She licked the duck's bones clean, leaving only the head which she tossed into a corner of her pen.
"Humph," she said to herself, "I wil take his advice in my head in the same way I took his meat into my body."
In the following months, the maiden saw a new spurge of visitors due to the elegant combination of her rabbit hide top and her duck feather sash. Keeping her promises in mind, she never let them even touch between her legs, though for the right price, they were welcome to lift up the duck feathers and take a gander at her front or back. Soon, she was willing to let her round fat lips wrap around the male members, where they could shoot her supply of man juice directly into her stomach. Her wet fleshy lips and expert tongue made her supplies more and more bountiful.
However, as she had worried, even this grew tired. After a few months, the maiden was lucky to get even a full loaf of bread for a day of hard rods spurting everything down her gullet.
"Drat," said the maiden one night as she lay hungry in bed, rubbing her fingers along the soft black fur that composed her top, "Is it time to break the duck's promise? Do I dare?"
Staring at the young tight flesh of her stomach, she couldn't imagine not having her radiant beauty. However, as she peeked outside her curtains to see if any late night errant boys wanted to go at her for some food, she spotted the rotting duck's head in the corner, which was even now attracting what looked like fleas. How could she trust such a pathetic figure as that duck? Who was so lecherous for her body but so easily killed and consumed... She even took a moment to laugh. Of course that fowl could not be right. If that sticky white man-seed felt so warm on her hands and tasty on her tongue, it could never be anything horrible in her loins. Shutting the curtains and leaving the duck's head to rot, she determined that tomorrow, she would allow male after male to send wave after wave of sticky juice inside her.
At the corner of her pen where the duck's head rotted, a small flea glimpsed the maiden's head peek out and back in to her dwellings. Given how short the lives of fleas are, this one had never seen nor heard of the beautiful maiden locked in this pen. Now, seeing her gorgeous hair and sensual lips, it jumped its way over to her tent and slipped its way inside.
The sleeping maiden's body lay breathing on its bed, the rabbit fur barely covering her heaving breasts and the duck's feathers slipping away from both her soft back side and pulsing moist entrance. The flea had never seen such a magnificent sight in his life, and it was no trouble for him to slip between the duck's feathers and address the glistening wetness between the maiden's legs.
Feeling a disturbance, the maiden awoke to the flea busying himself at her loins, and she picked it up between her fingers.
"Little flea, how dare you come to me while I sleep."
"Gorgeous maiden, how incredible you are! Your wetness has satisfied me more than I could have ever imagined."
Angered at his talk of her body, the girl squished the little bug between her fingers. Taking no note of the way the flea spoke as if he had already finished inside her, she turned back to sleep.
When she awoke in the morning, she felt awful. Never in her life had she felt this sick. Not only was she unable to let the men enter her, she couldn't even take them in her mouth.
For a whole week, she lay in her canopy, trying to ignore the shouts of angry men who begged for a glimpse of her sensual body and release inside of her mouth. While laying, she remembered the rabbit's words about the endless desires of men, the duck's warning of her entrance, and the flea's insinuation. She realized that she had caught the flea inside her too late, and it had already taken effect.
After a week, one morning she awoke feeling better to a tiny figure laying in her bed between her legs. It looked like a baby human, but it was smaller than even that. Thinking of the duck and the flea, she figured that perhaps the duck's warning applied only to humans. The damage the flea had done was but a week long endeavor, and sure enough, her body was still as supple and gorgeous as ever. The product of the mistake lay there, innocent looking, and she decided to keep it here, in the tent, as a reminder of the importance of her purity.
The next morning, she was back at the gate, sucking and stroking as many members as she could reach. In her week long absence, the crowd had grown rowdier and more desperate. They were providing her with more food than she had ever gotten in a day. This was the solution to her problem. As long as she took breaks, kept them wanting more, she could sustain herself and her mistake without losing her purity and her body.
As time went by, the little body grew in the tent into a normal sized baby, and eventually a normal sized human. The men who saw the child grew excited, realizing that the little one's existence meant that perhaps, with enough goods and time, she would let each of them inside of her wetness too. This was not to be the case, but the maiden knew better than to say otherwise.
The little male child was no different than any other human boy. Perhaps he was a bit scrawnier, certainly a lot uglier, but there was no evidence to his origin in his appearance. His mother, the glorious maiden, kept him fed and groomed, but while she spent her days at the edge of the pen with the men, the child roamed the center and played in the tent.
As the years went by, the maiden grew impossibly more and more beautiful. Her breasts took on a new glow, and her hips attained a sexier sway than anyone thought possible. There was a reason she was so universally desired; the maiden's eternal youth and captivating beauty was not to be ruined by something as commonplace as time. The child, too, grew, though he became scrawnier and uglier with age. The maiden spent each day performing her duties, letting the men soak her over with their sticky white spray, before coming home to the tent, letting the flea boy suckle at her glazed breast, and putting him to bed before ravaging herself and going to bed too.
In his adolescence, the child befriended many animals who would sneak to him in the pen. They asked for his loyalty, performing tricks to convince him to keep them as pets and bring them into his mother's tent. The maiden knew the ways of these animals; they were using her son to get glimpses of her body without payment, and so each time she saw the boy with a animal, she would gut in in front of him, eat every piece of its meat, and tie its pelt or feathers as a support for her bust or an adornment for her hips.
The child grew into a cautious scrawny man, and his mother continued in the business of pleasing the townfolk at the fence. Borrowing some wood and linen from his mother's ventures, he built his own little tent in the corner where the duck's head once lay. He spent his days in his tent, drawing pictures on wood bark and shooing away animals, who he had learned were really drawn to the pen by his mother's sensual body.
Once afternoon, while the maiden gulped down the long rod of a dignified nobleman's servant boy, a voice whispered to him in his tent.
"Flea boy!" yelled the voice.
"Excuse me? Who are you, and why are you calling me that?"
"Ah, among the animals it is no secret that you were conceived by your goddess maiden mother and a puny pervert flea." The flea boy accepted this explanation; he had heard rumors amongst the fleas of such a thing, but they always scurried away from him and the maiden, rightfully.
"Who are you?" asked the flea boy, again.
"Please, let me come into the safety of your tent, away from the danger of your glorious mother, and I will explain all."
The flea boy beckoned, and into the tent strode a tiny black baby bull.
"Thank you, flea boy," said the bullock, "Though I appear to you here as a baby bull, I swear to you that I am unlike any animal you have ever encountered. Back in my home, across many oceans, I was a proud warrior, until a sorcerer cast me into the form of a baby bull. I snuck away from my home, where I knew meat was scarce and I would surely be killed. The boat on which I hid was full of many other animals, who informed me that a beautiful seductress lived in a pen in this village, but that if I came close to her and attempted anything towards her beautiful body, I would be quickly and violently killed. Alas, I admit, though she is your mother, I was intrigued by this description of her round full breasts and thick soft behind. I was and am a warrior, and I was not to be scared by a woman, no matter how sexy and gorgeous she may be. However, in the days I've spent stalking this pen, the other animals have warned me, telling me stories of goats she has skinned and worn around her heavy chest, the robins whose innards she has slurped while adorning her magnificent behind with its feathers, and even the tiny piglets, who she has mashed and rubbed the slick grease along her thick juicy lips to make them shine as she allowed men entrance to her mouth.
"They told me of you, and your intended kindness, though they said you have stopped accepting animals into your home. However, I come to you with a deal that benefits both you and me. What I desire most is not only the full body of your mother, but a return to my human warrior form. What you must desire is an escape from this prison. If you keep me here in this tent, and allow me to gaze upon your mother's flesh as she sleep, when I finally grow into a full bull, I will stampede the fence and free you both. Then, you will barter with the humans, who I as a bull cannot approach without them trying to eat me. It is a simple mixture of goods which will return me to my strong manly body."
