June Likes to Decide

"Are you trying to skip the lessons altogether?" she moaned, doing nothing to peel John away from her as he toyed with her body. "An artist needs patience."

"An artist needs patience for a work of art, June." She gave him a bemused glance until he added, "You're more like a Muse."

"You should know I'm a sucker for the classics," she chortled before continuing to pour the drinks. "But if you're staying for the lessons, then it's my duty to teach you properly."

John caught the hint of exasperation there and paused his ministrations. Right... I'm... Suddenly unsure of what to do with himself, bare as he was, he promptly backed off.

"'The Indigo Daughter,'" she said as the juice poured into the second cup. "That was easily my favorite."

"Ah..." The cup was ice-cold when she handed it to him, and he tried to recall the details of that older story: the art he did for it was terrible, and the tale was sickly-sweet with how lovingly, and how eagerly, the couple had fucked all across a kingdom of men who could not speak and women who could not see. A silent lover, and a woman of blind lust, finding voice and beauty-

"Grgk-!" John nearly choked as the potent drink washed down his throat; he had taken nearly half the cup in a greedy gulp, and his throat burned for his folly.

You've ingested poison! You are immune to its effects.

Achievement unlocked! "Paragon Sober"!
Discover the less fun fact about being a well-rounded paragon: intoxication is basically impossible for you now!
+3 WIS
+3 INT

But I never even got to try it... John felt odd, regretting that. Wait, but I could turn it off-

"Easy on the Tequila Sunrise!" she gaily laughed before sipping hers. She didn't so much as grimace; John was still struggling to keep his composure, as being immune to poison didn't make it taste any better. "There's enough to come back to, if you eventually find you like it."

He put the glass back down and did his best to ease the grimace he could feel on his face. "I don't think I'm... much of a drinker."

"Maybe it's for the best... being a growing young man and all." June pulled up on the straps of her outfit and, in an act of mercy to her crotch, let the elastic floss she called a bikini finally fall upon (nearly sling-shot towards) the floor. She reached behind without looking to lift herself onto the counter, and her bald, glistening crotch beckoned John towards her. "... And growing young men should focus more on eating healthy."

John thought to say something dashing, perhaps a painfully food-related pun as he neared her; nothing came to him, save the urge to lower his face into her thighs and, finally, finding out if she tasted the way he had always fantasized.

Earlier, at Felicity's...

She tasted a bit like her body soap, and alot like the train of women John had her sample the night before, Moira decided when she had first tasted John's mother in the morning. Moira was sure she'd get away with it after that encounter in bed... and then again after breakfast... and the shower, and the second breakfast... but the car was absolutely the last stop, she promised herself!

So why, now, in this den of dishonest dicks, in this backroom of bogus buggery, in this carnival of carnal contraptions... why was she so fixated on the naked woman lowering herself onto yet another bed? This voice, and its strange fixation on alliterations, seemed rather dismissable compared to the heavenly scents of this place, the growing warmth in her crotch, and the willing, loving woman before her. But I'm... I'm not gay! Moira uselessly, falsely exclaimed in her head as her body climbed onto the bed.

"Haven't I been good to you, Moira?" Brenda cooed as Moira stopped just short of leaping on top of her.

"Y-Yes... I... I guess so..."

Brenda pouted. "'I guess so...?'"

"I mean, of course... it's just... so hard to think past... you know..."

"I know, honey..." Brenda's legs flourished with a practiced grace, and her right ankle landed on Moira's left shoulder, leaving the redhead staring down at the now-familiar sex. "But see, the polite thing to do... is to return the favor, right?"

"Mrs. Newman... I... I mean, I want to... but I-I..."

"Please, honey..." Moira caught a glint in the older woman's eye, of enlarged lust or something more sinister, but she couldn't quantify it in her current state. "When we're alone? Just call me... mom."

"W-What?" Moira shook her head as she tried to overcome the bizarre request.

"It's just a bit of roleplay, sweetie... you can do that for me, can't you?"

"I... I didn't really... I mean, that's..." Moira's gaze went far and away, to uncomfortable memories that had no place here. Brenda guided her other foot onto Moira's shoulder and, with a surprising strength, hooked Moira down onto her, burying the redhead's face between her legs. The musky scent of Brenda's lust filled Moira's nose along with the incense, and her protests changed to a horny whimper as she began to awkwardly lap up the excess of fluids leaking from the eager mother.

"There's a good girl... you're getting... ah... good at this, baby..."

Moira moaned softly as Brenda repositioned herself, pinning Moira's face to the bed in a more aggressive stance than in the morning: her thighs spread apart further, her pelvis grinding into Moira's face with a suffocating pressure, and Brenda tweaked her own nipples greedily as she mounted her new partner. A droplet of milk appeared at each tip; she had been stimulating her breasts too eagerly of late, but Brenda couldn't care less-

"You started without me?" Mrs. Newman looked towards the room's only real entrance or exit, and there stood Felicity, grinning wild with her ponytail forsaken for long, wild locks of black. Her glasses and clothes had gone too, and so all that remained of that oddly bold shopkeeper was the pale flesh, the freckles, and her eager wink to one of her favorite return customers. "You know I should be the first to help new customers..." She pouted with obvious insincerity, and all but skipped towards the wall to equip a strap-on.

"You took too long," Brenda moaned her complaints. She eased off as she felt a **** suckling from the girl beneath her, and Moira's gasps for air were soon heard by both women.

The two laughed as Moira tried to regain her senses. "B-Brenda-"

"Mom, I said... or mommy, if you prefer."

"That's... that's not-" Down Brenda went again, smothering the Warden.

"I'm almost ready for you, Felicity-honey-"

"You? No, this is a product trial for the new customer, silly!" The menacing rubber pillar pointed at the Warden.

Brenda complied, and readjusted herself until Moira could sit up, gulping down a bit of air and a bit of Mrs. Newman as the latter scooped her up in an awkward hug. Moira had enough sense to identify the bobbing, plastic love toy before her: a Hubachi Tanaka 5000, more vibrating cock than back massager. Moira had burned through three of them herself, though, here, it had been modified for mounting onto a custom, vibrating strap-on hilt. It was comparable to John's in size, Moira would have guessed, which meant it was monstrous and terrifying to think of someone else using it on her, no matter her personal experience.

Moira opened her mouth to complain, to demand Felicity cease her approach, to ask Brenda to release her... "Yes..." Wait, I mean... well... but oh, it would be exactly what I need right now...

Moira moaned and squeezed her thighs together as Brenda scooped her upright and tightened her hug from behind, taking liberty with the teenager's breasts and fiercely kissing her pale neck. Moira turned to meet the MILF and kiss her in return, her body quivering as her pleasure was already set to peak without the shopkeeper's attentions. Pressed-together legs were parted by deft hands, and Felicity's narrow body was soon between those paladin thighs.

Moira pulled away from Brenda's mouth, whispering, "Brenda..."

"Just call me mommy, if you like," she cooed back.

"M... Mommy...?" Brenda rubbed the girl's head with her left while teasing her clit with her right, forcing Moira' body to buck and spasm as the power of the room washed over and into her.

Felicity hoisted the Warden's legs onto her shoulders and guided the vibrator to the glistening slit under her, shaking her head in disbelief. "Gosh, I love my job."

Back upstairs at the Summers residence...

"Ha-ha-ho! John! This is... this is very- oh!"

June Summers had welcomed many men, young and slightly less young, into her home for... tutoring, as John might eventually learn, but none had so deftly overpowered the rest as the narrow-bodied student beneath her. He had made a satisfying meal out of the lunch she offered, and even now continued to eat; on her suggestion that they move upstairs, because she was now all too eager to take the vigorous young man to her bed, he had hoisted her thighs onto his shoulders and lifted her fully over him. Squealing she had bent over his head, both for fear of hitting a light fixture and for fear of being dropped. Her massive chest bounced against the back of his head as he marched.

But despite the weight of a fully-grown and stacked woman wrapped around his head, John may as well have been a statue, and even now he marched up the steps with an impossible familiarity with her house. "John, how- oh... oh...!"

Her thighs squeezed his ears too tightly for him to comprehend her, but he didn't mind: he had opened two tiny tunnels to float in front of him and under her ass where she wouldn't see them, the other ends opened right over his eyes. The effect was one of binoculars with just a touch of disorientation, but they got the jump done: he could find his way up the stairs with relative ease. It was "no magic," or "stop making her come..." besides, this totally doesn't count, he reassured himself.

June half-moaned, half-laughed at the absurdity of being taken up the stairs while mounted on a man's shoulders, and the giddiness mixed the pleasure of his eager tongue. John's dedication more than warranted the accelerated course materials today, she decided. At last, at the top of the stairs, he relented on his mad quest: he took a knee, and let his rider dismount. "Oh, John, that was... so..."

John rose again, trying to appear casual and dashing as he leaned on the staircase railing. "Sorry, I'm not sure which is your bedroom, so..."

She was about to admonish him, and his cocky attitude warranted it... but the heat between her legs and his obvious erection made it a mere footnote to be addressed later. Wordlessly, with a half-open mouth and a lustful glower, she turned and slowly paced towards the end of the hall; her swaying, naked form didn't require words. Eagerly he followed, noting the nicer furniture and, for the first time since he had entered her house, the appearance of actual, mundane photographs on her vanity, right by the-

[_______]

John remained fixated on the vanity. Did I... receive a notification just now? What was it...?

John blinked at a bizarre, head-sized statue on the vanity that he was sure had a pop-up over it just a second ago. It was clearly set apart from the rest of the furnishings, and detailed in its grotesque construction, yet too unlike June's work. The statue was of some kind of goddess or mythological woman, John guessed, but besides the four crossed legs and four breasts between the four arms--each with a hole, as if they were meant to hold something thin--the creature barely seemed humanoid given its monstrous head scarred with unknown symbols. He found himself drawn to it, and to a lesser extent to the photograph by the shrine: a large-breasted, beautiful goth girl and, smiling by her side, a shy, nerdy, and ultimately flat-chested companion in denim overalls over a plaid shirt.

John opened his mouth to ask about either when a notification finally did appear.

Kingdom detected (faint). Kingdom identified: Mu, the Drowned Deserts. Throne: occupied. King: present. Habitability: A-. Other information unavailable at this time.

What the Hell...?