Homelands Pt. 02 Ch. 03

Homelands: Autumn
Part Two
Chapter Three

######################
Part Two picks up where Part One left off. Be advised that if you haven't read Part One, the story may be quite difficult to follow.

You should also read Part Two, Chapters One and Two before reading this.

This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, most chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.

All characters are over eighteen. All acts are consensual.
########################

As I made my way up the stairs from the basement to the kitchen, I noticed that something was wrong. I felt like I was living in more than world at the same time. The body I felt and saw wasn't the body I thought of as mine. But then it was again.

Memories flashed through my mind. I'd done this. The disorientation I felt was the aftermath of, what, a spell I'd cast? I was a wizard of some kind? That didn't sound quite right, but it was close to the truth. The family had been under threat. Someone had killed cousin Jack. And I'd transported us to a place where we could all feel safe. My parents' house, at Christmas time. Yes, that was it.

When I reached the kitchen, I noticed another effect of my spell. Or maybe it was another spell altogether. Maybe not even one I was responsible for. Because, while I found it easy enough to remember why I'd brought us here, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I'd made my sister and mother look like that.

Natalie leaned back against her husband, Rob, whose hands were wrapped gently around her narrow waist. Nat had always been attractive, but she was well into her forties. Which was not to say she was no longer attractive. Just that it was a more mature beauty, one that was easy enough to appreciate for a man who was also in his forties, but might not have appealed so much to younger men.

At least, that was what the front of my mind was telling me I knew to be true.

And a middle-aged woman who was still beautiful even though her body was now a bit pear-shaped and her full breasts were beginning to succumb to gravity's inexorably pull did indeed flicker at the edges of my vision. As I might expect of her, she wore baggy sweat pants and oversized sweater.

But, mostly, when I looked at my sister, I saw something quite different. The woman who was drinking coffee and discussing plans for the day with our mother certainly sounded like Nat. But she could easily be mistaken for a woman in her early twenties, unless you looked really close at her face. And she looked better than I thought I remembered Nat having looked even as a teenager.

This version of my sister had flawless skin, lustrous dark-brown hair hanging down to her delicate shoulders, and a killer body.

That body was not hidden in baggy clothes either. This other version of my sister wore tight black pants that might as well have been painted on. She was sporting a prominent camel-toe. Her legs were nicely curved, her muscles toned. Not quite as shapely as I preferred, but more than a little impressive. Her tank-top was so tight that her breasts, which looked like large grapefruits, seemed to be demanding that I stare at them and think the kind of thoughts a man should not think about his sister.

Really, really should not think about his sister.

Those thoughts had perhaps come unbidden, but no less smoothly for it. It had taken me a minute to even realize what I was doing. If I'd had such thoughts at all, shouldn't they have felt strange and wrong and shameful? Or just about anything other than natural?

I felt no more shame when I looked at my mother, who also only seemed to look the way she should on some superficial level, while appearing to be something else beneath. The woman bending over to put cookies in the oven was a heavy woman in her early seventies. A typical grandmother, as devoid of sex appeal as possible. But she was also a young woman with a body that defied reason, gravity, biology, and other authority figures.

If Natalie's breasts were like grapefruits, Mom's were like watermelons. They bounced around with her every motion, no matter how small, threatening to spill out over the front of her apron. Which was, of course, the only thing she wore, besides a thong. Because, you know, that's how women dress when baking cookies for the holidays.

Mom's ass anchored the weight of her chest. It was thick, round, and soft, but it stood out behind her, rather than sagging towards the floor. No ass that size could be so free of dimpling and cellulite, yet hers was all the same. Her lower body was soft in all the right places, but clearly shaped by dense layers of muscle underneath the generous padding. As thick as her ass and thighs were, her skin was impossibly smooth, her ankles and knees delicate and slender, her calves like baseballs.

In fact, despite her huge ass, curvaceous legs, and massive breasts, Mom's waist was not a great deal thicker than Natalie's. It was thicker, yes. But not by anything near the same margin as the difference between her hips and those of her daughter. Everything but her thighs, ass and breasts belonged to a woman only slightly less fit and trim than Nat.

Mom's hair, cut in a perfect bob, was sleek, shiny, and black as ink, save a few strands of silver. When she leaned towards the window and the morning sunlight fell on it, red highlights appeared. Those gorgeous raven locks, matched by thick and lightly arched brows, cast such a deep contrast with her fair skin that even without that body, she'd have been breathtaking. Her lips were full, her brown eyes large and bright. Her face was a bit soft, her nose a little broad, and there was a sad look to her face. But she was still gorgeous. And though I was sure other men would say Natalie had the better body, I simply couldn't agree. This fantasy version of my mother had my blood fit to boil.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Or my reaction to it. What on earth would have made me use my magic to do this to my mother and sister? Assuming it had in fact been something I'd done that transformed them so.

But I didn't think it was. Like when a word is on the tip of your tongue, I knew that I knew what was happening, but I just couldn't quite manage to remember what it was. There was a reason why they looked the way they did, and why I felt absolutely no guilt for the illicit thoughts I was having. And it would come to me any minute now.

"Merry Christmas," Natalie said as I ascended the final stairs.

Rob mumbled a similar greeting. Was he looking at me with jealousy? Had he caught me lasciviously staring my eyes out at his wife?

Mom came over and hugged me, going up on tip-toes to kiss me on the cheek. Her love pillows pressed against my chest. I let my hands fall from her lower back, where they gravitated naturally when I embraced her, southwards.

Heart pounding like I'd just run a marathon, I decided to just go ahead and do it. Couldn't help myself. I squeezed her ass. Gently at first, but with increasing vigor.

She didn't react in any way. Maybe it hadn't even happened. Maybe all the unreal images were only in my head. That would almost make more sense.

Fuck, her ass felt good. I want to slap it, bite it, tongue-fuck her asshole. Then come around front and play with those huge, soft breasts. Take one nipple at a time in my mouth while fondling the other heavy bag in my hands. Wanted to motorboat and titty-fuck them.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie," Mom said with a warm smile. Not a lusty smile. Just the kind of smile mothers were actually supposed to give their sons.

If she wasn't having the same thoughts as me, why didn't she seem to care about the way I was kneading her ass between my hands like dough?

"Same to you," I said, kissing her on the forehead.

Mom smiled and ran her small hands over my hard chest.

My hard chest? I was a tenured professor who spent entirely too much time at his desk. In my youth, I'd always been stockier than I wished, and over time, I'd come to look back on stocky with nostalgia.

Yet that didn't sound right. It was like a description of a character I'd been asked to play or something. Somehow, when I glanced down, the body I saw felt familiar and right. I hadn't been transformed or replaced. This body, a body that one part of my mind was telling me was foreign, was, according to another part of me, essentially the same exact body I'd had for some years now. It was the one that truly belonged to me. Even if it was the kind of body you found on the cover of weightlifting magazines. Well, except for the fact that I hadn't been shorn of all body hair. I had short tufts of curled chest hair and a faint happy trail leading into my silk pajama pants. Not enough hair to hide my broad, swollen pecs or the hills and valleys of my shredded abdominals, but enough that I looked like a man rather than a freak.

"Why don't you go see if Todd and Holly would like to join us for coffee?" Mom asked. "The kids won't be up for hours."

"Too right," Rob said with a snort. "Pat won't be up before noon, the lazy bum."

Natalie slapped his hand. "Don't call your son a lazy bum," she said.

Mom had not slipped away from me yet. I ran a hand through her hair, tucked a lock behind her ear. Her eyes, so wide and dark, surrounded by long, thick lashes, had me all but hypnotized. Not so much so, though, that I didn't stare down the front of her apron, taking in the view of her stunning cleavage. Most men would find those breasts too large, the same as they would her ass. I was sure of it. They were way, way more than a handful. But I wouldn't wish them any smaller. As far as I was concerned, there was just more of her to play with. And only in the exact right areas anyway.

I suddenly remembered she'd asked me a question. And it hadn't been about what I wanted to do to her breasts. It had been about Todd. And Holly. And coffee.

"Okay," I said.

Natalie looked at us without expression.

We kissed each other on the lips before Mom pulled away. An innocent little peck. But it sure got my blood flowing. I watched her ass sway as she walked over to the counter.

"None of the kids are awake?" I asked my sister.

"Nope," Natalie said. "Pat and Sean were up all night playing video games. They were still awake when I was getting up."

"But! They're most definitely not lazy bums," Rob rushed to add.

Natalie smiled over her shoulder. "They haven't seen each other in a long time."

"Mel should be up pretty soon though," Mom said. "Did you know she gets up most mornings at four to practice gymnastics? And still has a 3.9 GPA? I don't know how that girl finds the time for everything."

"She's impressive all right," I said, wondering what excuse most of my students had for getting such bad grades when none of them were likely to be headed to the Olympics.

What students? When had I ever stood at the front of the classroom?

I was more and more certain that the personas and appearances that made us seem normal were illusions. The hyper-sexualized versions of us were the real ones.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

"Just out at the woodpile. Can't have Christmas without a fire," Mom said.

"Right. Got to ward off that balmy Florida winter," I said.

Mom smiled. "We may have moved out of the northeast, but his heart is still there. I'm not sure he'll ever forgive me for taking him away from his skiing and his hiking. As if we could keep paying those taxes, or his old back could take another New York winter."

I chuckled. That sounded just like Dad.

And, strangely, it did. I was sure this too was a lie. Dad's back was fine. And I wasn't sure my parents actually lived in Florida. But the man I'd grown up with would protest often and loudly if he'd ever been forced to move.

I glanced at my watch. Not much past eight. "You sure Todd and Holly will be up? I don't want to wake them." After a moment, I corrected myself. "Well, I'm sure Todd is. The day he doesn't beat the sun out of bed, he'll turn in his uniform. But Holly?"

"I just got a Merry X-mas text from her," Natalie said, holding up her smart phone. "A few minutes before you got up."

Mom pressed a tin of cookies into my hands. "Take this over there with you."

"Mom," I said. "I'm not going to see the neighbors. Technically, that's your house still."

Natalie laughed. "And you'll see them in a few minutes."

Mom blushed. "I know. But I don't care. Take them with you."

"To the apartment above your garage," I said.

"Shoo, shoo," she said, waving her hands at me. But she still looked like a fertility goddess, even as she was playing the part of traditional matron and Keeper of the Christmas cookies, and sounding like the woman I'd grown up with. It was all kinds of disorienting.

Not to mention titillating.

Being reminded of my mother as my mother a moment after I'd been fantasizing about giving her a rimjob and titty-fucking her and much else besides was like a splash of cold water across my face. Finally, a hint of the guilt I should have been feeling showed up.

But it was only a hint. And that only turned me on more. I wanted to fuck my mother. And my sister too, as long as I was at it. But I didn't want it to feel normal and okay. I wanted it to be wrong. Wanted them to know that I was so hot for them that I didn't care how depraved it made me to seduce them.

Would they be open to that? Were they as immune to socially appropriate feelings of revulsion at the very thought of incest as I was?

I hadn't noticed them staring at me as blatantly as I was at them, but somehow I was sure that yes, they were. That in fact, I'd fucked both of them many times before. Especially Mom. I couldn't really remember it, not in any detail, but I had the vague sense that it had happened. I'd been a teenager the first time I had sex with my mother.

And, strangely enough, we'd both looked almost exactly as we did now, even back then. I was sure of that, as little sense as it made.

"Well, are you still here?" Mom asked, swatting a dish towel at me. "Off with you, already! Those cookies aren't going to deliver themselves."

"Okay, okay," I said.

"Careful," Rob said. "I accidentally violated one of the cookie rules this morning by stealing one off the tray while it was still warm, and you should have seen what happened. I might only be her son-in-law, but I'm not sure it'd be any safer for you."

Natalie slapped his wrist playfully. "Oh, stop, all she did was pinch your cheek."

"Yeah, but it was embarrassing. Made me feel like a little kid," he said.

Mom, Nat and I laughed at that. Then I slipped out the kitchen door to the driveway.

I bounded up the steps to the garage apartment, taking them three at a time. My breath was steady as could be when I finished, my heart-rate unaffected. I wasn't sure that would have been true even when I was eighteen. Maybe it would have been, but if so, it probably shouldn't have been. It certainly shouldn't have been now.

Yet, in a way, everything felt right. Everything.

#

As soon as I walked in, Holly rushed over and threw her arms around me, pecked on the cheek, and wished me a merry Christmas. I kissed her back and returned the greeting.

The embrace was a bit too warm, I thought. I didn't know her that well. I'd hardly seen her and Todd over the years, especially when he'd been deployed abroad. And we were the kind of family that hugged rather awkwardly. At least, when we were pretending to be ordinary mortals, we were. And that was all it was, was pretending.

Was Holly like us?

There weren't two different versions of her. And the one and only version of my sister-in-law had the face of a woman who was well into her forties. A woman who even now looked better than most women in their twenties, if not as good as she herself must have at that age, sure. But compared to the supernatural beauty of my mother and sister, the slight imperfections in her face stood out. She had deeper wrinkles than even my mother did, at least the version of my mother that I was almost certain was actually the real one.

I also noticed that Holly was wearing a family appropriate outfit. Her pajama pants were black silk patterned with tiny silver kittens, and her white T-shirt was a few sizes too big. As I recalled, she didn't have much curves to be hiding under the baggy clothes anyway, but her choice of attire was still telling. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that was as to be expected. She was not, in fact, like us. I wasn't sure what exactly that meant. Wasn't sure what exactly we were, or why there were super sexy versions of us fighting to edge out our more ordinary guises. But whatever the story was, it didn't apply to my brother's wife.

Holly stepped back. She craned her neck to look up at me. Even in my idealized form, I wasn't much above average height. But Holly was just so small, in both height and build, that I felt like her son Sean must have around everyone else.

"You hungry? I made bacon and eggs," she said, reaching for a covered frying pan.

I rubbed my eyes. Glancing around the small apartment, which besides the two adjoining bedrooms wasn't much more than the a tiny kitchenette and sitting area with a couch and TV, it hit me. "Where's Todd?"

"He went for one of his runs. Last night, he said he wasn't going to, so I made breakfast enough for three. But when he got up this morning, he said he needed to preemptively work off some of the excess calories he expected to consume today. You know your mother and the holidays. Cookies, cakes, and treats everywhere. Not to mention the feasts she calls dinners. I've made my peace with it, but you know Todd. Anyway, he left a while ago, so he should be back in twenty minutes or so."

"Oh," I said. "Well, speaking of holiday over-eating, Mom sent these over," I gestured with the cookie tin. "And I'm supposed to ask if the two of you will join us for coffee."

Holly took the cookies from me with a chuckle. She popped the top, eyes going wide at the variety of delights contained therein. "So it begins," she said with a chuckle, taking out a piece of homemade peanut butter fudge. As she nibbled at it, making sounds typically reserved for the bedroom, she added, "Stay. Eat. Otherwise, it will go to waste. If Todd's pretending to be good, I'm sure he won't eat bacon and eggs. And then after he gets back and showers, we can all go down for coffee."

I shrugged and said, "If you insist."

"And I do," she said, fixing me a plate.

It was getting towards lukewarm. But it was good. The bacon was crisp but not cooked to the point of crumbling, and the scrambled eggs were neither runny nor dry.

"So what are you doing up this early?" she asked. "I'm used to it because of Todd. But what's your excuse? Thought you were a night owl."

"Just couldn't get back to sleep," I said.

Holly smiled into her mug of coffee, pretending her eyes weren't roaming up and down my body. "Christmas always does that to me. Used to be because I couldn't wait to see what I got. Then it got to be that I couldn't wait to see the kids faces when they saw what I got them. Guess it never changes."

"Yeah," I said, unable to think of anything less noncommittal. "Not that I'd know about that last part. The kids."

Holly blushed. "Forgive me if this is too blunt." A pause for a slow sip of coffee. "Why didn't you ever marry? I never got a straight answer out of Todd."