He winced when Colette sucked one of his nipples into her mouth, sucking hungrily and tugging on the subtle flab of his chest, switching to his other nipple to curl and flick the nub with her tongue.

Meanwhile, Marion's hands found his wrists, and slowly loosened the knot that bound them.

For a terrible moment, he felt himself fall. His collapse was arrested by Marion, who laid him out on the floor.

His arms were free now, but he lacked the strength to resist his twisted family, Colette immediately tugging off his pants and shoes, Marion removing his shirt until he was as naked as they were.

His daughter straddled his waist, and pushed her rump up against his cock, slotting it between her glutes.

She was unbelievably wet, leaking arousal right onto his belly. Meanwhile, Marion moved to lay his head on her thighs, giving him a modicum of comfort as he laid on the floor.

She held onto his elbows, denying him any chance of resistance. Leaving Colette to slowly grind her rear against his cock, stroking the length, still slick with his discharge and her saliva, with small rocking motions of her hips.

"You taste delicious, father~" Colette praised, a twisted sound that deeply unsettled poor Harrod.

"Do you hear her, darling~? You already have so much to give, and soon you will have even more~" Marion crooned, stroking his hair.

"Colette... Marion... no... stop," he whimpered, but it fell on deaf ears as Marion's hands slip moved away from his arms to tease his nipples.

Any attempt at resistance, and she grabbed his limbs again, before returning to teasing him.

While Colette decided to break her father further, rising up his mast.

And teasing his glans with a 'kiss' from her labia, the petals splaying either side of his helm, small gyrations working her arousal into his tip and sensitising it.

He couldn't believe it... Colette, his own daughter, was going to rape him. Not with her mouth, or her hand, but with her womanhood.

It defied belief, but her teasing was not that of an inexperienced girl; it was sensual, erotic, possessing a salacious grace that she surely didn't possess before.

Whatever had taken over them must have been doing it. And yet, for all the atypical words that came out of their mouth, they still sounded so terribly like them.

He tried to tug his hips away from Colette, but she giggled and grasped them, like holding onto a struggling farm animal.

More fluids seeped down his shaft from her sex, her arousal obscene... and then, she dropped.

It wasn't fast, but it was smooth, slick, her walls clenching as his cock impaled her, her moan lengthening and haunting Harrod's ears, Colette shivering as she took her own father's cock inside her.

She savoured every second of the descent, clenching tightly around his girth until she was resting on Harrod's crotch, pliant rump compressing to his hips, her calves and thighs on either side of him. A shudder raced through her, a tittering sigh forcing its way through clenched teeth.

And Harrod couldn't stop himself throbbing inside of her, Marion caressing his head when she had an opportunity.

"You feel so good, father..." Colette breathed out.

"I know, Colette~ It's a shame he had such little desire to use it. Despite myself, I could not suppress my desires, and I met another man in secret," she revealed. Harrod didn't even know where to begin with that revelation.

And then Marion looked down at him with a smile equal parts loving and lustful. "But now I will be able to atone for that sin~ All of us will be together in Its embrace~"

Before Harrod could even question what 'it' was, Colette started to grind against his crotch, rolling her hips back and forth, smearing her arousal across his groin and stirring his member up inside her tightly clenching walls.

She was so terribly tight, her contours tugging on his member with her flexing movements, his bush and jewels soaking in her arousal.

To his dismay and shame, he found himself entranced by the flexible movements of her waist, twisting and bending like an exotic dancer.

And this hypnotic motion was only exacerbated by her grinding in opposite directions, rocking side to side and back and forth. Gyrating her hips, making rolling motions, rhythmically clenching her walls to stroke his cock.

Harrod groaned beneath her, a noise far less salacious than the soft moans that issued from his daughter's lips.

"You feel so good~!" she repeated.

Gods, her grinding was so good, Harrod fear he'd cum just from those efforts alone. He had to stop her. This was too much, he couldn't allow her to do this.

Marion had released his arms to stroke his head, so he attempted to push Colette off him... only for Colette to grab his wrists, and bring his arms to her chest.

"Feel them, father~ Aren't they nice~?"

She giggled, giving him that rare sassy look of hers, giggling like she did when she got animated.

The disinterest was nowhere to be seen, but this behaviour was familiar to Harrod. Only now, it'd been exaggerated, overtaken by an unnatural lust for him.

He tried to pull his hands away, eyes widening as he felt Colette's modest breasts beneath his hands, perky and resisting the pressure she made his hands exert upon them.

He tried harder to escape her grip, but she again defied him, starting to rise and fall with wicked, fluid motions, stirring up his dick from her rising and falling motions, rolling her hips back and forth.

Her moans got even more heated, even more wicked and erotic. She licked her lips, grinning at Harrod and slowly picking up speed. Her pert rump began to lightly clap against his crotch, a wet edge to the noise with how slick she was.

"Ffffuuuuuck, this is so good~!" Colette exclaimed, making Marion laugh.

"Oh, I will be making up for lost time once you're done with him~ Once we've shown him the way~" Marion added.

"Colette... Marion... please, I beg of you... it's not too late. Let me help you," he implored, trying to reason with them. But they wouldn't see it, Marion stroking his lips with a fingertip.

"Let us help you, my dear~ When you join Its embrace, you'll understand~"

She laughed wickedly and with love, a twisted mixture that made Harrod moan fearfully.

Colette was starting to pick up speed now, but as with her oral, she occasionally paused to return to that salacious grinding, sometimes rocking her hips far enough, Harrod could feel her clit prodding his belly.

Precum leaked inside her, an orgasm was rising inside him. Every contraction of his balls a count towards a most terrible deed.

And then, he felt a shift. He watched as Colette leaned down over him, forcing his hands off her breasts and to his sides. Marion held onto his head, so he could not escape Colette laying atop him, still humping away as her lips met his.

It was a firm, sloppy kiss, Colette murmuring the entire time. And just as quickly as it started, it ended, Colette pulling back slightly.

Just enough for Harrod to see her smile, lick her lips, and summon a dozen tendrils from her throat, and move to seal her lips to his once more, a thicker tentacle sliding over her outstretched tongue.

He didn't even get a scream off before those feelers wrapped around his head, and Colette's lips attached to his mouth, that slimy tentacle gliding over her tongue, and curling into his throat, making him gag.

His eyes widened, and he was screaming now, but it was muffled. All the same, his fear was audible to anyone within the room. Unfortunately, the only others were unperturbed and continued their horrific, lecherous assault, Colette continuing to ride her father while he writhed beneath her.

Her lips tugged, sucked, and meshed with his, and she moaned, eyes rolling back, as something was squeezed through that tentacle.

She shuddered vigorously, a surge of fluids from her pussy inundating his cock. A small orgasm, it could've been nothing else.

But she was implanting something inside of him. And Harrod couldn't stop her, tears forming in his bulging, fearful eyes... but pleasure was never far away, and feeling something squirming down his gullet into his belly still did nothing to stop his arousal.

She pulled away suddenly, her tentacle and feelers retreating back into her mouth, her kiss ending sloppily. She licked Harrod's lips, and sat back up... and started bouncing madly upon his dick.

Harrod cried out in desperate fear and pleasure, gagging a little from the lingering sensation of that tentacle in his throat.

Only to feel his head move as Marion repositioned, taking him off her thighs... and placing him beneath her rump, using her calves as cushion, squashing him between them, and her voluptuous cheeks, her pussy pressing against his mouth.

She was as sodden as Colette was, and just as obscene, grinding her hips and smothering her husband with those squishy glutes, and grinding her vulva to his mouth. Her hair had thinned, so little was in the way of this act.

Sometimes he felt her firm clitoris prod his lips. But there was more than that going on. His ears weren't quite smothered by his wife's curvy legs, and he could hear the moans of his daughter mixing with Marion's.

He heard something else as well, when Marion leaned forward; a wet smacking, and muffled murmurs of pleasure.

Even with his vision almost entirely overwhelmed by fatty ass flesh, he knew what Marion and Colette were doing; they were kissing each other. Wetly, salaciously, from the sounds of things, exploring each other's mouth with obscene abandon.

They were beyond depraved. Harrod feared there was no saving them.

And no saving him, when he felt feelers from both Colette's pussy and Marion's descend upon him. Those from his daughter split into three groups, one wrapping around his waist to ensure there was no escape, another moving down to ensnare his balls and stroke them wickedly, and the last coiling around his shaft and worming up and down, stroking and teasing every sensitive spot on his mast, attacking his glans in particular.

To say it got him throbbing on the verge of climax was an understatement, leaking precum profusely into her pussy.

And Marion's tendrils wrapped around his head for the most part, keeping him from pulling out, not that her legs and ass didn't do a stellar job of that.

But Marion wasn't trying to stimulate him... a tentacle from her depths began slithering into his mouth.

He attempted to clench his jaws shut, but some of the tendrils kept his mouth pried open just long enough for that thicker organ to push into his throat, at which point there was nothing he could do to stop it, the appendage too muscular and squishy to bite down on.

And like with Colette's kiss, he felt contractions in that tentacle force something into his body, along with a flood of viscous, sweet-tasting fluids, so much of it secreted on his tongue.

And all the while, Marion was still rocking her hips and grinding her vulva to his mouth, moaning loudly into her daughter's kiss.

Harrod felt utterly defeated, overwhelmed with so much lust and burgeoning alien feelings in his body, the shame felt distant... and his climax almost upon him.

After a few more bounces, he committed his gravest sin... and cried out into Marion's pussy, thrusting into Colette's.

He came inside his daughter, a vigorous torrent of seed milked out of him by relentlessly stroking tendrils, eager to draw out every drop, to drain him dry.

He shuddered beneath his wife and daughter, completely unable to resist their advances, their wicked, terrible lust.

His mind was overwhelmed, and he started whimpering when Colette started moving again, giving him no reprieve and drowning him in post-orgasmic overstimulation.

His mind was also descending into a bizarre haze, an exhaustion overcoming him. Feelings of pleasure were building to intolerable peaks, radiating out from his gut, his nerves alight with unnatural sensations.

Both Colette and Marion were grinding hard upon his body, their muffled moans reaching a fevered pitch as they continued their terrible assault.

When it all hit a peak, Harrod cried out in a strangled manner, and came again, flooding Colette's tentacled womb with his seed.

And both wife and daughter spasmed atop him, groaning in wicked euphoria as they flooded Harrod's face and crotch with their ecstasy, shuddering endlessly.

Not long after, Harrod could stand no more, and passed out, going limp beneath them.

And with that, the Folsom Family had been claimed.

---

Marion and Colette cuddled each other, Harrod draped on the couch to rest as his parasites took hold of him. Mother and Daughter kissed, tongues mingling, the tendrils from their womanhoods intertwining together and teasing each other's clit.

Soft moans flowed between them, and then the kiss broke.

"I've never been happier~" Colette remarked, sucking on her mother's lower lip, and then one of Marion's nipples.

Marion laughed softly, and stroked her daughter's head affectionately.

"We have to share this happiness with everyone~ Carefully... we took a risk not infesting Harrod straight away~ But it has paid off, hasn't it~?"

"Absolutely~" Colette giggled.

Marion was so happy, this was the most animated she'd seen her daughter in a while. It was delightful to see. She was still that same lovely girl, just now, she had a renewed energy for life.

"It offers us so much, and asks so little," Marion continued. "But It is running out of time. It suspects the priest knows something. We will have to take the village soon. When we have, we will be free to spread Its gift from a position of strength~"

"Mmm, I can't wait~" Colette purred, kissing her mother's neck, receiving a grope to her rump in return.

They heard a groaning noise, and looked over to the couch; Harrod was stirring.

They looked at each other excitedly, and extricated themselves from each other, making their way over to Harrod, sitting either side of him.

His eyes fluttered open, and groggily looked around him. He quickly seemed to brighten, and then glanced between Colette and Marion, smiling.

"My lovely girl... my dear wife... I feel incredible~" he remarked, as they pressed either side of him. They kissed him on a cheek each, and he shivered.

"I'm sorry for my affair with Jaque... but now we can make amends~" Marion remarked, licking his neck.

"I can see why you did it... It's told me so much~ I thank you so much for this~"

His wife and daughter crooned happily as they gently stroked his thighs.

"We can be closer than ever now~" Colette remarked, nibbling an earlobe.

"Yes... all of us~ All of Donstorf will be together in Its embrace~" Harrod proclaimed.

But his lips twisted into an unwholesome grin, glancing at his wife and daughter, hands sliding behind them and wrapping around their backs to grope their breasts from the opposite sides.

"But you remain my world~ Everything, for you~"

Colette and Marion murmured happily as he fondled them, toying with their nipples, flicking the buds gently with fingertips... as his cock began to rise in earnest.

Both Marion and Colette noticed, and pinned their lower lips seductively, hands drifting across Harrod's thighs to smoothly and lewdly wrap around his mast, starting to slowly pump the throbbing rod. Precum oozed already, lubrication for their convenience.

"We can make up for lost time later, honey~" Marion said, kissing Harrod on the lips.

"Mmm, because right now, we're a family~" Colette remarked playfully, laughing as she pecked her father on the mouth too.

And Harrod continued to knead his family's breasts as he licked his lips.

"I do enjoy spending time with my family~"

The three of them descended into a fit of chuckling and debauchery.