Purple Haze
mc; Fg; Mf; drug; inc
Fatima groaned, rolling off the mattress of her futon and dropping the short distance to the floor. She wasn't fond of her parent’s music choices at the best of times. She was less fond of them when it woke her up.
She clambered to her feet, brushing loose strands of brunette hair from her eyes. She strode with as much gravitas as an 11-year-old who'd been woken up early could manage to the living room.
She was unsurprised to find her sisters had gotten to the living room before her. 12 year old Fiona and 14 year old Flora were there, railing against everything: from the loud music to the state of undress their parents were in to the scents coming from the hookah currently seated in the middle of the living room table.
Their mom was naturally yelling back. Their dad simply inhaled some of whatever was in the hookah and looked thoughtful. After a long moment, he simply reached over and turned the music down. “Why don’t you go back to bed, girls? Your mom and I need to have a talk.”
With assorted grumbling, the three girls headed back to bed, doing their best to ignore their mother’s raised voice. On her way back to her bedroom, Fatima paused and looked in the mirror. She’d inherited her mother’s looks and father’s dark olive skin. She smiled at her reflection, then quietly slunk back to her bed.
She rolled back to life several hours later, sunlight cutting through the dim light of her bedroom. She rolled out of bed feet first this time, stretching. She left her room, making a beeline for the kitchen. She paused, noticing her mom setting something up in the living room. Her sisters sat there, looking a little sullen.
“Tima! Come in here.” Her mom’s voice was as much request as order. So with a sigh, Fatima did as she was bid. She plopped down in the one chair opposite the loveseat her sisters were sharing, sinking into the cushions. Her mom finished setting up what turned out to be incense sticks. None of the girls were quite sure why they were here for this.
“Your dad,” their mother said after a long moment, “seems to believe this will help settle the arguments we’ve been having.” She lit the sticks and sat back, looking at her three daughters. The silence was thick, as thick as the purple smoke wafting up from the incense.
It was Fiona who reacted first. Her eyes started to glaze, and she started to slide down in the loveseat, giggling. Their mom followed. Then it was Fatima’s turn.
She felt herself begin to feel like she was floating. She started giggling and slid down, eyes tracing the path of the incense’s purple smoke along the ceiling. Colors started to run together, mixing in with the smoke. She giggled again, louder. She couldn’t help herself. For a long moment there was giggling and writhing, a moment of togetherness the four hadn’t had together in a long time.
Then the music started. It wasn’t her parent’s usual stuff, it was something else. Fatima tried to ignore it, tried to get up. She had to get breakfast she told herself. Had to get ready to go to school. But it felt too good.
She slid from the chair. The music sound slurred now, and she heard words whispering to her, but they were all slurred together. She giggled at that. She giggled at feeling a dampness build up between her legs, something leaking out her ears.
Her reverie was interrupted by an abrupt shift in view. Her eyes settled on her mom, even through the purple haze that seemed to have washed over her sight. She smiled as her mom pulled her in and kissed her, tongue thrusting through the pubescent girl’s lips.
Her mother pulled away, and Fatima’s head lolled as she giggled. Her respite- such as it was- ended when her sisters joined in and the four females started trying to kiss each other all at once. Fatima was abruptly aware they were all naked. She didn’t remember taking her clothes off. She wondered for a moment what else she was forgetting. School, she thought. She had to go to school today.
Her thoughts veered off as her eyes locked into her mother’s. Fatima’s mind slowed. Her mother’s irises were their usual hazel, but the whites had turned purple. Were hers like that? Wasn’t that the same color as the smoke?
That was her last thought before she drifted into the purple haze of her mother’s eyes.
Fatima’s eyes opened. She slipped off her futon. She was clad in a tube top and thong that did nothing to hide her developing body. Her mind touched briefly on how weird that dream had been. She’d never gone to public school. She’d always been homeschooled.
Hadn’t she?
She also remembered, vaguely, that she’d had more books. Or that she’d been learning things that weren’t quite so weird.
“Fatima! Get in here! You are not going to be late for lessons!”
The shout from her mother made her start, the odd thoughts slipping away. She rushed from her room to her spot in the living room. She arrived in time to see her mom light the incense that would bring on the glorious purple haze.
She took a deep breath, watching the smoke begin to curl towards the ceiling. She giggled, as did her mom and sisters. Her pussy spasmed in pleasure, pubescent girlcum leaking around her thong. She felt something leaking from her ears again, vaguely remembered her mother saying that it was simply her mind leaking things that weren’t important.
Fatima giggled, pulling her thong up between her hairless nether lips, and let herself melt out of her chair, rolling to her belly and crawling over to Fiona and Flora. Using her teeth, she pulled aside Fiona’s thong and dug into her cunt. Fiona, meanwhile, reached under Fatima’s tube top and rubbed at her nipples. Fatima moaned in delight.
Time was lost to Fatima. All she knew was orgasms; hers, her mother’s, her siblings', and the Haze, that glorious purple haze. It made them all feel so good. They barely even noticed the music or warped voices. Fatima wondered why this felt so odd, briefly, before her mother joined in, shoving her tongue in Fatima’s tight twat.
Fatima, in response stiffened, crying out in orgasm as the haze overwhelmed her…
Fatima woke up, looked at the ceiling. What weird dreams within dreams she’d been having. Books? Schooling? She laughed at the thought, swinging herself upright on her futon. She glanced around the room.
It was, on the whole, the same as she’d ever remembered it; posters and pictures of sex and debauchery. She glanced in the mirror. She was, of course, naked, as she always was when she slept. She smiled as she noticed her labia had parted and her clit was showing. She loved how it looked when she was horny and ready.
She smiled, pulling her clothing from under her bed. She pulled the thin, translucent blue fabric over her lithe form, and walked to the living room. She let herself chuckle at the absurdity of her dreams. Girls in her family were raised in the family’s traditional manner.
She slipped into the living room. It looked much like a clichéd harem chamber of some sultan. Of course, Fatima noted, this was because largely it was. Females in this family were traditionally raised as instruments of pleasure, after all.
Fatima’s mother smiled at her as the youngest girl sat on the cushions next to her. Fatima returned the smile, reaching for the hookah that sat in the middle of the room. Fatima’s eyes wandered over the activity in the room. She and her mother were sitting on one end, calmly taking hits of the purple haze from the hookah. Fiona, now 13, was bouncing up and down on their father’s cock. After all, she was of breeding age now, and the sooner she started, the better. Finally, 15 year old Flora was kneeling on the floor between Fatima and her father, one hand obsessively rubbing her pregnant belly and the other jamming two fingers into her sopping cunt.
Fatima paused for a moment as something deep inside, as if from a dream, cried out how wrong this was. She shook herself, and took a hit from the hookah. The dream like echo screamed, cried, faded. Fatima blew out the purple smoke, eyes glazed as she watched it dance on the ceiling.
