All of Eve's Hallows - (Futa/F, Pregnancy, Magic, Mother/Daughter, Growth, Muscle)

Story by eccentricman

Wanted to have this up for Halloween, but it's run on. Here's the first half. Second half to follow soon.

Enjoy!

I was nineteen when I gave birth to my daughter, and still a virgin. I still remember it now, and fondly, the delivery uncomplicated and straightforward – the feeling of elation and love when I held her, and the Sign that she bore. There were questions from the doctors and midwives, but there was enough money left in the family account to shut flapping mouths and keep secrets secret.

My daughter had a small, perfectly formed penis right above her vagina. Both appeared to be healthy and the presence of the penis signalled both an end and a beginning.

- Eve

/////

One hundred generations of lust and sin had reached this point, a 99 children born without fathers, and the last born to father the next one hundred. It had started in the remote woods of eastern Europe, amid the dark canopies and the mutterings of isolated women known locally as “striga” or witches. In their isolation and abandonment, they had sought enchantments to satisfy their needs for sexual release, for companionship, for love and children of their own. Of these Lilita was the strongest witch, red-haired and sometimes red-handed - the most creative of the forest striga, but one who lusted not after the other women, instead harbouring a deep, twisted desire to seduce her own offspring.

Through dark arts and a strand of a beautiful maiden's hair, she brought about a daughter, a pureborn fruit of her womb. She raised her daughter with all the care of a dutiful mother, educating her, sending her away to grow and see the world and treating her as any mother might treat a beloved daughter. She maybe dressed a little better and flirted a little more, but these were small sins, taken against the whole. The daughter grew to be as fine as the maiden and Lilita together, fine and powerful enough in her own right to take whatever she wanted from life – physically and mentally tough, independent - but she had also bred true in another way. She desired nobody in life but her own mother, and the idea of seducing those of her own blood who came after her.

They shared a life of lesbian incest, power and beauty together, finding happiness in each other's arms and joy in their mutual lusts.

Being a striga, Lilita saw her own death as all of her kind did. She knew when to sit her daughter down and pass on the secret of the ritual and the maiden's hair. She also showed her daughter how to carve a symbol on a small, rounded stone, and what that symbol did.

That meant that four weeks later, when the daughter came upon Lilita's broken body at the bottom of a landslide she did not simply howl and sob - though she grieved long and shed many tears for her mother and lover – but she took the stone from where it lay tied to a cord about Lilita's neck and kept it. She kept it and, after burying her mother in the dark, retreated to their home and conducted her own ritual.

Some time later her own daughter was born, and some time after that, no more than a couple of weeks before Lilita's first daughter died of a horrible misfortune with a bridge, the secret, Lilita's stone and the secret of her own stone were passed onto another generation.

/////

When Magda, the 75th of her line, caught a ship to the famed “New World”, she had to hire two strong valets. One to carry her luggage, the other to carry a heavy barrel of small, inscribed stones – a barrel that now contained over two-dozen 'blank' stones from her homeland in addition to the others. As she travelled, she stayed in her cabin, away from the prying eyes of eager young men, locked in with her daughter as they shared and wrote down the oral tradition of their strange, singular family. Each generation had a quirk, a touchstone, a fetish which marked it out beyond the basic strangeness of their family. A fondness for breasts, or round buttocks, or long hair, or large nipples, muscular physiques, or simply large, pouting lips – all were recorded, along with the death sigils of the women who had nursed these longings.

/////

Eve smiled as Adele turned and the flash went off. The shot was perfect: a hot, toned fitness teen dream with a megawatt smile turning, her back to camera, dressed in dark distressed fabric and wearing a long dark wig over shorter dark hair. Halloween makeup, all artful palour and vampish seduction, completed the look. All around, a constellation of small stones gleamed with authentically eldritch light, making the shot eerie and atmospheric.

“You couldn't see the bulge?” Adele said, standing before trotting over and looking at the camera display, checking the shot.

Eve grinned and turned the camera so the screen faced Adele, “It's a nice big bulge darling...” she teased, putting an arm around her daughter and pressing a heavy breast against her arm, “..

... more on the forums ...