Life was like a hurricane here in Duckburg.  The McDuck clan was constantly busy, both with the ongoing adventure called daily life; as well as REAL adventures out in the world doing treasure hunting and archaeology.  Led by Scrooge McDuck, the foremost adventurer in the world and richest man on the planet; the Duck family was happy and healthy... most of the time.


Today, not so much.  The amphibious cargo plane dubbed the Sunchaser had come to a landing at the pier near the McDuck mansion and its passengers disembarked, looking much the worse for wear.  Clothes tattered, feathers singed, nursing bruises and bumps, the family looked like it had been through the wringer.


"Ach, Donald, ma laddie, ye really cannae keep bumbling around like this," groused Scrooge in his Scottish brogue as he examined the damage to his top hat, grumbling.


"S'not my fault!" Donald complained, his croaking quack of a voice barely intelligible as English, "I was tryin' ta keep Dewey from setting off that flamethrower trap!"


"An' ye burned down half our camp in the process," Scrooge grumbled, "...We'll hafta return to the Deep Mines of Alcrandra some other time..."


"Oh, lay off him, Uncle Scrooge," said a female voice, "Donald was trying his best."


Della Duck came down the landing ramp, carrying one of her sons, Huey, piggyback.  The adventuress was looking just as tattered as everyone else, but nothing could bring down her spirits.  Her sons did not share her ever-present cheerfulness, however, as Huey groaned weakly.


"Mom... I think I'm gonna hurl..." Huey mumbled, his head woozy.


"Hang on, Huey. I'm getting you home now."


"Oi, lass, we've lost half our supplies and equipment," Scrooge grumbled, "Money doesn't grow on trees, y'know."


"...You're worth trillions, Uncle," sighed Della, "I think a couple of thousand dollars of camping supplies and adventuring equipment isn't gonna make a dent in your budget."


"Says you.  Scrimpin' and savin' is how I made my trillions," Scrooge groused.


“And here I thought you made your trillions from mining,” Della grumbled.


She rolled her eyes and kept walking, her prosthetic left leg clanking down the ramp.  Dewey followed, his hair a mess and clothes torn up, but otherwise looking quite cheerful.


"That was AWESOME.  We need to do stuff like that more!" Dewey chattered excitedly, his webbed feet slapping down on the wooden dock, "The fire, the explosions, the traps! We need to do it again, it was so FUN."


"And all we got for all our trouble was a dumb little statue," Louie sighed, running his thumb across the screen of his smartphone as he carted a box down the ramp.


"Oh, I'm sure it's worth a pretty penny. We just have to get it authenticated and appraised by the experts," Della said.


"Ugh, the things I do for money," Louie grumbled, "...It's not even MY money, it's Uncle Scrooge's, but he's such a cheap miser..."


"Now, now, Louie, Uncle Scrooge has earned everything he has through his hard work," Della said, "But yes, he's also a cheapskate and a penny-pincher. The man's worth over a hundred billion dollars, and he won't even buy his own nephew a new shirt."


"I heard that," Scrooge grumbled, shooting his niece an annoyed, but amused look. Della stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry, grinning cheekily. Scrooge merely huffed and continued his inspection of the Sunchaser, mumbling to himself.


"It's NOT just a dumb little statue," said the next to disembark, Webby.  The little duckling girl was trying ineffectually to cover herself, her clothing having burnt to cinders during the fire. "It's a priceless artifact, the Statue of Priapus!"


Louie looked less than impressed, but was also trying to keep his eyes averted from Webby's pink nipples poking through her chest feathers. A blush tinged his cheeks as he coughed.


"...And we're supposed to care becauuuuse..." Louie asked, his eyes looking anywhere except Webby's naked form.


"The Statue of Priapus is an artifact that brings luck to anyone who owns it!" Webby continued excitedly, oblivious to the boys' embarrassment. "It's a fertility deity from ancient Greece! They say that just the presence of the statue brings good luck and happiness to everyone who comes into contact with it!"


"And what makes you think that's true?" Louie asked, glancing at the box in his arms dubiously.


"I dunno.  Has some sorta magical element to it," said a final voice, lazily.  Louie looked up to see Lena Sabrewing strolling down the ramp.  Like Webby, she was naked, her mosquito-bite breasts exposed. She too, was a bit flustered by the sight, but was handling it better than the others.


Lena was the oldest of the children, a duckling in her tenth year. She was lanky, and rather tall, almost as tall as Webby. She had a long neck and a small chest, her breasts were tiny and petite, with tiny pink nipples. Her hair was short and spiky, a purple forelock drooping into her face.


"...and how can you tell that, Lena?" Dewey asked, his brow raised, his hands on his hips.


"Oh, I know lots of things," Lena said, waggling her fingers in an exaggerated manner, "Magical senses, mystic vibes, stuff like that."


"So what's this Statue of Pria-whatever do?" Louie asked.


"Why are you askin' me?  I can tell it's magical, not what its effect is," Lena shrugged, "But it's probably the real deal. It's old, and it has magic to it."


"And Unca Scrooge is just gonna put it on display in the Money Bin and charge a fee for the public to come see it," Louie said, "What a cheap miser."


"Ach, I'm standing right here," Scrooge grumbled as he marched by with an armful of supplies.


"Okay, that's enough, kids," Della interrupted, "Everyone get up to the mansion and get in the baths.  If I have to smell singed feathers for another minute..."


"Aye, and I'm off to take inventory of what's left," Scrooge groused as the rest began filing up to the mansion.


⁂


An hour later, and the boys had taken their perfunctory shower, and Della was taking her turn in the shower.  She had removed her adventuring gear, sighing tiredly.  She checked her artificial leg's connections, ensuring they were still watertight before stepping under the water. As the water flowed over her head and down her body, she scrubbed the dirt and soot and smoke away, sighing contentedly.


Della brushed her shoulder-length hair back, sighing as she ran her feather-fingers over her scalp, scrubbing it. She sighed tiredly.  She loved her brother Donald, but he could be... clumsy at the best of times and intensely overprotective of her kids the other half.  That combination had caused the disaster.


The young woman grabbed shampoo and began lathering it into her feathers, rubbing at her shoulders and arms, scrubbing herself. She was sore and tired, but a hot bath would cure that. She smiled as she ran her fingers through her plumage, sighing as she felt the heat permeating her body, loosening her muscles and soothing her aches.


Della closed her eyes and let the warm water cascade over her, the steam rising. Her wing wandered down her body, brushing the small bumps on her chest, the tiny nipples. She sighed as she massaged her breasts, the tiny nubs hardening under her touch.


She reached down, wrapping her hand around her cock, feeling the length of it. She shivered at her own touch, and began slowly stroking herself. Her cock quickly hardened, growing to its full 15-inch size, the tip of the foreskin peeling back from the glans, her bulbous head peeking out.


Della had a powerful libido, and having several days of having to abstain from sex was torture for her. She loved being able to relieve herself. She leaned back against the wall of the shower, one hand braced on the tile, the other pumping her cock.


"Mmm," Della sighed, her cock throbbing, her foreskin sliding back and forth along the length of her cock as she masturbated, "Ooh..."


Della's cock was uncircumcised, the foreskin loose. Her cock had the classic shape, thick and long, with a bulbous, shiny head. Underneath her penis was her pussy, a neat, tiny slit that was just starting to dampen with her excitement.


Della huffed softly, slipping a feather into her entrance, rubbing insistantly.  Her wing worked her cock, squeezing and massaging, jerking it with practiced motions. She was used to masturbating; having been stranded on the moon for the better part of a decade alone, her right wing had become her closest lover.  She had made a practice of filling small craters with her thick, gluey semen, leaving her mark.


She pumped faster, stroking her penis with one wing, caressing her clitoris with the other. Della's hips thrust in time, panting breathlessly. Her cock twitched and jerked, pre-cum dribbling from her tip. The combination of soap and precum was making her slick and slimy, and Della's wing slid smoothly up and down her turgid flesh.


The young mother panted, her beak tugged into a grimace as she slid her hand up and down her penis.  It was large for her body, something that she had always had mixed feelings about, but at the moment she loved the size, and wished she had something to penetrate.


Della huffed, moaning, bucking her hips. She was getting close. She bit her bottom bill, her legs trembling. She pumped her penis faster, rubbing insistantly at her clit. Della moaned, the muscles in her pelvis clenching. She grunted, her body going stiff, her wings working herself furiously.


Della's penis pulsed, her thighs tensing, and suddenly she exploded.


With an incoherent squawk of ecstasy, her penis lurched, spurting out rope after rope of pearly-white cum, the liquid flying from the end of her cock. Della bucked her hips, shooting her load against the tile of the shower, her cock bobbing with each pump of her cum. Her body convulsed, pleasure racing through her, her head thrown back in a wordless cry of pleasure.


Three days worth of pent-up pleasure blasted out of Della in immense gluey ropes, splattering on the shower wall. Each gush felt like fire and electricity, her pussy clenching, the young mother writhing in ecstasy. Semen flew in jets, covering the shower in streaks of sticky seed, the liquid sticking and clinging to the wall and floor. Like any other duck, her semen was intensely thick, clinging and gooey, almost like glue.


Della's orgasm could have lasted minutes or hours for all she knew.  Her head was blank, her thoughts empty except for the incredible ecstasy and relief that rocked her small body. Della groaned, cum still spurting from her cock, the liquid dribbling to the floor and down the drain. She grunted, bucking her hips, her legs shaking.


Finally, Della's orgasm ended, and she slumped down, boneless, her head resting against the tile wall. She breathed raggedly, her beak parted, panting for breath, her mind still reeling from her immense climax. The mother lay there for long moments, her wing limp in her crotch.


Slowly, she came to, her sense returning, the young mother smiling in utter bliss. Her entire body was tingling, and the heat radiating from her cock and pussy was comforting, warming her in the warm, damp air of the shower.


And then she heard whispers.


"Dude, move over, I can't see her spurting!"


"I can't move over any further, and I think she's done..."


"Aww, mannn...  She gushed buckets.  I wish I was on the receiving end of that..."


She glanced over at the door and was less than surprised to see the faces of her sons peering through the crack in the door, ogling her. Della sighed.  It wasn't even the first time this week that this had happened.  Ever since re-entering the seven-year-old triplets' lives, they had constantly been peeping on her. She wasn't sure if it was some sort of weird Oedipus Complex they had.


Still, Della could not be mad. There was a small part of her that delighted in having people looking at her naked body and finding her attractive. More than seven years of isolation on the moon could do that.


"Boys..." she called, "...Do we need to have a talk?"


"Yeek!  Scram!  Scamper! Flee!!!" she heard Huey's voice call, even as their webbed feet pounded the floor outside. Della sighed and shook her head, a tired smile on her beak. She rose and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower.


Sometime soon, she was going to have to sit them down and have a talk about the birds and the bees.  Her sons were getting to be the age where they were getting curious. It would do them all a lot of good if Della explained to them exactly what their bodies were and did, and maybe have Webby and Lena there as well.


The last thing she needed was the boys wandering around with erections and not knowing why, and not knowing how to relieve themselves. As a mother, it was her duty to make sure her children knew everything, and weren't wandering around in ignorance.


At least, that's how Della rationalized it.


⁂
In one of the vaults in the mansion, Scrooge watched as Donald pulled the Statue of Priapus from the straw-filled crate and hefted it up towards a pedestal.


"Careful, laddie!  That statue's worth more than everythin' ye own, combined," Scrooge admonished.


Donald looked at him over his shoulder, rolling his eyes before gingerly placing the statue upon the pedestal. He and Scrooge both stepped back to examine it.


"There we go. Safe and sound," Donald quacked, "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"


"Hrmph. We'll see.  I need to get some researchers and appraisers in here ta look at it," Scrooge remarked, leaning in to examine the statue.


The Statue of Priapus was a two-foot-tall effigy depicting an anthropomorphic elephant, possibly the titular Priapus himself.  It resembled a fertility idol, with voluptuous features, a rotund belly. A lewd smirk was etched onto his face. His eyes glowed a faint red.


It was also, to the eyes of anyone who looked upon it, absolutely and unabashedly obscene. Its penis was the main focus of the statue, a huge, erect shaft that stood proudly in the air. The penis was thick and veiny, a huge bulbous head, the foreskin wrapped tight around the glans.  It was utterly out of proportion to the rest of the statue in size.


The elephant held a large purple gemstone above his head, which glittered and gleamed in the light.


"Well, Uncle Scrooge? What do you think?" asked Donald.


"...It's obscene, is what it is," Scrooge stated, "But it'll do a decent job of givin' us the next steps to further treasure, once we do some good ol' fashioned research and leg work.  Now.  Close down the vault fer me."


Scrooge turned on his heel and sauntered out, leaving Donald... who hadn't heard a word he had said.


The young man was staring at the purple gemstone as it gleamed and shined in the light. There was something... fascinating about it, and Donald couldn't tear his eyes away from the stone. It was beautiful, captivating. He was utterly transfixed.


The gemstone sparkled, and Donald was unable to look away. It was utterly captivating, like staring at a campfire on a winter night, the way the flames danced and crackled, flickering. Donald couldn't tear his gaze away, his mind falling into the purple light.


Donald blinked and he found himself on the floor, his hands gripping the pedestal. The room was silent and still, save for the sound of his own breathing. Donald rose unsteadily, his legs weak and his head fuzzy, his mind still trying to process what had happened.


He glanced around and realized with a jolt that the front of his pants was soaked.  White fluid bubbled through the fabric, dripping to the floor. His penis was stiff and turgid, pressing hard against the fabric of his sailor suit.


It was without any sort of real conscious thought that Donald pulled his shorts down. His cock bounced up, free of the confining fabric. He was rock-hard, his 15-inch member throbbing and erect.


"Yes....  Must stroke...." Donald quacked tonelessly, purple whirls surrounding his irises. He wrapped a hand around his cock, his thumb pulling back his foreskin, exposing his bright pink cockhead. His shaft was slick and slimy, his pre-cum oozing profusely, the liquid drooling from his tip in a steady flow.


Donald stroked himself, his hand gliding up and down his slippery, turgid shaft. The pre-cum lubricated him, his hand sliding up and down his 15 inches, his fist gliding smoothly up and down the length of his throbbing member.


The gemstone glittered and Donald grunted, pleasure surging through his cock, his entire penis and pelvis tingling, his hips jerking. He felt the cum churning in his testicles, his heavy, full nuts, and he was helpless to do anything but obey the instinctual urge that overtook him.


His penis was slimy and wet with the remnants of his first completely unaware orgasm, as well as his bubbling precum now.  Every stroke of his fat hood over his sensitive head made a lewd slurp, a filthy, perverse noise, and Donald moaned, his voice quacking.


"Nghhh.... Aahhhh..."


The statue's gemstone glowed again, and Donald's mind fogged, his eyes widening and going glassy.  The only thing in his head was a wordless imperative to stroke his penis.


"Stroke... stroke... stroke..." Donald's beak quacked, the words slipping from his bill. He was utterly oblivious to anything else around him, save for the need to pleasure himself.


Donald's wings stroked up and down his shaft, his cock twitching. He moaned, his hips thrusting, the head of his cock peeking out from his foreskin with every movement. He pumped faster, his cock slick and slippery.


The mindless duck's heavy balls tightened, his body stiffening.


"Ngghhhhhaaahhhh!!!!!"


Donald's eyes went wide, his cock pulsing, and suddenly his penis erupted, shooting a massive geyser of his gluey, gooey, pearly white semen into the air. He moaned, his beak falling open, his mouth hanging, his tongue hanging out as he huffed and puffed, his eyes unfocused and hazy.
He spurted again and again, shooting his load, his orgasm powerful.


The first spurt rocketed a good 6 feet across the room, splattering onto the ground. Another massive burst of cum, a rope as thick as his finger, flew from the end of his cock, arcing in the air striking the statue on the pedestal, draping in messy dribbles and strands over the priceless artifact.


The thick fluid seemed to seep into the gemstone, absorbed, filling its purple facets with milky whiteness. Donald grunted and came again, his cock erupting. This time, the blast was less powerful, the semen only spurting a few feet. It was still enough to splatter and coat the bottom half of the statue, dripping thickly, gooey and gluey, to the floor.


Donald's knees trembled, his orgasm still raging, his balls clenching as he continued to come, his penis pulsing, pumping out more and more of his sticky, gluey seed. His body was wracked with pleasure, his brain a fuzzy, empty void.


Cum gushed from his cock, his orgasm lasting long moments.


His semen splattered on the floor, the statue, and even Donald himself, his own cum soaking into his feathers and clothes.


After long minutes of mindless ecstasy, his body writhing in the throes of his climax, his orgasm finally came to an end.


Donald's eyes continued to whirl with purple as he lay there, his penis drooling onto his own stomach.  His feet twitched randomly, his limbs splayed out. His cock was still rock-hard and throbbing.
And the statue, coated in his cum, the gemstone filled with his semen, gleamed and glowed in the dim light of the vault.


"....Stand up..." Donald quacked, rising unsteadily to his webbed orange feet.  His face was slack, his mind completely pliant.


"...Turn.  Leave.  Forget everything..." Donald said, the words leaving his bill with no conscious thought. He staggered towards the door, his cock still erect and bobbing as he walked.


The duck stumbled into the hallway, and closed the vault door behind him without a backward glance, completely unaware.


As soon as the vault clanked shut, the duck gave a full-body shudder.  He shook his head rapidly, the purple swirls fading from his eyes. Donald blinked a few times, rubbing at his eyes, his head still fuzzy. He grunted and shook his head again, his vision clearing, his mind starting to work again.


Donald glanced down and gasped.


"Oh boy..." Donald groaned, looking down at his sopping-wet sailor suit. His cock was still exposed, his penis still slick and slimy, half-hard. turgid.  His pants were missing. His memory of the last... however long he was in the vault was completely blank.


Donald blushed. What had happened?


"...Oh, well," he grumbled, pulling his sailor shirt off, "...This needs a wash..."


And if someone caught a glimpse of his naked butt as he walked towards the laundry room... oh, well.


⁂


Late, late that night, the entire McDuck clan was asleep.  Their snores filled the air as they slept soundly... for the most part.  Dewey was having a wet dream and soaking his bed sheets with wet, milky jets of semen, as young boys will.


He wouldn't be the only one soon.


The milky center of the gemstone in the Statue began to swirl and whirl about, starting with a slow slosh before speeding up until it was like a whirlpool. The liquid semen in the statue glowed, the white fluid bubbling.


And then a shockwave without force, a wave of immaterial purple energy raced out from the statue, radiating through the mansion. Every being touched by that wave suddenly jerked in their sleep, their bodies reacting to the magical signal.


As one, their dreams which were (mostly) innocent and peaceful turned turbulent and lewd and... purple.


Every dream of the Duck Clan took a sexual, perverse turn, filled with debauchery and sexuality. Scrooge dreamed of a harem of beautiful women, naked, riding his cock. Beakley dreamed of a big cock filling her pussy. Launchpad dreamed of a naked Della jerking him off with her hands and feet.


And the children?


Lena dreamed of being taken by Huey and Louie, the two duckling boys double-teaming her. Webby dreamed of Dewey and Huey masturbating her, jerking their hands up and down her cock.
Everyone dreamed of sex, and as they dreamed, their bodies responded in the real world. Cocks began to stiffen in young and old. Pussies began to dampen and moisten. Enormous jets of semen erupted, coating bellies, clothes, and sheets in wet, gluey cum.


The wet dreams continued on and on, hours of the deep night passing with the occupants of McDuck Manor writhing and wriggling in their beds, humping and grinding at the air, even as they continued to snore and slumber.


And then everyone went still as one.  Eyes opened, blazing with eldritch purple light.


The ducks breathed slowly, muttering under their breath one word over and over, "Priapus..."


And as they lay staring with glowing eyes, the strange purple energies filled their minds, tweaking and teasing their personalities towards perversion and lustfulness.  The changes were subtle... for now, the corruption only surface level.  Their bodies too, would slowly, in time, adjust.
But the statue's aura of corruption was quickly exhausted of power, Donald's milky semen converted to energy to fuel its corruptive effects. The Statue returned to its dormant, neutral state, its gemstone no longer filled with milky cum, the purple whirls fading from the eyes of the occupants of McDuck manor.


Slowly, one by one, the ducks settled back down, snoring softly. They were tired, weary, worn. 
And the dream world beckoned.


As they were drawn back into slumber, their wet dreams, and the sex therein, resumed...
...And they would wake up coated in wet, gluey, milky-white semen…


⁂


The next morning arrived with muted confusion, embarrassment, and the supreme awkwardness of trying to sneak semen-sodden sheets and night clothes into the laundry room without anyone else noticing.


And then there was the cleaning of sticky feathers.  Indeed, everyone's morning ablutions took longer than usual, causing some clamor as there were arguments about hogging the hot water and the bathroom.


No one felt rested.  Despite everyone remembering having slept clean through the night, a haze of grogginess was heavy upon everyone. Most felt like they hadn't slept a wink.


Breakfast was also a subdued affair, for once, as the members of McDuck Manor trundled downstairs. Conversation was minimal and perfunctory and.... awkward.


Indeed, in addition to feeling tired, strange and intrusive thoughts kept bubbling up.  Della found herself admiring the prominent bulges in her Uncle's kilt and her brother's pants, and having to shake her head to dislodge the odd incestuous thoughts that kept invading her mind. Okay, she had OCCASIONALLY fantasized about her brother, and masturbated to the memories of her and Donald playing doctor when they were kids, but... that was just idle fantasy. Not... serious...


Della blushed and stirred her cereal idly with her spoon.  She was just sex-deprived.  Seven-plus years of isolation on the moon had finally addled her to the point of fantasizing about having sex with her blood relatives.


Della glanced at Scrooge and Donald, blushing as she watched the elderly Scotsman chew his eggs and bacon and sip his coffee, the bulge of his heavy, low-hanging, oversized testicles and the lump of his fat, enormous cock in his kilt visible. Della felt her beak tug into a frown.


Uncle Scrooge was her family and was twice her age! She had no business whatsoever fantasizing about the ancient man! He had changed her diapers, for crying out loud. But... that fat cock, the sheer bulk of it... Della gulped and tried to push the thought out of her head, but it refused to budge.


That was it.  Della needed to find SOMEONE to screw.  She'd put it off for as long as she could.  Either she needed the best sex toy a near-infinite fortune could buy, find a male escort... or... ugh... barring all other options... use Launchpad as a one-night-stand.  But she HAD to stop thinking about Donald's big... throbbing... drooling... penis... Della squirmed, her pussy moistening, the feathers dampening between her legs.


The discomfort was universal.  Everyone at the table was preoccupied with their own thoughts and needs.


With little fanfare, the children were dismissed from the table and wandered off to pursue their daily activities, while the adults did much the same.


Everyone was eager to not have to look one another in the eyes.


⁂


Huey felt WEIRD.  He'd woken up covered in white milk, the same stuff that shot from his mother's penis when she rubbed herself in the shower.  He was pretty sure his brothers had done the same.  Worse, there'd been an odd throbbing in his own penis all morning.  A boner that wouldn't go away.  His shorts were bulging in the front, and it was embarrassing.


It was especially embarrassing because Dewey and Louie had boners too and... he could kind of see the outline of his brothers' penises in the shorts, and his boner only seemed to grow when he looked at them.  Normally, Huey's stiffies went away after a while, especially if he stopped thinking about it.


...He couldn't *stop* thinking about it for some reason, so THAT wasn't working.  He remembered reading something in the Junior Woodchuck's Guide about when a person had a stiffie lasting longer than four hours...  A condition called "pri--..."


There was a flash of purple that washed through the boy's mind.  Huey shuddered from head to toe, his cock throbbing painfully, a surge of pleasure racing up his spine, an electric feeling in his balls. His shorts tenting obscenely. He grunted, his legs almost collapsing.


And then his mind cleared and he had completely forgotten what he was thinking about.  He winced, noticing the dampness spreading across the crotch of his red shorts.  He grunted and blushed.  He knew what that was... sorta.  When he watched his mom in the shower, his stiffy would often leak like that.


Huey took a deep breath.  He'd been thinking about his mom naked all morning.  Or Webby's pink nipple peeking through the rags of her clothes yesterday.  Or the glimpse of Lena's sheath he had gotten when her clothing had burned to cinders.  None of that was unusual, but the sheer frequency of those thoughts filling his head was disconcerting.


Huey glanced around, and made a scamper for the nearest bathroom.  He slipped inside and pulled down his shorts.


His penis sprang up, his cock flopping out, bobbing, thick, throbbing. Clear fluid beaded at his tip, drooling down his shaft. Huey sighed and grabbed his penis, his thumb running under his loose foreskin, over his pink, drooling head. Pleasure surged up his spine and he shivered.


It was weird.  Like all little boys, Huey got stiffies regularly.  He'd played with himself, of course, even played with his brother's boners a couple of times. But it had never felt like THAT before. Touching himself felt... really good.


Huey stroked himself up and down, the skin of his foreskin rolling over his fat, turgid head, the fluid drooling, coating his thick, veiny shaft. Pleasure raced through the little boy and he leaned against the wall, huffing, his beak falling open.


He frowned as he looked down at his penis.  Was it...  Was it bigger than it was yesterday?  Without a ruler, Huey couldn't be sure, but he felt like his penis fit in his hand better than it had before, like the length of his hand wasn't enough anymore. Huey shrugged, brushing the thought away.


The triplet began stroking his cock, his wing moving up and down, his loose foreskin gliding up and down over the fat crown of his penis. He gasped, pleasure racing up his spine, a warmth in his belly. His penis bobbed and jumped, his cock spurting. Pre-cum drooled in thin dribbles to the floor.


His mind was filled with those images again.  His mother rubbing her boner in the shower.  Webby's nipple. Lena's naked vagina. The bulge in his brothers' pants...  Huey groaned and pumped his fist up and down his thick shaft, his legs shaking.


What was WRONG with him? Why were those images popping up? Huey pumped his penis harder, pre-cum bubbling at his tip. He couldn't get rid of them. Webby's breasts filled his mind, her nipples poking out, her pussy lips drooling, pink and pretty. His cock jumped in his wing, his penis spewing pre-cum like a fountain.


His penis was hot and tingled, and there was a warmth building in his balls, a clenching tightness.


"N-nnghhhh..." Huey grunted, the tip of his foreskin gliding over his dripping head, the sensation incredible, driving all rational thought from his head. He felt like his entire cock was one nerve, raw, sensitive.


Huey stroked faster, humping into his wing. His feet scraped at the tile floor, the young boy's hips thrusting wildly. He whimpered, his cock spewing dribbles and spurts of pre-cum onto the floor, drooling and bubbling from the end of his penis.
The door to the bathroom was locked... right?


"Nnngghhhh..." Huey whined, gasping as he pumped his cock, his hips bucking. His balls were hot and full and tight and a huge urge to just keep stroking until... whatever was building in him happened overcame the young lad.


His wings blurred as he jerked his cock, his feet scuffing at the tile floor. Huey felt like his penis was on fire, his entire cock tingling and pulsing, his cockhead dribbling and drooling pre-cum. He huffed and moaned, his penis jumping in his grip.


Suddenly the door to the bathroom swung open, Dewey and Louie coming in.


"Hey, have you seen--... OH."


The boys saw Huey jerking off.


"S-shut the d-door!!!" Huey moaned, his penis twitching, jerking, spurting pre-cum like a leaky faucet.


His brothers did NOT shut the door.  In fact, they came inside.


"Uh... Hi," Dewey greeted awkwardly, his cheeks flushed, his eyes flicking to Huey's throbbing penis and then flicking away again. He and Louie were also suffering from the morning's perversion. Their cocks tented in their shorts obscenely.


Louie smirked at Huey, crossing his arms. He was the younger of the triplets by a couple of seconds. "You need some help with that, Hubert?"


"G-get OUT!!!" Huey moaned but was unable to look away from the obscene outlines of his brothers' fat cocks in their shorts. He licked his bill, swallowing heavily, his own cock drooling, twitching, spurting pre-cum in fountains over his wings, splattering to the floor.
His brothers did not get out.  They stared in fascination as Huey's penis began to pulsate, his testicles drawing tight to the base of his erection. Huey gasped and cried out..


A jet of thick, gluey cum erupted from the end of his cock, blasting against the far wall with such force that it splattered and streaked across the wall, a massive wet mess. Louie and Dewey jumped, eyes wide.


Huey's penis lurched, the triplet throwing his head back and crying out, his cock spurting a second burst, the jet of thick white ejaculate coating the far wall, painting it in streaks and splatters of wet cum. Huey's webbed orange toes curled as his body was wracked by pleasure far too mature for his young age, the triplet bucking his hips.


Louie and Dewey gaped, staring at the wet wall, and then at Huey. Their wings cupped their groins at the sight, squeezing involuntarily.  And that was all it took for them.


Louie's penis lurched, his testicles drawing tight, and suddenly he was moaning, his hips jerking, his eyes going wide. His eyes rolled back in his head as his orgasm crashed through his body. His balls clenched and his cock twitched, spurting inside his shorts. Louie gasped and panted, his entire body going weak as his orgasm rushed over him, his semen filling the front of his shorts, dribbling down his leg.


Dewey had no chance. The duckling's cock exploded, his semen erupting from his tip. Unlike Huey, he wore briefs, and his duck spunk flooded his underwear, filling them instantly. The bulge in the front of his pants sagged, weighed down by his load, as his cum-filled briefs drooped obscenely.
Dewey fell to his knees, gasping for breath, his eyes unfocused and hazy.


Huey's own orgasm continued. His cock spewed another massive spurt of gluey semen, the sticky fluid splattering against the wall. It was followed by a second, and then a third, the thick cum flying from his cock. Huge jets of pearly-white liquid blasted the wall, painting the surface in huge wet gobs and splatters of his seed.


The three ducklings moaned helplessly, caught in the grips of their very first orgasms, unable to stop even if they tried. Their bodies were wracked with pleasure, their cocks jerking and pulsing, shooting load after load of gluey semen. Their hips rolled uncontrollably as the unfamiliar and overwhelming burning ache rushed up their spines, making them huff and moan, their brains turning to mush.


After what seemed like hours of writhing and convulsing, the boys finally came to a rest, slumped against the wall and floor. They breathed raggedly, their cocks drooping, slick and slimy. They were utterly spent.


They lay there, their brains turned to mush, their bodies quivering with aftershocks, their cocks twitching and jerking in the afterglow.


"What... was THAT?" Dewey asked, grunting as he pushed himself upright, his shorts soaked and soiled, the fabric clinging obscenely to his legs.


"...I think it's called an orgasm," Huey answered, still slumped against the wall, his chest heaving, "I think I read some stuff about it in the Junior Woodchuck's Guide."


"No WONDER Mom does that every time she showers," Louie muttered, "That was FUN. I want to do that AGAIN."


"I think I might need a new pair of underwear," Dewey stated, pulling the soaked crotch of his shorts out to look inside, the white, gluey semen squelching obscenely.


"Ugh, me too," Louie agreed, feeling the squish and glutinous weight of the semen-soaked fabric against his leg.


"...But first... uh... wanna do that again?" Dewey asked, grinning as his still-erect penis flopped up, slapping against his shirt.


"YEAH!" his brothers agreed in unison.  The bathroom filled with the wet, schlicking noise of masturbation and the moans of young boys.


⁂


Donald was having trouble focusing.  Scrooge had dragooned him into assisting in an inventory of the mansion's basement, and Donald's mind was anywhere else but here.


Ever since waking up this morning, the duck's mind had been a constant whirlwind of lewd thoughts, images, fantasies. It was like his brain was permanently stuck in the gutter, and every thought he had was of a sexual nature.


Worse... his thoughts weren't of Daisy, his girlfriend. Or even some porn star or model or celebrity.


It was his sister. Della.


Donald groaned inwardly, rubbing his forehead. He had spent a good portion of the day so far trying to banish the intrusive, incestuous, impure thoughts about his twin, but he was constantly losing focus and getting distracted.


And... his cock was always hard.


It was ridiculous. It wasn't the first time that his sister had made her way into his thoughts during a private session of "solo play". Della was very attractive and, as siblings, the two had often played doctor or showered together as children, but outside of occasional masturbatory fantasy... he'd never had the slightest REAL urge to do anything with her.


Until now. Now it was all he could think about.


Donald glanced around the vault he was in, at the hundreds upon hundreds of shelves filled with artifacts, trinkets, and treasures. Scrooge and him were the only ones currently down here, and Scrooge was several vaults away, busy taking an inventory of his own.


Donald sighed, closing his eyes. He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. He glanced around rapidly, blushing at the thought of what he was about to do.  He just needed to clear his head so he could concentrate.


Donald pulled down the front of his pants, freeing his cock, the duck's thick, semi-erect cock flopping up, slapping against his sailor shirt, his thick, heavy, low-hanging nuts jiggling.


Donald grabbed his dick, wrapping his fingers around his shaft, a quiet groan slipping from his bill. His cock stiffened under his touch, his penis growing harder, fatter. A pearl of water-clear, but syrup-thick liquid beaded at his tip.


"Aw, phooey....  Just do it..." he muttered to himself, glancing at the open vault door.  


Donald grunted and began jerking himself off. Pleasure surged up his spine with every pump of his fist up and down his fat, veiny shaft. The duck's cock grew fat and swollen, rapidly inflating to its full, erect length of 15 inches. The size of a small child's arm, his massive uncut cock had both been a source of immense pleasure... and immense trouble in his life. Given his innate clumsiness, he'd tripped over his own cock more times than he could count.


The duck leaned back against the shelf, jerking off, his cock twitching, his foreskin gliding up over his bulbous cockhead, peeling back from the pink-red glans, the skin loose and pre-lubricated. Precum beaded and dribbled from his tip, lubricating his shaft, his thick member shiny and slick.
Donald grunted and jerked himself off faster, his penis jumping, bouncing and bobbing as his cock lurched in his wing, spewing droplets and spurts of pre-cum into the air.


And then there was a flash of purple, not across his vision, but... inside his head. A strange... compulsion... filled his mind.  He straightened up, purple swirls surrounding the irises of his eyes. Donald's wings fell to his sides, limp at the shoulder. His cock bobbed and throbbed, the duck standing at attention, staring blankly ahead.


Then, he slowly lifted one big flat orange foot straight out, and began to march. The duck marched, naked from the waist down, his erection bouncing up and down in front of him, drooling clear drops of pre-cum with every movement, the liquid streaking and globbing on the ground with every step.


His arms lifted, held straight out from the shoulder, wrists dangling limp as Donald marched stiff-legged through the basement, his cock and heavy low-hanging nuts flopping. His beak was slack, his face blank. Donald marched.


The duck passed several vaults, still marching, his cock throbbing and drooling precum. Purple swirls circled his irises. His big orange webbed feet thumped on the ground with every movement.


Eventually, the naked Donald Duck arrived at a vault and stepped through the door, marching into the interior.


The Statue of Priapus waited within, its gemstone flickering with purple light.  It was calling him.  It was incorrect to assign any sentience to the statue.  It was more like a machine, fulfilling a programmed imperative.


It was designed to find the weakest mind within range and enthrall them to its purpose.  Donald was simply the unfortunate duck to wander close enough to its influence for its magic to take hold. It was a simple device.  Control weak minds.  Input semen.  Output corruption and perversion. Simple. Elegant. Effective.


Donald marched towards the pedestal holding the statue, his cock drooling syrupy strings and ropes of pre-cum. He reached the pedestal and halted.


The duck stood stock still, his cock and nuts hanging between his legs. His eyes swirled with purple. His mind was empty of thought, his consciousness asleep.


"Stroke...." Donald quacked tonelessly. There was another pulse of purple energy, flashing through Donald's mind. His limbs moved without conscious thought, his wing lifting and grasping his cock, beginning to stroke.


He returned to masturbating, but this time in a slow, sleepy manner; not seeming to even be aware of the pleasure coursing through his body. Donald stroked his cock in a slow, methodical manner, his fist pumping up and down his fat, drooling shaft, his foreskin rolling up and down his glistening, slimy shaft.


Donald stood there, sleeping, stroking his cock, his eyes swirling with purple, his body moving mechanically.  His free hand reached down to cup his feathery testicles, rolling and kneading them between his fingers, massaging his swollen nuts, the duck's cock throbbing, a spurt of pre-cum drooling down his shaft.


The duck stood, mindlessly stroking his cock, the only sounds his moans, his labored breathing, and the wet, lewd noises of his foreskin peeling over his slick, dripping cockhead.


"Stroke.... Stroke.... Stroke..." Donald's bill quacked, the words leaving him without thought. The purple haze grew stronger, his mind growing hazier.  His hand pumped in time with the impulse, his fist sliding up and down his thick, slippery shaft, the foreskin peeling over the engorged crown, his fat, leaking cockhead.


"...Ejaculate," he said flatly, his croaking quack of a voice barely able to form the syllables.
Donald's cock lurched and his nuts tightened, the duck's eyes going wide.


The duck's enormous cock exploded, his penis spewing a jet of his semen, the fluid blasting across the room, splattering and streaking against the wall behind the statue.  The mindless duck adjusted his aim, sending the next jet splashing against the gemstone, the milky liquid coating the facets.


Almost instantly, the thick gel began to seep into the stone statue, absorbed away and stored in a sloshing reservoir in the center of the purple gem.  Donald's thick duck spunk spattered and coated the gemstone, dripping, drooling down the faceted surface.


"Uh.  Uh.  Uh. Uh," grunted Donald in time with each spurt, the only vocalization that showed any indication that the duck even felt the intense orgasm that was wracking his body. Donald's hips thrust forward, his cock spraying like a fire hose, the duck's ejaculate splattering the statue, the pedestal, and leaving a silhouette of white on the wall behind the statue.


After what seemed like hours but was only minutes, the duck's orgasm came to an end. The last spurts and dribbles of his thick, gluey, pearly white semen bubbled and dribbled down his shaft, 
the sticky fluid running down his legs.


Donald's orgasm finally ended, and the duck's hand fell to his side, the duck's arm limp, dangling. Donald was left swaying in place, his eyes blank, the only sign that the duck was alive his labored breathing, his chest heaving. His penis was still hard, the huge cock throbbing.


Donald stood swaying, his mind completely blank.


He stood for several moments, the statue glowing. The semen coating and surrounding the statue slowly sucked up into the matter of the elephantine figure.  The puddle shrank, until it was as clean as it had ever been.  The only trace of semen was the outline of the statue on the far wall.


After long minutes, the semen had all drained away. The statue flared with purple light, and Donald's eyes swirled, the duck's pupils flaring with the same eldritch light.


"Leave.  Forget.  Obey," Donald quacked in a dull, lifeless monotone, his beak slack, his tone flat.


Donald turned, his wings limp at his sides, his feet dragging, the duck walking in a stiff-legged gait. He shambled through the door and disappeared from sight.


The Statue glowed for a moment longer, before returning to its inert, dormant state.


The mindless, entranced Donald stumbled his way through the basement, his penis leading the way. It took the mindless duck a few minutes to find his way back to his original vault. He stepped inside.


"WAK!" he squawked, giving a full body jolt as his brain came awake. He glanced around, his mind a confused whirl.


He didn't have time to orient himself and figure out where he was and what was happening.  At that moment, Scrooge appeared in the doorway.


"...What are ye doin' lollygaggin' about, laddie?" demanded his Uncle, his hands on his hips, the old man's bushy eyebrows raised.


"I-uh-wak!" Donald stammered, blushing heavily as he noticed his exposed, drooping cock. "I-I got distracted, Unca Scrooge!"


"I can see that," said the elder duck, jabbing his cane towards Donald's genitals, "...Listen, laddie, I do nae' mind ye takin' a short break ta blow off some steam, but... maybe ye could do it in the bathroom, an' not where ye could ruin some precious artifacts?"


"Uh-um, right, Unca Scrooge! W-wait-wak!" Donald stammered and stumbled, tripping over his feet as he tried to tuck his massive penis away and pull his pants up.


"Oh fer the love o'..." grumbled Scrooge, rolling his eyes, "Just... hurry up, laddie, and get back ta work. We still need ta finish this inventory."


"Yes, sir!"


⁂


Lena grumbled blearily.  Not even a night without good rest could blunt Webby's energy. The morning had started early, with Webby banging on the door and yelling, "Lena! Lena! Get up! Wake up! C'mon, we gotta go explore the mansion and play and go outside and-"


The rest of the words faded into background noise as Lena pulled her pillow over her head, hoping to drown out the sound and fall back asleep.


That hadn't worked, as she felt a warm, fluffy weight on top of her.  Lena's morning wood, still tenting her nightclothes, brushed something soft, and the duckling groaned and opened her eyes.


"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Webby chirped. She was sitting astride Lena's pelvis, her nightshirt and panties doing little to hide her own prominent bulge, or the girl's round, fat little butt cheeks.


"I'm up. I'm up. Get off me," Lena grumbled, pushing the girl off and rising, "Geeze, Pink. I get that you're excited about me being here, but a little space would be nice."


Webby frowned. "Sorry."


"Nah, I'm just cranky because I'm tired. You're fine," Lena said, ruffling Webby's hair.
Webby had climbed off, and her nightshirt had hiked up, showing her little white panties with pink stars, and a noticeable lump at the front... and a prominent damp spot below, the outline of Webby's vulva clearly visible. Lena's eyes flicked to it. She licked her bill, her eyes glinting.


And that sight had tormented Lena for the rest of the morning, bouncing about her head, driving her crazy with desire. And, much to her consternation, her penis had decided to become a persistent, painful problem, throbbing and stiff and insistent.


Unlike the triplets (and Webby, so far as she knew), Lena had at least a VERY basic concept of sex.  Magica DeSpell had created her with the intent of using her for more purposes than just bringing the downfall of Scrooge McDuck and his clan...  Though Lena had broken away from Magica WELL before the evil witch had a chance to do anything pedophilic with her creation.


As a result, Lena knew exactly WHY her penis was stiff and her vagina was damp as the memory of Webby's bulge and wet spot filled her mind, and was frustrated at her body's reaction.


It had taken some doing, but the teen duckling had managed to excuse herself for a little bit, ducking into the bathroom.


Lena was now standing at the sink, looking in the mirror. She had large angular eyes, short-cropped white feathers, with a long forelock tipped in lavender.  The ten-year-old had a very slender, almost frail-looking build, her legs and arms long and spindly. Her chest was just starting to bud, just the barest hints of the curves that she would have as an adult woman, her nipples just barely visible as nubs through her shirt.


She had the beginnings of a woman's breasts, but the rest of her body was that of a little girl.


A ten-year-old girl whose face was flushed red, her cheeks puffed out.


Lena HATED blushing.  It broke her whole "too cool for anything" facade. She didn't know how other people dealt with it.


She sighed, her eyes going to her lower body.  Her shirt was lifted up from below, a large pronounced lump.


"Are we doing this again?" she grumbled.


The girl lifted her shirt, revealing her erect penis.


"Seriously? All day?"


The penis jumped, as if in answer.


"Ugh..." Lena shook her head, looking back up into the mirror.


"Okay, let's get a couple things straight," she told herself. "I am NOT gonna spend all day thinking about my best friend's cunny.  She's cute and innocent, and I'm not into her that way...."


Her cock pulsed, twitching, a dribble of watery pre-cum oozing out.


"No, seriously. I'm not."


If anything, her penis got even harder, as if in disagreement.


"I'm not attracted to her.  I'm not attracted to anybody."


Lena's dick was a stubborn, persistent, lewd, filthy traitor and gave another bounce.


"....And I've clearly gone insane because I'm talking to my own stiffy," Lena sighed, burying her face in her sleeve-covered hands, flopping onto the toilet.


"But... she was sitting on me, and my penis was right there, and she had this... wet spot. She had a boner too, but that's not the point. It looked really... um... p-pretty..."


Lena sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, the girl's shoulders slumping.


"Ah, phooey," she grumbled, borrowing Donald's catchphrase, even as she wrapped her hands around her cock, beginning to pump slowly.


"Fine. But... let's just not think about her while we do this, okay?"


Her cock jumped in her grip, a dribble of pre spilling onto her shirt.


"Right. Good talk," she grumbled, her fingers moving over her length, her loose, smooth foreskin sliding back and forth, peeling back over her shiny pink cockhead.


Lena's hands moved faster, the duckling stroking her penis, the flesh growing slick, a dribble of pre-cum running over her fingers. Lena's eyes glazed over, the duckling beginning to moan softly, her toes curling, her knees drawing together.


Lena was more experienced and knowledgable than the other kids, but she was still extremely new to masturbation.  She had only done so a dozen times before this, and her technique was more than a little clumsy and awkward.


Her hand stroked clumsily up and down her cock, the young girl's hips humping up and down, thrusting into her grip. She gasped, gritting her beak and trying to stifle her involuntary moans and squeaks, her body writhing and jerking.


"C'mon, c'mon..." she muttered to herself, jerking faster and faster, the slick flesh of her foreskin gliding up over her slick head, and sliding back down, "Let's get this over with..."


Her toes curled and her webbed toes dug at the bathroom carpet as the pleasure grew in intensity. Her breath grew faster and harsher. Her body felt so sensitive. The brush of her shirt over her budding breasts felt so erotic, every breath of cool air was erotic. Her vagina, already moist and hot, became even hotter. Her cunny dripped, hot and damp, dampening her panties. Her cock pulsed and throbbed in her hands.


Her free wing hesitated, caught between going up to rub her chest or down between her legs.  Instinct made the decision for her and Lena's hand went up to rub her chest. The duckling's small fingers dug under the edge of her shirt and flicked across her pink nipple, poking through the down covering her chest. Electric pleasure rushed through Lena.


Lena huffed and gasped and whimpered, her small body trembling. She felt so good. She was so hot and horny and everything felt so good...


Unlike the triplets, Lena understood exactly what was about to happen and wasn't about to make a gigantic obvious mess.  She stood up, biting her lip to hold back her orgasm just long enough to turn around and aim her penis at the toilet.


One wing on her penis, the other pinching and rolling a super-sensitive nipple, Lena's body went rigid as she erupted, her cock spurting.


Lena's cum spattered, the white gel drummed against the inside of the bowl. Lena moaned and panted, huffing, stroking her spurting penis. Jet after jet of pearly-white duck semen splashed the inside of the toilet, the thick fluid pooling.


"Ahhnnnn..." she moaned, feeling her body surge with pleasure, her vagina fluttering, her cock jumping and spurting.  It felt even better than her usual climaxes, each gush feeling like an explosion of white-hot bliss, making her gasp and huff, her mind turning to mush.


Her spunk filled the bowl, splashing and spattering against the water. The toilet began to fill with the gluey white goo, rising with every spurt of Lena's cock, filling the bowl rapidly, rising towards the lip of the bowl. Lena stroked faster, gasping and groaning, her legs trembling, her body spasming.


"AHHNN!" Lena squealed as another spurt shot out of her cock, spurting up into the air before splattering in the rapidly filling bowl, sending ripples through the thick, gluey cum. Lena's legs shook as her cock spat more into the liquid, rising with every surge, the toilet beginning to fill.


It seemed to take an eternity, but after a couple minutes Lena's climax ended, her cock twitching, dribbling out a last few spurts onto the seat. The bowl was full to the rim with semen. Lena leaned over, panting for breath, her head spinning, her penis still erect and twitching, dripping cum.


She wiped a bead of sweat from her head and puffed a bit of her lavender forelock out of her face.  Despite the pleasure of the climax, the relief of pressure, and the warm afterglow flushing her body... she grimaced.


....She had thought about nothing BUT Webby's vulva when masturbating, and had felt like her heart was going to explode as she thought about Webby sitting astride her, the outline of the girl's puffy cunny pressed against her. Lena bit her lip and flushed at the thought.


Lena sighed, leaning her hands on the wall, her body weak.


She really wanted to talk to someone about it, but... it wasn't exactly the kind of topic that one brought up at breakfast or with their best friend's family.


Lena glanced over, staring at the cum-filled toilet with dismay.


She was gonna have to clean this up before she left...


⁂


Della buried her beak in her palms as she tried to muffle her groan of frustration and unbridled arousal.  She had been working on the Sunchaser, adjusting some of the engine belts... until she realized she'd been staring into space for the better part of fifteen minutes, daydreaming not just of Uncle Scrooge and her brother... but worse...  her kids.


"What is WRONG with me?" she hissed to herself, trying to banish the images of Donald's thick dick out of her head, trying to ignore the heat that flooded her pussy with every fantasy of her boys licking and sucking at her breasts...


She shook her head hard, growling in irritation at herself.  She dropped her tools and climbed off the scaffolding she was perched on, marching for the house.


Donald, Scrooge, her boys? That was... bad.


Della LOVED her family dearly, but it wasn't the healthiest of situations, lusting after her brother, uncle, and her own sons. She'd come to terms with her attraction to her twin years ago, but this level of lust was WEIRD.


Not for the tenth time today, Della realized that more than seven years without intercourse was WAY too long; and that she might need to bite the bullet and do a one night stand.... hopefully with someone OTHER than Launchpad.


She could NOT afford to complicate things any more than they were.  And using Launchpad (the only person around who WASN’T a member of her family) would be a bad choice for any number of reasons.  She liked him as a person and recognized his good heart and care for her family; but he was a profound idiot and annoyed the hell out of her.  Because of his lack of common sense, memory, and intelligence, she couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut about any dalliances they might have.  And worst of all, she knew the others would NEVER let her live it down for the rest of her life if they found out.


The duck made a beeline for Scrooge's office, hoping that she might have a word with him about maybe... going out for a trip... to Cape Suzette or Spoonerville or something…


Della climbed the steps and stopped in front of Scrooge's bedroom. She could hear something through the door. Frowning, the duck's curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the door.


"Unca Scrooge? Are you in--WAK!!"


Della had seen a lot in her life.  Her Uncle furiously masturbating to pornography was not one of those things.


Scrooge sat behind his desk, his legs kicked up onto it, rolling chair reclined. He was naked, wearing nothing but his top-hat. He was a mature male duck, with a lean, fit body, muscular from adventuring.


And a thick, veiny cock that rivalled the size of Della's arm. A cock that the aged man was rapidly pumping his fist up and down, the wrinkled loose foreskin rolling and gliding over his bulbous, mushroom-like head.


Clearly, her uncle was both a shower AND a grower, because Scrooge's penis was even larger than she thought it had been flaccid under his kilt. It had to be nearly a foot and a half long, and thicker than her wrist.  A vast web of veins crisscrossed the length, pulsing visibly, the thick member glistening with lubrication.


Scrooge's testicles were ENORMOUS, hanging low and heavy between his legs.  Della could swear that she could hear them gurgling and churning from all the way across the room. They hung, swollen and tight, enormous melon-sized orbs, visibly quivering with every stroke of Scrooge's fist.


"Ahhh...  G-Goldie..." he grunted, arching his hips.  Della blushed, feeling very awkward to have walked in on her uncle's self-pleasure to thoughts of his paramour.... and yet, she couldn't leave, couldn't close the door.


Scrooge's cock lurched, a thick rope of syrupy pre-ejaculate shooting from the tip, splattering to the floor. More pre spurted out, the fluid spewing out, drooling and dribbling, running down the duck's fat shaft.


Della swallowed heavily, watching her uncle masturbate. Her own penis stirred, tenting in her pants, growing stiff and turgid, straining against the leather.


Della couldn't move, her eyes locked on her uncle's fat, thick erection. Scrooge pumped his fist up and down the entire length, his fingers gliding effortlessly up and down his thick, slimy shaft.  He bucked his hips rhythmically, thrusting into his own hand.


Clear fluid drooled, bubbling up out of his slit, his thick, watery, clear precum frothing out the tip of his penis with every hump. Scrooge pumped, the room filling with lewd wet noises, the slap of his hand gliding over the sticky fluid coating his shaft.


Della watched, her beak agape, staring, her penis straining her leather pants, painfully erect. She was barely even aware of her actions, one wing drifting to her crotch, rubbing and cupping her bulge. Della leaned against the doorway for support, a dazed, stupefied look on her face as she watched, masturbating.


And then came a bigger shock.


"Donald.... Ah, yeah.  Bend that arse over, Donald... Suck it, laddie...." he groaned, arching his hips, more strings of syrupy clear pre dribbling from his fat, throbbing dick. The syrup drooled out his urethra, soaking his hand in thick fluid.


Della swallowed heavily, her throat working convulsively. Watching Scrooge masturbate to thoughts of Goldie was one thing. Watching Scrooge jerk to fantasies of her twin brother was something different and.... Della's cock throbbed...


Della rubbed harder, moaning softly, unable to pry her eyes away from Uncle Scrooge... unable to tear herself away, even as she stroked her own hard cock through her leather pants. Della huffed and bit her bill, her own pre-cum beginning to leak, dripping down her thigh.


And then came the biggest shock of all.


"Della, lassie...  Ahhh..."


He was masturbating to thoughts of HER.


Della froze. She just... stared, stunned. Her cock jumped in her pants as uncle Scrooge humped and shuddered and moaned her name.  It was too much to hear him say her name in pleasured lust, while he used both hands to pump that thick fat monster between his legs.


Della hadn't even realized he was in mid-orgasm until she felt her semen pour out of the cuffs of her pants. Her penis lurched violently, a thick jet blasting into the inside of her leathers. Della gasped and hunched forward, spurting again and again into her pants. Her cock exploded, pumping hot thick gelatinous duck spunk all over the inside of her pants in great ropey strands.


"Here it comes, Della, dear...  Just do yer best an' try ta keep up!" Scrooge groaned, shuddering as his orgasm swelled up and...


He came with a guttural groan of pleasure, throwing his head back, his testicles lurching and contracting. His penis erupted, a thick stream erupting out his fat shaft. Scrooge ejaculated in a thick ropey fountain, the spray splashing over the desk.  It ran off the other side and spilled on the floor, forming a puddle.


Scrooge moaned Della's name as he fountained literal pints per shot out his gaping slit, his semen flooding the desk and running onto the floor. The old duck's hips pumped in the throes of ecstasy, his cock spewing ropes and arcs, glutinous streams spraying everywhere. The paperwork on Scrooge's desk was doused in sticky cream, paper curling where thick globs splattered.


Della stared, mouth agape. She had been stunned by how large Scrooge was, but she was utterly flabbergasted by the size of his orgasm. Her own body trembled with her own ejaculation, which had absolutely SOAKED her underwear and crotch area, leaking out the cuffs of her pants and adding to the splatters on the carpet. Her underwear squelched and glutinously clung to her genitals, drenched in pearly duck cum.


Scrooge grunted, huffing, jerking faster and harder as a long arch flew halfway across the room, blasting up the wall and into a bookshelf.  All Della could imagine was that firehose inside her, filling her with steaming-hot gluey spunk, emptying his enormous, churning sack into her convulsing pussy...


Della fell to her knees (her left making a surprisingly loud clank on Scrooge's marble floor) as her climax hit her in an unstoppable wave, her body shuddering, her hips jerking and thrusting mindlessly, humping the empty air.  Her pussy clenched down on absolutely NOTHING, sending white-hot waves of pleasure surging through Della's body, her breath huffing and leaving her with loud moans, each wave of pleasure making her writhe.


Della slumped as her orgasm finally let her go, spots and stars before her eyes. She trembled, leaning against the wall next to Uncle Scrooge's door. Her hand was still cupping her pants.  A large sloshing pool was trapped in the leather crotch.


And then what she had done began to really dawn on her.


Della let out a curse and pulled her hand out of her crotch with lightning speed, leaping to her feet as she glanced back in the room... and her jaw went slack again, her beak hanging open to her chest.


Scrooge was still ejaculating. The puddle of semen around his desk grew, every splat of cum from his huge cockfountain only adding to the spreading ocean of pearly-white duck spooge.


Della... took off running. She ducked away, blushing hotly as she darted away, making a beeline for her room. Her cybernetic left leg clanked heavily on the ground, her prosthesis loud on the hardwood and marble.


Scrooge continued cumming, spurting strings all the way across his office. His head was still thrown back, his bill parted slightly, moaning her name…


Several minutes later, Scrooge opened the door, wiping sweat from his forehead.  His member still hung from his hips, still swollen and dribbling.


"Ach...  I dunno what's wrong with me, but I gotta get a grip," he mumbled to himself, "...Those kinds of thoughts are nae healthy.... an'... ACK!"


His foot came down with a wet splat in a puddle of cooling sticky fluid, splatters glazing the marble. He yanked his foot out, glancing at it... then down to the enormous sticky pool on his marble floor.


"...An' maybe I'm not the only one havin' unhealthy thoughts..." he mused...  But he pushed that to the back of his mind.  His first priority was finding a way to clean up the mess before Mrs. Beakley discovered it…


⁂


That night, another wave of purple energy washed through McDuck Manor as its inhabitants slept fitfully, tossing and turning in their sleep, their minds beset by lurid, lewd, impure fantasies.


As the purple magic rolled through them in their slumber, they twitched and humped, grinding against their pillows and mattress. Their genitalia twitched and engorged and stiffened, tents and lumps becoming prominent and evident.  


The nocturnal emissions started a moment later, their bodies wracked by the overwhelming lust and arousal. Their sheets grew soaked in sticky semen, dampening the fabric, droplets soaking their feathers, bubbling through.


The Statue of Priapus glowed, the purple haze of magical energy washing through the halls of McDuck Manor. Every mind was ripe and fertile for corruption.


The magic washed over the children, filling their dreams with lurid images and scenes. It filled them with the irresistible urge to mate, and the burning need to breed. The adults in the house were affected as well, twisting their minds, images of taboos and forbidden acts flashing across their sleep.


The arcane energies bent their minds, removing inhibitions, removing boundaries. The magic stripped away their inhibitions and modesty, twisting their subconscious minds, replacing their moral boundaries and boundaries with lewd, lascivious ones.


Lewd scenes flashed across sleeping minds, impure fantasies surging through their dreams. Every member of the McDuck Clan jerked and whimpered and moaned in their sleep. They all mumbled the same word in their orgasmic slumber, whimpering and groaning in their nocturnal emission:


"Priapus...  Priapus...  Priapus..."


Their minds surrendered completely, succumbing to the spell, their subconscious minds completely enraptured, their subconsciouses subjugated to Priapus. Their minds twisted, perverted, their morals replaced.


⁂