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BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 01

By: PrevertOne



Bears, Porridge, and Honey:

A Pair of Goldilocks by The Preve

Story One---The Sticky Cheerleader: Part One

The Gundersson Brothers lived in the forest: Olaf, Sigmund and Gurd. They prospered through honey making, courtesy of Olaf. Sigmund supplemented the income, selling wood supplies to the local furniture company. Gurd's hunting saved on groceries; meat cost money.

The brothers practiced a frugal lifestyle. The forest cost less money than the city. It also helped the brothers conceal their nature as Berserkers.

Berserkers were fierce warriors; some were ursanthropes, were-bears. They terrorized Europe during the Viking period. The Vikings outlawed Berserkers as uncontrollable. Human Berserks disappeared within a few generations. The were-bears learned to blend in, adapt, and become part of the community; but the brothers kept the old traditions, and worshipped the old gods.

Sigmund grunted and growled his way out of bed. "Rumph! My turn to make breakfast, grrr!" Sigmund cooked terrible meals and he knew it. He kept breakfast simple: Quaker oats with bran. A look in the fridge produced leftovers, but not enough for three large men. "Grrrrowl! I'll have to make more, snort!"

"Oi Brother! What be you doing?" Olaf asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I be cooking breakfast, brother, it be obvious," grumped Sigmund.

"Leave off brother and put it in the slow cooker. We have needs to take the honey to Safeway. Wake Gurd to help. We'll break fast at the IHOP."

The brothers woke Gurd, loaded the honey, and climbed into the pickup. "Do remember to put on glamour, brothers," said Olaf, "Lest our appearance cause us a shitload of grief."

"Aye!" Sigmund and Gurd chorused. As the pickup drove away, Gurd asked, "Did you remember to lock the house Sig?"

"Aye," Sig answered, "(I think so)."

......

Cynthia Golding uttered a stream of invectives, using profane poetry, unexpected from a girl of her looks and breeding. She woke this morning, ready to celebrate her 18th birthday with a short hike (and avoid a surprise party from her shallow parents and friends). 

The sunny morning gave way to a cloudy afternoon. A sudden rainstorm exploded on her body, soaking the young cheerleader. "Fuck it! Why me?" she groaned. The forest, while thick, did nothing for protection. Cynthia needed shelter, fast; a short time later, "Oh! A house! Salvation!"

The rustic styled house included a driveway and satellite dish. Cynthia counted fifty beehives, lined in neat rows, in the backyard. She smiled. "Beekeepers." Visions of friendly mild-mannered old men danced in her head.

She rushed to the door and rang the bell. 'Brrring! Brrring!' brought no answer. She looked in the window. "No one in the living room." Cynthia tried the door; to her surprise it opened. She debated whether to enter. "Trespassing, breaking and entering, possible jail time." A bright flash and loud boom decided her vote. A tree near the house smoldered, sundered in two by the lightning strike, "Gulp! That's a good an excuse as any!"

She walked down the hall to the living room. "Oh good, a TV!" she grinned. Three large chairs, plus a leather sofa, were arranged around the television. "A wooden bench with a stone seat? That looks way too hard. How can anyone sit on it? That other one looks like a bean bag with pillows, too soft. The leather recliner looks just right, though."

A quick search of the sofa produced a remote. A click of the switch produced the Weather Channel. The Weather Channel produced bad news: storms for the near future. "Great, so I'm stuck."

Cynthia felt ridiculous, standing in the living room, dripping wet. "I need to get out of these clothes," she thought. Cynthia found the bathroom; a large, tiled hangar, almost like a steam room. She stripped off her clothes; t-shirt, khaki shorts, socks, and hiking boots.

She left the bathroom to find the laundry. The clothes went into the washing machine (including her bra and panties for good measure). Cynthia returned to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. "Why not," she thought, "I'm in the house without permission; may as well stick it in further."

She paused to look in the mirror. Cynthia's curvy, athletic body came from good genes and years of cheerleading. "35C-25-36," she smiled with self admiration, "And it's going to stay that way." She undid the pony tails, letting her light golden blonde hair cascade to her shoulders.

Cynthia gazed upon her beauty for several minutes; light blue eyes, beautiful face, ivory perfect teeth ringed by bee-stung lips, flat washboard stomach, muscled sculptured legs, all completed a classic of young hot beauty. A golden sprinkle around her rose, complimented by a light tan, finished the package.

The spacious shower had three nozzles, a shelf on the wall stocked with large bricks of soap, and jars of men's body wash and shampoo. Cynthia noted the jars. "Odd," she thought.

A large drain sat in the middle of the floor. It had no grate, but crossed bars, with clumps of hair on top. "Hairy people, explains the shampoo," Cynthia remarked.

She took a brick and shampoo, turned on the shower, and lathered up. Later, skin flushed pink, nipples engorged, shiny wet and slick, Cynthia stepped out and got a minor surprise. "No towels? That's not convenient."

Cynthia looked around the bathroom and found a hair dryer. "Maybe these people are hair dressers!"

The dryer took care of the water, but the heat re-flushed her skin. "I hope my clothes finish before they get back," she worried, "Maybe the storm will be over by then."

If the occupants returned, a good explanation could keep her out of jail. Cynthia blushed pink at a vision: frowning cops leading her out, clad in nothing but handcuffs, hysterical family shrieking behind her. It caused a strange feeling. Cynthia dismissed it and set off for the living room, ignoring the warm, moist feeling in her pussy.

She pondered her next move; a stomach growl gave her the answer. "Off to the kitchen."

The modern kitchen lacked a microwave. Cynthia saw a crock pot on the counter. She looked inside, "Porridge, with raisins and...jalapeño peppers? Eeew! Too hot!"

The fridge revealed little except cold, curdled porridge, "Yuck! Too cold!" Cynthia explored the cupboard and found raisin bran, a cereal she actually liked. "Just right." She ate two bowls.

The washer still held her clothes hostage, so Cynthia decided to explore the bedrooms. The first was all wood: wood panels, wooden floor, wooden wardrobe, and wooden bed with a thin futon, all very well crafted. Cynthia tested the bed, "Hmmm, well built but too hard."

The next room was the opposite: thick carpeting, cushy padding on the walls, and a thick-mattressed bed piled high with pillows and blankets. Cynthia jumped into the bed and nearly smothered. It took some effort to get out. "'Gasp!' That bed is a deathtrap! Too soft!"

The plain ordinariness of the third room surprised the cheerleader. A large bed sat squarely in the middle; a small rug, a large wardrobe, and a closet placed exactly so, plus beige, plaster walls. 

Cynthia looked at the neat arrangement, walked to the bed, and sprawled aboard. "Everything is just right, here," she thought. 

She listened to the patter of rain. The cheerleader felt a mild thrill, lying naked on a stranger's bed, in a strange house, without the owner's knowledge. The soft 'ssshh' of the rain sang a lullaby. "I'll just close my eyes for a second," she murmured, "Just for a sec....'sigh!'."

......

The Gundersson brothers pulled into the driveway. "A good day at the supermarket brothers!" boomed Olaf.

"Aye, and a good day at the Titty Twister too," laughed Sigmund.

"Aye, too bad about this rain, brothers. It does terrible things to our hair," grumped Gurd. Sigmund and Olaf often wondered about Gurd. His penchant for soft things and fur seemed a bit...sow-ish.

"Brothers look," Olaf cried, pointing at the porch, "Muddy footprints, someone's been here."

"Aye," said Gurd, "And the footprints be not leading away. I do not like this, brothers."

"Bring the bat and hockey stick from the truck Gurd," snarled Olaf, "We shall deal with this trespasser."

The grunting, growling Gunderssons entered the house. "Hear that brothers?" whispered Olaf, "The washing machine is running." Keen bear senses tracked the intruder's scent to the kitchen. 

"Someone's been in the fridge brothers," Gurd cried.

"Someone's been in the crock pot," said Sigmund.

"And someone has eaten our raisin bran from the cupboard," said Olaf.

"Grrrr!" growled the brothers.

The Gunderssons snuffled and growled their way to the living room. "Someone's been watching our TV," said Gurd.

"And wasting our electricity," said Sigmund.

Olaf sniffed the seats, "At least they haven't used the chairs." 

"Grrrr!" growled the brothers.

The Gunderssons went to the bathroom. "Someone's been in the shower," said Gurd.

"And used our soap," said Sigmund.

"And wasted our water," said Olaf. He examined the wash cloth. "Strange hair on the washing cloth brothers. Our trespasser is a blonde."

"Grrrr!" growled the brothers.

The Gunderssons snuffed their way to the bedrooms. "Let us separate brothers," said Olaf, "That we may check our rooms more efficiently."

"Aye!" snarled the other two.

The brothers looked into their rooms. What they found produced snarls of outrage...at least from Sigmund and Gurd.

"Brothers! Someone's been sleeping in my bed!" growled Gurd.

"Aye! And someone's been sleeping in my bed," grunted Sigmund.

Gurd and Sigmund lumbered down the hall toward Olaf's room. They stopped; Olaf came out with a stunned look. "Brothers," he rumbled quietly, "Someone's been sleeping in my bed and she's still there....and man she be fucking hot!"

The brothers piled into Olaf's room. The intruder was on the bed, hair fanned out like a golden crown, hand on her beautifully flat belly, legs slightly spread, a light glow of sweat on her skin, pink rose wet and glistening, with beads of moisture on her golden muff.

The brothers growled and licked their chops. The Gunderssons' prodigious members responded to the feast set before them; three pairs of jeans grew very tight. "Let us huddle brothers," Olaf whispered. 

"Where do you think she came from brothers?" whispered Gurd.

"Who cares, brother," growled Sigmund, "I feel the frenzy coming."

"Me too, brother," barked Gurd.

"This be opportunity, brothers, but we must...Oi! Olaf! What be you doing?!" whispered Sigmund.

"I be taking advantage while I can, brother," Olaf snarled. He strode to the bed, ripping off his clothes, already shifting to Ursen form. 

"Hold brother," Gurd growled, struggling to keep human himself, "There be conseque..."

"Grrrr brother! Fuck consequence! Bad enough to restrain myself at the Titty Twister. There be pie here and I mean to have it!"

Gurd looked to Sigmund, who shrugged, "May as well join in brother." He shredded his clothes and went ursine.

"Oh fuck!" Gurd grumbled and let the change take him.

Olaf mounted the bed and dipped his head between the girl's thighs. "My room! I get choice dibs!" he snarled.

He sniffed and snuffed her sex. His large, fat nose brushed against the golden hairs. He licked his long, broad tongue across her lips. Cynthia, a sound sleeper who usually needed a loud alarm, moaned. 

Sigmund and Gurd moved to both sides of the bed. The brothers gazed upon the cheerleader's vanilla milk breasts; round pink nipples topped the melons like cherries on ice cream. "Mmmm, popovers," drooled Gurd.

"You take one, I take the other, brother," whispered Sigmund.

The brothers put their fat lips to Cynthia's cherries and began to nip and suck; for a paradisiacal moment, the three ursanthropes held free reign over the cheerleader's body.

Broad tongues and wide mouths nibbled and sucked her swollen titties. Olaf's fat tongue slid inside her pink cleft, licked and smacked her swollen clit, and lapped the cum. He delved inward, gliding across the moist walls.

Cynthia gasped and clutched the bed, hands clenched and unclenched. Her belly rose in and out, brushing against the massive, hairy arms across it.

Olaf spread her legs and wrapped his arms around them. His head bobbed back and forth. Cynthia ground her pelvis, brushing golden pubic hair against his nose.

Inevitably, the brothers' attentions forced the cheerleader awake. She gasped with a hard orgasm, waking from a pleasurable wet dream. It took several seconds for her mind to process the sight of three men molesting her body. The quiet house suddenly rang with peals of ear shattering shrieks, and wall shaking growls.

To Be Continued

BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 01.2



Bears, Porridge, and Honey:

A Pair of Goldilocks by The Preve

Story One---The Sticky Cheerleader: Part Two

Cynthia caught the brothers off guard. The cooperative, orgasmic body beneath them, transformed into a whirlwind of flying arms, fists, and legs. "Shriek! Scream! Help! Get off me you perverts!" the cheerleader shrilled...and then she saw the true nature of the men bearing down upon her.

Cynthia's screams ascended upwards several octaves; her struggles increased to a hyperactive frenzy.

Imagine three men; big, fat, and hairy. Men whose faces sported large bulbous noses, broad mouths ringed with sharp yellow fangs, and great red beards, with huge whiskers festooning elongated jaws. 

Shaggy reddish-brown hair cascaded from their heads. Brown hair carpeted their bulky bodies. The men's ears were tiny and set too far back in their huge heads to be human. 

Three pairs of dark, pupil less black eyes, set deep in broad faces, stared at the cowering girl. Giant paw-like hands held Cynthia in iron vise grips. 

Finally (a sight that terrified the girl to stark white panic), three thick tuberous cocks, long, hairy, and erect, and propped on gigantic softball testicles, pointed straight at her.

"AAAAAH!! Get away!! You're monsters! Freaks! Help!!" Cynthia screamed.

"You trespassed on our property, girl," growled Gurd.

"Ate our food," grunted Sigmund.

"Messed our beds," snarled Olaf.

"And left the television on, wasting our electricity," barked Gurd. "By ancient rights you be ours to do with as we please."

"I was wet! I was hungry!" Cynthia sobbed. "It was only going to be a little while, until my clothes dried. Please don't eat me!"

"Beg all you want girl," growled Sigmund. "The brothers Gundersson show no mercy to interlopers, especially if they're hot babes who fall into our beds."

"When we're done you'll be wet alright, grrrl!" growled Olaf.

"Aye! We'll fill you up, grrrl!" snarled Gurd.

"Oh nononono!!" cried Cynthia. She wriggled and struggled, an eel in the brothers' grip.

"Hold still grrrl, or else it'll go the worse for you," growled Sig.

"Brothers!" barked Olaf. "I know something that will make our task much easier!" He snuffled out of the room.

Gurd and Sig mounted opposite ends of the bed. Gurd sat on Cynthia's legs to keep her from kicking. Sig squeezed behind Cynthia and forced the cheerleader's arms behind her back, propping the girl against his massive chest.

Cynthia's breasts bobbed in terror. Her saucer blue eyes gazed at the "man" crouched on her legs. Fear sweat drenched her skin. She glanced about the room. "Oh please! Someone! Anyone!" she despaired.

Her nervous eyes occasionally darted to the bear-man's thick, fleshy shaft jutting from his furry balls. A bead of pre-cum welled at the tip, poised ominously near her wet pussy.

Cynthia squirmed but Sig's vice-like grip hindered her movements. Gurd's thick, pink tongue licked his mouth. He rumbled a menacing growl, smacking his lips. Cynthia felt sick, "Oh God, if I get out of this..."

The brothers heard Olaf rummage in the basement. He returned carrying a large glass jar. The jar contained a glowing, golden liquid. "Honey?" Cynthia thought.

"Freyja's Gold!" growled Sig, with a joyful bark.

"Excellent choice, brother!" snarled Gurd. Cynthia shrank from the lewd look on his face. "What is that stuff? What are you going to do?" she asked balefully.

"You'll find out soon enough, grrrl!" snarled Sig.

"Freyja's Gold!" laughed Gurd. "She coupled with a frost giant and spilled her cum, har, har! Flowers grew from her essence, Silver Purse flowers. Our bees make honey from their nectar. We Gunderssons have made the sacred honey for generations. We stay true to our mother goddess. You should feel honored; fortunate is the woman so anointed."

"I don't feel fortunate," muttered the squirming Cynthia.

"Oi! Brothers, hold her fast while I pour," said Olaf.

The young were-bear approached the bed. He raised the jar over his head and tipped. Cynthia's sweaty breasts quivered as liquid gold cascaded from the jar. 

Cool honey covered her breasts. The shock perked her nipples; Cynthia heaved and gasped. Olaf ran the jar over her body, covering her quivering torso, quaking belly, and restless legs in cool, sticky sweetness. He poured an extra thick layer on her pussy.

Cynthia's golden crowned rose drowned in thick syrup. Gurd allowed his thick moist shaft to be smothered as well. "Har! Har!" he laughed. "Candy for you my morsel." Cynthia wasn't sure she wanted his candy.

Olaf moved the jar to her face. Cynthia whipped her head to and fro but could not prevent the honey facial. Honey covered Cynthia's nose, forcing the cheerleader to open her mouth.

Golden sugar flowed over her tongue, overflowed her orifice, forcing the cheerleader to swallow the divine nectar. The aureate syrup choked the girl as she desperately gulped the honey into her belly.

"Oh God! I'm drowning! They're killing me!" she panicked. "I'm turning into honey baked Cynthia!" Her fearful thoughts clashed with a startling revelation, "Hey! This stuff tastes good!"

Sigmund, sensing the girl's distress, relaxed his grip and propped the cheerleader to a sitting position. 

Honey showered down the girl's golden hair, over her shoulders, down her back, to the ass. Some got on Sigmund, making his crotch and sizable cock sticky sweet as Gurd's. Soon the cheerleader was smothered, head to toe, in sugar sweet effluence.

Olaf poured the rest of the jar's contents over his own humungous dick. His penis, already erect, stiffened into iron hard rigidity. The sacred nectar turned his brothers' assets into rock hard throbbing pricks. The Gundersson brothers' softball sized sperm sacs inflated to basketballs.

The frenzy seeped into the were-bears' bodies. Freyja earned her reputation as a fertility goddess. The lust engorged brothers let the honey work its magic on the girl.

"What's happening to me?!" Cynthia thought. Heat bloomed in her belly and radiated outward. The heat entered her crotch; her pussy grew moist as her clit swelled. "'?' I'm wet!"

The cheerleader's skin blushed a soft pink; her nipples plumped into rush buds. Cynthia squirmed, a sinuous undulation. Outrage and terror washed against a tide of honey induced lust.

"I can't believe this is happening! (Oh God!) Three freak men are holding me captive! (! God! Those cocks are huge!) I'm covered in honey! (I'm wet!) They're about to rape me! (I'm sooo horny!) I've got to get out of here! (I want more!)

Cynthia's pink tongue licked sensually at her lips. Her honey coated skin gleamed in the afternoon light. The cheerleader's golden hair plastered in sticky wet curl lets to her shoulders. 

Sig loosened his grip. "I think our little pie is sweetened, brothers," he growled hoarsely. 

Cynthia's hands moved down her sticky body. One hand went to her boobs, tweaked a nipple, and pumped the flesh. The other roamed down her hitching belly to her caramelized crotch.

Glazed fingers dipped into her swollen vulva. Her own honey spilled out of her flower to mingle with the outer sweetness.

Cynthia looked at the bear man facing her; his honey coated cock dripped with pre-cum. She licked her lips and opened her legs wider. "Oooo! Mmmm!" she cooed. 

"Yes brothers, I believe she is," snarled Gurd. "Time to seed her."

Gurd, whose erect dick was closest to Cynthia's moist vagina, had the honor of first penetration. He grabbed her legs, raised them to his shoulders, and drilled forward. 

Cynthia's last shreds of sanity howled, "Noooo!" Her lust hissed, "Yesss!"

Gurd's glans brushed against Cynthia's clit. The mere touch sent spasms across the cheerleader's body; a spurt of cum splattered Gurd's candied stick. The were-bear's self control frayed. He wanted to be deep inside this honey before letting loose.

Cynthia gasped a lusty "Aaaah!" stunned by the hot climax. She watched the bear man slide into her body. The throbbing shaft made a soft, velvety "Ssshhh!" as it moved through her crevasse; pulsing veins and candy coated skin underwent a gradual immersion within her flesh.

Cynthia's eyes grew wide and she ground her teeth; Gurd's girth stretched her passage to its limit. "Uuuhhhnn!" she moaned. Her hands smeared honey and sweat across her torso. Her back arched into a pink and gold rainbow. Brothers Sig and Olaf rumbled and growled, letting Freyja's Gold build their lust.

A bulge marked the journey of Gurd's shaft through her pelvis. His penis' honeyed skin slid across her moistened walls; cum and honey mingled into a sugary brew. 

Gurd's sugar coated pubes moved closer. Honey gold and caramel brown fused together. Honey, cum, and sweat glued and gooed Gurd between the cheerleader's legs.

The were-bear started to pump; cum and honey splashed on the bed; gooey balls slapped against her lower gams. Cynthia's silk walls caressed Gurd's shaft, basting honey on his meat.

Each thrust inward drew a growl from the berserker. "Grr!...Grr!...Grr!" Cynthia replied with corresponding grunts, "Ugh!...Ugh!...Ugh!"

Words were not spoken; flesh and lust sounds dominated the room: the faint 'smack!' of Gurd's balls against Cynthia's ass; the 'Grr!..Ugh!..Grr!..Ugh!' back and forth of the fucking; the 'squeak!' of the bedsprings; and the heavy breaths of the four orgiasts. 

Sig and Olaf, unable to resist the berserker lust any longer, took positions over and under the cheerleader's body.

Gurd's thrusts drove Cynthia's body against Sig. Her honey and sweat slimed back smeared against his matted pelt. Cynthia's belly pumped in and out. She moved her hands over Gurd's shaft, feeling the warm, hard skin slide through her palms.

Sanity and reason were long gone from Cynthia's mind. Eros and Freyja's Gold ruled triumphant. Cynthia gave herself completely to lust; raging orgasms racked her body.

Sig and Olaf commenced their part in the orgy. Sig's candied glans brushed along the cheerleader's ass crack. Electric shivers raced up his shaft; Sig shuddered. "Grrr! Smooth as baby skin!" he growled.

The were-bear reached underneath the cheerleader to spread her cheeks. His steel-hard pole slid into her anus' moist tunnel. "Uuuunnng!" Cynthia moaned.

She clenched her eyes; salty tears beaded through the closed lids. The first bear man's huge cock stretched her pussy to the threshold. Now Cynthia underwent another painful reaming, as his brother thrust deep into her other hole. 

Sig pumped his shaft until its tip touched her rectum. The berserker's hairy crotch glued against her soft cheeks. 

Cynthia's ass and cunt holes were in close proximity. Sig and Gurd's humungous balls could not help but brush against each other. The touching testicles only excited the brothers. The fucking increased to frenzied levels. Sig placed his great paws on Cynthia's melons and kneaded their doughy softness.

Sig and Gurd's positions bent Cynthia into a 'V'. Gurd propped and held her legs; Sig held her upper body. The cheerleader rested on a cushion of thrusting, pumping bear flesh. Now Olaf stepped between the 'V' to straddle Cynthia's lust-bloated body.

The berserker's giganto-cock, dripping with pre-cum and honey, swayed inches from the cheerleader's face. Sticky syrup beaded on Cynthia's breasts.

Olaf took the big throbber in his paws and held the tip to Cynthia's wet lips. "Taste the flesh of a son of Odin, grrrl!" he growled.

A thick candy-coated treat dangled inches from Cynthia's mouth. She licked her lips, savoring the sweet/salt taste of honey and jizz. She wrapped her sticky sweet hands around Olaf's gooey confection. The cheerleader opened her mouth to inhale the largest cock she ever sucked. 

To Be Continued...



BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 01.3



Story One---The Sticky Cheerleader: Conclusion

Cynthia's two ex-boyfriends bore testimony to her broken chastity. Until the bears, however, the young woman exercised conservative sexual tastes. The bear fucking destroyed the old Cynthia.

The honey covered blonde's tongue slithered around Olaf's sweet sausage. Bear syrup trickled down her throat. 

"Grrrrooaann!" Olaf moaned. His great balls bobbed along Cynthia's breasts, touching Sig's massaging fingers. He grabbed the blonde's honey-slick hair, brought her head forward, and plumbed his shaft deep.

Cynthia's plump lips milked Olaf's cock like a Vegas prostitute. She took him in to the edge of her esophagus, braced for a blast of cum. 

A cocoon of hot, sticky flesh enwrapped the cheerleader. The brothers' configuration connected them into a carnal circle: Sig to Gurd's balls, Gurd's head to Olaf's ass, and Sig's hands sandwiched between Olaf's balls and Cynthia's globes.

The four orgiasts bonded into a mass of gooey, sweaty, flesh; grunts and growls, under laid with faint moans, emanated from the sugary mass. "Grrr!...Ugh!...Mmmm!...Grrr!...Ugh!...Mmmm!"

The brothers thrust into the young woman's body in unison. The growls ("Grrr!...Grrr!...Grrr!") synchronized into a primal call, responded by rhythmic moans ("Mmmm!...Mmmm!...Mmmm!"). The sounds assumed a singsong quality, "Grrr! Mmmm! Grrr! Mmmm!"

Cynthia rolled her eyes, overwhelmed by ecstasy. Olaf's cock in and outed her hot, wet mouth. She teased the were-bear's soft flesh with light nips of her teeth. 

The brothers' growls vibrated the walls. Cynthia's moans ululated into howls. "Oh God! I'm cumming! We're all cumming!" she moaned. "Grrr!...Grrr!...Grrooaarrr!!" the brothers roared.

Orgasms exploded on, over, and inside the four orgiasts. Gallons of semen pumped into the blonde's hot body. Cynthia worked frantically to "Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!" the flood of cream filling her mouth. The soft skin of her belly brushed Olaf's balls, as it plumped with Gurd's porridge.

The cheerleader's body proved unable to contain the man juice. Semen blasted out of her orifices; bear spunk covered all bodies.

Olaf withdrew his cock from Cynthia's mouth before her lungs filled. The were-bear splooged the gasping girl; bear cream showered over her face and boobs, while Sig gave her a jizz enema. Cynthia's plumped belly expelled the excess, sopping Gurd's crotch and Olaf's ass.

The berserker wave crested and receded. The Gunderssons exhaled a loud "Howl!" and settled on the cum-soaked bed. Cynthia coughed out cum and sucked in fetid air. 

The were-bears lay around her. A sticky effluence of cum, honey, and sweat covered all. Cynthia's post-coital mind reeled.

The experience went beyond her imagination; outrage clashed with new possibilities. She lay immersed in warm gooey flesh, questioning whether to escape and call the police, or stay and explore the new paradigm.

"Arrrr!" growled Sig. "That was fucking cool brothers!"

"Aye!" barked Olaf. "We nailed that ass!"

"Oi!" grunted Gurd. "How long since we had some good cherry pie?!"

"Too long!" chorused all three.

*'!' Fuckers! I'm calling the police!* Cynthia fumed. Her after sex confusion vanished under a wave of outrage. These three 'men' reamed her to within an inch of her life; now they boasted around her like she didn't exist. 

"Cough! Guys, I'm still here!"

"Aye Grrrrl!" snarled Olaf. "We be not through with you yet. To the shower brothers."

"Oh no!" gulped the cheerleader. "Oh God, what now?!" Visions of a nasty death invaded her brain. "They can't leave me as a witness. Not after this; I'm fucked!"

The brothers rose from the bed. Olaf lifted Cynthia and slung her over his shoulder. The young woman's belly flattened as jizz poured out of her pussy; cream ran down Olaf's chest. 

She put up a brief struggle. "No use fighting, grrl," laughed Sig. "Few women escape the clutches of the Gunderssons"

Cynthia raised herself on Olaf's shoulder. "What are you going to do?" she asked fearfully.

"We're all taking a shower," laughed Gurd.

The dripping gooey quartet tromped to the bathroom; into the shower they went. A turn of the faucet brought steaming hot rain. 

Cynthia swayed on her feet; she stood upright for the first time in hours. The brothers poured soap and shampoo over themselves and the cheerleader. Bear spunk, honey, and sweat ran down the drain. 

The Gunderssons surrounded the young blonde. "Time for a cleaning, grrrl," snarked Olaf. Cynthia sighed, resigned to another reaming. "I never thought I'd grow used to big hairy men," she thought. "And so quickly." Now, instead of hot and sticky, everyone was wet and slick.

The "cleaning", a series of fucks and penetrations, commenced. The Gunderssons subjected Cynthia to a game of pork and switch. Positions changed with clockwork regularity. 

Olaf came behind the cheerleader, bent back, and lifted the young woman, impaling her on his hard wood. He rammed deep into her tight moist anus. Her wet pussy was exposed, wide open to Gurd. 

Gurd knelt down, opened his mouth, and covered her cunt. His big red tongue swirled over Cynthia's clit, penetrating deep to suck the juice from her flower. 

Sigmund, meanwhile, bent to suck at Cynthia's swollen buds. The four way fuck drove the blonde out of control.

"Uuuunnngh!" she howled. The ram-suck-suck shattered the cheerleader's mind into sex saturated fragments. "Aaaahhh! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Ream me out!" she screamed. Frenzied sexual profanities (the old Cynthia never spoke thus to her boyfriends) expectorated from her luscious lips.

The mutual cumming came soon after. Cynthia's cunt splurted moisture, gulped down by Gurd, while bear splooge spurted from an ass unable to handle the cream flood. The Gunderssons were just starting.

A synchronized shift, later and Cynthia was on all fours, sucking out Gurd, while Sig reamed her anus and, after a thorough washing, Olaf's dick drilled her cunt. The berserker's hands milked her boobs and his mouth masticated the cheerleader's pink tits. 

A third shift saw Cynthia suspended between Sig and Gurd, berserker cocks embedded in her pussy and ass, the cheerleader bouncing up and down, her hands pumping her boobs, mouth wide open and moaning ("Oh!...Oh!...Oh!), while Olaf waited his turn.

Hours were spent in a swirl of water and fucking. The Gunderssons penetrated Cynthia over and over. Her womb, stomach, and ass overflowed with spunk, the excess ran down the drain. 

Cynthia came and came and came into unconsciousness; before the shower faded to dark she heard these words, "You are our sow now, grrrl."

The brothers sat in the living room. Naked Cynthia, jizz-filled belly slightly distended, slept on the couch. 

"A good time brothers," sighed Olaf.

"Damn straight," agreed Gurd.

"Odin bless Freyja's Gold!" laughed Sigmund. "Did you see her at the end, really into it, she's our sow alright!"

"I'm going to need a new bed Sigmund," said Olaf. "The old one must be burned."

"Aye, and there's cleaning to be done," said Gurd.

"Aye, I'll get on the bed tomorrow. I be bushed...We scored today brothers."

"Aye!"

Epilogue

Cynthia staggered home late that evening. Her volcanic parents erupted with questions.

"I'm fine...really. I got caught in the storm. Some people took me in...I fell asleep."

"Oh, we really have to thank them," her mother said.

"They were Gunderssons."

"Oh," her mother replied. Gunderssons lived all over the area.

"Mom, I'm going to bed. I'm...uh...tired."

"Ok dear." Mrs. Gold looked at her daughter closely. Something seemed different, "Are you sure you're alright, honey?"

"I'm fine." Cynthia turned to walk up the stairs; she paused, "Mom, what's a sow?"

"What dear?"

"Never mind."

She walked into the bedroom and took off her clothes. Cynthia lay naked on the bed, running her hands over the soft curve of her belly. Her belly would flatten, but not for long, she knew. "I'll see them again," she thought, "A bear's sow...are all Gunderssons like that?" Cynthia slept in her bed.

The End



BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 02.1



Bears, Porridge, and Honey:

A Pair of Goldilocks by The Preve

Story Two---The Honey Trap: Part One

'Trinity Bridge Motel-Vacancy' 

"Good!" gasped Phil. "A life saver."

Phillip Locke, college sophomore, returning to Midwestern after the worst spring break ever, pushed the hunk of shit, formerly his rented car, into the parking lot. All-in-all, the climax of a bad week. "And one week to go. At least I'm out of Florida." And away from his weasel ex-best friend, currently back in Miami, balling the girl Phillip crushed on.

Phillip looked around. "This place is a shithole." Worse, the parking lot was deserted, "Guess I'm the only guest."

The motel consisted of one large house ("Not quite the Bates Motel.") and ten small cabins. Phil stepped onto the porch, hoping his bad luck streak was at an end: a series of disasters, beginning with the thing in Miami, continuing to the wrong turn on the highway, and ending with the simultaneous demise of his car and cell phone; road signs pointed to the motel.

"Get to the motel," he thought. "Charge the battery, spend the night, call the tow truck in the morning, and maybe I can be out of this dump by tomorrow."

Phillip's bad luck, however, extended to the house. 'Back in an hour!'

"Fuck!" he shouted after seeing the sign in the window. The sun was down and Phil didn't want to wait in a darkened parking lot. He thumped the door in frustration...and was surprised when it creaked open. The manager forgot to lock the door. Phillip smiled, "Bad security, good for me."

The light switch was next to the door; a flip illuminated the lobby. Phil expected a classically seedy motel. The tidy, well kept living room, with a desk for reception, startled him. The furniture was larger than normal, but Phil felt a twinge of homesickness. "They have to be nice people. Please God, let them be nice."

The name on the desk was Brunhilde Gudrunsdottir, Manager. A large ledger, spread open, and a wall of keys, behind an oversized chair, completed the simple set up.

Phil looked in the ledger. The date of the last signature clued him to the rarity of guests. He went behind the desk and selected three keys. "These motels have shitty rooms. I better take three just in case."

He wrote his name in the ledger and left a note: 'Dear Ms. Gudrunsdottir. You weren't here so I checked myself in. I hope you don't mind. I can pay in the morning. Phillip Locke.'

He returned to the car, got his gym bag and went to the cabins. The first two cabins confirmed the motel's shitholiness. Cabin one seemed to be a storage room for old mattresses, blankets, and pillows. Phillip saw a few piles of old clothing. The place reeked of mildew. "Nope," Phillip said.

Cabin two had nothing; spare hard walls, a concrete floor, no furniture, not even a toilet. "Double nope," said Phillip.

Cabin three was just right: a typical motel room with a bed, desk, closet, alarm, TV, and furnished bathroom. "Yes!" cried Phillip. Everything worked: the TV aired the local news, the alarm set to nine a.m., and the desk had a working coffee maker. 

Phil wore a coat of dirt, sweat, and grime from the five mile car push. He set the coffee maker and made straight for the shower. The shower worked perfectly. "My luck has changed," he thought. 

Phil stripped while the water warmed. A large mirror sat above the sink. Phillip glanced at himself. Memories of the past week oozed like pus from a festering wound. A wrecked friendship, public humiliation, and shattered self esteem, all because of his one great handicap: "Short, short, short."

Phillip inherited a lot of attributes from his mother: a snub nose, blue eyes, and slender figure, but he wished she hadn't given him her short stature. Phillip's big brother, Will, got all the height, his Dad's gift. The only thing Phil got from his Dad was blonde hair. 

Will tormented Phil from childhood through adolescence, and grew into the kind of frat boy jock Phil despised. Phil's Dad made it clear he preferred his athletic older son to his younger delicate son. Phil, naturally, was far closer to his mother.

A miserable 'sigh!' escaped Phil's lips. In a different world Phil would be considered cute. He was slender but not boney; stubborn lingering baby fat softened his features and gave him a youthful appearance; his body hair never got past peach fuzz, save in the pubic region (and barely at that).

He tried to grow a beard once, but only managed a few whiskers. It looked terrible and, as if his face added insult to injury, didn't grow back after he shaved.

Phil often wondered if his parents lied about his birthday. His mother reassured him; cops nearly arrested his Dad twice when they were dating because they thought she was underage. Phil understood; he always had to show ID for R-rated movies. Even then, many ushers thought the ID was a fake.

Worse, Phil knew, he'd probably look this way for awhile. His mother was in her late forties but could easily pass for thirty. Phil figured if he inherited his mother's genes, a long period of youthfulness was in his future. It did not bode well for his social life; high school, college, and the catastrophic spring break illustrated the point.

Were he an actor or singer, Phil knew, he might be swimming in babe flesh. He wasn't bad looking by any means. He had a nice sized dick, not too big, not too short; but Phil had no talent and, when most of the hot babes in high school and college were taller by at least a half foot, guys like Phil were instantly consigned to Geek hell. Miami was supposed to change that.

Phil wasn't alone in his geekdom. Jamie Polonsky was his best friend. Jamie was fat until his high school sophomore year. Phil and Jamie were best buds from elementary. The short one and the fat one endured the slings and arrows of the 'Ins' from elementary through high school. 

In the second year Jamie discovered that, unlike Phil, who couldn't help his height, he could do something about his weight. Jamie started working out, running, watching his diet; fat turned to muscle. It helped when he grew another foot, distributing the rest of the fat across his body. Short, fat Jamie became tall, handsome Jamie. Phil grew two inches.

Jamie became popular with the girls and joined the football team. Phil was rejected by the chess club. In spite of the change in cliques Phil and Jamie remained friends, or so Phil thought.

Sophomore year, college: Phil and Jamie tried to join the local fraternity. Jamie got in; the frat boys played with Phil for a month or so before saying no. Phil was crushed but he and Jamie stayed friends, or so Phil thought.

Spring break, Miami: Jamie invited Phil to come to Miami. Phil was reluctant, fearing how his bad luck with girls would fare against the bikini crowd. Besides, the beach would be crawling with frat boys. Then Jamie mentioned Julie Bonet, a sorority girl, and Phil's crush. Jamie, cool with the girls, promised a Phil/Julie hook-up. Phil took the bait.

Phil asked questions about Julie during the drive. Jamie was uncharacteristically evasive; that should have raised Phil's suspicions, but he and Jamie were friends, or so Phil thought.

The Miami Hilton, third day of spring break: Jamie was rich enough to spring for the room. The hook-up went as promised. Phil and beautiful Julie were alone, getting hot and heavy, when Julie suggested a kinky game: a swim in the pool. Julie would wear Phil's Speedos while Phil wore her bikini. 

"'A stupid, silly, fucking dangerous idea, I'll do it!'" lust-blinded Phil thought. Phil gave her his Speedos; Julie went on ahead. He put on the bikini, common sense and survival instincts erased by visions of a Speedo-clad Julie in nothing else.

He went to the pool expecting Julie. Instead he got flash bulbs and "Whooo! Ha! Ha! Ha!..." His eyes cleared and there they were: frat boys, sorority girls, invitees; Julie in a long t-shirt, cruel smirk on her face; Jamie standing next to her, a guilty look on his own.

Jamie whispered to the man standing next to him. Phil recognized him; Chuck Dugan, head of the fraternity, A-one asshole. Phillip knew the score now: he was the 'goat'; the designated punk for spring break. Julie was the bait, Jamie, the fisherman.

Chuck whispered something to Jamie. Jamie's face was pensive, until Julie wrapped her arm around his and whispered in his ear. Jamie blushed and smiled and, with a final guilty glance, left Phil to his fate. 

The fact that most of the partiers carried cameras and I-phones, compounded Phil's torture. Two football players blocked the way back, so Phil had to make his stiff way through, 'Way to go Philly!'s,' backslaps, whistles, and laughter. Phil was goosed a couple of times.

He managed to stagger to his hotel room, ripped off the bikini, and sat on the bed, quivering with rage and humiliation. Then he curled up and cried.

It got worse in the morning. Phil woke, got out of bed, and immediately packed his bags. He flipped on the TV out of habit. The news got his attention. Stephanopoulos was talking about the latest YouTube sensation. The video showed it all: Phil was officially 'Bikini Boy'. 

"Awww fuck!" It was everywhere. "I'm fucked!"

Phil crammed his clothes into the bags and squirreled out of the hotel, barely pausing to check out. The front desk clerk's mouth suspiciously twitched. Phil swore he heard a faint snicker as he left. 

He made a quick trip to UPS to ship most of his clothes ahead. Phil heard the shipping clerk whisper "Bikini Boy" to his assistant. 

A trip to a car rental got him the hunk of shit. Now Phil was in a fleabag motel, staring at a mirror, contemplating a bleak future. 

In the shower Phil thought, "I can't go back to college." He was a 'national celebrity', a laughingstock; and the prospect of facing the frat, Jamie, and Her...too much.

"And I can't go home." Phil had enough problems with his father. If Bill senior felt disdain for his younger son, imagine what he would think of 'Bikini Boy'. Phil's mother would support him but she deferred to her husband. 

The one consolation was his brother no longer lived at home. Will left for fame and fortune as a pro football player. "Face it Phil, you have no place to go."

After stepping out and drying off, Phil found a final piece of bad luck: dirty clothes in his gym bag. In his rush to get out of Miami, Phil had shipped his clean clothes through UPS. 

"Motherfucker! That's it! I'm done! Fuck!" Phil cried. He never slept naked before, but Phil was too tired, frustrated, and pissed to care. Throwing himself on the bed, Phil sandwiched his head between two pillows and embraced oblivion.

He slept through the alarm. When he finally woke, his clothes were gone...and so was the car.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, looking out the window. "Where's the car?!" Bad enough to oversleep and find it was late morning, the alarm clock off, and his gym bag (which, along with his dirty clothes, had his cell phone and wallet, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!") missing, but now Phil was effectively stranded in the middle of nowhere, incommunicado, broke, and not even the clothes on his back. "What's the matter, God?" he sighed. "You hate short people?"

Phil sat on the bed, found the remote, and turned on the TV. The first image was his father, "!"

Phil groaned: CNN was interviewing his Dad about his younger son appearing in a bikini. "Of course," Phil numbly thought. "Older son is a famous quarterback, younger son's in a bikini. Yep! Fuck! Home is definitely out!" Disappointed looks from his father were normal for Phil, but the perplexed look on his mother's face made him want to cry...and Will's thoughts....

Phil switched off the TV and lay back on the bed. "Suicide," he thought. "Why not? I can just go to the bathroom, break the mirror, and open my veins...or maybe use the bed sheet, hang myself. No one would know...or care...it's not as if I have an ID... or a life."

He lay on the bed, bleak thoughts of ending it growing like cancer. Just when the despair began to make sense, 'Knock! Knock! Knock!', "?", 'Knock! Knock! Knock!'

Phil left the bed. His first impulse was to shout, "Go away!" He stopped and thought, "What am I thinking?" A few seconds later, "What was I thinking?"

He crept to the window to peak outside but a bush obscured the doorway. The door had no peephole so Phil crept close. "Who is it?" 

"Lou Gudrunsdottir," was the reply. "I co-manage the motel. I just came to see if you're ok."

The voice sounded strange, husky, slightly high for a male. "Uh, just a second." Phil searched the room; he couldn't greet the guy starkers. The bathroom towels were missing so Phil wrapped a bed sheet around his waist.

He opened the door, "Hi, I'm Phil and...." It wasn't a guy. It was a light blue halter neck tank top, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and a light pair of khaki shorts. The view was all Phil's eyes could take at the moment. The view blocked everything else.

Phil would not think much of tank tops and shorts but for one riveting aspect: two huge basketball-sized globes dented the fabric before him. Said globes were punctuated by two half dollars, denting the tank top further.

Phil's introduction ended with a "Guh!" It wasn't just confronting the two largest gazonga's he'd ever seen: it was the chest upon which those bazooms rested. Phil's blue eyes panned up...and up...and up...to gaze upon the face of the single largest woman in his entire life.

Her face was broad and strong jawed, with a broad nose and large mouth. Wavy, honey blonde hair cascaded to her wide square shoulders. Her eyes were large golden hazel jewels; her cheekbones high and rosy. She was huge, huge not as in fat huge, but huge in all the right places; from the wide curvy hips to the broad shoulders.

Her legs were long, large, and beautifully muscled, like sculpted stone, with a light dusting of golden hair. The tank top covered most of her torso but what skin Phil could see was heavily muscled.

It took awhile for Phil to take her in. She was easily eight feet tall, her bazooms well in proportion to her huge figure, like Jayne Mansfield on steroids. "Horrifyingly beautiful," was the best way to describe it. 

He didn't say a word, but stood staring in gap-mouthed disbelief. Women could be big, tall, or big and tall...but not like this. 

"Hi," she said with a voice like whisky and dark honey. "I'm Louella Gudrunsdottir." She stuck out her hand.

"Guh!" gulped Phillip. She took his hand and gave it a brief shake. "You might want to close your mouth," she said amusedly.

"Oh! Uh! Er...!"

"It's ok, most guests act that way at first. The few that we get actually, ha! We Gudrunsdottirs are big women."

"Wow! She sounds like Kathleen Turner!" Phil thought. "Uh, I..uh..well..."

"Oh! You're probably wondering where your clothes are. Well we read your note and came to your cabin and you were out cold, so I took your bag to the laundry. Our washing machine is on the fritz, see, so we have to wash your clothes in town. We only have one laundry and Harry Grogan, he owns the laundry. He's backed up at the moment, so it might be a day or two."

"Well...uh..er...um (God! I feel like a kid!)...those were my only clothes."

"Oh!" she blushed. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know! Oh, I see. That's why you're wearing the bed sheet."

"Um...my cell phone and wallet were in the bag...and where's the car?"

"Oh! Brunhilde, she's my sissy, had Tom Grogan, he's Harry's nephew, tow it. You left the car keys at reception, and Brunie thought it would be better if the car was closer to your cabin, so when the car wouldn't start, she called Tom. Tom will probably send you a bill soon. So you mean you don't have any clothes at all?"

"Um, no. (God! She's...kinda hot...I think!)"

"Oh! Wow! Um, look, I'll go back to the house and see if I can scrounge up something for you. Guests sometimes leave clothes, I'm sure I'll find a few."

"Well, uh...thanks," Phil was still stunned.

"Back in a few," Louella said, and strode off.

Phil watched her until she entered the house, "....Wow!" He closed the door and went to the bed. "Wow! I've never seen...geez! The size of those...triple D's at least....and she's huge!" He let the bed sheet drop from his waist. He had an erection, penis jutting long and pink from his crotch. "I need a shower," he thought. "I need to cool down...I think."

The soap helped considerably. He watched his cream swirl down the drain and thought, "She's so big, who do I tell? Damn she's hot!" 

When he came out of the shower the bed sheets were gone.

"What the fuck?! Why'd she do that?! She even took the pillows!" Phil thought Louella was playing a joke. Now he had nothing to cover himself. "Stuck naked in the middle of nowhere. Oh this just gets better."

Exasperated, Phil sat on the bed and fumbled for the remote. Nothing on TV except 'The View' ('Bikini Boy' was a hot topic), game shows, soap operas, and the news, "Calls to Phillip Locke aka 'Bikini Boy' went unan.... 'click!'"

"Now they know my name, terrific." He flopped down on the bed, arms and legs spread, staring at the ceiling. "How did this happen?" A week ago he had family, a best friend, money, and clothes. Now he was literally stripped bare. 

"I don't feel anything." Not towards the Gudrunsdottirs for stealing his clothes, or Jamie for his weasel betrayal, or his father for being a shitty parent. "I'm numb," he realized. The bed spread was the final blow. "I think my mind is shutting down."

His thoughts turned to Lou, "How does she look naked?" Phil didn't have time to give in to sex fantasies. He just started to feel the blood rush to his dick when, 'Knock! Knock! Knock!' Phil went to the door and cracked it open. "Who's there?"

"It's Lou, I have some bad news."

"You mean other than taking my bed sheets? Was that supposed to be funny?"

"No it's...wait! Your bed sheets?! Oh! Oh dear! That was probably Elena! She's in charge of beds and bathrooms. She took everything to the town laundry. Oh dear! I forgot to tell her about your trouble! Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"Great! So now what am I going to wear?"

"That's the bad news. We only have women's clothing. Men aren't throwing away clothes these days. Would you be willing to wear...?"

"No!"

The vehemence of Phil's negative startled Lou. "Well! Um, well! I'd scrounge up one of our bed sheets but Elena took everything. We're going to be without bed sheets for a few days."

Phil sighed, "Well that's just...God! Why am I not surprised? Look Miss Gudrunsdottir ('Call me Lou.' 'Ok Lou.'), I've just had the single worst week of my life, and now I'm stuck in a motel, completely naked, everything's gone," Phil's stomach growled, "And now I'm hungry and I can't go to a store or restaurant." 

"It's not as bad as that. You can eat at the house. We serve guests all the time."

"Uh...Lou...uh, no clothes? Um, why don't you bring the food here?"

"Oh no! We have strict rules. Guests must either eat in town or at the house. Our last guests shoved food down a sewer line. The whole system backed up. Most of the cabins were completely flooded. It created serious problems. No, you have to eat at the house."

Phil couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But...but...I'm naked! It's an extenuating circumstance!" he sputtered.

"I'm sorry Phil but we Gudrunsdottirs are strict with the rules. Um..look..can I come in?"

"What?! Hell no!"

"Look Phil, think about it. If your week is as bad as you say, what's one more embarrassment? You have to come out sometime, and who's to know? Other than me and my sissies, I mean?"

"Well, there's I-phones, the internet, YouTube...."

"We don't have those things here. We like life simple. Besides, at some point in your life, a woman is going to see you naked. I may as well be first. Well...second, counting your mother."




BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 02.1



"It's crazy, but in a crazy way, she's got a point!" Phil incredulously thought. "And she's hot. But, then again, the last hot girl tricked me into a bikini...but there aren't any frat boys...I think."

Phil took a deep breath and opened the door, praying not to see flashbulbs, and hear 'Way to go Philly's. He stepped back; eight feet of large curvy woman stepped into the room. Phil's mouth couldn't resist popping open. Her looks were still difficult to comprehend.

Lou gazed down at Phil with a cocked eyebrow. "Well, I don't know your hang up. You definitely have nothing to be ashamed about."

"Well...er...um...(Good grief! I'm doing it again!)...I'm...short. (Short?! That's all I can say?!! Short?!)"

"Of course you're short silly. Everyone's short to me."

"It didn't...well...come out the way I intended," Phil replied.

"I suspect not. A lot of men react that way. You should see my sissies. Men go dumb when they see them. Well...turn around. Let me get a good look at you."

"?! Excuse me?"

"You're already naked. Step into it further. Let's see how you look on all sides."

Phil's expression hovered between indignation and shock. He did not know whether to be embarrassed, pissed, or amused. He twirled around, arms slightly spread, completing his turn to face an amused Lou.

"You have a very nice ass," she said.

Phil's jaw dropped. A woman, a big, hot woman, just told him he had a nice ass. No girl ever commented favorably on his anatomy. Phil would think Lou was joking if not for the matter-of-fact tone to her voice. "I...uh...I...don't know what to say."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of what you have. Me and my sisters were visiting relatives in Denmark. They took us to a museum with some statues by this sculptor, Bertel Thorvaldsen I think. Well, there was this statue of a shepherd boy and his dog. You look a lot like him."

Phil had never heard of Bertel Thorvaldsen but, "(She thinks I look like a statue?) I...wow! No one's said that before...most girls...well, I don't get many compliments."

Lou sat down on the bed; the bed creaked. "Most girls never know what they're missing. It's the same with boys. You think short's bad, try being six feet tall in seventh grade, and not just me, my sissies got it too. We toughed it out. Look Phil, people like us aren't for jocks and cheerleaders. We're for people who like...well, different things."

Phil was silent, ("That...that was actually good advice."). It said everything, ("I never had a chance with Julie. How could I be so gullible?"). He just wished Jamie hadn't thrown away their friendship for her. 

It felt strange, coming to this epiphany while standing nude in a motel, with a woman who, even sitting down, towered over him. "Jamie would love this story if he were still my friend," Phil thought. His stomach growled.

"Oh! I can hear that from here," Lou said. She got up from the bed. "Well let's put some grub in you. I make some mean pancakes." She strode out the door. Phil hesitated, took a deep breath, "May as well step in it further," he grinned and followed.

To Be Continued...



BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 02.2



Bears, Porridge, and Honey:

A Pair of Goldilocks

Story Two---The Honey Trap: Part Two

When Phil checked in, he hadn't noticed family pictures. Now, while exploring the house, he found a photo album.

Lou was in the kitchen, making breakfast. The clang of pots and pans, and the smell of sausage filled the house; Phil's mouth watered. The photo album had few pictures, and all were black and white. They offered a few clues to the family.

One picture showed three girls, one wearing a graduation robe, Phil took to be in their early teens. The caption read 'Lou, Brunie, and Lena at Lou's fifth grade graduation'. "Fifth grade?" he thought. Louella looked thirteen at least, while the other girls looked like high school students. The caption inscribed their ages: 10, 18, and 13 respectively.

Elena had dark hair while Brunhilde's color was indeterminate. "Guess I'll have to wait to meet her," he thought.

Another picture showed the girls with a man, obviously their father. The caption read 'Johanne Gundersson and Daughters'. Johanne was a huge man, "He's where the girls got their height. They must have gotten their looks from their mother, though." Johanne was butt ugly. The picture showed a man with a craggy, pockmarked face, bulbous warty nose, and, Phil could swear, a jagged tooth protruding from his fat, wrinkled lips.

Johanne's enormous head was crowned by a frizzied, bushy, bird's nest and framed by thick wiry sideburns, leading to a sheep's wool beard.

The next picture confirmed Phil's suspicions about the mother. It showed a beautiful, voluptuous, large breasted woman with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight narrow nose. The caption read 'Gudrun Gundersson, beloved mother'. "Damn!" Phil thought. "She's beautiful. What did she see in him?"

He closed the album and looked around. "It's like a creaky, old Victorian with big furniture," he thought. Everything was oversized, hardly surprising given the residents. The house was a one story with a basement. The main floor contained the living room and kitchen.

Not wanting to disturb Lou while she cooked, Phil decided to explore the basement. "Exploring the basement of a strange house, not a good idea," warned Phil's instincts. "Everything's weird already, may as well step into it further," he replied.

The passage was a well lit set of carpeted stairs. Phil found a hallway at the bottom. On one side was a wall constructed of thick bricks of frosted glass. Half way down was a sliding glass door. Phil opened the door and found himself staring at a huge vault of a bathroom.

The floor, the wall, and even the ceiling were white tiled. Three huge mirrors were set in the wall to the left. Next to each of the mirrors was a medicine cabinet; each the size of a large wardrobe. Below the cabinets were sinks, the size of small tubs, with polished chrome faucets and gleaming white porcelain. A huge toilet sat in the corner.

The right side of the bathroom contained an open shower. A deep tub, almost a small swimming pool, was set in the floor. The place was reminiscent of a Turkish bathhouse. 

It took a while for Phil to notice his gaping mouth. "It's getting to be a habit with these people," he thought; and he hadn't met the other sisters yet. Everything in the house was huge. Phil felt even more diminutive. The strange part was he felt more small than naked. "If they shower here, what is their bedroom like?"

A single large door, across from the bathroom, led to the bedroom. The room was circular with three giant walk-in closets. It had all the female things, just oversized. Three giant cabinets, stocked with feminine products, jugs of perfume, and makeup stood by large mirrors, similar to the bathroom. Phil stopped to view himself. "Do I look like a statue?"

Maybe he was a little pale. He had no scars, birthmarks, or acne scars. Other than his head, and a little in his crotch, his body hair was almost non-existent. Certainly his body had no flab. Phil couldn't understand it; he never exercised and he hated sports. He could detect some muscle tone, but not that of an athlete.

Phil looked at his face. He didn't have the macho square jaw of his older brother. His chin was nice and rounded; his cheeks were smooth. Phil's eyes were wide like his mother's, "I think I got her thick lashes." 

Phil's father gave him his straight blonde hair. He brushed the bangs from his forehead. His hair never seemed to get past his ears. In the back it fell no further than the nape of his neck. "I can't even grow sideburns," he thought. 

He tried to find a word, a way to describe himself: "Smooth...yeah that's it." Smooth cheeked, smooth skinned, and smooth muscled...he turned around and looked at his ass, "I'm smooth there too." 

"She thinks I have a nice ass. I don't know...maybe. Maybe I do look like a statue." Phil decided he was tired of 'maybe's' and turned to look at the final piece of this strange room: the enormous bed set in the middle.

It was a giant monster of a bed, larger than three king-sizes put together. The edge came to his chin. Three pillows, each as large as a fair-sized sleeping bag, sat on the mattress. "They sleep in the same bed!" he realized. "Weird," but then, he was standing naked in a women's bedroom, in a strange house. "I can't cast stones. I'm already down the rabbit hole."

'Bzzz!' "?" The sound came from above. Phil looked up and saw a speaker set in the ceiling. "Phil, wherever you are, breakfast is ready," Lou said.

Phil entered the kitchen, "You have an intercom?" Lou, setting a large mountain of pancakes and sausage on the table, replied, "It's a large house. Did you have fun?"

"Your bathroom...wow! And you sleep in the same bed?"

"Well, it's convenient for us," a new, husky voice replied.

Phil, startled, turned to the back door. Once again his bottom jaw hit the floor, "Guh!"

"Oh! Lena, you're just in time. Brunie's out front putting the tools away." Lou said.

"Her other sister's here too?" Phil asked himself. Vague and abstract thoughts were all he could muster; rationality was subsumed by the vision before him.

Elena Gudrunsdottir stepped through the door. Phil experienced a near repeat of his first meeting with Lou; 'near' because of certain marked differences. 

She wore a plain, albeit large, white t-shirt and dark blue denim shorts. The shirt did little to conceal the silver dollar areolas jutting into the fabric. Elena was, impossibly, bigger than her sister. "She's got to be almost nine feet!" shocked Phil thought. "And those...double F's at least." Huge barely began to cover it.

She had a larger chest than her sister, but slightly narrower hips. Her midsection seemed thicker but her body shape suggested muscles. Elena resembled her sister in the strong jaw, large mouth, and high rosy cheekbones; but her nose was long, narrow, and straight like her mother's.

Her hair was a rich, deep, dark brown, cascading in curls to her wide, wide shoulders; and her face sported the deepest blue eyes Phil had ever seen, including his own. Her legs, like her sister's, were long and muscled, with a light dusting of dark hair.

"He doesn't say much," Elena noted. "And why's he naked?"

"Give him time," Lou replied. "And he's naked because we took his clothes to the wash. He has nothing to wear."

"Wow! Elena sounds like Virginie Ledoyen" Phil thought.

"Oh," Elena remarked. "Don't we have any...?"

"Nope. No men's. And he won't wear a dress."

"Well he's in trouble, then, 'cause three of Harry's washers broke down, right smack in the middle of cleaning. Everything has to be done over and our stuff's way down the list."

"Damn!" Lou cursed. "But we're a motel. Shouldn't we get priority?"

"We're a motel that barely gets any guests. And the Bakers' wedding is tomorrow. Their clothes get priority."

"Darn!"

Phil finally recovered his voice. "Uh...uh...um, you wouldn't have happened to see my wallet and phone, would you?"

"Oh! You mean that little thing that screwed up one of Harry's machines. Sorry it's a total loss. Don't know about your wallet. Harry's complained about some break-ins though."

"Shit!" Phil thought.

Elena looked at him, right eyebrow cocked. "You know, you look kind of cute. Maybe losing your clothes wasn't a bad thing."

"'!' (She thinks I'm cute!)"

"I hope you don't mind prancing around in your birthday suit for the next few days," Elena said, sitting at the table.

"Well....I....uh."

"You're right, Lou, he does have a cute ass." Phil jumped at the sound of Lauren Bacall, or rather Brunhilde, who'd crept quietly behind him. He turned around and found himself staring a floral print.

Phil backed up....and backed up....and backed up until his upper back hit the edge of the kitchen table. He craned his neck, trying to comprehend the impossible vision of Brunhilde Gudrunsdottir. "This...this...is too much," he thought fearfully. "It's impossible!"

Overwhelming was as near an insult as possible to describe Brunhilde. She was beyond anything describable. Nearly ten feet tall, with boom-booms Phil estimated were somewhere in the G-range (if there was such a thing), her curvy, muscular body matched Lou's in the hips. 

She wore a sheer, strapless floral print dress and sandals. She had deep, wavy red hair that fell to her waist. Her face matched Lou's except for the slightly narrower nose and emerald green eyes.

Brunhilde crossed her Amazon arms over her massive chest and (with a hungry look that disturbed Phil) licked her lips. "He looks yummy. Do you have more?"

"No," Lou giggled. "He's the only one I found."

Phil's mind reeled. He was naked, in a kitchen, with three impossibly huge, muscular, gorgeous women. The moment was surreal, nearly terrifying; the beginning of a wet dream that could turn into a nightmare at any moment.

"Impossible," he marveled. "Women cannot grow this huge. Men don't grow this huge. What kind of place is this? Who are these women?"

Phil fought a battle with fear and lust as Brunhilde took her seat. Phil didn't want to get an erection, given his present state. At the same time he realized, "These women can break me in two. Gulp!"

"Uh Phil, your seat's ready," Lou said. A chair, piled with cushions, sat between Lou and Elena. Phil, somewhat cautiously, approached the chair. 

The women looked at him strangely. Even Lou's looks seemed slightly predatory. Phil felt like a tiny mouse under the eyes of three giant, hungry cats.

In spite of his fear, Phil decided to concentrate on the meal. "Besides," he assured himself, "Lou's nice; and, really, the women are hot. It's not so bad...I think." 

The pancakes were delicious, smothered in butter and honey (lots of butter, lots of honey, gallons worth, big women have big appetites). As they ate the women talked. Phil ate silently. The conversation turned to the young man.

"So Phil," asked Brunhilde. "What brought you to our nifty little motel?"

Phil hesitated, partly because his mouth was full of pancake. "Don't say anything," his instinct warned. "You don't want to talk about Miami."

"Look at me now," he replied. "I'm at the lowest point in my life. I'm not even embarrassed anymore. I mean, what can they do? Laugh?" So Phil swallowed, took a deep breath, and started to talk.

In hindsight, it surprised Phil how easily it all came out. The disaster in Miami; the betrayal by his best friend; the exposure on the Internet; but not just the recent events: his bullying older brother, his disappointed father, the years of humiliation from his peers, all flowed from his mouth. When he finished, the table was quiet.

"Oh God! I said too much" Phil thought. 

The sisters' expressions were neutral; neither sympathetic nor derisive. "Well!" said Brunhilde, after the pensive silence. "That was interesting. And to think of all the trouble we went through. At least our parents supported us. Dad would have tanned my hide if I'd treated you two like Phil's brother."

"Yeah Phillip," said Elena. "You should have seen what some boys did to Lou at her senior prom...well what they tried to do." 

"What happened?" asked Phil. Awkward silence descended on the kitchen.

"Uhhh...I don't think we should go into that right now," Lou said. "Besides, it was ...what? Seventeen, eighteen years ago? Water under the bridge."

The other women giggled, and then Lou rumbled a distinctly unfeminine 'burp!' and all three erupted into laughter. Phillip nervously joined in. "These women have secrets," he thought.

Phil also realized he hadn't given much thought to the women's ages. "Eighteen years ago? That means Lou is 35 at least. Elena is probably 38 and Brunhilde is 43. Three hot muscle women and one naked 19 year old; I'm in some weird MILF fantasy."

Phil looked around the table. The women were chatting away about events in town. The pile of pancakes and sausages had dwindled to crumbs. Phil stopped eating, full for the moment.

"This is just...strange. Who do I talk to when I get...where?" A hand brushed his thigh; he jumped, startled.

"Oh!" Louella said. "You seemed lost for a moment. Is something wrong?"

"Oh!...uh...no, no...I just...well I just kind of thought today was weird, very weird...I'm having trouble taking it in."

"You think today is weird?" asked Brunhilde. "Look at us. We're the Gudrunsdottirs. Weird is our life. You're just experiencing a hiccup."

Phil was pensive for a moment and then noticed Lou had put her hand against his thigh. "'?' Um, Lou?"

"You know," she said. "Your skin is soft. Did you realize that?"

"Uh...no? (My skin is soft?! No one's told me that either.)"

Louella moved her hand to Phil's leg and began to stroke the skin. Red warmth flushed through Phil's body. ("What is she doing?")

He looked at her hand, uncomfortably close to his crotch, and up at her face. "Uh...Lou?" he asked nervously.

"Hey Lena, feel his skin," Louella said, not listening. Elena leaned close and placed her hand on his other leg. The women's positions brought their breasts very close to Phil's head. Phil, sandwiched between those humungous mams, blushed warmer. Embarrassed and increasingly aroused, he struggled to keep his third leg in check. "Uh...ladies? (What the hell's happening?!)"

"You're right Lou. I never felt a man's skin this soft," Elena said. Her hand moved from his upper leg to his thigh. Phil squirmed on the cushions. "Uh...ladies? What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Feeling you, silly," said Lou. "Do you want us to stop?"

Phil's first impulse was to say 'yes!' but two hot women were running their hands across his bare skin; a once-in-a-lifetime experience. "N-n-no," he stuttered. Something was happening. Something was going to happen. He didn't know what. He hoped it wouldn't end in humiliation.

Phil looked at Brunhilde. She stared back with a hungry intensity, Phil found frightening. 

Elena moved her hand to his belly. Lou moved hers to his head. She ran fingers through his straw-colored hair while Elena rubbed back and forth across his belly.

"You're soft everywhere, Phil," Lou breathed. "Your hair is like silk."

"I love your flat belly," murmured Elena. "I like its softness; nice and pliable, not hard like an athlete."

"Mmmm," Phil moaned. He rocked in his chair, giving up any attempts to hold down his erection. His dick stood up, pink and stiff. He felt no embarrassment, just vague nervousness, not like the hotel room with Julie. Some defenses were still up. On some level he expected flashbulbs and laughter, but his body responded to the strokes.

The women ignored his sex for the moment, roving their hands over his body. Phil's breaths quickened; his skin flushed pink and moist; his belly rolled against Elena's fingers; his head rocked against Lou's hand, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

Phil's eyes closed and opened, taking in the sight of huge clothed nipples close to his face. "Mmmm," he moaned a second time.

"How do you feel, Phil?" Brunhilde softly asked. She watched him with that same frightening hunger. 

"Uh....good...I think...a...a...little nervous," he gasped.

Brunhilde licked her lips. "I know a way to calm you down," she husked. She pushed back the chair and stood up. Phil's eyes popped as, in three smooth movements, Brunhilde pulled off her dress, shucked her panties, and kicked off her sandals.

She stood before Phil and her sisters in all of her 9'7" big boobed, Amazonian glory. "Have you ever been buttered," she asked with a voice made of wood smoke.

To Be Continued...



BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 02.3



Story Two---The Honey Trap: Conclusion

"B-B-B-Buttered?!" Phil stuttered.

Lou and Elena's hands stroked his back. Lou's fingers ran along his spine while Elena stroked and squeezed his buttocks. The women stroked his front as well. Elena tickled his belly. Lou moved her hand to his lightly haired groin. She cupped his sex and did things Phil, prior to this moment, barely knew were possible.

"It's a game we like to play," Lou whispered.

"We play it with our guests sometimes," murmured Elena.

Phil was near to cumming. The explosion was right around the corner; caught between two huge women, feeling every part of his body, made a creaming inevitable yet, incredibly, something held him back. A lingering fear, some residue from Miami, an inhibiting terror of humiliation, raised a barrier between pleasure and release; that...and the over-awing vision of Brunhilde's nude body. 

Clothed, Brunhilde was a dream; naked, she was a goddess; a stunning sculpture of marble pale skin and streamlined muscles. 

Phillip remembered pictures of female body builders; he generally dismissed them as female Schwartzeneggers, too puffy and masculine for his taste. Brunhilde was definitely female. 

Her muscular structure harmonized with her curves. Her abdomen and pelvis were well-defined. The detail and implied strength impressed the sophomore, "'Almost like a snake's underbelly.'"

Brunhilde's thick, flaming bush confirmed the woman as a natural redhead. Phillip saw, nestled within the untrimmed red carpet, a thick, meaty pussy; the largest lips he'd ever seen on a woman, almost a second mouth.

A dusting of red hair coated her statuesque legs, as did her armpits. "'The Gudrunsdottirs don't shave.'"

Her most striking feature, as with the other sisters, was her giant mams. They sat high on her chest, no hint of sag, but just the slightest teardrop; as near a perfect pair of udders as Phil knew. Crowned by deep pink silver dollars, and giant pacifier nipples, they inspired visions of jug-sucking 'til toothlessness within the young sophomore.

Brunhilde stood; hands on her hips, letting the gap-mouthed young man take in her vision. "Like what you see?"

"Uh...um...mmmm..." Phil replied. The sisters' hands were everywhere; the vision before him, beyond his experience. She was terrifying, she was beautiful. Phil's mind overloaded with desire, but still he didn't cum.

"I think he's had enough for the moment sissies. Let's start the game," Brunhilde, smirking, said. Lou and Elena stopped with an abruptness that stunned Phil. "? The fuck?!" Louella leaned down and whispered in his ear, "We'll be in the shower if you want more."

The women left the kitchen, leaving a shocked Phil sitting in the cushioned chair, red, sweaty, gasping and twitching; giant erection hot and dripping with pre-cum. "What the...? What...? What the fuck was that?"

It was close to Miami, but not quite. He didn't feel embarrassed, just confused. He sat at the table until the twitching stopped. When he left the chair, Phil realized he was still hard. 

He stood by the chair, debating whether to follow or flee, in spite of his nudity. "The last girl who did this to me, lured me into a trap."; but their hands...and that killer body...and those gigantic breasts....Phil was uncertain and suspicious, but also horny; and he had few options. "May as well step into it," he said with a hint of nervousness, and followed.

They left a trail. Louella's khaki shorts on the couch, Elena's denims at the stairs, the sisters' shirts in the hallway, a trail of socks, shoes, and panties down the corridor. 

Phillip followed, his erect penis leading the way; nervous, fearful of what lay ahead, but unable to turn back.

The bathroom was steamed up, the shower running full blast. Phil started to sweat immediately, and not from the heat. The sisters were waiting, all naked, slick, and shiny. "Guh!" Phil dropped his jaw, blue eyes and senses overwhelmed by the vision of flesh towering before him.

A familiar scent permeated the room, "'?' Cocoa butter!" Phil's mother loved cocoa butter. A large vase full of the cream sat near the shower. The sisters had slathered themselves head to toe. 

The sisters' nudity allowed Phil to view the similarities among them. Louella and Elena sported the same muscular structure as Brunhilde; curvy with well-defined muscles around the abdomen and pelvis, huge high-riding breasts with a slight teardrop, and thick, meaty pussies with huge lips. Lou and Elena sported thick bushes and hair on their legs and pits, honey blonde and deep brown respectively.

Miami diminished to a pinprick within Phil's mind. He realized, to his shock, the kitchen and bathroom represented going further with a girl than at any point in his life. "No," he corrected. "Not a girl, woman...women."

He didn't know what would happen. His penis grew more erect, throbbing and pointing as if straining to rip from his crotch; it was almost painful. Phil moaned a faint warble of yearning and desire. 

Louella padded forward, moving as a stalking panther to a mouse. Phillip nearly cringed before her predatory beauty. Towering over him, gazing with the eyes of a hawk, she said quietly, "Close the door Phil."

Phil's hand groped behind him until he grasped the handle of the French door. Louella reached over and grasped the other. They closed the doors; Phil never took his eyes off Lou's face.

Lou grasped his dick, running her fingers over its pulsing veins and swollen balls. "Ah!" Phil gasped. His body tensed, blue eyes widened, teeth gritted. Lou leaned close. "I was right. You have nothing to be embarrassed about," she whispered.

Lou backed into the shower, leading Phil by his cock, stroking it all the way. Phil staggered after, clenched fists to his sides, dick dripping with pre-cum. Tense from head to toe, with his buttocks tight; he looked more the statue than ever. 

She drew Phil close enough to the shower for the mist to create a sheen of moisture on his skin. The sisters surrounded the sophomore. Phil was too mesmerized to marvel at the irony of finally swimming in babe flesh. 

The scent of cocoa butter hung in the damp air. Louella stroked Phil with one hand and cupped his chin with the other. "Close your eyes Phil, time to play," she said quietly. Phil whimpered. 

He didn't know the sisters' plans, but a part of him feared their response if he didn't obey. Confused, fearful, and completely under the sisters' power, he complied. 

Three pairs of hands descended upon his body. The scent of cocoa butter was almost smothering. Hands smeared the cream across his face, around his neck, down his back to his ass. He gasped as fingers entered his crack, smearing butter in his asshole. 

Hands cupped his balls, stroked his rock hard shaft, slickened them with butter and pre-cum. Hands moved across his belly and chest, and moved up and down his legs. They even smeared butter into his hair. 

When the sisters were finished they stood back. "Open your eyes," Lou said. Phil did as she commanded. He looked at his body. He was slick and shiny like flesh colored porcelain...or a statue. 

"Lie down." Phil didn't hesitate, kneeling, sitting, and then lying on his back, anxious to see what the sisters were going to do.

"Ok sisters, it's time," said Brunhilde. Phil glanced around, staying silent as the sisters kneeled and positioned themselves: Elena at his feet, Brunhilde at his head, and Louella at his groin. 

"Relax Phil," Louella said, "It won't take long."

"I'm relaxed," he replied. Looking down, "Most of me any way."

The tiled floor was cool, wet, and not uncomfortable. Brunhilde leant over Phil, her enormous breasts blotted out the overhead lights. Elena leaned forward and gripped Phil's legs. A comic image of himself doing nude sit-ups flashed in Phil's brain, before Louella's hands distracted him with sexual activity.

Cupping his balls with one hand, Louella took his semi-rigid shaft in the other. She stroked him to a swollen spear, smearing the pre-cum beading out of his glans onto her hand. 

Phil's cock apexed, shiny red and throbbing. Louella lowered her mouth to its tip, pushed out her tongue, and licked his cockhole, sending quakes through his body. It was the final straw for the young sophomore. 

"Awww God!" he screamed. All his muscles, from belly to legs, spasmed; rolling and clenching his eyes, grinding his teeth he cried, "Awww God! I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna blow!"

The cum welled through his shaft but, just before he exploded, Louella opened her mouth and swallowed him almost to his pubes. Her tongue slithered over his cock; her teeth lightly brushed his thin pulsing skin. She braced her throat for the flood. "Auuugh!" the sophomore screamed, and he blew inside her with all the force of a volcano.

Louella demonstrated the strength of her family by gulping down Phil's cock and cum. Her throat, jaw, and tongue worked violently, swallowing Phil's seed, and his years of sexual frustration, into her belly.

Meanwhile, Brunhilde smoothed her fingers across Phil's clenching muscles. His head was cradled in her groin, resting on the cushion of her red muff. Her boobs dangled over his head like swollen fruit.

Phil's body writhed in rhythm to Louella's pumps. Now he brought his hands to next source of erotic fulfillment, Brunhilde's ponderous melons. He stroked the fat flesh and nipples, the only soft parts of the redhead's body. 

Phil had not sucked tit since infancy, but the desire to place his mouth on Brunhilde's succulent fruit was near overwhelming. The redhead had other ideas. "Have you ever had pussy?"

"? Huh?" Phil was momentarily shocked. He came (Louella slurped and gulped him with the skill of a prostitute, he was already building to his next orgasm), and asked, "What?"

Brunhilde stood up and sat astride his head. Phil gaped; he was a virgin (considerably less so due to the Gudrunsdottirs), but not that naïve. His few experiences barely got him to second base. Now, the sisters served him every sexual fantasy he'd ever dreamed. 

Phil's wide blue eyes took in every detail of Brunhilde's pussy; the canyon wide slit, the lust bloated lips, the thick tongue-like clit that almost seemed to move, the pink cave dripping cum on his face, and the flaming red crown surrounding it.

Her asshole was a pinprick compared to the gaping mouth lowering itself to his face. Fear, lust, and anticipation battled for control. "I shouldn't be scared," he thought, but the hovering maw gave the impression of an approaching predator. 

"I should leave," he gulped silently. "I should get up and run, right now." But fear and lust kept him in place, and Elena held his legs like a vise.

Brunhilde watched Elena as she lowered herself onto Phil's face; both women had the same predatory hunger in their expressions. Elena licked her lips like a great cat. Louella sated her own hunger on the boy's cock.

The cavernous pussy drew closer and closer to Phil, until it blended into abstract colors of pink and red. Then the world faded into a soft, moist black.

Phil extended his tongue, tasting her salty cum. He was unsure of what to do. He'd heard about this act, but never in a million years thought this would happen.

He squirmed nervously (part of it was orgasm, Louella still sucked him). It helped when Brunhilde ground herself onto his face. While it became difficult to breathe, his lips and tongue touched the spongy inner skin. 

He licked and sucked, hoping he did correctly. He placed his hands on her legs, if only because it felt like the right position.

"Mmmm," Brunhilde purred. She swayed her body, moving and grinding across the young man's face. Light reflected off her gleaming skin. Her red hair hung wet off her body. She put her hands on her boobs and massaged her hugely swollen tits. "Thaaat's it. Keep working, you beautiful, delicious, yummy little....boy!"

Brunhilde smiled savagely. Her abdominal and pelvic muscles rippled in sinuous waves. Phillip, face buried in her pussy, was unaware of anything wrong at first. The warm, moist feeling of her cunt was confined mostly to his face. He wasn't alarmed when the feeling spread to cover the rest of his head.

Breathing was still difficult, but he figured Brunhilde would finish in a few moments. Phil also had other distractions; namely Louella (he was cumming regularly at this point), and something soft (?), warm, and wet covering his feet. "'?' What's Elena doing?"

The soft, wet feeling spread to his ears. The effect was as if two thick pillows, soaked in warm water, enveloped his head. Phillip was new to cunnilingus, but even he knew something was odd. 

"That's it. Time to stop. Something about this is wrong." Phil pushed at Brunhilde's legs as a signal to ask her to get up. Instead the redhead inched forward, and Phil's head seemed to sink deeper into her pussy. "'?!' What the fuck's going on?!"

He pushed harder; Brunhilde's legs, crooked on either side of him, dragged her body forward. The wetness spread to his neck; something thick and slimy slid along the nape, like a clit...or a tongue. Phillip began to panic

"What's happening?! Help!" He flailed and pounded at Brunhilde's legs with his fists. Her legs were hard and unyielding like granite pillars. Phillip became aware of two incongruous and sickening facts: he was still cumming into Louella's mouth, and another warm, wet envelope was covering his feet and moving up his legs.

"Oh God! What the fuck's happening?! Who are these women?! Help!"

Brunhilde watched the bulge of Phillip's head move up her pelvis. His panicked thrashing excited her clit; cum squirted over his head, down his neck, and across his shoulders and chest. Cum and cocoa butter were great lubricants. 

Her muscles rippled and flexed, the way a snake swallows a mouse. The boy flailed and fought, his screams muffled in her thick body. Phil's struggles were futile; the Gudrunsdottirs had swallowed far stronger men.

"Mmmm," she purred, licking her lips. The boy was delicious. She paused, preparing her vagina for his shoulders; shoulders were always difficult. It helped that this one was small. 

She looked down the young man's squirming, buttered body. His belly rose in and out, his back arced and thighs pumped. Brunhilde smiled and played with her boobs. Men always came when the sisters fed. Whatever happened, whatever the men did, the sisters always gave them a good time. She remembered Louella's prom, "A veritable orgy, that."

She watched her sister work Phil's shaft. Louella gulped away; she seemed to like manseed more than her sisters. "Such an enormous quantity for a little man," Brunhilde thought. Today was Louella's birthday so the sisters gave her first dibs.

Down at the end, Elena had swallowed the boy almost to his knees. Forcing his calves up her vaginal canal was akin to inserting a large dildo. "Unnngh!" she moaned; cum splashed on Phil's legs and the floor beneath him. She wrapped her legs around his and used the leverage to push forward. Her belly stretched as Phil's feet crossed the cervix into her womb. 

Elena looked at Brunhilde, gasping, panting, and licking her lips. Brunhilde gazed back with the smile of a gourmand. "Race you to the middle?" Elena challenged.

"The sis who gets there first, gets him all?"

"You're on."

Brunhilde spread her legs to 90 degree angles. Her pussy expanded to cover Phil's slim shoulders. She bent her legs at the knee and set her feet on the floor. Using her legs as oars, and her constrictor-like stomach and pelvic muscles, she propelled her body forward, simultaneously swallowing Phil's upper body into her womb.

Phil's gyrations weakened as he began to pass out from lack of oxygen. "Help! Oh God! Somebody help me!" he cried weakly.

The increasing confinement of Brunhilde's body arrested his flailing arms. Similar confinement restrained his legs. The silky inner walls of the sisters' bodies slid along his skin. In spite of the sickening and oppressive caresses, Phil was faintly disturbed to find the experience erotic. His body's reaction was confusing to his terrified mind; alternating between panicked struggles and intense orgasm. 

Brunhilde was down to his navel; her pussy slurped softly as she swallowed. Her belly and pelvis swelled into a pregnant bulge. Phil's upper body was in her womb. 

Phil's abdomen twitched; his lower arms adhered to his body, hands clenching and unclenching as if outraged by his body's imprisonment. Phil's uncovered skin was slick and shiny from sweat, cocoa butter, and cum.

Elena was closing in on his thighs. The women grunted and trembled, not so much from the strain of swallowing, as from the orgasms caused by the boy's struggles. 'Eating' was an intensely sexual act for the sisters. 

"Lou, get out of the way," Brunhilde grunted. Lou glanced at her sisters. She'd ignored their actions, preferring to concentrate on milking Phil of his seed. The Gudrunsdottirs' kind used many ways to devour men; Louella preferred cocksucking to most.

She ceased her ministrations, removing her mouth from the rigid shaft. She had a tinge of regret, and not just from having to stop. A stream of white semen spurted from the glans and hit her in the face. "Uh!" she gasped, startled. She licked some off with her tongue, before rinsing the rest in the shower.

When Lou returned she saw Phil's penis was erect and percolating cum. The cream ran down the pole and pooled in his rapidly disappearing groin.

Elena was past his thighs, her pussy starting to immerse his swollen plums. Brunhilde had passed his navel, her cunt closed on his scant pubes. What little was uncovered barely twitched. 

"I think you should give him air, Brunie," Lou said.

"Why should I? He's just food."

"Yeah, but food is better live don't you think?"

"She's got a point, Brunie," Elena agreed.

"Well, ok."

Brunhilde opened her mouth and swallowed air. Instead of flowing to her lungs, the air went to her belly where another tube, a natural snorkel, unique to her kind led to the womb. 

Phil, barely conscious, revived, and began to scream. His, renewed but limited struggles, caused both women to cum. "Mmmm, thanks Lou," Brunhilde gasped. 

Louella watched as the two sisters merged together, sealing Phil's body inside them. His slick, pale flesh gradually disappeared until only his penis remained. The red, engorged mushroom jutted from between the bulging pelvises, bubbling white jizz. "'Amazing, he has that much,'" Louella thought.

"I got here first," Elena smiled, "I win!"

The sisters' legs were interlocked; pussies touched around Phil's bubbling shaft. "Alright, you get him," Brunhilde replied. "But I want to taste him some more. You up for some fun?"

"Of course."

"Can I play?" Louella asked, not wanting to be left out.

"Why not?" Brunhilde answered. "But you get his dick."

Lou climbed between her sisters, lowering herself onto Phil's cock. He wasn't big by her standards, but she closed her cunt around his sex, making sure her clit brushed against the skin. 

The sisters ground their pussies; tongue thick clits licked across Phil's ass crack and balls. Muscles and cum caressed every inch of Phil's body, exciting him into frenzy.

"Oh Great Odin! He's tasting real good!" Brunhilde gasped.

"A lively one, this boy!" Elena shouted. 

"I'm cumming!" Louella screamed. She rode between her sisters, riding the waves that started at one end and flowed to another. 

Phil's mushroom burst; white cum splattered on the sisters' laps. The orgasmic trio tilted back their heads and howled. Ecstatic ululations rang off the tiles of the bathroom. 

Three pairs of hands fondled three pairs of gigantic melons. Large, round bellies flexed and rippled. Three hairy cunts, red, blonde, and brown converged in a carnal trinity.




BPH: A Pair of Goldilocks Pt. 02.3



Phil experienced it all: on his skin, his balls, his cock. He screamed, a muffled cry drowned by the sisters' howls. He came and came some more; and the women came back in escalating cycles. Eventually all three let out a simultaneous orgasmic scream before settling into a satiated mass. After a few minutes' afterglow, Brunhilde panted, "You can have him now, Elena."

"Ok, but you'll have to push."

Muscles rippled once more as Brunhilde grunted and pushed, while Elena inhaled and pulled. Phillip slid down one slick passage into another. "Oh God! What now?!" he cried as he felt his legs curl inside Elena's womb. 

Louella stood and watched Phil's cock disappear into Elena's cunt. She turned to Brunhilde. "I think we should explain."

"Unngh! Explain what?"

"Why! He deserves that much."

"Unngh! He deserves nothing; he's human and male."

"Why do you care Lou? 'Slurp!' You never cared before," asked Elena.

"He's not like the others. He's sort of sweet."

"'Slurp!' Yeah, sweet with cocoa flavoring," snarked Elena. "Forget him, you had your fun."

"Unngh! Oh come off it Lena. All right Lou, there's enough of him in Lena. He can't put up much of a fight; you can have your chat."

Brunhilde pushed out the young sophomore. It was like uncorking a bottle. Her stomach flattened while a bulge advanced through her pelvis. Phillip's pale body re-emerged in a splash of cum.

Meanwhile, Elena's cunt swallowed the young man to his chest, pinning his arms against his sides. Phillip's head exited Brunhilde's vagina. His mouth gaped and closed like a fish. His body, pale and slick from cum and cocoa butter, twitched spasmodically. 

He coughed, expelling cum and fluid, and sucked in air; then he screamed. When Phil saw his situation was worse, he screamed louder. Brunhilde stood and gazed at him with the impassivity of an elephant to a mouse. "Like our game?" she asked coldly. "Aaaah! Aaaah!" Phil screamed. Brunhilde's dripping pink pussy closed. She felt the satiation of a child who has sucked a lollipop.

Lou knelt down over Phil's face. "I'm sorry Phil."

"Uuuh!...Uhm!" Phil gasped. Elena continued to slowly consume him. Her pussy devoured his body with faint 'slurps!' 

Phil stared at Lou, fear tears streaming from his eyes. "What are you?! You're...you're monsters!"

"We're ogresses Phil," Lou said sadly. "This is how we eat people...mostly men."

'Slurp!' Elena was past Phil's tits. "Oh- Ogresses?!" Phil gasped. A comical vision of Fiona Shrek intruded in his brain. He would laugh at the gallows humor, if not for Elena's twat slowly devouring him.

"Our father was an ogre," Brunhilde said. "You're lucky he's dead. Male ogres use their teeth."

Phil's head reeled; he was in the middle of a sex fantasy turned nightmare. "Oh God! Please wake me up! I'll go back to Miami! I'll wear bikinis 'til I graduate! Just get me out of this!"

He looked down; a broad expanse of flesh loomed before him. It gleamed and pulsed and rippled like a giant blob. A wide pink mouth banded by a rich brown carpet gaped within the flesh; and it steadily sucked Phil inside.

Cum erupted from that mouth, showering Phil's upper body. Another 'slurp!' and he was drawn in to his shoulders. Phil looked around; at Brunhilde, standing wet and dripping with an all too familiar smirk, and at Louella kneeling close, her look regretful and sympathetic. "Please don't do this," he pleaded.

Louella opened her mouth to speak; then stopped. She shook her head, and leaned down and kissed him. "It won't hurt," she whispered. "It's really very painless."

'Slurp!' Phil wasn't reassured, now swallowed to his neck. The worst week ever; betrayed in the worst possible way by women. "It's not fair," he wept. 

"Of course it's not fair," Brunhilde said. "It's never fair for prey; but to your credit, you taste great."

Elena gave one last grunt. Phil sobbed as her soft, wet cunt lips enfolded his face. The world became tight, wet, and dark.

Louella watched the last of Phil's blonde head vanish between her sister's lips. The bulge made its way up her pelvis until it blended into the womb. He wouldn't be digested, just absorbed. Pending on his strength, it could take anywhere from weeks to months. The boys from the prom lasted nearly a year. Louella sighed.

"Don't tell me you're sorry for him," Brunhilde said. 

"He was cute...and nice. Maybe a little wimpy, but he was small. I don't think he could help it."

"I don't get you Lou," Elena said. She could feel Phil squirming inside her, "You weren't sorry about the last one."

"The last one was a fat pig and a groper; and he tasted awful."

"Sissies, help me up." The sisters helped Elena to her feet. She looked every bit a pregnant woman. "Look Lou. We're ogresses. We eat people. Save your sympathy for our kind."

"Well...it's not so much sympathy. I just feel bad we lied to him, after what he's been through. I know we couldn't let him go but, maybe we could have kept him...at least for a while."

"The last person we kept tried to escape through the sewers," Brunhilde snorted. "Look how that turned out."

"He was bigger and taller, and we were careless." Louella placed her hand on Elena's belly. She felt a kick, "It's not too late, you know; and it is my birthday."

Elena looked at Brunhilde; she shrugged. "Maybe," she said. The sisters went into the shower.

Epilogue

If success was the sweetest revenge, in Phil's case so was absence. Julie Bonet, Chuck Dugan, and their respective houses basked in the glow of the Greatest Prank Ever for roughly a month. Julie's bedroom performance, plus her cherry stem-tying tongue on Jamie's cock, did much to assuage his guilt over the betrayal of his best friend (the result of a confluence of fatigue over Phil's geekiness, toxic friendship, and desperation to prove himself to the fraternity).

When Phil didn't return to college, didn't show up at home, and the subsequent police investigation turned up no leads, the whispers began.

Years ago, no one would bat an eye at a college prank on a geek. Today, sororities got kicked off campuses for admitting only beautiful people and excluding others, fraternities got jammed up for bad hazings, and people killed themselves over bullying; and that possibility for Phil was the focal point for gossip.

The details of the prank got out and, overnight, the Greatest Prank Ever became the vilest joke perpetrated on a human being. Julie became a duplicitous bitch, Chuck, a worthless shit, and Jamie, a weasel of the highest order. Julie had to take down her Facebook account because of the death threats.

The fallout of Phil's disappearance led to the dissolution of the Locke's marriage. Bad enough, Bill senior vetoed a lawsuit against the fraternity, Julie, Chuck, and especially Jamie, but Bill made the mistake of mentioning not lifting a finger for his "queer" son, at dinner.

Helen Locke left the table, went to the bedroom, packed her bags, and moved to a motel. She served him with divorce papers the next day. At court she told him, "You have your son, I had mine." Bill never got it. 

Post Epilogue One

Phillip rested curled in a tight, dark place, warm and wet. Soft walls caressed his body. He lost count of how many times he came. His memory was slowly, softly draining away. Overall not a bad way to go...at least it beat Miami.

Post Epilogue Two

Phillip rested curled in a tight, dark place, warm and wet. Soft walls caressed his body. He was in Louella now; last time it was Brunie. The sisters passed him around, sometimes they let him out. The sisters took care of him: fed him, cleaned him, tasted him, and fucked him. Overall not a bad way to live...at least it beat Miami.

The End