BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 02.2

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A college sophomore in a tight situation.
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Part 5 of the 6 part series

Updated 08/31/2017
Created 08/30/2010
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Bears, Porridge, and Honey:

A Pair of Goldilocks

Story Two---The Honey Trap: Part Two

When Phil checked in, he hadn't noticed family pictures. Now, while exploring the house, he found a photo album.

Lou was in the kitchen, making breakfast. The clang of pots and pans, and the smell of sausage filled the house; Phil's mouth watered. The photo album had few pictures, and all were black and white. They offered a few clues to the family.

One picture showed three girls, one wearing a graduation robe, Phil took to be in their early teens. The caption read 'Lou, Brunie, and Lena at Lou's fifth grade graduation'. "Fifth grade?" he thought. Louella looked thirteen at least, while the other girls looked like high school students. The caption inscribed their ages: 10, 18, and 13 respectively.

Elena had dark hair while Brunhilde's color was indeterminate. "Guess I'll have to wait to meet her," he thought.

Another picture showed the girls with a man, obviously their father. The caption read 'Johanne Gundersson and Daughters'. Johanne was a huge man, "He's where the girls got their height. They must have gotten their looks from their mother, though." Johanne was butt ugly. The picture showed a man with a craggy, pockmarked face, bulbous warty nose, and, Phil could swear, a jagged tooth protruding from his fat, wrinkled lips.

Johanne's enormous head was crowned by a frizzied, bushy, bird's nest and framed by thick wiry sideburns, leading to a sheep's wool beard.

The next picture confirmed Phil's suspicions about the mother. It showed a beautiful, voluptuous, large breasted woman with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight narrow nose. The caption read 'Gudrun Gundersson, beloved mother'. "Damn!" Phil thought. "She's beautiful. What did she see in him?"

He closed the album and looked around. "It's like a creaky, old Victorian with big furniture," he thought. Everything was oversized, hardly surprising given the residents. The house was a one story with a basement. The main floor contained the living room and kitchen.

Not wanting to disturb Lou while she cooked, Phil decided to explore the basement. "Exploring the basement of a strange house, not a good idea," warned Phil's instincts. "Everything's weird already, may as well step into it further," he replied.

The passage was a well lit set of carpeted stairs. Phil found a hallway at the bottom. On one side was a wall constructed of thick bricks of frosted glass. Half way down was a sliding glass door. Phil opened the door and found himself staring at a huge vault of a bathroom.

The floor, the wall, and even the ceiling were white tiled. Three huge mirrors were set in the wall to the left. Next to each of the mirrors was a medicine cabinet; each the size of a large wardrobe. Below the cabinets were sinks, the size of small tubs, with polished chrome faucets and gleaming white porcelain. A huge toilet sat in the corner.

The right side of the bathroom contained an open shower. A deep tub, almost a small swimming pool, was set in the floor. The place was reminiscent of a Turkish bathhouse.

It took a while for Phil to notice his gaping mouth. "It's getting to be a habit with these people," he thought; and he hadn't met the other sisters yet. Everything in the house was huge. Phil felt even more diminutive. The strange part was he felt more small than naked. "If they shower here, what is their bedroom like?"

A single large door, across from the bathroom, led to the bedroom. The room was circular with three giant walk-in closets. It had all the female things, just oversized. Three giant cabinets, stocked with feminine products, jugs of perfume, and makeup stood by large mirrors, similar to the bathroom. Phil stopped to view himself. "Do I look like a statue?"

Maybe he was a little pale. He had no scars, birthmarks, or acne scars. Other than his head, and a little in his crotch, his body hair was almost non-existent. Certainly his body had no flab. Phil couldn't understand it; he never exercised and he hated sports. He could detect some muscle tone, but not that of an athlete.

Phil looked at his face. He didn't have the macho square jaw of his older brother. His chin was nice and rounded; his cheeks were smooth. Phil's eyes were wide like his mother's, "I think I got her thick lashes."

Phil's father gave him his straight blonde hair. He brushed the bangs from his forehead. His hair never seemed to get past his ears. In the back it fell no further than the nape of his neck. "I can't even grow sideburns," he thought.

He tried to find a word, a way to describe himself: "Smooth...yeah that's it." Smooth cheeked, smooth skinned, and smooth muscled...he turned around and looked at his ass, "I'm smooth there too."

"She thinks I have a nice ass. I don't know...maybe. Maybe I do look like a statue." Phil decided he was tired of 'maybe's' and turned to look at the final piece of this strange room: the enormous bed set in the middle.

It was a giant monster of a bed, larger than three king-sizes put together. The edge came to his chin. Three pillows, each as large as a fair-sized sleeping bag, sat on the mattress. "They sleep in the same bed!" he realized. "Weird," but then, he was standing naked in a women's bedroom, in a strange house. "I can't cast stones. I'm already down the rabbit hole."

'Bzzz!' "?" The sound came from above. Phil looked up and saw a speaker set in the ceiling. "Phil, wherever you are, breakfast is ready," Lou said.

Phil entered the kitchen, "You have an intercom?" Lou, setting a large mountain of pancakes and sausage on the table, replied, "It's a large house. Did you have fun?"

"Your bathroom...wow! And you sleep in the same bed?"

"Well, it's convenient for us," a new, husky voice replied.

Phil, startled, turned to the back door. Once again his bottom jaw hit the floor, "Guh!"

"Oh! Lena, you're just in time. Brunie's out front putting the tools away." Lou said.

"Her other sister's here too?" Phil asked himself. Vague and abstract thoughts were all he could muster; rationality was subsumed by the vision before him.

Elena Gudrunsdottir stepped through the door. Phil experienced a near repeat of his first meeting with Lou; 'near' because of certain marked differences.

She wore a plain, albeit large, white t-shirt and dark blue denim shorts. The shirt did little to conceal the silver dollar areolas jutting into the fabric. Elena was, impossibly, bigger than her sister. "She's got to be almost nine feet!" shocked Phil thought. "And those...double F's at least." Huge barely began to cover it.

She had a larger chest than her sister, but slightly narrower hips. Her midsection seemed thicker but her body shape suggested muscles. Elena resembled her sister in the strong jaw, large mouth, and high rosy cheekbones; but her nose was long, narrow, and straight like her mother's.

Her hair was a rich, deep, dark brown, cascading in curls to her wide, wide shoulders; and her face sported the deepest blue eyes Phil had ever seen, including his own. Her legs, like her sister's, were long and muscled, with a light dusting of dark hair.

"He doesn't say much," Elena noted. "And why's he naked?"

"Give him time," Lou replied. "And he's naked because we took his clothes to the wash. He has nothing to wear."

"Wow! Elena sounds like Virginie Ledoyen" Phil thought.

"Oh," Elena remarked. "Don't we have any...?"

"Nope. No men's. And he won't wear a dress."

"Well he's in trouble, then, 'cause three of Harry's washers broke down, right smack in the middle of cleaning. Everything has to be done over and our stuff's way down the list."

"Damn!" Lou cursed. "But we're a motel. Shouldn't we get priority?"

"We're a motel that barely gets any guests. And the Bakers' wedding is tomorrow. Their clothes get priority."

"Darn!"

Phil finally recovered his voice. "Uh...uh...um, you wouldn't have happened to see my wallet and phone, would you?"

"Oh! You mean that little thing that screwed up one of Harry's machines. Sorry it's a total loss. Don't know about your wallet. Harry's complained about some break-ins though."

"Shit!" Phil thought.

Elena looked at him, right eyebrow cocked. "You know, you look kind of cute. Maybe losing your clothes wasn't a bad thing."

"'!' (She thinks I'm cute!)"

"I hope you don't mind prancing around in your birthday suit for the next few days," Elena said, sitting at the table.

"Well....I....uh."

"You're right, Lou, he does have a cute ass." Phil jumped at the sound of Lauren Bacall, or rather Brunhilde, who'd crept quietly behind him. He turned around and found himself staring a floral print.

Phil backed up....and backed up....and backed up until his upper back hit the edge of the kitchen table. He craned his neck, trying to comprehend the impossible vision of Brunhilde Gudrunsdottir. "This...this...is too much," he thought fearfully. "It's impossible!"

Overwhelming was as near an insult as possible to describe Brunhilde. She was beyond anything describable. Nearly ten feet tall, with boom-booms Phil estimated were somewhere in the G-range (if there was such a thing), her curvy, muscular body matched Lou's in the hips.

She wore a sheer, strapless floral print dress and sandals. She had deep, wavy red hair that fell to her waist. Her face matched Lou's except for the slightly narrower nose and emerald green eyes.

Brunhilde crossed her Amazon arms over her massive chest and (with a hungry look that disturbed Phil) licked her lips. "He looks yummy. Do you have more?"

"No," Lou giggled. "He's the only one I found."

Phil's mind reeled. He was naked, in a kitchen, with three impossibly huge, muscular, gorgeous women. The moment was surreal, nearly terrifying; the beginning of a wet dream that could turn into a nightmare at any moment.

"Impossible," he marveled. "Women cannot grow this huge. Men don't grow this huge. What kind of place is this? Who are these women?"

Phil fought a battle with fear and lust as Brunhilde took her seat. Phil didn't want to get an erection, given his present state. At the same time he realized, "These women can break me in two. Gulp!"

"Uh Phil, your seat's ready," Lou said. A chair, piled with cushions, sat between Lou and Elena. Phil, somewhat cautiously, approached the chair.

The women looked at him strangely. Even Lou's looks seemed slightly predatory. Phil felt like a tiny mouse under the eyes of three giant, hungry cats.

In spite of his fear, Phil decided to concentrate on the meal. "Besides," he assured himself, "Lou's nice; and, really, the women are hot. It's not so bad...I think."

The pancakes were delicious, smothered in butter and honey (lots of butter, lots of honey, gallons worth, big women have big appetites). As they ate the women talked. Phil ate silently. The conversation turned to the young man.

"So Phil," asked Brunhilde. "What brought you to our nifty little motel?"

Phil hesitated, partly because his mouth was full of pancake. "Don't say anything," his instinct warned. "You don't want to talk about Miami."

"Look at me now," he replied. "I'm at the lowest point in my life. I'm not even embarrassed anymore. I mean, what can they do? Laugh?" So Phil swallowed, took a deep breath, and started to talk.

In hindsight, it surprised Phil how easily it all came out. The disaster in Miami; the betrayal by his best friend; the exposure on the Internet; but not just the recent events: his bullying older brother, his disappointed father, the years of humiliation from his peers, all flowed from his mouth. When he finished, the table was quiet.

"Oh God! I said too much" Phil thought.

The sisters' expressions were neutral; neither sympathetic nor derisive. "Well!" said Brunhilde, after the pensive silence. "That was interesting. And to think of all the trouble we went through. At least our parents supported us. Dad would have tanned my hide if I'd treated you two like Phil's brother."

"Yeah Phillip," said Elena. "You should have seen what some boys did to Lou at her senior prom...well what they tried to do."

"What happened?" asked Phil. Awkward silence descended on the kitchen.

"Uhhh...I don't think we should go into that right now," Lou said. "Besides, it was ...what? Seventeen, eighteen years ago? Water under the bridge."

The other women giggled, and then Lou rumbled a distinctly unfeminine 'burp!' and all three erupted into laughter. Phillip nervously joined in. "These women have secrets," he thought.

Phil also realized he hadn't given much thought to the women's ages. "Eighteen years ago? That means Lou is 35 at least. Elena is probably 38 and Brunhilde is 43. Three hot muscle women and one naked 19 year old; I'm in some weird MILF fantasy."

Phil looked around the table. The women were chatting away about events in town. The pile of pancakes and sausages had dwindled to crumbs. Phil stopped eating, full for the moment.

"This is just...strange. Who do I talk to when I get...where?" A hand brushed his thigh; he jumped, startled.

"Oh!" Louella said. "You seemed lost for a moment. Is something wrong?"

"Oh!...uh...no, no...I just...well I just kind of thought today was weird, very weird...I'm having trouble taking it in."

"You think today is weird?" asked Brunhilde. "Look at us. We're the Gudrunsdottirs. Weird is our life. You're just experiencing a hiccup."

Phil was pensive for a moment and then noticed Lou had put her hand against his thigh. "'?' Um, Lou?"

"You know," she said. "Your skin is soft. Did you realize that?"

"Uh...no? (My skin is soft?! No one's told me that either.)"

Louella moved her hand to Phil's leg and began to stroke the skin. Red warmth flushed through Phil's body. ("What is she doing?")

He looked at her hand, uncomfortably close to his crotch, and up at her face. "Uh...Lou?" he asked nervously.

"Hey Lena, feel his skin," Louella said, not listening. Elena leaned close and placed her hand on his other leg. The women's positions brought their breasts very close to Phil's head. Phil, sandwiched between those humungous mams, blushed warmer. Embarrassed and increasingly aroused, he struggled to keep his third leg in check. "Uh...ladies? (What the hell's happening?!)"

"You're right Lou. I never felt a man's skin this soft," Elena said. Her hand moved from his upper leg to his thigh. Phil squirmed on the cushions. "Uh...ladies? What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Feeling you, silly," said Lou. "Do you want us to stop?"

Phil's first impulse was to say 'yes!' but two hot women were running their hands across his bare skin; a once-in-a-lifetime experience. "N-n-no," he stuttered. Something was happening. Something was going to happen. He didn't know what. He hoped it wouldn't end in humiliation.

Phil looked at Brunhilde. She stared back with a hungry intensity, Phil found frightening.

Elena moved her hand to his belly. Lou moved hers to his head. She ran fingers through his straw-colored hair while Elena rubbed back and forth across his belly.

"You're soft everywhere, Phil," Lou breathed. "Your hair is like silk."

"I love your flat belly," murmured Elena. "I like its softness; nice and pliable, not hard like an athlete."

"Mmmm," Phil moaned. He rocked in his chair, giving up any attempts to hold down his erection. His dick stood up, pink and stiff. He felt no embarrassment, just vague nervousness, not like the hotel room with Julie. Some defenses were still up. On some level he expected flashbulbs and laughter, but his body responded to the strokes.

The women ignored his sex for the moment, roving their hands over his body. Phil's breaths quickened; his skin flushed pink and moist; his belly rolled against Elena's fingers; his head rocked against Lou's hand, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

Phil's eyes closed and opened, taking in the sight of huge clothed nipples close to his face. "Mmmm," he moaned a second time.

"How do you feel, Phil?" Brunhilde softly asked. She watched him with that same frightening hunger.

"Uh....good...I think...a...a...little nervous," he gasped.

Brunhilde licked her lips. "I know a way to calm you down," she husked. She pushed back the chair and stood up. Phil's eyes popped as, in three smooth movements, Brunhilde pulled off her dress, shucked her panties, and kicked off her sandals.

She stood before Phil and her sisters in all of her 9'7" big boobed, Amazonian glory. "Have you ever been buttered," she asked with a voice made of wood smoke.

To Be Continued...

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