Purebred

Purebred

****

I: The Last Of Their Kind.

Tara Bradley couldn't believe what she was about to do as she nervously tapped her steering wheel. She hadn't seen her father since her mother's funeral ten years ago, and that had been the one and only time since she'd left home eight years prior.

18 years now since she'd last driven this desolate rural road. It had been unpaved when she was a child, a dusty, noisy, bumpy barrier between 'home' and the rest of the world.

Now its faded blacktop, still barely two lanes wide, was the only hint of modernity and Tara found everything else about the wild Florida landscape uncomfortably familiar.

A shiver crept up Tara's spine as a nearly forgotten sense of isolation and danger pulsed through her veins anew. This land continued to resist the terraformed world that increasingly surrounded it. It remained unfettered by man and modernity, unchanged by time. Uncaring and unsympathetic.

That anyone had hacked through it, let alone tamed it enough to settle in it's midst, still seemed amazing and... unnatural.

Cooper Bradley studied the passing landscape out of his passenger window, there was little indication the road saw much use. Utility poles and an occasional moldering political sign were all that broke up the wild, heavy overgrowth. "I can't believe this is only 25 miles away," the 18-year-old observed, comparing the isolated rural area to their big city home, its downtown skyline still visible in their rearview.

"Might as well have been a thousand miles when I was your age," his mother observed.

Stopping the car at a dirt driveway, a weathered, nondescript mailbox proclaiming 22 Lake Ranch Road, Tara announced flatly, "This is it."

Cooper sensed his mother's stress as she sucked in a breath and turned the wheel. He wasn't sure what to expect as their car left the uniform hum of asphalt for the erratic crunch of the limestone drive that cut through wild Florida palms and moss-laden oaks.

The teenager's imagination was overcompensating as even with the car well sealed and the air conditioning blowing near high, he could still make out a chattering high pitched din as the heat and insects and wildlife combined to provide an audible warning of the dangers lurking within the dense, subtropical woods.

Minutes later the son felt his mother suck in another big breath as the car cleared the brush.

Before them lay a compound of sorts. A large, lush green lawn acted as a buffer from the wild flora before giving way to a wide, sprawling, art-deco style home. Dated, but very well maintained, it featured a towering fountain at the apex of a large circular driveway. Several newer houses flanked each side of the main house, also well maintained. Dotting the lakefront were several modular homes, not the old-school oversized metal shed mobile home types, but the modern, vaguely Scandinavian kind, each multiple levels with porches and rooftop decks.

Cooper saw more of the same, perhaps two dozen homes in total, scattered amongst the acres of towering oaks as the teen took in the full breadth of the vast lakefront property.

All the homes appeared well kept and well appointed, attentively landscaped and surrounded by nice vehicles, ATVs, and golf carts.

It was all much nicer than what he'd expected. His mother's few unkind descriptions had him prepared for something far more backwoods and rundown.

"You okay?" Cooper asked, seeing his mother's hesitation.

"Yeah. Let's get this over with," Tara grumbled.

Tara followed the almost blindingly white drive, the crunch of the phosphate, limestone and seashell hard pack announcing the approaching vehicle like a prehistoric sentry system.

Tara parked her 11 year old Ford Explorer between a bright red classic Corvette and a new, highly polished GMC Sierra Denali pick-up, nearly wincing at Cooper's impressed, "Whoa." She could already feel the pull of the place on her son and they hadn't even gotten out of the car.

The mother hated herself for giving in. She'd fought so hard for nearly two decades to avoid ever coming back, yet here she was, and worse yet, she'd brought her newly adult son with her.

-- --

It had been almost nineteen years, half her life, since Tara Bradley had last stepped foot on 'The Property.'

Most had their own names for it. Amongst family it had alternately been referred to as The Compound, The Camp, The Park, The Playground, or most often just Bradley Beach.

Strangers liked to defame it with arch, demeaning characterizations of backwoods yokel-dom or sex cult Satanism. Many simply referred to it as Lake Raunch.

During ceremony the Bradley's called it The Temple.

To teenaged Tara Bradley, it had been both Heaven, and Hell.

At 19, Tara had done what she needed to leave her childhood home behind. As a pregnant teenager there were a lot of days, and especially nights, that made her question her decision. In many ways the city was colder and harder, but at least it promised a future of one's own making, and Tara had fought very hard for her future and that of her son.

By most metrics Tara had succeeded. She had a nursing degree, a career, a home and a car, and lived in a vibrant, culturally relevant city. Yet there remained the scars of her youth to remind her of her struggles whenever she got too comfortable.

Her mother's death had been the first time she'd had to face her father after leaving. Entering the funeral home, Tara had been surprised by the warm welcome of her extended family; most of whom she'd had little to no contact with since leaving.

Tara had also been surprised how much her father had aged in only eight years. He looked closer to her mother's 63 years, than his own 45. Gone was the young, tanned, hard bodied wildman with chiseled features who was never still or quiet, in his place was a softer, seemingly gentler version of the man she'd called Dad as a child, and then in spite, once she was a teenager, often simply, Ron.

Her half-siblings, and various degrees of cousins, aunts, and uncles all assured Tara her father had changed. How her leaving and now her mother's death had forced him to mature beyond the seemingly forever-youthful hell-raising hedonist he had been.

Tara was torn, but resolute, as her father approached her that day. Though surprised by the tears in his eyes, the warmth of his greeting, and the gentleness of his words, she remained cold and distant.

She'd fallen for his pleas for forgiveness countless times before.

Always sorry, always promising things would be different, her father had also always fallen quickly back into drinking and smoking and pill popping and all the other things those vices inevitably led to.

Despite a primal, instinctive, inbred desire to want to believe her father had changed, to believe he was capable and worthy of her forgiveness, that he could be the true father that she had always wanted and needed, Tara Bradley was guarded and short and curt with him that day. She made the rounds amongst her family, but then kept her distance through the service and burial.

And then she forced herself from their orbit once again as she drove off from the cemetery, swearing it was the last time. Swearing it was forever.

Yet, here 37-year-old Tara Bradley was, back at 'Bradley Beach,' walking up to her father's house, the home she grew up in, her 18-year-old son in tow.

Tara cursed her short khaki skirt, berating herself for not wearing jeans. But the mid July Florida heat was simply too intense for long pants of any kind.

Tara chastised herself for letting 'this place' get to her. She was an adult professional woman. The amount of skin she showed had no bearing on her reason for being here. She would have been perfectly comfortable anywhere else in the short skirt, tank top, and sandals she wore. This place held no sway over her any longer she reminded herself.

Yet the young mother bit her lip, knowing that wasn't true - she felt it, again, after all these years. As if it was only yesterday that she had left.

Hating herself for not only being there, but for her reaction to the memories that were flooding over her, Tara shivered despite the oppressive heat.

She'd buried her feelings for so long, only allowing the bad times to surface whenever she needed motivation to remind her what she was working and struggling to overcome.

But now all the other feelings were suddenly bubbling up. The ones she'd tried so hard to ignore for 18 years. The ones that made her doubt having left. The ones she secretly masturbated to when nothing else would make her orgasm.

"What's the matter," she heard her son ask as she shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts and force the naughty memories from her mind.

"Nothing." Tara forced a smile as she reached to push the doorbell button only to see the door open first.

A 50s-ish man; trim, fit, tanned, long gray-blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, stood smiling wearing flip flops, board shorts and a t-shirt. "Cupcake," Ron Bradley exclaimed, bright white teeth bared in an easy, excited smile.

"Daddy," Tara Bradley responded, her voice cracking.

****

Interlude: Climax In Black.

Driving away from her mother's burial, 27-year-old Tara Bradley wiped tears from her eyes and swore it was the last time she would ever see her family. She swore if her father died tomorrow or next week or decades in the future, she would not allow herself the closure of attending his funeral.

As she arrived at her apartment she texted the babysitter, ensuring the girl could keep 8-year-old Cooper for another couple of hours. Tara needed the time alone. Needed to process the day's events and file them away with the rest of her past.

Stripping off her black dress and pantyhose, the young mother couldn't help admire her figure in the mirror. 12 hour shifts as a nurse kept her slim and fit. And despite the years of hardship and struggle, not to mention teen childbirth, Tara still radiated the bloom of youth. She took after her mother that way, she gratefully acknowledged with a grin tinged with sadness.

Her eyes filled with tears once again thinking of her mother being gone already at just 63 from an aneurism.

Tara had always marveled at her mother's youthfulness and svelte figure growing up. She'd been her mother's fifth child, but her father's first. The age difference between her parents was hard enough to explain to friends at school growing up, let alone who was who's sibling or half-sibling, or cousin, aunt, or uncle.

The family had a hard enough time keeping it straight amongst themselves.

The thought surprisingly made Tara smile and she acknowledged there was a part of her that felt glad to see her family healthy and happy. Glad that the part of her that had wished them ill will hadn't metastasized into terminal resentment.

There was also a small part of her that questioned her decision for the first time in several years. What if she'd stayed? What if she'd accepted her roll as next in line? What would her life be like if she had become Deo?

Tara bit her lip as those feelings welled up inside her. She made a mental bargain with herself that she would allow herself to indulge them, but only as a distraction from the pain of the loss of her mother after years of not speaking.

She needed to feel something else, something good, and an orgasm would suffice, the horny mother concluded.

It had been weeks since her last date with Dr. Jackson, the pediatrician. He was nice, handsome, and made a comfortable salary. But like her other prospective boyfriends over the years, he wasn't as sexually... adventurous... as Tara wished.

Tara tried with all her partners, tried to encourage them, tried to get them to loosen up. She dropped hints, innuendo. She dressed up. She bought porn.

It wasn't that the sex wasn't good, it often was. The issue wasn't what it was, but what it wasn't. It wasn't what she wanted. Wasn't what she'd had. Wasn't what she was trying to recreate. Wasn't what she missed - missed more with each passing year.

Though older and seemingly more mature, the sight of her father had given Tara Bradley pause. Even in the funeral home, dressed to mourn and surrounded by sadness, the 27-year-old daughter could feel her father and remember his touch.

Even as she sat as far from her father as possible during the service, she could feel his hands slide up her body as they grabbed and pinched, she felt his warm wet lips as he kissed and suckled her flesh, and felt his hard cock as it pushed into each of her holes, one after the other, again and again.

As Tara sat in the back of the chapel, tears filled her eyes, though not for her mother's passing, but instead for the pleasure she was experiencing remembering her father's touch and smell, and taste.

Tara had struggled with those memories often, but in the funeral home - in the presence of her father again after so long - they nearly overwhelmed her. Then, alone in her bedroom with the rare privacy of her son not being home, the horny mother was beside herself and reluctantly gave into her need, allowing herself to become the horny daughter once more.

"One last time," she made her usual empty promise to herself as she lay naked in bed, running her hands over her body, teasing herself until she could no longer resist sliding two fingers through the wet, heated lips between her spread wide thighs, before finally pushing them inside herself with a tortured, guttural, taboo-laden moan, "Daddyyyyy."

****

II: Through The Gates.

Tara Bradley forced a smile at her father as he stood aside and let she and Cooper into the house.

"Cooper, this is your... grandfather. Ronald Bradley, the fourth."

Ron seemed surprised by the formality and inclusion of 'the fourth,' and after making an amused face, he chuckled and shook the teenager's hand, "Just Ron, please. I'm really happy to finally meet you, Cooper."

Tara watched her father; he was gregarious and slightly awkward, yet genuine and still charming in his old familiar way. The daughter also noticed her father had seemingly aged less in the past ten years since her mother's funeral than the previous eight. He was tan and fit. And happy. But not in the wired, inebriated way he used to be. He was relaxed, casual, light, letting the moment come to him, instead of forcing himself upon it.

"I'm not really sure where to start," Ron offered, stepping into a large sunken living room off the entry foyer. "I can show you around, or you can meet everyone," he said, waving an arm to the wall of glass sliders and the backyard beyond filed with around three dozen family members, all dressed casually as they drank around the built in kitchen to one side or lounged around the pool to the other.

A circular patio with massive stone pillars and benches surrounding an imposing center table dominated the center of the yard. It was impossible to ignore and impossible to square with it's surroundings. It's sheer size, combined with its very un-Florida like elements and slightly sinister design made it seem unworldly, like something placed here by an unknown force or people.

The teenager stood staring, senses tingling, mind alight. A part of him was tempted to laugh at the absurdity of such a structure in such a setting, but Cooper Bradley sensed a serious purpose and quickly decided he'd dare not belittle its existence.

It was all a lot to take in, but the temple like stone structure dominated his attention with a severe, intense attraction.

Tara gave her father a look and watched as he nodded and offered, "How about introductions first, then your mom and I can talk."

Cooper Bradley felt the world come back to him with his grandfather's words and realized he'd been in a daze. He'd never imagined what he was witnessing. He'd been prepared for his extended family to be backwoods swamp people. Awkward hillbillies with missing teeth and limited vocabularies living in disrepair, eking out an impoverished existence.

Instead he found friendly, attractive, healthy, kind people living prosperously and comfortably and who welcomed him with smiles, handshakes, hugs, and good-natured jokes about his looks and long absence despite living less than an hour away.

As he met his cousins and aunts and uncles, he felt a growing contempt for his mother. Why had she kept this from him? Denied him this kinship?

Tara did her best to put on a happy face for her son. It wasn't even that she didn't enjoy seeing her family, she just didn't want to be there. Not for any reason, but especially not because she needed her father's help.

"Will you be okay, while your grandfather and I talk?" Tara inquired, emphasizing the word 'grandfather' for those in earshot, before accepting her son's assurance and looking to her father, who simply nodded and led the way inside, before asking, "Office okay?"

Tara quickly felt overwhelmed once in her father's home office. The combination of being alone with the man again after two decades, the sound of the door latching, and the unchanged (so old it was retro) interior, unleashed a flood of memories and made her head swim.

She sat to relieve her lightheadedness, as her father asked if she was okay before sitting behind his desk.

After a period of awkward silence, Ron finally broke the ice, "I'm really glad you called."

Tara blew out a breath. "Because you knew all along eventually I'd need something from you," she asked caustically.

"No. Tara, Cupcake. No... I'm so proud of you. I have been for a long time. At least since... I got my shit together," the father said.

"You do seem different," Tara offered, and watched her father smile proudly. She was angry with herself for complimenting his sobriety. As a mother, Tara had never had the opportunity or means to loose herself for even brief periods, and certainly not as a lifestyle as her father had for so many years.

"I have tried. I think you can see the difference here. It's not like it was. It's not just parties all the time. We're doing well. A lot of your cousin's and nieces and nephews have gone to college. Some moved away. Some moved back. Some have married... outside."

There was hopefulness in her father's voice Tara felt the need to quash immediately.

"I'm not moving back, that's not why I'm here. That can't be part of any deal," the daughter instructed.

"Okay, I wasn't..." Ron trailed off, holding his hands up in supplication.

Tara contemplated getting up and leaving, turning her back on her father once more. She hadn't been prepared to be confronted by this version of her father, the one she'd given up hoping for so long ago. She felt to stay would be to acknowledge his change and that would open the door to what... reconciliation... forgiveness?

Tara was torn. Selfishly she wanted both to hurt the man, but also to forgive him.

The daughter wanted her father to hurt like she had, to feel the sting of having an emotional connection withheld, but she also wanted to believe he had changed.

The mother resisted the urge to flee; she was here for Cooper after all, she reminded herself once again.

After another silent moment, Tara begrudgingly explained, "Covid really threw a wrench in things financially for me..."

Ron listened as his daughter began to explain guardedly. He was very willing to let Tara talk as much or as little as she wanted. It wouldn't alter how much he planned to help, but he was happy to learn as much about his little girl as she was willing to share.

"... I got sick around four months in, that summer of 2020. I was in the ICU for weeks and then recovery for a month. I was one of the lucky ones, but still, it was another four months before I could go back to work. So being out nearly six months on disability, which was only 60% of my base pay, and then with the medical bills, and now the non-stop inflation... I used a lot of my savings and I can't seem to get caught up. It's been all I can do to keep my house and pay my medical bills down. So, long story short, even though Cooper got a scholarship, I don't have money to cover the rest of his college tuition, or expenses."

Ron could see how hard it was for his daughter to open her life up to him. He did his best to simply offer a reassuring smile as he listened.

Tara felt split in half. Part of her wanted to include her father in her life and was relieved to have someone, anyone, she could turn to for help after so many years on her own. The other part of her hated every word that came out of her mouth. That part wanted to tell her dad about how hard it had been. The things she had done to make money, to survive while raising a baby and getting her degree. That part of her needed more from her father than a smile, or fucking money.

Tara steeled herself and announced firmly, "I was hoping you might be in a position to help him. No strings attached." The daughter let the emphasis and qualification hang between her father and herself before further qualifying, "He is your son after all."

Ron smiled, a forlorn smile. He hoped his daughter sensed the weight behind it.

Seeing she had nothing further to add, the father nodded, "Of course. It's why I reached out. I did try to keep out of your life. I assumed that's what you wanted. But, since I got clean, this last decade, I've been trying to keep up with you through what little family hear about or talk with you. It's been easier with Cooper, with him being on the high school baseball team and all. You've been harder. I knew you were a nurse. I didn't know you'd been sick. I'm sorry. I would have helped then if I'd known. I wish I had. Did you have anyone when you were in the hospital?"

He was saying all the right things and it made Tara mad, but not as mad as she thought it should. This wasn't like his promises when she was younger. He wasn't telling her everything would be alright, that he'll change, that things will change. He wasn't gas lighting - he was listening. He was being supportive. It seemed honest. It felt sincere. Damn him.

Against her will, Tara found herself confessing, "No. No relationship. Just some friends from work. One of them took Cooper in while I was in the hospital..."

Tears filled her eyes and Tara hated herself for opening up to her father, reminding herself he hadn't earned it.

But he is trying, a little voice in the back of her mind announced.

"Cupcake, I'm so sorry I messed things up so bad before. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could do it all over again. But, the truth is I was 18 when you were born. We had the same mother; you know what she was like. It's not an excuse. I should have been better. A better father, a better person, a better leader, and a better Sire. It was my responsibility, I just didn't know how. Your grandfather only ever showed me how to be The Sire, and not a very good one," Ron opened himself up to his daughter.

Her father said the word. Sire. It stung her to her core. Their fucked up family and it's fucked up... beliefs and... traditions. Even Tara didn't know what to call it. Even after 18 years outside of it, it still was beyond explanation. It had been her duty to bear children as soon as she turned 18. And eventually, as Deo, her father's child, a pureblood. And it had been her father's duty to sire that child.

Duties that had been passed down through the centuries.

But lust had overridden duty for teenage Tara and her father, and against her mother's wishes that Tara bear one of her brother's or uncle's children first, the father and daughter had excitedly convened Ceremony on the night of her 18th birthday.

Though Ron had practiced this conversation in his head endlessly over the years, he knew words could never be enough, but they were all he had. "I've tried to set things straight, to move the family forward. We can't live in the past, but not many of us are ready to abandoned the old ways either... Ceremony... or The Prophecy."

Tara couldn't believe she found herself nodding in agreement. "Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? I didn't come here to do all this," she wiped her eyes and violently shook her head.

"I don't expect your forgiveness, Tara. I'll be the first to admit I don't deserve it. I was a terrible father, but I am your father, and I want to help; in any way you'll let me. If that means paying for Cooper's tuition and I never see either of you again, then that's okay. But I hope you'll let me do more... I miss you so much."

The tears in her father's eyes and pain on his face as he choked out the words broke the dam of emotion Tara had been holding back. With no hesitation she rose and trotted around her father's desk and threw herself into his lap as he rolled back, making room for his little girl.

Wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her head against his neck, Tara Bradley simply let her dad hold her, "I miss you too, Daddy."

Eventually Tara pulled back and looked at her father. "I was mad at you for so long, but I think I always knew it wasn't all your fault. I just needed you to change, and wanted you to be the one... to change things. You kept promising. I kept believing you. But you..."

"I lied... all the time. It's what I did. It's all I knew how to do. I thought I only had one purpose for living. I really thought The Prophecy would happen with Cooper, after... Abigail..." Ron trailed off.

The memory of finding her three-week-old daughter lifeless in her crib still haunts Tara. Even though she knew that purebred firstborn daughters were cursed to live only days or weeks, Tara had convinced herself her daughter would be different. She'd convinced herself she was different. She assured herself if she kept watch over her daughter for the first weeks, she could get her past the first month and she would live and the curse would be broken.

But the death of three-week-old Abigail Bradley had convinced the family, most especially her mother, that her next purebred child would be a son, and The One.

In her father's arms again after so long, Tara accepted for the first time that her father was a victim of their families beliefs as much as she was.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Tara offered pressing her tear stained face to her father's.

Their lips met. Father and daughter. Brother and sister. Mother and father. Man and woman.

"Ohh, Tara, my Cupcake," Ronald Bradley moaned against daughter's face.

"Mmm, Dad, I missed you. I missed my Daddy," Tara Bradley moaned into her father's mouth.

Ron pulled back from their kiss and stroked his little girl's hair, "God, you're still so beautiful baby."

Their lips locked again, pressing wetly before opening and their tongues each sought the other, hungrily wrestling as father and daughter made out passionately for several minutes.

Tara pulled back, gasping, looking into her father's eyes, heart thumping in her chest, unable to believe she was back in her father's arms, back home.

Tara stopped herself, she wasn't back, that wasn't why she was here. She wasn't about to give up her hard earned life just because she and her father reconciled. She could have both, couldn't she? As good as this felt, she wondered if she should stop and pump the breaks on the emotional tsunami threatening to carry them away?

But any reticence was forgotten when Tara felt the beginning of her father's erection, and she mashed her lips against his again, passionately stabbing her tongue into her father's mouth.

Father and daughter moaned and groaned as they kissed. Their relation was secondary, in that moment they simply were lovers reunited after so very long.

"I remember that feeling," Tara announced with a big smile and naughty giggle as she ground herself into her father's lap.

Ron leaned back, grinning, and asked hopefully, "Can I see it? My cupcake?"

Her heart pounding in her chest, Tara stood up and sat back on her dad's desk and spread her legs wide, her skirt bunching around her waist, exposing the light green fabric of her thin thong stretched over her plump, bald pussy mound. Slowly lowering her hand, dragging a finger along her barely concealed cuntlips, the daughter asked, "Daddy wants to see his little girl's cupcake?"

Ron groaned, his daughter was teasing him just like she used to. "Show daddy," he instructed simply.

And Tara Bradley did, she ran her hand over the thin fabric and then using two fingers, pulled the garment aside, baring her pussy to her father.

Ron groaned and sank to his knees before his daughter. He smiled as he lowered his face between her thighs and began kissing one, then the other, until both his little girl's spread legs, and then her freshly shaved mound, were wet from his kisses and licks.

Tara ran her fingers through her dad's hair as he kissed her pussy. She threw her head back as his tongue burrowed through her folds and pushed wetly into her heated flesh.

Moans and groans, and the sound of loud wet sucking filled the home office. The daughter huffed and puffed and hunched her crotch into her father's face. The father licked and lapped and kissed and sucked and slurped his child's sex until she fell back on the desk and shuddered and bucked in climax.

"Oh god, Tara, sweetheart. I missed tasting you. No one is as delicious as my cupcake." There was an earnestness, a sensuousness, in her father's voice that Tara couldn't remember hearing before. She lay back; gasping for breath as her climax slowly receded.

After several minutes Tara sat up to find her father sitting in his chair, shorts around his ankles and a smile on his wet face as he slowly tugged on his obscenely large cock.

Ron watched his daughter's eyes dart to his crotch and back again. His breath caught when she spread her pussy wide with her fingers, smiled naughtily and moaned.

"I want you, Daddy. If you promise to pull out, you can fuck me," she informed him.

Tara watched her dad smile as she showed him her wet pink love tunnel, but her naughty smile turned to surprise when he shook his head and told her, "We shouldn't, just in case."

"That's why you have to pull out," Tara attempted to qualify.

"No. Tara, it's a full moon tonight..." Ron reminded his daughter.

Tara cursed herself, she had stopped paying attention to the moon's phases years ago, very much on purpose. Today was simply the first day both she and Cooper had off work together. She was shocked by the coincidence though. Maybe the full moon explained... No! She shook her head again.

"Cupcake, I'm not expecting anything, but... you are both here," Ron stated with a shrug.

"Oh my god," Tara said angrily as she hopped off her father's desk and pulled her underwear back into place. "Is this why you called? To get me here on a full moon, thinking you can keep The Prophecy going?"

"No, no baby... Tara, you picked today. Remember?" Ron reminded his daughter.

Tara stood stiff in shock realizing her Dad was right. "No... I didn't mean... Daddy, that's not... Cooper never... He doesn't know... We haven't... That's not why I'm here," she stammered.

Her father held his hands up, "I know, Cupcake. I know. It's just you have to admit... the timing... it's the Thunder Moon."

Ron watched Tara's eyes widen in shock before she shook her head again vehemently, "I can't make a baby with Cooper, Daddy. I... I had 18 years to get used to the idea... He doesn't know about any of this!"

Stepping to his daughter and pulling her into his arms, "I know. I know, Sweetie. It's okay. Look I will help you no matter what. I'll give you everything, all my money, my cars, everything! I'd love to have you in my life no matter what. But you know the land is the one thing I can't just give you. It's not mine to give. You have to inherit it; you have to continue the pureblood line... You are the last, you know?"

Tara couldn't understand why she suddenly felt torn about something she had long ago dismissed. "I can't, Daddy. I'm sorry," Tara forced the words out, surprised at the effort it took, and even more surprised by the regret she felt. Pulling back from her father, she expected his disappointment or condemnation.

"That's fine, Cupcake, I don't expect you to. I just don't think we should tempt the fates by having sex is all." Ron explained. "At least not today," he added with a grin.

Tara looked up at her father, "You really have changed," she giggled as she relaxed and he once again pulled her close. She felt his cock stab her stomach. She grinned and looked up into her father's eyes, "Does that mean I can't suck it?"

Ron grinned and looked thoughtful, before he chuckled, "I don't remember there being anything against that."

Father and daughter giggled and hugged and kissed.

Ron groaned feeling his daughter's petite fingers wrap around his swollen flesh and tug. "Mmmm. My little Cupcake, you always did like playing with it."

Tara smiled feeling her father's girth in her hand again after so long, "And you always liked when I played with it. Especially when I sucked it. And I seem to remember you really liked it when I was dirty and begged you to cum all over my face!"

"Tara, sweetheart, gods how I've missed you," the father groaned caressing Tara's cheek tenderly before sliding his hand to the top of her head. Ron Bradley stared into his little girl's eyes and gave her a naughty grin as he started to gently push her down, but his daughter resisted.

Tara pulled away from her father with a shake of her head and naughty glint in her eye, and chastised him, "Uh-uh."

Ron Bradley watched his little girl walk around to the other side of his desk before laying forward across it with a big smile on her face. Then she turned over, facing up and shimmied until her head was hanging over the edge. The father's breath caught and he moaned, "Oh, Cupcake..."

Looking up at her inverted father, Tara Bradley giggled and announced, "You're the only one who knows how I like it, Daddy."

****

III: Fates Warning.

Tara joined her family outside after cleaning herself up in a bathroom. Her throat was raw and sore, and her eyes stung swollen and red. She'd washed away what evidence she hadn't hungrily consumed, but knew she could only delay for so long as she pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and approached the group.

"Hi sweetie," she greeted her son, finding him deep in a conversation about baseball. Tara stood and took in the happy look on his face.

Somewhere, deep in her mind, a small voice was telling her to leave. She had secured financial help with Cooper's tuition and improbably, seemingly impossibly, repaired her relationship with her father. Don't temp the fates.

But the voice was faint and couldn't compete with the buzz she was experiencing from connecting with her father physically once again, and perhaps for the first time ever - emotionally.

Her pussy still excited from the orgasm her father had given her, and the taste of his jizzum still fresh in her mouth, Tara had to admit she didn't want to leave. Despite knowing better. Despite that part of herself that was warning her. No matter how much that increasingly small and distant voice yelled it was not match for the high she felt from being home again.

Home. Tara wondered if she had always held out hope of this day. Of this outcome. Of returning. Of reuniting with her father.

Of course she would leave again, soon, in a little while, she assured herself.

She and her son would mingle and eat, and then head back to their lives in the city, back to work and school. As it has been. As it would be. They could visit. Maybe next weekend.

No, she had to work next weekend.

But maybe the next.

Tara looked around. All the reasons for leaving escaped her. Everything was calm and peaceful, nice and new. Everyone was happy. Dad was sober.

They could stay.

It could be hers. And then it could be Coopers. It could continue to pass down...

No! That would mean...

Tara looked at her son and strangely it felt like she was truly seeing him for the first time. Somehow Cooper Bradley was suddenly so tall, so fit, so... attractive, and so... masculine... like his father.

It was an absurd thought, the mother knew. Her son had been taller than her for some years now. And baseball had made him lean and muscular. And good genes had made him rugged and handsome.

Tara had to bite her lip to stifle a groan as she looked at her son and her pussy creamed. She felt the wetness trickle between her thighs and remembered giving her father her panties as a trophy before they left his office. An old habit made new.

Oh god... This place... The full moon... The Prophecy... She could feel it! It flowed through her! Stronger than it ever had! She was part of it! It was part of her! She belonged here!

Tara turned to look at the temple and felt the world fall away from her. Suddenly it was night, the stars shown brightly and lightning traced the sky as vivid images flashed against the darkness.

At first instance she thought them memories as she saw herself pregnant, her swollen belly glistening in the bright Florida sun. But she quickly realized they weren't memories, she wasn't a teenager in her vision. It wasn't her father's hand caressing her pregnant belly.

And it wasn't her father the family bowed to.

It was her!

Tara saw herself as Deo, Queen, powerful, beautiful, pregnant with her son's child... a son of a son. Purebred.

Tara felt apart from time, outside of reality, between planes of existence, observing the past, present, and future simultaneously. She saw herself as she had been, a horny, petulant teenaged daughter. Just turned 18 and resentful of a future predestined.

And she saw her father as he had been, a horny, immature patriarch. Fast approaching middle age and relying on sex and intoxicants to numb himself to the responsibilities forced upon him.

Then she saw herself as she is, mature and capable. A grown woman. An assertive professional. A loving mother. It would truly be her choice... Choosing to partake in Ceremony. Choosing to continue the bloodline. Choosing to invoke The Prophecy. Choosing to summon The One.

The mother saw her son standing beside her as she sat upon a throne, strong and purposeful in his role as both son, and father to his own sibling.

Then Tara saw her younger self staring back, smiling, but... it wasn't her. She was confused as a sudden unease overcame her. An otherworldly feeling surged through Tara as the teenage girl smiled and stared back expectantly.

"Ab... Abigail?" Tara questioned.

Her daughter, taken from the world in infancy, now grown, adult, nodded, "Yes, Mother. I have waited patient and resolute for your return. The Prophecy is upon us. The Deo and The Sire are among us. The One awaits conception."

Tara resisted, "No! You can't mean Cooper! He... We... I... You..."

"Purify his heart, Mother. Show my brother true love. Before it is too late..."

Tara felt her daughter' hand caress her cheek as a realization overcame her. Tara saw herself and her father in their son's features and understood her son had been conceived in heat, in lust, in the taboo yearnings of a father and daughter who both felt trapped and gave into their carnal urges as means of escape. The child they had conceived, Cooper Bradley, was pure of blood, but not pure of heart!

Purify his heart.

Before it is too late.

Her daughter's smiling face faded, replaced by the night sky which was suddenly and violently ripped open, and Tara watched in horror as a brutal war unfolded in the stars as lightning and blood rained down on Earth.

Tara Bradley witnessed the beginning and end of all things; worlds formed and collided, life sprouted only to be snuffed into nothingness again. Battles raged. Empires rose and fell. Eons, all of history flashed before her eyes. She could sense it, the knowledge... she could almost understand it, almost control it... almost harness it. Yet it remained tantalizingly, frustratingly, just beyond her grasp.

Except for the terrifying sense that The Prophecy was true. Real. Necessary. Necessary to prevent humanity's destruction.

"Purify his heart, Mother. Show my brother true love. Before it is too late..."

"Tara. Tara..."

"Hey, Mom. You okay?"

The feel of her son's fingers on her bare shoulder, skin on skin, brought Tara back.

She realized one of her brothers was trying to get her attention.

She also realized her father was standing before her, donning an apron reading 'Kiss The Chef,' BBQ tongs in hand. "Hope everyone's hungry," he smiled.

"I'm fine," she assured her son, offering everyone a smile as they made their way down to the picnic area at the lake. She couldn't resist glancing amongst the family, looking for her daughter Abigail, almost expecting to actually see her.

Of course she wasn't there, but the mother could feel her daughter's presence for the first time since her death, as if a missing piece of herself had been restored. She knew she was there, just beyond the veil. Waiting. Patient and resolute.

Reconciled physically and emotionally with her father, and reunited cosmically with her daughter, Tara Bradley acknowledged another long simmering absence, the one between her legs. It was a need beyond mere hormones. Beyond sex. Beyond orgasm.

Walking down the hill, Tara Bradley felt her tits bouncing and was surprised to see her stiff pierced nipples poking the material of her tank top. She shook her head, realizing she had taken her bra off in the bathroom when she cleaned up without even a thought.

The freedom of her bouncing breasts and the slickness between her thighs made the mother smile as she wrapped her arm through her son's, understanding she was finally accepting what she'd denied herself all these years, that her son was the source of that nagging sense of absence, of emptiness, and the only one capable of satisfying it, of filling it, of making her whole.

****

Interlude: Climax In White.

18 for less than a day, Tara Bradley donned the traditional dress of the Pureblood Ceremony. Despite the warnings of her mother and other female elders, Tara was resolute in wanting her father to father her firstborn.

Operating on pure emotion, the teenager was too horny and too excited to deliberate her incaution. She understood her duty as a practical matter, sex with her father to create a child, but the reason; her family's beliefs - The Prophecy - remained an oblique concept to the teen.

Outwardly, Tara took her family's beliefs seriously as taught, while inwardly secretly doubting every word. She equally wanted it to be true, while also hating herself for seeking relief in that belief.

Mostly Tara was impatient and wanted to get it over with. To find out what would happen. To fulfill her duties and get on with her life. She needed to know what else life had to offer beyond pre-ordained servitude.

Slipping on the ancient, diaphanous Gown of Freyja, newly adult Tara Bradley mentally prepared herself, imagining what her father's big cock would feel like.

Once robed and masked - men in black and women in red - Clan Bradley separated into Legion as per custom and surrounded the altar as Tara's mother escorted the 18-year-old Deo into the center.

A collective hum from her relatives rose steadily in volume as Tara took her place, standing in front of the stone altar.

The hum slowly began to turn into a chant, as one by one each Bradley joined to mark each step of The Sire as he approached.

Tara felt her fuzz covered pussy tremble and leak as her father strode forth confidently, the Robe of Freyr naturally parted to each side, allowing his hugely erect cock to swing freely.

Tara hated the waiting. 18 years of waiting. Waiting to feel a cock inside her, feel it stretch her, claim her, breed her.

Thank god masturbation and sex toys weren't forbidden the young girl thought, suddenly glad to have broken her hymen years ago as she gazed upon her father's considerable girth and length.

The chant reached a unified crescendo as Ronald Bradley, The Sire, stood in front of his newly adult daughter, 'Pure of blood! Pure of blood! Pure of blood.'

The chanting continued and Tara's mother accepted a silver chalice from the eldest amongst them.

Tara felt her stomach knot as she accepted the goblet and drank the thick liquid.

Ron Bradley's erection somehow seemed to grow with each gulp his daughter took.

As family patriarch and The Sire, Ron had fucked nearly all the adult women in the family, impregnating several, including his own mother over 18 years ago when he created Tara, his first pureblood daughter.

18 years the father waited. He could hardly process that the time had come; his baby girl was now an adult. He could hardly believe she had chosen to defy the elders and chose him to be the first to breed her.

He worried about the Prophecy; worried his daughter's firstborn could possibly be a girl, and cursed. He hoped it would be a boy, hoped his son would be - The One.

Secretly Ron Bradley had long desired the end to all of it. Being the family patriarch, The Sire, The Ceremony, The Prophecy, all its rules, and all its burdens.

But as his beautiful daughter stood before him all but nude, Ron wanted nothing more than to fuck his little girl. He felt an animal hunger as he always did during ceremony, but this was greater than any need he'd ever experienced.

Tara handed the chalice back to her mother and the chanting stopped.

Tara felt the gown being removed and looked to see predatory bloodshot eyes peering from behind every mask. She could sense the hunger as her family took in her nudity.

The leader of each Legion stepped forward to bless and prepare the Deo as was tradition.

Ægir of Water Legion shaved Tara's pussy bare.

Aradia of Magic Legion pierced Tara's nipples, inserting thick gold bars.

Hekate of Night Legion inserted a ruby bejeweled silver plug into Tara's anus.

Cernunnos of Animal Legion placed a leather collar around Tara's neck, leashing her to the altar.

-- --

After what seemed like hours of prurient, uninhibited, animalistic fucking, 18-year-old Tara Bradley lay prone across the hard stone altar, sweaty, heaving for breath, her ravaged body shuddering through the final spasms of climax, the last remnant of countless orgasms.

Her father collapsed next to her with a groan.

She looked up at the stars, the vastness of the cosmos accompanied by the soundtrack of human lust as her relatives encircled the altar, their nude bodies either laying in heaving exhaustion or banging together in unbridled passion as those still unfulfilled fucked and sucked in wild abandon.

Tara slid her fingers through her tender pussy lips, collecting some of her father's leaking semen before bringing her fingers to her mouth.

As she slowly sucked her fingers clean, the 18-year-old took inventory of her ravaged body. Her eyes burned and tears stained her cheeks. Her lips felt thick and swollen. Her throat was raw and rough. Her abused nipples were painful to the touch. Her father's sperm trickled from her tender pussy. Her invaded rectum was sore and her stretched anus stung.

Yet the teenager couldn't deny she was happy. Happy to have had sex. Happy to be impregnated. Happy to have it over with.

She also couldn't wait to do it again, though she knew she'd have to wait until the creation was proven. Tara looked around at her relatives and wondered who would be next, who would want to fuck their pregnant sister or niece? Probably all of them she snickered.

Tara blew out a relieved breath. She'd done it. Assumed her role as Deo and welcomed her father's sperm into her womb to create a child in hopes of summoning The One, though there had been no signs, The Temple hadn't glowed, the sky hadn't opened, lightning hadn't rained down in thundering applause.

Tara Bradley giggled at the notion the tales could be true and looked over to her father. She'd hoped to see tenderness, comfort and understanding, and to sense an emotional bond, and ethereal connection. She hoped to share an eternal moment with her father as they created a life together.

Instead her father smiled in accomplishment, a hollow congratulatory assurance as if they'd just won the potato sack race at a family picnic.

Ron Bradley simply reached over and squeezed his daughter's painfully abused breast and sneered, "We did it, huh? We made another baby."

Another baby. The words were a dagger to the teenager's heart. Her father had at least eight other children with sisters, cousins or aunts. It was in that moment that Tara first realized she was merely another... next... one of many. There was no magic, no prophecy. It was just sex, just fucking, just... incest.

Tara Bradley looked up at the vastness of the stars and for the first time, felt truly alone.

****

IV: Fates Call.

The din of conversation intensified over the meal. Joyous. Happy. Tara couldn't remember such relaxed ease and laughter growing up.

Sitting next to her son, she squirmed as every breeze seemed to blow directly across her now scantily covered nipples and barely concealed pussy.

The mother took in her son's happiness as he conversed with his newly introduced family.

The daughter took in the warm smile on her father's face, as he looked over his family in patriarchal pride.

Every time her dad looked at her, Tara shuddered, remembering his cock fucking her throat only a short time ago.

The meal went on and on, not because of the amount of food and drink, but because of the camaraderie, the friendship, the kinship.

Tara realized one of her half-sisters was trying to get her attention, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Will you and Cooper be heading back to the city after we're done eating?" her sister, Kelly, asked.

Tara thought one thing, but said another, "I'd like to show him The Temple first."

The words surprised everyone, including Tara, the statement was instinctual and her heart pounded in her chest. The words also caused everyone to stop and look at her and Cooper.

"What?" Cooper Bradley questioned, seeing everyone's attention on him and his mother.

"Nothing," his mother assured him, taking his hand and smiling.

It was a momentary pause and Tara could see everyone's surprised looks change to amusement and joy before resuming their myriad conversations. Her father's knowing smile made her pussy gush.

-- --

Some time later Tara was walking her son towards The Temple, her fingers entwined with his, her head against his arm.

Cooper felt an ease and closeness he'd never felt with anyone before. Primal, instinctual, comfortable, and exciting. The 18-year-old was shocked to feel his cock swell as his mother held his hand. He could feel her plump breast and stiff pierced nipple grazing his forearm as they walked, the gentle sway pushing his arm back and forth against her barely concealed flesh.

The son questioned his mother's obvious lack of a bra, trying to remember if her nipples had been so pronounced on the ride over. Why hadn't he noticed? Should he have noticed? Glancing at her bouncing breasts, he thought surely he would have noticed before, wouldn't he? Why is he noticing now?

The questions came to the boy, but slid away just as quickly. All the things he'd been worried about before arriving seemed to loose importance as the day went on.

Shouldn't becoming aroused by his mother be worrying?

But the son couldn't help being enraptured by the woman holding his hand, mother or not. Her stress and stiffness was gone, replaced by an ease Cooper wasn't sure he'd ever sensed from his mother before.

He stole glances as they walked, his mom had let her hair loose from it's usual casual ponytail before she rejoined them outside. Her golden blonde mane spread across her shoulders, thick and tempting, copper-ish streaks glinting in the sun.

Her tank top stretched to contain her sizable breasts, which shimmied with an enticingly firm jiggle as they walked and her stiff thick nipples and barbell piercings stabbed the fabric, testing the cotton's tenacity.

Her short skirt hugged her bottom, each rounded cheek alternating a firm rhythmic bounce under the thin material.

Cooper Bradley found all of his mother... enticing. Her exposed arms and legs. And neck. And shoulders. Ankles. Wrists. Her tiny toes bared by her sandals. Bare skin. Smooth. Firm.

The desire to take his mother in his arms and hold her just to feel her against him surged through the teenager. The idea shocked him. The need shook him. He'd never felt anything like it before. He suddenly felt incomplete without his mother. Empty. The feeling was frightening.

Cooper Bradley had always known his mother was pretty. His friends were always quick to remind him she was in fact hot... and a MILF. But he'd never allowed himself any taboo indulgences and Tara Bradley had always just been Mom to him. And Mom had worn short skirts and tank tops before. And he'd seen Mom in her underwear on more than one occasion.

Now, somehow, he was questioning why he'd never noticed Mom was indeed... hot... and most definitely a MILF.

As they walked hand in hand Cooper Bradley couldn't prevent himself from mentally undressing his mother. He felt as if he'd just opened Pandora's Box, allowing himself to think about his mother sexually. He sensed he'd just crossed a line he could never step back over and his heart thundered in his chest and sweat trickled down the back of his neck, the intense Florida heat suddenly no match for the heat of his taboo imigination.

He was seeing her, not just his mother, but Tara, the woman, for the first time. He kept saying her name over in his head, Tara. He'd never considered it before, but it suited her. It was a pretty name. A sexy name. A sexy name for a sexy woman.

The need to hold his mother in his arms suddenly became a need to be nude with his mother. The need to be more intimate than clothes would allow. Their naked bodies pressed together.

Cooper's cock lurched painfully in his shorts at the thought of experiencing that kind if intimacy with his mother.

As they walked amongst the stone pillars, his feelings intensified and Cooper pulled his hand away from his mother. He needed to break contact with her. He needed to think. None of this made sense. These people. This place. This... temple?

"What's wrong, Sweetie," his mother inquired.

The son assured his mother, "Nothing," was wrong as he took in the scale and detail of the stone and marble surroundings. Every surface was covered with carved symbols, some of which he recognized. "Mom, what is this place? You called it a temple before? I don't understand. Why did you keep me from coming here all these years. Why did you stay away? Everyone is so nice... and this...?"

Tara watched as her son held his arms wide, and took in the majesty of The Temple. In that moment the mother accepted her fate, she knew her son was as connected to the land as she was.

She felt selfish for leaving, she should have stayed and fought for the changes she knew were needed. She should have helped her father, not abandoned him. It had been foolish to avoid it all these years and unfair to her son, to deny him his family, and his birthright.

Mother and son looked over the impossibly huge granite pillars that rose from the earth and pointed towards the heavens. Their smooth finish and sharply exact angles seemed impossibly precise considering their immense size, let alone their obvious age.

Veins of silver and gold ran through the rock, like metallic arteries, glittering in the sun. Quartz and marble deposits glistened, highlighting many of the symbols carved into the surface.

Cooper Bradley stepped closer and closely examined a carving. Not a carving, his brain announced, no tool could chisel stone so precisely, so delicately, so indelibly. It was as if the symbol was simply part of the rock.

The teenager scanned the symbols, a chill running up his spine. Some he recognized, their likenesses indelible from inclusion in popular culture and basic world history texts.

Some he felt he should recognize, they seemed somehow similar, related, almost familiar, but nevertheless remained opaque. Not unlike a common word or phrase that slips from your mind, you retain sense of its meaning, but its invocation remains just frustratingly beyond reach.

There were also symbols wholly unfamiliar, seemingly inhuman or possibly non-terrestrial.

19-year-old Cooper Bradley shivered, he felt strangely connected to the structure. Plugged in. But his mind couldn't make sense of his feelings, the familiarity, the sense of forgotten knowledge.

"How...? How can this... exist?" the son stuttered in wonder.

"I can tell you what I know," Tara Bradley offered, taking a seat on one of the thick granite benches and patting the spot next to her.

"No one knows where it came from," the mother started. She was shocked by her own words, suddenly recalling they were the first words her mother had spoken when Tara first asked the same question so many years ago.

Tara had been a precocious pre-teen then. She had thought her mother's explanation a neat story, a cool idea; too young and not yet able to accept the seriousness of her family's belief.

Now she looked at her adult, grown son, and sensed the seriousness of his consideration as she continued, "The stories are old, maybe as old as our line. Maybe as old as time. Passed down generation to generation. Though it is also very possible the stories were changed, amended, misunderstood, or parts even simply invented. Yet it exists."

Cooper nodded along with his mother's statement as she gestured, invoking the temple's grandiosity as proof of its meaningfulness.

Tara took her son's hand and smiled knowingly, comforting her child. "Some say it has always existed, in this place. Risen from the earth as is. Some say it was brought here, piece by piece, on wooden ships by our ancestors, the ancient warriors of the northern lands and seas, large men capable of such a feat. Some say it was placed here... by someone... or something... that it came from the heavens or... out there."

Cooper joined his mother in gazing upward into the intensely bright Florida sky. He then lowered his head and looked at his mother, asking, "What's it for?"

"Tell him," Tara heard her daughter's voice, instructing her, assuring her.

Tara drew a sharp breath and squeezed Cooper's hand. The mother had a one final fleeting notion that she should protect her child from their family history. But for the first time, that thought felt unnatural. And the mother felt an indescribable calmness... and heat. They were here. He wants to know. He's an adult.

So adult, Tara thought, gazing up into her son's handsome face. Feeling her tiny hand dwarfed in the warm strength of his much larger palm as his fingers closed around hers. The mother couldn't help wonder what else might be that big, a flutter of naughty excitement rumbling through her already slick vagina as she contemplated having sex with her son for the first time.

Tara opened her mouth, but Cooper cut her off, asking another question, pointedly, excitedly, as if he'd just gleaned access to a secret, "Does it have to do with how everyone is related?"

Her son's question caused a tremor... he knows... he senses it.

"Tell him," Abigail Bradley once again bade her mother.

Tara studied her son's face. She didn't see shock or worry or disgust. She saw wonder and enthusiasm. "There's a..." she began, unsure, before feeling her daughter's presence; both her children were awaiting her guidance, her leadership. A confident calm washed over Tara Bradley as she gripped Cooper's hand, excited to share their history with her son, "We have... a prophecy..."

****

V: Pure Of Blood, Summon The One.

Tara Bradley approached The Temple once again wearing the Gown of Freya, clear white eyes staring from behind every mask, taking in her near nudity, her now mature beauty; studying, appraising, hoping.

Hope was a new sensation, one Tara had not experienced during her previous temple ceremonies. Those ceremonies, being bred by her father, creating her daughter and then son, had existed in a hedonistic bubble of emotionally immature lust and intoxicated escapism. Those ceremonies served purpose but lacked meaning, Tara thought, now realizing they had been carried-out out of hedonistic hunger, out of prurient lust, out of ritual... and out of habit.

But what had been vapid exhibitionism and kink then, was now undeniably serious and purposeful as Tara sensed the fate of both her family and the human world hung in the balance.

And what had seemed performative decades ago, the procession, the hum slowly becoming chant, now bristled with significance and urgency as Tara parted the Legions of red and black, returning the intently sober gazes of her family members with a calm, resolute seriousness.

Led by her father, Tara Bradley felt powerful, connected to her family and their home in a way she never had.

As the patriarch led the Deo through Clan Bradley, the chant, "Pure of blood! Pure of blood! Pure of blood!" increased in intensity and emotion.

As she approached the altar she saw her son for the first time since they had separated to prepare for The Ceremony.

She gazed upon her adult child, his large manly cock protruding from the Robe of Freyr and Tara felt a tremble of matronly love and responsibility.

Though she'd purposefully avoided this possibility for two decades, and had denied herself even the taboo fantasy of a physical relationship with her own child, now there was nothing the mother wanted more than to make love and procreate with her son.

Her pussy creamed at the thought, but not salaciously; kink wasn't part of this as it had been with her father. No, Tara Bradley desired to make up for the inebriated lasciviousness that perverted the circumstances of Cooper's conception. Tara wanted to comfort and pleasure her son with her body, to take him back inside her and love him purely, in a way only a mother possibly could.

And she wanted to bear his child, not because it was expected, but because it was natural, the byproduct of intercourse, and of love making.

And for the first time, the mother also felt the cosmic responsibility to extend and prolong their pureblood lineage.

Tara Bradley fully understood her role as Deo for the first time.

-- --

Earlier, as Tara explained The Prophecy and her family's history as best she could, she sensed both her and her son's tensions fade until there was only comfort. There was no unease, no fear, no anxiousness as the mother neared her ultimate confession.

"Ron, my grandfather, your father... he's also my father?" 19-year-old Cooper Bradley questioned outright.

What his mother had always worried would be an emotionally scarring, life devastating admission, was instead a joyous revelation for both; remorseless, freeing, empowering.

Tara felt her heart swell as she watched Copper look over the property, studying The Temple, the land, and their clan with an proud, excited smile.

-- --

Cooper Bradley loved his mother. It had always been just the two of them for all his life. Often he'd dreamt of having a bigger family: grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, even siblings. He excused these fantasies as natural, the longing for generational connection.

Occasionally he would feel isolated from his friends, almost all of whom had extended family they spoke of spending time with. Sometimes the obvious closeness classmates took for granted at having a brother or sister enraged him.

But Cooper had his mother. Sometimes he pondered their unique situation. His mother didn't hide the fact that an extended family did exist, nor that they were close by. He knew she kept in touch with only a few of them, and he'd only ever met one of his Aunts, Kelly, who visited a few times.

Cooper sussed that Aunt Kelly had also left the family and moved to another city, but unlike his mother, Kelly would return to visit every few years. When Kelly announced she and her husband and kids were moving 'back' to live with her family, Cooper sensed his mother's disapproval, and Kelly's visits ceased.

Though never explicit in her condemnation of her family, his mother had always characterized them as vaguely dangerous and immoral; and growing up he'd learned early on to hide his lineage as 'Lake Raunch' and the Bradley's still occasionally served as the subject of derisive ridicule for his classmates.

Yet as they sat amongst the unworldly structure of The Temple, and his mother explained their history, Cooper felt any residual ill feelings or concerns fade away.

He sensed that he would not have been prepared to accept any of what his mother was telling him as a child and he marveled at her strength of will to leave such a place having been brought up with such incredible expectations.

He recalled the grungy apartments they'd lived in when he was young, before they moved into 'their house.' And all the nights spent with baby-sitters while his mother worked 12-hour shifts. He'd grown to appreciate his mother for being so hard working and driven, especially as he matured and came to comprehend the true costs of living safely and comfortably.

He sensed the burden his mother had been carrying all these years, the heartbreak and desperation that had driven her away from this place, as well as the guilt of leaving.

Cooper began to sense the history of the land and his mother's childhood. He sensed the heartbreak, betrayal, and emptiness his mother experienced. He sensed how things had changed for the better since his mother left, he sensed witnessing the family's prosperity and sobriety was a great relief for his mother. He sensed being here again was healing her heartbreak.

He also sensed everyone's intertwined relationships.

And he sensed what was needed to prolong, or possibly even realize The Prophecy before his mother ever stated the taboo stipulations.

Cooper also sensed he understood something his mother didn't. That her leaving had been the impetus for the changes they were witnessing today. The changes that brought them here, uniting the clan once again.

He was sure his mother felt her reasons for leaving were purely selfish, but she had done the hardest thing imaginable for a pregnant teenager, leaving the safety of home to build a life of her own while protecting and providing for her child.

He felt sure his mother didn't understand her leaving set things on a course of self-correction, allowing the family to prosper and The Prophecy to survive.

Cooper felt connected to everything and everyone. Most especially his mother. As he looked at her he wanted nothing more then to be with her... physically. She was so beautiful, so kind, so loving. He wanted to share himself sexually with his mother, prophecy or no prophecy.

He could sense his mother working towards something he already understood... who his father is. Somehow he'd sensed it when his grandfather had first opened the door.

He felt an excitement unlike anything he'd ever experienced. An intimate closeness with his mother he'd never expected. A physical connection with this place, the land, The Temple, that he hadn't realized possible.

Cooper Bradley now understood the choice his mother made, both years ago and now, and he felt the weight of the decision he sensed was expected of him.

He sensed the stakes were larger than just the well-being of the Bradley clan, but the size and scope remained frustratingly beyond his grasp.

But he felt no burden; the weight was simply his to bear - for himself, for his mother, and for his family. He was sure of his part and his decision, and sure of his future.

-- --

Tara Bradley watched as her son's robe was removed. Her knees went week seeing her child nude for the first time in many years. He was a fully-grown man, adult, masculine, and prodigiously well hung.

The mother watched as the leader of each Legion stepped forward to bless and prepare the Sire as per tradition.

Ægir of Water Legion shaved Cooper's pubis and scrotum.

Aradia of Magic Legion pierced Cooper's nipples, inserting thick gold bars.

Hekate of Night Legion placed a silver cock ring around the base of his erection.

Cernunnos of Animal Legion placed a leather collar around Cooper's neck, leashing him to the altar.

The chanting became near deafening as Tara's gown was removed.

Mother and son stood before each other nude, hearts thudding, genitals pulsing, fluids leaking.

Tara watched as Cooper was laid back on the stone table, his impossibly hard cock jutting from his groin not unlike one of the granite pillars that encircled them.

The chanting reached a frenzied crescendo as Tara climbed onto the altar and hovered over her son.

No words were spoken between the mother and son; they only stared into each other's eyes as she positioned herself, nuzzling the swollen head of his erect penis into the hot wet groove of her drooling vagina.

The chant ceased with a violent, animalist cry from the clan as Tara Bradley lowered herself onto her son, her freshly shaved snatch sliding down his rigid pole, her son reclaiming the place of his birth.

In that moment, as the flesh of mother and son were rejoined, as generations of incestuously bred family watched, as the bodily fluids of parent and child mixed, the prophecy was realized.

As Cooper craned his neck to latch his lips onto one of his mother's heavy hanging breasts...

And as Tara slid her slick, hungrily grasping cunt up and down her son's cock, pushing herself down onto his granite like pole harder and harder, remembering what it felt like to carry his developing body inside hers for nine months...

The world fell away from them in silence... even as the sky above them split open with a violent, thunderous explosion.

The Bradley clan froze in shock as mother and son fucked with abandon, oblivious to the unfolding calamity.

The clan's usual orgy in offer to The Prophecy was instead replaced by wide-eyed frozen awe as the heavens split and lightning flashed and struck the stone pillars of The Temple.

The Bradley clan bore witness as worlds, stars, planets, ships, alien beings, beasts, monsters, and human ancestors - ancient and modern - appeared in the fractured sky, ready to fight for the right to traverse the fissure and claim the human realm as their own.

A truly cosmic battle ensued. All of history fighting for control, dominance. Extraterrestrial beings in fantastical ships, mythological creatures of unimaginable scale, and eons of deities and historical warriors of every creed lashed out in rage as the sky rained blood, lightning, and falling stars.

The crack of thunder, the roar of beasts, and the cries of the fallen all mixed with the slick sound of wet pussy bouncing on thick hard dick as Cooper Bradley groped his mother as she passionately made love to him.

Tara Bradley grunted each time her son's cock poked at her womb, knowing he would soon flood the place of his conception with his own potent teenage sperm.

She watched his face contort in pleasure with each desperate plunge of her pelvis and each lusty roll of her hips.

Cooper moaned as his mother's cunt perfectly molded itself to his length and girth, wetly sliding, grasping, and hugging him.

Mother and son were oblivious to the frightening, world melding, mind melting, intergalactic, interdimensional, interrealm war being waged above them.

Each was lost in their combined pleasure, insulated from the world around them by their lust and love and need until Tara leaned down to kiss her son and the gold bars in their nipples met and sparked just as their tongues entwined.

Ribbons of golden electricity connected between their chests as mother and son howled in pleasure, bucking against each other with an animalistic intensity neither realized possible.

"Mom. Mom! Mom!!!!!" Cooper roared through gritted teeth as he bucked his hips up off the stone table, driving every impossibly erect inch of himself into his mother.

"Cooper. Son! Yes!!!!!!" Tara cried, gasping between each impossibly filling plunge onto her son's swollen stalk.

The Bradley clan stood witness as worlds exploded, legendary beasts battled, and ancestors warred in the heavens above them while mother and son fucked in front of them on Earth.

The war of histories thundered, flashed, and exploded in pain, misery, mutilation and anguish in the sky. The ancestors seemed to be gaining an upper hand until a truly monstrous being appeared.

The great old one, Cthulhu; giant, winged, and tentacled, drew a gasp from Clan Bradley as they watched in horror as the monster crushed whole worlds, ripped large vessels into pieces, and devoured enemies in bunches.

Tara and Cooper Bradley's groans of passion grew in volume as they fucked impossibly hard upon the stone table. The air smelled of sex and electricity as bolts of gold lighting continued to connect between mother and son's nipple piercings with growing intensity.

In the sky, Cthulhu, despite having no allies, easily dispatched with each enemy, one after another, as the Bradley's looked on in despair.

On earth, mother and son were lost in lust, oblivious to anything except their imminent climaxes, as they ground their bodies together in desperate need of release and procreation.

Just as the battle seemed lost, the great old one let out a deafening, unworldly shriek of pain as a winged horse appeared and its rider thrust a golden glowing sword into the creature's chest.

Wounded, but not fatally, Cthulhu struck back, one of its tentacles knocking the horse and rider back to regroup as the monster roared in irritation.

Cooper Bradley rammed his hips upward, spearing his mother's flesh with one final horny thrust.

Tara Bradley slammed her hips down with all her might, throwing her wet pussy onto her son's cock with one last desperate plunge.

Cthulhu squared off as the winged horse and rider began one final charge at the legendary beast.

The mother's vagina trembled and fluttered and spasmed, grasping and flooding as her climax thundered through her entire being with a pleasure she hadn't known possible.

The son's cock swelled and pulsed and spewed as his climax exploded, his entire body racked in spasms of unimagined pleasure.

The winged horse glided. The rider's gold sword glowed brightly, blazingly.

The child's semen splashed into the mother's womb, eggs and sperm united in a primal ritual as old as time.

Cooper and Tara Bradley heaved and groaned and wailed as their bodies orgasmed in unison. Mother and son bonded... and bred. The son tensing and releasing beneath his mother and the mother throwing her head back, crying to the heavens atop her son as electricity shot from the incestuous couple to all the pillars surrounding the altar, charging The Temple until it glowed.

The sky flashed gold as lightning unlike any seen before erupted, uniting the heavens and Earth. The blinding bolt shot from the temple with breathtaking force and power, electrifying the winged horse and rider who let out a banshee wail and sliced through Cthulu with her glowing gold sword, the mythic monster withering with a pain wracked dying wail that echoed through all of eternity.

Then the heavens fell silent and the fissure closed, the sky once again a boundless backdrop for its infinite stars.

Only the winged horse and rider remained and approached.

Tara and Cooper Bradley, breathless, sweaty, and hopelessly enamored with one another, cuddled and kissed as they caught their breath; unaware of the eternal cosmic battle they just helped decide.

The horse and rider landed. The animal was truly majestic, purely white and heavily muscled, its wings so simply and seamlessly an integrated part of its body, it was as if wingless horses were somehow defective.

The rider was perfection in feminine form, athletic, beautiful, young, and nude.

Mother and son, having returned to the world, looked on in shock as the horse landed and Tara gasped seeing her daughter dismount the majestic animal, glowing sword in hand.

19-year-old Abigail Bradley met the stares of her relatives as she confidently and triumphantly strode through the gathering to stand before her mother and brother. Her skin was a flawless alabaster pale but sparkled in the moonlight as if covered in a fine phosphorescent dust. Her copper blonde hair, braided only on one side, likewise had a metallic sheen to it.

"Abigail." Tara wasn't asking, she knew this was her Abigail, cruelly taken from her at less than a month old. She'd seen her in her earlier vision, felt her guidance with Cooper, and now she stood before her and Cooper and their family as real as anything.

"Cooper, this is your sister, Abigail," Tara introduced her son to his sister. "Your full sister," she clarified, full siblings being a rarity in the family.

Abigail smiled knowingly and extended her hand, "Brother!"

The Bradley clan crowded the altar, eager to hear what the girl had to say. There were whispers amongst them. She was a god, a princess. The One. The Prophecy was complete. Maybe not, maybe there was more to come...

"My family, thank you all for your help," Abigail announced, looking over the clan. Then she smiled, "I'm sorry the fight interrupted Ceremony. Please know humanity now rules the heavens and an era of peace and prosperity unlike any before is upon us!" Then holding up her sword, she bellowed, "What is the best thing we can do after a battle, to honor the fallen? Make babies!" and she thrust her sword into the ground, the temple immediately glowing gold.

Everyone instantly lost their inhibitions when the glow enveloped them. Robes and masks were quickly cast aside as mouths and genitals merged and within moments the Bradley clan were busy sucking and fucking as in ceremonies passed.

Abigail turned to her mother and brother, smirking at the sight of semen leaking from her mother's quivering vagina and her brothers renewed, pulsing erection.

"Thank you both. The battle would have been lost without you," she said sincerely.

"Are you... human... are you back... here now?" Tara asked.

"I am human right now," Abigail grinned. "I've waited 19 years to be human," she said, glancing down at herself, inspecting her flesh, and smiling as she cupped her large, firm breasts. "Mmm, that does feel good," she grinned, tweaking her thick pink nipples.

Then seeing the questioning looks still on their faces, she explained, "Technically, as far as humans understand it, I was merely a deity, one of countless sacrificed, knowingly and not, by humans over the eons. But now I am a god, and the ruler of the heavens. And one perk of being a god is you can be whatever you want. And right now I want to be human because I've never had a physical body before, not since I died as a human anyway. And I've never gotten to feel what one of these feels like being pushed into your body," the goddess explained, reaching out and hefting her brother's swollen phallus.

"Where is my father?" Abigail questioned in time to see her mother nod to an approaching figure.

"Oh my god, Abigail? Is it really you sweetheart?" Ron Bradley questioned. He couldn't explain how he knew this was his daughter anymore than he could explain all that he'd just witnessed, but he knew it was her, his pureblood daughter that never got to grow up.

Abigail Bradley threw her naked body into her father's waiting embrace and after sharing a deep, loving, sensual kiss, she told her father, "There's so much I need my father to teach me about physical pleasure."

A throaty moan caught their attention, "Mmmm, god baby... yessss! Fuck Mommy."

Father and daughter turned their heads to see Tara on her back and Cooper between her wide spread legs, once again pushing his hugely swollen cock into his mother.

Abigail moaned, biting her lip as she experienced a tremor of purely physical desire for the first time. The divine teen smiled up at her father, wrapping her strong fingers around the obscenely erect tool that created her. "Please fuck me, Daddy," the immortal temptress pouted, pulling her father with her as she lay back onto the altar beside her mother.

Soon the Bradley men, Ronald and Cooper, were lustily fucking the Bradley women; mother and daughter moaning and groaning in delighted pleasure.

Tara and Abigail looked at each other; faces flush, breaths ragged, breasts bouncing as father and son thrust between their legs, rigid familial flesh filling their holy holes again and again and again.

Mother and daughter gazed lovingly upon one another with heavy, lust-filled eyes and smiled, clasping hands, sharing their pleasure, sharing an eternal, ethereal bond.