Laundry

Sara watched her mom close the door, before pulling her phone back out. Only at two percent, and as Sara sat there watching the phone boot back up, she was cut off by her mother hollering from upstairs, "Get the lead out young lady, laundry is starting in ten minutes, and if you're not helping, you're not getting your clothes washed."

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Sara left her phone to boot and charge. She walked around her room, collecting her dirties, and went ahead and shed her sheets, the mattress beneath soaked still with her seed. Reaching into the back of her closet, she grabbed out a crop-cut tee shirt she'd never been confident enough to wear and a ratty pair of booty shorts that she wouldn't dare to wear out in public. Pulling it on, Sara smirked in the mirror; obviously a laundry day outfit, but still putting her now fit and attractive body on full display. The shirt covered her nipples but was low cut, the top of her cleavage visible through the collar, and the hem letting the bottom of her now perky tits peek out underneath. Her shorts were left over from when she was little and had cuts and stains from years of use, and on her new toned body, they fit like they were painted on her, pulled up to a high waist they covered the top of her ass, but her round cheeks hung out of the bottom. The front was more difficult, with her high and tight flaccid package making a bulge that would be awkward around the rest of her family, but was perfect to be around a mom who Sara knew thirsted for futanari. Didn't help that the thing would occasionally flop out if Sara spread her legs too much.

Barely covered by her clothes, Sara hoisted her laundry hamper onto her hip and stepped out of her room. Stopping at each of her siblings rooms, she grabbed the bags out of their hampers. They were all wooden, with a canvas bag inside. Miriam was a fan of functionality and aesthetic, so the house got to have nice things. Hefting the heavy load downstairs, Sara joined her mother in the laundry room. Miriam was doubled over, sorting out her own laundry. Sara took a moment to enjoy the sight of her mother. Miriam's long toned legs were on display for Sara, as she was wearing a thin green jersey fabric dress, effectively a long tee shirt, that left her panty lines clearly visible. Walking up behind her mom, Sara set down the hamper and started to do the same. They worked in silence for a moment, Sara setting aside her siblings bags to start on her own, before Miriam started, "So how's the job hunt going for you hun?"

Sara cleared her throat, recognizing that even with her preferences changed, her mother was still her mother, "Oh you know, it's hard. Not a lot of places that pay well are willing to be flexible around a school schedule." Sara said with a sigh. Pulling out some of her wet sheets, she cursed softly, before lifting them up and setting them on the pile with the whites. Miriam tried hard not to let out an audible moan as she took in that smell again. To her mind, recently retconned, it was all new and exciting, feminine and musky. It smelled like her husband's seed, and a bit like her own cum. Fuck, it smelled like how she was when her man bread her like the slut she was. Her panties dampening, Miriam tried to continue on, struggling to find the right words.

Sara looked over at her mom and noticed the issues she was having. With a smirk, Sara mused, "You know, I could always take a page out of Ayla's book, see about making some content for the internet to eat up." Sara adjusted how she was crouched, and her little package flopped out in full view of her mother. Miriam's eyes went wide she reasoned 'Sara always had both... But I never really saw much she's grown.'

"But I think I'd do better on seedier parts of the internet, don't you think Mommy?" Sara said, pulling her shirt up to flash her mother quickly. Between her legs, her cock was starting to grow, enjoying the attention of her mother. Miriam pried her eyes away as she nodded in blind agreement, "That sounds like a good idea. But let's focus on what we have to do today."

Throwing a loads worth of darks into the washer, Miriam stood up and leaned against the machine. Miriam's knees were weak beneath her, and she found herself leaning against the machine, her ass stuck out towards Sara, the hem of her dress lifted by Miriam, the fist holding on to cloth unconsciously.

There, Sara saw the holy land. The fabric was a thin lace that left little to the imagination, and it seemed that Miriam kept herself shorn. Sara's cock twitched, in a swing growing from 6 to 10 inches as she took this in.