The incubus crest changes the redhead vixen's slender body

The Womb Tattoo – A Daughter’s Transformation

The morning light filtered through Rebecca’s bedroom curtains, painting golden stripes across her rumpled sheets. She stood before her full-length mirror, still damp from the shower, her skin flushed pink from the scalding water—and from other things.

Her fingers trembled as they traced the unfamiliar lines on her lower abdomen.

What the hell is this?

The mark was beautiful in a way that made her stomach clench. A coiling Ouroboros, its serpentine body forming an intricate circle, the Eye of Horus staring unblinkingly from its center. The lines shimmered faintly, as if lit from within by embers, the gold-and-black design standing stark against her porcelain skin.

It wasn’t there yesterday.

"W-What the hell is this?"

Rebecca swallowed hard, the young woman's pulse thundering in her ears. The mark sat just above her pelvis, directly over her womb—a thought that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

She turned slightly, examining her reflection from different angles. Something else was… different.

Her hips—already wide, already childbearing—seemed fuller, her curves more pronounced. The swell of her ass was rounder, the dip of her waist more exaggerated, her thighs thicker.

Like my body is… preparing.

"O-Ohmygod... I'm not even on the pill..."

The thought terrified her.

And yet—

A slow, liquid heat pooled between her legs as she remembered the stretch of her father’s fat cock, the burn of her ass taking him for the first time, the flood of his cum filling her both holes—

"Fuck," she whispered, her fingers drifting lower, brushing the damp curls between her thighs.

She was sore.

And wet.

So fucking wet.

The Spillage

Rebecca jerked her hand away as if burned, the pale vixen's cheeks flaming.

No. No, no, no—

She needed to get dressed. Needed to go to school. Needed to pretend everything was normal.

"F-Fuck..."

She grabbed her soccer jersey—Torino’s colors, deep maroon and blue—and yanked it over her head, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. The redhead vixen's usual sports bra felt tighter, her small B-cup breasts more sensitive than usual, her nipples aching against the constricting material.

Her shorts were next. Black, snug, the elastic waistband hugging her newly rounded wide hips.

And then—

A trickle.

Rebecca froze.

Something warm and thick slid down the inside of her thigh.

Oh God.

Her father’s thick creamy cum.

"..."

The hot, sticky load was still leaking down the pale vixen's toned thighs.

Her breath hitched, the lustful vixen's pussy clenching around nothing as another slow, taunting dribble escaped her fat ass, tracing a sticky path down her leg.

"Shit," she hissed, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at the mess, her face burning.

But it was no use.

The more she wiped, the more seemed to spill, the tender beauty's slender body failing to hold onto the massive creampie her father had planted inside her hungry womb.

A knock at her door made her jump.

"Rebecca?" Stefano’s voice was smooth, amused. "Breakfast is ready."

Rebecca’s throat tightened.

"I—I’ll be right there!"

She could feel him smirking through the door.

"Don’t take too long, piccola," he murmured, his footsteps retreating.

Rebecca exhaled shakily, her lithe fingers curling into fists.

Bastard.

He knew.

He always knew.

The Breakfast Table

The smell of coffee and fresh pastries filled the small kitchen, sunlight streaming through the window above the sink. Stefano leaned against the counter, sipping his espresso, his dark eyes tracking Rebecca’s every movement as she shuffled into the room.

She moved carefully, her thighs pressed together, her hips swaying with an unfamiliar weight.

"You’re walking differently," Stefano observed, setting his cup down.

Rebecca flinched, her grip tightening on the back of her chair.

"I-I’m sore," she muttered, her cheeks pink with lustful shame.

Stefano’s lips curled.

"Good."

Rebecca’s breath hitched.

"That’s not a good thing," she snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.

Stefano pushed off the counter, closing the distance between them in two strides. His fingers brushed her waist, his touch burning even through her jersey.

"Isn’t it?" he murmured, his thumb tracing the hem of her shorts, just skimming the sticky mess between her thighs.

Rebecca shivered, the young beauty's slender body betraying her again as her cunt fluttered, another trickle of his tainted cum escaping her fat ass.

"D-Dad—"

Stefano’s other hand slid under her shirt, the middle-aged man's palm scorching against the mark on her abdomen.

"You feel it, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice laced with the ring’s power. "The changes."

Rebecca nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Y-yes—"

"Your body is adapting," Stefano continued, his fingers digging into her hip. "Becoming stronger. Becoming mine."

Rebecca’s knees buckled, the redhead vixen's vision blurring as a fresh wave of heat flooded her veins.

Stefano caught her, his grip ironclad, his lips brushing her ear.

"And you love it."

Rebecca moaned, her resistance crumbling.

"I… I hate it," she lied, her voice trembling.

Stefano laughed, low and dark.

"Liar."

His fingers dipped beneath her waistband, teasing her sticky folds.

"You’re dripping, Rebecca."

Rebecca whimpered, her hips jerking forward.

"S-stop—"

Stefano pulled away, leaving her aching and empty.

"Eat your breakfast," he ordered, his tone deceptively light. "You’ll need your strength."

Rebecca stared at him, her chest heaving, her body throbbing.

"For what?" she whispered.

Stefano’s smile was predatory.

"For tonight."

The Realization

Rebecca’s stomach twisted, the young woman's cream filled pussy clenching around nothing.

Tonight.

More.

Always more.

The redhead vixen's lithe fingers drifted to the mark on her toned abdomen, the skin tingling beneath her touch.

She should be horrified.

She should run.

But as she watched her father sip his coffee, his dark eyes locked onto hers, she knew—

She wasn’t going anywhere.