Chapter One - Family Reunion

It felt right as my younger sister, Anne, slowly sliced off my left nipple. The pain was intense and I was screaming wildly, even if I knew this was barely the start, but that wasn’t important part. What mattered was doing things together as a family - it made them special.

Why was today so significant? A few years back Anne and my mother fell out. It was one of those stupid rows that somehow escalates out of all control. I know my mum had been expecting Anne to follow the family tradition and ask her eldest daughter to oblige for one of dad’s birthdays, but I still don’t think she was that upset when it turned out Anne was letting her appear in a school show. Maybe if Anne had handled things better it could all have been avoided, blowing right back up at mum certainly didn’t help smooth things over.

Anyway the upshot of all that was them both practically ignoring the other’s existence, with me and dad stuck in the middle trying to keep things together. So Dad had to sneak off to see Anne’s Tina in the show, while I ended up eating two meals every time there was a clash of party dates. I was getting fat, their dinners clashed suspiciously often.

It was dad’s idea to get them both to the tennis club’s annual ball, one of those masquerade affairs. Dad’s plan worked like a charm. By nine o’clock we had them both, totally oblivious, blindfolded and tied together in a sixty-nine. When Anne and mum found out who they’d been licking out for the last half hour they both furiously tried to leave, forgetting how they were bound to each other. There’s nothing like having your piercings half ripped out to get you hollering. We left them to it, the sound of howling and squabbling following us down the corridor.

What can I say? Dad always comes up with a winner eventually. When we came back an hour or so later they were chatting happily as though nothing was ever wrong, they even dived back in for a quick one when they saw us coming to release them.

So here I am, the star of our first proper family party in ages. It was really nice to see Anne and mum working together again as they tied me down. Anne’s made a lovely job of getting me spread, that’ll teach me to tell my little sister I don’t like people seeing how knackered my cunt is.

Anne’s finished cutting now. What’s she saying?

“There you go Stacey. That should stop you flaunting those perky little tits at me.”

****

That’s right, my name’s Stacey. Bubbly brunette (or brown as my husband always insists) thirty-four (again) and mother of three. That ‘thirty-four’ really is a lie, thirty-nine is more accurate, but I’m in pretty good shape for someone this close to forty, just a touch more ‘comfortable’ in the tummy and bottom than I was twenty years ago. And yes, my boobs are damn perky, especially when you consider there’ve been three babies hanging off them. It’s not my fault Anne’s already hang down like a pair of used condoms, she shouldn’t let her husband have so much fun with them. So that’s me, just a pretty normal suburban housewife.

How about those three children then? Jane, Matty and Lisa…

Jane, the sex-mad exhibitionist. To be fair her body wasn’t designed to be hidden. Tall and slim, but with enough curves to let you know she’s not a boy. Even when little she had a bum that looked good enough to eat, when she started growing hips she couldn’t turn round without finding a man standing behind her looking down. Not that her front was anything to be ashamed of. Maybe not huge tits, but pretty good for her build - and a lovely innocent face that hid an exceptionally guilty mind.  I don’t know where her blond hair came from, no-one on either side had anything more than a light brown.

Then Matty.  I think he’ll turn out fine, although he’s still a little bit chubby. Just a touch shorter than his older sister (Jane’s height is another mystery, she towers over me and it’s not even as if her father’s that tall), but with a good stocky athletic build. He’s keen on rugby, which should stop him running to fat (a problem his father would suffer from if I let him). You’ll probably want to know how much of a man he is where it counts - let’s just say there’s no problem there.

And finally Lisa, my baby and favourite child (if I had one, which I obviously don’t). She really does take after me, right down to a noticeable lack of height and a figure of feminine curves. Also, like me growing up, she’s tended to be a bit shy, but if you look past her blush you can’t help noticing the growing hint of naughtiness in her eyes. Most importantly, she’s lucky enough to have got my hair

Despite the way Brian (that’s my husband) tends to dismiss it as brown, I do have a lovely head of hair, a silky light-almond - cut so it flows over my shoulders when I let it loose. Jane and Matty didn’t get so lucky. Matty got a scrubby almost-black like his father and, while Jane may have turned out blond, it was pretty thin next to mine and Lisa’s. At least Jane’s bush matched the blond on her head (as just about anyone could tell you). I wish my pubes matched, but they don’t. On top of that, if I’m not trimming down there regularly there’s soon a solid ebony mat,  blooming like a virgin rainforest, spilling out from my crotch.

****

That made me giggle a little, there’s certainly nothing else virgin about me. Like most girls I lost my hymen on my eleventh birthday, and I can’t say I was sorry to see the damn thing go. Unlike Jane, who made us hire the local hall, I was still rather shy back when I was a virgin, so I’d have been happier getting deflowered - screaming round a massive cock (well it felt massive to my unused pussy) - without all my family watching closely. For me it  wasn’t the best experience, but despite my embarrassment I did learn one important lesson. Seeing all the men of my family (and the women who weren’t helping them) getting off on my suffering gave me a clue to how much pleasure I could give.

I was damaged pretty bad by my deflowering (turned out that cock really was pretty big) and it was a few months before anyone got inside me again. When I did it seem to lack the excitement of that first time. It wasn’t that I objected to the amateur fumblings I occasionally had with the boys in my year, but it did feel like there was something missing. I’d had a glimpse of what I was needed on my birthday, I just hadn’t realised it yet. At least the boys seemed happy getting inside me, and after we began proper sex lessons they did start to get better.

Not being noticed much at school meant I was nearly fifteen before I had a throbbing pole in my backside. Most girls had the sense to get buggered, at least for the first time, in private. I still don’t understand how I managed to get into a bet with Matt Jameson. Haven’t seen him since school, all I remember is this huge shock of sandy hair and a penis that curved up at the end like a hockey stick. I wasn’t one of the girls who showed-off at school, even in sex practicals I’d managed to be quite discreet. Now, for my first time at sodomy, I was bent naked over a vaulting horse with half the school watching me. Again I can’t say having a virgin hole taken wasn’t torment, but it gave me another pointer towards the pleasure I could give.

It wasn’t something I worked out immediately. Certainly not that evening, walking home, red-faced, with dribbles of shit and blood running down my thighs.

****

Well, that’s my nipple gone. Anne’s feeding it to me. It’s bloody hard to chew and scream. She’s yanking at my breast so I can see the damage. Yes Anne, I get it, it’s not looking so perky now, not with all that fat and blood oozing out of it.

That’s Lisa, my youngest, walking up. I haven’t seen her pussy since she was deflowered when it was still bare and smooth, seems my baby got her mother’s bush. I thought for a moment Lisa was trying to cover herself, but that’s not what those fingers are doing. Not even taking her hand away as she kneels beside me!

Did she just call me a fat cow before she took my remaining teat in her mouth? Shit, I’m howling again, she’s biting down hard. Of course she’s panting and moaning. I set her the example with Jane, and she seems to have learnt it well.

****

“Jane I need to have a word.”

“Can’t it wait mum? I need to go and lie down, who knew being pregnant was so tiring?”

Every mother ever, obviously, but I didn’t want to start an argument with her. This conversation would go much easier if we didn’t start with a row.

“I wish it could.” I told her. “But this is quite important. Actually, it’s about your being pregnant we need to talk.”

Jane was my eldest, just nineteen at the time, and, being eight months gone, very obviously pregnant. The father could have been anybody, she’d never been a shy girl like me. While Lisa’s muff was a revelation, Jane’s appeared nearly every day (usually filled with at least one dick or tongue). Even I had lapped its juices at a couple of parties.

“I wasn’t planning on keeping it.” Jane began. “There’s loads of people who’ll happily have it off me.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” I explained. “But you do know it’s your grandfather’s sixtieth in three weeks?”

“I didn’t know grandad was into that.” Jane didn’t seem surprised, but then my father was well known for living life to the full. “If it’s a girl, of course he can have it, but I probably won’t have dropped by then.”

Jane did look a little nervous when she mentioned giving birth. I knew she wasn’t into pain, just lots of cock, or pussy if she’d used up all the cock. After she started fucking we’d always found her a bit of a handful, but she was a good child underneath. At any rate I didn’t think she’d really object to the suggestion I was about to make.

“That’s okay, it wasn’t the baby I was thinking of.. Your father was suggesting that grandad had you for his birthday party.”

My precocious daughter looked unexpectedly cheerful at this. Given what I’d just ask, I was disconcerted by how smoothly things were going. That was, until she spoke.

“Of course I’ll shag grandad. I’ve had dad and Matty.” Yes, I named our son after that Matty. “Does he have a thing for preggos? Do I need to keep my legs crossed?”

I half-considered not explaining - letting it come as a surprise - after such a dim response. Jane was nineteen not nine, though even at nine I’d have been a little disappointed. We’d sent all our children to a good school, and made didn’t try to hide the facts of life from them at home. Jane couldn’t really think a quick fumble with a girl, even if she was pregnant, would be a decent highlight for a major party? I didn’t keep quiet though, I’m not that sort of mother.

“Up to a point. You do need to stay pregnant.” I hesitated, picking my words carefully, if my daughter was being slow I needed to spell things out clearly. “Your grandad’s always wanted to snuff a girl in labour, and I thought you’d be willing to oblige.”

A normally talkative Jane looked stunned at this. If I’m honest, more stunned than I’d hoped. When she spoke at last it was a slightly unexpected question.

“What if I’m not in labour on his birthday? I’m not due ‘til a week later.”

That was an easy first question at least

“That’s not a problem.” I assured her. “We can just whack you with some drugs to induce.”

I waited for her next question. She was pausing, getting her head round things.

“Do I have to do it? I’ve never really wanted to be a pain-slut.”

“Of course you don’t darling, but just your grandad would love it, and he’s not getting any younger. You know it would make your father proud, and me.”

Jane stopped to consider, actually think this time. I took that as a good sign, she was generally sensible if given a bit of space.

“I suppose I can.” she answered, not too reluctantly. “Will it have to hurt a lot?”

It might have been nice to mislead her, just for the added frisson of her face dropping when she realised how bad it was. On the other hand we hadn’t lied to children before, and this didn’t seem like the time to start.

“Of course it will.” I explained. “It wouldn’t be much of a snuff show without it. Your grandad came five times when we snuffed my Aunt Julia, and she wasn’t even pregnant.”

“That was your first snuff party wasn’t it Mum?” Jane asked. That surprised me, I’d forgotten telling her about it. “You were pretty young, weren’t you? Is Lisa going to be at mine, she must be about the same age?”

At that point I relaxed, Jane seemed to have decided to do it. After her initial reluctance I felt a wave of pleasure. Just the thought of the thrill everyone would get from seeing her young body smashed was making me wet, I’d probably have volunteered to join my daughter if she’d asked.

Instead I gushed, “Of course she will love. She’s fourteen, I wouldn’t want her to miss her big sister’s snuff party.”

“And she will be joining in?” Jane pressed me.

I was delighted. While she might have been reluctant at the start, now that she’d agreed to be snuffed, Jane wasn’t wasting time worrying about her decision. Instead she was making sure her little sister wouldn’t miss out. I knew Jane was a good daughter, and a good sister. She and Lisa might bicker most of the time, but when it counted they’d look out for each other.

“I tell you what.” I suggested. “Lisa and I could start things off by both biting through your nipples. Then there’ll be a constant stream of milk dribbling down all through the show.”

I wondered if I’d pushed too hard, Jane’s hands had unconsciously covered her swollen boobs, but she’d been quite relaxed when she answered.

“That sounds okay mum, and it would be really good for Lisa. You know she always starts off a bit shy. It’ll be good for her to be right in the middle of things.”

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.