Eucatastrophist
Registered User
- Joined
- Oct 6, 2025
- Messages
- 6
- Points
- 3
A Timberbrook Tale
Incest * tickling * forced orgasm * dubious consent * humiliation
In which a woman is tickled and brought to orgasm during an important work meeting by her own son and his friend, after which she is ticklefucked further.
Every thousand years or so, usually in the Spring or Autumn, the Feywild converges with our world. The result is an aphrodisiac mist, invisible to the eye, yet palpable to the other senses - but just faintly. It drives everyone wild with lust for about a month, then the mist subsides. And the secondary consequences of this are felt for generations after.
When fey-essence bleeds into the mortal world, you see, it awakens what humans have been suppressing. It's not a spell, exactly. It's just what happens when you flood a desert with water.
The sleepy town of Timberbrook was chosen specifically: a bland, repressed suburban neighborhood where people had forgotten how to feel deeply, how to want without shame.
The lust is a weapon and a message. It strips away human pretense, reveals the animal underneath the mortgage payments and PTA meetings. If mortals can't even handle their own desires when amplified, how will they resist when the Wild Hunt rides through? When the real magic comes?
Nature abhors an imbalance. The convergence is the correction. The lust washing over Timberbrook is just the overflow, like water finding its level between two connected pools. Soon it won't just be desire bleeding through.
This is a story about the convergence that happened last Fall.
One morning, the cats began gathering. Not fighting, not howling. Just amassing in groups of two dozen or more, purring in heaps on doorsteps and lawns, their eyes reflecting something that wasn't just the streetlights.
By the afternoon, the normally quiet and cheerful suburb was filled with increasingly frantic whispers between the neighbors - asking if anyone else felt strange, if the air tasted like honey and copper, if anyone else was having those same intrusive thoughts...
In one particular house on Maple Grove Court, Rachel Clarke didn't have time for what she chalked up to stronger-than-usual hormonal imbalances. She had an extremely important business meeting to conduct today, one that would make or break her career.
She wasn't normally superstitious, but this meeting was too important. She'd gone all out - eyeshadow, lipstick, manicure, pedicure, she'd even gotten her entire goddamn body waxed. She'd splurged on a new outfit that complimented her figure yet remained professional and sleek.
The only thing she hadn't accounted for was her eighteen-year-old son's having the day off from his college classes...
---
Rachel’s eyes flicked toward the door as her son and his friend barged in, laughing loudly.
Still on the video call, Rachel maintained her composure, her eyes only briefly flickering to acknowledge her son and his friend as they entered the room. She quickly typed a message on her keyboard, hoping to catch her son's attention:
Hi sweetheart, I'm on a very important call. Please be quiet and I'll be with you as soon as I can.
She subtly gestured to the screen, hoping he'd see the message. Out loud, she continued her meeting.
"...and that's why our third-quarter projections show a significant increase in market share. I believe, moving forward, we should focus on..."
"Whoah," Mark whispered at the sight of the sharply dressed working woman. "Jason, you never told us your mom was hot..."
Rachel paused just long enough to shoot her son and his friend a sharp, motherly glare that said, "Get. Out. Now."
Despite her professional getup, she was only wearing sandals - it was all she could find in the room, and she'd been pressed for time before the meeting had started. And unfortunately, Mark noticed.
"Hey Jason, do you think your mom's feet are ticklish?" he whispered. Startled, Rachel nevertheless pretended she didn't hear that, trying to continue with her meeting. But her voice wavered for a split second as she heard his whispered intention. When they still didn't leave, she turned to look at them, rage building in her eyes.
"Out. Now," she whispered venomously. "Or no Wi-Fi for a month."
Mark cheerfully ignored her, removing the sandals from her feet as she continued her presentation.
She tried to subtly shift her feet under the table, attempting to hide them from view. Her cheeks maintained their professional composure, but a slight tightness in her eyes betrayed her inner tension.
"...and as you can see, the ROI on this initiative is unparalleled-" She suddenly stiffened as one of the boys brushed a single finger over her bare sole, but she quickly cleared her throat and continued, "ahem—unparalleled in our sector. Truly groundbreaking."
Under the desk, she stomped her naked foot lightly in warning, her voice a razor-sharp whisper.
"I swear to God," Rachel hissed, "if you don’t stop, you’re all walking to school for the rest of the year!"
She casually crossed her legs, and plastered onto her face the most convincing boardroom smile she could muster.
"Now, let's dive into those metrics, shall we?" she said as her grip on the desk tightened.
She struggled to keep her voice steady as she felt their fingers on her bare feet again, and hands wrapping securely around her ankles.
"Look, she even painted her toenails for us," Mark chuckled.
"...and by leveraging influencer partnerships, we can expect to see a significant boost in our brand awareness. If you'll turn to the next slide, you'll see the projected metrics for..."
She subtly tried to pull her feet away, but the boys had a firm grasp. Her toes curled slightly, and she hoped the camera didn't pick up the slight flush spreading across her cheeks. Desperately, she typed another message on her second monitor and angled it towards the boys.
Guys, please stop. This is a very important meeting.
She valiantly tried to keep her focus on the meeting, as they gently ran their fingers under the sensitive soles of her feet, but her voice started to show subtle signs of strain.
"...the metrics indicate a...a strong potential for growth...if we...if we implement these strategies effectively..."
Her manicured toes flexed and curled involuntarily, and she fought the urge to squirm in her seat as she felt fingers lightly tapping against the pads of her toes. Her eyes darted briefly to the camera, hoping her colleagues won't notice her growing discomfort.
She tried to signal discreetly to her son and his friend, giving them a look that is part pleading and part stern, but her expression quickly returned to professional neutrality as she continues to speak.
"...and by aligning our marketing efforts with current trends, we can...we can capitalize on the...the opportunities presented in the market..." Her voice wavered just enough to be noticeable, and she silently prayed for the tickling to stop.
One of the members of her meeting stood up briefly - and a flash of inspiration, of potential salvation, struck her. She had a convertible standing desk! She quickly smacked the button, and the desk began to electronically rise. She stood up triumphantly, her feet firmly planted on the floor. She couldn't resist flashing the horny teenagers below her desk a triumphant smirk.
Her victory was shortlived, however, as she soon felt the fingers traveling upwards - skittering up her bare calves, stroking the smooth skin behind her knees. Her entire body tensed, but she refused to let it show on camera. She gripped the edge of her now-standing desk, knuckles whitening, while her other hand gestured smoothly to the presentation slides - completely at odds with the war being waged below.
Her glance flitted downward with a deadly glare, but the boys were too busy admiring her toned, smoothly shaven legs to notice. She would have to kill them later - right now, she needed to get through this meeting, as every client's eye was on her.
"As - hnng - as the data clearly shows, our projections - mmph!~ remain unshaken despite external... variables..."
Rachel's face reddened in mortification as the giggles escaped her lips, interrupting her speech. She quickly tried to cover it up with a forced cough, her cheeks flushing crimson as her legs continue to be fondled. She suddenly slammed down on a key on her laptop with exaggerated enthusiasm as she felt a playful pinch on her thigh.
"And HERE'S A PIE CHART!" she said a little too loudly. "...excuse me, I...I apologize for that."
Then, things took a turn they could never return from. Rachel's entire body stiffened as she felt hands slide up her skirt, fondling the crease where her butt met the back of her leg.
She shifted uncomfortably where she stood, trying to subtly move her legs away from the boys' teasing fingers. Her breath was slightly uneven as she attempted to maintain her composure.
"As...as I was saying, the opportunities in the market are...are ripe for the taking, and our...our team is well-positioned to...to capitalize on them."
She managed to keep speaking, but her voice was tighter, and her eyes were pleading as she glanced at her son and his friend, silently begging them to stop. Her legs trembled slightly beneath the table, and she hoped her colleagues on the call didn't notice her growing distraction.
She gripped the standing desk with both hands, her nails practically digging into the wood as she fought to keep her composure. Her breath caught in her chest, but she forced her voice to remain steady - smooth, even - as she continued addressing the clients.
She tried to clamp her thighs together to stop the assault, but the boys were relentless. Her eyes widened in shock and panic as she felt her panties being slid down. Her voice faltered mid-sentence, and she abruptly muted her microphone to prevent any further sound from escaping.
Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and her eyes darted around the room in disbelief and mortification. She mouthed "stop!" urgently to the boys, her expression a mix of anger and pleading.
She tried to discreetly reach down and pull her panties back up, but the boys' hands were in the way, making it difficult. They shared a look of excitement once they realized - first with their exploratory fingers, then their eyes - that she was completely smooth and bare between her legs. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to maintain her composure on camera. She quickly typed another message, her hands shaking slightly:
This is COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE. Stop IMMEDIATELY!!
She unmuted her microphone, trying to keep her voice steady as she attempted to continue the meeting. Her mind was racing, though, and her body was tense.
"I...I apologize for the interruption. We were discussing the...the market opportunities and...and our strategic approach."
Rachel's entire body locked up in utter shock and disbelief as she suddenly felt two hot, wet tongues press against her most intimate areas - one on her pussy, soaked with what she would tell herself was only sweat, and one on her pert, puckered anus. She quickly muted the microphone again as a choked gasp escaped her lips. She clamped down hard on her facade of professionalism, forcing her expression back into something resembling calm - though her face was now burning crimson, even her ears and neck were flushed.
She tried to squirm away from the boys' tongues, but her movements were limited by her position and the need to maintain some semblance of composure on the video call. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape or a solution, but finding none. She unmuted her microphone, her voice strained and breathless as she endeavored to continue the meeting.
"I...I'm sorry, could you...could you please repeat that, John? I...I missed the last part."
"Ah - yes, the - nngh! - the fiscal year-end projections are - oh god - are very promising, as you can - ah! - see..."
Her toes curled tightly, and her legs trembled as she tried to focus on the meeting, but the sensations between her legs were overwhelming. Her son and his friend were relentless, their tongues working in ways that made her vision blur. She bit her lower lip to suppress any sounds threatening to escape, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
She typed a final, desperate message, her hands shaking:
STOP THIS INSTANTLY!!! THIS IS EXTREMELY INAPPROPRIATE!!!
Rachel's heart pounded wildly in her chest as she felt the tongues continue exploring her most sensitive areas. The sensation was overwhelming - a bizarre cocktail of shock, pleasure, and utter panic.
Her own son's tongue on her pussy was soft and insistent, licking and probing her folds, sending jolts of electricity through her body. It flicked against her clit, drawing out involuntary sparks of pleasure that radiated outwards to her toes, to her tits, to her teeth. The other tongue, circling that dirty and forbidden area, created a sensation that was foreign and intensely intimate, making her stomach flip with a mix of embarrassment and unwanted arousal.
Her panic was all-consuming. Her breath came in short, erratic gasps, and her face felt like it was on fire. Her mind raced with a torrent of thoughts - the importance of the meeting, the mortification of being caught, the sheer inappropriateness of the situation. She felt a cold sweat break out across her skin, and her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that it nearly drowned out the voices of her colleagues on the call. Her voice wavered noticeably as she attempted to respond to a colleague's question:
"Th-the...the projections, right. We...we anticipate a...a significant increase in...in market penetration..."
Her words stuttered, and she cursed herself internally for the unintended innuendo. She tried to focus, to regain some semblance of control, but her body was a whirlwind of conflicting sensations. The physical pleasure was undeniable, but it was overshadowed by the crippling anxiety and the desperate need to make it stop. She tried to squeeze her legs together, to shift away, but the boys' firm grips on her hips and ass, and hungrily insistent tongues, made it nearly impossible.
Her voice, when she managed to speak, was breathless and strained, barely holding onto professionalism. She felt like she was walking a tightrope, one misstep away from plunging into complete chaos. Every second felt like an eternity, and she was acutely aware of the camera watching her every reaction, the stakes of the meeting hanging in the balance.
Her only relief was in knowing that the camera was only capturing her from the neck-up, but even that was short-lived as she began to feel the boy's hands venturing upward. Her cheeks clenched around her eyes in a mix of disbelief and renewed panic as Mark's tickling fingers traveled under her shirt and up her back, tracing lines of sensation that made her squirm uncomfortably.
Meanwhile, Jason's pinching fingers on her ribs sent sharp, ticklish jolts through her body, causing her to jerk slightly where she stood. She bit her lower lip hard to suppress any giggles or gasps that threatened to escape, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. She did what she could to arch away from their fingers, but the tongues between her legs and the hands on her body made it impossible to escape.
Her gaze flitted desperately between the camera and the boys, silently begging them to stop, but their eyes were filled with a wild mischief and determination.
Her body was heating up like a live wire, every nerve ending sparking with sensation. She felt like a volcano on the verge of eruption, the pressure building inside her threatening to explode at any moment. The professional facade she'd worked so hard to maintain was crumbling fast, and she was running out of ways to hide it.
Her arms pressed tightly to her sides in a futile attempt to shield her ribs and armpits, but the boys were relentless - their fingers wiggled into every vulnerable spot with cruel abandon.
"Y-yes, a fantastic question, Michael! As you can -hah! - as you can see from the - nnf! - the data on slide 37 -"
A particularly vicious tickle attack hit her shuddering ribcage, and she let out a high-pitched, involuntary squeak before disguising it as a cough.
"Ahem! Excuse me - yes, the - oh no no no - the metrics clearly - HA! - support this initiative!"
Her eyes were watering now, and her shaved armpits were sweating profusely. Somehow, she kept answering questions, her voice jumping an octave every time a finger found a new weak spot. The clients were starting to look concerned.
Rachel's worry escalated further as Mark unclasped her bra, and Jason slid his wriggling fingers underneath. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest instinctively, worried the commotion might be caught on camera.
Her voice was increasingly unsteady as she struggled to participate in the meeting:
"I...I think...we should...should consider... -nnf!- allocating more...more resources to...(snort) to digital channels..."
Her words faltered as Jason's hands found her nipples, lightly pinching and playing with them. Her pert buds stiffened instantly under the teasing pinches, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her body.
She was quickly descending into a maelstrom of sensations - the relentless tongues between her legs, the tickling fingers on her back and ribs, and now the teasing hands on her nipples. Her control was slipping away, the pleasure building inside her threatening to overwhelm her completely.
Her face was a mask of barely contained panic and arousal. Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes glazed and struggling to focus. She bit her lip hard, using the pain to try and center herself, to keep from crying out.
She attempted to shift where she stood, to move away from the overwhelming sensations, but the boys held her firm. Her legs trembled violently, and she felt beads of sweat trickling down her spine.
"Y-yes, regarding the Q3 projections - ah! - we're seeing - oh god - seeing exceptional growth in - unngh! - in emerging markets..."
Her thighs quivered as the dual assault continued - one tongue swirling tight circles around her clit while the other teased at her back entrance. Her free hand flew up to adjust her collar, in a desperate attempt to appear composed. But the orgasm began to build like a storm, tightening her abdomen, making her toes curl.
Her mind raced with desperate excuses, anything to justify suddenly leaving the meeting. She knew she couldn't hold out much longer, her body teetering on the edge of release.
"You little fuckers," Rachel whisper-growled through clenched teeth, "I'll - hah! - KILL you -"
But her threat dissolved into a shuddering gasp as the stimulation became unbearable. Her hips gave an involuntary twitch forward, seeking more friction, even as her mind screamed in humiliation. The boys somehow knew exactly what they were doing - pushing her toward the edge with ruthless precision.
"S-so - oh fuck - so in conclusion - please - the numbers speak for - themselves - !"*
Her knuckles were bone-white on the desk, gripping it for the dear life of her rapidly fading career prospects.
"St-stop or I'll - I'll - "
But her frantic attempts at negotiation died in her throat as the orgasm finally crashed over her. Her back arched slightly, her entire body locking up as she fought to stay silent - but a tiny, choked whimper escaped anyway.
Then a finger slid into her, and all hell broke loose.
She let out a sharp, involuntary grunt, her eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure overwhelmed her. Her arms, crossed over her chest, gripped her shoulders tightly as her body convulsed where she stood.
The boys' tongues continued to lick her furiously, drawing out every last wave of her climax as their hands gripping her waist (and the finger wiggling inside of her) held her firmly in place. Her legs shook violently, her toes curling and uncurling as the sensation became almost too much to bear.
She was distantly aware of the sounds she was making - grunts, groans, and stuttered gasps - all broadcasting loud and clear over the meeting. Her face contorted with a mix of ecstasy and mortification, the dual sensations battling for dominance.
Her colleagues' voices registered as distant, confused murmurs. She heard her name being called, questions asked, but she was powerless to respond, swept away in the storm of her orgasm.
"Rachel? Are you alright?"
"What's happening? Should we call someone?"
"Let's remain calm, she's probably just trying to communicate her xenopronouns to us-"
Their words barely penetrated the haze of pleasure and panic swirling in her mind. Her body jerked and spasmed, each wave of her climax sending another burst of sound from her lips.
She desperately fought to regain control, to stop the sounds, to still her shaking body, but it was like trying to stop a freight train. The orgasm ran its course through her overstimulated body, leaving her breathless and disoriented in its wake.
As the intense pleasure finally began to subside, the full weight of what just happened came crashing down on her. She opened her eyes, her vision swimming and unfocused, and saw the faces of her colleagues on the screen, their expressions ranging from shocked to concerned to bewildered.
She managed to uncross her arms, her hands shaking badly as she reached for the keyboard. With a final, humiliating whimper, she found the button to end the call, and the screen mercifully went black.
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her body still trembling with the aftershocks. Her knees finally buckled and she slumped to the floor, her eyes wide with shock and humiliation, her face a picture of disbelief and mortification. The room was silent except for the sound of her own breathing and the distant, muffled laughter of the boys.
Once the orgasm subsided, Rachel's simmering emotions exploded like a volcano. She jumped to her feet, the chair toppling over behind her as her face flushed a deep crimson.
"What the HELL were you thinking?!" she screamed at the two eighteen-year-olds at her feet. "How DARE you?! That was the most important meeting of my career, and you...you...oh my GOD, I can't even...I am SO FUCKING PISSED with you right now!"
Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and her body still shook from the chaotic blend of adrenaline and residual pleasure. The boys watched her outburst with amusement, then exchanged glances. They nodded, then moved as one, lunging forward and grabbing her wrists.
Rachel yelped in surprise as they pulled her down onto the floor, her anger momentarily replaced by shock. She landed with a thud, her breath whooshing out of her lungs. She tried to struggle, to fight them off, but their grips were firm and unyielding.
"Let GO of me! This isn't funny anymore! I am SERIOUSLY angry with you both!" she yelled as she squirmed on the floor.
But the boys were undeterred, their eyes shining with mischief and excitement. They began to tickle her again, their fingers finding all her most sensitive spots - her ribs, her stomach, her armpits, the backs of her knees.
Rachel's body, still flush with post-orgasm sensitivity, responded instantly. She threw her head back, a burst of involuntary laughter escaping her lips, even as she continued to scream and protest.
"Stop it! STOP! Oh my god...hahahaha...(snort)...HAHA!...I CAN'T BREATHE...STOP TICKLING ME!"
Her voice was a wild mix of laughter and anger, her body writhing and jerking as she tried to escape their tickling fingers. She kicked and flailed, her skirt riding up her thighs, while her shirt came untucked and exposed her stomach.
"GET OFF ME! HAHAHAHAHA...PLEASE...OH MY GOD...I'M STILL SO ANGRY WITH YO--HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The boys kept up their ticklish assault of this sensitive mother, their fingers dancing over her body, their laughter mingling with hers. They grabbed the hem of her shirt and, with a sudden, sharp tug, ripped it open, sending buttons flying in all directions.
Rachel gasped in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief and outrage. But before she could protest, their fingers were back on her, tickling her bare stomach, her exposed ribs, her sensitive underarms. She screamed with laughter, her body convulsing, tears streaming down her face.
Her bra, still unclasped from earlier, slipped off easily, leaving her completely topless. The boys showed no mercy, their tickling fingers exploring every inch of her exposed skin. They tickled her breasts, their fingers tracing delicate, torturous patterns around her nipples, making her scream and writhe in a vortex of arousal, anger, and desperation.
Rachel's hand brushed the length of her son's exposed cock, and her eyes widened as she realized their intent. She tried to push them away, to wriggle free, but their grips were too tight and their muscular bodies were too heavy.
"What are you doing!? NO!!!" she yelled, despite the stiffening of her nipples and the thrill fluttering in her core. "Don't you DARE... Oh my GOD!!!"
Jason positioned himself between her legs, his throbbing cock pressing against her entrance. She tried to clamp her thighs shut, to deny him access, but he was too strong, too determined.
Even as she protested, her hips began to arch, and her breath came in quick, anticipatory gasps. Her furious threats dissolved into a wanton moan as they shoved into her at the same time - her own son stretching her soaked pussy, while that irritating and aggressive friend of his pushed deep into her tight asshole. Her nails clawed at the carpet as the dual penetration overwhelmed her senses.
"Oooohhhhh god, Mommy... you feel so good..." Jason groaned as he enjoyed his mother's tight, wet heat. His lips found her aching nipples and began to suckle on them.
"F-fuck! Too much - you - oh god -" she sputtered, shaking her head wildly. The boys didn’t care. They were too far gone, too lost in the heat of her body, the way she clenched around them despite her protests. They rutted into her with rough, desperate thrusts, their hands gripping her hips hard.
Her body shook with the force of her emotions. She tries to hold onto her fury, to maintain her outrage, but the sensations were overwhelming, her body on fire with need and desire. This was so wrong, her own son, but the moment was so primal, the pleasure so overwhelming...
The boys moved in sync, their cocks thrusting in and out of Mommy in a relentless, urgent rhythm. Her body responded to theirs, her hips meeting their thrusts, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
Mark grabbed ahold of her wrists and pulled her arms up and back, restraining her and leaving her breasts and armpits exposed and vulnerable, jiggling invitingly to Jason.
Even as her body hurtled towards orgasm, Jason's fingers resumed their tickling torture, tracing delicate, maddening patterns on her sweaty breasts and armpits. He subjected her to a series of light and teasing pokes and prods, a stark contrast to the intense, powerful thrusts of his cock. He tickled her nipples, his fingertips dancing around the sensitive peaks, making her squirm and gasp.
"S-stohohop-" she begged feebly, her breasts heaving as another orgasm drew closer, "I mean it - oh fuck, hnnngh - I'll - HAHA!- I'll-"
Her laughter was breathless and desperate, her body shaking with the effort of holding back her impending climax.
Rachel’s second orgasm hit her like a freight train. Her entire body seized, and her scream of rage melted into a shuddering cry of pleasure. Her inner muscles milked the cocks inside her, drawing out their own climaxes. She felt them pulsing, the hot rush of their releases, and the boys groaned appreciatively as they filled her up. Their hot cum spilled inside as Rachel trembled beneath them in ecstasy.
As the waves of her orgasm finally began to subside, Rachel Clarke was left a shaking, breathless mess. Her body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She sagged back against Mark, her breath coming in ragged, hitching gasps, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.
She remained on the floor in a daze of confused wonder, trying - and failing - to pretend she didn’t love every second of it.
Incest * tickling * forced orgasm * dubious consent * humiliation
In which a woman is tickled and brought to orgasm during an important work meeting by her own son and his friend, after which she is ticklefucked further.
Every thousand years or so, usually in the Spring or Autumn, the Feywild converges with our world. The result is an aphrodisiac mist, invisible to the eye, yet palpable to the other senses - but just faintly. It drives everyone wild with lust for about a month, then the mist subsides. And the secondary consequences of this are felt for generations after.
When fey-essence bleeds into the mortal world, you see, it awakens what humans have been suppressing. It's not a spell, exactly. It's just what happens when you flood a desert with water.
The sleepy town of Timberbrook was chosen specifically: a bland, repressed suburban neighborhood where people had forgotten how to feel deeply, how to want without shame.
The lust is a weapon and a message. It strips away human pretense, reveals the animal underneath the mortgage payments and PTA meetings. If mortals can't even handle their own desires when amplified, how will they resist when the Wild Hunt rides through? When the real magic comes?
Nature abhors an imbalance. The convergence is the correction. The lust washing over Timberbrook is just the overflow, like water finding its level between two connected pools. Soon it won't just be desire bleeding through.
This is a story about the convergence that happened last Fall.
One morning, the cats began gathering. Not fighting, not howling. Just amassing in groups of two dozen or more, purring in heaps on doorsteps and lawns, their eyes reflecting something that wasn't just the streetlights.
By the afternoon, the normally quiet and cheerful suburb was filled with increasingly frantic whispers between the neighbors - asking if anyone else felt strange, if the air tasted like honey and copper, if anyone else was having those same intrusive thoughts...
In one particular house on Maple Grove Court, Rachel Clarke didn't have time for what she chalked up to stronger-than-usual hormonal imbalances. She had an extremely important business meeting to conduct today, one that would make or break her career.
She wasn't normally superstitious, but this meeting was too important. She'd gone all out - eyeshadow, lipstick, manicure, pedicure, she'd even gotten her entire goddamn body waxed. She'd splurged on a new outfit that complimented her figure yet remained professional and sleek.
The only thing she hadn't accounted for was her eighteen-year-old son's having the day off from his college classes...
---
Rachel’s eyes flicked toward the door as her son and his friend barged in, laughing loudly.
Still on the video call, Rachel maintained her composure, her eyes only briefly flickering to acknowledge her son and his friend as they entered the room. She quickly typed a message on her keyboard, hoping to catch her son's attention:
Hi sweetheart, I'm on a very important call. Please be quiet and I'll be with you as soon as I can.
She subtly gestured to the screen, hoping he'd see the message. Out loud, she continued her meeting.
"...and that's why our third-quarter projections show a significant increase in market share. I believe, moving forward, we should focus on..."
"Whoah," Mark whispered at the sight of the sharply dressed working woman. "Jason, you never told us your mom was hot..."
Rachel paused just long enough to shoot her son and his friend a sharp, motherly glare that said, "Get. Out. Now."
Despite her professional getup, she was only wearing sandals - it was all she could find in the room, and she'd been pressed for time before the meeting had started. And unfortunately, Mark noticed.
"Hey Jason, do you think your mom's feet are ticklish?" he whispered. Startled, Rachel nevertheless pretended she didn't hear that, trying to continue with her meeting. But her voice wavered for a split second as she heard his whispered intention. When they still didn't leave, she turned to look at them, rage building in her eyes.
"Out. Now," she whispered venomously. "Or no Wi-Fi for a month."
Mark cheerfully ignored her, removing the sandals from her feet as she continued her presentation.
She tried to subtly shift her feet under the table, attempting to hide them from view. Her cheeks maintained their professional composure, but a slight tightness in her eyes betrayed her inner tension.
"...and as you can see, the ROI on this initiative is unparalleled-" She suddenly stiffened as one of the boys brushed a single finger over her bare sole, but she quickly cleared her throat and continued, "ahem—unparalleled in our sector. Truly groundbreaking."
Under the desk, she stomped her naked foot lightly in warning, her voice a razor-sharp whisper.
"I swear to God," Rachel hissed, "if you don’t stop, you’re all walking to school for the rest of the year!"
She casually crossed her legs, and plastered onto her face the most convincing boardroom smile she could muster.
"Now, let's dive into those metrics, shall we?" she said as her grip on the desk tightened.
She struggled to keep her voice steady as she felt their fingers on her bare feet again, and hands wrapping securely around her ankles.
"Look, she even painted her toenails for us," Mark chuckled.
"...and by leveraging influencer partnerships, we can expect to see a significant boost in our brand awareness. If you'll turn to the next slide, you'll see the projected metrics for..."
She subtly tried to pull her feet away, but the boys had a firm grasp. Her toes curled slightly, and she hoped the camera didn't pick up the slight flush spreading across her cheeks. Desperately, she typed another message on her second monitor and angled it towards the boys.
Guys, please stop. This is a very important meeting.
She valiantly tried to keep her focus on the meeting, as they gently ran their fingers under the sensitive soles of her feet, but her voice started to show subtle signs of strain.
"...the metrics indicate a...a strong potential for growth...if we...if we implement these strategies effectively..."
Her manicured toes flexed and curled involuntarily, and she fought the urge to squirm in her seat as she felt fingers lightly tapping against the pads of her toes. Her eyes darted briefly to the camera, hoping her colleagues won't notice her growing discomfort.
She tried to signal discreetly to her son and his friend, giving them a look that is part pleading and part stern, but her expression quickly returned to professional neutrality as she continues to speak.
"...and by aligning our marketing efforts with current trends, we can...we can capitalize on the...the opportunities presented in the market..." Her voice wavered just enough to be noticeable, and she silently prayed for the tickling to stop.
One of the members of her meeting stood up briefly - and a flash of inspiration, of potential salvation, struck her. She had a convertible standing desk! She quickly smacked the button, and the desk began to electronically rise. She stood up triumphantly, her feet firmly planted on the floor. She couldn't resist flashing the horny teenagers below her desk a triumphant smirk.
Her victory was shortlived, however, as she soon felt the fingers traveling upwards - skittering up her bare calves, stroking the smooth skin behind her knees. Her entire body tensed, but she refused to let it show on camera. She gripped the edge of her now-standing desk, knuckles whitening, while her other hand gestured smoothly to the presentation slides - completely at odds with the war being waged below.
Her glance flitted downward with a deadly glare, but the boys were too busy admiring her toned, smoothly shaven legs to notice. She would have to kill them later - right now, she needed to get through this meeting, as every client's eye was on her.
"As - hnng - as the data clearly shows, our projections - mmph!~ remain unshaken despite external... variables..."
Rachel's face reddened in mortification as the giggles escaped her lips, interrupting her speech. She quickly tried to cover it up with a forced cough, her cheeks flushing crimson as her legs continue to be fondled. She suddenly slammed down on a key on her laptop with exaggerated enthusiasm as she felt a playful pinch on her thigh.
"And HERE'S A PIE CHART!" she said a little too loudly. "...excuse me, I...I apologize for that."
Then, things took a turn they could never return from. Rachel's entire body stiffened as she felt hands slide up her skirt, fondling the crease where her butt met the back of her leg.
She shifted uncomfortably where she stood, trying to subtly move her legs away from the boys' teasing fingers. Her breath was slightly uneven as she attempted to maintain her composure.
"As...as I was saying, the opportunities in the market are...are ripe for the taking, and our...our team is well-positioned to...to capitalize on them."
She managed to keep speaking, but her voice was tighter, and her eyes were pleading as she glanced at her son and his friend, silently begging them to stop. Her legs trembled slightly beneath the table, and she hoped her colleagues on the call didn't notice her growing distraction.
She gripped the standing desk with both hands, her nails practically digging into the wood as she fought to keep her composure. Her breath caught in her chest, but she forced her voice to remain steady - smooth, even - as she continued addressing the clients.
She tried to clamp her thighs together to stop the assault, but the boys were relentless. Her eyes widened in shock and panic as she felt her panties being slid down. Her voice faltered mid-sentence, and she abruptly muted her microphone to prevent any further sound from escaping.
Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and her eyes darted around the room in disbelief and mortification. She mouthed "stop!" urgently to the boys, her expression a mix of anger and pleading.
She tried to discreetly reach down and pull her panties back up, but the boys' hands were in the way, making it difficult. They shared a look of excitement once they realized - first with their exploratory fingers, then their eyes - that she was completely smooth and bare between her legs. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to maintain her composure on camera. She quickly typed another message, her hands shaking slightly:
This is COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE. Stop IMMEDIATELY!!
She unmuted her microphone, trying to keep her voice steady as she attempted to continue the meeting. Her mind was racing, though, and her body was tense.
"I...I apologize for the interruption. We were discussing the...the market opportunities and...and our strategic approach."
Rachel's entire body locked up in utter shock and disbelief as she suddenly felt two hot, wet tongues press against her most intimate areas - one on her pussy, soaked with what she would tell herself was only sweat, and one on her pert, puckered anus. She quickly muted the microphone again as a choked gasp escaped her lips. She clamped down hard on her facade of professionalism, forcing her expression back into something resembling calm - though her face was now burning crimson, even her ears and neck were flushed.
She tried to squirm away from the boys' tongues, but her movements were limited by her position and the need to maintain some semblance of composure on the video call. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape or a solution, but finding none. She unmuted her microphone, her voice strained and breathless as she endeavored to continue the meeting.
"I...I'm sorry, could you...could you please repeat that, John? I...I missed the last part."
"Ah - yes, the - nngh! - the fiscal year-end projections are - oh god - are very promising, as you can - ah! - see..."
Her toes curled tightly, and her legs trembled as she tried to focus on the meeting, but the sensations between her legs were overwhelming. Her son and his friend were relentless, their tongues working in ways that made her vision blur. She bit her lower lip to suppress any sounds threatening to escape, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
She typed a final, desperate message, her hands shaking:
STOP THIS INSTANTLY!!! THIS IS EXTREMELY INAPPROPRIATE!!!
Rachel's heart pounded wildly in her chest as she felt the tongues continue exploring her most sensitive areas. The sensation was overwhelming - a bizarre cocktail of shock, pleasure, and utter panic.
Her own son's tongue on her pussy was soft and insistent, licking and probing her folds, sending jolts of electricity through her body. It flicked against her clit, drawing out involuntary sparks of pleasure that radiated outwards to her toes, to her tits, to her teeth. The other tongue, circling that dirty and forbidden area, created a sensation that was foreign and intensely intimate, making her stomach flip with a mix of embarrassment and unwanted arousal.
Her panic was all-consuming. Her breath came in short, erratic gasps, and her face felt like it was on fire. Her mind raced with a torrent of thoughts - the importance of the meeting, the mortification of being caught, the sheer inappropriateness of the situation. She felt a cold sweat break out across her skin, and her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that it nearly drowned out the voices of her colleagues on the call. Her voice wavered noticeably as she attempted to respond to a colleague's question:
"Th-the...the projections, right. We...we anticipate a...a significant increase in...in market penetration..."
Her words stuttered, and she cursed herself internally for the unintended innuendo. She tried to focus, to regain some semblance of control, but her body was a whirlwind of conflicting sensations. The physical pleasure was undeniable, but it was overshadowed by the crippling anxiety and the desperate need to make it stop. She tried to squeeze her legs together, to shift away, but the boys' firm grips on her hips and ass, and hungrily insistent tongues, made it nearly impossible.
Her voice, when she managed to speak, was breathless and strained, barely holding onto professionalism. She felt like she was walking a tightrope, one misstep away from plunging into complete chaos. Every second felt like an eternity, and she was acutely aware of the camera watching her every reaction, the stakes of the meeting hanging in the balance.
Her only relief was in knowing that the camera was only capturing her from the neck-up, but even that was short-lived as she began to feel the boy's hands venturing upward. Her cheeks clenched around her eyes in a mix of disbelief and renewed panic as Mark's tickling fingers traveled under her shirt and up her back, tracing lines of sensation that made her squirm uncomfortably.
Meanwhile, Jason's pinching fingers on her ribs sent sharp, ticklish jolts through her body, causing her to jerk slightly where she stood. She bit her lower lip hard to suppress any giggles or gasps that threatened to escape, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. She did what she could to arch away from their fingers, but the tongues between her legs and the hands on her body made it impossible to escape.
Her gaze flitted desperately between the camera and the boys, silently begging them to stop, but their eyes were filled with a wild mischief and determination.
Her body was heating up like a live wire, every nerve ending sparking with sensation. She felt like a volcano on the verge of eruption, the pressure building inside her threatening to explode at any moment. The professional facade she'd worked so hard to maintain was crumbling fast, and she was running out of ways to hide it.
Her arms pressed tightly to her sides in a futile attempt to shield her ribs and armpits, but the boys were relentless - their fingers wiggled into every vulnerable spot with cruel abandon.
"Y-yes, a fantastic question, Michael! As you can -hah! - as you can see from the - nnf! - the data on slide 37 -"
A particularly vicious tickle attack hit her shuddering ribcage, and she let out a high-pitched, involuntary squeak before disguising it as a cough.
"Ahem! Excuse me - yes, the - oh no no no - the metrics clearly - HA! - support this initiative!"
Her eyes were watering now, and her shaved armpits were sweating profusely. Somehow, she kept answering questions, her voice jumping an octave every time a finger found a new weak spot. The clients were starting to look concerned.
Rachel's worry escalated further as Mark unclasped her bra, and Jason slid his wriggling fingers underneath. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest instinctively, worried the commotion might be caught on camera.
Her voice was increasingly unsteady as she struggled to participate in the meeting:
"I...I think...we should...should consider... -nnf!- allocating more...more resources to...(snort) to digital channels..."
Her words faltered as Jason's hands found her nipples, lightly pinching and playing with them. Her pert buds stiffened instantly under the teasing pinches, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her body.
She was quickly descending into a maelstrom of sensations - the relentless tongues between her legs, the tickling fingers on her back and ribs, and now the teasing hands on her nipples. Her control was slipping away, the pleasure building inside her threatening to overwhelm her completely.
Her face was a mask of barely contained panic and arousal. Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes glazed and struggling to focus. She bit her lip hard, using the pain to try and center herself, to keep from crying out.
She attempted to shift where she stood, to move away from the overwhelming sensations, but the boys held her firm. Her legs trembled violently, and she felt beads of sweat trickling down her spine.
"Y-yes, regarding the Q3 projections - ah! - we're seeing - oh god - seeing exceptional growth in - unngh! - in emerging markets..."
Her thighs quivered as the dual assault continued - one tongue swirling tight circles around her clit while the other teased at her back entrance. Her free hand flew up to adjust her collar, in a desperate attempt to appear composed. But the orgasm began to build like a storm, tightening her abdomen, making her toes curl.
Her mind raced with desperate excuses, anything to justify suddenly leaving the meeting. She knew she couldn't hold out much longer, her body teetering on the edge of release.
"You little fuckers," Rachel whisper-growled through clenched teeth, "I'll - hah! - KILL you -"
But her threat dissolved into a shuddering gasp as the stimulation became unbearable. Her hips gave an involuntary twitch forward, seeking more friction, even as her mind screamed in humiliation. The boys somehow knew exactly what they were doing - pushing her toward the edge with ruthless precision.
"S-so - oh fuck - so in conclusion - please - the numbers speak for - themselves - !"*
Her knuckles were bone-white on the desk, gripping it for the dear life of her rapidly fading career prospects.
"St-stop or I'll - I'll - "
But her frantic attempts at negotiation died in her throat as the orgasm finally crashed over her. Her back arched slightly, her entire body locking up as she fought to stay silent - but a tiny, choked whimper escaped anyway.
Then a finger slid into her, and all hell broke loose.
She let out a sharp, involuntary grunt, her eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure overwhelmed her. Her arms, crossed over her chest, gripped her shoulders tightly as her body convulsed where she stood.
The boys' tongues continued to lick her furiously, drawing out every last wave of her climax as their hands gripping her waist (and the finger wiggling inside of her) held her firmly in place. Her legs shook violently, her toes curling and uncurling as the sensation became almost too much to bear.
She was distantly aware of the sounds she was making - grunts, groans, and stuttered gasps - all broadcasting loud and clear over the meeting. Her face contorted with a mix of ecstasy and mortification, the dual sensations battling for dominance.
Her colleagues' voices registered as distant, confused murmurs. She heard her name being called, questions asked, but she was powerless to respond, swept away in the storm of her orgasm.
"Rachel? Are you alright?"
"What's happening? Should we call someone?"
"Let's remain calm, she's probably just trying to communicate her xenopronouns to us-"
Their words barely penetrated the haze of pleasure and panic swirling in her mind. Her body jerked and spasmed, each wave of her climax sending another burst of sound from her lips.
She desperately fought to regain control, to stop the sounds, to still her shaking body, but it was like trying to stop a freight train. The orgasm ran its course through her overstimulated body, leaving her breathless and disoriented in its wake.
As the intense pleasure finally began to subside, the full weight of what just happened came crashing down on her. She opened her eyes, her vision swimming and unfocused, and saw the faces of her colleagues on the screen, their expressions ranging from shocked to concerned to bewildered.
She managed to uncross her arms, her hands shaking badly as she reached for the keyboard. With a final, humiliating whimper, she found the button to end the call, and the screen mercifully went black.
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her body still trembling with the aftershocks. Her knees finally buckled and she slumped to the floor, her eyes wide with shock and humiliation, her face a picture of disbelief and mortification. The room was silent except for the sound of her own breathing and the distant, muffled laughter of the boys.
Once the orgasm subsided, Rachel's simmering emotions exploded like a volcano. She jumped to her feet, the chair toppling over behind her as her face flushed a deep crimson.
"What the HELL were you thinking?!" she screamed at the two eighteen-year-olds at her feet. "How DARE you?! That was the most important meeting of my career, and you...you...oh my GOD, I can't even...I am SO FUCKING PISSED with you right now!"
Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and her body still shook from the chaotic blend of adrenaline and residual pleasure. The boys watched her outburst with amusement, then exchanged glances. They nodded, then moved as one, lunging forward and grabbing her wrists.
Rachel yelped in surprise as they pulled her down onto the floor, her anger momentarily replaced by shock. She landed with a thud, her breath whooshing out of her lungs. She tried to struggle, to fight them off, but their grips were firm and unyielding.
"Let GO of me! This isn't funny anymore! I am SERIOUSLY angry with you both!" she yelled as she squirmed on the floor.
But the boys were undeterred, their eyes shining with mischief and excitement. They began to tickle her again, their fingers finding all her most sensitive spots - her ribs, her stomach, her armpits, the backs of her knees.
Rachel's body, still flush with post-orgasm sensitivity, responded instantly. She threw her head back, a burst of involuntary laughter escaping her lips, even as she continued to scream and protest.
"Stop it! STOP! Oh my god...hahahaha...(snort)...HAHA!...I CAN'T BREATHE...STOP TICKLING ME!"
Her voice was a wild mix of laughter and anger, her body writhing and jerking as she tried to escape their tickling fingers. She kicked and flailed, her skirt riding up her thighs, while her shirt came untucked and exposed her stomach.
"GET OFF ME! HAHAHAHAHA...PLEASE...OH MY GOD...I'M STILL SO ANGRY WITH YO--HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The boys kept up their ticklish assault of this sensitive mother, their fingers dancing over her body, their laughter mingling with hers. They grabbed the hem of her shirt and, with a sudden, sharp tug, ripped it open, sending buttons flying in all directions.
Rachel gasped in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief and outrage. But before she could protest, their fingers were back on her, tickling her bare stomach, her exposed ribs, her sensitive underarms. She screamed with laughter, her body convulsing, tears streaming down her face.
Her bra, still unclasped from earlier, slipped off easily, leaving her completely topless. The boys showed no mercy, their tickling fingers exploring every inch of her exposed skin. They tickled her breasts, their fingers tracing delicate, torturous patterns around her nipples, making her scream and writhe in a vortex of arousal, anger, and desperation.
Rachel's hand brushed the length of her son's exposed cock, and her eyes widened as she realized their intent. She tried to push them away, to wriggle free, but their grips were too tight and their muscular bodies were too heavy.
"What are you doing!? NO!!!" she yelled, despite the stiffening of her nipples and the thrill fluttering in her core. "Don't you DARE... Oh my GOD!!!"
Jason positioned himself between her legs, his throbbing cock pressing against her entrance. She tried to clamp her thighs shut, to deny him access, but he was too strong, too determined.
Even as she protested, her hips began to arch, and her breath came in quick, anticipatory gasps. Her furious threats dissolved into a wanton moan as they shoved into her at the same time - her own son stretching her soaked pussy, while that irritating and aggressive friend of his pushed deep into her tight asshole. Her nails clawed at the carpet as the dual penetration overwhelmed her senses.
"Oooohhhhh god, Mommy... you feel so good..." Jason groaned as he enjoyed his mother's tight, wet heat. His lips found her aching nipples and began to suckle on them.
"F-fuck! Too much - you - oh god -" she sputtered, shaking her head wildly. The boys didn’t care. They were too far gone, too lost in the heat of her body, the way she clenched around them despite her protests. They rutted into her with rough, desperate thrusts, their hands gripping her hips hard.
Her body shook with the force of her emotions. She tries to hold onto her fury, to maintain her outrage, but the sensations were overwhelming, her body on fire with need and desire. This was so wrong, her own son, but the moment was so primal, the pleasure so overwhelming...
The boys moved in sync, their cocks thrusting in and out of Mommy in a relentless, urgent rhythm. Her body responded to theirs, her hips meeting their thrusts, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
Mark grabbed ahold of her wrists and pulled her arms up and back, restraining her and leaving her breasts and armpits exposed and vulnerable, jiggling invitingly to Jason.
Even as her body hurtled towards orgasm, Jason's fingers resumed their tickling torture, tracing delicate, maddening patterns on her sweaty breasts and armpits. He subjected her to a series of light and teasing pokes and prods, a stark contrast to the intense, powerful thrusts of his cock. He tickled her nipples, his fingertips dancing around the sensitive peaks, making her squirm and gasp.
"S-stohohop-" she begged feebly, her breasts heaving as another orgasm drew closer, "I mean it - oh fuck, hnnngh - I'll - HAHA!- I'll-"
Her laughter was breathless and desperate, her body shaking with the effort of holding back her impending climax.
Rachel’s second orgasm hit her like a freight train. Her entire body seized, and her scream of rage melted into a shuddering cry of pleasure. Her inner muscles milked the cocks inside her, drawing out their own climaxes. She felt them pulsing, the hot rush of their releases, and the boys groaned appreciatively as they filled her up. Their hot cum spilled inside as Rachel trembled beneath them in ecstasy.
As the waves of her orgasm finally began to subside, Rachel Clarke was left a shaking, breathless mess. Her body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She sagged back against Mark, her breath coming in ragged, hitching gasps, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.
She remained on the floor in a daze of confused wonder, trying - and failing - to pretend she didn’t love every second of it.
