Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Shortstack Kirlia Have Rights?	By : Tastatura Category: Pokemon > General Views: 65828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This is a fictional story. I do not own Pokemon. I make no money from writing this. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. Love your pal Jesus.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
“Dad, omigosh, why didn’t you answer any of my texts? I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

“Tch, whatever, I’ll just tell you now. Cruz and his family are going to Alola for part of the summer and they invited me n’Aya. I, uh, already kinda agreed, so we can go, right? Aya’s old enough by now, and if it makes a difference, I promise I’ll keep an eye on her when we’re out.”

“It’ll be totally safe! It’d be rude to turn them down with how much Cruz is always doing for us.”

“Pretty please?”

Arthur Selvi was the last member of his family to learn of what was to be his daughters’ first vacation outside of the country. He could very well have been the first or second, but a combination of extended hours at his job and his entrapment within a numbing complacency diverted him from the information until his eldest daughter shoved it into his face.

In his complacency, time had become transient. Months had become years; the summer of Suya’s (and Cruz’s) final year of middle school had arrived, and Aya would soon be taking her first steps into the private academy that he and Kaona had picked out to best suit her talents.

His little girls had aged—gracefully and significantly. Why a sudden request for independence had been required for him to recognize as much was a question that the pre-occupied Ralts couldn’t answer. All the same, Suya’s request pulled him just far enough out of the confines of his mind for him to both accept, and act on the subject as the man who had raised her.

The first question that he posed was ‘why’. Cruz’s father had done as well for himself as he had, but such a sudden and significant reciprocation of generosity struck him as odd. It was certainly true that Cruz, Aya, and Suya got along with one another better than actual siblings did, but again, this did not warrant them spending such a long period away from home without adult supervision.

Suya response to this question was simple and irrefutable.

“You only graduate once, right? Cruz’s parents said they wanted us to do something special before we end up getting old and drifting apart or somethin’. I don’t think that’ll happen, but it is true that we’re probably going to have less time to be together like when we were kids.”

“That’s why I really want to go. Actually, you know what—Aya! Dad doesn’t want to let us go; can you come in here and help me explain how important it is?”

Arthur had been young once. His recollection of the years he had spent as an adolescent was not particularly pleasant—this being because these years had in fact been particularly unpleasant. Still, given what they had culminated in and what had come after them, he harbored no regrets as to their contents.

More so than their enjoyment, Arthur desired the same for Cruz and his daughters: a future without past regrets. They were, after all, getting older. The odds of their doing something…regrettable with one another were slim, but the intimacy that Aya and Suya often directed towards Cruz worried him.

Of course Cruz could be trusted…of course he could. If anything, it was his daughters’ integrity that he doubted.

Like his last concern before it, this one was rebutted just as deftly.

“You don’t have to worry, Daddy; I’ll make sure Cruz and Suya don’t do anything weird. Galar is quite safe relative to the other regions, too. As long as we’re together, nothing bad will happen.”

“It’ll just be a fun thing for us to look back on when we’ve gotten too busy for vacations. Won’t you please let us have something like that?”

Denying Aya’s face (and reason) had never been an easy task for Arthur. Today, though, he was not even granted enough leeway to consider doing so.

Practical as ever, Aya’s made her entrance into the conversation with the knowledge that reinforcements were not far behind.

“I think they should go, dear. I won’t say that I don’t have my concerns about the whole thing, but I’ve spoken with Cruz’s father already and it seems like what they have planned is about as normal as it gets.”

“It’s hard, but I think…I think this is one of those things we have to accept as parents. They’ll always be our little girls, but as far as the rest of the world is concerned, they’ll be adults before we know it. Cruz, too.”

“We have to respect that. Otherwise, we’re no better as adults than the people who raised us.”

Though the loosest of the arguments presented, Kaona’s suggestion hit Arthur the hardest. She knew just as much about the abject traditionalism of their ancestors as he did—what it granted, and what it took away. Even if it were not the case that he was incapable of denying the larger woman her wants, this fact alone made her argument worth sympathizing with.

And so, his hour of resistance ended with relent. To the differently girlish celebration of his daughters and an approving and endearing smile from his wife, Arthur consented to his daughter’s vacation…

This without once speaking to the young man who was to be at its center.

No expense was spared in his doing so, either. It was confirmed by Cruz’s parents that all of the expenses that the trio incurred on the trip would be covered on their end. Nevertheless, Arthur spent the pair of weeks leading up to their departure outfitting his girls with all of the swimsuits and spending money that they would need to have an enjoyable time with one another.

Not one of these things was done from out of the goodness of his heart. Unbeknownst to even him, his motivation for doing so was a desire to spare himself from something unpleasant. He refused to entertain thoughts as to exactly what, but this did not make the steps that he took towards doing so any less ‘grand’.

For a time, his fervor seemed purposeful. The days leading up to Aya and Suya’s departure were among the happiest that he could recall—and truth be told, most all of his days with them were happy. Following their departure, the haze that had numbed him went abated long enough for him to recognize that Kaona seemed happier with him than usual. All signs pointed to his decision being the right one.

A month later—days after Aya and Suya were set to return—reality reminded him that his life was not capable of maintaining such idyllic comforts.

One morning, Kaona stated a desire to have a discussion with him—one that surrounded their daughters’ futures. Innocuous a subject as it seemed, she even went as far as scheduling a time for them to engage one another thoroughly and privately.

Despite his readily agreeing to the discussion and preparing for it, Kaona’s broaching of the subject burned Arthur with an unrelenting despair.

What he had wished to avoid had finally caught up with him. There could be no more excuses, nor efforts made to avoid it…

Only confrontation.
-
THE SELVI HOUSEHOLD KITCHEN—45 DAYS AFTER AYA AND SUYA’S DEPARTURE

Do not meet your wife. Do anything but this—leave if you have to.

Find an excuse. Keep putting it off until you can’t anymore. If you value yourself at all, what you’ve cherished and accomplished, you’ll find a way not to do this.

If you can’t, you’ve already failed.

Mid-stride through the tiled width of his kitchen, words spoken by Arthur Selvi’s heart dragged his mind into a state of non-function.

It was inexplicable. Without a moment’s notice, the familiar discomfort that grated at him each time he was required to have an ‘adult discussion’ with his wife was replaced by a debilitating terror. Sweat burst from the pores of his milky-white frame, and, as if chilled down to the constituent fibers that composed their musculature, his limbs began to shake.

But why?

Frantic, he posed this question to himself over and over again whilst the thudding wriggle of his heartbeat threatened to deafen him to the words that comprised it. Every mental resource still available to his petrified consciousness was poured into deriving an answer, but with time, it became apparent that nothing would come of the effort.

Arthur Selvi desired an answer, but as it turned out, his id refused to subject itself to generating one.

In lieu of an explanation, allowing these symptoms to delay him was inexcusable. In time, they were sure to subside; at worst, he could see to them after he attended to his wife’s concerns. As a man, and more importantly, as a husband, the fulfillment of his responsibilities had to come before the management of his inadequacy and frailty.

If it didn’t, his ‘right’ to his family would disappear.

Emboldened by his conclusion, he continued onward. Reigning his musculature in one painful contraction at a time, he cleared the steps that separated him from the living room’s side entrance and reduced his terrified shaking to a mild tremble.

What effort he expended in this did not go unrewarded. A single step into the living room suggested that the fear and discomfort he had felt was a coincidence. Not a cushion was out of place within the modest expanse, nor was anyone present within it that ought not have been.

As expected, the only person present was Kaona. Seated quaintly up against the sofa corner opposite to one ahead of him with hands convened at her lap, the statuesque Gardevoir reacted to his entrance with a shift of her profile towards his own, and a smile whose warmth was liable to leave a man weak at the knees.

Mere seconds into basking into the glow of his wife’s face and posture, Kaona’s smile melted into an expression of venomously-tinged warmth. Simultaneously, she raised her left hand and gently patted at the couch space directly beside her.

Seeing these, what was to come next played out within his head well before it actually occurred.

And so, his sweating and trembling began anew.

“Hello, dear. You should sit—we’ll both be more comfortable that way.” Kaona offered, sweetly. “Oh, but you’re shaking. You’re not afraid of your wife, are you? Hehe.”

Equal parts fearful and disarmed, Arthur did not respond to her question. Instead, he simply adhered to the request that she had stated prior to it. At the behest of his innards, he dragged his frame from the left side of living room up through a sluggish trudge-and-hoist of his frame up to the couch position that she had marked for him.

Well used to the glaring disparity between their body sizes, he did not pause to acknowledge it. As soon as his child-sized spine was aligned with the couch cushioning behind it, he turned his gaze towards Kaona and shook his head.

“Haha,o-of course not.” he replied, voice strained by discomfort. “I’ll tell you as many times as it takes, Kaona: the way you look doesn’t matter to me. A-As long as your happy and healthy, you could end up Mega-Evolving one day and I’d still find you to be just as cute as you were the day we met.”

Arthur’s words were not platitudes spewed from his throat in an attempt at saving face. Where Kaona was concerned, they were the truth--no matter the extent to which his body disagreed with them. Nevertheless, rather than producing a bashful giggle in response to them or turning her pale features away from his own to hide a mild blush, Kaona met her husband’s adoration with a teasing amusement. The infected warmth in her facial expression grew hotter, and her ‘interest’ in Arthur’s presence grew more physical.

As if to offset their intensification, the larger woman only responded to her husband after sliding closer to his seated position and ‘affectionately’ draping one of her mint green arms around his front from behind, and leaning into his frame from the right in a display of intimacy.

“You always know just what to say to a girl, don’t you, sweetie? I really am so lucky to have ended up marrying you…” giggling sultrily throughout the utterance, she made certain that her gaze was slanted down into a disarming stare at her husband at all times. “What you said actually leads into what I’ve been wanting to talk about as well.”

This time, it was a combination of fear and arousal that delayed Arthur’s response. Though superior to his own, Kaona’s body offered everything that a man could ask for. The weight and warmth of the breast flesh that bared down on his skull from the right made the overripe watermelon of flesh seem capable of consuming him if only its owner wished to. As combined with the comfortable squishiness of her clothed obliques and the gross excess of pheromones that leaked from her frame, avoiding an erection became impossible.

“O-Oh yeah?” speaking without slanting his features up towards Kaona, Arthur did his utmost to remain coherent despite his arousal. “How so? Y-You know I love those two in exactly the same way.”

“I’m not worried about that, Arthur.” Kaona snapped. “I’m worried about our daughters’ futures. There’s still a little bit of time left with Aya, but the fact is that they’re both getting to the ages that we were when we got married.”

“And? T-They’re still our little girls, aren’t they? T-There’s more than enough time for them to f-finish growing before that. Things aren’t…w-well, they aren’t the same as they were when we were young. They might just end up solving that problem for us, rig—“

In the blink of an eye, what subterfuge remained in Kaona’s presence and posture disappeared. She did not move an inch, nor did the smile on her face shorten or sharpen as if to imply displeasure.

But it was no longer there. Of this much Arthur was certain.

“No. That’s not good enough.” Interjecting flatly, Kaona did not allow her husband to utter another word past this point. “I was worried that you might have such a naïve perspective on this, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Our daughters need more from us than a watchful eye—we have to make sure that they have futures better than ours.”

“Or…” briefly, Kaona became distance. For a period just long enough to draw her husband’s eye, her line of sight shifted away from him, and her mind seemed to wander elsewhere. To a place far enough away that a man of his stature could never hope to reach it.

“Better than the one I had at least.” Kaona muttered.

Though produced as a thin exhalation, Arthur heard these words loud and Clear. But, like all of the other whispered grievances Kaona had produced, his mind chose to ignore it.

His wife loved him; anything that suggested otherwise wasn’t something that he needed to pay attention to.

Like this, a stage was for Kaona to continue speaking.

“Anyway! It’s no problem, sweetie. I knew that things would end up this way, so I went ahead and figured out a solution myself.” returned from her brief disappearance, the hollow warmth that she had presented began billowing from her frame two fold. “I hope you aren’t upset—but it really is for the best—we’re all that they have, after all.”

Arthur could not help but to agree with his wife’s reasoning. A panicked confusion consumed his features at the mention of her ‘plans’, yet instead of bowing to it, he nodded in ginger agreement to her words as if they were for the best.

This too was something that Kaona had hoped for. As soon as she laid eyes on his ‘agreement’, the massive Gardevoir rose to her feet and made certain that her husband did so as well. Drawing the arm she had draped around his chest into a firm clasping of his left hand, she afterwards began leading the two of them out of the living room altogether.

As it turned out, the living room was only the first of the ‘destinations’ that she had planned for their conversation.

“…You must be wondering what I mean by that by now, right?” Kaona suggested, footsteps short enough for the child-sized-man at her side to keep pace. “If you are, you’ve played right into my hand again, dear ♥. There is no better way to explain something than to show someone how it works, so I brought this up with Aya and Suya a few days ago.”

“After I explained how important this was for their futures, they were both more than happy to set something up. That’s why you haven’t seen them since they got back; they’ve just been so busy getting ready to show you some examples of how they’d like to spend the rest of their lives!”

Though his mind was busy listening and his frame was busy walking, Arthur found himself with enough ‘sense of self’ to feel lament as opposed to surprise.

The voice within his heart had been right all along…

And still, he had still ignored it.

“…But yes, they’ve been preparing for hours now. Why don’t you open the door and have a look? It’s been so long since they’ve had a chance to surprise you, so I’m sure they must be dying to see you by now.”

These words wrenched Arthur from his stupor and forced his focus back onto reality. Whilst ruing his stupidity, Kaona had led the two of them from the interior of the living room up through to the main corridor of the second floor. In what seemed like no time at all, he had been brought to face a pale pink doorway whose appearance had been etched into his brain for nearly a decade.

It was the second door in the house he had painted without help—the one that belonged to his youngest daughter.

Far too intoxicated to consider what awaited him behind it, Arthur thoughtlessly obeyed Kaona for a second time. Pushing up onto the tips of his toeless feet, he raised both of his hands up into a conjoined grasp of the door knob ahead of him.

Then, he turned it.

Then, he pushed the face of the door inward.

And finally, after all of this, he sank to his knees and bled.

Faced with the room’s contents as they were, his worn frame was without an ‘alternative’ means of handling what sprawled out ahead of him.

Several feet into Aya’s humid, pheromone-drenched bedroom space were Aya and Suya in the flesh. Neither girl was as he remembered them the day that they had left for their ‘vacation’. Save for a matching set of black and whorishly under-cut (and fat-swallowed) undergarments, most all of their pale (and distinctly sweat-greased flesh) sat exposed to the open air. Both pairs comprised of pliant patches of half-palm-width cotton and embedded into the fertile fat of their frames by the daintiest of strings, the garments further accentuated the most ‘perverse’ aspects of their growth. Whereas the overfed bloat of Suya’s breasts resulted in a taut (and woefully insufficient) tenting of fabric atop the aloe-colored-swell of her equally-obese nipples, Aya’s framed her recently-fattened D-Cups such that the flesh surrounding her nipples seemed fuller and puffier.

Much more could be thought about the appearance of the girls’ frames, but Arthur’s mind refused to commit itself to the task. To begin with, their attire was not the most significant ‘difference’ that he recognized in them. Within seconds of his ogling, Arthur’s eyes were drawn to a pair of smooth and identically rounded protrusions at their stomachs.

“Stop fucking slacking you disgusting little brat! Either do a good job or get out of the way so I can!” barked Suya. “I’ll bet your kid is going to have the same shitty IVs you do. The least you can do is help Cruz get off properly while your body is before you have to dump her out.”

“…”

“You’re ignoring me, aren’t you? Fine—you can either listen to me or choke to death like the juvenile pig you are.”

Situated in a kneeling position directly behind her younger sister’s frame, Suya spoke these words whilst manipulating her dollish frame as a form of perverse puppet master. With her left hand, she applied a flat and fingerless pressure to the back of her head. With her right, she angled the fingerless limb’s tip into an invasive fishhooking of the little girl’s mouth.

As implied by her diatribe, the intent behind her efforts was an enhancement of the slovenly tot’s throating of their trainer’s erection. Aya’s efforts up to the point of her interjection were hardly lackluster, this apparent in the fact that Cruz had not involved himself in them. Nevertheless, Suya was of the opinion that Cruz deserved more stimulation than her baby sister’s cock-spread gullet could provide.

Her competitive instincts told her so—and they were always right.

Regrettably, her thoughts on the subject were irrelevant. For months, Cruz had worked to ingrain ‘cooperation’ into their very beings. Thus, no matter how much doing so grated on her or how much of a ‘better job’ she believed herself to be capable of, her sole ‘purpose’ in her current position was that of Aya’s aide.

At least until she caught sight of her father’s frame in the corner of her eye. With this, a second and far less trying task for her presented itself: showing the man who had fathered her what she intended to do with the rest of her life.

“There you are, Dad! You n’mom really took your time talking, huh?” Suya began, features curling away from her trainer’s crotch and over towards her father’s slumped frame. “Mom did say that she’d make sure you made it up here no matter what, but I was getting kinda worried! You’re a real baby when it comes to Aya and I. I was starting to think that the stuff she needed to say to you scarred you away or something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, though. You might be a useless disappointment as a father, but at least you’re man enough to face the truth when someone shows it to you.”

Suya’s plucked another chord within Arthur’s chest, but by this point, the number of disarming experiences he endured no longer made a difference.

Nothing remained in him to disarm or disappointment.

“Anyhow, I don’t have to spell it out for you, right? Suya and decided a long time ago that our lives have the most value as braindead baby-factories for Cruz’s cock. We don’t want to be normal and we never have. If we could, we’d just go back in time, y’know? To the times where humans fucked useless tarts like us until we were of no use and just moved on to ones that were better.” Suya explained, warmly.

“Ah, but what am I even talking so much for? We decided that showing you was the only way to really make you understand, so just keep kneeling there like a loser and watch. We’ll make sure that you understand by the end of it, ‘kay?”

As promised, Suya wasted no further time with words. Straight after her utterance, her attention turned back towards her sister and trainer. Having pinned Suya’s lips at the root of Cruz’s cock—a position that imposed a skin-reddening engorgement of her neck with the young man’s oversized erection and drowned what little air she could pull in off of his crotch with the stench of semen—her first thought concerned whether or not her efforts had actually provided Cruz with more pleasure.

Intent on seeing the ‘difference’ for herself, she ceased her ruthless stamping of the back of Aya’s skull and dragged her mucus-clogged gullet back up along the grossly vascular exterior of Cruz’s erection until only his glans remained plugged between her lips. Indifferent to the copious regurgitations of throatslop and semen that burst from Aya’s nose and lips as she went (segmented flourishes of the milky white substance that left goopy splatters against Cruz’s crotch), the effort’s completion saw Suya’s gaze snap upward into an almost canine stare up at her trainer.

The face that she made was very nearly wholesome. Were it not for the blood leaking perpetually from her right nostril and the vapid emptiness hollowing out her irises, it may very well have passed as such.

“That was better, right Cruz? You liked the way I used Aya’s throat-meat better than the way she was using it, right?” Suya asked, tone desperate for a response that contained a form of approval. “ She’s gotten bigger, but I know it’s still not good enough for you. Pigs have to play nice with each other, so I really really want to help her reach her potential before she gives birth. That way, her daughter can have the best possible example of what it means to be a porcine fleshlight as she grows up ♥.”

Thus far the only individual completely detached from proceedings, Suya’s words worked an approving chuckle out from Cruz’s throat.

Disingenuity remained the foremost quality of Suya’s cooperation, but in the time that had passed since his imposing it, she had gotten much better at presenting it.

This, if nothing else deserved a reward.

“It still sounds to me that you think you’re a slab of meat better than your sister is, Suya.” replied Cruz. “She’s more than capable of working by herself, but yes, you did a very good job complimenting her.”

“Now if only you could do it without squabbling with her so mu—“

*GLRRPP!*

Cruz completed his utterance without abbreviation, but the sounds that accompanied it were overwhelmed by noise from another source. Upon perceiving the first hints of approval in Cruz’s voice, Suya drove her sister’s panting maw straight back down to a gut-wrenching kiss with his crotch. Hilted such that the fattened inner lining of her esophagus was made to stretch, then suckle to the grotesquely rugged exterior of his shaft within seconds of one another, Aya’s slobber-gutted hole produced a single, succinct squelching noise before quietly ‘reassuming’ its rightful state.

Contrastively, the silence heralded by her skull’s forced descent was short-lived.

As quickly as it settled, a consistent chain of *GULK-GLRP-GULRK* noises consumed the bedroom’s airspace with a livid and guttural symphony of sexual noise.

Suya was to blame for these noises. She did not produce them herself, but it was her vehement manipulation of her sister’s skull that saw the individual *links* to the slovenly chain fucked from the smaller Kirlia’s lips. Solely focused on the fact that her efforts had resulted in pleasure for her trainer, she took it upon herself to make use of Aya’s esophagus as an extension of herself. Indifferent to her sister’s physical condition and the fact that she had only recently caught her breath after being pinned ball’s deep at the root of his shaft, she began wrenching and skewering her lips up and down the bulk of his shaft.

Like this, the pleasure that had earned her ‘praise’ in the first place could be replicated. Suya was no expert as to the inner workings of her sister’s frame, but the ‘connection’ that the two shared on occasion provided her with a ‘good enough’ understanding of how to best use her insides as a fleshlight. Whilst enflamed, the squishy compactness of her esophagus became a cock-milking vicegrip whose tautness made for haggard and sluggish strokes of its expanse along Cruz’s girth (specifically in cases where Aya was required to drag her throatmeat herself). If manipulated as a tool by someone with more physical strength than her, this ‘barrier’ could be overcome, and the convulsing sleeve’s qualities could be ground from Cruz’s cock root to its tip within seconds of one another.

Selfishly, Suya imagined that yanking and dunking his sister’s face in this manner offered a brand of stimulation more comparable to what she herself could provide. Per depression of Aya’s lips, the squirming finger-tendril blood vessels coiled and threaded about the exterior of Cruz’s cock could be smothered like sausage meat into a dense sleeve. Per ascent, the congealed pressure that it applied to these same inches could be peeled from their impression against his cock inches in a manner similar to the removal of a sludgy and disgustingly effective bandaid. Minutes spent enduring these sensations in direct sequence to another another—a sensation she could imagine herself as providing—was certain to bring her trainer to orgasm…

And she’d be praised for it. Not her brat sister nor her inanely talented mother, but her and her alone.

Buoyed by the thought, she continually beamed up at Cruz all-throughout the double-handed efforts. Exertion absent in both her facial expression and posture, her expectations for the effort soon coaxed a familiar string of inquiries out from between her lips.

“Hehe, you don’t need to be mean, Cruz. I know Aya and I are just meat, but I at least know how to use my fuckholes better than she does.” she teased, words intertwined with the fleshy plunging noises skewered from Aya’s face. “I’m going to make her an even better toilet for your cock juice, just wait and see. Let me keep gutting her drooling facecunt on your cock like the worthless retard that she is. Dad’ll get an even better idea of what we’re good for if he sees her face at the end of it, too!”

To this, Cruz could only sigh, shrug, and at last turn his attention over to the Ralts still slumped on his knees at the bedroom door. A display of this sort was along the lines of what he had intended to help his Pokemon display, but the blatancy of Suya’s stubbornness made him feel as though the event was becoming much too one-sided.

To rectify this, he planned and executed an interjection of his own.

“Sorry, Arthur.” he bean, words inflected by a jovial sort of remorse. “This was supposed to be something a little more self-explanatory, but neither of ‘your’ kids have been very good at staying focused when a cock ends up in front of them.”

“Oh, but hey, you’re at least not at fault for that—neither of them have any of your genetics to begin with, right? You’ve treated them like princesses and funded their lives, but really, you just paved the way for them to grow up as a pair of warped SEPH sperm-dumpsters who have more ego than they know what to do with.”

Cruz knew better than to expect a reaction from Arthur at this point. Still, he spent the seconds that followed this utterance surveying his obscured features for a change.

In the end, the most significant thing that he observed was a pitiful quivering his lower lip.

“Anyway, the good news is that unlike you, I actually know how to manage them.” Cruz added, wistfully. “It probably won’t do you any good to know this at this point, but the trick to SEPH has always been force. No matter how impressive and intelligent they are, it’s the only thing that animals really understand.”

“Like this.”

Un-invested as ever, Cruz acted without even taking his eyes off of Arthur. Reaching out with his left hand, he squarely fastened it to the back of Aya’s head and shamelessly plunged her skull through to another root-depth hilt along his member. This one backed by far more strength than her older sister could muster, the succinct *GLRSH* produced as his cock was wedged through her sopping throat-pipe was swiftly followed by a muted *BLORT*. Still much too small for the cock that was being pleasured with her innards, the impression of Aya’s lips and nostrils to the exterior of his crotch led the underage SEPH to messily regurgitate a wealth of semen and throatslop onto his crotch through her lips and nostrils.

What fluid volume her stomach lost from the sudden discharge was replaced just as swiftly. Timed to the settlement of her cock-spread esophagus meat around Cruz’s cock came an overdue eruption of cock juice through the sodden organ. Lurched up through his urethra like a pressurized porridge through a pliant tube, the reeking mire wriggled up into an esophagus-basting discharge across the lower reaches of her gullet. Behind the first, messy (and sometimes misshapen) expulsions of the substance nearly as lengthy as Cruz’s forearm and far too thick and discolored to represent ‘traditional’ reproductive fluid, the dense sludge’s compilation within Aya’s depths soon left her frame with a familiar pair of choices: swallow, or asphyxiate.

Naturally, her frame selected the latter. Shamelessly and ardently, Aya’s esophagus gulped down one glutted dollop of cock juice after another whilst a muddled *GLRP~* echoed out from her neck for each one that it managed. This was its purpose; rather, the one that had been fucked into it for as long as it had been pliant enough and lengthy enough to handle her trainer’s cock.

This time, however, it was not required to do so for the entirety of her user’s release. Some seconds after serving its primary purpose, a sudden backwards wrenching of Aya’s skull relieved the organ of its task, and again granted Aya a form of ‘presence’ in the world around her.

Not that it amounted to much. After the slurred retraction of cockmeat through her esophagus and the sodden popping of Cruz’s glans from between her lips, producing speech in the moment became a pipe dream. The most that she managed was a segmented regurgitation of what semen she had already consumed and an orgasmic coo rooted equally in pleasure and utter exasperation.

With this, Cruz went to work making her release ‘purposeful’. Whilst making sure that Aya’s spluttering did not draw her face too far away from his still spurting cock, he reached out with his left hand to take hold of Suya’s skull. Threading fingers into the styled green material that served as her hair, he dragged the larger girl from her position behind Aya to one directly beside her. As soon as the sisters’ torsos were close enough to one another, he mushed Aya’s right cheek up against Suya’s neck, and tilted Suya’s skull ever so slightly downward such that the height at which her facial features were situated would match her sisters.

Suddenly, the combined features of the SEPH females were made into a smiling, blood-tinged canvas for the remainder of his orgasm. Every strand of plaster-quality tapioca that leapt from the tip of his shaft behind this point was delivered between their facial features. As both girls had been made to face his length dead-on, their distribution equated to a dense caking of one side of their profiles and a mild splattering of the other. For several painstakingly lengthy seconds, platted threads of Cruz’s nutrient-fattened swimmers (and the unruly globules flung from them throughout their delivery) clogged their pores, burdened their eyelids into a mild droop, and on occasion rendered the empty whites of their eyes and increasingly pink and painful iteration of themselves.

Cruz had intended this, and spent the remainder of his orgasm ensuring that the dousing of their features became revolting as possible. Just as soon as he was confident that the position he had left their skulls at was sufficient for this end, he sent his left hand back into a vehement choke-pumping of his shaft’s root, and took to angling the sisters’ skulls in towards one another via a single palm placed behind both of their heads.

In doing so, he had his way. When the last chewable burble of nut spurt out onto the ‘ruined’ canvas he had created, neither Aya nor Suya could be seen kneeling ahead of him—only a pair of smiling, bleary-eyed animals content to giggle and smile whilst blood drained from one of their nostrils.

All too aware of the fact that neither of them could do better, Cruz ‘settled’. Finally releasing his still-erect member, he again devoted a hand each to the positioning of the girls’ skull. Forcing their faces off to his left as one might brandish a picture towards someone (and adjusting their kneeling positions ahead of him in the process), he presented the changed pair to the man who had until moments ago believed himself to be their father.

And he sneered.

“So, what do you think, Arthur? Don’t you think they look happier this way?” began Cruz, venomous wistfulness carrying his tone. “You should know best, right? You’ve been raising them for the past decade, haven’t you? I mean, I know I’ve been doing my part, but you’ve still been around them much more than I have.”

Finally, after minutes of pitiable silence, Arthur provided his surrogate son with something that he could work with .

“I-I…t-that…t-they’re …”

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot.” yet again, Cruz interjected with a readiness that suggested Arthur’s stammering was all he wished to hear. “They were just pretending, weren’t they? I told them to do whatever they had to in order to earn your love and trust and they just did it. Psychic type Pokemon really are clever, aren’t they?”

Finally, Arthur’s anger flared. Having been brought to the very lowest point he could recall for himself, Cruz’s latest attempt at driving him down drew ‘fight’ from his core instead of ‘flight’. On his feet, he wiped the blood trickling from his nose and began to stride forward.

“ What you’ve done…who you are…I don’t understand any of it,” he stammered angrily. “It doesn’t matter, though; those are my little girls. I don’t care what you say—I’m not going to let you stand there and treat them like animals!”

For a fleeting instance, Arthur seemed poised to back his claim with something other than emotion. In his anger, the potential embedded within him and all SEPH like him began flaring from his frame in the form of a dull blue hue. Much larger and harsher than his stature might’ve implied, a case could be made for his genetics being far less impotent than his appearance implied.

Of course, implication was the most that he managed. Steps into his seething approach, both his stride and the surge of energy from his frame were snuffed out in their infancy by a pair of arms that embraced him from behind.

Again leveraging her larger stature, Kaona matched her husband’s approach without much difficulty. Just when it seemed that his ingress might amount to something, she descended to her knees and gently pulled Arthur’s back into contact with her chest.

“Maaa, maaa~ Who knew you had such a stubborn side to you, sweetie. Had I known, I’d have spoken to you about what Cruz was doing even sooner.” Kaona exhaled, warmly. “Now isn’t the time for any more of your empty fucking posturing though, okay? You’re speaking to the boy who saved this family—I’m not going to let you make any more trouble for him than you already have.”

Whereas her voice conveyed a caustic displeasure, the sweater-clad Gardevoir’s actions contained naught but warmth. Whilst speaking, she affectionately rubbed her left cheek up and down her husband’s right as a mother might whilst attempting to console a child. More saliently, the grasp she had used to restrain him was devoid of any real force. If he wished, her husband could very easily wriggle out of it…

But he wouldn’t. Rather, he couldn’t; so long as she was present, he’d never think to move against her.

Kaona’s assumption was validated in seconds. Once smothered up against her breasts and dragged into contact with her sweetly scented frame, all of his earlier indignation faded into a distressed urgency. He even spoke out in an attempt at validating it; pointlessly, but he managed the effort all the same.

“B-But the girls…! K-Kaona, you can’t. I-I know what it looks like, but please. D-Don’t tell me this is what you want for them. D-Don’t tell me this is what you—“

“It is. I didn’t feel that way at first, and for a while, I didn’t want either of them doing what I had to do.” Kaona interjected. “But it’s better this way. Before we were born—before Cruz was born, things were exactly like this. We didn’t have to think about how hard life really is, or how difficult it would be for us to live our lives as something that we’re not.”

“Maybe you can’t understand because you’re a male, but for SEPH like us—like Aya, Suya, and even me—it’s the one thing that we’re best at. The thing that we were born to do before anything else.”

“With how gullible you are, you should at least be able to understand that, right ♥?”

Arthur did not understand. He did not want to understand—no happy father in his position would. Still, the tenants of Kaona’s argument framed Cruz and his daughters’ behavior through a much more ‘neutral’ lens.

By the look of the scene ahead of him, the three of them had already forgotten about his presence. With the time he had spent disarmed by his wife’s grasp, Cruz had guided Aya and Suya from their stupefied kneeling position ahead of him into a far more purposeful pair of positions.

After seating himself at the edge of the youngest sister’s bed, Suya was ushered into a perverse half-squat opposite his crotch. Smooth palms braced against her joint-less kneecaps, the position left the sludge-glazed underside of his cock exposed to a tantalizing ascent up the lust-greased bloat of her rear. Contrastively, Aya had moved into a position even more degrading than her last. Pinned back first against the left-side of Cruz’s chest by a barring of his forearm across her neck, the smaller shortstack appeared no less ‘lustfully-enthused’ for the fact that she was being asphyxiated. If anything, she looked happier—or so Arthur’s eyes told him.

In his weakness, Arthur did not think to ask himself ‘how’ the sisters had ended up where they did.

In reality, they were as much ‘to blame’ for their new positions as the young man that had suggested them. For her efforts milking her trainer’s cock with her petite facecunt, Aya had brandished her usual flat-faced stubbornness to coax ‘intimacy’ out of Cruz in the form of suffocation. Similarly, Suya’s position as the ‘supplement’ to Cruz’s prior orgasm spurred her on to ensure that she took the lead position for the next. As Cruz had decided to seat himself, squatting over his crotch like a sow awaiting her seeding was the most effective means of presenting her wants to him.

What little effort the whorish position required of her was validated moments after she slipped into the position. Just as she turned her gaze back towards Cruz to tease her delirious want to him, the sensation of a familiar set of digits sinking into the cloudy fat of her left asscheek sent a narcotic spurt of pleasure rippling up her spine. By the time she managed to fix her eyes on Cruz’s face, the sensation’s impression into her wobbly meat had slid from the center of her cheek to its inner edge. Plumped up to a cock-fattening thickness by a sudden upturn in the tightness applied by Cruz’s hand, the wad of flesh almost seemed as appealing the syrup-spewing lips adjacent to it.

Intoxicating a sight as was set before him, Cruz had not forgotten about Arthur’s rejection of proceedings. If the display his Pokemon had set up was to accomplish anything, he had to be made to understand—even if what remained of him was lost in the process.

To this end, Cruz altered his approach to conversing with him.

“You really don’t get what I’m doing, do you, Arthur?” he exhaled, grinning. “I’m helping them. SEPH were born this way and thrived this way for years before anyone thought that they should be more.”

“Anyway, what do you think, Suya? Maybe if he meets one of his fake grandkids everything will start to sink in a little bit better. That’s what you were thinking when you decided to squat your stupid dumpster of assmeat over my cock, right?”

Excitable to a fault, Suya piped up at Cruz’s suggestion…

But not with words. Wielding her pregnant frame as if it did not carry life within it, she pushed herself onto the tips of her feet and deftly flicked her rear upwards and inwards to better align her exposed mound with the tip of Cruz’s cock. Then, just as she began to feel the humid musk that billowed from its exterior against her lower lips, she sat. Behind a sodden gulping noise produced as her tightened lower lips were spread apart, she thoughtlessly wedged inch after inch of his shaft into a guttural, syrup-laden depression through her vaginal canal until the well-fucked hole had no further ‘depth’ left to give. Swallowing up over half of the rugged pipe in the process, her arrival at the stopping point imposed by her seeded frame drew her upturned eyes into an orgasmic cross, and heralded a second vehement expulsion of her thickened female lubricants out against Cruz’s crotch.

This was the response that her body had ‘learnt’ when faced with the compression of her trainer’s engorged glans against its face: dizzying, cock-soaking orgasms.

Once, these releases had been significant enough to tie Suya’s tongue for the remainder of her coupling with Cruz. Presently, however, they were no more than a pleasurable hiccup to be passed over in anticipation of the next.

Briefly biting into her lower lip to stay its quivering, Suya again angled her face back towards Cruz and trained her eyes on his grinning features.

“M-Mhm, you’re probably r-right, Cruz ♥.” she replied, wistfully airiness soaking her tone with a narcotic quality. “If you fuck my baby out of my tummy, he’ll have no choice but to understand everything c-completely. S-So…”

“Please let me split my sopping meathole on your cock. Beat my squishy SEPH womb so that we can all see the new set of holes I made for you!”

Yet again, a satisfied smirk spread across Cruz’s face. He had hoped that Suya would produce an utterance as impactful as this, but he hadn’t expected the empty-eyed girl to actually manage the task.

Thus, he produced an ‘exceptional’ response all his own. Dragging his palm from the inner edge of her asscheek back across to its peak, he applied a flat pressure to its exterior, and at the same time braced the tips of his toes more tightly against the ground.

Finally, he gored his crotch upwards. Forcing his lower half through a sharply curved ascent after a short retraction, he in doing so plunged the yet-swallowed inches of his cock up into the spurting embrace of Suya’s folds until none remained.

Concluded with a firm *PLORP* that sounded out from her pudgy lower lips as they were made to drool against the surface of his crotch, the noise induced by the murky impression and the pleasure that it sent wriggling through Cruz’s member fished another enthused chuckle from the boy’s lips.

“I think this will go a lot faster if you let me help out, Suya.” he suggested. “Don’t get me wrong; having a squishy onahole that knows how to use herself is nice. I just don’t think I’m actually going to get off if I don’t get to beat up your cervix a bit.”

“I’m sure that’s not what you intended though, right? A drooling piece of SEPH fuckmeat like you would never say no to having her womb gutted by a human, would she?”

Goading and demeaning the SEPH in equivalent amounts, Cruz spoke these words without visible anger or discomfort.

He deemed them to be normal—as much so as pointing out a child’s predilection for sweets or some other juvenile muse.

How she responded to his words was irrelevant. After posing this question to Suya, Cruz again tightened his single-handed grasp on the meat of her lower body. Whilst holding her ass at the hilt depth position he had forced it down to, he messily peeled several inches of his cock out from her folds until a slickened quarter of its vein-root-threaded girth could be seen pulsing beneath her lower lips

This done, he stabbed his crotch upwards for a second time. Abrasively drilling his glans up against the elastic bulk of her cervix-face with even more force, the vehement pushback that the fattened donut fed his greedy pleasure receptors coaxed his frame into reproducing the peeling and thrusting motions that had got him to this point. Palm squarely smothered into the fat of her rear, a voracious, sweat-greased clatter of *PLAT~!* noises timed for each of the ball’s deep impacts of his crotch against her flesh soon consumed the bedroom’s airspace…

Much like the sound of Aya’s throatfucking before it.

Further similarities appeared within seconds of one another. Now relegated to the role of ‘helper’ for her sister’s cunt-rending, Aya worked to spend her time suffocating underneath Cruz’s forearm purposefully.

By her definition, ‘purposeful’ behavior amounted to curving her soulless gaze towards her father, and speaking whilst the shade of her facial features darkened to match the blood dribbling form her nose.

“This is the t-truth, Daddy. No one is forcing Suya and I.” Aya began, voice thinned yet ecstatic. “Being meat for Cruz to breed with is w-what we’re best at; it’s what our genetics w-were made for. W-We’d never be happy growing u-up to be the kind of SEPH you are.”

Impressively, speaking this way did not worsen the quality of her voice over time. In fact, the passage of time saw yet more ecstasy invade her tone.

“I-I’m not as ungrateful as S-Suya, though. You t-took such good care o-of us while Cruz t-trained us to be the b-best fucking pigs we c-could be. And y-you’re gonna keep doing it, t-too. I-I don’t know anyone who is’h as g-generous a-as…”

Finally, chinks became appearing in the smaller girl’s armor. Whereas her mind was happy to suffocate underneath Cruz’s grasp, neither her frame nor the child within it were in much of a hurry to resign themselves to such a fate. Granted as much a ‘say’ in proceedings as Aya herself, their combined defiance worked her fingerless hands into a pointless impression into Cruz’s forearm musculature, and at the same time sent her hips into a fit of stifled wriggling.

Neither of the displays amounted to anything. In the end, Aya made certain that the ‘choice’ regarding what was to become of her remained hers and hers alone. She enjoyed the sensation of Cruz’s abuse, and as such was without a reason to deny herself it.

Thus, she remained. Even as her eyes began rolling up towards the peaks of their sockets and her maw slipped open into a fanged and all-too-ecstatic smirk, she refused to allow herself even an inch of extra breathing room.

Comically, this too did not prevent her from speaking.

“W-Watsh it, D-Daddy ♥.” she hissed, hints of her usual ‘calm’ still audible in her tone. “W-Watch us get our b-babiesh f-fucked out. W-Watcsh u-us give up e-everything t-to be good little b-babymakers f-for Cruz’sh♥.”

“Wat’sh us be what we are!”

In the same way that Suya had goaded her father, so too did Aya go out of her way to antagonize him. Though she did not know it, the amount of attention that her words garnered from the conflicted man paled in comparison to what Suya earned from her bouncing along Cruz’s erection.

Yes, rather than submitting to the half-length thrusts that Cruz smashed between her folds, Suya chose to match them with a destructive metronome all her own.

Enhancing the pummeling of her uterus past what Cruz had already imposed was no small task. To begin with, her seating herself on Cruz’s member and the vicious jackhammering that he committed himself to had rendered her innards’ needy suckling to his member as purposeless. As was so often the case, the congealed tunnel’s skintight smushing to his girth’s exterior—from its livid veins to the engorged mushroom that threatened to pierce her wriggling cervix at any moment—could not be maintainable whilst Cruz drove it in and out of her. For as few inches as he withdrew from her, their departure disengaged her folds’ pressurized tightness and left them to sputter and slobber against his meat as it was wrenched from their depths.

Try as they certainly did to maintain their impression on his length all the way through, this was not what they were suited for. Like the insides of her innumerable SEPH ancestors, Suya’s innards were best suited to the role of a squishy, cock-sucking punching bag for human cock—provided the cock in question was used properly, of course.

Given that contending with the nauseating pace of Cruz’s thrusts by way of force or cock-milking pressure was impossible, Suya again defaulted to ‘repetition’ as her contribution to proceedings. Rather than moving contrarily to Cruz’s thrusts, she met each and every breakneck spike of his crotch with a downward flog of her rear. Flicking her hips downwards and wiggling her hips ever so slightly to match her screwing, the ‘appearance’ of her efforts quickly took on a manic depravity unattainable by a female with a functioning sense of self.

The only women capable of messily splitting their lower lips with a cock thicker than their own arm—much less whilst pregnant—were women senselessly (and happily) devoted to the pleasure of their partners. For Suya, this happy devotion could be found in the fanged smile that she sported whilst bouncing and the sweaty exertion demanded of her by the squat that she had assumed.

Not only had she welcomed her position, but she was utterly content with it…

Cervix rending abuse and all.

“I-It’sh so g-gooood. G-Getting fucked like aw-worthless animal feel’sh s’ho good ♥!” threaded into between the ceaseless *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* of Cruz’s crotch against the meat of her ass were verbalizations of the happiness that Suya felt. Each delivered in a voice warped by strain and stimulation, their reverberation through the bedroom’s airspace chiseled away at her remaining dignity shard by jagged shard.

“SEE-DADDY?-T-THIS-IS-WHAT-A SEPH-IS ♥.” eventually, the pace of Cruz’s rutting began segmenting her utterance into their constituent words. None of their quality was lost, but the happening itself suggested that Cruz was fucking the buxom Pokemon’s mind as actively as he was her jiggling. “WE’RE MEAT ♥; S-STUPID-DISPOSABLE-SLABS-OF-IT~!”

“S’SHO-SMILE~! SMILE-W-WHILE-THE-MEAT- YOU-RAISED-GET’SH-FUCKED-INTO-GIVING-BIRTH~!”

In her heart—or what amounts of it remained accessible by her altered mind—Suya genuinely hoped that her faux father would be able to come to terms with reality. Not for his own sake; his happiness and comfort were subjects that she had never bothered herself with to begin with. What she desired from his recognition was further cementation for the choice that she had made.

The recognition that only a father could give a daughter.

Obtaining it did not mean the world to her. Cruz meant the world to her; everything else could be classified as something that she’d happily disregard for his sake. Nevertheless, she desired it enough to launch taunt after taunt at the man whilst engaging in an especially deep form of ‘twerking’ atop her trainer’s member.

What was more, she managed these things whilst her female organs were pushed closer towards birth thrust by lubricant-glazed thrust. By applying herself to Cruz’s pleasure as she had, the periods of time that her cunt spent in a state that was not a choked clamor to the exterior of his member were shortened to a point of irrelevance. As she had intended, contending with the unrelenting aggression of Cruz’s thrusts was no longer an issue. Moving in time with him allowed her squirming folds to apply their loosened constriction against his phallus’ writhing veins, and soon enough reminded her cervix of the ‘role’ that it was to play in his stimulation.

Smothered downward by Suya’s hip flicks and tented further upwards by the nose of Cruz’s glans each time a sloppy *PLORP!* was slapped from off of its owners asscheeks, the thus-far-sealed organ began to loosen…

It remembered. It had taken several minutes of senseless fucking to jog its memory, but the ‘purpose’ that it existed to complete at last began to influence proceedings.

Milking Cruz’s cock for his seed was all it was good for; whether or not an infant was inside her womb didn’t matter.

Thusly, it played its part. Amidst the manic coupling shared between Suya and Cruz, the former’s cervix began dilating, and soon enough suckling to the foremost inches of the cock responsible for its abuse. Wedged further apart fractions of an inch at a time, the uterus-scalding cockmeat thus far warded off by the donut’s well-fucked exterior ebbed into the ring’s inner surface and ‘reintroduced’ itself to its meat in a manner so mind-numbingly pleasurable that her frame was forced to take action when faced with it.

Just as the puffy ring was spread to match the fist-like girth of Cruz’s member, Suya’s trampoline twerking came to an end. Though Cruz’s thrusts continued unobstructed after the fact, Suya did not move her rear from out of the cock-smothering ‘seat’ she had assumed atop his crotch.

Not long after her chained ascents and descents came to an end, another heavy expulsion of sticky cunt syrup was ejected out against Cruz’s crotch. Stirred and swirled by the boy’s continual thrusts to the tune of a sewage quality *PLORP-PLATTCH-PLORP*, the release’s quality seemed of a thicker and heavier variety than Suya had produced prior.

No additional pleasure showed on the SEPH’s face, however. From the re-assumption of her seated position right up to the end of her orgasm, her gaze had sat upturned towards the ceiling, and her facial expression became locked into the projection of a narrowly ‘o’-mouthed disbelief.

This was not the expression of a SEPH overwhelmed and enthralled by the basal desires that defined her. Really, what it was could be argued. Astonishment, fear, a dread bereft weight or emotion; all of these things qualified, yet all of them failed to properly encapsulate it.

Coincidentally, the individuals best placed to ‘take in’ the expression stood entirely aware of how best to describe Suya’s expression. Whereas Kaona had once produced a similar expression herself, Arthur had twice seen it bloom and persist across his wife’s face:

This was the expression of a young woman moments away from giving birth.

-

THE DANGERS OF DREAMING

Shortly after Aya was born, Arthur entertained numerous thoughts about the experiences that he might share with his wife and daughters. He did not go as far as meticulously routing their immediate futures or stringently attaching himself to what he imagined to be ‘best’ for them. Support and guidance were the responsibilities of all good parents, but as SEPH—worse still female SEPH—there could be no greater harm done to them than attempting to control their lives.

No—his daydreams were of a far more wistful nature. He imagined himself taking both girls to school, helping them study, seeing them off to post-secondary education, and one day seeing them married. Far more idly, he imagined himself as being present when his grandchildren were born. Perhaps not directly, but close enough to support and congratulate them after the fact.

As his daughters grew and his wife matured, these thoughts went untempered. He had every reason to be optimistic about them. No longer was he required to live life as a sullen realist ever aware of his insufficiencies. With two daughters, a wife, and occasionally a son that he could always rely on, wistfully dreaming about the future at last became something that he could do unhindered.

Not once in any of these dreams did he imagine his eyes being glued to his eldest daughter’s cunt as the skull of an infant crowned at the semen-caked orifice’s mouth. Seeing orgasmic splatters of lubrication launched from his youngest’s lower lips as she struggled with the expulsion of her own child was another outlier. That either girl would find a partner so early on into their lives, or for that matter, choose to start a family with this person was unthinkable.

To this stage in their lives—the stage at which he became aware that the girls were not his own—Arthur had failed to cross many of these idle daydreams off of his ‘to do’ list. When the beginning of Suya’s birth contractions began playing out ahead of him, the ‘shape’ that his reality had taken on left him with no other choice but to accept that he never would.

Still squatted, the placid ‘stun’ visible across Suya’s face became an overfucked sneer at a moment’s notice. In time with the transition, her hands snapped down into an affectionate clutching of her bulbous midsection and her narrowly parted lips spread into a fang-grit sneer that those who laid eyes on it were unlikely to forget.

“NMMMMGUUUGH♥♥ S-SHE’SH CUMMIN’ M-MY BABY’SH C-CUMMING♥♥!”

As she howled this for all those present within the bedroom to hear, something else arrived well before her daughter could begin her descent. Lost to the orgasmic euphoria of birthing that had once crippled her species with addiction, she failed to recall the fact that the boy who had pushed her to this state was not yet finished using her frame.

The wave of pleasure induced by her daughter’s downward motion within her womb became a sensation sullied, and consequentially enhanced by the discharge of a lengthy and impressively dense jizz strand out against the face of her cervix. Neither a fluid nor solid, the thread of chewable plaster utterly obscured the enflamed flesh-button with only a fraction of its volume. In lieu of the surface area that it required to be distributed ‘cleanly’, its compaction against itself produced a wet *GLRP* loud enough to be heard at Suya’s midsection as it occurred. On quality alone, it sounded as though her insides were attempting to drink down its contents and failing miserably at the task.

Were this the sole blurt of seed to be plastered inside of her, one could safely assert that Suya’s womanhood had received the seeding that it deserved. Of course, it wasn’t. Before the contents of Cruz’s first strand could settle in its layered coagulation atop her cervix, a second eruption of seed turned the confined pocket of sludge into a flesh-teasing swamp of semen-entrapped swimmers. Following the second was a third, and behind it a fourth; all within fractions of a second of one another. Gifted with the same flesh-staining excess as their predecessors, their addition to the cock-smothered volume of semen within her eventually demanded more space than her occupied innards could hope to provide.

With each grotesquely dense outflow that followed, this demand grew more hoarse and severe. For a veritable eternity of seconds, the congested slushing of semen against itself within Suya’s womanhood went unanswered. Until the ‘excess’ volume of the substance was made to explode from out of her lower lips in a stuttered regurgitation of chewable cock-paste, the opposing ‘forces’ within her gut (these being Cruz’s spewing erection and the child pushing downward against her cervix) seemed too stubborn to allow the other any sort of advantage.

It was at this point that Cruz was forced to do something other than enjoy himself. Feeling Suya’s folds drowned under the weight and mass of his seed whilst an entirely different force weighed down on the tip of his cock, his instincts demanded that he retreat lest Suya somehow make an even more unrepentant whore of herself. Again did he mash his dominant hand into the pliant meat of her ass as a form of handle, and again did he forcibly press her floored folds back up towards his rigid flesh-trunk’s tip. Ignoring the splutters of semen that burst from her depths throughout, he did not stop until the most bloated fraction of his mast slipped from her folds to the tune of a hideously messy *PLORP*.

At this, he sighed aloud. The exhalation itself was forgettable; relative to the noise induced by a softball-sized (and shaped) discharge of nut splattering out onto the floor from the inside of Suya’s womb, it may as well not have occurred.

The words that he produced after the fact were completely audible, however.

“Letting your insides get bloated with cock juice again before you even give birth doesn’t make any sense, Suya. Are you so afraid of your daughter being better than you that you’re willing to drown her before she’s even born?” Cruz inquired, grinning. “Either way, you’re still responsible for raising her, so the least you can do is birth her properly…”

Seemingly incensed and yet somehow not, his admonishment of the squatting Kirlia ended with an outward extension of the same hand that had been used to peel her rear upwards. This time driving the limb upwards across the length of her frame, he left his knuckles to sit opposite her left cheek before outstretching his index and middle fingers.

Seconds later, both digits were pushed through a curled ‘hook’ into the same corner of the Kirlia’s mouth. Purposed precisely as their appearances implied, Cruz pushed his index finger upward and his middle finger downward to perversely expose the interior of Suya’s mouth.

Though intended as a form of reprimand, Suya herself could have cared less about the act. After the vacation of Cruz’s cock from her cunt, her mind could only focus on one thing: the expulsion of the child that Cruz had fucked into her.

As such, she held her squat and willed her frame through precisely this. As best she could, she contracted the interior of her womanhood at intervals timed to wriggling motions that her unborn child produced. In doing so, she squished her progress further down through her dialated cervix until she could finally feel the beginnings of the little girl’s warmth mushed down into the confines of her seed soaked vaginal canal.

Past this milestone, she demanded yet more effort from herself. In her mind, the ‘hard’ part of her orgasmic release was already over. What remained was a sprint to a ‘finish line’ more satisfying than any she had touched thus far. With this in mind, she disregarded the will of her daughter and began consistently clenching down on her frame to see her body mass voided as quickly as possible.

To cope with the blended pleasure and pain that assaulted her, she smothered her palms more tightly into the frail mass of her kneecaps, and allowed further slackness to overtake her mouth. As had been the case with her twerking atop Cruz’s member, she traded what little dignity her position afforded her to see the task she had taken on completed more efficiently.

“h’sh hllipin’ awn ♥. (She’s slipping down).” Suya cooed. “ Ah hew ‘raud a me Cruz’sh? –aym hivin’ bir’sh ‘here every ‘n ‘eee (I’m giving birth where everyone can see!)”.

Unbeknownst to her, these words only had a moderate effect on the man that they had been intended for. Whereas half of Arthur’s attention remained firmly fixed on his eldest daughter’s disfigured facial expression and squirting lower lips, the other half was firmly held on the delivery effort of his youngest.

Unlike her sister, Aya used her basal distractions to her advantage. Not long after Cruz’s balls began splattering his fattened reproductive sludge against her sister’s womb, the stimulation that she derived from her suffocation exceeded her tolerance for it . Already in the midst of her own birthing contractions, the wild expulsion of cunt-syrup that burst from her as a result served to lubricate her daughter’s descent even further. Rather than dwelling on the sensation, she used its occurrence to push and squeeze against her daughter’s body mass as much she could.

So ardent was her effort that, in spite of her reddened facial features and the desperate groans that slithered from between her fangs, her child began peeking through her lower lips before Suya’s. Though the ultimate difference in their breeches was only a matter of seconds, this gap resulted in Aya’s birth becoming the first that Arthur truly focused on.

In its own way, Aya’s display was also the more impactful of the two. Putting aside the fact that her tiny body was somehow discharging a tiny life of its own, Aya’s suffocation left her incapable of squealing out as her elder sister had. Consequentially, the other ‘defining features’ of her birth, these being the blood streaming from both of her nostrils and the abject lifeless visible in her eyes, were accentuated to the point of irresistibility.

Arthur did his utmost to mitigate her expression’s scarring of his mind, but per usual, his efforts ended in abject failure. Even as his eyes began to track his ‘granddaughters’ slick descent from Aya and Suya’s innards, it was the first configuration of Aya’s facial features that festered within his mind as the most salient portion of the event.

In the moment, his mind—or perhaps the withered husk that remained of it—regarded the image as validation for the lunacy spouted by those who had pushed him to this point. If his youngest, the reticent angel that reminded him so much of the woman that he had married, was willing to embrace an ordeal that forced such an expression to disfigure her face, perhaps this was what was best for her.

Perhaps she was the sow that she professed herself to be; a developing slab of disposable meat meant for this purpose, and this one alone.

Without arguments to the contrary (or any sort of desire to find them), this conclusion was granted license to root itself into the loamiest and most fertile ‘space’ within his mind.

No sooner was it implanted was further validation heaped atop it. Mere seconds after his ears were made to consume the sound of a pair of fetuses colliding into a puddle of sexual fluid, his wife’s voice drew his attention away from his daughters’ depraved figures and back onto her.

Awaiting his eyes after their sluggish crawl towards her line of sight was a sneer so wide, so self-satisfied, that its presence seemed to mock his very existence.

“How does it feel to be a grandfather, sweetie? I know how long you’ve wanted this, so I’m sure you must be absolutely ecstatic right now.” Kaona teased. “You really will have your work cut out for you from now on, though. Our family is so much bigger now; being a grandfather and father at the same time won’t be easy.”

“Especially considering…”

Midway through her utterance, Kaona released her embrace of his frame and slid just out of contact with him. Situated far enough to seamlessly guide her arms in towards herself, she took hold of the lower hem of her sweater with both of her hands and began drawing the garment up her torso at a teasingly slow pace.

The reason for these movements became apparent shortly afteerwards. Like his daughters’ birthing sessions, Arthur attended to Kaona’s actions as though he had no other choice but to. First onto her hands, then onto the fabric of her sweater, his tired eyes fixed themselves on every major focal point of the act until only one remained,

Underneath Kaona’s sweater was her midsection. There, as opposed to the fat padded abdominal section and slanted hip curvature he had become accustomed to, was a taut, dome-like bulge.

It was familiar. The sight of it made Arthur recall a morning he had spent with Kaona years prior. She had been strangely quiet and fidgety, and when questioned as to why, she had pulled up in her shirt in a display of frustration.

She had been pregnant.

She was now, too.

“You’re going to be a ‘father’ again soon, too ♥. She’ll be counting on you to give her everything that she needs to grow up into the SEPH she should be, so keep working hard, okay?”

No matter how empty, how mutilated by circumstance he became, Arthur could not find it himself to cast off the role that had defined him. Thus, though his words and emotions had long since failed him, he responded to Kaona’s desires as he believed a man ought.

He nodded.

And he smiled.
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shortstack Kirlia Have Rights?