Innocent Heritage

Story by ZeHell-ScythefanToo

Hey, everyone! Really long time no post. It has been an equally long time since I had written any stories I felt worth posting, much less finishing, even though I've got little things here and there I'll consider dropping on this board sometime... Right now, I'm proud of this one. Inspired by equal parts mythology and theology (and I have a degree in neither), this story is to be considered a sort of erotic mystery/thriller that doesn't delve too deep into either genre, but also has plenty of plot. It is also rather lengthy, so save it for a nice rainy night. Please enjoy. And yes, I chose some naming conventions for a reason that you may find stupid or non-immersive. It all makes sense as a single unit...

Full list of tags: male/female, male/futa, futa/female, masturbation, auto-fellatio, oral, anal, vaginal, multiple penetration, mother/daughter, transformation, female to futa, cock growth, breast expansion, inflation, excessive cum, hyper

You may read this story on my site (plain text) (site reader) or click the spoiler below to proceed.

   "My sisters, hear the plea for independence! For too long have we been subject to the torments of those who would use us, who would treat us like receptacles then toss us away without a care for our further wellbeings! That! Ends! Today!"

   Despite the amount of cheering to be heard at the rally where this rousing speech was being given, young Mint yawned and wiped the sleep from her eyes before resuming eating her breakfast cereal at the table. This was a typical morning in the household, the smell of eggs wafting from the kitchenette as Mint's guardian Jean cooked them and Mint feeling indifferent about many things as she did her best to just eat, wake up, mentally prepare for the school day ahead. She was too old to be worrying about the propaganda airing on the telly, much less sitting here scooping milk-soaked meal into her face before she left for her education obligations. But Jean insisted that Mint eat SOMETHING before she leaves the house each day, there's not much learning that goes on with an empty stomach! Whatever, Mint internally disregarded for the umpteenth time in typical teenage defiance - just once, she'd like to be able to smuggle even the tiniest insubordination out from underneath Jean's all-controlling, but entirely well-meaning, thumb, if even to test a dumb theory as going breakfastless for a day!

   "You all know the horrors we are besieged with, day in and day out. Those like us, yet unlike us. Those who seek to displace our Sirefolk with their invasive organs, to weigh our bodies down and keep us from contributing to every day efforts! Our freedom, my fellow Breastians, is their target!" Mint grumbled as the state-funded speech wore on - the program was playing solely for Jean's interest, and Mint would receive a screeching earful if she hit the telly's power button. 'Breastians' as Mint learned in school nominally referred to the gifted females of society, the fit, the fertile, the fecund, the filled-out figures amongst them that bore the brunt of reproduction. Jean and Mint were amongst those regarded as Breastians, in fact, and Mint cared little to glance between her own bra-secured DD-cup boobs and Jean's massive J-cup tits that she could barely keep contained within a blouse and/or apron. The menfolk, as mentioned, were commonly known as 'Sirers', those who possessed no breasts yet all the means to instill Breastian bearers with children and thus were vital to the continuation of Breastian society as everyone knew it. Most often was the term 'Breastians' used to refer to groups of mixed sex, given that everyone who resided here was a citizen of the 'Territory of Breastia' (or just 'Breastia' for short), even those considered outcasts and the displacers of the menfolk, as the speaker further referred to them... "The Phallen shall not be allowed to control us, to touch us let alone spill their seed within us! Their kind must be dealt with, and to this end I announce the five-step plan to clean away their presence!"

   Jean predictably cheered as she shoveled her eggs onto a plate. Mint groaned so as not to be heard over Jean or the telly, not so much sympathetic as to the fates of members of the Cult of the Phallusean, or "The Phallen" as Breastian leaders had creatively named them, as to be intelligent enough to read between the lines about a five-step civic plan: more rules and responsibilities in an already carefully cultured society. Mint couldn't wait for curfew to tighten from "dark" to a specified hour. Not that such a change was unreasonable, given that the Cult was considered to be a considerable threat to Breastian livelihoods...

   Just to reinforce the idea that they might be a threat, a sudden loud bang rocked the

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