Was there even a question?

The inside of the Grisham family house is a good deal less ramshackle than David's home, a lot more well-furnished and well-maintained. David understands it as a result of money. Something his family has always lacked while others have had a great amount. This fact has only begun to bother him recently. As a child, he was impervious to the stresses of poverty. As he got older, he began to feel the pinches more. The nights where there wasn't enough food for his voracious appetites, the winters where nice things would be sold, then the summers where they would be bought back, usually at a loss. His parents weren't good with their money, a trait that he fears he has picked up as well. One of his refuges from this was visiting his neighbors. What started as a relationship with the Grisham's eldest son became a bond with their youngest daughter, closer to his own age. When the eldest son had gone to war, his presence, exempt from combat, had been a welcome thing in their house. Now, with their son back from war, but gone to seek a better life in bigger cities, his role changes again.

All this to say that even a simple relationship, one born initially out of nothing but obligate kindness, evolved into a series of complex emotions and conflicting loyalties.

With the father Grisham, it is a tale of adoptive fatherhood turned sour. The child he once welcomed over and would have gladly given his daughter's hand if the hormones of youth had not taken their passions prematurely became an almost sinister figure. Ignoring the similarity in age, the outsider can only ever be the defiler. If the old farmer had known that it was his own daughter who had been the initiate, it is unlikely his irrational belief would have changed. With the mother Grisham, it is almost the opposite. At some point, in her eyes, the perception of the sandy-haired youth changed fundamentally. Perhaps it is either as a result of his maturation, or some change in the meeting of her physical needs by her husband, maybe something of both. She had watched the shoulders fill out, the beanpole nature of his early teen years turning into something more pleasing. He was imperfect, but life rarely hands out perfection, the key was how much he did right.

There was no trepidation to intimacy with him on her part, especially not when she would see how he made her daughter's mind wander. The hesitation was purely his, both the poisoned well of the woman perceived initially as a child seen as an adult and the fear of the father Grisham. A fear that did not win out when faced with the same thoughts of his daughter. Hard to say where the alteration happens, either from the still-alive if buried childhood impression or some biological faculty that sees her as lacking the fertility of her daughter. The human-animal is too complex to attribute anything to primality and too dumb to attribute anything to self-awareness.

"Say, where's uh... Mr. Grisham?" David tries to make nervous conversation. The daughter, Annabelle (She's Annie in his mind) has retreated upstairs for a short time, leaving him to deal singularly with the mother Grisham, who hums in the kitchen happily.

"He's away hun," She croons back cheerily, the sizzling intimacy she spoke with earlier seems replaced fully with good-natured nurture instincts. It's as if just hearing the boy's voice and not seeing his face takes her back to a time before her feelings for him were so... intense. It's soothing to him, the tone also takes him back to a time before his feelings about her became so difficult to parse.

"Oh yeah?" He asks back innocently. "Where to?"

"Hank Jr (The eldest Grisham son) invited him down to Albuquerque to see the new place. He won't be back for another few days."

"Is that so... ?" David mutters to himself.

"You don't need to worry, hon," She emerges from the kitchen, dishing a pair of eggs onto his plate on top of a pair of toasted slices of bread. When he picks one up and bites into it, the yolk explodes out and runs down his chin. As somebody who has eaten several different forms of children before, this still strikes you as notably gross. However, the taste response he gets lights his brain up like a constellation. "You know I ain't gonna tell him about you and Annabelle."

She sits across from him, herself not eating, simply looking at David with her chin rested on the back of her tented fingers. The look in her eyes is... complicated.

David sloppily swallows his mouthful of food before offering back a sheepish "Thanks, Mrs. Grisham."

She scoffs, "Davie if I have to tell you to call me Maggie one more time I will take you over my knee."

David mutters an apology and goes silent for a moment, continuing to eat. He doesn't stop when he hears the sound of Annie coming from upstairs, nor when she walks behind his chair and drapes her arms around his neck, chest pressing into his neck.

"You have a good shower, hun?" The mother Grisham asks her daughter.

"I think I washed the smell of horse off of me at least."

David finishes his plate and stands slowly, letting Annie slide her arms from around him as he steps into the kitchen and washes his plate. He's only out of the room for a few seconds, but it's long enough for the low drone of a soft-spoken conversation to break out into an exclamation.

"What has gotten into you today?" The mother Grisham protests loudly, voice still playful.

David keeps his head ducked to his work. The changes you've worked on him are already taking effect. He feels like he could go again, even though it's only been thirty minutes at the absolute most, and he's barraged by thoughts that are positively filthy. Doing things to the daughter that he doesn't think the mother should see, and vice-versa. He battles these thoughts, unwilling to accept them.

"Why do you hesitate, my son?" You finally break through and ask him.

"Lord!" He staggers, catching himself speaking out loud and clamping his mouth shut.

"I have already told you, spare no lust your body may feel. Why do you hesitate with the mother Grisham?"

"Lord, it's just..." He responds mentally, struggling to find the words. "I would feel weird."

"Does her body not pleasure you, my son?"

He blushes, mind full of thoughts he has spent the better part of his adolescence battering down. The lush curves of the matronly body, the sweet face, touched now by the barest traces of age but still warm and alive with mature beauty. It's an attraction unlike the one he shares to the daughter. He lusts not just for the fertile young body, but for the mind. As much as it is hormonal, there is something like love there. The attraction to the mother is a primal lust, the wide hips which have already proven capable of childrearing, the ample thighs and breasts. He pictures sometimes having a mouthful of those pillowy thighs, biting down against the soft pale skin. It blurs the line between animal and man, there could be no more proper word for it than primal.

"It is not her body, my lord. I simply see her as something like family."

"And have you never lusted for your family, my son?"

He gasps aloud, unable to restrain it. He won't say that you're right, but he knows you are. It brings a shame unlike any other.

"Relax, my son. If I had wanted to make man a vessel for his lust, he would act with no restraint, even for those I would not see him bed."

"Of course! My lord!"

"Even now, I could strip your willpower or independence and have you take mother and daughter like an animal in their home. Do you know why I do not do this?"

"Why, my lord?"

"Better to reward you for a righteous act, my son. Better to mold you into what I would need of you. They would take your animal urges and thank you for them, but you know from experience, a sweeter thanks from a more loving hand."

He draws a deep breath, a shock of anticipation seeming to make his blood run hot. "What should I do, lord?"

"Go to them. Your presence alone inspires most of the process. The effect you have already had on your lover will do the rest."

He finishes his idle work and turns the sink off, an odd sort of uneasiness settling in his stomach. When the rush of water ceases, he hears both of the girls waiting for him giggle. It makes the uneasiness worse. When he steps out into the room with them, the sight of his lover's soft face eases him.

"Davie, we were just talking about you." The mother purrs with a flourish of her hand.

David sets his hands behind his back and leans against the wall and struggles to respond, "What about?"

The girls giggle again, the uneasiness gets worse.

In the eyes of the daughter, you can see the telltale silver shimmer, mostly imperceptible to humans, of the geneseed you planted in her this morning keeping a soft hold of her faculties. Nothing about it is controlling, overriding, nothing so complete. You do not steer the ship, but you can control how hot the engines burn. As you desire them, they currently burn intensely. Even with what you're certain David and the mother Grisham feel for each other, you're not sure you would trust them to act on it without a third party to **** the hand. As it is, you have that third party.

"The way my daughter tells it, you've turned into an absolute animal lately."

"O-oh?"

The daughter slides from her mother's side and back over to David, resting her chin on one of his shoulders and pulling one of his arms into a hug. As sweet and warm as it is, it's also noticeably very firm. The mother stands up next, stepping over as well. David starts to sweat before she's even past the table. Even though the day has started to show the oppressive heat it will likely carry throughout, it's more because his heart is pounding in his throat.

You catch something that confuses you for a moment, a slight silver shimmer in the mother's eyes as well. It's not enough to imply control, but it implies that at least some of the desire that the daughter is feeling is likely passed along to the mother. You recall the event this morning, where the mother Grisham tasted some stray seed. It shouldn't have been enough to convey any serious level of control, but depending on the person the tolerance level could fluctuate wildly. Regardless of how weak it is now, you suspect you're about to gain a lot of control...

Without much in the way of subterfuge, the mother Grisham strides over and grasps him with surprisingly oppressive firmness through his pants, grinding the rough denim against bare skin. He squirms, almost trying to get away, but the feeling of Annie's breasts pressing into his arm suddenly prove to hold him in place as he tries to pull away. The second thoughts are coming hard and fast, you almost consider pushing his willpower to the back, but you chose to let him learn a valuable lesson here. Once the seed is passed into a host, that host is going to pursue what they want aggressively. He had better get used to his new life, half conqueror and half breeding stud, because if this is how hard it is to escape with a harem of one and a half...

"I think I can tell what kind of animal she's talking about." The older woman whispers.

"I told you, mom, he's an absolute horse!" Annie giggles.

The mother Grisham's face flickers with conflict for a moment, the reminder of her relation to the girl at your side seeming to punch through her haze of lust for a moment with that firm part of your brain that joylessly screams "we shouldn't be doing this" at the most inopportune times. You turn up the heat a little, making the blood in both girls' systems run a little hotter, the need a little more intense. He's a sturdy boy, he can probably take it.

"I've seen a few horses in my day," The mother responds, her rational mind silenced again as she slides the suspenders of his overalls down his shoulders, "I'll be the judge of that."

As soon as she can, she yanks the now unsupported denim down his waist, freeing his hardening cock. She snarls hungrily, grasping it in her hands and starting to pump it with a vice-grip, like she's trying to milk an obstinate cow.

David whimpers, Annie leaning in to kiss his neck then looking down his body at the sight of her mother working his cock aggressively. The eyes of both girls will flash silver momentarily on and off, seemingly when they need the most to suppress the instincts telling them what they're doing is wrong. For Annie, it's only once in a very rare while. For Maggie, it starts off like a weak ever-flickering pilot light, but as she elicits David's cock to full length and hardness, dies to a low and occasional pulse. Once prodded far enough down the path to a long-awaited delight, she becomes willing to ignore every remaining qualm.

"Didn't I tell you he was a horse?" Annie coos softly.

"Oh, he's big alright," Maggie responds, voice husky and bordering on primal, "But I still want to see if he can paint my face like a fucking stud."

Her strokes continue, harsh and aggressive and slowly growing faster. Nobody would mistake her for some blushing virgin. It's a mixture of the expert motions of a woman who has learned how to lovelessly bring a partner to an obligate orgasm and get them to leave her alone and the self-enjoyed stroking of one who is making a show entirely for her own benefit. Now having her long-awaited prize, she has no intention of allowing her partner to give her any less of a show than the one she built up in her head. One that starts, seemingly, with her face coated in seed.

"Come on," She growls, "Save that stamina for later and fucking cum for me!"

You give David a little push along in the interest of getting to things that will be of more use to you. It doesn't take much, he was already circling the edge and was either too nervous or too strained to let himself relax and fall into it. When he does, knees wobbling as his body rocks with pleasure, the mother Grisham gets her wish as thick strands of cum start to spray out onto her face and hair. She makes a noise that's sub-speech, simply voicing her satisfaction as she catches some of it in her mouth and lets the rest spatter her face and the floor. Annie coos in his ear, soft in comparison to her mother's ****. You push the hormonal production into overdrive as he rides out his pleasure, getting his balls ready to fully replenish in a minimal amount of time.

As the last of the seed collected in Maggie's mouth trails down her throat, the dull silver in her eyes flashes to an almost overwhelming grey, one surely strong enough for humans to observe. Most will just write it off with some natural cause, but if there's ever any suspicion to be had against you, it's disconcertingly conspicuous.

You don't have any time to worry about that for now, Maggie squeezes the last few drops of cum from David's shaft and then slaps his rod against her face, groaning happily. He doesn't have time to go soft, before the sensitivity of his climax has fully passed, Maggie straightens up and looks up into his eyes with hunger that borders on anger.

"On the table, now."

She grabs him by the collar of his shirt and starts yanking him along, Annie following behind with soft touches on his back. The mother Grisham turns long enough to sweep any dishes on the table off with an arm, sending a basket and a brass water jug tumbling noisily to the ground, before dropping her back onto the table and pulling David's face down to hers. He hesitates for just a moment before his own hormones take over and he shoves his cock roughly inside the older woman.

She makes a noise like a deflating balloon as he rams her full of his length, in a moment she's likely been dreaming of for who knows how long. Without much resistance, his hips clap against hers and they work into an animal rut in only a few seconds. The room is filled with the wet slapping of bodies, the mixed primal grunts of the pair on the table, and the soft reassurances of the daughter hovering around the affair, her own womb already full of the seed that her mother's body now begs for. Her body is not as tight as her daughter's, a testament to her parenthood and experience, but that same experience shows in a number of subtle things he's never gotten from a partner. The way that her hips roll to meet him, the way that her matronly body gives him ample flesh to squeeze and knead, the way that her legs lock around behind his waist, all leading to a sense that even as he pounds her like a female in heat, she remains in charge underneath him. She's a deep pool that he wades into, slowly engulfing himself in roiling hot water, melting him into her. He drops his head, biting down on her neck to keep his voice contained, she responds by gripping his back painfully, nails and digging fingertips between his shoulder blades.

This time, even as it would be easier to push him along sooner, you do the opposite. You hold him back softly, not about to block the unstoppable but slowing the process. The reward is well worth the sweat of his brow and the aching tiredness of hips that won't stop thrusting. Maggie shudders under him, wheezing a blissful moan in his ear as her body shivers and tightens around him. Her toes curl behind his hips, her body dripping and spraying until the tablecloth under them is soaked beyond hiding. Still, he does not cease his pounding, even as she comes down, then quivers under him a second time. Annie leans over the pair, hand on the back of David's neck and voice goading in his ear.

When he finally rolls past the point of no return again, it's with a shudder as he half-collapses into his partner's arms and body. His willpower and endurance melted by hot plump flesh, body squeezing and spraying helplessly as his hips roll with waves of pleasure. It's a kind of blissful like none of his other climaxes ever before have been, surrounded by warm flesh all about with both mother and daughter whispering their love in either ear. He feels as though melted into a hot pool, rising slowly out of the depths and onto the surface, panting mutually with the woman beneath him.

When he feels Maggie's legs drop, he slides out with a grimace and staggers back from the pair of girls. While they're still in the midst of sharing the moment, silver flicker now mostly suppressed by the taboo being crossed and being unable to be ignored, he steals away to the kitchen. His legs shaking, he darts to the sink and gulps greedy mouthfuls of water, sweat pouring from his... everywhere.

"Lord, give me strength." He gasps between swallows.

You can't help but laugh, "My son, this is but the first trial of many."

He shudders, "I'm not sure I'm man enough."

"You had best learn to be, in time, a mere two women at once will be a welcome relief."

He gulps again, then shuts the water off and lays hunched over the sink for a moment, gasping for breath.

A moment later, a hand grasps him from behind by the collar of his shirt and pulls him back into the dining room.