Title: Jumping Hotdog's The Williams of Ashington Lane
Author: Jumping Hotdog
Keywords: mf, Ff, Mf, mg, inc, ds, nc, tg, mc
Summary: James Williams has a strange life. Whether he is dealing with an 
older sister out to mind-fuck him, a mother who thinks he has the 
completely wrong set of genitalia for witchery, a father with psionic 
powers or a little sister who's the strangest of the lot, Ashington Lane is
never a normal place.

Copyright Jumping Hotdog

Email comments to JumpingHotdog@Safe-mail.net

These stories are fantasy. If it is illegal for you to read them, please do
not do so. For those who can read legally, please enjoy your stay

Web version here: 
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/JumpingHotdog/www/TheWilliamsOfAshingtonLane.html

                                    ~#~                                    

   My eyes drank in the goddess who hung above me.

   "That's right," she said in a husky whisper. "Breathe deep."

   I did and her scent swirled in my mind. It was hot, and spices crackled 
among my synapses. My cock thrust into the air, so hard it hurt. I bucked 
my hips on raw instinct. The goddess denied me contact. She knelt over me, 
one knee on each side of my head, and the heat from her sex almost scolded 
my lips.

   "You're mind's falling away," she said, words and scents swirling in my 
brain. All I could think of was her sex, my cock and all the devilish 
things they could do when combined in inventive ways. I moaned and groaned 
and tried to rise but she stopped me. She lowered her sex, rubbing the 
juicy lips along my face.

   "You're mine," she said, words breathy. "Taste me. Taste me."

   I tasted her. I thrust out my tongue, drawing it along her sex. She was 
wet, very wet, and if her scent was magic, this was liquid adrenalin. I 
attacked her sex, no technique, just a wide powerful tongue in all the 
right places. Every inch of my mind and body screamed with the need to 
please her. She was a goddess and this was her due.

   She groaned at my ministrations and rolled her hips, grinding her sex.

   "Toy," she said, eyes shut. "Mind fucked, fuck toy. Come on James. Be 
mine. Just a little more. Drink deeply. Little mind like clay."

   I drank and drank, working to pleasure her with all my power. All the 
time my cock burnt with denied need, but with a goddess such as her, that 
hardly mattered. She mattered. Only her. Now and-

   Something stirred within my mind, something hard, something resilient, a
kernel. I stopped moving, frozen in place.

   "No," moaned the goddess. "Keep going. Don't stop. I order you to keep 
going!"

   The command sunk through my spice charged brain but stopped at the 
kernel. The kernel resisted. The kernel rose up in a psychic tide and I 
rose up with it.

   With a half scream, half moan I threw the goddess off me. Only she 
wasn't a goddess. It was my sister, sixteen year-old Becky Williams. She 
stared up at me, the control and confidence of her ice blue eyes gone and 
shattered. Her control over me was gone too and she knew it, her alchemic 
pheromones wiped away by my rising psionic power. I grabbed her shoulders 
and pushed her to the bed with a dull thud, my weight holding her in place.

   "James," she said, a catch in her voice. "Think, be reasonable."

   I growled. My cock still throbbed with blood, and her sex, no, her cunt,
looked like the perfect sleeve. The lips were red and ready with 
stimulation. In her current state she would refuse me nothing, but that 
wasn't enough. I couldn't just take. After what she did to me, she needed 
to beg.

   The kernel blazed at the core of my being, super charging my brain. In 
that moment it was almost too easy to force my thoughts out of my skull and
into my sister's brain.

   Need, I sent, need for cock. Slut. Toy.

   "Oh God," she moaned and it was her turn to thrust her hips. Raw lust 
streamed from her every pore, a mind-altering alchemical cocktail. It 
showed in more mundane ways too, dilated pupils, flushed skin and burning 
need to touch and be touched. "Please." The word dripped with longing.

   I gave her what she wanted.

   With a single brutal movement I sank into her, balls deep. She screamed 
as I took her and not just physically. As I pistoned in and out of her meat
body, I raped her mind.

   Slut, whore, masochist, I thrust each sequestrative meme into her head. 
She bucked under me, the perfect fuck-toy, and right then that was all I 
wanted. I fucked her body and fucked her mind, again and again and again. 
And then it all became too much.

   With a groan I spent myself inside her. Hot cum shot into her sex and 
the walls of her cunt spasmed around it, milking me dry. With our minds 
linked, she exploded too. Our orgasms fed off each other, like a great 
pendulum that swung back and forth. My pleasure crashed into her and then 
hers into mine. I felt my blazing cock in my clenching pussy. I felt my own
weight pressing down even as I pressed up.

   "Oh God," she screamed and dragged me close, my chest against her 
breasts, her sharp nails digging into my back. Electricity raced along her 
skin and she went stiff for five long seconds. I spent my last and sagged 
down onto her. She sagged too, the dazed look of a well fucked whore on her
face.

   We lay on the bed, both naked, both sated, both a sweaty mess. Slowly, 
our minds untangled as my psionic powers withdrew. Her body was hot, 
flushed with orgasm, and I drank in her heat.

   "Your slut's happy," she mumbled. "Your slut's-"

   And that's when my kernel of psionic power collapsed back into itself 
and my control over Becky evaporated.

   She sat frozen for a moment, then the kicking started. "Get off me you 
fuck," she screamed and drummed my back while trying to knee me in the 
balls.

   Discretion is often the better part of valor and I rolled to the side 
and off the bed. She did the same on the opposite side and stood glaring at
me.

   At sixteen, she stood five foot, eight inches tall. Blonde hair fell 
around a Valkyrie's face and her body flawlessly merged a woman's curves 
with a teen's youthful vigor. Her breasts were high, proud and a little 
larger than most. Her eyes held me though, and they were furious.

   "How dare you!" she screamed. One hand touched her sex and dabbed at the
line of cum slowly draining out.

   "How dare I?" I shot back. "How dare you? Oh James, won't you help me 
with my computer. Oh, James of course I'll keep my pheromones under 
control. You just got a taste of your own medicine. I'm not your personal 
cunt licker."

   As if realizing anger wasn't the best course, she flipped modes. Life 
tip: girls are crazy and can do things like that. I'm pretty sure they 
don't really feel emotions; they just pretend too to screw with men. "But 
James," she wheedled, "you do it so well." She toyed with a lock of hair 
and I scented just a whiff of spice in the air.

   "Oh hell no," I said as I backed up. "I'm not licking that out of you. 
That's your punishment for a failed plan."

   And the anger was back. Girls equal crazy, especially the family kind. 
Well, in my family at least. "Fine, get out of my room."

   "Give me back my clothes."

   She whipped them off the floor, threw them at me and then proceeded to 
push, shove and kick me out of her bedroom and into the hall outside. She 
slammed the door in my still very naked face.

   Mom looked up from her hoovering and shook her head. "James, you really 
must learn to get along with your sister. You are family, and family is 
very important."

   I rolled my eyes as I pulled on my clothes. "Tell her to stop being a 
bitch and I'll be nice to her. She's two years older than me. Why aren't 
you talking to her?"

   "Sixteen is a difficult age," said Mom.

   "And fourteen isn't?"

   Mom just shook her head. "We have lessons in an hour. Don't forget. In 
the potions room. Don't make me come searching."

   God, lessons. "Yes Mom." I let out a long suffering sigh. "I won't 
forget."

   She busied herself away and I went to skulk in my bedroom, hidden from 
the crazy.

   As you might have gathered, the Williams of Ashington Lane aren't quite 
the typical suburban American family.

                                    ~#~                                    

   I stood with my back to my large dressing mirror, head turned to squint 
over my shoulder. Angry red cuts lined my back. Damn my sister, even 
thoroughly mind-fucked, she gave pain with pleasure. Bitch.

   I sighed and pulled my shirt back on and buttoned it up. It was lesson 
time.

   As I said, my family's not normal. My dad's a psychic and my Mom's a 
witch. Us children inherited a combination of those talents. Becky, my 
older sister, sort of fused the two into this weird alchemic pheromone 
control with which she can twist minds and bodies like a pretzel. My 
younger sister is another fusion but her abilities run in a very different 
direction. Me, I got both too but separate - a touch of witchery in the 
blood and bones and a nugget of psychic talent in the old gray matter. I'm 
still learning to control them, though.

   The potions room is off the kitchen. It's steeped in years of spices, 
both American and exotic. There are also three glassless windows (a touch 
odd for an internal room) and they show the street markets of ancient 
Babylon (which, to be fair, is odder still). The buildings are tall, 
monolithic and vividly painted in the Akkadian style. The people have the 
characteristic skin of the Middle East and wear colorful costumes covered 
in tassels, embroidery, girdles and sashes. And hats of course. Babylonians
love their hat bling.

   Anyway, I walked into the potions room and Mom looked up from the large 
bronze cauldron. My mother is taller than my sister at five foot nine but 
also thinner, more angular. Age has darkened her once blonde hair to a 
light auburn but it hasn't touched her skin, which is as youthful as ever. 
She keeps her age in her baring and wisdom, not her body.

   She tisked at my appearance. "Dress code, Jason," she said.

   I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on Mom. Do I have to?"

   She gave me a level stare and I knew I had no choice. Someday she'll let
this go, someday.

   I shuffled out of my shirt and pants and pulled my witch's dress from 
its peg by the door. Um, I mean robe, yes, robe. Who am I kidding? It's a 
swooshing black dress, embroidered with witching words with equally black 
thread. Mom was wearing a slightly larger, much more swishy version of the 
same thing.

   "Drink," she said and handed me a shallow cup of beaten copper. It held 
translucent green liquid the surface of which shimmered with opalescent 
colors. I drank and- Oh God.

   A wave of heat ran through my body, starting at my stomach and ending at
the tips of my toes and the tops of my ears. My flesh rippled and reformed,
as if clay under the callused hands of a skilled sculptor. My hips flared, 
my chest filled out, the lines of my face sharpened and, finally, my cock 
and balls melded into my crotch to form a female pussy.

   "Oh God," I said again, this time in a much higher voice. If you've 
never had your balls sucked into your body and dissolved by a witch's brew,
I don't recommend it. If you have, you'll know 'Oh God' is the least I 
could have said.

   "Much better," said Mom wearing a blissful smile. "I don't know why you 
fight this so, Jason. If you'd just let me make it permanent..."

   "No!" I said and almost stumbled over my feet backing up a step. 
Transformed into a girl, my balance is very different. I took a breath. "I 
mean, no thank you. I like being a boy."

   "But boys can't be witches," said Mom. "You shouldn't have the talent at
all."

   "Doesn't the fact that I do have the talent prove boys can be witches?"

   "You don't look like a boy to me, dear." She mimed a woman's curves in 
the air.

   "That's because you won't teach me as a boy! You make me drink the 
shifting tea and train like this."

   "That's because boys can't be witches. Now, stop being silly and come 
here." She held out her arms in an embrace, and, yes, perhaps there are 
some parts of the lessons I like.

   I moved forward and she leaned down. Mom is still slightly taller than 
me but I'm still growing. Probably. A few months without growth is normal 
right? Our eyes met, hers the green of a pond in winter, mine the blue of 
ice. Power gathered in the air.

   Our lips met and I let myself slide into the heat of the kiss. Don't get
me wrong, kissing as a guy is great but kissing as a girl... It brings a 
certain something extra. Real girls may not really have emotions, but if 
they feel kisses anything like this... Well maybe they've got the better 
deal.

   The kiss rolled through me, tingling my flesh and very soul. The 
witchery rose in my blood and bones. If my psionic power is a kernel at the
core of my mind, my witchery is like the banked embers of a baker's fire - 
quiet most of the time but just waiting to rise up when fed.

   She let her hands slide down my body, stroking, caressing. They stayed 
outside my black witch's robe but that scarcely mattered. The fine material
danced on my skin, like a ghost's touch. A moan started in my chest and 
rolled out of my lips. Mom smiled, her lips shaping against mine. God, heat
started to gather in my sex, a slowly burning sun so very different from a 
male erection.

   Mom stepped back and my lips sparked, as if caressed by static 
electricity. "Welcome, Sister of Babylon," she said.

   I stood gasping for a moment. I missed her touch; I missed her soul. 
Then I repeated the ritual words. "Welcome, Sister of Babylon."

   We started our lesson.

   Over a bronze cauldron of boiling water, Mom and I mixed cinnamon, 
aniseed and turmeric with the roots of an alkaloidal herb now gone from the
world. In the fumes from the bubbling mixture, she painted the sygaldry of 
the Goddesses of Sumer across my face in red ocher - warm lines in strange 
shapes. She passed me the ocher and I returned the ritual.

   A queer euphoria grew between us as she taught me the song to sing over 
the cauldron and together we sung of Nammu and Istar, of the Sacred Whore 
and the Blood of Fools. The words were alien and strange but the song 
stirred the witchery in my blood and bones. It danced on my tongue and my 
body danced with it, like living fire. Mom showed it too, eyes wide and 
wild. The marks of Sumer changed her face, bringing forth strange angles 
and shadows. I can only guess they did the same to mine.

   Mom spun around the cauldron as she let loose a wild laugh and danced 
the dances of the prostitute-priestesses of Akkad, Kish and thrice cursed 
and thrice blessed Ur. She shed her dress and bared her lean and powerful 
body to the world. It was perfect, unblemished and unbelievably erotic. My 
nipples grew so hard they hurt and the fire in my sex burnt even brighter. 
She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen - like my sister but 
more mature in baring, style and character.

   The marks of Sumer shimmered on her face, as if heated by an unseen 
flame. Two lines of molten ocher rolled down her neck and onto her chest. 
They twisted and turned, drawing sygaldry around her breasts and nipples - 
perfect milk white swells now highlighted in earthen red. They went lower 
and drew a complex seal on her tight stomach, over her womb. They ran down 
her legs and inner thighs, intricate interlacing patterns like woven vines.

   She looked at me with dusky ocher marked eyes and raised her arms. God, 
something like a fair sized rock lodged in my throat and I stumbled forward
as if falling downhill. She met me with outstretched arms and pulled me to 
her breast. I took the hard nub of her nipple in my mouth and worried it 
with my lips.

   It felt good, primal, and Mom clearly felt the same. She let out a 
contented sigh, half motherly, half sexual, and pushed me lower. I kissed 
down her body, tasting the salt and spices on her skin.

   Nearby, the cauldron bubbled harder as it was heated by our passions. 
From it poured euphoric vapors of cinnamon, aniseed, turmeric and 
alkaloidal herb. They weren't controlling me, though, not like Becky's 
alchemic pheromones. They just brought everything normally hidden to the 
fore.

   My path of kisses reached a different cauldron; it radiated heat and 
sexual energy but was no less intoxicating for that. It called to me, an 
orchid of flesh and promise, and there was only one thing I could really 
do. I leant forward and licked, drawing my tongue up the length of the 
offered pussy. The taste was vivid, intense. It wasn't the explosion of 
synapse altering spices that Becky possessed but it was special all the 
same.

   Mom moaned and this time it was all sexual. Her hands ran through my 
hair and gripped, pulling me closer. "Becky said you were good," she said. 
"Mmm. That's right. A little higher, a little harder."

   I played coy, flicking up but avoiding her clit. It was a game, the best
game, the game of tease and torment. Mom tightened her grip on my hair and 
yanked my head back. Her eyes blazed and she slapped me across the face.

   The pain was sharp and hard, but dwindled quickly. In its place grew a 
dull burn and tears stung the corners of my eyes.

   "I will not tolerate bratty behavior," she said, right then a priestess-
queen of ancient Babylon. "We are Sisters of Babylon but I am the mistress 
and you the apprentice. Understand?"

   I nodded desperately and she pulled me back to her sex. This time I 
didn't play about.

   With strong powerful licks I gave her pleasure. She ground her sex 
against my face, up and down, up and down. Many women grow over sensitive 
but Mom was clearly not among them. My tongue turned saw but she didn't 
seem to care.

   With one final swirling lick around her clit, I brought her to an 
explosive orgasm. Her fingers locked in my hair, pulling hard, and heat 
rolled off her flesh. She stood frozen for five long seconds, then let out 
a guttering breath.

   "Good girl," she said between pants, fingers no longer pulling my hair 
but stroking, working my scalp. "Strip now."

   Numb, I stepped back and undid a tie near my neck. My dress fell in a 
wave. It left my breasts bare and my sex protected only by boxer shorts. 
Mom's face darkened a fraction and I swiftly removed the offending garment.

   Bereft of my last protections, I stood naked before her. The euphoric 
vapors primed my skin and her hungry gaze made it spark.

   "Oh god," I moaned as her eyes took in my breasts. They were small but 
full of threatened womanhood. My flesh sung a pulsating pleasure. She 
pulled the pleasure from me, sucked out with nothing but her eyes.

   Her gaze swept lower, claiming my sex. The sun burned. The sun blazed. I
stumbled and almost fell. Her dark green eyes were magical, incredible.

   Mom retreated to the edge of the room and sank down onto a low padded 
bench, embroidered with tattoos of a long dead priestess of the 
chalcolithic age. She spread her legs and the ocher lines framed her 
engorged pussy. "Come."

   I came, almost running forward. I made to drop to my knees but she 
caught me with her fingertips. With feather touches to my sides, she had me
sit astride her left thigh. My burning sex pressed against the smooth skin 
and tight muscles of her leg.

   "Ride," she said, the single word an absolute command.

   What could I do?

   Cheeks colored with more than just sexual heat, I rubbed my sex against 
her leg, back and forth, back and forth. I'd had female orgasms before, 
alone in my room after a witching lesson, but what grew within me was 
different, stronger, more primal and terribly potent. A wave passed through
me, a whole body quiver promising pleasure to come. It passed in moments 
but left my vision shaking. I put my hands on Mom's shoulders for balance 
but she shook her head.

   "No, behind your back".

   God. I did as bid, hands locking in the small of my back. The position 
thrust my chest forward, offering my tits up like tasty treats. Mom 
accepted my offer and caressed my breasts, feather touches of teasing 
pleasure. Her fingers circled the crinkled skin around my nipples, setting 
them aflame and stirring the witchery in my blood and bones.

   Her eyes caught mine as I pleasured myself. They bored into my soul, 
evil and wicked but so very very good. I shivered again as those green orbs
became my world. The lips of my sex ran up and down her thigh, and my clit 
tingled with the contact. It was oh so good, not too heavy but not to light
either.

   "You're doing well, Sister of Babylon," Mom whispered and pulled hard on
my nipples. I slid forward and moaned as my sex and nipples cried out in 
sympathy. "Let your energy rise, let it feed the witchery in your womb and 
sex. Let our heat feed the cauldron." She drew a finger along the complex 
seal on her womb and gathered ocher. Her finger stained red, she drew the 
same seal onto me.

   Lines rose like blood on my skin, the normally earthy red turned 
sanguine by the heat of our joining. She did it slowly, deliberately - line
after line, curve after curve. A pressure built in my sex and my witchery 
responded.

   "Feel this sensation," whispered Mom as she continued her artistry. 
"This is your witchery, your birth right as a Daughter of Babylon."

   "Not a daughter," I moaned as I moved forward again. Mom raised her leg 
an inch in response, increasing my pleasure. God, it felt like a frozen 
lightning bolt struck my clit.

   "Hot cunt and needy womb," she said and put the final line onto the 
seal. It sunk like a weight into my flesh, an anchor on my soul. She placed
her hands on my shoulders and my skin tingled at the contact. Up and down, 
she pushed me, forcing me to move at a pace which set every nerve in my 
body singing. The pressure in me built and built and built.

   "Such a good daughter," she said. "Do you want me to find you a nice 
boy? He can push you down and fuck you. Give you a child, a witch daughter 
to train all your own."

   "No," I moaned.

   She leaned forward and whispered a single word. "Yes."

   I exploded in the strongest orgasm of my life, male or female. I threw 
my head back and screamed, high pitched and so constant of pitch as to make
a choir master green with envy. My witchery blazed too, not embers but a 
raging bonfire, firing through every inch of my being. I hugged Mom close, 
flesh clinging to flesh. She moved her leg under me, a light stimulation to
prolong my pleasure without overwhelming.

   Behind, the cauldron exploded in sympathy. A bubbling maelstrom of 
witching magic and potent spices boiled up. Its vapors steeped the air and 
only added to my orgasm, fuels to the flame.

   When my orgasm finally past, I just lay still in a maternal embrace, 
sated and drained.

                                    ~#~                                    

   Mom let me steep for a few minutes but all too soon nudged me back to 
action. She pushed me to my feet and guided me to the cauldron. I looked 
down. The potion shimmered with unearthly colors, and half seen shapes 
stirred in its depths.

   "Your witchery did this," she said from behind me, hands resting on my 
ribs. "The fire of your womanhood. This is the power of a Daughter of 
Babylon."

   I could only look and stare. Other lessons had never been like this. 
She'd taught me the names and preparations of spices. She'd lectured on the
genealogy of gods and kings. She'd taught me the dances and songs of the 
cradle of man. None of that compared. This was real witchery, the fire of 
my blood and bones made manifest to warp the world.

   "What does it do?" I asked.

   "Nothing yet," she said as she moved from behind me. She lifted a lid 
from a nearby shelf and covered our brew. "There is one ingredient left - 
the special ingredient. I keep it in my bedroom. Ask your father; he will 
show you where."

   If my recent cum hadn't been clouding my mind, I might have questioned 
the logic of Mom's statement or at least remembered to dress. As it was I 
just nodded and padded out of the potions room. She wore a vulpine smile as
I left.

   Our house is fairly normal, save for the windows to ancient Babylon, of 
course, and whatever Tabatha's room looked like that day. The ground floor 
held the front and back doors, the kitchen, the utility room, the sitting 
room, the dining room and the stairs. The second story held the bedrooms, 
bathrooms and an assortment of linen cupboards.

   My parent's bedroom is the last off the upper hall. I padded along the 
carpeted hall and knocked on the door.

   "Dad," I said, "Mom sent me to get something."

   'Ah,' said a voice in my head. 'Come in.'

   "Dad!" I moaned as I pushed open the door. "Can't you speak normally?"

   The bedroom was the biggest in the house. A large double bed sat front 
and center, an en suite bathroom lurked off to one side and a double window
sat at the other. Dad sat crossed legged on the bed and looked up as I 
entered

   He's a tall, slightly gangly man, my dad, with a high domed forehead and
receding hair. Becky and I both have his blue eyes but not much else. We 
inherited our Mom's blonde hair and athletic body. Dad has black hair and 
is best described as gangly. Not even my youngest sister got the deep 
shadows of his ocular sockets.

   Back before us kids were born, he'd been a high priced consultant and 
problem solver. These days he's mostly retired and splits his time between 
the family and sitting on a number of boards -Apsinthos, the Vergers 
Institute, the Supplicants Committee and so on. If you're from Ashington 
lane you know the kind of places and what they do.

   "I see you have drunk your mother's shifting tea," he said with words 
this time.

   I blinked, then glanced down at myself. Breasts, no penis, no clothes. I
let loose a far too feminine shriek and made a dive for the nearby door. 
Maybe the vapors weren't as benign as I thought.

   "Come now," he said as I stood panting just out of sight. "It's nothing 
I haven't seen before."

   "Yes it is!" I shot back. Unless Mom had doused me with shifting tea as 
a baby (and I was pretty sure she hadn't) my Dad had never seen me naked as
a girl.

   He just laughed.

   "Look," I said as I hid my quivering naked body behind the door, "Mom 
sent me to get her special ingredient. We need it for my lessons."

   "Her special ingredient?" he asked. I could almost hear the raised 
eyebrow.

   "Yes. That's what she said." What was he making a big deal about? You'd 
think I'd asked for a second helping of Brussels sprouts or something.

   'If you are sure,' he said in my head. Before I could object, icy hooks 
slotted into my brain.

   Oh shit.

   The hooks twitched and my body walked itself back into the bedroom. Dad 
was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. His penis curved up from his 
crotch, long with a fat purple head. Wiry black hair covered his chest and 
he looked at me with his dark, secret eyes.

   My reaction to all this could best be described as a chaotic mix of 
panic and disbelief. Mom couldn't have set this up. She wouldn't. But then 
I remembered her smile as I left the potions room and knew the truth. She 
certainly would.

   Dad's a big time psychic and had no trouble piloting me around like a 
remote control sexbot. I sank to the floor in front of him, my head level 
with the tip of his cock. I stared at it with wide, panic filled eyes. The 
head glistened and a drop of watery precum bubbled up from the mouth.

   'And down you go,' he said with his mind and lowered his hands. Like a 
puppet I matched the motion and the cock disappeared into my mouth.

   This wasn't the first time someone had tried to sneak the old meat 
sausage down my throat but it was the first time anyone had succeeded. 
Becky got a real clit-boner from seeing her boyfriend's gay-out for her but
I'd always managed to escape that fate. Some of the other Ashington Lane 
kids had tried too but I'd always escaped. Like Becky's half-Japanese 
girlfriend with the invisible penis; that one almost got me. Of course I 
was a girl at the moment; that had to count for something.

   The penis filled my mouth and Dad seemed satisfied with that for the 
moment, for which my gag reflex was very grateful. It lay heavy against my 
tongue and tasted of salty musk. It filled me, hot and so very potent.

   The icy hooks in my brain started to melt, freeing my body, but alien 
thoughts took their place. This was his psionic power at work, just like 
I'd done with Becky not so long ago.

   Give it a lick, they whispered. I wonder what it tastes like. Go on suck
it a bit. You want to suck it. It will make you feel so good.

   And that's the thing about psionic power, even if you know the thoughts 
aren't yours they're still in your head.

   I groaned as I started to lick the cock in my mouth. I bobbed up and 
down slightly, the veiny skin of the shaft scraping against my red lips. As
a girl, I have fairly thin lips - nothing like Becky's pouting cocksuckers 
- but they didn't feel so thin right then. The head battered against the 
back of my mouth, not quite deep enough to more than irritate my gag 
reflex. It just seemed the right thing to do. God, it was what I wanted to 
do and what every sane person in the same situation would attempt.

   "God," I moaned and more thoughts entered my head.

   This feels fantastic, said the thoughts and my pussy did churn, growing 
hot as my tiny overly sensitive clit buzzed.

   Cunt, they said and I knew they were right. I had a cunt, not a pussy.

   I dropped one hand to it and started playing with myself. I teased my 
clit with my thumb - tiny sensations against that nub of lightning - and 
slipped two fingers up and into myself. I felt hot, wet and tight. The 
walls of my temporary pussy clamped down on the intruding digits, as if 
they wanted to milk them dry.

   I could feel the thud of my dad's heart through his cock. I wanted to go
deeper. Needed to. And I did. I pushed myself down, forcing the cock to the
very back of my mouth and until tears stung my eyes. Then I pulled back, 
drawing the hard length of blood filled flesh between my lips. The shaft 
came away shiny with spittle and the head loomed like an angry mushroom.

   Lick it, whispered a voice. And, oh God, I did exactly that. I leaned 
forward and licked the cock, starting at the base and drawing my tongue 
upwards. I licked it like a lolly pop, and not like Becky's sexy candy-
land, candy-striper Halloween shtick either. This was a proper, full on 
lashing, done for maximum contact and not coquettish appeal. It left me 
with a mouth full of intense masculine flavor. And God did it make my cunt 
hot - hot like an exhibitionist cheerleader after cheering in the finals 
without panties. I think we all got something from Camila that day.

   I gobbled the cock back into my mouth and sucked down as I swirled my 
tongue around the head. Dad twitched under me, clearly enjoying my 
attention. He hadn't sent me a new command but by this point he didn't need
to. The foreign thoughts winding through my gray matter had formed a 
complex memetic ecosystem, self-sustaining and propagating. A normal person
would be mind-fucked for life but my witchery and psionic abilities gave me
a standing resistance. I would only be thoroughly mind-fucked into a cock 
sucking slut until my dad turned off his mental juice.

   Still diddling my sex with one hand, I raised the other and cupped his 
balls. They were fat and heavy. I fondled them, feeling their weight, their
heft, the tiny twitches that promised cum. God, balls, balls, balls. A part
of me remembered having them; most of me just wanted to worship them.

   I let the cock pop from my mouth and licked down its shiny length to the
balls. They bashed against my nose and the intense masculine sent was even 
stronger here. It did strange things to my female brain, like the longing 
for breath experienced by a drowning man. And I was drowning, drowning in 
sex and thoughts not my own.

   I took one of the fat balls in my mouth, feeling its shape, testing its 
resistance with my tongue. My cunt twitched and clenched against my 
fingers. I let it pull free and took the other. It felt heavy on my tongue 
and oh so potent. I swirled around it, bathing and worshiping it. My cunt 
blazed, oh so hot and oh so tight.

   The meme-storm in my head changed its focus. Cock, cock, cock, it said. 
Worship the cock. The cock lay against my face as I performed my cowtow to 
his testicles, the meaty shaft covering one of my eyes. I let go of Dad's 
balls and took his cock back in my mouth.

   It was so hard and hot, like sucking off a volcano, and if his cock was 
a volcano, my cunt was the magma underneath. I felt a pressure in me build 
and I felt the same thing in Dad, his muscles changing, his heartbeat 
quickening.

   A final twitch ran through his body and he exploded. Potent seed filled 
my mouth, so full of flavor my mind almost stopped. As soon as I tasted the
first squirt, I climaxed too. A searing wave of light rolled out from my 
cunt and clit, setting my every nerve on fire. Each sung its own song of 
transcendent joy. I pretty much stopped existing as a thinking, feeling 
person for a while. There was this kid who used to live across the street, 
Larry, who wire headed himself into oblivion. For I don't know how long, I 
went to the same place. I think I even saw his face.

   I came back to Earth as my Dad pumped the last of his cum into my mouth.
There was so much of it. It felt like it might overflow.

   Dad pulled his softening cock from my mouth and it came out with a 
pearly white sheen. He wiped the head against my cheek and tucked it back 
into his pants.

   "Now," he said and raised his hand. I stood. "Go see your mother and 
give her the special ingredient."

   Still on fuck-doll autopilot, I turned and trudged back down stairs. 
Becky's door was open as I passed and I saw her staring out, her deep blue 
eyes almost manic as they drunk me in. She only wore her bra and panties 
and her hands were stuffed between her legs. A wisp of spice crackled 
through my brain and jerked my clit, but Dad's control kept me walking 
onwards.

   Mom greeted me at the door of the potions room, once more wearing her 
black witching dress. She used a finger to scoop up a dribble of cum that 
was leaking from between my lips and stuck it in her mouth.

   She moaned happily. "You got the correct special ingredient, I see," she
said and ushered me towards the bronze cauldron. "Now spit."

   I tried, I really did, but fucked out of my mind I didn't really 
succeed. Half the cum in my mouth dribbled down my chin and dropped onto my
upturned breasts. The remainder came in a gluttonous dollop and splashed 
into the bubbling cauldron.

   "Perfect!" said Mom and clapped her hands. She took a long wooden wand 
and started to stir as she chanted under her breath.

   That's about when I began to take back control of my own mind. Stirred 
by Mom's chanting, my witchery flared up in my blood and bones, and my 
psionic powers woke up from their den in the hidden places of my brain. 
Individual clear thoughts pin-balled through my gray matter and I just 
shook my head, as if I could shake things back into place. Some facts did 
crystallize however. I'd sucked a dick. I'd fingered myself to a white-out 
climax while sucking a dick. I'd spat, not swallowed, the cum I'd gotten by
sucking a dick. God fuck it. The taste of my father's overpowering seed 
still clung to my mouth.

   "Here you go," said Mom. She held up a small glass bottle filled with 
shimmering liquid.

   "What is it?" I asked, very much on edge.

   "It is what we made," she said and smiled, the expression lighting up 
her flawless, ageless face. "You don't think my skin stays this perfect all
by its self do you?"

   I took the bottle without a word. The worst part? When I tried the 
potion a few days later, it did make my skin look fantastic.

                                    ~#~                                    

   How to describe my day? Terrible, emasculating, crazy? All are accurate 
and given that, I think I can be forgiven for sulking in my room until the 
shifting tea wore off. When my dick finally popped back out (with a wet 
squelching sound that just about gave me a heart attack), I felt a lot 
better but still not truly well.

   A man again, I put back on my boxers, jeans and t-shirt and stomped 
about the house a bit. You know, just showing I wouldn't be pushed around. 
That day had been weird, yes, but Ashington Lane is all about weird. Take 
for example the completely off her rocker lesbian runaway Stepford Wife 
from across the street. Give her an inch and she'll have you brainwashed 
and playing sapphic Rockwell family. You couldn't show weakness.

   I was just passing my youngest sister's room, when I heard a panic 
filled scream. As I've mentioned, Tabatha is something a the family's black
sheep, almost literally. She has black hair, dark green eyes and the kind 
of pre-teen build that seemed to be more sharp knees and elbows than girl. 
She also never really got the hang of 'going with the flow', which is a 
skill you really need to develop to survive in Ashington Lane. If I took 
every attempt to mind fuck and rape me personally, I would be a nervous 
wreck.

   Still, she was my kid sister and it was my job to look after her.

   "Tab," I said as I pushed the door open, "you okay?"

   I stepped through the door and into another world.

   The vaulted hall of a stone castle spilled in all directions, all great 
granite blocks, blazing torches and hanging tapestries. I clunked as I 
moved, now wearing a full suit of armor. I even had a sword. How cool is 
that?

   To the sound of metal against stone, I strode along the hall towards the
screams. Now I was closer, I could tell they didn't come from Tabatha. The 
sound was all wrong, nothing like her at all.

   I found my sister dressed in a queen's finery of lace, silk and fur, 
slouched on her ornate throne. She wore a bored, disinterested expression 
and a thin golden diadem sat slightly askew on her head.

   Before her stood two giant plush teddy bears, both with vivid red strap-
ons curving up from their otherwise bare crotches. Between them on hands 
and knees, impaled front and back, was Tabatha's friend Ruth. The ruined 
remains of a maid uniform lay torn apart on the floor nearby.

   With a steady rhythm, the teddy bears drove their artificial cocks in 
and out of Ruth's quivering body. One with butterscotch colored fur fucked 
her mouth. His strap-on sunk deep into her throat and then came out covered
with drool and mucus. The other, with fur the color of dark chocolate, 
fucked her cunt. When Butterscotch pulled back, Chocolate thrust in. When 
Chocolate drew his strap-on from Ruth, Butterscotch fucked in the opposite 
direction.

   "You're meant to knock, James," said Tabatha.

   The teddy bears continued to fuck. Whenever she could, Ruth would gasp 
for breath and let out a scream. Who could blame her? The only time she 
could do so was when Butterscotch pulled out and that moment coincided with
Chocolate forcing an oversized piece of bulging plastic into her immature 
cunt. When it was Butterscotch who was hip deep in his immature fucktoy, 
Ruth couldn't do much more than squeeze out a gargling muffled moan.

   "Would you have heard if I did?" I said. "How big is this place?" I 
think I've mentioned that Tabatha, like Becky, has a fused mix of witchery 
and psionic power. But where as Becky has mind altering pheromones, Tabatha
is a full blown reality warper. Stick her in a sealed space, like a room, 
and it will start to change as it warps to meet her expectation and 
desires. Within the space, the normal rules are different. They are, at 
least to an extent, how Tabatha wants them. Today that seemed to involve 
oversized teddy bears raping her friend.

   Ruth, like Tabatha, was twelve years old. They went to school together 
and I'd have named Ruth one of Tabatha's best friends. Why Tabatha was now 
over seeing a gang rape I did not know. In fact, I kind of wanted to know, 
so I asked.

   "Tab," I started and sort of waved by armored hand at the rape. "Um? 
Why?"

   Tabatha's face took on a dark cast. "She tried to steal Jake from me!"

   The teddies responded to her anger. Their thrusts became harder, faster.
Ruth's body jerked at the assault.

   "And Jake's your, what, boyfriend?"

   The anger left Tabatha and she became coy, perhaps even bashful. "Well 
no, not yet, but Ruth knew I liked him and then she told me she liked him 
to!"

   The end of the sentence marked the return of her anger and she glowered 
at Ruth. "She's a horrible, horrible slut and as Daddy says, bad sluts need
to be punished. Do you want to fuck her?"

   Another day I might have demurred and left her to her private fun, but I
was feeling a powerful desire to prove my manhood. Partly this was because 
of the day's events and partly because, hey, this was a medieval castle and
if you can't rape the serving wench in a medieval castle, where can you 
rape her?

   Butterscotch moved away from Ruth's mouth and I replaced him. My suit of
armor even had a handy crotch latch. I flipped the buckle and swung the cup
wide.

   With my rapidly hardening cock hanging out, I looked down at Ruth. Her 
face was a mess; it was covered with slobber, puffed up and her eyes were 
red from tears. I ran my gaze over the rest of her naked form. She was a 
serous member of the itty bitty titty committee. Her tits were almost non-
existent, barely fat bee-stings, if that. Her ass was likewise 
unimpressive, still flat and boyish.

   "Please," she moaned and stopped to scream as Chocolate rammed deep into
her. "Please. Please."

   "Suck," I said and jammed my cock passed her lips.

   Ruth was no-one's secret fuck-pet, I'll tell you that right off. Her 
inexperienced tongue lapped like a limp noodle at my dick. Like how hard is
it to give a cock a proper tongue lashing? Even I managed that and I'm a 
guy. I swapped tongue action for her throat and slammed my cock balls deep.
She just about went crazy at that. Her whole body twitched while her throat
spasmed around the intruder.

   As long as your willing to use a little force, there're not many ways a 
chick can fuck up a really deep throat blow job. I held her down for a long
ten count as the panic grew in her eyes. Then I drew back. The second my 
cock cleared her throat, she started dry retching and gasping for breath. 
She couldn't even spare the oxygen to scream. I let my heavy cock slap 
against her face and lie there.

   I looked up at Tabatha. She had her eyes clamped shut and a hand thrust 
up her complex pleated skirts. She was mumbling under her breath. "Sorry 
Daddy. I promise I'll be good. Please, not my ass again. Please. Please." 
She moaned at the last and I heard a wet squelching sound from her crotch 
as she finger-banged herself.

   "Tab," I said. "Can I swap with the bear?"

   She didn't look up but Chocolate drew his strap-on from Ruth's cunt and 
shuffled away on his great fuzzy feet. The red plastic dripped with fuck-
juice. For all this was a pretty heavy duty gang rape, Ruth was wet like no
-ones business. Perhaps Tabatha was warping reality more than I'd thought. 
Come to that, if she was affecting Ruth, might she be affecting me too? I 
put the thought to one side. There wasn't much I could do if she was.

   My cock was very hard and glistening with slobber. I fucked my hips and 
it slid easily into Ruth's blazing hot cunt. The immature outer lips were 
bright red from abuse. The walls clamped down, trying to keep me out, but 
that was impossible. I gave her a few minutes of cunt-pounding, during 
which time she loosed an odd collection of screams, moans and pleas for 
release.

   "Please," she wept from between sobs. "Please, I want to go home. 
Please, not my cunny."

   As if that was going to happen. Still, perhaps I could compromise on the
cunny part.

   I drew my cock slowly from her cunt, scraping the fat head against her 
inner walls. Once it was fully out, I rested the head against her ass. The 
castle air felt very cold compared to her furnace.

   "Ready for some ass-play?" I asked. She didn't answer. She couldn't 
since Chocolate was feeding his strap-on into her mouth, still dripping 
with girl-goo. His wide plush face showed a fixed expression of blissful 
happiness, probably a coincidence but pretty appropriate right then.

   Her ass bent around my cock as I applied pressure but the tight little 
rosebud resisted. It wasn't the only thing which fought back either. Ruth 
just about went crazy, ass and legs jerking as she tried to escape. I 
gripped her narrow hips with both hands and held her steady. Now my target 
wasn't dodging like a jackrabbit (or perhaps hare given the circumstances),
I added a little more force and broke through! If her cunt was tight, her 
ass was like nothing else.

   Even with only the head inside, I knew this was going to be one good ass
-fuck. I cored her slowly but surely. Her ass squeezed down on me like a 
vice, making my cock feel alive like I had lava running through it. When I 
finally bottomed out, I gave her ass a slap. The sound echoed through the 
hall and a red copy of my hand bloomed on Ruth's pastel white flesh.

   "Please Daddy," moaned Tabatha as she jilled herself off. "Not the 
strap. Not the strap. I'll be good." Her entreaties broke off and I looked 
up to see the teddy bear Butterscotch feeding his strap-on into Tabatha's 
mouth. She had thin lips and they were stretched tight around the blood red
intruder. He kept going until her nose met the fuzzy fur of his crotch.

   That was her problem.

   I started up a good fucking rhythm, driving my cock in and out of Ruth's
ass. The motion sent my balls slapping against her hairless cunt in a 
series of meaty smacks. Chocolate kept up his own assault and though we 
lacked the practiced easy beat he and Butterscotch had, we double-stuffed 
Ruth something good.

   Her body twitched and struggled between us. Tears leaked from her eyes 
but I kept half my attention on her cunt and the juices just kept on 
gushing. The slut liked even this.

   I felt the pressure of my orgasm start to grow. That drove me to even 
greater power. I hammered into her body, sending a shudder through her 
flesh with each hammer blow.

   And then she was shuddering all her own.

   A flush ran over her skin and she twitched as if hooked up to a powerful
battery. She screamed onto the cock in her throat, which I bet would have 
felt wonderful if a length of inert plastic hadn't been the only recipient.
Her ass crushed down on my cock. Her cunt clenched on nothing and juices 
dripped down her legs. God, she was cumming! The twelve year old slut was 
cumming from a teddy bear gang rape.

   In the middle of her orgasm, I joined her. My balls clenched and I 
pumped boiling cum deep into her ass. It felt wonderful, like I was 
spurting out molten pleasure.

   At the same time, Tabatha joined us. She sobbed as she came, heavy tears
that rolled down her cheeks.

   When her energy ran out, Ruth fell limp to the ground, sobs shaking her 
body. I pulled my wilting cock free and cleaned the worst of the mess off 
on her ass. I was just considering a blowjob to get it really clean, when 
Tabatha jumped from her throne.

   "Out!" she screamed, eyes wild. The distance between has expanded and 
the distance between me and the door shrank. The optical effect was 
something like being very, very drunk. She hugged Ruth's sobbing body to 
her like a baby and whispered nonsense words in her ear.

   "I'm going, I'm going," I said as I turned to leave. "Just remember to 
take Ruth to Mom or Dad before you let her go home. They need to do 
something about her memory."

                                    ~#~                                    

   Stepping through Tabatha's door returned my clothes to normal, meaning 
no sword and no armor. It did nothing for the stink of sex. I returned to 
my bedroom, grabbed a towel and headed to the shower. The hot water felt 
good.

   By the time I'd cleaned myself, dried and dressed again, it was time for
dinner.

   The family gathered together for our evening meal at the kitchen table. 
Mom danced about wearing a floral dress, doling out steaming food from a 
number of large dishes. Tabatha and Becky both glared at me, sibling-hate 
in their eyes. Sibling-hate of course ran hotter than normal hate but burnt
out quicker too. Besides, I'd done nothing wrong. Becky had tried to mind 
rape me and Tabatha had started things with Ruth! Dad watched the scene 
with understated amusement.

   "Well," said Mom as she sat down with her own food, "I hope you have all
enjoyed your day."

   Dad's eyes sparkled at me and it was my turn to glower. I ignored him 
and set into my food. Made by traitors, it might have been, but it still 
tasted good.

   And besides, this was Ashington Lane and we were the Williams. If you 
couldn't deal with strange, find another street.

  
TheWilliamsOfAshingtonLane