Pump up the Fam: A Taboo Breeding Remix
Track Four - Mom
"What the hell am I looking at here?"
Clive stood in what had previously been his mother's office. The formerly neat and organized workspace had apparently changed as radically as the woman herself.
The beige-colored walls were coated in layers of gray soundproofing foam so completely that even the windows were covered. The desk, bookshelves, and filing cabinets had been removed to be replaced by large standing consoles covered in dials, buttons, and blinking lights.
Wiring ran everywhere in crazed tangles. Across the carpeted floor and up the padded walls, connected to everything before disappearing into the ceiling. A stack of what Clive recognized as CD burners sat beside an inkjet printer off to one side with boxes of blank discs in clear plastic holders crammed underneath the equipment.
The once bright, airy space now felt downright dingy. Muted and cluttered with indecipherable electronics.
A single red light bulb bathed the jumbled madness in a sinister glow.
"It's Melanie's sound studio--the heart of her whole operation." Aunt Kimberly said, pocketing the keys to the steel security door. It was three inches thick with multiple locks. "This is where she creates the music, recording the motivational remixes she sells to the women in town."
She nodded toward a selection of microphones tucked into a corner. They were old but had modern pop filters attached to the stands.
"You don't say." Clive gave a low whistle as he wandered in for a closer inspection. "She found all this stuff online and taught herself how to use it? Seems pretty technical for an insurance broker."
He stood there buck naked, of course. At close to seven feet in height and built like a Mack truck, normal clothing wasn't really an option anymore. Fitting through doorways had become something of a chore, involving a lot of stooping and trying not to damage the frames as he awkwardly crab-walked sideways through them.
His eternally erect monster cock was something of a hazard too. Swinging about like a baseball bat, he tended to knock over flower vases and leave dents in household surfaces.
"I imagine a setup like this would come with an instruction manual." Kimberly eyed him hungrily, licking her lips. "Your mother spent a full week locked in here--when it was still her office back then--before getting any results. It wasn't an instant success by any means."
Clive turned to return her ravenous stare. The hard-bodied redhead had donned a black cutoff tank top that was pulled taut over her massive chest, airing her chiseled abs, and green camouflage cargo pants clung tightly to her beefy thighs.
With her snake tattoo sleeve and many piercings, she resembled a post-apocalyptic badass bitch ready to rule the wasteland. He fought down the swelling urge to clash with her again and discover how fierce their next round of procreative fucking would be.
"Whoa... all this has been here the whole time?" Taylor peeked over their Aunt's shoulder, back in her undersized Gladiator costume. "That's a lot of bells and whistles."
"Let me see, let me see!" Emily's head kept popping up behind them as she jumped in place. "I wanna snoop too!"
"Get in here," Clive ordered. It would be close quarters with four bulky bodies in the confined space, but he wanted as many pairs of eyes as possible investigating the elaborate layout. "Look, but don't touch anything yet, okay?"
After some jostling and shuffling of feet, three powerful feminine figures were pressed against his towering form. Pillowy breasts pancaked against his bare muscles, hot breaths brushed his skin, and at least two sets of hands wandered down to slide over his protruding rigidity.
"Oh yeah, this is a
waaay
more productive way to search, big bro." Emily's giggles gave away her naughty intentions. "Perhaps we'll all fit better if I bent over one of these consoles and you squeezed in behind me? At least then we'll be
reproductive..."
"Can't you keep it in your panties for five minutes?" Kimberly scowled, practically molded onto Clive's back.
"I'm not wearing any panties. That's the point!"
"Keep an eye out for paperwork, names of manufacturers, model numbers, anything that will help identify what any of this stuff is." He growled, ghosting hands under both his sister's short skirts to grab their firm rumps while they eagerly stropped his girthy length. "If Mom found it online, so can we. Very little escapes a thorough Google search."
It turned out neither were wearing any underwear. Clive slid his fingers down the cracks of their glorious asses to seek their warm wetness.
"The--There's a brand name on this panel." Taylor moaned when he probed her slick folds. "DymoLux...
Haaa!
Does that mean anything?"
"It's a start, slut." Aunt Kimberly sounded irritated. Then her hand snaked into view to snag a microphone from the forest of stands. "Hmm, this has the same name on the side."
"Found a shipping receipt!" Emily blurted, trembling as Clive's thumb circled over her budding pearl. "It's from DymoLux Industries in Shenzhen, China. Oh
god,
big bro!"
Both girls were leaning heavily against him, stroking his stupendous shaft, gasping and purring as they melted under their brother's sinful touch. A heavy jet of precum slapped onto one of the instrument panels, which lit up under the splattered goop.
Dials glowed, and LEDs flashed, hidden speakers sparking to life with a low gut-churning thrum. All three women quivered like struck tuning forks as a barely audible bass rhythm reverberated through the small room.
Clive only grew stiffer when it hit him. Some underlying resonance reached into the most primal and savage places of his psyche, flipping switches he never knew existed.
"Oh fuck, what is that?" Taylor panted, juices flowing freely around his curling fingers. "It's hitting me right in my uterus..."
"Mine too. Christ, big bro. Either turn it off or fuck me this instant!" Emily wailed, trembling like a flag in a gale. "It's too much. I'm going to go crazy without your giant dick!"
Even Aunt Kimberly was breathing faster, her epic tits heaving against his shoulder blades, milky nipples harder than bullets burrowing into his flesh through her dampening top. Clive fought the maddening impulse to maul all three of them and stared at the digital displays.
"Two hundred hertz." He read aloud through jaw-clenching lust. "It's the same hidden wavelength we couldn't figure out before but amplified somehow."
"Who gives a shit?" Taylor growled, humping his soaked hand and kissing his neck while she jerked him faster. "I need this baby-making god cock inside me right now!"
"Don't forget about me..." Emily whined, glued to his side and smearing her sodden pink slit into his palm. "I was
nyaa~!
...here first. Hurry up and pound your little sister, big bro!"
Clive was more aroused than ever before. His slippery manpole lurched in their pumping grips, splashing great globs of hot seed across the sound equipment. He was preparing to rail the two statuesque blondes against the nearest wall when the soft drone suddenly ceased.
All the lights and dials went dark, and he worried that they had short-circuited from his abundant ejaculate before Aunt Kimberly cleared her throat loudly behind the grinding trio.
"Ahem!"
