That Damned Blessing Ch. 03

And then her legs began to move in time with the insistent urging of his hands and they were making love, the purest and most perfect love anyone had ever made. Their motion was instinctual, their heartbeats synced, their breath shared. This was what the both needed. This was what they had both needed since long before either of them were born.

This was completion.

His mouth moved away from hers just enough to whisper, "Does it feel good?"

"Oh God..."

"When I come, I'm going to shoot straight into your womb."

"Oh God!"

"Do you want that? Do you want my cum in you?"

"Oh fuck babe of fuck oh fuck, you know I do! You know I need it."

"Why?"

"For the baby..."

"What baby?"

"Ours. The first...the first of so many..."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes!"

"You want me to get you pregnant?"

"YES!"

"Tell me."

"Oh shit oh fuck babe please please please come in me! Come deep and knock me up! I want to feel our love growing inside me and our babies will be so perfect! I need you to impregnate me!"

"Ma'am?" Jake's voice yanked her hard back into reality to find herself sitting on the edge of the table, legs spread wide, panties pushed to the side and a pair of fingers buried in her snatch to the last knuckle. She squeaked an alarm, frantically looking around, first for Ryan -- he wasn't there -- and then for Jake, who seemed to be waiting outside at the entrance of the house.

"Just a minute!" she yelled unnecessarily loudly, her hands flying to make herself decent. A glance out the window showed Ryan by the river still, but she would have sworn he was hurriedly zipping his shorts up while blushing to put tomatoes to shame. One last check showed her to be arranged as well as she could arrange herself, although there was little she could do about the smell of her arousal clinging to the heavy, still air. "Come in."

An acutely uncomfortable Jake appeared, eyes determinedly on the floor. "I didn't see anything, I promise. Adouwe's back. I'll...um...fetch your son."

She groaned and buried her face in her hands as the apprentice shaman left. Nobody leads with "I didn't see anything" unless they'd seen everything. Jake had walked in on her fingering herself like a lunatic while imagining her son knocking her up, and of course Jake knew what she was masturbating to and oh God this all somehow kept getting worse!

A few seconds later Ryan entered the room, looking shellshocked, and asked, "Did you see..."

"Yes," she said miserably. "It felt completely real."

"Totally. Yeah." She could smell the whiskey on his breath and realized that he had hit the stuff pretty hard while waiting; she couldn't blame him. He pulled out a chair and sat down, and after a moment she joined him, sitting across the table from him to put as much distance between them as possible.

The door opened again and Jake entered, leading Adouwe, and the old man looked like he'd gone 12 rounds with a royally pissed Muhammad Ali. His face was essentially a large bruise, both eyes were blackened, and half his cranium was covered in a crude bandage that was tied like a sunhat under his chin. His arms were covered in welts and he walked with a noticeable limp that hadn't been present before.

As angry at the old man as they were, neither Ryan nor Jess could help but wincing at the sight, and Ryan said, "Man, looks like your mom really gave you a going-over."

"Eh?" Adouwe asked as he eased himself like fine china into an empty chair. "The Old Woman's not my mother."

"Wife?" Jess asked.

"Dear Christ no!" Adouwe replied with genuine horror. "She's just the Old Woman."

"Does she have a name?" Jess asked.

"Seems likely," Adouwe conceded.

Jake was at the back of the room digging in the cupboards, producing a fresh bottle of bourbon, a glass, and a liter bottle of aspirin. He set all three in front of Adouwe, who took an unhealthy amount of aspirin and washed it down with an unhealthy amount of Jim Beam. Jess was alarmed and pointed out, "You probably shouldn't take that much..."

"I shouldn't have done the ceremony on you either," Adouwe pointed out. "And if I hadn't done then what I shouldn't have done, then I wouldn't have had to do what I shouldn't have done now."

"I think I followed that," Ryan said with a furrowed brow.

"So, yeah, sorry," Adouwe told them. "That may be the most useless thing I've ever said, but it's true for what it's worth. But you didn't come here for apologies."

Ryan and Jess exchanged a look; they were still angry, but it was difficult to go off on a wizened old man who'd had the shit kicked out of him a few days before. Finally Ryan said, "We were hoping to get the ceremony reversed or canceled or whatever."

"It can't be reversed," Adouwe said, then groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "At least I don't know how to do it, and if I don't know then nobody else does either. What I'm hoping is that between all the shamans we can come up with something to counteract it. But first I need to know exactly what you've been going through. Don't leave out any details."

Mother and son exchanged another glance, this time complete with deep blushes, before Jess said, "It's...embarrassing..."

Adouwe sighed and waved a weary hand. "I'm an old man. I started training to be a shaman when I was five years old. That means I've seen and heard of everything people can do to each other, good and bad. You won't shock me, but you might give me some little piece of information that turns out to be the key to setting you two the right way up again."

They couldn't argue that, and soon enough Ryan and Jess were pouring their story out, and discovering that it was actually a relief to tell it to somebody. They talked about their dreams -- precisely the same in every detail for each of them -- as well as their increased arousal, physical changes, irrepressible sexual fantasies, waking visions, and loss of control.

When they were done, both Adouwe and Jake seemed lost in thought, and then they began speaking the native language to each other. Their discussion lasted far past the point were Ryan and Jessica became uncomfortable before finally switching back to English, with Adouwe saying, "As nearly as we can reckon it, your spirits are being...fused."

"Huh?" Ryan and Jess asked simultaneously.

"Things happen at the same time on two...well, I suppose you'd call them planes of existence," Jake explained. "There's the physical, which is what you see and smell and hear and touch, and then there's the spiritual, where our...essences, I guess you'd say, operate. Our souls, maybe, though that's not the right term."

"The spiritual plane is where we get out power from, the energy that makes each of us different from everything else, even though we're all a part of the same thing," Adouwe said. "Everything, living or not, has that essence, and people have the most of all mortal things. Now normally our spirits...well it's hard to explain, but let's say they touch each other, when we do things that affect other people. Physical actions, emotions, words, even thoughts, they all...damn it, I can't say it in English."

"A way to think of it would be color," Jake supplied. "Every spiritual essence has its own color, unique among everything that's ever lived, and every time time one touches another it takes on a little of the color of the other. It's a permanent change, and it can be huge or tiny depending on what it is. Spend your life in love with the same person or kill someone and that's a big change; wave to someone or say hello and that's a little one. But no matter how many and how big the changes are, the color remains unique, remains the individual you call you."

"I think I understand the idea," Jess nodded.

"But what's happening to you two on the spiritual plane is different," Adouwe picked up. "Because of the ceremony, your individual colors are changing into a single, third color. Your spirits are...well, they're becoming a single spirit. Your bodies on the physical plane are remaining separate things, but on the spiritual plane you're becoming a single person."

Ryan leaned forward and said, "I caught zero logic in all that. And that last bit? Pure gibberish."

Jake frowned but said, "OK, different example. Let's say you've got two...rugs, whatever, different colors. If you washed them together each might take on some of the color of the other but the colors would still be different -- that's what's normally happens when spirits touch each other. But lets say that instead of washing them you pulled them apart right down to their fibers and wove the fibers into a new rug. The fibers are now all jumbled up so when you look at it, it looks like a new color that's a combination of the other two. The fibers still exist so in a way both rugs still exist, but they're now each an inseparable part of the other and they make a new color that didn't exist before. Your spirits are in the process of being unraveled down to their tiniest fibers and woven together into something new. Once that process is completed, you'll be one thing forever."

Ryan ran both sets of fingers through his hair and muttered, "This is such bullshit."

Jess was quieter -- what Adouwe and Jake were saying was making a troubling kind of sense. "Can the process be stopped?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Adouwe nodded. His two black eyes made him look like a raccoon in a red tee shirt. "We're doing everything we can but we don't have a solution yet."

"Look, you guys drugged us," Ryan said. "You gave us some strong-ass hallucinogens and we're tripping out, right? But drugs have antidotes. Or they wear off on their own. It can't be that hard!"

"You said it yourself," Jess told him quietly. "Drugs don't explain this. Nothing rational can explain this."

Ryan looked like he wanted to say something pointed in objection, but he didn't. What could he say?

"Jake tells me you're leaving in six days," Adouwe said. "Day after tomorrow, every shaman in these islands is going to be in this village, putting their heads together about this. It will take a while, because this is a bloody huge problem and no bloody huge problem has a simple solution. We'll need you to come back on the morning of your last full day here. Be prepared to stay until dark, because it might take that long."

"OK, but we need something now," Ryan said, jabbing the table with his finger. "The way things are going I might already have gotten mom pregnant by then."

"I'm on birth control, you could do come inside me as much as you wanted to and I wouldn't get pregn -- OH!" Jess covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide.

"That kind of unwanted admission is the sort of thing that might happen," Jake said. "And worse. Remember, you're being pulled together by forces you can't see and they're very insistent, so be prepared for it."

"Ryan suggested that we avoid being alone together," Jess said. "Is that a good idea?"

"That's a good start. I'd avoid being alone as much as you can," Adouwe said. "If you go into the sort of state that you already have a couple of times today, someone else there to say something might pull you out of it before it goes too far. But if you're both alone then you might get drawn together and do something you shouldn't."

"But...we've done some embarrassing things..." Jess pointed out delicately. "I'd rather be embarrassed alone in my room than in front of everyone I know on the island."

"It's your choice," Adouwe said. "Just know that the more time you spend with each other, or the more time you spend alone, the more your spirit-selves will take control."

"Spirit-selves my ass," Ryan muttered, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. "Come on mom, let's get out of here, this is a waste of time."

"My time, and Jake's, might be better spent looking for a solution," Adouwe admitted. "Remember what I said, and come back here the day before you leave."

"We will," Jess said, rising from the table. Perhaps Ryan wasn't being particularly polite, but he wasn't wholly wrong: from a practical point of view, this trip had been a waste of time. The shamans had to put their heads together to solve this problem, and the presence of Ryan and herself were only distractions. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking them for?" Ryan demanded. "I'll thank them when they figure this out. Until then it's their goddamned fault."

Jess winced, but again Ryan had a point.

Before he left the room, he turned and glared at Adouwe and Jake and said, "If you guys don't fix this shit, I am cursing your asses. I'm laying the smack down on everyone on these stupid islands. You'll wish that kid had never been born when I'm done with you."

The two shamans looked genuinely frightened and assured Ryan and his mother that they would do everything they could; in fact, they assured them that about a dozen times as they headed back to the jeep, and they were still assuring them when they drove away.

When they were two minutes out of the village, Jess asked her son, "Can you really curse them like you said?"

"If those clowns can lay curses, how hard can it be?" he asked. "Spirit colors, ghost rugs -- they must take us for idiots."

"You didn't feel like...there was something to it? I didn't want to believe it any more than you do, but what they said felt like the truth, or at least as close as they could come."

"It's all just drugs and hallucinations," he insisted, his jaw set at a stubborn angle as he stared at the track ahead.

"Maybe you're right," she said. "But let's take precautions. Let's not be alone together...let's not even talk unless we have to. The less contact we have, the less chances for one of those 'hallucinations' to happen."

He nodded, then, "I do have to say one thing: I don't know if I even want one kid, much less sixty. Imagine the debt just to put them through school."

They spoke little on the way back to the hotel -- maybe they were both afraid to, uncertain as they were as to what perversions they might spout if they started to talk -- and nothing untoward happened. Nothing, that is, except for the growing sexual excitement that left Jess' dress soaked through and her seat wet when she finally got out of the jeep, and left a large precum stain on Ryan's shorts -- and the fact that getting so horny in each other's company seemed so normal that neither of them thought it odd.

Ryan went down to the beach when they arrived while Jess joined the Frauen-Trinkclub. Ryan was alone on the beach for a short time, however, as Lexy was aboard the first bus returning from the worksite; just as he was heading back to the hotel for dinner, he saw her lugging a heavy picnic basket and blanket his way. He ran to her, kissed her, and relieved her of her burdens. A few moments later they were busy eating, and he asked, "So how was your day?"

"Dull, if I were to be honest!" she laughed. "All I did all day was stare at construction. All the big machines moving about was quite interesting for an hour, but after that I began wishing I was back here with you. How was yours?"

"It was...I ended up taking another driving expedition with my mom."

"Oh! Did you save any more children from certain death?"

"No, nothing that gratifying. It was...hell, I don't even want to talk about it. It was very annoying and useless."

"Oh no! Your mother seems to be quite a sweet lady to me, but I suppose I'm not her child."

"It wasn't her fault. Just...stuff we ran into. People being idiots. I just...wanted it to be a productive day and instead it was a waste of time and energy."

"Awww, my hero sounds grumpy," she pouted. "Maybe there's something I can do to cheer you up?"

Ryan smiled. "Yeah, that would be great. I could really use it."

As the young couple was off finding a quiet spot to indulge, Paul was just climbing onto the hotel's deck after disembarking from the last worksite bus. He greeted his wife with a wave, and she greeted him by grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up to their room.

It was predictable by now: the sex was wonderful but neither son nor mother could climax without thinking of the other. Unbeknownst to each other, they both had the same vision -- Ryan taking Jess like a dog on the beach, in broad daylight and unashamed, him swatting her ass as he pummeled her, she working his cock like she was born to it and begging him to knock her up. They both finished at the same instant with gasping, convulsive orgasms, and they both felt the same shame when they were done.

Day Six

Jess woke with a soft, pained groan. Her dream -- or whatever -- had been long, endless. Ryan was fucking a shorter, younger, brunette version of her over and over again -- fucking Seetsahm. She'd orgasmed in her sleep more than once, but she had no idea how many times. If it had been her husband in her dream instead of her son, it would have been the greatest dream she had ever had instead of the worst.

And as rapturous as that had been, she could feel the consequences of it. She felt like she'd been fucked all night by a football squad, just pummeled and forced to orgasm over and over and now she was bruised and sore and --

Wait -- why was her pussy bruised? It was a dream! How could she be bruised by a dream? And did that mean...

Ignoring the soreness, she vaulted from bed and dashed to the bathroom. In her dreams Ryan had come in her pussy, her ass, her mouth, her face, and her hair, and she had a terrible feeling about what she would see when the lights went on. But on the bathroom light went -- and she was clean. Well, no not clean clean, she was dripping with sweat and reeked of sex and looked like she'd been rode hard and put up wet, but she was apparently semen-free.

Will miracles never cease.

She climbed into the shower. Her hope for hot water was disappointed, but the cold water actually felt good, invigorating and even healing -- she could feel it wash away the pain and soreness like dust. When she stepped out of the shower she felt revived and strong, like she could go down to her son's room and get another half-dozen orgasms on his dick; it didn't occur to her how inappropriate a thought that was until later when she was at breakfast.

She began brushing her hair, focusing on that simple mechanical task. Two minutes in, though, something began to occur to her: her hair was different. The length was the same, the color, the straightness, but there had been a change during the night. Like most gingers, Jess had thin hair with fewer follicles per square inch than most people with other hair colors have. Today, though, her hair was thicker, heavier, with much more body than it normally had. It was such an unexpected development that it took her several minutes to satisfy herself that she wasn't just imagining it.

She slammed her brush down and glared into the mirror. More changes! More madness. It wasn't that any of the changes in her body were bad -- any aging woman would welcome younger skin and thicker hair. It was that they were impossible. She knew the island's doctor would be of no assistance with it, but she couldn't get too angry with him: she was pretty sure the best medical minds in the world would be overwhelmed at what was happening with her body.

She was also sure they'd put her in a rubber room if she told them everything else that was going on.

Ryan almost ran down the hall, moving so quickly that he had gone two doors past the one he wanted before he realized it. He threw a look each way then hustled back, pausing to take one last look over his shoulder before he knocked. The next four seconds took seventeen hours to pass, but the door did open.

"Well hello cutie," Trish Hendricks said in her unreconstructed Southie accent, leaning against the door frame. She was wearing pink -- pink pumps, pink thigh-highs, and a pink teddy so sheer it did nothing to hide her pink nipples, pink panties so tiny that they barely covered her pink slit. Even her lipstick was pink. "What a surprise!"