⁂


The next morning arrived much as the previous one did, though with a few changes.  There was less exhaustion, the members of the household feeling considerably more peppy than they had the day before… and strangely, much less embarrassment about the messes they had made in their sleep.


Breakfast was a little more lively as the table was populated by the household members who chatted happily.  The prominent bulges they had hidden from each other the day before were mostly ignored today, as it seemed… entirely normal.  

“Mrs. Beakley,” addressed Scrooge through a mouthful of toast and marmalade, “I was thinkin’.  The house has been a wee bit quiet of late.”

Mrs. Beakley stared at him with barely-masked sarcastic surprise, glancing over at the gaggle of children jabbering away nearby.  She crossed her arms over her large breasts, the nipples visibly poking into her shirt’s fabric.

“...Has it?” she asked sardonically.

“Indeed,” Scrooge said, either missing or choosing to ignore it, “I was thinkin’ we might throw a get-together.  A party or ball or somethin’ of the sort, maybe even lastin’ a couple o’ days with our friends and family.”

Beakley’s already downturned beak fell into a grimace, “...That is a lot of work, Mr. McDuck…”

“Ach, I never said I want ye ta do it alone.  We’ll all chip in, o’ course,” Scrooge said amiably.  At this, the children perked up.

“...I never agreed to help,” Louie said, frowning, “...Not without some sorta compensation!”

“Your compensation is I don’t ground you,” Della replied, not missing a beat as she sipped her orange juice.  Louie just had a frown of utter betrayal on his face as he looked at her.

“My own beloved mother, forcing me into child labor!” Louie gasped dramatically, clutching at his heart.

“Your own mother, teaching you to build some character,” Della shot back, smirking.

“...How come adults always use ‘building character’ as an excuse to make kids do unpleasant things?” Dewey grumbled, “I’ve got PLENTY of character already.”  

Della sighed.  How had she been cursed to have three smart-aleck sons?  

“...I could always just tell you to do it because I told you to do it,” she replied, “Tautologies are fun.”

Thankfully, Webby chimed in, grinning, “I’ll help!  I’m HAPPY to help!”

At this, Beakley looked a little stricken.  Webby’s over-energetic enthusiasm could be as much of a hindrance as a help when it came to detail-oriented work like party-planning.  

“I guess I can use my magic to help cut down on the work too,” Lena offered, trying her best to sound reluctant, while also clearly happy to help.  At this, Beakley relaxed a little. Lena was much more level-headed than her granddaughter and could be trusted to keep the destruction to a minimum and the constructive work to a reasonable rate.


"Well.  We'll divide up the tasks and get ta work then, shall we?" said Scrooge, standing up from the table.  His kilt shifted as he did so, exposing the outline of his large cock. Della's eyes flicked to it, feeling her body flush with heat.

She wasn't the only one who seemed to notice.  Donald was staring open-mouthed, apparently transfixed, a piece of egg hanging off his fork. His penis was tenting his pants as well, the large bulge sticking out.


Heat flushed Della’s body as she imagined both Scrooge AND Donald taking her right there at the dining room table in front of EVERYONE. She squirmed and bit her tongue, forcing herself to push those lurid, perverted thoughts to the back of her mind.


"Come on, guys!" she called cheerily, pushing away from the table.  She had no thought of hiding her own arousal as she adjusted her penis in her pants, making the obscene bulge blatantly obvious... and seemingly unconcerned, "Let's get to it! First thing's first: decorations!"


And, thankfully, none of the other family members seemed to mind that they were all aroused and tenting their clothes. The kids followed along, Lena and Webby chatting cheerily, Dewey and Louie seeming to bicker about something, and Huey's beak buried in his book...


Della couldn't help but feel an enormous sense of pride watching the three boys she'd given life to grow up and interact with each other... and a very lewd thrill as her eyes lingered on her sons' crotches and rumps, her imagination running away from her.


⁂


Up ahead of the rest of the family, Scrooge smiled to himself, sauntering down the hall, swaying his rear.  Given his generally antisocial, grumpy nature, it felt odd to want to be around more people...  but for some reason, he had a feeling that a party might be just what the doctor ordered.

He felt a strange heat coursing through him, the duck idly rubbing his lower belly. It wasn't the worst pain... just a strange... restlessness and burning need.

Scrooge's genitals twitched in his pants, the ancient duck's shaft swelling. It felt so hot. He was so turned on. For some reason, he was SO aroused. He felt so lewd, his penis stiff and erect and turgid...

"Mrs. Beakley!  If I could talk to ye about our party plans," Scrooge called out as the family gathered in the main hall, Donald and Della heading off with their kids. Beakley turned,  looking at him, her breasts jiggling under her dress.  Was it Scrooge's imagination or were they... bigger?

"...Y-Ye got a minute? In my office?" he managed, biting his tongue, feeling an immense heat rush through him.

He had a vague, hazy feeling of being... somehow influenced. That maybe something was... not right. And yet, he felt an almost irresistible NEED to breed. It was so strange...

Maybe after his... talk... with Beakley, he'd look into it.  If he remembered.


⁂

 
Della sighed as she dusted in the entrance hall, watching her twin brother stand precariously on a ladder.  He’d already fallen three times, and it looked like a fourth was imminent as he leaned out to try to swipe his duster over a bust.  She couldn’t understand how he was so accident-prone.

Worse, the position gave her a perfect view of his pants, and depending on his position, either his surprisingly delightful rear end or his bulging crotch. Either was distracting, her body flushed with heat, her penis stiffening in her pants, her panties growing damp.


Della HAD to distract herself. It was likely that it was gonna cause her brother another concussion by distracting him and causing a fall, but she decided to break the awkward silence.


“Soooo….” Della began.  Donald, ever a duck of few words, given his usually unintelligible speech, glanced down at her curiously, still trying to take a swipe at the bust.

“...How’re Daisy, May, and June doing on their vacation?” she asked, trying to find an innocuous topic, “Are they coming back soon?”

“Uh-huh!  Tomorrow!” Donald quacked, giving a smile, “I’ve missed them!”


“I bet,” Della said, chuckling, “They’ve been gone, what… a week now?”

“Uh-huh.  It’s been lonely in the houseboat,” Donald said, “...I’ve had nothing but my wing for company.  Made a big mess…”

“Yeah, I… wait, what?” Della said, doing a double take, unsure she heard what her brother had just admitted.


Donald froze, seemingly realizing what he just admitted to. He turned his head, a blush rising to his face, the duck beginning to babble and quack rapidly, the usual unintelligible Donald-Speak, a torrent of panicked, rapid-fire unintelligible gibberish.


Della stared at him, her face a mask of befuddlement, trying to process what Donald had just admitted. A lewd image of Donald stroking himself filled her head, his wing sliding up and down that thick, fat length of his, pre bubbling from the tip. Della could almost hear Donald moaning her name, the gluey spatter of his fountaining hot semen.


Della flushed red.


And then, she realized she was imagining her OWN brother masturbating… and to her own name.


"Forget it, forget it. We're both adults and we're siblings. We should be able to be... uh... comfortable talking about this kinda thing..." Della said, mostly to get Donald to stop quacking in panic, "I mean... when I'm lonely, I'm not ashamed to say I take care of myself too. It's healthy!"

Donald seemed to calm down a little, still blushing furiously, his cock tenting his pants as he looked at her, his duster forgotten in his hand.

"I mean... I've already done it three times this morning, and was planning on making an excuse to go do it a fourth once I finish this section of the hall," Della said... and stopped as she couldn't believe that A: she had just said that to her BROTHER, and B: she didn't feel any embarassment about admitting it.

At that, Donald returned to blathering, his beak flapping rapidly, the duck waving his hands. Della sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  And sure enough, the ladder began to teeter precariously as her brother had forgotten he was balancing on a narrow ladder as he gestured wildly in his panic.

Della was NOT strong enough to catch him. Her wing grabbed at him, but all she could do was break his fall as the two adult ducks landed in a sprawl.

Donald landed on top of her, with a painful feathery THUD. Della's back impacted the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She saw stars, wheezing, her head ringing, laying on the hardwood floor.

Della tried to get her breath back, seeing stars, her head ringing. Her wing went up, rubbing the back of her head, the adult duck groaning in pain.

When her vision came back... She was staring at the head of Donald's penis, having slipped free of the waistband of his pants. It was so... big. Large. The tip was shiny pink and smooth, glistening, the glans covered in her twin's foreskin.

And its tip was right over her beak.

And judging from the alternating sensation of cool air followed by rhythmic puffs of warm air, Donald was... panting heavily, breathing on her head. Della tilted her head and could see her erection sticking out of her pants, and Donald's eyes locked on it, his eyes glassy and half-lidded with lust.

And before Della could do anything, Donald huffed and moaned, his penis pulsing. Thick, pearly ropes spattered and splattered Della's face.

Della laid there, her eyes wide, as her face was spattered in pearly, white-hot spunk. String after sticky strand of her brother's thick semen coated her face, running down her cheeks.

"Don-! Oomph!"

Della's rebuke was muffled as Donald's semen glued her beak shut and splattered her face.  Donald's quacking moans filled the air as his body was wracked by a premature orgasm, spurting rope after stringy arching rope all over Della's face.

Thick, viscous duck cum splattered and splashed, coating Della's face, the sticky fluid running down her cheeks, drooling and trickling into her feathers. Donald groaned, his hips humping, the duck's orgasm making his entire body tremble.

Thick, heavy wads splashed and spattered, thick strands hanging from Della's nose, her brow, and eyelids. Pearly-white gelatinous duck semen splattered, sticky and clinging, the thick fluid glutinously drooling and running, dripping off her forehead.  It felt like getting hit point blank with a garden hose on full blast, spraying hot mayonnaise all over her beak and face.

It took Della four tries to get her mouth open to draw breath and gasp out, "Good LORD, Donald!"

Donald quacked something unintelligible that might have been an apology.  All Della could see was his cock lurching violently, his fat testicles churning and contracting as Donald spurted another arc all over her forehead, the duck's hips humping, his body shaking with pleasure.

"Seriously, DONALD--mmph!" Della sputtered as another jet splashed and spattered against her lips and all over her chin, the sticky fluid flooding her mouth. Della coughed and choked, her throat working convulsively.  Thick gluey duck cum flooded her mouth, choking her, filling her mouth.

Della had to swallow or drown in Donald's semen, and reluctantly gulped it down. Her eyes went wide.  It was salty and sweet and creamy and GOOD. Della gulped reflexively, Donald's semen spilling down her throat, the duck moaning and huffing, grinding his hard cockhead against her beak.

Della eagerly began to drink from her brother's member, wrapping her beak around his tip, Donald shuddering and quacking, spurting another mouthful into her mouth. Della couldn't stop herself as she nursed on Donald's tip, sucking, swallowing his load.

"WAK!" Donald yelped, feeling warmth, wetness, and firmness surround his flesh, "Della, w-what are you doing?!"

Della couldn't answer with Donald's thick shaft filling her beak, his massive glans resting on her tongue, pumping spunk down her throat.  She moaned in delight, bobbing her head, nursing on Donald's cocktip.

Donald shuddered and quacked helplessly, spurting another jet down Della's throat, the duck bucking his hips. His testicles bounced and sloshed audibly, pumpinng more and more semen into Della's beak.

Donald trembled, his penis lurching, his body trembling, his hips humping, grinding his tip against her tongue. Della drank and drank, Donald's spunk flooding her belly, her stomach growing bloated and swollen.

Della could do nothing but nurse and suck and swallow as her brother's feathered balls bounced off her chin.  She could feel her own erection tensing, but sheer determination not to embarass herself like her more hapless brother kept her from losing control.

Donald slumped forward after another minute, his feathered cheek sliding down her swollen length.  Della winced and grit her beak, having to tense her pelvic muscles.

"Ah... D-Della, sorry!" Donald gasped, climbing off her, horrified as he watched his incredibly thick white gelatinous cum run down her feathers and face, "I... I couldn't control myself! It just...! You were under me and... and--"

Donald babbled, his penis hanging out of his pants, glistening with saliva. Della couldn't resist staring at her brother's penis, the duck's shaft long and thick, his foreskin peeling back over his head.

"...Geez, Donald, you spurt almost as much as Uncle Scrooge does," Della remarked, wiping her sopping wet bangs out of her eyes.

"And I couldn't stop myself and... wait what?"

It was Donald's turn to do a double take, as he stared at her, disconcerted.  There was an awkward silence, before he asked, "...Whaddya mean I spurt as much as Unca Scrooge?"
Della flushed, realizing she had admitted to seeing Scrooge ejaculating as well.

"Ahhh... I kinda accidentally walked in on Uncle Scrooge... masturbating... yesterday," Della admitted, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, "...He was kinda... um... moaning about Goldie... and me... and... you."

Donald flushed, a blush rising to his bill.

"And then he finished, and... well... it was like a firehose going off. It flooded his desk," Della admitted, "...Even at my most pent-up on the moon, I don't think I've gushed half that much cum."

Donald's cock twitched and lurched, the duck huffing, his member swelling again, his fat shaft growing thick and turgid. Della stared openly, licking her bill as she stared at her brother's enormous genitalia.

"Geez, no wonder the houseboat is such a mess..." Della grumbled, wiping her eyes, her brother's cum matting her feathers, "...I can only imagine how long it takes you to clean it after you gush...."

"Hmph! ...It's not THAT messy," Donald retorted defensively.

Della wiped cum off her beak, staring at the gelatinous pearly fluid all over her wing. ...Why did it taste so good? Why did it feel so weird to NOT be disgusted or embarrassed to be spattered in her twin brother's seed?

"Della..." Donald said, breaking her out of her reverie, the duck wringing his hands, his penis lurching and twitching, his foreskin taut around his swollen head, his thick, veiny shaft glistening in the light.

"...Do you... think we should.... maybe... y'know," he began hesitantly, "...T-to... blow off steam..."
Della stared, a blush rising to her cheeks.


"....Ahhh.... y-you mean... m-me and you...?" Della managed to stammer, the idea feeling both ludicrous, absurd, and VERY arousing.


Donald flushed, a blush rising to the duck's face... and a blush rising to Della's penis, her thick shaft throbbing and twitching.


Donald fidgeted. "I-I... mean... y'know. N-No feelings or anything, just... two adults, trying to... to relieve ourselves..."


Della swallowed heavily. She WAS insanely horny. Her mind whirled with lurid, lewd thoughts. She was sorely tempted, staring at her twin brother's massive length.


"...I'm down," she finally managed, a lewd grin on her beak, her own dick hardening rapidly, her turgid, stiff flesh beginning to tent her pants, "It's just for our own health, y'know."


And with that, she shucked her shirt, exposing her breasts to her brother. Donald stared, his beak falling open, his eyes lingering on them.


Della couldn't help but enjoy his reaction, cupping them, bouncing them for him. Della was... rather proud of them. They weren't ENORMOUS, by any means, but they were still pretty big for a woman of her body type... and the attention from him felt nice.


"What, you've never seen tits before?" Della couldn't help but remark wryly as she peeled off the rest of her clothing.


"S-sometimes!" Donald squeaked.


Della groaned in relief as she dropped her pants, allowing her fat, erect shaft to spring free.  The cool air of the entrance hall wafted over her overheated, aching pussy, cooling the burning heat. Donald stared openly, his bill hanging open, staring at the enormous shaft hanging from Della's hips.


Della smirked proudly at his attention, giving a waggle of the eyebrows.


Donald's eyes locked onto his sister's cock, Della's penis throbbing and pulsing.


"What? Like what ya see?" she said smugly, flexing, making it twitch. Donald quacked, flushed with color.


Della was... honestly somewhat astonished that she was standing there, stark naked, in the ENTRANCE HALL where literally ANYONE could walk in on them with HER TWIN BROTHER... and was not even embarassed. Not mortified.


"...Well?" Della asked, wrapping a hand around her shaft, tugging it. She moaned as Donald watched, "...Like what ya see?"


Later, reliving the events, Della would claim that she heard an audible SNAP come from somewhere in Donald's head.  His face turned red, but in a very different manner than embarrassment.  An angry vein bulged in Donald's forehead, the duck letting out a guttural, primal, enraged quack.


Della sweatdropped.  Her brother's "rage mode" was something she'd learned to respect.  His temper tantrums made his enemies cower in fear. This... was something similar but quite different. Donald's penis throbbed angrily, seeming to expand a full inch larger than normal.  A web of veins bulged across it, throbbing visibly. His cocktip darkened, seeming to swell, a steady oozing dribble of pre drooling out of Donald's urethra.


"...Donald--!" Della began.


And then, Donald rushed at Della, leaping upon his sister.


Della was a highly capable adventurer. She could hold a job. She had defeated countless adversaries and foes and monsters in battles and duels and combat... and yet, there was simply no preparation for being tackled by an aroused, enraged twin brother.


Donald was on top of Della again, the larger adult woman letting out a huff as his weight knocked the wind out of them. Della let out a squawk as Donald gripped his shaft, angling his penis towards the gaping, twitching mouth of his sister's sex.


Donald gripped his shaft, ramming forward. Della's eyes crossed, the female duck letting out a high-pitched keen as she was split open, Donald's immense, enormous cocktip spreading apart the tiny entrance to Della's cunny. Donald shoved forward, grunting, his huge, thick cockhead popping past Della's entrance with a meaty SMACK.


Donald thrust forward, groaning as he drove himself into Della, slamming his penis into his twin sister's sex. Della yelped in surprise, the duck's eyes crossing as Donald hilted himself in a single powerful stroke, burying himself to the balls into his sister. He groaned, feeling Della's tight inner walls convulsing around his shaft, the duck gripping Donald's fat, throbbing member.


Della's cunny clung to him, milking and stroking his fat cocktip, gripping the thick shaft, Donald's thick, turgid flesh pulsing visibly through Della's belly. Della let out a quack, moaning and shuddering as Donald bottomed out into his sister.


Della's beak hung open, stars and lights bursting before her eyes as she was stuffed to the brim.  It had been over eight years since she had a penis inside her.  Dildos, vibrators, her own fingers, certainly... but none of them compared to the real thing. It was hot and hard and pulsed, throbbing inside of Della, Donald's massive cocktip spreading apart Della's innards.


Donald huffed, pulling back, his penis glistening with his twin's clear, syrupy fluids. It made his cock slide slickly through Della, pulling his foreskin back, the duck's glans shining a glossy pink.
Donald pulled his hips back, groaning as he withdrew. Della's pussy clung to his length, gripping him, gripping him so tight it was almost painful. The head of his penis slipped out, a meaty pop sounding. Della let out a low, soft keening whimper, a low, mournful noise at being empty.


And then, Donald RAMMED forward again, and Della screamed out, the female duck's eyes rolling up into the back of her head.


Donald thrust again, pulling back and slamming forward, humping. Della's eyes rolled back, the duck gasping and quacking out a garbled cry. Her brother was a blur of motion, a steady slap of flesh on flesh as he hilted himself inside his sister.


Donald was quacking at her, which she assumed was some sort of dirty talk, but... quite frankly, it was incomprehensible Donald-Speak. Which, under normal circumstances, Della might be able to somewhat understand... but not while Donald was jackhammering into Della, the female duck moaning, writhing, whimpering underneath him.


Della had been so pent up and lonely that any attention to her pussy was sending Della out of her mind, quacking and writhing underneath Donald's larger adult form. Her pussy gripped and squeezed and clenched, clamping down on the massive bulk of pulsing, rock-hard, hot flesh inside Della, throbbing through the underside of her belly.


It was... honestly hard to remember that the penis inside Della belonged to her twin brother. That she was laying on the entryway to McDuck Manor, legs spread, screaming, quacking and howling like a lunatic. She couldn't even form the words to tell him to stop, to slow down, because it all felt SO GOOD.


She gripped her penis, jerking herself, matching Donald's rhythm, moaning and squirming and writhing in utter euphoria. Her wing slid up and down, sliding over the slick, lubricated flesh, spattering herself with precum.  


That said, while writhing in delight, she wasn't going to let her brother get the best of her.  She wasn't the type to just lie back and take it. She wasn't gonna just surrender to Donald and moan like a porn star.


Della gripped his shoulder and, in one swift motion, rolled over, pinning Donald under HER. The female duck straddled him, grabbing his wrists, pinning Donald under HER.
It wasn't that Donald was a weakling by any means, mind. Donald's rage was formidable in a fight... but he was more inclined to just blunder his way through, punching, swinging, yelling... not thinking his way out of a situation.


Della was the brains AND brawn of the family.


She rode his hips, moaning as her cock slapped against his stomach, pre spattering all over Donald's torso. Her beak parted, huffing and panting, Della moaning and grinding herself onto Donald's dick. Her cunny clenched and squeezed around him, the duck moaning, whimpering.
Donald seemed stunned by the sudden role reversal, a red blush rising to his face. ...But his temper tantrum had not yet burnt itself out, the duck continuing to hump into Della. His hips pistoned up and down, pounding into his twin sister, Della bouncing atop him.


Donald thrust up into his sister, hammering upwards, ramming himself into the older twin. Della was unprepared for the sheer speed and force, and with a loud quack, she was thrown forward, landing sprawled on Donald's chest.


The two adult ducks were now a heap on the hardwood floor, entangled in each other's limbs, the sound of flesh slapping on flesh and the squelching of a wet cunny resounding through the entrance hall.


Della rode him, throwing her head back as his iron-hard shaft ground against her clitoris, sending bolts of electricity through Della's body. Donald's hips slammed up into Della, shaking her slender frame, Della's breasts jiggling from the force.  It took all her concentration and she had never been happier to have the strength of her cybernetic prosthetic left leg in keeping herself planted. Otherwise, she'd likely have been thrown halfway across the hall from Donald's thrusts.


Della bounced, riding him, grinding herself against Donald's pubic bone, his penis hammering into Della's body. Her clit was rubbed raw, every nerve on fire, Della's cock pulsing and twitching and throbbing, dripping strands of pre all over Donald.


Della threw back her head, her white hair cascading behind her as she moaned to the ceiling.  


Della wasn't exactly a virgin.  Yes, it had been a LONG eight years of celibacy, but before that, she'd had partners aplenty, male and female, including the father of her kids.


But she had NEVER had a penis as good as Donald's. The fact that her twin brother was the absolute BEST she'd ever had was both horrifying AND strangely exhilarating. It should feel wrong and twisted, incestuous... but all Della felt was pleasure and joy and excitement and delight.


Her wing wrapped around Donald's neck, gripping him. Della pressed their chests together, pressing their bodies flush, feeling his heartbeat, feeling every huff of breath, their sweat mingling, every inch of their bodies touching. Della quacked, feeling Donald's testicles churning between his thighs, throbbing with every stroke.


It felt so RIGHT, so GOOD, Della's mind filled with lurid, lewd, depraved thoughts. It was so good, so incredible, feeling that thick shaft buried in Della, splitting the female duck open, stretching her wider than she'd ever felt.


Della began to join Donald in babbling incoherently.  Where he was quacking and raging in incomprehensible fury; she was begging her brother to cum, fill her up until her stomach was a beach ball, make her spray like a fire-hose…


Donald's penis began to twitch inside of Della, throbbing and pulsing inside of Della. His testicles lurched between his thighs, sloshing and churning audibly.  He gripped her hips tight, his wing-fingers digging into Della's feathery hips.


And then, Donald RAMMED forward one final time, his cocktip buried to the base, his balls contracting. He quacked out a low, husky moan, his penis pulsing and spasming. His penis erupted, spattering Della's insides with thick, hot semen.


It was just as intense as Della hoped and feared it would be; an absolutely torrential flood of Donald's seed, his cocktip throbbing against Della's deepest reaches, spurting inside her womb, filling his sister rapidly. Della's eyes widened, feeling every pump and spurt of Donald's cum, filling the older duck's pussy. She could feel the force of it, drumming against her cervix, hammering against the deepest depths of Della's cunny.


Della literally saw stars as her orgasm hit. Her own penis erupted, ropes of hot seed spattering Donald, running in white streams over the duck's chest and stomach. Donald barely reacted to the sprays of gluey, sticky seed all over his chest and stomach, chin and beak.  He snarled, his eyes bloodshot with fury and lust.  On the positive side, Della's semen splattered into his bill and glued his mouth shut, stopping his gibberish tirade... on the negative, Donald just grunted, pumping and spurting even MORE semen into his twin.


White foam dripped down Della's thighs and ran down Donald's balls, thick semen backwashing out of Della's womb.  She could feel the thick goo sloshing around inside of herself, a heavy, sloshy, viscous fluid filling her belly.  Della's belly grew round and swollen, Donald's cum inflating his twin's stomach, his sister growing heavier and heavier.


Della groaned, feeling like she was being pumped full of molasses. She could feel every rope and jet and spurt and blast of his seed. Della groaned, rubbing the round, tight, bulging surface, feeling it churn and slosh, the pressure mounting.  Each time his penis lurched, it sent her into a fresh wave of convulsions, her inner walls clamping and convulsing and milking, wringing out more and more of Donald's seed.


Donald's upper body was soaked in Della's sticky, gluey semen, the white strands dripping from his chin and forehead, the duck's mouth still glued shut by his sister's seed.  Her cock pulsated violently as streams of white fluid flew across the entrance hall, splattering the floor and furniture.


Della's body shuddered and shook, feeling his seed flooding and filling, every jet and spurt and pump and pulse of Donald's penis, every gush and rope and burst of his seed. It was incredible. Incredible, and far too much.


Della was sure that any second, Donald would be spent and satisfied, his balls drained. Any second now, the flood of his seed would dry up, and the torrential flow would stop, she would not be inflating like a balloon.


Any second now.


Any second.


Any–


Good LORD, how pent up WAS Donald?!!  How did Daisy handle this on a regular basis?!!


Donald's glans pulsed against Della's cervix, throbbing against the tiny entrance, pouring jets of semen. There was no hope of keeping track of the seconds passing, every second a minute, every minute an hour, a year... every jet and gush of his semen a tide, filling Della.


She couldn't take it.  If he kept it up, he was going to make her cum again.  She was already rendered a half-gibbering wreck from her FIRST orgasm; if she wasn't knocked out by a second, she certainly would be rendered non compos mentis.


Della groaned and lifted herself.  It took quite a bit of effort, his semen had glued his cock inside her; but she managed to work herself free. With an enormous, utterly obscene SLLLLLLUUURRRP, Donald's glans slid free of Della's entrance, and immediately began launching fountains of seed into the air.


Della gasped as she lifted herself off, feeling the enormous flood of semen pour out of herself, splattering the floor with gelatinous white glop. Cum drooled and poured from between Della's thighs, a massive, oozing deluge, sloshing out of the duck's well-saturated cunny.


The female duck sat down, unable to get onto her feet.  She gripped her own cock, milking it as it continued to spasm; though her orgasm was finally winding down. She reached over and began to pump his member, delighting in the hot rushing pulse that ran through the fat, turgid organ, Donald huffing and quacking, his body shuddering, his hips pumping.


And then as Donald's shots of semen grew less powerful and less voluminous, a slow change came over the male.  The angry vein in his forehead smoothed out and vanished.  His jaw relaxed and his beak took on a silly pleasured grin.  The crimson flush receded from his face.  His eyes, blazing with fury turned hazy and blissful...


...Then horrified.


Donald suddenly seemed to become aware of the fact that he had been balls-deep inside of his SISTER, having had sexual congress.... and unloaded a quite frankly supernatural amount of fluids into her.  And over her.  And over everything in a nearly fifteen foot radius.


He began to splutter in raw panic, and Della reached out and pinched his beak shut to cut off another Donald-Speak rampage.


"Seriously, chill. Don't freak," Della said firmly, "It's OK, it's no big deal."


"M-mwww-mwmph! Mmm-mwow-waw-wooowwww-mmmmmwow!" Donald quacked rapidly.


"Donald, I'm gonna need you to take a few deep breaths," she said, trying to ignore the way her own heart was hammering in her chest as the reality of the situation dawned on her.  She'd heard the phrase "post-orgasmic clarity" before, but doubted that anyone had felt it quite like THIS...


Donald nodded rapidly, his cock still spurting, Della gripping him and stroking, milking out the last of his climax.  He began to inhale and exhale, and Della waited until he looked like he had regained some semblance of composure before she released his beak.


"...W-What'd I DO?!" Donald quacked.


"WE..." and Della paused here to emphasize that word, "...just had the most amazing sex of my life and coated the entrance hall with semen."


"Della, you're my SISTER!!" Donald quacked, panic creeping back into his voice.


"Look, relax, you were in a... a weird fit, and..." and here Della realized there was no good explanation for what they'd done, "...We... y'know... succumbed to... a... moment... of lust and... um... weakness. We were pent up, you were stressed, I was horny..."


She trailed off, the two adult ducks both seeming to realize at the same time that Donald's penis was still pulsing and spurting a few jets of pearly seed into the air. Della stared, watching it, and was vaguely surprised that after how much seed Donald had emptied into her pussy, he STILL had any left.


"...Della, are ya gonna stop stroking me any time soon?" Donald quacked weakly.


"Huh? Oh! YEAH," Della said, sheepishly releasing Donald's penis, "Uh... sorry..."


Donald's huge penis continued to twitch, but he sighed in relief, backing just out of arm's reach from his sister... apparently as much for her benefit as his.


They were left in a state of utter ruin. Della and Donald's respective climaxes had turned the entrance hall into a swamp of sticky white seed. The twins were both absolutely soaked with semen, Donald coated nearly head to toe and Della from chest to knees, the two of them absolutely drenched in each other's fluids.


"...So uh... what next?" Donald asked, deferring to his sister's calmer head.  Della wished that assumption was true; the truth was that her head was spinning with a mixture of panic and lust still.  


"We are going to take the quickest cold showers of our lives, then we are going to run back here with as many towels, mops, and buckets as we can carry," Della said, "And if we can't get back before someone discovers this mess, neither you nor I know ANYTHING about it, got it?"
Donald nodded rapidly, but then asked the question that Della really wished he wouldn't.


"....And you and me?"


"...Will discuss this at a later date when we're not covered in our own jizz, Donald," Della said, rubbing the bridge of her beak, feeling a headache coming on.


She was NOT looking forward to discussing the elephant in the room.


⁂


"Get ready, Mrs. Beakley... I cannae hold back... much longer..." Scrooge growled out, feeling Mrs. Beakley's breasts wrap around his shaft. Scrooge leaned against the wall, the elderly male duck groaning, his bill parted. The enormous drooling glans of his penis poked out from her cavernous cleavage. Her enormous soft, plump breasts engulfed him, squeezing tight around Scrooge.


Mrs. Beakley looked up at Scrooge over the rim of her glasses expectantly.  The goose considered it part of her duties to tend to Scrooge's carnal desires whenever he requested. To be fair to him, he was a gentleman and only rarely required her tending.  He tried not to take advantage (though she had on occasion forced it upon him when his libido clouded his better judgement).


Given the frankly obscene amount of money he paid her, she thought it well within the bounds of fairness. She did not consider tending to Scrooge's penis to be demeaning.


Mrs. Beakley would always try to be efficient in servicing the male duck. This meant no undue caresses with the palms, or fondling, or any unnecessary foreplay. ...Usually, at least. On occasion, the goose would admit to a little bit of enjoyment to this, taking a perverse thrill at dominating one of the greatest adventurers in the world and the richest man in the world and reduce him to a gibbering, senseless wreck.


"If we could move this along," Mrs. Beakley suggested dryly as Scrooge began to pump his hips, moaning and quacking, thrusting up through the goose's cleavage, his enormous glans poking out between the soft, feathery breasts of the goose woman.  Her penis was rock hard, aching as she drooled a steady clear stream of fluid onto the floor... but being the utmost professional, she refused to touch herself, instead focusing on Scrooge's needs.


Mrs. Beakley began to rock and bounce, sliding up and down, Scrooge moaning, the elderly male duck panting. Thick veins bulged along the underside of his turgid length, the goose staring as his penis visibly throbbed, the male's shaft pulsing, Scrooge huffing and moaning.


"Jus' another second..." groaned Scrooge, closing his eyes.  His enormous balls were tightening to the base of his cock, his entire body tensing with the NEED to climax, Scrooge groaning.


Mrs. Beakley sighed, trying very hard to keep the facade that she was bored, unmoved, and unaroused as Scrooge bucked and humped. She kept bouncing, squeezing, pressing those enormous, heavy, buxom breasts around the ancient male duck's thick shaft.


"Unnnnghhh... Della...." Scrooge moaned out, his eyes rolling back into the back of his head. His enormous penis lurched, throbbing. Mrs. Beakley quirked an eyebrow, but did not have time to comment before her face was SPLATTERED with a thick jet of gluey, syrupy seed.


Scrooge groaned, quacking and huffing, thrusting. His enormous glans lanced out, spearing Mrs. Beakley in the cheek and nose. He began to squirt, jets of hot, thick, ropey white semen spurting across the goose's face. His cock jerked between her feathered breasts, visibly pulsating as Scrooge spurted ropes all over the elderly woman.


Mrs. Beakley sighed again. The only thing to do now was just let Scrooge ride out his orgasm, continuing to hump her chest and pinch her nipples in his hands.  As a thick, gluey glob ran down her cheek, not for the first time she mused about the fortune she could make selling a vial of the trillionaire's spunk on the black market...


And as always, realized she'd make far more just staying loyal in service to the male duck than she'd make in scamming him out of a pint.


Mrs. Beakley had a great deal of patience. However, it did wear thin sitting for upwards of a half-hour being spattered with jets and bursts of Scrooge's seed, the male bucking his hips, groaning and huffing. Mrs. Beakley's bill was glued shut from Scrooge's seed, forcing the butler-bodyguard to breathe through the nose, a low, muffled, annoyed huff through the nostrils.


Finally, after a half-hour of Scrooge writhing and groaning, quacking and cumming... he finally began to wind down, his orgasmic spurts and jets diminishing and ending. Mrs. Beakley sat patiently, cum running down every inch of herself. She sat, still and patient, waiting until Scrooge was finally SPENT...


Her gray hair was milky white.  She could not see a thing through her glasses, having lenses splattered with Scrooge's semen. Her clothes were all but glued to herself. Scrooge quacked, the elderly duck leaning against the wall, panting and huffing.


Mrs. Beakley slowly rose, grabbing a cleaning rag from Scrooge's desk and using them to do the best she could to clean her glasses.  She let her employer recover, his body trembling with the force of his afterglow, penis still stiff and spilling milky fluid to the floor.


"...Ahem... Della?" Mrs. Beakley asked, eyeing him.


Anyone else who hadn't known Scrooge for decades would have missed the imperceptible freeze, the hitch in his breath, and slight widening of his eyes.


"...What about 'er?" he asked innocently.


"...You just said her name right before you orgasmed, sir," Mrs. Beakley responded cooly, arching an eyebrow.


"...I did nae such thing!" Scrooge snapped, his cock throbbing, another glob of semen dropping to the floor, his face flushing red.


"...I see," she said, slowly, "Perhaps I was mistaken.  My apologies, sir."


Scrooge glared at the goose woman balefully, the female returning his look evenly. Scrooge's bill hung open, panting heavily, his eyes narrowing at Mrs. Beakley. His erection refused to wane, throbbing visibly, Scrooge's enormous, turgid length twitching angrily.


Scrooge had no idea how Mrs. Beakley's feathers managed to still look dignified, elegant, and refined, coated in semen and all but glued to the goose woman's curves. Her huge bosom, which Scrooge now refused to even LOOK at, was absolutely painted with Scrooge's semen. 


...Though that may have also been because Scrooge was terrified if he stared at Mrs. Beakley's bare, glistening breasts for too long, he'd end up losing his mind and ravishing the goose woman again.


"Well. If I am done, I am going to go clean myself up, and then I have to check on the boys.  No doubt the triplets are causing no small amount of chaos and destruction in their attempts to help prepare the house for this... party," Beakley said primly.


"...Ach, tha' lads..." Scrooge muttered, "No doubt yer right about that..."


Beakley gave him an arch look. "I would suggest you clean up as well, sir."


Mrs. Beakley began to strip as she walked towards the door, slowly peeling off a ruined uniform, letting Scrooge glimpse the goose woman's naked backside. Scrooge quacked, his face burning red, feeling his member twitching angrily. Scrooge felt an urge to lunge and pin Mrs. Beakley against the floor, and instead had to squeeze his shaft, trying to keep it down.


Beakley opened the door and left, leaving a trail of cum behind herself, leaving Scrooge slumped against his desk, panting, his enormous cock twitching angrily.


Mrs. Beakley strode down the hallway, nude and sopping with Scrooge's sperm. ...The maid could only imagine how utterly obscene she must look to anyone watching. Cum ran down every inch of herself, painting the goose woman from head to toe. Scrooge had really outdone himself today...


The elderly woman was proud that not a shred of embarrassment showed as she sauntered down the corridor. She did not care whether or not anyone else was aroused at the sight.


Mrs. Beakley was halfway out of Scrooge's office door when it occurred to the female that, upon leaving Scrooge's bedroom without having gotten dressed...  That... wasn't normal... was it?


Meanwhile, Scrooge himself was having a similar struggle with his mental state. On one hand, he was groaning in frustration over his desire to plow Mrs. Beakley until his desk collapsed under their weight....


And on the other, the fact that he'd slipped up and called out the REAL person's name he was thinking about when he was about to cum.


...Della.


Della. His niece.  His niece whom he had secretly desired since she was a hatchling.


"Ach.  Get HOLD of yerself, McDuck," Scrooge grumbled to himself, slapping his fluffy cheeks, "Ye were pent up, ye old coot."

And yet… For the last two days, he could hardly think of anything else other than ravishing every inch of her.  Even now…

Scrooge shook his head hard, actively trying to dislodge the thoughts.  Hopefully the party preparations would distract him…


⁂






-Louie sneaks off to research some porn online, discovered by Dewey and Huey. who get distracted by the porn and start jacking off as a group. Get walked-in on by Mrs. Beakley, gangbang ensues.


"Where the heck is Louie?" grumbled Huey as he and Dewey lugged boxes of decorations into the dining hall.


"Probably trying to avoid working," huffed Dewey, the duck grunting as the enormous box of streamers he was carrying nearly tipped over, his little boy wings struggling with the weight.


"He could at least HELP us, though," grumbled Huey, huffing and puffing, the duck boy nearly falling over with his own box.  He adjusted his red cap, brushing dust bunnies off his polo shirt. Huey and Dewey set the boxes down, groaning in relief. The two seven year old boys huffed and puffed, rubbing their backs. They took a moment to recover, straightening up.


"Maybe we should take a break?" Huey suggested wearily.


Dewey nodded, panting. "Yeah. Maybe. ...Let's go look for Louie."


The two young boys looked around for any track of where their third sibling had gone.  He had begged off to go to the bathroom earlier.  Given his propensity for goofing off, it was a safe bet that he had started doing that, but skipped out after.


It only took a couple of minutes of searching to catch a glimpse of his green hoodie out of the window, on Donald's houseboat.


"There he is," Huey pointed, tapping Dewey on the shoulder. Dewey peeked around his brother, frowning in annoyance.


"What's he doing out there?" Dewey grumbled.


"...Skipping work and rummaging through Uncle Donald's stuff.  What does it look like he's doing?" remarked Huey with a sigh.


Dewey frowned at the window, crossing his arms over his chest.


"...Well. We gotta go get him. We're gonna get in trouble if we're not working on getting ready for the party," Dewey decided.


Huey sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Uuuuuuughhh... Fine..."


The two duck boys trudged down to Donald's houseboat, which floated in McDuck Manor's swimming pool after a complicated series of accidents and incidents a while back.  The sounds of rustling and rummaging could be heard even from a distance away. Dewey grumbled under his breath at their sibling.


The two duck boys walked across the wooden ramp leading up to the houseboat and peered into the entranceway. Louie was in Donald's closet in the back, rummaging through Donald's shirts and shorts.


"Louie? What are you doing?" Dewey said, a frown on his beak.


"Oh hey, guys. Perfect timing," remarked Louie, "I hit the motherlode!"


"...Motherlode of what?" Huey asked, "And what could possibly be so interesting out here that you skipped out on helping us work on the party?"


Louie grinned at the two of them, holding up a box. Huey and Dewey were unimpressed.


"I caught sight of this a week or two ago.  Uncle Donald forgot to put it away. Figured I'd have a peek and..." and Louie lifted the lid of the box, "BAM! Goldmine!"


Louie pulled a magazine out of the box, and both Huey and Dewey stared in confusion.


"What is that?" Huey asked. Louie handed him the magazine.


"A Playduck," remarked Louie with a smirk, "And Uncle Donald has a LOT of them."


Dewey frowned as the magazine was handed off to him. He flipped through the pages. ...And then let out a quack.


"...WOAH," Dewey managed.  Huey looked over his brother's shoulder and his beak dropped open.  There were naked women on every page.  Some naked men too, with big stiffies. ...But mostly naked women. The duck boys stared at the pictures, flipping through the pages.


"Wow... Some of these ladies have way bigger boobies than Mom's..." Dewey said, wide-eyed.
"And there's more!" Louie said with a grin, "There's DVDs!"


Louie pulled a handful of DVD cases out, the three duck boys staring at the obscene covers.


"Whoa.... We've..." Dewey said, swallowing as his mouth went dry, "We've gotta watch these.  What's a Cumbath Queen?"


"Dunno, but it looks like it involves a lot of that milk-stuff that came out of our stiffies when we rubbed them," Louie remarked, "...Unfortunately, Uncle Donald upgraded to streaming last month and got rid of his player..."


"I'm SURE Scrooge's got one in the media center," Huey mused, "But... we're not s'posed to go in there without one of the adults..."


"...You say that like that's ever stopped us," Dewey chuckled wryly.


Louie chuckled, rubbing his hands together, "Alright. We've gotta find out what Cumbath Queens are, obviously. ...You in, Huey?"


"Well... I guess I shouldn't have to remind you we have work to do?" Huey said dryly.


"C'moooooooon. It's one video. That won't take too long, right? It's like an hour at most," Louie wheedled, "Besides, once we finish, we'll get back to work."


Dewey elbowed his oldest brother and gave him a wide-eyed puppy dog expression.


"...Uuuuuugh. FINE," Huey said with a long suffering sigh, "But only one. And then we HAVE to get back to working on getting the house ready for the party tonight."


"Deal," Louie said, grinning, "Let's head in. Let's watch!"


***


Jimmying the lock to the media center took only a minute’s work as Dewey plied his trade with a hairpin.  He hummed cheerfully as the door clicked open and he gestured smugly for his brothers to enter.


The room was basically a small movie theater, with a massive projection screen in front, and a few rows of reclining seats.  In back was Scrooge’s media library, containing a wide selection of DVDs… and VHS tapes, Betamax, Laserdisc, HD DVDs, and every imaginable obsolete type of media imaginable; as well as functional players for all of them hooked to the projector.


“Why does he even HAVE all these old devices?”  Dewey just asked in befuddlement.


“You know Unca Scrooge,” Huey notes.  “You really think he’d get new media players until they just stopped making stuff for the old ones?  I mean, look, he still has one of those old reel film projectors.”


Louie rummaged through the box, reading the titles of various videos, before dropping them back in; looking for one that caught his eyes in just the right way.  And it did not take long for him to find it.


“Huh.  A blank DVD case,” Louie remarked, picking it up.  He snapped it open to find a disc still nestled inside. There was a scribble across the front of the DVD that apparently passed for a label.


“D., M., G., and C.C.?” Louie said, squinting to try to decipher the handwriting.


"...I thought we were gonna watch that 'Cumbath Queens' one," Dewey said, flicking switches to power on the projector and players.


"Nah, my curiosity's piqued. What IS this one?" Louie mused, sticking the disk into a player before the other two boys could protest.  He flicked the controls to start it playing, turned down the lights in the theater, and scrambled to nab the best seat before either of his brothers could get there.


From moment one, it was clear that the video was anything but a professional job.  It was obviously filmed on some decent, but amateur video cameras and some cellphone cameras, edited together in a slightly slapdash manner.


"Gawrsh, is this thing on?" came a familiar voice to the three boys from the speakers.  The image was blurry, the camera being swung around so that there wasn't any coherent image.


"...Is that Goofy?" Huey asked, frowning, thinking of one of his father's best friends who lived in Spoonerville.


"Goofy, stop messing with the camera," said another familiar voice to the three boys in the video.


"...Mickey?" Dewey blinked, staring.


The camera finally settled in, steadied by Mickey's hand.  And the boys' jaws dropped again.  It was indeed their father's best friends.  And they were stark naked and very, very erect.


"Are we really gonna do this?" came another familiar voice, utterly unmistakable as their Uncle Donald's quack.


The boys' eyes nearly bugged out of their heads. Donald stood next to Mickey, his penis rock-hard and jutting out.


"Just be natural, guys," Mickey admonished in his usual cheerful, friendly manner, "The cameras will autofocus and track movement, so once we're all set up, we can just focus on enjoying ourselves."


"Says you," Donald grumbled, "I'm camera-shy.  I dunno how you talked me into this."


"D. M. G.," Louie mused, "Donald, Mickey, and Goofy."


"...But then who's C.C.?" Huey asked.


"Shut up, shh!  Let's see what's happening!" Dewey said, grinning eagerly as he leaned back in his seat to watch the action on the screen.


***


In the video, Goofy settled onto the couch, nude, his long penis rock hard. The lanky male settled in, spreading his legs wide and giving the camera a wide grin.  Goofy was a black-furred dog, his body slender and wiry. His buck-toothed grin gave him a friendly, silly look.  The boys had seen Goofy in swimsuits and the like before during the summer... but now that he was nude and extremely erect, they were dumbfounded.


How did he fit that monster in his pants?  Or his swimtrunks?  Goofy's penis was absurdly large, a fat slab of dark flesh, throbbing with arousal. It was nearly twenty inches long, by Huey's best estimate, riddled with thick pulsing veins and bulging with a huge, thick crown.


Goofy was smiling bashfully as the camera panned down his body, filming the dog male in his full glory. Thick folds of wrinkled, floppy, thick flesh covered the helmet and obscured most of the glans, except the very tip which peeked through, shockingly pink and leaking precum. His testicles were the size of a pair of basketballs, huge and round and hanging heavily.
Of the three, Goofy seemed the most at-ease and laid back.  Mickey, on the other hand, was clearly full of nervous energy, but cheerful.  The little black mouse was the shortest of the trio, barely coming up to Goofy's waist.


The mouse male was lean and athletic, his muscles compact.  His customary red shorts were missing, revealing a fourteen inch penis which curved up and bounced as Mickey walked. 


Mickey's penis was uncut, drooling a constant stream of precum, his rosy pink glans peeking out of the dark, wrinkled folds of flesh. The mouse male's balls were enormous as well, the size of coconuts, swinging between his legs.  It was a large cock by any standards, but attached to Mickey's small frame, it looked positively gargantuan.


And then there was Donald.


Donald was a happy medium in both height and size between Goofy and Mickey.  The duck was shorter than Goofy, but taller than Mickey, and he had a penis proportionate to his body-type. Donald's cock was fifteen inches, a thick, turgid length which jutted out, dripping a constant stream of precum.


Donald, by far, seemed the most nervous about the situation. He was constantly trying to adjust his penis, covering himself, and turning his body.


His three nephews, watching the video, stared in unabashed fascination.  They'd caught glimpses of their uncle's penis before (the number of times Donald's clothes had been ripped to shreds, burnt to cinders, or disintegrated were countless), but never stiff and throbbing and dripping. 


Donald was quacking under his breath, the male looking nervous and bashful, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the camera and hiding his face in his wings.  His penis was betraying him, jutting proudly out, thick drops of sticky pre drooling down Donald's shaft. The male's huge testicles were churning, Donald shifting from foot to foot.


***


The boys' beaks were agape in fascination, their own penises swelling, pressing against their shorts and under their trousers.


"Are they... gonna play with each other's stiffies?" asked Huey, eyes wide as he stared at the screen.


Louie was rubbing himself through his shorts, licking his bill in anticipation, "They BETTER... this is awesome."


"I can't believe Dad, Mickey, and Goofy did this," Dewey said, eyes glued to the screen.


***


In the video, Goofy, Mickey, and Donald stood nervously, awkwardly, clearly unused to stripping and being nude in front of the camera.


And then came the biggest shock.  One of their father's oldest friends came onscreen.  Clara Cluck, a buxom hen lady, all curves and soft, plump flesh. She wore a frilly, lacy teddy, sheer enough that the duck boys could see Clara's enormous, bulging nipples and a glimpse of brown feathers.  Her ever present massive blue hat, with a large blue feather was perched on her head.  Her expression was something the three young boys had never seen before, like hunger, but somehow more predatory and aggressive.


The opera singer strutted across the room, swaying hips and a fat, round rump barely concealed by the lace teddy. Her enormous breasts heaved and wobbled as Clara crossed the room, smirking at the three nude males.


"Well, well," she clucked, her tailfeathers fanning out as she admired the three males’ throbbing penises, "You boys really DID show up ready and willing."


"Ah-hyuck! Sure did," Goofy chuckled, "We've wanted to do this with ya for AGES."


"Thanks for coming, Clara," Mickey said, his high voice friendly, "We've been waiting for you."


"And you've clearly been THROBBING for me," Clara clucked, cupping Goofy's glans in a feathered palm. She smirked, running a fingertip along the dog male's throbbing glans, Goofy gulping and groaning as the opera singer fondled his penis.  He moaned, throwing his head back as she peeled back his fat prepuce, revealing the fat, sticky head of his penis.


***


"Dude.  Did you even know that the skin could pull back?" Dewey asked, looking down at the bulge in his shorts.


"Of COURSE I did.  The Junior Woodchuck's Guide--" Huey began before Louie reached over and clamped his bill shut.  He made a muffled and outraged noise of protest, glaring at the green-hoodied brother.


"If you mention that book again, we're both gonna kick you outta here," Louie said, deadpan, "Stop with the nerd stuff. Focus on the video."


Huey grumbled but nodded, turning back to the screen.


"What does the skin... do?" Dewey asked.


"...Uh... protects the glans from friction and damage. It's also super-sensitive. Stuff like that," Huey offered.


"You really ARE a nerd," Louie sighed, shaking his head and turning back to the action.


***


Back on screen, the buxom hen had repeated the process with Mickey, who had moaned eagerly in delight as she tended to his cock.  However, things had predictably gone wrong when it came to Donald.


The duck's nerves had broken and he was clearly having second thoughts about doing... whatever it was they were going to do... on camera. Donald quacked angrily, waving his arms as he tried to back away.


"Ah! Ah ah ah! No! Absolutely NOT! I'm out," Donald said, quacking angrily, "This was a terrible idea from the start! And it was your idea, Mickey! I am NOT being recorded on video and--"


Donald's protests were cut off as Clara's bill pressed to the duck male's. Donald froze, mid-sentence. His eyes bulged in their sockets, every muscle in his body going stiff as a board, including his penis, which pulsated angrily as the buxom hen planted a fierce kiss on the male.


After a few seconds, Donald went limp, his eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open as Clara pulled back.


"Good boy," the hen cooed, stroking Donald's face, "Just relax. We're going to have fun, sweetie."


"Fun..." Donald murmured, his expression blissful and dazed.


Clara turned to Mickey and Goofy, grinning smugly, "...And THAT is how you handle Donald when he gets difficult."


"What'd ya do to him?" asked Mickey, tilting his head nervously.


"Trick of the trade," Clara replied airily, "Helps me wrangle unruly audience members. And sometimes uncooperative performers. A little kiss with a pinch of aphrodisiac lipstick puts any man at ease, and keeps 'em calm and relaxed."


Goofy blinked, eyes wide, "Gawrsh, Clara... Donald don't look too good."


Donald was staring off into space, his dick rock-hard, throbbing against Clara's feathery thigh. She stroked the male's cheek, smirking in triumph.


"He's JUST fine," the hen assured, "Aren'tcha, sweetie?"


"Uh-huh," Donald quacked, his voice slow and sleepy sounding.


"...You sure he's alright?" Mickey asked, eyes wide and concerned.


"Absolutely," Clara said with a confident smirk, "A little of this stuff'll relax even the most high-strung performers. Donald is PERFECTLY fine. Trust me. It won't hurt him, and in a couple minutes, he'll be back to his old self... sort of."


She smirked, stroking Donald's cheek and giving the male a little peck on the bill. Donald quacked weakly, his penis drooling a steady stream of precum against Clara's leg, Donald staring at nothing.


"...But that's enough chit-chat, I think," the hen remarked, "I think it's time for some action!"


Mickey and Goofy grinned eagerly, while Donald stood limply. Clara reached up, peeling off her nightgown, revealing inch after inch of soft, plump, feathery flesh. The buxom hen smirked, revealing acres of soft, brown-feathered curves and rolls. Her enormous breasts wobbled and bounced as she undressed, dropping the nightgown to the ground.


***


"...Her boobies are even bigger'n Mrs. Beakley's!" Louie said, a line of drool escaping his beak as he stared unabashedly.


"Have you ever seen Mrs. Beakley's naked boobies?" asked Huey suspiciously.


"...No..." admitted Louie, "But... I mean, LOOK at her!"


Huey and Dewey had to admit he had a point. Clara had huge breasts, her big pink nipples sticking out through the feathers.  The only other women's breasts the boys had ever seen were their mother's, Webby and Lena's nearly flat chests, and the pictures in the Playduck magazines.  But these were on a different scale.


Dewey joined Louie in rubbing the prominent bulge in his shorts, grunting softly, his webbed toes curling in strain and need.


Huey crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the screen, trying not to show arousal. He failed miserably, his penis stiffening.


"...What are they gonna do with their stiffies and her?" asked Dewey, glancing at Huey for an explanation.  Huey inhaled to answer, but got his beak pinched shut again by Louie before he could give a Junior Woodchuck encyclopedia level reply.


"Just watch," Louie huffed, "Duh."


***


Dewey got his answer pretty quickly as Clara dropped to her knees in front of Goofy. She smirked up at the black-furred dog male, gripping his turgid, throbbing erection in one feathered hand. Clara gripped Goofy's shaft and slowly, firmly began to stroke and jerk, Goofy groaning happily.


 "My my my...  is this allllllllll for me?" she asked, leaning in and dragging her tongue along Goofy's thick penis. She licked up the underside of his shaft, Goofy gasping in delight and nodding rapidly. Clara smirked, swirling the fat crown of Goofy's glans with a wet, pointed tongue tip.


 "Good boy," Clara cooed, kissing Goofy's glans playfully, making his penis jump and twitch. His mammoth member throbbed and jerked, Goofy panting and whining happily, his hands behind his head as Clara tended to him. She peppered the dog male's penis with light, teasing kisses, Goofy panting eagerly and nodding, urging Clara to proceed.


 But Clara did not give him what he wanted.  She pulled away, grinning as Goofy grunted in frustration, panting eagerly. Clara sat back and crossed one leg over the other, Goofy's huge cock throbbing against one massive breast.


 "Patience," the hen clucked, "Be a good boy. ...Mickey? How are YOU doing, handsome?"
 Mickey, his penis rock hard, was panting heavily and nodding eagerly, "Just fine! But gosh, I'm so EXCITED!"


 "Well then..." and Clara gave Goofy one last, apologetic peck on the glans, leaving the lanky male gasping and shivering in delight, before moving on to Mickey, "...Let's get to business..."




 She gripped Mickey's turgid erection, stroking and pumping it. Mickey moaned eagerly, panting and smiling happily as Clara tended to the mouse male's throbbing erection. She gripped Mickey's shaft in one feathered palm and tugged firmly and steadily, Mickey gasping and groaning in delight.


 Clara pumped his penis, thumbing the sensitive corona of Mickey's penis under the male's huge wrinkled foreskin, Mickey moaning eagerly in delight. The mouse's whippy tail swished from side to side as he bucked his hips.  


"Well, you ARE excited, aren't you," Clara clucked, smirking, thumbing Mickey's glans and spreading his drooling precum along his turgid length, slathering his penis in glistening moisture, 
"Tell me. How long have you been thinking of doing something like this?"


 "Forever!" Mickey said enthusiastically, nodding eagerly. Clara chuckled and leaned in, kissing his helmet the way she had Goofy's, reaching down to fondle his oversized, black furry balls. Clara dipped her head, and inch after inch of Mickey's black flesh vanished into her throat. The mouse male panted happily, Clara deepthroating his penis, moaning eagerly.


 Her beak bumped Mickey's groin, Clara sucking and bobbing.  Her tongue traced up Mickey's throbbing shaft, the mouse male moaning eagerly, bucking his hips in delight. Clara gagged as Mickey's shaft surged and twitched, drool escaping from around the female's beak.


 "G-gosh, Clara. That feels incredible," Mickey groaned, "I'm gonna..."


"Nope!" Clara said, pulling off of the mouse and pulling back, "Not THAT fast, cutie!"


 Mickey groaned, panting heavily and looking frustrated as Clara pulled off, the hen female smirking as she left him drooling and throbbing. She looked from the mouse male to the duck male standing off to the side.


 Donald was standing numbly, his penis rock hard, drooling a non-stop waterfall of clear fluid. His huge, fat, heavy testicles visibly churned. He was dazed and confused, swaying in place and staring at nothing, mouth hanging open.  


"As for you, my fowl friend," Clara purred, "Why don't we put on a show for the other two.  Come here and get a nice, long taste."


"Mmmmh..." Donald groaned, staggering forward, eyes glassy, pupils wide and dilated. He wobbled forward, Clara guiding the duck male by his penis to the couch. Clara sat herself down and spread legs, smirking as the duck male stared up at the hen.


 "Well? You know what to do, don't you?" she clucked.


 Donald quacked softly. And then bent his head, dragging his tongue along the soft, plump lips of Clara's pussy. The hen gasped eagerly in delight, arching against him, Donald leaning in.


 "Just like that, sweetie," Clara cooed, Donald eagerly licking at the hen's labia, spreading and peeling back the hen's fat outer lips and probing at Clara's depths, "Good boy..."


***


"...What are we LOOKING at?!" Dewey asked, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.  Clara's pussy was the first the boys had ever seen other than their mother's, but... They hadn't seen hers in use.


The triplets watched the action on the screen in fascination, squirming in their recliners as they watched Donald bury his face between Clara's thighs, licking and slurping loudly.  They glanced at each other, each noting the other boys' reactions. Dewey was biting his bill to keep from quacking, Huey squirmed in his recliner, and Louie openly moaned.


"Ah, phooey!  I can't take it any more!" Louie groaned, and tugged down the front of his shorts, his turgid erection springing free, drooling a line of precum. Huey and Dewey squirmed as Louie began to urgently masturbate.


The green-clad triplet gripped his throbbing shaft in one hand and began to urgently stroke, panting happily. The other two watched, their white, fluffy cheeks tinged bright pink.


"Dude!" Dewey exclaimed, blushing.


"Louie!" Huey added, face going crimson.


"Oh, c'mon, you guys know you wanna do it too!" Louie huffed, moaning eagerly as he urgently masturbated, grunting happily, "I'm SERIOUS, you guys. ...Here, watch if it makes you feel better."


Louie kicked his shoes off and wriggled out of his shorts.


Dewey's bill clamped shut, as he turned beet red and squirmed in his chair.


"...Phooey," he grumbled, tugging down the fly of his shorts. He let his stiff erection free, quacking as the air in the video theater hit his bare groin. Dewey groaned in relief as his erection was freed from its confinement. His fat, heavy testicles hung between his legs, churning.
Huey stared at his brothers in disbelief, blushing, "But what if someone comes in and--"


"...We're already in a room we're not allowed to be in, watching a stolen video with naked people doing... things... and you think we'd get in any MORE trouble if we played with ourselves?" Louie huffed. Huey hesitated.


"....Point," Huey sighed, kicking off his own shorts and letting his erection spring free, the middle triplet moaning in relief as his stiff erection throbbed in the cool, circulated air.  With only a moment's more hesitation, he joined his brothers in masturbating.


***


Elsewhere, in the hall, Mrs. Beakley had cleaned up and dressed once more.  She had gone to check on the boys and was both annoyed and utterly unsurprised that they had vanished without a trace. With a sigh, the female began the search for the triplets, hoping that they hadn't gotten into anything TOO dangerous or destructive.


She was walking down the hallway when she was surprised to hear... sounds. Sounds that seemed to be coming from Scrooge McDuck's media room. Beakley paused, listening intently.
There was the unmistakable sound of three seven year old duck boys masturbating, coupled with the even more unmistakable sounds of moaning and pleasure coming from the video room's speakers. Mrs. Beakley froze for a split second, before sighing and pinching the bridge of her beak.


"Not even an HOUR... and they've already gotten into the AV room..." Mrs. Beakley sighed. She marched towards the media room door. She could hear the triplets moaning eagerly, grunting and panting as they... entertained themselves. Mrs. Beakley steeled herself and braced herself.
She was Mrs. Beakley. Housekeeper. Nanny. Agent. Spy. Bodyguard. The woman could handle a lot. But there were still certain things which she preferred to avoid...


Beakley took a deep breath, and then pulled open the media room door and stepped inside.
The boys jumped, staring at the goose woman. They looked like a trio of deer in the headlights, each of them caught with their swollen penises gripped tight in their wings. Precum dribbled over their feathered fingers, eyes wide.


On the screen, a quite amateurish video was playing.  Beakley couldn't help but disapprove of the video quality, the framing, the cinematography. But then, amateur porn HAD a certain charm. It was crude, but...


A buxom hen woman was currently being doused in semen; a little male mouse, a surprisingly tall dog man, and... Donald... were vigorously cumming, spraying their seed all over Clara Cluck's heaving, enormous breasts.


Goofy groaned and guffawed as he came, his mammoth, veiny erection jerking as he sprayed Clara with thick, heavy streams of hot  cum. Goofy's balls churned and surged as he jerked his huge penis, a jetstream of hot, sticky fluid hitting Clara with enough force to dimple her flesh with the impact.  Beakley noted, pressing her thighs together, he seemed almost, if not MORE as virile than Scrooge.


Mickey's cock was spurting jets of hot fluid, the mouse male whimpering eagerly as his penis pulsated, throbbing wildly. Streamers of his thick, pearly seed arced through the air, Clara gasping as Mickey coated one of the hen's enormous, heaving breasts in semen, droplets of cum sticking to and drooling down from the buxom female's nipples.


Donald was groaning and quacking in pleasure as he drove his penis into Clara's pussy, thick gel backwashing out of her depths with every eager thrust. Donald's huge, fat testicles churned in their feathery sac, slapping Clara's enormous, round rump with every eager hump. The hen female cried eagerly in delight, throwing back head and gasping as Donald buried his cock in Clara's depths.


And then he pulled free of her with an obscene slurp, Donald groaning eagerly, aiming his throbbing shaft at Clara's heaving mammaries. A fat, pulsing stream of semen exploded from his glans, hitting Clara Cluck in the face.


Clara moaned eagerly in delight, mouth falling open, tongue hanging out of the hen's beak. Donald splashed one of Clara's cheeks with a thick rope of hot seed, Clara letting out a moan of eager delight. She tilted, letting Donald splash a streamer of hot fluid onto the other cheek.


 Beakley had to forcibly rip her eyes off the screen, focusing on the triplets. Huey, Louie, and Dewey were still staring back at her with an expression that she could only describe as "resigned horror," as if they knew this was coming but still were terrified by it.


And then the situation was made worse as Louie's penis gave an enormous lurch in his grip, swelling. It pulsed and quivered, the duck boy yelping and gasping as the first spurt of hot white fluid exploded out of his glans.


Beakley's eyes fixed on his cock.  She felt the unbearable urge to walk forward and drop to knees, to open up and catch Louie's spurting fluids on tongue. To swallow Louie's sweet, sticky juices.


Beakley forced the feeling down, closing eyes and forcing herself to regain focus.  She didn't know where such improper and... pedophilic thoughts came from, but...


Beakley took several deep breaths, focusing, struggling to keep herself from staring as Louie quacked, spurting thick ropes of sticky white fluid. The triplets stared at Mrs. Beakley anxiously, their expressions somewhere between "deer-in-headlights," and "oh my God, please don't yell at me."


Beakley's thighs were pressing together, a throbbing ache of heat and need pulsing through Beakley's loins. Her nipples were rock-hard, the goose woman squirming and taking several more deep breaths, regaining composure.


Beakley cleared throat and crossed arms over chest, giving the boys a severe look.


"Now, boys. I expect a bit of curiosity from the lot of you. But sneaking into the media center? Using Mr. McDuck's equipment without permission? And INDULGING yourselves in here without asking? That's unacceptable behavior. ...You three are to stop what you're doing right now, clean yourselves up, and--" Beakley began.


Louie moaned, a fat spurt of sticky white semen exploding from the boy's penis. Thick globs of hot juice spurted and splattered across his fluffy belly and chest, the duck boy whimpering eagerly in pleasure.


 Beakley paused mid-sentence, eyes fixing on Louie as the duck boy came, spurting sticky, pearly semen. Beakley gulped as the triplets stared at the goose woman, wide-eyed. They looked almost... helpless. Needy. She squeezed thighs together, crossing arms over chest. She cleared throat and struggled to refocus.


 "As I was saying," Beakley managed, keeping eyes on the far wall to avoid being tempted by either the pornography or worse, the children, "You will CLEAN yourselves up, turn off the video, put things away, and THEN you will apologize for being disrespectful to Mr. McDuck's property."


 The boys nodded. ...Reluctantly.  Huey and Dewey hopped up from their seats, leaving a snails trail of precum as their members bobbed up and down, as if begging for their attention.  Louie, still in the grip of his orgasm, was too busy spurting sticky, syrupy ropes of semen to rise yet.


 Beakley, averting eyes, ushered the other two out. Huey and Dewey blushed brightly as their erections swayed and bobbed between their legs, leaving sticky lines of syrupy fluid on the carpet. Beakley ushered them into the nearby washroom, and handed them a box of wet wipes.


"...Uh... are you gonna... tell mom?" Huey asked, blushing as he used it to gingerly wipe his glans, clearly trying not to climax in front of Mrs. Beakley. Dewey did the same, biting bill as he struggled not to cum in front of the adult woman.


"...It will depend on how diligently you boys work at getting everything ready for the party," Mrs. Beakley sighed, "...and if you cooperate willingly and readily, then I shall see no reason to inform Ms. Della of... this.  Provided I do not catch you indulging yourself or invading Mr. McDuck's media room AGAIN."


 The boys nodded, sighing in relief, both their penises still pulsating and leaking clear, syrupy fluid, making the cleaning they had done pointless.


At that point, Louie entered, looking a little punch-drunk as he staggered in. His penis was still spurting thin ropes of hot, sticky semen.  His hoodie was stained, saturated with milky fluid, as were his shorts.  He had a silly smile on his beak, his hips still rocking and twitching like some kind


 Huey and Dewey stared in envy at the orgasmic release Louie was clearly still enjoying, before Mrs. Beakley passed a fresh box of wet wipes to Louie.


 "Clean up, put away the media room, and THEN get ready for the party," she stated sternly.


 "Sure thing, Mrs. B," Louie said, sounding utterly unapologetic. Beakley sighed and resisted the urge to pinch her beak again. ...The boy was incorrigible.


Beakley sighed deeply, "...If you ABSOLUTELY MUST relieve yourselves, you may do so before you resume work.  I'll give you twenty minutes.  But please... aim it in the toilet or the shower where you can clean it up more easily?  And I do NOT want to find a single drop of... anything... later or I *WILL* tell Mr. McDuck and your mother."


"Sure thing, Mrs. Beakley," Louie and Huey both said, Louie sounding eager and happy, and Huey simply relieved. Dewey nodded, blushing in embarrassment. Beakley closed eyes and counted backwards from twenty, struggling to resist the urge to peek at the three boys as they... tended to themselves.


"...Very well," she sighed, "I shall see you when you're done, then."


Beakley left the washroom and marched back down the hall towards the front parlor. She was trembling a little, feeling hot and shaky and flushed. Beakley squeezed thighs together as she marched down the hall, struggling to contain the urges.  She didn't know where the boys found that video or how much they knew about sex... but some dark part of her wanted to test their knowledge.


She shook her head.  She had indomitable willpower.  She would not give into such crass and obscene urges. She would remain composed, and professional. And ignore the growing, pulsating heat between her thighs, and the insistent throbbing tent in her dress.


She held her head up, taking a deep breath as she tried to ignore the sounds coming from the washroom, the triplets moaning eagerly in their ecstasy.


***
Lena... was in her personal hell.  That was the only explanation for it.  That weird wet dream last night had caused a heart attack or something, and now she was in her own personalized, custom-designed eternal torture chamber.


Lena, for the second day in a row, had an erection that would not go away.  Lena, for the second day in a row, had a hollow ache in her nethers and a dampness between her thighs, rendering her underwear squishy and clingy.


And Lena, for the second day in a row, was stuck in close contact with Webby Vanderquack, with a rock-hard erection, a squishy crotch, and a desperate, burning need.  And Webby, for the second day in a row, was cheerfully torturing Lena without even meaning to.


Webby was currently being levitated up to a chandelier by Lena's magic, using a vacuum cleaner nozzle to suck up cobwebs and dust from between the crystals. ...And she was wearing her usual skirt... without panties.


Lena, beneath Webby, was concentrating on maintaining the levitation spell. And struggling desperately not to look up, for fear of seeing between Webby's yellow, scaly legs to what lied between, or a glimpse of what was tenting the littler girl's skirt.


"How ya doing up there, Pink?" Lena grunted, concentrating on the levitation.


"It's coming along!" Webby called back cheerfully, "Can you move me like a foot to the right and up six inches?"


"Got it," Lena grunted, concentrating to do exactly that. Webby squealed in delight and giggled.


"Thanks, Lee!" Webby cooed.


"S-sure, no prob," Lena mumbled, glancing up for just a moment, gulping.  She sighed in relief.  The change in angle meant that Webby's skirt was blocking her view of anything... though the twitching bulge in the fabric was easier to spot. Lena could not stop squirming, shifting back and forth between Webby's dangling feet, rubbing thighs together.


"...What're Huey, Dewey, and Louie up to?" Lena asked, trying to distract herself, "Any clue?"


Webby said cheerfully, "Probably getting into trouble or something, but... that's kinda their specialty."


"Probably," Lena agreed, grunting, sweating as she struggled to keep concentration.


"Is there a reason you're not looking up at Webby?" asked an unemotional voice.  Lena winced and glanced over her shoulder to see her younger sister Violet carrying in a box of silverware to place on the table.   As always, Lena found herself surprised to find how quickly she had taken to thinking of Violet as her sister after the Sabrewing family had adopted her... and happy that it was that quick.


...And unhappy that Violet happened to be the most annoyingly perceptive person she knew.


"...No reason," Lena grunted, struggling to keep concentration, "Why?"


"Because Webby is waving at you and looks disappointed that you aren't looking," Violet said dryly, starting to set the table, "And because, according to a book I was reading, eye contact and acknowledgement are important for social communication."


 "...Thanks for the lesson in social graces, Sis," Lena replied dryly.


 "No problem," Violet said cheerfully, and added, "You're sweating and turning red. Is it an intense exercise working the spell?"


 "Something like that," Lena grunted. Violet peered curiously, the younger girl examining Lena intently, before frowning.


 "You have an erection, don't you?" she asked flatly.


"GUH BUH WHA..." Lena yelped, eyes wide as she turned to face Violet.  Webby yelped and flailed as the cyan aura of light that surrounded her flickered, the pink-clad duckling threatening to fall.  Her yelp snapped Lena's attention back and the blue-green light resumed its steady glow.


Violet calmly went back to setting the table, and repeated, "I said 'you have an erection, don't you?' Am I to presume correctly that my guess was correct?"


 "VIOLET!" Lena yelped, Webby slowly resuming levitation as Lena frantically regained focus, 


"Y-y-y-y-y-you-- you can't just GO SAYING THAT STUFF OUT LOUD!"


 Violet set a silver spoon down, pulling a square angle out of her pocket to make sure it was aligned properly, "Why? Am I incorrect? Based on the redness of your face and the beads of sweat on your forehead, I would presume that my conclusion is likely--"


 "IT IS!" Lena groaned, turning scarlet, "...But Webby doesn't need to KNOW, okay?"


 "Know what?" Webby asked from up above, vacuuming another cobweb off the chandelier. She looked down at Lena, who stared back up at Webby, wide-eyed. Webby had dust smudged on cheeks and a bit of web stuck in a tuft of feathers on top of head, and was, as always, absolutely adorable.


 Lena gulped, groaning, "...NOTHING, Pink."


"Okay," Webby said cheerfully, and resumed cleaning.


Violet nodded, setting down another fork and aligning it to the napkin and side plate, "Is that so embarrassing?  I currently have an erection too, after all.  I've had one ever since I came to the manor, and..."


 "Violet!  TMI!!!  Too much information!!!" Lena winced, her face blushing pink as she struggled not to picture Violet's penis... though an image came into Lena's mind anyway.


 Violet stroking her penis, pulling back the dark-purple, nearly black foreskin to expose the perfectly bulbous and shiny glans. Violet's long, heavy, pre-dripping shaft, nearly the length of Violet's forearm, pulsating and throbbing urgently, violet-blue veins standing out as the Sabrewing girl masturbated urgently and rapidly. Violet pumping the shaft of that huge penis, moaning softly as...


 Lena whimpered, shaking head and forcing the thoughts and the accompanying, throbbing arousal to stop.  If she kept that up, she was going to splurt in her panties, and having to explain THAT to Webby was a nightmare even worse than her current personal hell.


 "Is there such a thing as too much information?" Violet asked, the corners of her beak tugging down in the faintest of frowns, that after getting to know her, Lena understood to be a quizzical and mildly offended expression.


 "Yes! There IS," Lena replied, sweating heavily, groaning, struggling to focus, "I don't wanna know what's going on in your underwear, just as I'm sure you don't wanna know what's going on in mine!"


"...Actually, I'm exceedingly interested in anatomical processes," Violet corrected, "And would probably be quite interested in yours. Especially the process of--"


 This was too much.  The distraction caused Lena to lose control of the flow of magic.  The blue green levitation aura surround Webby vanished.  And with a wail of surprise, Webby crashed to the floor behind Lena.


 Lena yelped, eyes wide. She turned around, staring down at Webby.


 "Pink! Are you--" Lena began.


And immediately froze, eyes going wide. Webby had fallen... in a very compromising position. 


She was upside-down, heels-over head, legs splayed open. Webby's skirt had flipped up, flopping down over Webby's face to cover the duckling's head, exposing everything between Webby's legs.


 Lena stared, mouth agape. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think.
 Webby's vulva was exposed, glistening wet, the feathers around it dampened by fluids.  Her penis was hard, standing out from its sheath, drooling clear fluid, bobbing and twitching in the air. Lena stared, transfixed by Webby's throbbing penis.


 "Are you injured?" Violet asked, oblivious to the situation and interrupting Lena's thoughts, "Should I seek medical attention?"


 Lena struggled to find words, gaping and staring, Webby squirming and trying to flip right-side up.


 "I'm okay," Webby called out, muffled by skirt, "But can someone help me get upright again?"


 Lena struggled to speak, gulping, managing to finally utter, "...R-right. Uh. Yeah. Gimme a sec."


 Lena stepped closer, leaning down to lift Webby up. Her eyes fixed on the throbbing shaft. Lena gulped. Webby's penis was a 7-inches of bright pink flesh, slick and moist.


 It twitched, dribbling a thick gob of clear, syrupy fluid down from the drooling, shiny glans. Lena's gaze followed the dribbling strand, before glancing over and noting that a wet puddle of clear moisture was forming beneath Webby's groin. The smaller duckling was clearly incredibly aroused.


And with that, Lena's will snapped.  Unlike Donald earlier, she didn't go feral or pounce or even change expressions all that much.  But thoughts that she normally suppressed, urges she normally worked very hard to keep under control and out of her head came to the forefront.  Evil thoughts, the influence of her evil aunt/creator, Magica DeSpell.


 Lust. Desire. A craving to USE Webby... for Lena's own pleasure and amusement.


 Lena licked her beak, looking at Webby and Violet. She had a spell in mind.  One that she'd never really thought about playing with before now, because it seemed a little... well... not nice.  But right now...


She leaned down and helped Webby right herself, setting Webby upright on feet once more. Webby smoothed down her skirt and smiled, her face so adorable that Lena had to struggle as hard as she could to hold back a premature orgasm.


 Webby was perfection. Sweet, cute, cheerful. ...And Lena wanted her. Lena REALLY wanted Webby. And if her spell worked...


"Gimme a sec to turn off the vaccuum and clean up here..." said Webby, turning away. Violet, assured that her friend was unhurt, turned back to setting the table diligently. Lena licked her beak eagerly. This was her moment.


She held her hands by her chest, felt the energetic force inside her, and murmured an incantation as quietly as she could, "Obtemperate voluntati meae, verbis meis crede, in mentis excessum incides."


With that, wisps of cyan light exuded out towards Webby and Violet, curling around the younger girls. Lena concentrated, focusing as much of her magical strength on this spell as she could.


 Webby was finishing putting the vacuum cleaner away, and had bent over to pick up a small, dropped piece of dustcloth when the tendrils curled around her waist, snaking around the duck girl's slender figure. Webby straightened up and froze, her eyes losing focus.


Violet, standing up again to arrange wine glasses, froze as well, her purple eyes going blank, her posture rigid, hands falling slack by her sides. Both younger girls stood perfectly still, waiting.


 Lena licked her bill, her loins aching and her erection pulsating, dripping fluids into her underwear, her panties soaked from the steady trickle.


"...Webby?  Violet?  Can you hear me?" Lena asked tentatively.


"Yes, Lena," both girls responded, voices calm and even. Their faces were expressionless, eyes gazing at nothing, standing perfectly still and rigid.


 Lena grinned. It worked! Lena licked her bill, walking in a slow, predatory circle around Violet and Webby. Both young girls remained perfectly still, eyes vacant as Lena walked in front of them once more.


"Are you two both ready and willing to follow my orders?" she asked tentatively.


Both girls replied evenly, "Yes, Lena."


"...Excellent," Lena grinned, her erect penis jerking eagerly. She could do whatever she wanted with the two, and both were powerless to stop her or resist. Her erection twitched and throbbed eagerly. Lena glanced from Webby to Violet.


 "Do you think... you could take off your clothes, the both of you?" Lena asked hesitantly, blushing, licking beak nervously, "Slowly."


 Both Webby and Violet moved mechanically. They reached down and grasped the hem of their shirts, pulling them up and over their heads, discarding the shirts on the ground. Next came the shoes, pulled free with feet and discarded neatly beside the pile of clothes.


 And then both girls grasped the hem of their skirts, Webby's short and fluffy pink one, and Violet's knee-length purple skirt, and pulled both garments down and off their bodies. Each wore no underwear, and were just as naked and exposed as Lena.


 Both younger girls had soft, fluffy bellies and flat breasts. Pink nipples poked through Webby's white feathers, while dark purple, nearly black nipples were visible through Violet's down.  Webby and Violet each had their sexes on full display.  The duck and hummingbird each had penises, thick and stiff, standing up proudly and twitching, throbbing eagerly. Lena stared at them in fascination and raw arousal.  


Unable to take it a moment longer, Lena took off her clothing as fast as she could without ripping it, dropping each garment to the ground. She stood naked alongside Webby and Violet.


 "Kneel," Lena said urgently, and the two younger girls dropped obediently to their knees, staring expressionlessly. Lena stepped between the two, standing between the two naked, kneeling girls, her erection aching and twitching.


...Was it Lena's imagination or was she... bigger than yesterday?  Couldn't be.  She was just so incredibly aroused and needy that it seemed bigger than usual.


 Lena looked down at Webby and Violet. Their smooth, soft feathers and soft down made Lena want to caress and pet them all over. Their stiff, throbbing penises, drooling and pulsating, made Lena want to stroke and fondle them. Their flat, fluffy breasts and soft, damp nether lips made Lena want to...


She could do ANYTHING to them...  Anything at all.  She could--


And then Lena's conscience kicked in and she winced.  No, she COULDN'T do *ANY*thing to them.  That'd make her as evil as Magica.  She'd never be able to forgive herself for doing anything mean or permanent, like taking their virginity... to Webby especially.


 But... she could indulge a LITTLE. It'd be okay to indulge just a little. After all, if they were hypnotized and compliant...  But having them as zonked-out zombies wasn't really fun either.  Maybe if she planted a suggestion or two...


"Uh... Okay, uh...  So, listen up.  When I clap my hands twice, you'll wake up halfway.  You won't notice you're naked.  And you'll go back to doing your chores.  And your most important chore is to polish a big silver candlestick.  Which is right here..." Lena said, making it up on the fly.  She gripped her penis to show them the 'candlestick' in question.


"When you clap your hands, I will wake up..." both girls mumbled in something not quite unison, listing all the instructions Lena had given them.


"Good.  And when I clap twice again, you'll fall back deep asleep," Lena said, nodding in satisfaction. Webby and Violet echoed her. Lena nodded.


Taking a VERY deep breath and swallowing nervously...  Lena clapped her hands twice.
Webby and Violet's blank, empty faces went slightly less empty. They blinked, eyes focusing once more, looking slightly dazed.  There was still a glazed, sleepy quality to their eyes and demeanor.


 "Uh... Webby? Vi? You okay?" Lena asked anxiously, worried that she'd overdone it somehow or something. Both girls glanced around. Neither looked at Lena's penis, or looked at one another... or seemed at all conscious that they were naked.


"Yeah, I'm fine.  Why do you ask?" Webby asked with a yawn, blinking and reaching for the dustcloth on the ground. She bent over, picking it up, presenting Lena with a fine view of Webby's cute, white-feathered, downy butt... and Lena's hypnotic suggestion was proven true, as the pink-clad duck girl showed no hesitation or embarrassment being bent over and exposed in front of Lena.


 Violet yawned as well, rubbing the side of her head for a moment, "I feel fine. Was I not okay?"


 "Uh... no, it's okay! It's all good! Go on and do your thing, ladies," Lena nodded, relieved that neither seemed the worse for wear. Webby and Violet nodded sleepily, and went about their work.


There was a moment were Lena wondered if her suggestions had taken full effect, as neither girl seemed to pay attention to her.  But then Webby glanced over her way and gasped.


"Oh my gosh!  Look at how tarnished that candlestick is!  Mr. McDuck would be really annoyed if that didn't get cleaned properly!" Webby cried in dismay, straightening up and picking up a dust cloth. She walked over, Violet doing the same, both younger girls staring intently at Lena's throbbing erection.


 "Hmm..." Violet clucked, looking critically at the 'candlestick,' and declared, "We'll have to  scrub off the tarnish."


 Lena watched in muted awe and utter arousal as Webby and Violet each knelt down and began scrubbing at Lena's penis with their cleaning rags. They scrubbed vigorously, both their cloths getting slick and sticky from Lena's clear, syrupy preseminal fluid.


The ten-year-old gasped, her eyes wide, arching her back.  She had NEVER been touched by another person, let alone been scrubbed vigorously. Webby and Violet both diligently attended to Lena's penis, their dust cloths rubbing back and forth in rapid circles on the throbbing, sensitive flesh, the stimulation rapidly overwhelming the ten-year-old.


 Lena moaned, squirming as Webby and Violet scrubbed. They were so concentrated and intent on their 'work' that they didn't notice that they were giving Lena one of the most intense hand-jobs ever.


"Wow.  How'd this get so dirty?" asked Webby, her glassy eyes fixed on Lena's throbbing cock.


"Perhaps this candlestick got into contact with contaminants of some sort, resulting in discoloration and grime," Violet guessed, "...Do you know if it got dirty or oiled in any place, Lena?"


"Uh... yeah, I think a bunch of... uh... maybe some kinda slimy stuff?" Lena suggested, shivering as a fresh oozing spill of pre-seminal fluid spilled out of her glans and down the underside of her drooling shaft, lubricating Webby and Violet's cleaning efforts.


"Ugh.  I've got this stubborn spot that just... won't... come off!" grumbled Webby.  Even if her mind was completely enraptured by a hypnotic illusion, her body seemed to be aware of what she was doing.  Her grip was changing, her stroking movements getting more dexterous, her strokes getting more firm and intense. Lena groaned.


Webby was pumping her cloth up and down the throbbing shaft. Violet mimicked the same motion lower down the base near the sheath. Lena couldn't contain it any longer. Her hips were bucking, her pussy clenching and quivering.  She threw her head back and moaned, but neither the other duck or hummingbird seemed to notice or care.


"Is it just me, or the more I scrub away, the more slime and dirt keeps appearing?" Webby grunted.


"Hmm..." Violet clucked, examining the drooling tip. Lena squeaked, as Violet leaned in, tilting Lena's throbbing penis towards her, examining the shiny, swollen, drooling glans.


"Perhaps the best option would be to scrub at the dirtiest part first and work our way outward," Violet decided, "...Perhaps you'd be most efficient with a circular motion?"


Webby nodded, shifting position to the other side of Lena's shaft, gripping it firmly and peeling back Lena's foreskin to expose the bulbous, shiny head.  Lena's face was bright red as her hypnotized best friend stroked Lena's penis, her beak inches from the throbbing, engorged glans.


Webby focused in on cleaning the 'dirtiest part' first.


Violet mimicked the same on the underside of Lena's cock. The ten-year-old gasped, staring in raw disbelief as the younger girls diligently cleaned Lena's penis with their dust rags, stroking, polishing, scrubbing, and cleaning Lena's drooling glans, her stiff, thick shaft, and the rest of her turgid penis.


"Ah! Ah! AHHHH... ahhhh," Lena groaned, eyes wide as she watched, her hips humping. 
Webby's rag was soaking and slicking up Lena's penis.


"Is something wrong, Lena?" Violet asked as she rubbed the soft terrycloth up and down the base of Lena's member, some of it dangling down and tickling her clitoris every stroke.  


"Um, nope.  Just... uh... got a wrist cramp from all this... cleaning..." Lena groaned, her toes curling as Webby and Violet diligently polished and scrubbed Lena's drooling erection, polishing and massaging the swollen head and rubbing vigorously up and down the drooling shaft.


"Webby, I think I need some more polishing cream on my rag," Violet remarked.  Lena's eyes went wide as a massive blue droplet of sweat rolled down her face.


"Uh, no, I think you've got plenty, you don't need to add more," she said hastily.  The terrycloths they were using were clean ones.  The last thing Lena wanted was for them to dip them in a jar of silver polish or worse, cleaning solution and apply that to her penis.


"But the candlestick is still discolored.  It clearly needs more polishing cream," Violet observed. Lena whimpered.


"Uh... I'm s-sure if you keep at it, it'll buff out. Just be gentle," Lena said nervously, hoping the girls' enchanted suggestibility would prevent them from going further.


To her relief, the girls both nodded, accepting her suggestion and going back to stroking and gently polishing Lena's throbbing penis. Webby's terrycloth swabbed Lena's sensitive, swollen head, Webby gently and gently massaging the drooling glans and tugging the thick, tight, loose skin back over the head and back again, exposing the shiny glans once more.


 Violet focused on the lower third of Lena's penis, the duck girl focusing intently on the area. Her cloth stroked and rubbed in small, circular motions.


It was too much.  Lena felt the earthquake building in her pelvic muscles, the volcano building in her penis.  She couldn't hold back.  She didn't want to hold back.


 "Huuuuuhnnnnn!" Lena groaned, and climaxed.


Her penis jerked and surged in Webby and Violet's grasps. Thick spurts of hot, milky juice exploded from her tip, the first spray striking Webby's beak. Lena squealed, gasping in embarrassment. Webby blinked.


And then the hypnotized younger duck girl smiled happily, beaming, and said, "Oh, wow, look at all the candle wax! How did we miss all of this?"


 Webby held her cloth directly over Lena's spitting, spurting glans, catching thick, fat ropes of milky seed onto the soft terrycloth, the cloth immediately soaking through and getting drenched and splattered. Webby caught and cupped thick, syrupy strands, holding the rag directly over the tip of Lena's penis. Violet, oblivious, continued scrubbing.


Webby beamed as thick, sticky strands of hot semen struck her, soaking the younger duck girl's feathers and the front of her chest, dripping down her front and sticking to her breasts and belly. Violet, unaware, continued rubbing Lena's penis, polishing the base of the throbbing shaft, unaware as Lena's cum-shooting member spewed its syrupy load all over the duckling.


"Nnnngh, oh... Oh, yeah... Make sure to... hnnn... clean up all that 'wax,' gals..." Lena moaned, watching in aroused fascination as her best friend and sister were splattered with long, sticky strands of duck spunk.  Violet took the shower as stoically as she did anything else, blinking occasionally as semen struck her beak, neck, and hair, splattering Violet's dark-purple down and feathered breasts.


"Indeed. This wax is quite sticky. I wonder how much there will be?" Violet mused, oblivious as cum splattered her feathers and soaking and gluing her hair together in sticky, gooey curls.


Neither girl seemed to question the fact that a 'candlestick' was spraying enormous jets of hot, sticky 'wax.'  The hypnotic delusion prevented them from questioning it.  Even as Lena cried out in pleasure, bucking her hips into their grip, they took little notice of her moans or cries of ecstasy as they dutifully cleaned Lena's cumming member.


"Huuuuhh..." Lena groaned, thrusting forward as a fountain of milky white liquid exploded from her glans, the stream arching up into the air before descending upon Violet and Webby, raining back down over the duck girl's heads and faces and shoulders, splattering the floor around them.


 Violet paused in her polishing and sat back, wringing out her hands, flexing her feather-fingers.  She watched with glassy eyes as Lena's penis pulsated, lurching with each shot of spunk.


"Ugh. It's getting everywhere.  It's sticking to everything," Webby grumbled in muted, sleepy annoyance, as she took a break from stroking too.  Lena took over, gripping her penis and aiming it at each girl, milking the fold of skin up and down over her swollen, sensitive helmet.


Thick globs of semen arched through the air, splashing and splattering on Webby's cheeks and chin, on Violet's breasts and face. The younger girls remained oblivious, letting Lena's thick, syrupy fluid soak their feathers and hair and breasts.


Lena gasped, milking her penis rapidly, gasping eagerly in aroused delight as she sprayed her two young friends. Webby and Violet didn't mind, as long as they thought it was candle 'wax' splattering their bodies.


 "Huuuuu..." Lena moaned, as Webby wrung her cloth out, dripping milky fluids onto the floor, her front thoroughly soaked with cum.


"This is getting ridiculous. If this is the amount of wax we missed, it's going to take a LOT of scrubbing to get it clean again," Webby muttered, sounding exasperated. She wrung the terrycloth out, splattering semen over Violet.


 "Nnn.  I w-wouldn't worry... I think it's... almost done..." panted Lena, shuddering as she caressed her clitoris with her free hand, feeling her inner muscles clench in time with her ejaculations.


 Webby nodded, wringing out her cloth and watching the cum fall to the floor, and said, "Oh, good. Maybe then we can go back to doing our actual chores."


 "Yes.  Cleaning this up will take some time and I still have to set the table," Violet said, glancing over her shoulder at the work she had abandoned.  In the process, she took a splatter of spunk to the back of the head, semen spraying and splattering her dark-purple feathers.


 "Nnngh!" Lena groaned, as Webby began scrubbing and polishing her penis once more, Violet joining her again, diligently trying to 'clean the candle.'


 "Guuh, ah, c'mon... it's f-finished! Just stop for a sec, g-girls..." Lena groaned. She wasn't done cumming, but she couldn't handle the intensity of being stroked and polished while in the throes of her orgasm.


 Webby and Violet both reluctantly stopped stroking and sat back on their heels. Webby's face and front were covered with semen. Violet's hair was glued together in sticky white strands, her feathers and chest sticky and soaked.  Lena pumped her phallus, fingering herself as she rode out the last minute of her orgasm.


 Webby yawned. Violet shook semen out of her hair, droplets of semen flying off. And then both girls went back to their cleaning tasks as if nothing had happened, as Lena sat there and watched in muted, aroused shock.


"...Guys? ...Are you okay?" Lena asked weakly. Webby glanced up at her, puzzled, as she used her rag to scoop a glob of semen from her cheek.  The terrycloth was wrecked, completely saturated with Lena's semen leaving more of a mess than it cleaned.


 "Huh? I'm fine. Why? Does the candlestick need more cleaning?" she asked curiously, staring at Lena's sputtering glans, thick gobs of fluid still drooling and pooling onto the floor.


 "No. ...No, I think you've got it..." Lena sighed.  She blushed, watching Webby and Violet's cocks twitch.  She wanted to tend to their arousal... but...  She glanced at the clock, then the door to the dining hall.


...She was pushing her luck as it was.  The amount of trouble she'd get in for zonking the two girls out would be unimaginable.


Lena lifted her wings and with only a moment's hesitation, clapped twice loudly. Violet and Webby froze mid-motion, eyes glazing over once more. Lena sighed.


 "Uh, you've cleaned the candlestick really well. Good job. I'm proud of you," Lena said, blushing, "And now I want you to both sneak out of here as quick as you can, find the nearest bathroom, and clean each other up. Make sure you get every last drop of... uh... wax... out of your feathers.  Don't let anyone catch you.  Then come back here, and we'll talk more."


 Webby and Violet nodded dreamily, getting to their feet. Like zombies, they shuffled towards the exit, semen still splattered on their feathers. Lena blushed, sighing in relief.


 That had gotten... intense. Too intense. Lena licked her beak. Webby and Violet would no memory or recall of what had happened while they'd been under the sway of the spell...
Lena groaned, shaking head. She had to control herself.


She looked down at her thick, hard, erect penis, which was still spurting a drooling puddle of cum on the ground. Lena sighed, reaching down to cup her swollen, drooling glans.  She licked her fingers, tasting her own fluids.


"...Lena, you gotta get hold of yourself..." she sighed, climbing to her feet.  With that, she cast an invisibility spell and headed out the door for the next nearest bathroom.  She didn't trust herself to be in the same shower with Webby and Violet...


***


Scrooge walked down the hall, grunting as his swollen member swayed pendulously under his kilt.  Despite his session with Mrs. Beakley earlier, he was feeling... unsatisfied.  That said, he had managed, for the moment, to take his mind off of his libido.  He had things to do.


The spry old man could not understand WHY he wanted to throw a multiple day-long get-together.  He hated parties.  He disliked people in general.  He wasn't a fullblown misanthrope, but he didn't exactly go out of his way to be sociable and friendly.


 Scrooge McDuck preferred his family and staff.  Mrs. Beakley, Webby, Donald, the triplets, and...  Della.  (His cock gave a throb and he made a VERY conscious effort to keep his thoughts off his niece.)


Yet he was organizing a house party. One that he didn't expect would go off without a hitch. Parties in McDuck Manor usually ended with Scrooge having to repair at least several broken antiques and expensive art.  He didn't know why he was going to the bother, but he felt... oddly compelled to bring more people to the manor.


 Scrooge winced, rubbing his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He struggled to remember the reason he was putting the effort in. He knew the reason... somewhere. But why?


Scrooge sighed, reaching down under his kilt and rubbing his massive shaft. It throbbed, drooling and oozing, his large testicles swollen and heavy, packed to the brim with cum.  He'd have to masturbate or have another session with Beakley later.  He hoped she would not give him grief about doing it twice in one day, but...  He suspected she probably would.


The elderly duck stopped by the door to the largest dining hall.  He decided to check in on the girls while he was passing by. They could be trusted with simple party preparations, surely?


 Scrooge opened the door--


And was greeted by an empty room, with a half-set table, three-fourths of the room freshly dusted and vacuumed...  and splattered with white gooey strands on the floor and walls, and what looked suspiciously like semen-splattered rags in a pile on the floor.


 Scrooge stared for a few moments in consternation, then sighed, hung his head, and pinched the bridge of his beak.  Apparently he wasn't the ONLY one being highly distracted today.


"Mrs. Beakley is NOT going to like this," the elderly duck muttered to himself. He rubbed his aching, swollen penis, groaning softly.


⁂


Donald had just had sex with his sister.


Donald had just had SEX with his sister.


Donald had just had sex with his SISTER.


Donald had just had sex with DELLA.


Della. His twin sister. His fraternal twin sister.


 Donald couldn't get the thought out of his head as he stumbled down the hallway, his face flushed.  He could still taste Della's cum in his mouth, feel her wetness on his cock. He could not get it out of his head.


On one hand, he was HORRIFIED.  He had a steady girlfriend, after all!  And it was incest!  And lest we forget...  DELLA WAS HIS RASSAFRAGGIN' SISTER!!!


...And on the other, it had been darned near the best sex of his life.  That gangbang with Mickey, Goofy, and Clara didn't compare.  Only his first time with Daisy really even ranked, and it was *REAL* hard to choose between them.


Donald decided to do the only thing that made sense for a duck in his situation.  He turned, found the nearest column, and bashed his forehead into it, hoping that would either wake him up from this nightmare or cause him brain damage to erase the memory. Unfortunately for Donald, the only thing that caused was a headache.


 Donald whimpered, clutching his forehead in pain, and mumbled, "Aw, phooey..."


And yet, even as his head hurt and throbbed, his penis twitched and ached eagerly. The memory was burned into his brain. Della... was so cute. So eager. She was so soft, so tender, so gentle. Her sex was so...


 Donald groaned, squeezing his penis through the fabric of his shorts. His mind kept going back to it. He'd have to talk to his sister, and probably beg and plead with her to pretend that the whole thing never happened.


Any further train of thought along that line was washed out by a haze of purple sweeping across his mind.  His emotions, so roiled up and worried, mellowed into a dull flat grey. His torrent of half-coherent rapid-fire thoughts and impulses slowed and ground to a halt, replaced with a pleasant blankness.


 Donald stood in place, head throbbing, cock throbbing, standing placidly in the middle of the hall, eyes glazed. He didn't think, didn't fret.


"Obey.  Turn.  Go down," Donald quacked flatly, repeating the command that echoed wordlessly through the vast empty expanse of his mind. Donald turned, began to walk, went down the hall towards the stairwell.


He descended down the stairway, following a command that echoed like a whisper of the wind through his mind, walking towards his destination.


It did not take him long to find himself in the vault of the Statue of Priapus... but he was not alone. Another pair of webbed feet padded on the floor with the slow, marching rhythm of a zombie.


Donald took little interest as his Uncle Scrooge McDuck joined him.  The older duck's eyes were as glassy as the spectacles perched on his beak, his ever-present top hat tilted forward, his cane dragging on the ground and thunking on each step down. Scrooge was in the exact same zombified state that Donald was, both of them lost and drowning in a sea of purple waves, obeying commands that echoed soundlessly through their subconscious minds.


 Both ducks walked on autopilot, reaching the statue at the same time. They turned to look at it, eyes blank and unfocused. The rotund stone elephant, Priapus, gazed down at them, holding his gemstone. The statue's penis was as engorged as ever, so realistically chiseled that the veins along its length seemed to pulse.


"Undress," stated Donald and Scrooge. Unceremoniously, the two ducks began shedding their clothing. Neither of them had any hesitation about being naked around one another. Scrooge unbuttoned his shirt and trousers, dropping clothing in a neat pile on the floor. Donald tugged his sailor shirt up over his head and off, undid his belt and shorts, and dropped his own clothing and underwear in a messy heap on the ground. Both ducks had erections, stiff, turgid shafts throbbing urgently and jerking slightly, both of them already heavily dribbling preseminal fluids.


 In silence, the two stepped closer to Priapus, their gaze fixed on the gemstone that the elephant held in his outstretched hand.


"Stroke," said both ducks, in something close to unison, Donald perhaps a beat behind. The ducks reached down and grasped their erect penises. Their grips were firm and intent, pulling back the loose folds of skin that covered their glans. The two men stood facing the statue, stroking their aching, throbbing erections, staring up at the elephant penis.


 Preseminal fluid dribbled in thick gobs down both thick, stiff members, the two adult males masturbating and staring at the chiseled phallus with glassy eyes. Their erections throbbed and lurched in their hands, drooling a small pool of moisture on the floor between them, splattering their webbed toes.  


"Stroke.  Stroke.  Stroke.  Stroke," said Donald and Scrooge, echoing the impulse that filled their heads, and each time pumping up and down on their members with greater urgency. Both ducks jerked their penises rapidly, milking their shafts with firm, urgent grips, tugging their uncut dicks in a steady, rhythmic motion. Their balls swelled and churned, each man's swollen testicles swollen and bulging, packed with a thick payload.


 The ducks stared up at Priapus's phallus, gazing up at the oversized, chiseled member as they masturbated. Webbed fingers and thumbs gripped thick, fat penises, the two adult males pumping and jerking urgently, their hips beginning to buck.


While Donald had been the most affected by the statue's power, Scrooge had been in close proximity to it for almost as long.  Donald's mind was far weaker, more susceptible, and vulnerable than Scrooge's. But Scrooge too had been under its influence... though more subtly and taking quite a bit longer to fully subjugate and enslave him to its perverted programming.


Now, Scrooge was as mindless as his nephew, stroking his member steadily, milking his uncut glans as it drooled copious fluids from his turgid, throbbing head. He stood beside Donald, matching his nephew stroke for stroke. Their hips thrust forward with each stroke, almost mechanically.  Scrooge's heavy balls jiggled with each motion, his huge scrotum swinging.


"Stroke.  Stroke.  Stroke...  Cum," Scrooge and Donald murmured, and with that, the older duck ejaculated first. Thick, milky ropes of semen lanced into the air from his twitching glans. Scrooge was old, but despite his age, the older duck ejaculated a vast load. Strands of seed flew, arcing up and splattering Priapus.


 "Stroke. ...Stroke. ...Cum," Donald quacked flatly a moment later, his eyes unfocused. He aimed his throbbing glans at the statue as well, firing thick gobs and ropey streams of seed, spraying semen up and coating the elephant's gemstone.  He groaned in his throat, tilting his head back as his body was wracked by an orgasm so powerful his knees trembled. Donald's cock lurched, pulsating in his grip.


 Thick, heavy payloads of white, creamy semen dribbled and arced and splattered Priapus, spraying the statue. Thick drops of spunk dripped and dangled from the elephant's hand, sliding down the outstretched palm. Semen rolled down the elephant's swollen phallus in a milky waterfall, rolling down the turgid penis and over the elephant's testicles.


And then the fluid receded, seeping into the surface of the gemstone. The stone elephant absorbed the thick fluids, glowing with a dull violet light. The gemstone pulsated and throbbed, the elephant stone statue becoming charged with sexual energy.  The two enthralled males kept stroking, milking themselves with firm, intent pumps, squeezing their turgid heads.


Minutes passed with Donald and Scrooge in an entranced orgasmic rictus, spouts of semen erupting with each lurch and jerk of their penises, firing their essence onto Priapus. Their glassy, unfocused eyes never left the statue's penis, nor the gemstone, both men stroking, milking their turgid penises, spilling endless streams of their cum upon the elephant god's outstretched hand.
The orgasm slowed gradually, eventually ceasing, Scrooge and Donald milking the last dregs of their loads onto Priapus. Each adult male had soaked the statue in a thick layer of semen. The elephant god was thoroughly glazed in Donald and Scrooge's fluids, both their testicles swollen and drained, their penises sagging and growing slowly softer.


 And like the two days before, Donald said dully, "Turn.  Leave.  Forget."
This time, the words were said by Scrooge as well, both of their eyes glowing with purple light. Both ducks turned and trudged away naked, cum-splattered and still dripping. They would not remember any of what had transpired.


The gemstone glowed brightly with stored power, preparing to discharge it as night reached its peak...


⁂