To Live and Uplift Underground 13


Even when immigrating, it wouldn’t do for the leaders of a gang to shiver in their tents like the least drow elf. Never mind that no one was selfless enough for it given the choice, not being able to pull your weight to have nice things outright puts into doubt your ability as a leader. Of the things a leader could have, comfort was as palpable an icon of power as any iron sword was.


Admittedly, on these grand gang movements, geography dictated much. The whole gang moved until my mother found an area that directly suited her and everyone else made do with what was around it. This time, Aunt Kan’a’s crew had settled on an area with a few deep depressions on the walls that could, with some effort, be enclosed with furs and tapestries. Thus, Aunt Kan’a got to rest in a cave of her own.


Aunt Talia wasn’t so lucky.


Being the vanguard is a huge responsibility that comes with few upsides. Unlike the other crews, the vanguard couldn’t haggle for the best spot; they had to, by necessity, be the last ones on the back. They couldn’t benefit much from the ablative heat bubbles that the rest of the gang generated for the same reason, though at least in this regard, they were theoretically on the same footing as my mother. As the Gang chief, she was on the other end of the gang train leading and all that. And, lastly, the vanguard were usually the last group to get their food from the gang stores when that was being divvied out.


But as much as it sucked, someone had to be the vanguard. So just like skirmishing, it was a position that was rotated between all four crews. At any one time, someone had to shiver in the back of the gang.


But even then, but even then, the Crew lead had to do so in style.


Poor as Outskirt Drow were, you might not think much of what we considered “style”. But our leads still managed to stand out.


For me, even with my past life memories to call from, the large tent in the middle of the large tunnel towering over multiple other lesser tents screamed “affluence” to me. Through this new life of mine, that is what it had always meant.


It was staked to the ground as an overworld tent would be, and it had frames of fungus wood to keep it upright like a mixture of a teepee and a yurt. A steady smoke bellowed from its top- it was a very oily smoke, indicating that roots that had not been dried, “raw” roots, were the ones being burnt- but that was still more than any other tent was benefiting from.


Fur and skins composed its walls and, upon arriving at our new home caves, I knew that the crew lead’s tents would be the ones used to block their entrances. But, for now, while we were on the move, they were repurposed for the higher goal of keeping our leaders warm.


Which, when I stepped foot inside my aunt’s abode, served to keep me warm. After having walked through the dire temperatures of the night, I could not bring myself to be judgmental at all about this display of privilege.


Not only were the walls of the tent fur, not only was a small fire that did away with the need for my dark vision blazing away in hearth on a corner, not only was the floor itself covered with fungus fibre carpets, but there were piles of actual cotton sheets stacked upon themselves near the small fire.


A female figure was sitting on this stack.


“Hmm, you know,” a smokey voice that I had heard many times, from a face that I had seen all the time, but always directed at my cousin and never at me. Until now, “I wondered what boy would be daft enough to make their way amid the full chill of the night.”


The figure breathed out, and her breath came out like smoke. Not because it was cold inside the tent, but because I was shaking off my dark vision. While it lasted, I could see the lucid warmth of her body.


“I should have known that it was surprising enough to be little Jarn’at’s boy. Everyone is talking about you, you know that, yes?”


Even through the respite of the tent’s warmth, even with being assaulted by the warm scent of this woman that permeated every single inch of this tent, I recall pausing at that.


“Everyone is talking about me?” I asked.


It was true that I wanted to be renowned for my work, but I had always known that renown was a hard thing to get by. Fame, even in the underground, was a fleeting thing that required constant reinforcement. At the very least, I did not feel like I had done enough yet.


“That copper axe of ‘younger me’,” the figure in the blankets smiled, and the white enamel of her teeth shone with the light of the hearth, “Is enough to get the young blood yapping.”


I nodded at that.


“Although, don’t misunderstand, I am not implying that us old ladies don’t find it impressive too,” she said, “It’s just that, for us, finding that our sons and nephews are avoiding being burdens, all of a sudden, is roughly as astounding as waking up and finding the night warm.”


“The knife-clubs,” I unwittingly muttered.


“Yeees,” her smile turned into a smirk, “That new thing.”


“Oh, but you don’t have to stay near the entrance,” she extended a hand and her fingers quirked towards her, beckoning, “Come, sit in front of me. It wouldn’t do for you to have braved the chill to talk to me and be uncomfortable through this, too.”


“...thank you,” I inclined my head and took a step into my aunt’s den.


My introduction had turned out to be long enough for me to acclimate to this level of light.


And for me to see my aunt as she was.


Though Younger Talia bore the same name as her grandmother, it was Jarn’at whom Older Talia looked the most like.


But I could still see where both of them got it from.


Aunt Talia wore a light, almost see-through robe whose upper cleavage revealed tits that were every bit as huge as her granddaughter’s were. But, unlike her, Aunt Talia’s hips and ass were those that Jarn’at had. Pregnancies, however, had left their mark and her hips were wider still because of them. Her midriff, because her robe was clasped at her chest but opened up as it went down her body, had a multitude of scars running through it, but none looked to be stretch marks.


She had more gut wounds than one of the “mothers” of the gang realistically should have had.


Even still, her thighs were fleshy, and her shoulders were dense, defined things. It was a dancer’s body, if the word “matronly” could have been applied to it.


And those lips of hers, utterly black in a way that none of her children had inherited, though I had always assumed were just some type of Drow lipstick, contrasted against her teeth even here, in the surety of her home, in the middle of the night, where she need not have bothered putting any.


The steel of her gaze, and the towering confidence that she displayed, should have, normally would have, had me nerves on edge. But I had spent long years with Jarn’at when she was trying to prove herself to Talia, and that familiarity robbed me of much of the fear that I should have had for her.


Alas, I was too ignorant of myself to enjoy it when I had the chance, I suppose.


“Now, young Arione,” she said as I sat across from her. Even without the cushions that her ass was lying on top of, I could see that she was taller than me. As tall as Jarn’at was, “I did not summon you, and your crew leader would not have sent you, of all the males that she could have sent, to deliver messages to me.”


“You’d be surprised,” I drily said.


“Oh?” her eyes shone, hunger glowing inside of them.


“Are you having problems with her crew?”


That hunger in her eyes was something I had never seen before. At least, never aimed at me. 


It was enough to make my long ears feel hot as I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to answer.


“Grandma!” but someone burst into her tent and interrupted me, “Is it true? Is Arione-hah!”


Covered head to toe in thick furs and fabrics, Younger Talia blinked as she got used to the light of the flames in Talia’s hearth.


Some of the frost fell off her eyebrows as her eyes locked in on me.


And a wide smile sprouted on her face, “You see, grandmother? You see?”


“I told you I’d make this boy mine!”


Older Talia shot her granddaughter a blank look even as the younger girl didn’t wait for her leave to take off her boots and start walking into the tent.


But the surprises weren’t over yet.


“Mom?” the voice of the girl who made me feel so many, many things came from outside and the next moment Jarn’at was also coming in, “I heard Arione came. Did you-”


She stopped and frowned when she saw that Younger Talia was already there.


But she smiled with relief when her eyes locked in on me.


Eyes that I had last seen this close when I had been enveloped in her warmth, and had my first time taken by her.


“So,” she said, ignoring our cousin and her mother, “You finally came back, huh?”


“Yes,” Younger Talia bristled at seeing Jarn’at there, “Because of me!”


Jarn’at stopped matching gazes with me to shoot her an annoyed look, “Is that why I had to tell everyone about who made your axe?”


“Oh, you think that’s enough to steal him from me?” Younger Talia growled, “We can settle things nice and fast, here and now, if you really rather-”


“Girls,” said a deeply exasperated and deeply annoyed voice.


It was rather amazing to see both of my cousins forget whose home they had barged into.


“My deepest apologies, mama,” Jarn’at bowed, the picture of honourable regret.


“I am sorry, gran-gran,” Younger Talia instead made herself small and looked away, the picture of a precocious kid trying to string heart-strings.


“...this is why you shouldn’t spoil your family too much, Arione,” Older Talia confided in me, “They push when they should be begging.”


“We beg your favor!” they both raced to say.


“Of course you do,” Older Talia sighed, “But, of course, what sort of matriarch would I be if I didn’t correct you?”


“Let’s see, since you are both fighting over a bloody male, of all things..” she rubbed her chin as she looked at me with consideration before she stopped, “Say, Arione, my tent is very warm.”


“And those clothes look very hot. How about you make yourself more comfortable?”


Jarn’at, Younger Talia and I stared at my Aunt, but though it was phrased as a suggestion, I knew a command when I heard it.


“S-sure thing, Aunt Talia,” I said and undid the fasteners of my layers of tunics. In no time was I slipping my bare arms out of their sleeves.


And in no time was I only sitting with a loincloth to protect my chastity in front of my cousins and aunt.


“Hmm,” Aunt Talia mused as she eyed me, making me feel self-conscious, “Not half bad, for someone your age. Not much muscle to caress, but, hah-”


She reached out to my arms and grabbed me by the forearms, “-you work with your hands, do you not?”


She splayed my palms up so that she could see them in the low light.


The callouses that I had developed in the last few months were there for everyone in the tent to see.


“Let me feel them,” she put my hands on her cheeks.


And made me run them up and down her face.


“G-granmama,” Younger Talia piped up. And, with that, my hands stopped.


“What?” Aunt Talia very deliberately asked her granddaughter as her hands forced mine to continue, “Do you have a problem with what I am doing, dear?”


“Ihmm-n-no,” the younger girl, in the end, looked away again.


“What about you, honey?” she asked Jarn’at as she made my hands travel down her neck.


I felt her smooth, soft skin until I got to her shoulders and noticed the scars there. But not for too long.


Aunt Talia made my hands slide directly into the inside of her robe.


Into where her tits were.


Jarn’at clenched her teeth at the sight as her mother made me rub Aunt Talia’s breasts. Despite the disciplinary nature of it, I felt my aunt’s nipples get erect in my hands, and I noticed her breathing get just a bit quicker.


“..no,” Jarn’at ended up saying just in time for Aunt Talia to kick her head back and give out a pleased, little laugh.


“Well then, if neither of you minds,” she grabbed a hold of her robe.


And then took it off as she advanced on me, her naked body making me lie down, “-I think I’ll try and see what you both are fighting over.”


The nipples in front of me were black.


The pussy lips rubbing on my leg were also black.


The smiling, bewitching lips on Aunt Talia’s face were also black.


She had not been wearing lipstick.


She had never worn lipstick.


“Who knows,” she said with a smirk as she took my hard cock-and when had I gotten erect?- and aligned it with her cunt, “Maybe I’ll keep him, after this~”


Tight.


Despite more pregnancies than I knew about, Aunt Talia was tight.


She pushed herself into me and made me rub her pussy walls with my dick.


“Oh, yes, definitely satisfactory,” Aunt Talia freely moaned as her eyes left my face and stared at her daughter and granddaughter, “A real male, this one.”


Her pussy lips made the base of my cock moist, wetting my pubic hair with her female arousal.  She made me go deep inside of her and, upon tickling the glans of my pecker with what I could only assume was her cervix, she swayed into and out of me.


Like a boat at sea, she made an oval shape with her hips as she made our genitals slap.


“What a good boy,” she caressed my face in front of the two girls fighting over me, “What a nice, obedient boy.”


The breasts in front of me swung with her motion.


And the great hips that covered mine were tantalisingly there.


So I almost whined when she stopped and sat back in her cushion of blankets, “But, alas, I am not the young warrior I used to be. Cold nights like this make me feel every single one of my scars. How about you finish it-”


In the end, I didn’t whine because she was spreading her legs and beckoning me into them, “-dear Arione?”


Conscious of the pair of eyes on my back, I found that I had no choice.


I lined my cock with her soppy pussy.


And impaled her as I lay on top of her.


“Ah, theeeere we go,” she moaned and, this time, it wasn’t for show, “the young ones really do have an eagerness that experience just can’t replicate.”


I had my arms encircling her waist, my hands grabbing onto her ass cheeks tightly as my cheeks rested on top of her generous tits.


It was the most comfortable platform that I had lain on in this life.


“So,” she said as I hammered into her cunt, the smell of our fluids starting to flood the tent, “Do I need to say anything? Am I to come up with some other type of punishment?”


She stared at my cousins as my pace quickened and I started hammering her hard.


“Do you understand?”


Despite the fact that her arms had gone over my shoulders and that she was pressing me into her warm breasts even as I started feeling that familiar pressure in my crotch, I had been relegated to secondary in importance.


This was not about me. It was about Jarn’at and Younger Talia.


I was merely the tool, the quickly thrusting, fucking and mating tool to punish them.


I was, in this case, in a very literal sense, nothing more than an object!


“I am coming!” I moaned as my testicles clenched and I couldn’t help it anymore.


“Hmm, fine,” my aunt groaned as her hand came over my ass.


And pressed me deep inside of her.


“Ooooooh FUCK!” I shot load after load into the milf that had always ignored my existance as merely an extension of Jarn’at’s before. As the sister of my mother allowed me to seed her.


“There, there,” she shook a bit as she relished her own orgasm with significantly more grace, “Might as well give you a chance at being a father.”


Oh, if I weren’t already blasting THOSE words alone would have done it!


However, I was at the end of my wick and, with tortured groan, I shot the last of jizz into her.


And then collapsed into her comfy tits.


“Aaah, it really has been a while,” my Aunt also sighed with relief as her own orgasm ended. However, rather then lie back and enjoy the afterglow like I was, her eyes sharpened again and looked at her daughters.


“Well?”


In the end, I heard Jarn’at hiss, “I…understand.”


And I heard Younger Talia choke, “As…as do I.”


“Good, good,” my Aunt said and she gently pushed me off of her.


I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling as that post-nut clarity came over me.


I had just-


In front of-


Oh, no.


I tilted my head to see Jarn’at glaring at us with impotent anger and Younger Talia stared at her mother with bitterness.


“I don’t mind you fighting over toys, girls,” Aunt Talia told them, “But I do mind you forgetting yourselves.”


“However, since I know how much of my stubbornness you’ve inherited,” she chuckled, “I think it would be best if I helped you settle it.”


“Y-you have?” It wasn’t the girls that blurted that out.


It was me.


“You came here to join my crew, did you not?” Aunt Talia, gloriously naked, my cum leaking out of her pussy as she was, stretched and lounged with amusement.


“I…did,” I said even as desire and arousal wanted to take over again.


But, no, those were feelings that were far too dangerous to feel at that moment.


“Given all that’s happened, that old bint Kan’a is never going to let you go without a fight,” Aunt Talia said with a dark chuckle, “So we’ll take you without a fight.”


“Talia, Jarn’at,” she said and my cousins straightened, “When the time comes, when it's Kan'a’s turn to take her girls out to screen the gang, you are both to go and get Arione for me.”


“The one who presents him to me will be the one who can keep him,” she said and my cousins?


They stopped glaring at her.


And started glaring at each other once more.