Work Text:
SQWOOONNNHOONNKK!
Lisa flinched as she heard the awful note she had coaxed out of the saxophone, heard the ripple of shocked murmurs through the audience of the school recital.
This was going horribly. She wanted to cry.
She didn’t want to be here, honouring some nearly-forgotten commitment her music teacher had signed her up for. She hadn’t practiced in months, preoccupied with her efforts in running Strong Women of Illinois - a programme she had started to help more vulnerable young women like herself. She hadn’t indulged in a ‘sweet sixteen’ party like all her friends had - she’d been setting up a women’s shelter in an old strip mall building that week.
But now, looking out into a sea of faces, many of whom were women or girls, judging her, she felt like screaming at them, “I was BUSY! Busy trying to HELP YOU!”
HHIIIYYYIIIIOOONNKK!
That high, piercing fart of a note was the final straw - Lisa stood and, with tears streaming down her face, ran out of the recital hall and out into the school yard, only slowing down when she was most of the way home.
/////
Marge put her hand to her mouth and murmured, “Oh dear!” as she saw Lisa lose control and flee. It had been hard to watch her daughter - always so passionate and connected to her music and her work in the community - suffer through a growing sense of failure and betrayal. Her heart went out to Lisa and she knew that Homie would-
“HRRNNK!? Huh, whuzzat?” Homer grumbled as he snored himself awake, looking around in bleary surprise.
Marge felt her hands curl into fists in irritation where they rested in her lap and couldn’t stop an angry little “Hmmmm!” from bubbling up in response.
“Homer!” she hissed, “I can’t belie- uh, how did you manage to sleep through that?”
Homer looked at her, then at the stage, then his eyes widened, “Where’s Lisa, Marge?!”
There were a pair of smokey chuckles from beside the family and Marge looked across to the lean, muscular forms of Selma and Patty, her sisters sitting with their brawny, muscular arms crossed and rolling their eyes at Homer’s obliviousness. Then, as one, the sisters glanced past him at Marge, their twin eyes trailing down to where the top of her washing-machine-shrunk dress bared quite a lot more tit than it usually did, and a lot more than people might normally suspect was there to be bared in the first place.
Marge gulped and looked away, turning to Homer again, “You need to stay here with Maggie, Homie - her piano recital is in an hour-“
“An hour?!”
“Homer!” she hissed, eyes nervously darting around and seeing how many others had noticed his outburst, “I’ll try and be back soon. I just want to make sure Lisa is ok!”
“Huh, Lisa?”
“Hmmmm!” Marge growled at him, irritated before leaning past him to address Maggie, the young girl watching the performance impassively, sucking on a lollipop, “Maggie - look after your father. If he drools on you, just elbow him in the ribs or tell him Selma wants a kiss - either will work!”
Maggie didn’t stop sucking on her lollipop or look at her mother, but simply gave Marge a thumbs-up and carried on watching the music.
Marge, for her part, stood quickly and shuffled along the row of seats, her thick ass leaving a trail of disapproving tuts from the women and a range of trouser tents from the guys she brushed past on the way out.
Hurrying to the car, she got in, started the engine and reversed out of the space, tires screeching as she accelerated out of the parking lot. She took a left, a right and a left and three minutes later was at her house, car skidding to a stop just in front of their house.
And, as she hurried to the door and let herself in, she heard a sound unlike any other she’d ever encountered: an echoing resonant boom, a suction of something out of her mind. It sent a shiver up her spine… and warmed her up in a way she didn’t really understand.
/////
Lisa had been running the short distance between the recital hall and her home when she’d suddenly been… somewhere else, listening to the sound of liquid heartache as atop a cloud, Bleeding Gums Murphy performed, making his saxophone sing like a diva.
She gasped, and then put a hand over her mouth, mortified at interrupting him.
“Oh, hey, it’s Lisa Simpson!” Bleeding Gums said genially as he lowered the saxophone from his lips and stopped playing, “You must have had some kind of traumatic life event… and really be feeling the blues, right now.”
Lisa didn’t trust herself to speak, brushing tears out of her eyes and nodding.
“Well, I’m only a figment of your imagination, so I can’t do a thing to help, but I’ll listen - and give what advice I can.”
Lisa began explaining, her voice hesitant at first and she nearly cried again when she tried to recreate the sound she’d made at the recital and he jumped, looking appalled. He shook it off as the story continued, and at the end, he let his shoulders sag and took a seat on a fluffy outcrop of cloud, patting a space next to him in invitation.
When she sat, he put an arm companionably around her shoulders and leaned in, “Hey, I can put an arm around your shoulders because I’m functionally you, and this isn’t sexual harassment. Now, onto the real stuff.”
Lisa nodded and said, “What do I need to do, Bleeding Gums? I’m a laughingstock at my school and I’ve lost the feeling of the blues!”
“Well, Lisa, I think you’ve got to change it up - practice, listen and get in touch with your own feelings and the feelings of those around you. Really FEEL them, you know? Put that into the sax and it will all be fine… and the stronger your feelings are, the better you’ll play. And hey, if you’re going to suck, put that sax to your mouth, push your lips together, Lisa… and SUCK. Or something like that, ha, yeah.”
He ended in a chuckle and faded away, seemingly even a little confused by his own strange advice, but Lisa felt she could understand where he was coming from. She needed to do something different right now, get it out of her system.
The clouds parted and she came back to herself mid-stride as she jogged the last little bit back home.
When she got to the house, she ran up to her room and eagerly set about trying to get back in tune with herself, trying to find those strong feelings, trying to make the change real. It wasn’t very long at all before she heard her mom pulling into the driveway.
As the front door opened, Lisa shrugged, a little annoyed that her practice hadn’t done much in the last three or four entire minutes, and with a little sigh, she breathed out…
… and then she put her lips on the mouthpiece of her sax - and sucked.
/////
Marge climbed the stair quickly, but she couldn’t help dwell on all of Homer’s failings as she thought about what she could say to Lisa. Was it too much to want a man who was in good shape, strong… even well hung? She couldn’t help these feelings, she just wanted to be blown away by a complete stud sometimes - not just pick up the pieces around a dopey, distracted husband.
The noise came again and this time - as whatever it was left her once more - it warmed Marge from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes, and nowhere more than between her thighs and around her long, thick nipples.
And then she heard Lisa moan, a note of pain in her voice. Marge hurried faster.
/////
Lisa took in another breath as if her sax held the key to life, her neck muscles protesting as she poured everything into it… and as she listened, she heard the glorious sound of the instrument creaking, threatening to collapse into itself and implode.
She didn’t want to go that far… but she did want as much as she could get out of it.
The first pull had been weird: a tooth-rattling, nails-on-a-chalkboard rasp… but it had felt amazing. She had felt like her body was filled with an intense lightning energy, every inch of her seeming to crackle with it. The second one - well, it was full of strong feeling, like she was sucking it out of the air… something about a strong, hung stud, her own feelings of wanting to be better, so much better. But the third time, the third time she felt like she was pulling years of memories and emotions out of the walls.
Her dreams of being a strong, independent woman, Marge’s fantasies of being hammered hard in front of her husband by a stud with a monster cock, Homer’s simple - even wholesome - single-minded desire for his own wife, Maggie’s wonder at the huge people that towered above her, wanting to be a giant like them… and Bart’s horny, desperate quest to get fit and pump, pull, inject or medicate his cock to make it more imposing before he left for college. Strength. Studs. Muscles. Cocks. Powerful women. Fucking Marge. Giants. Growth. Lisa could feel it all… and groaned as she took it all in, wondering why she felt like it was going to cut loose with all the subtlety of a thunderclap.
Fucking Marge? Lisa’s mind raced, her breathing speeding up… her mom?! Wait a sec-
“Lisa!” Marge cried in alarm as she threw open the door and saw her daughter sat on the bed, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Marge was visibly straining her dress with, well, Marge and the top had pulled down a little to expose quite a lot of cleavage. If that wasn’t bad enough, Marge’s thick thighs and ass had caused the dress to ride up, nearly enough to show her knees. Lisa felt something inside her slip, twist… and bloom.
“Mom, you’re so- MMNNGGGHH! WOAH!”
Lisa felt like she was being the opposite of inflated, her skin stretching and sticking to her lithe young muscles as if the whole world was crushing her in a fist… and her body simply did what any strong girl should do. She fought back.
Struggling to her feet, eyes wide and teeth gritted, Lisa staggered over to her mom and hugged her, a late teen growth spurt having put her just about as tall as Marge was in her heels. She could feel her arms go around her mother, feel a bit more tension in her forearms and strength in her fingers than usual but that wasn’t even the start of it really.
“Oh dear! Lisa! What’s wrong? You feel so war-“
“UUUNNGGHHH, YEAH!” Lisa couldn’t help how she felt: tight, tense, hyper aware… and hyper aroused, and it meant her eyes were already rolling in pleasure as her whole upper body suddenly slammed outwards, slapping away the air with a crack and forcing her to react lightning-quick to relax in order to avoid crushing her mother. From slightly skinny teenager to slightly bulky physique competitor was a real change, and she could feel it rippling through her. Biceps the size of lemons were pressed into the sides of Marge’s big, soft tits, forearms that had never held anything heavier than a sax now looked like they could crush bricks, shoulders lifted and spread and grew capped with thick muscle and her modest tits were pushed against her mother’s with all the force of a hydraulic press as two thick pectorals deepened and tightened into ripped muscle shelves. She could even feel her abs pressing against her mom’s flat belly. And she feeling continued downwards.
Her thick, broad lats split the seams at the top of her own dress, her suddenly bigger, tighter, rounder muscular ass smashing backwards to split the seams at her hips even as her powerful thighs split the seams at the hem of the dress. Her shoes cracked and fell off and her calves thickened and raised even as she began to, realising she had grown a couple of inches over her mom’s height.
“Lisa! Oh my god?!” Marge croaked and tried to stand back and see what was going on, but the older woman couldn’t break Lisa’s embrace, and now could barely see over the powerfully muscled shoulders of the girl embracing her. All Marge could really do was look up into the eyes of her daughter and see the strange, wild ideas dancing there.
And then Lisa bared her teeth… there was another thunderclap. Marge could feel the sir moving around them as Lisa suddenly went from muscular to mighty. It was the kind of size and shape that only the biggest guys even got to and she hadn’t just grown in mass, now easily looking down at Marge, her thick neck visibly throbbing with her pulse as she gave her mother a heavy-lidded, lustful gaze. Around them, Lisa’s clothes fluttered to the ground, blasted into tatters by the sudden growth, her necklace barely clinging onto that bull neck now.
Lisa was a stud: huge, ripped, powerful. Her modest tits were clinging on to the outer swells of pecs that McBane couldn’t match, that young body covered in veiny, rippling muscle… and still surrounding Marge in an embrace, their hips pressed tight against each other, Lisa’s stronger, more powerful hands finding and grabbing a handful each of Marge’s asscheeks.
“Oh, LISA! That’s not- I can’t! Your father wou- oh, oooohhh, mmmmnnnhh!”
The last words were sucked into Lisa’s mouth as she bent down and kissed her mother hard, lifting the older woman and dominating her with lips and tongue and sheer sexual hunger…
… and from the rising heat between Lisa’s hands on Marge’s ass, it wasn’t going entirely unappreciated.
Lisa grunted and grabbed the fabric at her mother’s hips, each hand taking a generous fistful before simply yanked her arms up and apart, destroying dress, camisole and panties alike in one unstoppable motion.
“Oh mom,” Lisa moaned, her voice now a little richer, more resonant… commanding, “I always wanted to look up to you as a role model…”
Lisa gripped her mother by the chin and tilted Marge’s face up to meet another hot, forceful kiss, her long tongue dominating Marge’s mouth.
“… mmmnhh, yeah… and I wanted you to be strong… and independent…” Lisa’s words were breathy, hypnotic, almost calming as she slowly murmured then into Marge’s ear, “… you could have been such an amazing inspiration…”
Lisa’s strong, powerful hands had been kneading Marge’s big, thick naked ass, and now the towering girl grinned... Then, with calm, almost arrogant confidence, she slipped two fingers up into her own mother’s pussy and started stroking.
“But all you do is hang around with a loser like dad,” Lisa pushed her fingers hard up into Marge, mashing her knuckles into her mom’s puffy, juicy shaved labia, “… and dream of fucking someone big, and strong and hung…”
Lisa shuddered and from between them there was a nasty, lewd squelch as Lisa’s body tensed.
“Oh no! What’s tha-“ Marge gasped, just before Lisa covered her exclamation with another harsh, demanding kiss, making her mom whimper, hands roaming her daughter’s massive, buffed up body.
Lisa grunted again and Marge wriggled, trying to make room for something huge and heavy which slid between their bodies like a threat crossed with a promise.
“… oh yeah, mom!” Lisa purred, her voice a little richer, more powerful, “You wanted big and strong and… hung? MPPPHHH, oh yeah! Well here I am!”
Lisa leaned back just in time for the tip of a giant, gnarly uber-dick, smashed up between their chests like a piston as it grew, the vast, veiny mass of it visibly throbbing with pure sexual menace and power.
Lisa reached up idly with her other hand and gripped the back of her mother’s head, looking deep into Marge’s wide eyes and open-mouthed expression of lust and bewilderment… before hustling her hips upward and ramming Marge’s face down until the tip of Lisa’s new, terrifying cock mashed past Marge’s straining lips and stuffed those cheeks full of musky, virile cockmeat.
Lisa swore and rolled her eyes, pulling on the back of Marge’s skull while leaning her own head out of the way as Marge’s towering beehive hairdo bumped into her thick traps and massive shoulder muscles over and over again as the older woman - gurgling and gagging - set to work. Dominant, powerful and full of lust, she could feel what her actions were doing to her mother, and tell - with every drip of free-flowing cunt juice of the backs of her knuckles - exactly how aroused Marge was to be sucking on her own daughter’s freshly grown freaky-huge dick.
Marge didn’t even notice when Lisa took her hand away, that blue beehive hairdo never missing a beat as the eager bobbing of Marge’s head bumped it into Lisa’s iron-hard muscles over and over and over again.
Lisa bit her lip and then smirked wickedly as she watched her mom really get into the moment, slobber flying and cute, raspy moans from the older woman punctuating every third or fourth bounce of blue hair on mighty shoulder.
“You’re going so deep mom,” Lisa purred, her voice silken, teasing, “but if you want to get my to, mmmmnhh, CUM - oh wow - all over your face and down your slutty throat, you’ll need to use your hands.”
Marge snuffled some kind of protest at the language her daughter was using, but the sense was obliterated as Marge kept on bulging out her own throat with Lisa’s cockhead over and over again. And then Marge, still encircled by Lisa’s bulging, pumped-up arms, managed to wriggle her arms up between them… and grip Lisa’s massive dick to jack it in time with each bob of sucking, slurping mouth and throat.
Lisa hissed in pleasure, her hard, thick hips hunching and pumping as she began fucking her cock upwards in counterpoint to each of Marge’s desperate attempts to cram more and more throbbing dick into a face now liberally streaked with mascara, spittle and precum.
“Oh yeah mom,” Lisa growled, “when was the last time Homer stuffed your face with this much DICK?!”
Marge shuddered and Lisa felt her mom’s pussy clench around her fingers as the older woman shook and groaned and squirted juices through a devastating climax. From inches away, Lisa got to watch cock-stretched lips tremble as Marge’s eyes rolled up and climax shook her again.
“Such a SLUT… I’m gonna fuck you so hard mom! This is going to SMASH. INTO. YOUR… WOMB!” And with the last word, Lisa pulled Marge’s head down with all the gentleness of a hydraulic press, stuffing length after thick throbbing length deeper and deeper into her mom’s straining throat, massively bulging out Marge’s slender neck. Fake pearls went flying as her mother’s necklace snapped under the assault.
SSSPLLLLUUURRRRGGGG!
A rumble shook the room, making the soles of Marge’s feet tingle even as a bulging surge raced up Lisa’s rampaging cock and slapped into Marge’s digestive tract like the booming clap of a tidal wave.
Marge was moaning like a junkie as she drank and drank and drank, her hands going to grab Lisa’s broad, muscular hips and pull Marge’s head desperately downwards against the flood. Cupfuls almost immediately gave way to pints, pints to quarts and the older woman whuffed and shuddered as the first gallon boiled down towards her belly in great thick chunky clots. She could feel the remaining fabric of her ruined dress pressing back at her as her belly filled - it felt like she was blowing up like a balloon.
As another blast of Lisa’s alpha cum slammed into Marge’s face and thundered down her throat to boost her belly further, she realised that she was inflating, full of hot, heady jizz… even climaxing in sympathy with her daughter’s organs at the same weird moment that scalding hot ball batter got trapped in a back flow and raced down her nose to spatter all over the remains of her quickly disintegrating dress. Lisa’s cum-smell was indelibly imprinted on Marge’s sinuses, a stink that she knew would never fail to set her pussy to gushing from now till the day she died.
SSHHHHRRRIIIPPPP!
Marge’s dress gave up with a raspy fabric scream and she was quickly naked in her daughter’s embrace, choking down the last of a vast deluge of sperm. Lisa’s hands removed the gamely clinging strapless bra Marge was wearing as if it was wrapping tissue around a gift, baring Marge’s boobs with a jiggle - it seemed impossible, but the thundering mega-cock stuffing Marge’s face seemed to grow even harder as Lisa clapped eyes on her mom’s tits, hungrily drinking in every swell and curve.
It wasn’t enough.
A strong hand on Marge’s forehead was enough to push the older woman up and off the cock she was worshipping, the rough exit being immediately followed by a chunky waterfall of almost inhumanly thick cum from gasping mouth and semen-plugged nostrils.
“- but Lisa!” Marge started, then stopped as she saw her towering, thickly cocked daughter take a step back and reach for the slightly deformed mess of recently-abused saxophone.
The sax looked like a toy when held against a figure that dwarfed all but the biggest, buffest men… and did so with a sense of raw power exuding from every swell of throbbing muscle and pulsing vein. And it looked like a different sort of toy as it was lowered to just in front of Lisa’s cum-glazed cockhead and Marge’s newly giant alpha muscle dickgirl daughter began pumping her terrifyingly large shaft with her free hand.
“Jack me off, slut,” Lisa commanded with sultry heat as she set to her task, and it was like Marge was pulled towards her daughter again like a magnet.
The older woman’s bulging, taut-looking cum-gut threw her balance off as she tottered over, kicking off one of her shoes, grabbing Lisa’s cock in order to stay upright… and barely moving that beast of a cock more than a few hair’s breadth as it took her weight.
Marge threw everything at the task, mystified and afraid that somehow she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t sexy enough for this prime piece of virile girl-beef. Her soft tits mashed into the taut skin of straining crotch-meat even as her hands and mouth travelled up and down faster and faster as she feverishly worshipped at this unholy altar.
“Fuck, mom… oh- oh YEAH! Fucking jack me harder, slut. You want this cock…” Lisa was nearly chanting as her hips began pushing back and forth for even more stimulation, “… so hungry for this cock you’ll make yourself into the perfect whore…”
It was filth, degrading nonsense - about dick-sucking lips and, stripper tits and getting so knocked up that getting through doors would be impossible - it was about addiction to Lisa’s unmatched body and Lisa’s tireless, mammoth dong. And it went on and on like a hypnosis tape delivered straight to the shivering, pleasure-soaked orgasmic centres of Marge’s soul.
“… and when you’re on your hands and knees popping out the tenth huge-dicked muscular baby girl, you’ll still be holding the head of some slut at the base of my dick as I prep them for another fucking breeding!”
And inside Marge’s gasping, panting, licking, sucking head… these thoughts coalesced and ran together in a sugary sundae of sexual desire.
/////
It was some number of hot, sweaty, grunting, jacking minutes later and Marge was trying to cram one of her big, thick nipples in her daughter’s winking cumslit… when Lisa grunted, and tensed, and rammed the open bell of her saxophone over the tip of her cock, a strong thumb over the hole where the mouthpiece should have been.
GOOOOSHRRRRNNKKK!
The noise was crazy, terrifying, and Marge took an involuntary step back as she saw the instrument heave before her very eyes. Dents and dings of years popped out in instants, valves flung open by the sheer pressure of jizz being forced into the sax-cum-sprinkler. But the frightening part was watching the instrument swell, brass growing thinner and shinier as even the pressure release of the valve holes wasn’t enough to keep up with the deluge.
The instrument might have held a quart or two if it had been watertight normally… but this was insane, two gallons of Lisa’s ultra-virile baby batter deforming metal and making it hold more and more volume.
Precarious, dangerous, on the edge, for Marge, it felt like looking at a bomb - waiting for the last few blasts of cum to overpower it and send shards of spinning brass around the room like shrapnel.
But the flow stopped and Lisa’s cock head - still hard, throbbing and ready to go - was pulled free of the saxophone’s former sound hole with a musky slosh of captured cumshot.
Lisa’s massive arm was steady as a rock, holding nearly 35 pounds of stinking cum at full extension… and there was even less give in Lisa’s expression as she turned to face Marge, removing her thumb from the mouthpiece opening.
Marge looked up at her daughter as the feminine Adonis pushed the instrument at her mother and issued one simple instruction.
“Hey mom, you fucking cock-hungry slut… it’s your turn to SUCK.”
/////
Marge brought the cum-encrusted, creaking wreck of an instrument to her mouth and looked up at Lisa.
Her daughter. Marge’s brain fizzed… not her daugher, her STUD. Her big-cocked bitch-breaking brawny baby-daddy-to-be.
Not nerdy and concerned and bookish and lovably, naively optimistic - not any more.
Tall and broad, like an amazon princess made brutal and harsh and powerful on cocktail of steroids and pure lust. Lisa’s pecs were twitching as she idly shafted the living abomination that was the mother of all cocks, and the chest beef was thick, veiny and rippling with power as pecs flexed on every stroke - Lisa’s tits were perky afterthoughts to great blocks of pumping brawn.
Lisa’s neck was thick and deep, garlanded by a tracery of thick arteries and mighty muscle, buried in a mountain range of towering trapezius muscle that threatened to smash into a stronger, squarer jaw - not mannish, or rough, but a bulwark of feminine power.
And Lisa’s eyes were locked on Marge, and Marge could see herself in them - sweaty, cum-slicked, desperate and stuffed full of enough cum to make her look pregnant. Lisa’s expression was intent, expectant, but she didn’t seem inclined to say anything more – a stud like her didn’t need to beg.
Marge shivered as she realised that Lisa had given her an instruction… and Lisa wasn’t going to repeat herself.
Marge lifted the heavy, sloshing sax… and SUCKED.
And there was more than cum in there… as she sucked, she felt the swirling mass of lust and frustration and eager power in the room rush in after the hot, stinking cum racing down her throat to sit heavily in her already-swollen, aching belly.
The desire to breed some hot bimbo Barbie bitch, to feel lips so pumped and full around a fat cock that it felt like they could suck out your soul, the need to feel big fake tits battering churning, cum-stuffed balls with every upward, titfucking thrust… the need to savagely blow out a straining puffy asshole even as the pussy underneath squeezed out a hugely developed futa Uber-baby… it all rushed in. It was Lisa - Lisa’s lusts really - that dominated the room even as Lisa’s body dominated the space she was in… and in those lusts Marge saw herself.
She liked what she saw. She wanted it. She wanted more.
So much MORE.
So she sucked harder.
She needed to be built to be ruined. A flat tight bimbo belly to better show her mistress the outline of that cock as it smashed into Marge’s womb. Big, strong thighs to bounce, bounce, bounce up and down a cock that would make a mare worry, over and over again until her guts were painted white in a tidal wave of seed and her ass was destroyed. Huge, improbably round and heavy fake tits to stroke across, smash against or simply wrap around the same cock that would give her a baby bump so big those same tits would be nearly permanently mashed into her face whenever she sat down. Massive, pumped up, pouting lips that would vacuum seal around any cock in her mouth and make it blast cum so hard it would smash its way up her nose and bathe her cum-addled brain. The kind of cunt that was puffy, engorged, tight and succulent, a moist pout every bit as inviting as the one on her face, designed to be fucked open wide and left to gape lewdly and bare a hungry cervix; the kind of cum-drooling inner gateway that would shiver at a stray gust of cold outside air even as it greedily trapped a hundred pounds of baby-making ball brew inside a quivering, bitch-womb swimming with eggs under virile assault.
She didn’t even notice the vast swell of her tits lifting the sax higher and higher, forcing her head higher and backwards, her enormous lips pumping up and down the neck of the instrument in a lewd echo of what she wanted to do…
… so she sucked HARDER.
For a moment, she thought she could hear the voice of Bleeding Gums echo through the increasingly elemental sexual soup her mind was becoming:
“Ah, nuts… I think the only blues I’m going to hear today is from my poor, dead balls… holy shi-“
As new thoughts raced into her mind, of tattoos and piercings and finger fucking her nipples or smashing a cock through her ear and into her brain, Marge shuddered, trapped in a recursive feedback loop of more and more and more lustful madness. She felt like she was drowning… losing herself. She was just a woman.
Just… one… woman. Just a cum-hungry bimbo momma who needed her hung daughter’s incest babies.
Marge sucked and with a wail of protesting brass, the brutalised saxophone followed the fate of so many pints of hot, funky jizz and seemed to liquify before being sucked into Marge’s desperately drinking mouth.
Pain wracked her body and she shook as some strange alchemy went to work inside her, feeling a hundred stinging points of pain and pleasure as her delirious visions became real.
The problem was that she was just one woman… and Lisa didn’t just need Marge, she needed an army of sluts, a nation of them, to satisfy that godly cock and give her daughter the teeming brood of built baby dickgirls that would take over the world. Lisa needed an instrument… and Marge-
Well - she reflected as a brass piercing seemed to erupt from the hood of her clit and crown the thrumming, bloated pleasure button with a gleaming, jiggling bar which newly long-nailed fingers strummed frantically as orgasm crashed over here - Marge WAS the instrument now.
/////
Outside, lightning lanced down out of a clear sky as the world was warped by a force outside of nature… but that was an afterthought to Lisa.
Because her mom was in the room. And now, any room with Marge in it, was a room in which there would be hot, unending, tireless fucking.
Some echo of the anxious, caring, occasionally flirty middle-aged woman was there, but it was all but drowned out by an aura that screamed sex. Marge’s body was some elaborate confection between cross-fit tone, turbo-bimbo sexual promise and six plastic surgeons-worth of silicone, saline, Botox and hormone treatments. Marge’s body wasn’t like some dumpy, fat tribal fertility offering - it was a toned, sports-car-curvy aggressive threat of more hard fucking than a normal human heart could handle, let alone normal human balls. And, it made sense… it seemed like Marge had absorbed every pound of virile, potent sex juice into her body during the changes… like some lewd kind of fuel.
Gone were the pearl earrings, replaced by great shiny brass hooker-hoops which went from collarbone to earlobe. A brass stud piecing beneath collagen-pumped dick-sucking lips large enough to dominate the face that bore them, taking up nearly all the space between nostrils and chin and projecting out further than the tip of this new Marge’s nose, all slathered in glossy, shining dark blue-purple lipstick. Another pair of bright brass studs bracketed the bridge of Marge’s nose, gleaming between large, hungry eyes drinking Lisa in from beneath heavy eyelids sultrily lowered and caked in makeup, seemingly weighed down by impossible long dark lashes.
Marge raised hands covered in long, brassy fake nails like claws, seizing Lisa’s cock like prey as the transformed older woman stepped across and simply opened her mouth and rammed her face down Lisa’s immense meat.
And down. And even further down.
The changes weren’t just external as Lisa felt the throat of legends working every inch of her shaft as Marge dived deeper, the older woman bending like a teenage gymnast, legs spread and straight…
… and like the sunrise Lisa’s eyes drank in the increasing impossibility of Marge’s insane bubble butt rising, the twin smooth, toned spheres only serving to frame the huge, puffy, hungry-looking cunt that swelled out like a bloated meaty flower from between where astonishing, killer ass met thighs that looked like they were built for riding cock and crushing ribcages.
With a sneer, Lisa reached down and rammed two strong fingers into Marge’s upturned ass, the motion kickstarting a bobbing, drooling, sucking chain reaction as Marge began to move up and down Lisa’s monster cock.
Clap… ka-clap… ka-clap…
The sound was quiet and syncopated and unexpected, but it stirred Lisa’s bulging balls as something primal in her detected a lewdness. In the rhythm. Lisa looked down at her mom, fingering the older woman’s ass hard and watching her guzzle cock, feeling Marge’s stomach stretch around her bitchbreaker on every moaning ride of that incredible whore throat, all the way to Lisa’s root. Lisa still couldn’t-
Then Marge shifted, speeding up, and the rhythm changed:
Ka-ka-clap… KA-KA-CLAP, KA-KA-CLAP, KA-KA-CLAP!
Lisa groaned as she felt her knuckles get splashed with juices now, the bulging labia of her mom’s giant turbo cunt flinging pussy drool and squirt up Lisa’s arm every time they slapped into each other on the downstroke. And the accompanying thumps of flesh into flesh were separated now: two impacts on Marge’s cock-stuffed neck every time that breeding bimbo body changed direction. Lisa smiled and reached down to grip her heavy balls, a simple squeeze - mighty forearms bulging - enough to set her off.
GOOOSSHHH!
Marge was thrown back, toned legs bending, back muscles squirming as the older woman’s whole torso was given up to hauling cum out of Lisa’s main vein and down into a quickly bloating belly.
Marge coughed and staggered, eyelids fluttering in delight, resisting even as Lisa raised a hand and pushed her mom off the giant throbbing log of dick ruining the bluenette’s throat. But when Marge stood up, idly massaging a few cupfuls of chunky cum and a few more of her slobbery throat grease into the giant, spherical fake tits - that covered the older woman’s slender torso from nearly up to her shoulders and swung massive and heavy down to Marge’s belly button - Lisa could see the twin red marks on the spit-shined upper slopes where those giant stripper tits had smashed into Marge’s abused neck over and over again. Those tits were a potent, crazily sexual war crime: unavoidable, pant-tenting chaos and uncontrolled lusts triggered at just a glance and to Lisa they were perfect.
Unnatural, high, fake and covered in the kind of veins that screamed saline addiction and the hard press of implant against stretchy breast flesh. The nipples were incongruous though, not the hard-stretched fatted nubs of ultra large fake tits but big, thick, succulent, fat crinkled teats that were big enough to look like a pair of cocks and each pierced with a brassy barbell piercing that looked like you could moor boats to them. Lisa could even make out the familiar swirl of patina in the metal that had used to be in her saxophone.
Lisa could feel her lips moisten at the sight. And the ones on her face, too.
Lisa looked at her mom’s hungry, fucked-out expression, at the mess of drool and cum dripping from a chin grown sharper, a bit more defined, a bit more provocative… and lips that looked like they were made to be slathered in jizz.
In a stride, Lisa crossed the space between them, nearly dropping into a linebacker’s crouch as she powered forward with her hips, feeling her slut’s lower lips part to lewdly french her mighty cockhead… and then drove her cock hard upwards.
There was a sound like someone dragging a softball out of a huge bucket of vaseline, but lewd and loud and disgustingly sexy as that sound was, it was nothing compared to Marge’s cry of, “OH LISA!”
The old Marge would have been high and shrill and croaky - this apparition of piercings and carnal visual excess made a sound that could have come out of a champion wrestler, a deep groan of pleasure in a voice that sounded like she smoked a hundred cigarette’s a day. It was an animal noise.
/////
There were no more words; no human could take over two feet of dick in a single heartbeat, have their cervix smashed wide open and their womb pushed up and over their rib cage, slammed between heaving giant fake tits… and think.
Marge’s hungry, massive cunt jetted juices as the older woman shook and shuddered, her brass-tipped toenails tapping on the bedroom floor without rhythm as nerve endings fought to shove as much pleasure from her pussy around her body as possible before it burnt out her brain.
Marge was lost in sensation, feeling her body wracked with climax after climax, her muscles feeling tired, turning to goo as she came and came and came, howling Lisa’s name. A brush of a fingertip across Lisa’s heaving, vascular pec - orgasm. A massive fake tit smashing into an ovary pressed hard against straining belly flesh by the titanic cock inside Marge - orgasm. The tip of Marge’s long, lolling tongue accidentally tickling the rim of her nostril - orgasm.
Marge could only see the dark red glow of the inside of her own head, eyes rolled up. There was a sound like the beat at a night club, some groovy disco funk, but it was inside her, the sound her own heartbeat made against Lisa’s cock’s throbbing rhythm.
Two strong hands gripped Marge’s pneumatic ass, taking great palmfuls of perfect toned glutes she’d have killed for only this morning - there was another pair of climaxes and the feeling of a hand being removed was only matched by a finger hooking into her mouth to fish out the tongue she was about to swallow.
And then Lisa started fucking her hard: huge long outstrokes that felt like her pussy was going to be pulled out after the giant cock filling her up, followed up by brutal, hard, punishing thrusts that ended in the meaty WHACK! of grossly swollen girl-balls crashing into Marge’s thighs and backside. Marge couldn’t breathe, could even tell which way was up. Her eyes might have been open, but she couldn’t see a thing.
Two fingers shot into her asshole, joined by a third, then a fourth and all of those morphed into a lewdly punching, probing fist, wearing her ringpiece like a bracelet as Lisa’s massive forearm showed in and out of her against the savage beat of the fucking.
“HHHRRRKKKK! GNNHHFFFKK! MMMNNNGHHH!” Marge wasn’t breathing anymore, but her body was desperately trying to suck in air, the lungs the oxygen wanted to rush into shaken and battered and smashed flat by the action of the godly cock that was deleting old Marge with every thrust.
Dimly, as pleasure ramped up and up - lack of oxygen giving Marge a high sweeter than any drug - she could feel the hands leave her ass and grab the massive beachball-sized immensity of one of her bouncing, face-slapping, improbable tits…
… and then Lisa’s mouth, hot warm and maybe a foot or two away on the other side of a boob that would shame even the biggest chests - or perhaps a thousand miles away for all Marge could figure out - found Marge’s saxophone-brass-pierced nipple…
… and SUCKED.
/////
Lisa took it all in. The gush of some proto-milk Marge’s huge tits were forced to give up to the fiercely sucking power of Lisa’s thick chest and bull neck. The way the suction pulled the long, thick, breast-topping nub deep into Lisa’s mouth, hard nipple flesh being pushed into Lisa’s powerful throat.
And that was nothing compared to the wild tide of desires in the room, in the house… in the entire neighbourhood as Lisa sucked and sucked and sucked on the magical confection that was her mother’s body, melded with the familiar brassy accoutrements which were all that remained of that old sax.
“Uh, Lisa,” Bleeding Gums’ voice echoed through the higher realms, “maybe you should pull out before-“
Lisa grunted and SUCKED harder - reaching up with both hands, she snaked her palms up Marge’s back until her fingers were hooked over Marge’s shoulders like a chin-up position.
The world grew slowly, steadily smaller as she rose and rose and rose…
… and Marge - spasming like a landed fish - rose with her, long brassy nails clapped around a cock-stuffed middle that was growing bigger even faster than the rest of Lisa was.
Marge wasn’t her mom anymore. Marge was a fucking flesh-light made real.
Lisa’s mighty hand around her mom’s slender neck was enough to yank the older woman’s body up and down the two thirds of Lisa’s giant cock that would fit now, with a rhythmic ferocity even a reciprocating saw couldn’t match.
Lisa’s body was easily every bit of eight feet tall now and must have weighed the better part of a ton, rippling muscles and veins and simply massive proportions combining together to make a musclehead into a monster. An arm bigger than Marge was nearly hid her mother as the towering blue beehive whipped back and forth with every thrust.
The only thing more intense than Lisa’s mass in the small room was the rumbling, gushing stink of sex as Marge’s ultra-cunt hosed Lisa down over and over again with pressurised jets of glit that erupted between the incredibly tight seal of meaty pussy lips stretched around a cock that could fuck an ancient redwood tree in half.
“Huh?! Wha- M-M-Marge?!”
The voice was completely incongruous: silly, dopey and slow. Lisa’s head snapped around to see the interloper and there was Homer, stood stupidly in the doorway to her room, flinching as the force of the breeding she was putting on Marge cracked the plaster and chunks rained down at him from the ceiling. Lisa licked her lips as she took a step and turned, the side profile Homer had of her having accidentally minimised the situation she found herself in.
As she turned, her mighty thighs bunched and flexed, more meat in one leg than in his whole body - and she knew she must nearly look as if she was expanding. She was certainly blocking out the light from the window as she squared up to him, only pausing to rotate a screaming, cumming, wailing Marge on her titanic cock like a pig on a spit. She spun the older woman until the happily whorish travesty of a slut Marge had been made into was fully visible to her husband, giant tits clapping from dick-packed belly to fucked-out face hard enough to leave hundreds of massive purple lipstick prints on those shiny fake boobs.
“Yeah, DAD!” Lisa groaned, “She’s finally found something- NNNNHHHGGGG! -something amazing to do with her life! MEEEE!!”
And there, in the doorway six or seven feet away, Homer stood like he’d been tasered, unmoving and unable to look away, his cock making a small tent in his stretched out slacks.
“YEAH! YEAH! FUCK YEAH! FUCKING-FU- TAAAKKKKEEE ITTT!” Lisa roared as the two giant nuts swinging between her legs leapt up - briefly making it look like Marge had four giant tits - before a sound like a dam opening filled the room and the deluge game.
GGGGGRRRRRGGGGGGGGLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOSSSSSHHHHHHH!!!
Marge’s howl was like a reservoir siren as she crashed over into some new place of crazed sensation, but the only emergency was someone’s world being turned upside down.
With a great bellow as gallons of cum rushed up her cock, Lisa shook and held her mom’s grossly stretched body by the ankles, pulling the older woman back until toned fuckdoll hips met brutally built alpha female muscle gut.
Marge’s belly flesh surged outwards like a great yellow wall, thundering across the floor and smashing forward ten feet in a matter of heartbeats, leaving Marge a shuddering, cumming afterthought to the biggest volume of hyper-fertile jizz medical science had ever seen…
… and as Marge drooled and climaxed and shook, feeling ovum after ovum forcefully mated, neither she nor Lisa saw Homer picked up by the vast swell of jizz-gut and pitched down the stairs in a set of banging, crashing tumbles.
Amid the moans, and the panting for air, and the wondering groping of strong hands on still-incredible ass muscles both women looked up as they heard something crash downstairs and a single, disbelieving, “D’oh!”
/////
The sun was out and Flanders was cheerfully mowing the lawn as Lisa leaned against the window frame and looked out across their front yard. Her ridiculously brawny arm made it seem like the big bay window belonged to a doll’s house as she leaned out and craned her neck to look at the man over her massive, bulging shoulder muscles.
Below the window, inside, there was the sound of wet, sweating, panting effort.
“Hi-diddly-ho Lisa!” Flanders called out cheerfully as his last mowing pass took him as close as he had been so far, “I’m sorry to bother a, uh, growing girl like yourself, but I was talking to Reverend Lovejoy and he was in quite the tizzy about his wife, Helen!”
Flanders straightened and clicked something in his back with an apologetic little chuckle and the lawnmower burbled away in idle, “I normally wouldn’t ask, but you seem to know who’s coming and going - I wondered if you’d seen her?”
Lisa didn’t look down as she reached down with her other hand and gently curled her fingers through Helen Lovejoy’s jizz-matted brunette locks, from where the older woman had her face mashed into Marge’s drooling cunt, overshadowed by the vast dome of Lisa’s mom’s hugely pregnant belly.
Lisa took her hand off the window sill and brought a finger to her lips, as if in thought, her mighty biceps casually obliterating the sleeve of her drum-tight t-shirt. Ned swallowed and she saw him shuffle backwards just a little.
“I don’t know, Mr. Flanders….” she said innocently, maintaining eye contact as, hidden by the wall beneath the window sill, she pushed her massively powerful hips forward and Marge’s fucked out, cum-drooling turbo pussy began spreading around Helen’s head.
There was a squawk as the crazily cock-stuffed, naked, cum-glazed and sweating Helen Lovejoy turned a panicked gaze at the giant girl currently ignoring her and cried, “Lisa! Won’t you think about our childr-” before Helen’s head disappeared up into Marge’s cunt with a muffled glorp, high pitched moans emanating from Marge’s cranium-stuffed pussy as Lisa set a slow, insistent rhythm up again.
“… I’ll let you know when I’m finished- sorry, when I’ve found her. I haven’t seen her face around here for a little while - she might just be busy doing things in my mom this afternoon.”
She saw him frown a little bit, shake his head, and then reach down cut the motor on his lawnmower, “Wait a ding dong diddly second there neighborina! Did you just say ‘with’, or ‘in’?
Lisa just smiled and, in a move that was terrifyingly brutal from the waist down, slammed Helen’s head deep enough into her gagged, moaning mom’s pregnant body that the slim pastor’s wife went into Marge’s pussy past the tops of her shoulders amid a shower of feminine juices.
“I’m sure I said what I meant, Mr. Flanders, it must have been the noise from the lawnmower,” Lisa offered with a little smile…
...and then she licked her lips hungrily and asked, “Is Mrs. Krabappel - sorry Ned, I meant to say the new Mrs. Flanders! - at ho-diddly-ome today?”