For those curious what I do other than write futa monster smut, I recently wrote a complex outline for another author. It will be for three books, and I got the first one done. It was a lot of fun, and reminds me that I would have made a better editor than an author. Oh well.
PREVIOUSLY ON BM: Honoka gets milked, and the wives learn that some bees are more perverse than others.
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Chapter 49: Sunday Services
Honoka must have been exhausted beyond all reason, because a morning handjob didn't wake her up. She only clawed out of dreamland halfway into her ejaculation, the whole scene surreal enough to make the futa girl wonder if she still slept. On her side and at the edge of the bed, her dick extended over the side and spewing baby batter like an X rated Linda Blair. Holding said possessed penis was a calm and calculating Diane, directing the flow of cum into a half-filled bucket, her other hand idly caressing her swollen tummy under a black apron with hearts on it, the only clothing she wore.
Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Honoka vaguely realized the other wives were up and also sexily dressed in exclusively aprons. As Banda took the full bucket and walked out of the room - wearing a white apron with the black letters
got tits?
across said tits - Padmava had another bucket in place to catch the stream - her apron a bright pink with teddy bears on it.
When Honoka finished a few minutes later, the wives all went to breakfast. No children or even nosy aunts were allowed to the meal, which earned pouting from both. Quinn had transformed Honoka's cum into a thick whipped cream and served it by the gallon on top of peach cobbler. Four out of five members of the First Wives Club looked like they didn't want to eat anything, but they choked down the delicious creamy goodness anyway, knowing they could either eat jizz or be pregnant for a decade. Diane, who had no stomach issues anymore, gobbled up over half of it, licking the mixing bowl afterward.
Honoka decided to eat her cobbler plain, no matter how scrumptious it smelled.
After Honoka finished second breakfast down in the gym, she got ready for church wearing an orchid purple sundress. It definitely didn't fit right, the formerly ankle length skirt now up above her knees and her breasts squished inside the tight chest, but it would have to do. Finding daisy colored sandals - they didn't fit, all her shoes didn't fit, but the sandals didn't pinch her toes - Honoka stepped into the courtyard and found her entire family waiting for her.
Sunday Dress
might be a stretch, most of the clothing in their collective rooms no longer sized appropriately for many of them. The women were sharing everything to find something that fit, and the mismatching was apparent. Starting with Banda, Padmava was able to finish altering her Teteoh cleric outfit, once again giving the holstaur enough fabric to make her look risque instead of outright pornographic, the white toga-like outfit reminding Honoka of Sophitia from the
Soul
games: two pieces of draping fabric down from the neck, giving her massive breasts minimal coverage and support. It merged into a skirt short enough the holstaur woman had to constantly be on the alert for a gust of wind, otherwise the entire dungeon will discover the official uniform of Banda's patron didn't allow any underwear.
Quinn had on a sundress as well, one with sunflowers patterned on it, but it fit badly enough that one of Padmava's
sari
draped over her shoulders like a large shawl. What could be seen of the dress underneath showed the shawl was necessary, her newly muscled and boobied body stretching the dress to extremes. Padmava and her children were next to the beastkin, all their clothing still properly fitting, traditionally Indian and even matching in reds and golds. Little Miu was excitedly bouncing next to Jaya, in a cleaner tutu and wearing a nicer tiara, but sporting the same combat boots. Kenneth was in a white dress shirt and tie with dark slacks, his untucked shirt and slouched demeanor ruined by a hovering Shilo licking her paw and trying to tame unruly bat hair, the large polar bear woman in a simple easter pastels skirt and blouse. Uncle Aki was in his usual slacks and shirt, his
yukata
a checkered white and teal pattern, rolling his eyes at his children good naturedly.
Dolly was wearing the same tent-like skirt she wore earlier this week, drapery the best equivalent quadruped Races had to a modest dress. Her top was a purple spaghetti which led Honoka to believe the cheetaur was mentally on the mend if she was trying something more daring like that. Eve leaned against the large and stable woman, the only wife at the moment showing any current outward signs of nausea, wearing her Wednesday Addams black dress. Miaka's outfit was the most interesting of the bunch, a full forest green
kimono
with silver
obi,
none of the wives having seen the blunt and butch former MMA fighter wear anything formal before. It made Honoka daydream a little about seeing all the wives decked out in full
matsuri
outfits and having fun catching goldfish and participating in karaoke competitions along the waterfront of Nagasaki.
Hating to be ignored, Diane waddled over and snapped her fingers in front of Honoka's face, knocking the futa out of her disassociation. The very pregnant and very lactating woman had on one of Banda's tops, a black tank turned into something that not only fit but managed to have a bit of elegance by using - as far as Honoka could guess - an entire box of safety pins. Likely not finding a skirt that fit, the hormonal woman settled on gray yoga pants but wore a white, light lacy open robe that managed to bring the outfit into the realm of respectable instead of hodged podged, her wings folded over her shoulders like a cape.
"This clothing situation is getting out of hand, I'm buying muumuus later today." The rest of the peanut gallery laughed at the irritable succubus, who spun and glared at them. "You can laugh now, but this time next week most of you are going to be bigger than I am and then we'll see who wants to join the Fat Homer club."
Everyone stopped laughing except for Honoka's aunt, the large boisterous woman laughing harder and slapping her thigh.
There were five congregations in the dungeon. The Catholics met in the Grind, plenty of devout Irish gathering at a modest cathedral every Sunday. Mormons shared a building with the Jews who worshiped on their respective days each week somewhere near the center of the city. The mosque was in Shiny and a bit over the top, easily one of the most impressive buildings sitting next to the architectural marvel that was the FDR building. Everyone else congregated in the nondom Christian church on the south side of the Lair, across the street from the sports center Jaya played lacrosse at.
Honoka's horde got there a little early, the band playing smooth jazz as congregants filed in. Taking up a whole pew near one of the rear exits, every pregnant wife already looked miserable. After a few songs, communion and the plate, every few minutes a wife was either puking in the nearby restroom, puking in the closer trashcan in the lobby - or in the case of Diane - rushing to the bathroom to pee five times an hour. One particularly embarrassing moment came when the baby in the succubus
kicked
while everyone was standing and singing, throwing the pregnant woman back into her seat with a loud yell, smoke rising out of her frizzier hair. The band stopped and Honoka had to assure everyone it was ok, she was just Racially pregnant. The whole line of wives there were mortified.
Except for Uncle Aki and Aunt Shilo. They had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing out loud.
"Did you know there are two stories being told by the Lord in Luke 15?" The preacher was an old dwarf gentleman, using the raised podium to walk around as he talked with his microphone, his long beard in braid over a blue suit. "I should say there are two interpretations. First, the younger son asks for his inheritance - which he was perfectly within his rights to do, there was no malice in asking for his inheritance before his father's passing - but then he squanders it and becomes destitute. Seeking to live even as a servant in his father's house, he returns home and the father welcomes him with open arms, putting on a feast and having a party for the entire house to celebrate the return of the younger son.
"The father and the younger son both act in good and proper ways. When we fall into sin, we should seek to return home and ask forgiveness, expecting nothing. When someone asks
you