Copyright (c) 2018,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, January 08, 2018

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: wendria5.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: Tentacles/gg(10), g/g girl/girl, semi-cons, cons, preg

story_intro: For generations, the Gilchrest Academy has produced many fine woman entering East Vespanan society. And every year, one girl is chosen from the fifth grade class for a ten year internship with the school's mysterious benefactors. Hopelessly clumsy, Francine knows she lacks the grace to be picked for this honor but her bookish curiosity sends her on a quest to discover more about this choosing. What she discovers in an old book is startling, but it does not compare with what she is about to learn most intimately.


story_language: English




Wendria: Story 5 - The Giving

Written by madvlad


	Even the girl's careful footsteps stirred the dust in the infrequently used part of the library. Francine couldn't help but to sneeze twice, covering her nose and mouth with a curled hand as proper young ladies did. With the offending particles expelled, she pushed her glasses, which had slid precariously to the end of her nose, back into place.

	Forgetting the slip of paper on which she had written the location of the tomes she sought, Francine gawked at the treasure of leather-bound knowledge all around. Had she not lived at the Gilchrest Academy since she was three, she would have been deprived of this. During the odd occasion when she thought back to her mother, she only had a hazy recollection of a nervous woman fidgeting with her little daughter's tattered dress prior to the interview. Of her father, Francine had an even vaguer impression of bristly cheeks and the aroma of machine oil and fish from the great trawler on which he spent most of his months.

	Francine didn't recall the interview at all except for meeting some nice grown-ups who asked her questions and gave her plenty of time to answer. Afterward, her mother said goodbye and Francine remained in the care of the school. Gilchrest's mission was to produce young women of the finest education and culture to enhance society throughout the continent of East Vespana. In Francine, like the others in her class, they had seen the potential in the three year-old and had lifted her away from gritty streets of Ashburnham.

	Gilchrest's funding was kept tastefully anonymous. The staff reverently spoke of The Beneficent, who supplied the school in actual gold every year. But that was not all. When the annual bequest was made, one remarkable student in the fifth grade was chosen to intern with them for ten years, a ceremony known as The Giving. Francine knew that Miss Celwyn, a dashing, raven-haired young woman had interned before returning to the school as a counselor two years earlier. Miss Celwyn would soon move on to higher circles of society but she served in her current role in selecting a student for The Giving with the utmost passion.

	While Francine excelled in her studies, she knew she had never stood a chance for The Giving. Her ballet was a stumbling mess before the teacher kindly allowed the girl to take extra scholastic lessons in place of the dance. Overall, she was rather clumsy - the sort who might spill her afternoon tea and that sort of thing. No, the girl chosen for The Giving must have top qualities all around.

	Francine reached the last row of shelves. Interspersed down the aisle between the shelves and the wall were heavy wrought iron grates that allowed heat from the basement furnace far below to keep the high-ceilinged top floor quite cozy. Pausing at a small window, Francine grinned as she spied the edifice of the great Fenway Greens just four blocks away. 

	Everyone of all classes shared a passion for Boston's rugby team. Generations of players in their blue pinstriped jerseys had won an unassailable number of World Series Cups, bestowed upon the overall champions of Wendria. Adding to the pride of the fans was that quite a few of these titles came at the expense of their red-stockinged archrivals from Yorkton.

	Remembering her project, Francine put away thoughts of the rugby pitch and went looking for the book she sought. She had been very secretive, not even asking any of the librarians who knew her so fondly for assistance. While Francine was not even considered to be the girl for The Giving, she was overjoyed to learn that her own roommate, Camilla, would be the one. 

	Over course it should be Camilla, Francine thought with no trace of envy. With her crystal blue eyes, golden curls, impeccable manners and grace, and an overall sweetness in character, who better to represent their class? Francine thought of herself as kind of homely with her dark brown hair that refused any attempt at styling except to hang straight down. Her finest achievements of grace were the few times she had managed to make it through the day without some collection of stains on her white school pinafore. Her best features, in her own opinion, were her dark eyes but even those were usually imprisoned behind the wire-rimmed glasses she had needed for these past four years.

	Francine sighed. But none of that was Camilla's fault. In the privacy of their room, the pair often shared every intimate secret and dream their young lives had produced thus far. Francine's only regret in Camilla having been chosen was that she would not see her best friend for ten years.

	That impending separation was all the more bittersweet because of the latest discover the two of them had shared. For years, the girls at Gilchrest at giggled and whispered about the mysteries of kissing. While chaperoned events with boys from another school did occur, many a girl pondered what it would be like to be alone with a member of the opposite sex.

	It was Camilla who had approached Francine after an older girl of fifteen named Charlotte had taken her into the woods.

	"It was so wonderful," Camilla had gushed. "Just the two of us sitting together on a blanket. We had our paints and easels, of course, to do nature studies for Mrs. Meredith's class. But, oh, the things she knew!"

	"It's just a kiss," Francine replied, confused at her normally level-headed friend's infatuation with a simple act. "We've kissed each other plenty of times."

	"But those were pecks on the cheek. It's very much different when it is mouth to mouth and...well, more than that."

	"How can it be more?" Francine giggled. "Honestly, Camilla, you're being very flighty."

	"Please, can I show you?"

	Francine didn't mind. The pair sat together on the bed and turned their heads to face one another. Leaning in, Camilla kissed Francine directly on the lips. Francine was surprised by the pleasant spark she received from the contact. They remained like that for some time with Francine intrigued by how Camilla moved her lips while holding the kiss. When she tried to emulate that, Camilla surprised her with the next move. Never had she expected to have another girl's tongue in her mouth!

	Francine pulled her head back and Camilla put a hand on her shoulder. The other girl said nothing but her blue eyes were gentle and pleading. Francine leaned forward, her heart pounding as she accepted Camilla's oral probing. With curiosity overriding her shyness, Francine allowed their tongues to make contact.

	Their joining was wet and slippery. With mounting hunger, they swabbed at one another's tongues and lips. It wasn't until the chimes in the hall sounded for dinner that they realized they had lost over and hour. Both of their faces were flushed and they couldn't suppress the grins of their shared secret as they hurriedly joined the others for their evening meal.

	That night, they were each in bed with the room dark,

	"Frannie?" Camilla called out softly. She was the only one who called her that.

	"Yes?"

	"When we were kissing, did you feel, um, warm?"

	"Yes, I think we were both a little sweaty."

	"Not that. I mean warm...in a certain place."

	Francine was silent for a moment. 

	"Yes," she admitted in a voice that suddenly squeaky.

	"Was it...between your legs? You know, in your privates."

	"Ahmm," was all that Francine could manage, but Camilla understood.

	"Charlotte says that comes with kissing like we did. She's going to show me more and I'll show you. Would you like that?"

	"Oh, yes!" Francine replied before cringing at her enthusiasm. "Maybe tomorrow we can...oh! Tomorrow Miss Celwyn will announce who in our class will be chosen for The Giving. I can't believe I forgot."

	"I can forget it if there's lots of kissing," Camilla snickered.

	"How can you say that? You'll be the one who is chosen. I just know it."

	Now Camilla was silent.

	"I'll miss you if I go," she said.

	"But if you're chosen for The Giving - it's wonderful."

	"Do you know what happens at The Giving, Francine? I know other students aren't allowed to meet The Beneficent but if there's any record, I just know you'd be the one to read it. You read everything."

	"I've never seen anything about it - only what the teachers have told us."

	Camilla sighed,

	"Well, if I do go, we won't see each other until we're young ladies."

	"I'm sure we'll be friends, then," Francine insisted.

	"Friends with kisses," Camilla giggled.

	There hadn't been time for any more kisses after Camilla's name was announced. The next three days were a whirlwind but Francine wanted to give her dearest friend a parting gift. If she could find anything about the ceremony for The Giving, she was sure that Camilla wouldn't be as nervous. Francine knew she was no dancer, but she knew how to find books and find the right things in books.

	Francine finally located the book, "Potuisse Datis". Latin for "Becoming the Given" it was a thin volume with the recollections of a girl from over a hundred years ago who had been chosen. Each vellum page held either writing done in an elegant script or remarkably detailed drawings.  Standing by the bookshelf, Francine sighed wistfully at the image of a girl her age but from along ago wearing a simple white gown. She knew that Camilla would be wearing just such a thing tomorrow. 

	She quickly scanned the first few pages in curiosity, knowing she would go back later to take notes. But she stopped suddenly as the picture the author had drawn of herself in the nude. Next to it was a close-up rendering of the girl's pubis with the note about the pucelage being taken. What was a pucelage? And why would any girl want to appear before The Beneficent without any clothes?

	The next illustrations made Francine feel dizzy. The girl was naked with thick green (vines?) wrapping around her. The vine-things were holding her legs apart. Making an uneasy noise in her throat, Francine stepped backward, uncomprehending the images she was seeing. 

	On the next page, another green vine was touching the girl's privates. No, its tip was...inside the small cleft of the girl. It was going inside of her private place!

	Francine staggered backward, yelping when her left foot found emptiness instead of the floor. The book fell from her hands as she tumbled into the place where the heavy wrought iron grate had been slid aside. As she flailed, her glasses flew off. 

	Oh, clumsy me, she thought for a moment as, not for the first time, her glasses went spinning away. Then the panic of her situation returned. 

	Something stopped her - held her. Francine flung her arms out onto the floor as she remained at waist level above the opening. Whatever was holding her shifted and adjusted itself about her body. It was fleshy and others were wrapping around her legs. The image of those green vines on the girl in the book flashed in Francine's mind.

	She opened her mouth to scream but was yanked into the ventilation shaft before a sound could emerge.

	Writhing within the winding grasp of those things, Francine panicked. They were not vines but something muscular. Dimly, she was aware of her clothing leaving her in shreds as she was pulled lower -far lower than even the basement. She prayed to God and to Jesus and the Saints and to Siddhartha and Odin and Freya...

	Voices.

	Many of them filling her head; amused with her, soothing her.

	[This is the inquisitive one]

	[Fear not, young one]

	[Curious, she is]

	[She is of age]

	[Breeder]

	[Breeder]

	[She will understand when the mating begins]

	[With breeding comes knowledge, young one]

	Two tendrils fastened themselves to her chest, covering her undeveloped nipples. They were pulling...no...sucking at them. Francine felt her nipples stiffening like she when was too cold, but this was much more and she ached. Something emerged from the sucking ends of the tendrils - much finer like threads, penetrating the tiny openings meant to discharge milk in the years ahead. It hurt and her jaws stretched open again to yell but another thing filled it. She couldn't stop as it entered her throat. She needed to breathe.

	[We will breathe for you, young one]

	[And nourish you]

	Francine was not suffocating but she didn't know why. With no air coming in, her chest was not moving except where the threads were stroking in and out of her nipples, making them puffy far before their time. It was much like how the thing in her throat was moving and a heavy, deep rhythm.

	"Why are you doing this to me?" she mentally asked.

	And she learned they could read her as well as they could send to her.

	[Preparing you, young one]

	"Who are you?"

	[The Beneficent]

	"But...but...Camilla! You were going to do this to Camilla!"

	[Who is Camilla]

	[She was chosen for The Giving]

	[This young one needed to be taken]

	[Agreed]

	[You are honored, young one]

	[We prepare you for stimulation and response]

	[All over]

	[Young ones must be stimulated all over]

	Something pushed between her trim buttocks. Francine quailed, understanding that it was like the thing in her throat. But what was it do...?

	With a surge, the tentacle forced the preteen's anus open. The shock of the abrupt opening and the invasion of such a place stunned the girl. Her eyes rolling in the dark, Francine experienced the heavy pressure against her stretched orifice as the thing entered her, moving deeper and deeper. Then it changed direction - only temporarily as the movements matched those in her mouth and on her chest. 

	The thing in her throat expanded and something hot blasted into her belly. As the thing widened and contracted, it pumped more of the stuff into her.

	[Nutrition]

	As the tentacle pulled out of her mouth, the threads in her nipples discharged. Francine moaned at the sudden bursts of pressure in her chest. The threads withdrew but the tendrils remained, gently nudging and sucking at her. There was enough light in the place, some cavern of flesh where she could see her modified body.

	Years before any Wendrian girl should know such a thing, the ten year-old observed the two small round blooms on her chest. She had breasts.

	[Preparation]

	[Your kind produces milk when pregnant]

	Milk? Like a cow? And how could she be pregnant? She was just a little girl and didn't even know how babies were made. Did it happen when the stuff got pumped into her belly?

	[You will understand, soon, young one]

	[She is becoming carnal]

	[Yes, yes, soon]

	The thick mass in her rectum seemed to alter shape as it moved, elongating for deeper penetration into her guts and widening to make her feel it moving inside her packed little rectal tubing. It should have hurt but it...it was making the rest of her private parts feel like they did when she kissed Camilla that one night - but even stronger now.

	[She knows the chosen one for The Giving]

	[Camilla was the young one to be taken]

	[This young one is ready]

	Francine groaned. She was no longer just warm in her cunny - she was sopping wet and dripping lewdly from her bald slit.

	[Breeding now]

	With her limbs held fast and wide, Francine could only watch as the tentacle pressed against her hairless pussy. The delicate lips of her mound opened easily and she felt it pushing inside where she was smaller. She could only pee from there - how could it possibly go in that little hole?

	The tip ground against her agitated tissues, making her squirm with spasms of lust. A tendril fastened to her clit, digging under the hood to maul the sensitive nubbin.

	"Ungh!" Francine throatily groaned. "Something....I need....I don't know...

	In the grasp of the beings' appendages, the youngster writhed as she was struck by waves of orgasmic frenzy. Her quivering snatch was soaking the tentacle pushing against the opening, preparing both body parts for the task to come. 

	The tentacle thrust inward, shredding the ten year-old's maidenhead. Francine lurched as she was deflowered, the sting registering as pain but also tweaking her climax to another peak. As her orgasm subsided, the tentacle withdrew. Francine stared at the bloodstains from where she had been torn and mewled in fright.

	[No fear, young one]

	[Breeding]

	[Breeding]

	The tentacle dug in again, this time fully penetrating the little girl's virgin pussy until it was mashing against her cervix. Francine shuddered, her mind reeling as she felt a part of her she knew nothing about being filled and expanded. Why was this happening?

	[Breeding]

	She had read about breeding - something that was done on farms or by owners of certain animals to produce more offspring. They - whoever was speaking into her head - had said something about what would happen when she was pregnant. This thing inside of her - Oh! It was moving now. This thing was going to make her pregnant? She was being bred - just like a prize animal.

	[Only the finest for breeding, young one]

	[You will make more of us]

	The little girl whimpered as the muscular flesh reamed her tender young cunt. Now the tentacle began working like a corkscrew, spinning as it plunged into her, making her spew her juices from her bulging twat hole as the heavy meat slid between the hairless folds of her childish sex. In the low light, the fifth grader's sleek, nude body gleamed as she sweated from every pore. The slender figure undulated as the heaving tentacle copulated with the preteen.

	The deeper invasion of Francine came in heavy jets of thick, steaming semen. The girl grunted loudly as the tentacle expanded with each surge of jism that pumped its potent seed into her womb. Her organs reacted with hormones she wasn't yet meant to produce. While the ten year-old was only aware of the tentacle thrusting between her open thighs and the thundering pulse of her insemination, her first ovulation was beginning in a premature rush.

	Then the tentacle embedded in her ass released, pulsing more cum into her body. Another orgasm hit her as she felt the slimy rush of fluid pressurizing her innards. Her thoughts spun wildly as she tried to sort everything out.

	[Stimulation brings pleasure]

	[The young one must be sensitized to enjoy breeding]

	Francine gasped as the two appendages withdrew at once. She felt empty as the semen streamed from her defiled places. More tentacles coiled around her, with another pair nudging against her dripping openings. She nervously squirmed at the impending intrusion but also felt a flare of needful anticipation.

	[She wants it, now]

	"Yes," Francine whispered aloud.

	Her next sounds were more animal-like; as if she were in heat as two thick tentacles twisted and plunged into her snug, oozing holes. Trembling, the preteen took the grinding, muscular double penetration of her body. Tendrils encircled and tightened around her brand new breasts, making the sensitive nipples pop out a little more to be played with. As her hot rectum was ravaged, her soupy little cunt convulsed around the heaving meat testing its tautness. 

	And when her young womb was seeded again, her first egg was ready and the ten year-old completed her early introduction into womanhood.

	With several of them holding lanterns, the women gathered near the bookshelf that Francine had discovered. The head librarian tutted as she replaced the fallen book on the shelf. The little girl had taken such joy in the library, but that was over now. The literature teacher held the oft-repaired glasses. A younger, black-haired woman joined them.

	"Did The Beneficent take her?" one of the other teachers asked. "After all, the book..."

	Lucille Celwyn nodded and smiled gently.

	"Don't think they were upset, though. They just needed to protect their privacy and then found her to be, shall we say, quite acceptable."

	"Oh my!" the headmistress exclaimed as she brought her hand to her mouth. "You mean she has been bred?"

	Lucille closed her eyes for a moment, her link with the creatures known as The Beneficent still strong from her ten years with them. Then her smile widened.

	"She is gravid, now."

	"But what of The Giving, tomorrow?"

	Lucille was puzzled. Something like this had never happened before. And her mental inquiries went unanswered as The Beneficent were still preoccupied. She knew well that they did not cease their pleasures once the conception was complete.

	"I don't know. It would be best to proceed as usual."

	"So you think she went down through here?' another teacher asked, changing the subject as she tapped the floor grate with her foot.

	"Probably, so," Lucille answered.

	"Be careful tapping that grate, Hortense," one of the younger teachers quipped. "Or you might get taken for a ride."

	The women all chuckled at the ribald humor. While they had deep respect for The Beneficent, more than one joke about their appendages had been swapped about when no students were nearby.

	"Can I have a ride?" a small voice queried.

	Startled, several teachers spun to see a very little girl in one of the school's white nightgowns standing there. In the lantern light, her fair skin and light brown curls looked almost ethereal.

	"And who is this?" Lucille asked, bemused by the sincerity in the tot's wide blue eyes.

	"That would be Gracie, our little adventurer from the second year nursery school," the headmistress chuckled. "She's an angel, but does like to wander."

	"Why are you out of bed?" a teacher asked.

	"I heard walking and saw lights and I wanted to see," the tot explained. "Can I have a ride?"

	Lucille bent and picked the four year-old up. 

	"It's a ride for bigger girls. One of them just met The Beneficent."

	"I wanna meet the Bennisent, too."

	Lucille imagined Gracie's soft and tiny body in the loving grasp of penetrating tentacles and felt the reaction in her loins. 

	"Perhaps when you're older, you will - just like I did. But now it's past your bed-time. Shall I take you back?"

	Gracie nodded. Lucille waited to get a nod of approval from the headmistress before carrying the girl off. Giving the little girl's rump a squeeze, she felt the tickle of inquisitiveness from The Beneficent in her head. Having sampled one curious student, they wanted to know more about this one. Rarely had students gone out of their way to try to find them as none knew where to look or who they were.

	"She's only four years old," the woman mentally broadcast. "She can't breed at this age."

	The creatures were silent but she felt the undercurrent of deep thoughts among them.

	"Can she?" she asked aloud, drawing a confused look from Gracie.

	As Lucille closed the door behind her, Camilla stood alone in the white gown she had worn during the farewell ceremony. She smiled at the memory of one of the little nursery school girls this morning asking if she could have a ride with her when she went away. Miss Celwyn, the headmistress, and several teachers had found it especially amusing for reasons Camilla could not fathom.

	Looking around, she saw no other doors. How would The Beneficent come to take her away for her apprenticeship?

	Then there was the last instruction Miss Celwyn had given her. Camilla blushed at the thought but removed her gown, draping it neatly over the chair. Despite her nervousness and anticipation, she found her thoughts drifting back to Francine. She hadn't been at dinner nor had she come back to the room to sleep last night. Where was she?

	Was she stung by Camilla's selection and tried to run away?  Francine had never hinted as such. Camilla was tortured by the thought of having hurt her friend - inadvertently so, but still...

	[She is content, young one]

	Camilla went rigid at the thought-voice in her mind. Then there were others, welcoming and calming her. She became so relaxed under the onslaught of mental caresses that when a hidden wall panel opened, she only watched with curiosity as the appendages came for her. Like the thoughts in her head, the tentacles wrapped around her, explored her. 

	She became weightless and aware that she was being carried off. The physical touches were becoming more deliberate and provocative. The girl's breathing quickened as her new experiences unfolded and she responded. It was if there were preparing her for something. She wanted to melt because it ached so beautifully.

	But one stubborn thought of regret for her lost friend flared.

	[Yes, we know that young one]

	[We have known her completely now]

	"Francine?" Camilla called out with hope. 

	The images and impressions came to her. Francine was naked, just like her. Her legs were held open while she was entered. And Camilla learned how her best friend's tight virgin pussy felt as it opened for the first time around a tentacle. The flesh of the ten year-old's sex was so succulent as it engulfed the invading member. She yearned for Francine in a way she had never known.

	Then Camilla became aware of the thrust that sundered her own hymen and began her own initiation.

	She had met all of the others - nine of them from the previous years. They were all in various stages of pregnancy although some, like her, weren't showing yet. But Francine knew it wouldn't be long before her own tummy began to swell with the life growing inside it.

	She had no idea how far the caverns stretched but understood they went everywhere they needed to. The interiors were lined with moist flesh that cushioned her wherever she sat or lay down and the creatures appendages seemed to appear at random from sudden openings. Already, the creatures had begun to teach her of things. She'd have no books for ten years but there were other ways of learning and she understood she was only starting.

	They had been there for eons before the pilgrims arrived from Old Home. Already, Francine had a grasp of the symbiosis between the hive and the school that was built above it. The former could provide wealth and the latter gave them breeding stock. 

	Only the best. 

	Despite her weariness from the night before, Francine felt a glow of pride in being one of the few selected although she worried about poor Camilla. The creatures had been strangely silent when she inquired about her friend.

	"Hello."

	It was Colleen. She was three years older and Francine remembered her farewell ceremony. That had been the last year that Francine had dreamt of being selected for The Giving before reality began to sink in. And now...

	Francine sat down next to the older girl and couldn't help staring. Colleen was very, very pregnant. Normally a willowy girl, her belly was heavily swollen and she had told Francine she was due in about a week. Two tentacles had attached themselves to the thirteen year-old's plump titties and were pulsing.

	"What are they doing?" Francine asked.

	"Drinking my milk. The babies don't need it but our bodies make it when we get pregnant. But The Beneficent love to drink it. That's good because it hurts if I get too full. And we can't drink it all ourselves."

	"What?"

	Colleen smiled and gently nudged at a tentacle on one breast. It released, letting a few white drops dribble on the areola. 

	"Here, try it," she said.

	With some hesitancy, Francine leaned down and took the young teen's engorged nipple in her mouth. She didn't have to suck much before the warm, sweet liquid began to flow. She liked the taste and the closeness with the other girl. Colleen lazily stroked Francine's hair and allowed the ten year-old to nurse at her leisure. 

	Finally, Francine reluctantly sat up, her cheeks a little red.

	"Sorry, I didn't mean to drink so much."

	"Don't be sorry," Colleen laughed as the tentacle resumed its draining of her little milk bag while its twin steadily worked on the other. "It feels so good to be milked. It makes me feel good all over."

	Colleen stroked the smooth lips of her vulva, the fingertip coming away damp. Francine felt awkward but had to ask a question.

	"Do they...do they stop doing all of the other stuff when you have a baby in you?"

	Colleen winked.

	"Do you miss it already?" 

	Francine blushed but nodded. Colleen laughed.

	"Don't worry, they won't let you get lonely. Only when you get this big like I am - then they have to be a little more careful. Oh, hello!"

	A tentacle slithered from an orifice in the floor and nuzzled at Colleen's moist cleft. Another one slid beneath her buttocks and, judging from Colleen's expression, Francine guessed that the thirteen year-old had just been anally penetrated. While the other girls and women were not shy about getting sexual attention where everyone could see, Francine was still a little embarrassed and left to give Colleen some privacy.

	"Frannie?"

	Francine turned and saw her friend. Camilla's breasts were slightly bloated while Francine's had already returned to normal. The others had explained that her initial inflation there had just been a way to prepare her body for making the milk that The Beneficent loved so well.

	"Camilla!"

	The two girls ran to each other and embraced. Their words overran each other as they spoke of their experience and their worries for each other. Finally, they were sitting side by side, tired but happy and content to be quiet

	"Frannie?" Camilla finally spoke.

	"Yes?"

	"Even with all of this stuff...uh...I'd like to....Do you want to kiss like we did before?"

	Francine rolled to face her friend and answered with her lips and then her tongue. They embraced and soon Francine was on top of Camilla, their naked bodies pressed together as they kissed and licked in each other's mouths. It wasn't long before they were joined as tentacles wrapped around both of them. Smaller tendrils sought their clits, slipping under the hoods to capture their prizes so that the swollen nubs were mashed together. Hot liquid bursts led to mingled juices where the ten year-olds' twats were pressed together.

	Larger appendages curled and slid between the silky young ass cheeks, squeezing through the narrow rings of muscle to enter the warm, plush interiors. The sodomized preteens moaned together, the vibrations dancing on their entwined tongues. More touches pushed their hairless folds of their cunnies open and their nectar-laden little passages were soon filled and stroked as the intimate orgy progressed.

	Grunting anxiously, they hungrily ravaged each other's mouths while thrusting meat sluiced in and out of their tight fuck holes. Once more in heat, the little brood mares wanted to be taken roughly, humping with their narrow pelvises to grind against each other. Feeling the puffy mounds of Camilla's inflated little breastlets against her own flat chest, Francine envisioned them together when they were grossly pregnant, feeding on each other's milk.

	The tentacles came as one, heavily creaming the children's bowels and wombs. Their lean bellies each swelled a bit from the copious tentacle cum pounding their warm little bodies and pushed against each other although the snug embrace of the surrounding tentacles wouldn't let them be pushed apart. It was the final thing that pushed the new lovers into mutual orgasms.

	Wearily, they looked into each other's eyes. They could feel more appendages swarming around them and, despite their exhaustion, hoped their hosts weren't finished with them quite yet.


Copyright (c) 2018 madvlad

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm

























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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