Chapter 1 - Mom? What Are you doookay that feels great...

Erectus, a name many on Earth Bet, including one Taylor Hebert, had certainly heard of though never thought it would affect her. They had been a tinker specializing in genetic alteration. What got them sent to the Birdcage though, was the release of the Erectus Virus and its variants. They had claimed that they were following in Lustrum’s footsteps, seeking a world where there was true equality. Taylor’s mom, and former Lustrum follower, scoffed at that. “Lustrum won’t be happy she tried to use Lustrum’s name as justification.”

That had been six years ago, when Taylor was nine. Ever since, the CDC, Protectorate, and several other federal agencies had tried their best but the virus seemed unstoppable. It didn’t sweep across the country changing everyone, not unstoppable like that, but nothing seemed to actually stop it from spreading. Two years into its slow but unavoidable spread a reason was discovered. The virus chose who it changed based on specific factors, but had infected far more. It could lay inert for years in a host body waiting either for the right factors, or for any of the large varieties of potential spreading vectors to spread to another host.

As a result, people ended up ignoring it. There were too many ways for it to spread and with no way to let it burn itself out, people gave up on trying. People just began to ignore it, telling themselves that the triggers for the virus to transform clearly weren’t present in their own body. Something that Taylor had believed until last week. Taylor wasn’t really sure how or when she’d been infected, the Erectus virus’ extreme ability to hide means she could’ve had it for years and only recently ‘achieved’ the necessary triggers that caused the Virus, in her case the Erectus Equus virus, to begin changing her. A process that took four days. Four days of fever, pain, delirium, and nightmarish headaches as a significant chunk of her DNA was rewritten.

The only thing she remembers about when it started was the beginning of the pain at school, having trouble walking, and being all too aware of all the stares. Stares she’d sworn she could feel the pity, taunting, and shaming gazes of. Then a moment of wanting nothing more but for them to ignore her if they couldn’t be bothered to help her, and then blackness.

Those next four days are still a blur, she was too out of it from the fever and to be sure of anything really, but the one thing she could remember was that her mom was always there. The briefest of moments at most of absence returning with washcloths, food, and water. That state of affairs finally came to an end yesterday afternoon, leaving Taylor with a span of four days of blur and an seven inch long three inch across, flaccid and in a protective sheath, horsecock and orange sized testicles hanging from her groin where her vagina used to be, causing her to make a lackluster joke about not having to worry about menstruation anymore, and in a few hours she’s finally supposed to return to school.

Something felt… different though. In more ways than the aforementioned new weight hanging between her legs would indicate. It wasn’t the new underwear her mom had bought to make sure she’d have some, it wasn’t the paperwork downstairs she’d been asked to bring to the office by her overworked but caring mother to notify them of her change of status, it was something more… nebulous. The world just seemed… changed, perceptively so… if only Taylor could put her finger on in what way.

Pushing that thought away, being unable to put her finger on it only makes thinking it over furthermore and more frustrating so leaving it seems far more preferable until perhaps new information or a Eureka moment occurs, she grabs a change of clothes including the new underwear and purpose designed restraint for her newest appendage and heads to the bathroom for a shower. Taylor’s mom had certainly tried to wash her up but in the same way that several of those from the books she loved so much had said… There was nothing quite like a good shower for feeling clean.

Hearing her mom moving around downstairs Taylor called down, “I’m taking my shower Mom.” A habit from before Dad’s accident. It had only taken one time of him not hearing the shower running and starting up the dishwasher for both Taylor and her mom to learn to always call down if they knew someone was downstairs. Two years after his accident and it only being the two of them… it was still a habit neither had broken. They weren’t trying that hard though, it was a way both of them found to remember Dad without letting the pain or memory rule everything they did.

Closing the door Taylor undresses, taking a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Even a quick look brings a dissatisfaction to her mind that goes beyond any previous qualms about her mouth being too wide, her legs too gangly, none of that matters in Taylor’s mind now. Some part of her sneers for a whole new reason, taken over with dissatisfaction at how could she ever be satisfied with being so… unfit? Unable to fix it in a moment, she pushes it aside once more, though taking that thought the raven haired teen sets it aside as a possible reason the world feels different and steps into the shower after getting it started.

Of course, having decided to delay thinking about that just means Taylor’s mind finds something else to think about, giving her libido all the opening it needs to ambush her. Some information she was taught in health class, which had been forced to be updated because of the Erectus Virus and the changes it caused, flies through her mind at what feels like mach speed and she remembers that a significant libido change could be attributed to her new member and the hormones that accompany it but she hadn’t thought it would end up being this intense. In a heartbeat  her mind goes from an idle feeling that things are different in more nebulous ways to completely swallowed by lust, as her libido had been waiting for an opening.

A feeling her long horsecock begins reacting nearly instantly, growing to maybe double its previous length, leaving the protective sheath and bobbing in the air before her as her testicles begin to feel like they’re rising up closer to her body and Taylor’s mind begins conjuring up faceless forms, feminine forms, and her hand automatically reaches forward and grips it, beginning to stroke. It had gotten hard several times over the night, but not like this. Maybe the hormones took time to produce to these levels, but there’s no stopping the feminine forms flying through the curly ravenhair’s mind’s eye, voluptuous, willowy, thin, curvy, there’s no consistency to the forms flickering, nor in skin tone and color.

Lost in lust, the first indication that anyone has joined her in the hot spray of the shower is when a hand that’s not hers, and she can be fairly confident of that because both of hers are occupied with toying with her small chest and stroking her length member, cups the tip. Taylor’s eyes snap open and find, “Mom? What are-” Her voice cuts off as her mom’s hand goes for a sudden deep stroke, with a smile on her face.

She smiles sultrily, the older raven-haired , “Who do you think helped you release so you didn’t wake up in pain yesterday? You were hard ever since it grew in, you didn’t wake up till after I helped you. And while we’re doing this, go ahead and call me Annette.”

Somehow, the raven-haired teen can’t find the words, no… the will to say anything as Annette continues her stroking and steps closer to get a better position. The teen knows that her first instinct should be to recoil, to push her mother away, that feeling never comes. Not really, there’s a flicker in Taylor’s head of something which may be a natural instinct that she shouldn’t find it acceptable… but it doesn’t get any traction, it doesn’t make it anywhere near the decision making or even speech centers of her brain. Later she might process that it was nearly missing, but it would not be in that shower.

Leaning forward her right hand comes up and grasps Annette’s neck and pulls her into a kiss as the older woman changes grip to have the base of her hand pointed toward your groin. When the kiss breaks she smiles and takes a step back, her grip changing again, “You know, Lustrum must have been quite upset that her name got attached to Erectus’ work, but I can’t say I don’t understand why they thought she might’ve appreciated it. Now let's get you some attention hm? I can’t exactly send you to school with your big… fat cock hard like this going to school…” As she drops to her knees she smiles up at you, kissing the flared head of your now nearly fourteen inch long horsecock, “Do me a favor Taylor, turn off the shower. Water is such a horrible lubricant you know.”

Then she dips her head deep and her tongue begins to trace its way up Taylor’s urethra from the base of her large cock all the way back to the tip, before planting a kiss on it as the teen tries to reach back frantically to turn the water off as the woman who gave birth to her opens her mouth and somehow, in a feat that nearly makes the tall teen choke on nothing, almost casually draw the head of Taylor’s thick cock into her mouth. Her jaw is clearly stretched wide, but she shows no difficulty in pulling it into her mouth and starting to bob.

As far as describing it? Taylor can’t begin to find the words, can’t even imagine how they would start. Having a mouth, wet and with a tongue that keeps flicking against or tracing various lines  along the underside, wrapped around her makes her hips buck. This does get her a look and Taylor does her best to hold back further thrusts as Annette tries to work herself further and further, taking the thick horsecock deeper and deeper into her mouth. Then she hits the back of Annette’s throat and feels the first gag, sending a shiver down the spine of the dickgirl, as those changed by the virus have ended up being called, because of the vibrations it sends up the rather hefty cock involved.

That was, in retrospect, likely the point at which all hesitation that may have remained, however small it was, simply ceased to exist. Taylor reached forward and gripped her mother’s own head of long black hair and pulled her toward her at the same time as she pushed forward with her hips. “I’m sorry, but I am not satisfied with this.”

Strangely, despite the look from earlier, this does not get any kind of look of disapproval, just Annette seeming to become determined to make it happen. It takes more than a couple attempts, but an angle is worked out that gives Taylor just a little bit more leverage and she starts to try to feed Annette her massive, four to five inch across and fourteen inch long at this point, horsecock. Despite how much she wants to hilt herself down the throat of the woman who gave birth to her, this is the first time she’s ever made use of the aforementioned horsecock, excluding whatever happened while she was unconscious or delirious, and she just cannot hold on long enough.

The massive testicles tucked up against Taylor’s body tense and she groans out slightly in warning but before she can articulate anything the first jet, what feels to Taylor like a surge rockets out of the flared head currently several inches into Annette’s throat and straight down her esophagus and into her stomach. Annette recoiling only means the next shot is directly into her mouth instead of her stomach, and the next coats her face and b-cup chest rather solidly in off-white cum, leaving her coughing and blinded as despite the exceedingly pleasurable eruption that is still getting minor aftershocks running through Taylor’s body, she is not yet done.

The part of Taylor that isn’t hyper-focused on satiating her new and monstrous libido notes that she only woke up with about an hour to get ready and get to the Bus stop, with school starting in around an hour and a half. She isn’t sure about how much time passed with her starting the shower and then trying to work her fat horsecock down Annette’s throat, but surely it’s at least half an hour all told. A fast shower could still get Taylor to the bus stop in time to make it to school clean, rather than covered in a light film of sweat from the physical exertion.

That was a very small part of the larger whole of Taylor. Her libido was not satisfied after all, it wasn’t even close to it, and Annette kneeling in front of her with the dickgirl’s potent semen dripping off her nipples and the smell of the older woman’s arousal filling the close confines of the bathroom stoking the furnace within Taylor to ever greater infernos. Infernos which become a hellfire when Annette licks her lips with a whorish moan and begins trying to clean her face and chest off, feeding herself with the heavy load spewed over her face and chest.


Taylor snaps, there’s only so much a dickgirl can take when her libido is up, the primary reason they are seen as ‘sexually promiscuous’ by society at large being that they quickly get used to having regular ‘maintenance sex’ to keep their libido from reaching that point. Gripping Annette’s arm she hauls her to her feet and turns her around, bending the woman who gave birth to her forward and kicking her legs apart to expose Annentte’s leaking pussy. As she plants the flared head against the weeping pussy of her mother, that part of Taylor that knows she shouldn’t do this, even if it can’t quite understand why at this moment, tries one last time to stop this.

It should not have bothered, because even as it tries, her Libido stoked to a firestorm burns the hesitation to a metaphorical cinder and Taylor thrusts forward, the flared head struggling to enter the narrow passageway that even when it saw use saw it from a tool of significantly lesser size until with what almost seems to be an inaudible pop, the flared head suddenly sinks in, followed by two inches of the thick horsecock, drawing a loud yell of raw pleasure from both parties in that small showerstall.

“Tight.” Is all that Taylor manages to say, most of her focus being on trying to get deeper and hold her orgasm as long as possible. The latter half of that is going far better than the former with the help of that first orgasm into and onto Annette.

“Thick.” Annette retorts with a moan, one hand forward to brace herself against the wall and the other still cleaning her chest of Taylor’s extremely viscous cum and licking it off her fingers. “So thick… so full…”

A devilish thought prods Taylor’s libido and finds possibly negative resistance, the words exiting Taylor’s mouth before any portion of her other than the one currently dominating her mind can attempt to slow them down, “Bigger than Dad?”

“So much.” Annette replies earnestly, a groan ripping out of her throat of pleasure as Taylor pushes forward once again, “Danny was- oh please fuck me- average.”

There’s a brief pang of sorrow in Taylor’s mind that almost manages to stop her continued in and out motion as she strives to sink to the hilt into Annette at the reminder Dad is gone, but this time it’s driven back not by libido, but a strong feeling that maybe… maybe enough is enough. Taylor and Annette can’t mourn him forever, and he wouldn’t want them to. The Dockworkers had thrown a party after the funeral celebrating him for pity’s sake!

That memory strengthens the feeling enough that it sets with a will to destroying that one last swansong of her mind’s attempt to put an end to this, and puts Taylor’s full will to the in and out thrusting, drawing lewd wet sounds amidst the moans and groans both of them are exerting. She’s only just pushed inside to the medial ring, a ring of tissue roughly halfway down her length, when Annette’s most powerful orgasm so far rips through the woman as the ring rubs up against the little gem of pleasure known as the clitoris.

It is the work of only the raven-haired teen’s fierce will that Taylor doesn’t immediately fill her mother with an orgasm of her own. Even then it is a close thing, her mother is not a large person, and her vice like pussy clenching, releasing, and clenching ever the harder, in a fluttering effect that Taylor can one hundred percent confirm must be designed to milk every last ounce of cum out of the cock pushing her open. Annette’s fiercely clenching core does not get what it wants, not in that moment at least. Taylor slows, unable to push in with the added friction, but remains just barely away from falling off the same cliff.

As soon as the clenching lightens up enough for her to continue, Taylor’s will once again sets to pushing and pulling at the hole she’s buried in, sinking more and more of herself inside, pausing twice more before she hits the two thirds’ point, and her biggest obstacle yet. The newest and greatest wall in the way of the libido driven teen at the present and her current ambition however small scale it is of sinking all the way to the hilt of her massive cock deep into the woman bent over in front of her is none other than Annette’s cervix.

But that won’t do, not in the teen’s mind and evidently not in Annette’s mind either as the first intelligible thing beyond moans and yearning requests for more that the older woman says after the medial ring managed to get inside is now, as the first tappings against the gate happen, “Don’t stop, if you want to get all the way inside me, well it’s only normal isn’t it?”

Something about that makes Taylor scrunch her eyebrows in confusion, it isn’t normal for women to be totally accepting of having their cervix spread open like this, but the confusion can’t hold up to being given all the permission she could’ve ever wanted, need being none at all at this point, and Taylor begins the process of trying to work Annette open, gently tapping the gate again and again, more and more insistently. Each tap weakening the resistance of that last gate, each push causing less friction as Annette’s now completely metaphorically molten cunt is reshaped and spread sufficiently for Taylor to thrust more effectively, each nudge bringing them ever closer… closer to the point at which they will fall and the battering ram knocking at the gates will sweep them aside, plundering the vulnerable contents within like the armies of old.

As in any siege, without relief, the defenders can’t hold out forever, and Annette’s cervix, weakened and softened by gentle and yet persistent knocks, spreads open on one of them, the entire four or five inch wide flared head pushes inside and only a few moments later Taylor’s hips tap against her Annette’s backside and she grins with satisfaction even as Annette stunningly places her hand over a point above her groin, “I… I can feel it…”

“Then keep feeling it, because I’m not done just yet…” Taylor replies with a smile, strained though it is, because while she’s not going to orgasm as long as she doesn’t move too fast… she’s dangerously close. Far enough to send her mother over the cliff one last time before she joins her though? Yea, the curly-haired teen can manage that much at least.

Determination freshly rekindled by the success of her last personally appointed mission, Taylor leaves herself hilted for long enough that the edge is slightly further away, but more importantly that the ring of muscle she’d pushed past has seemingly relaxed enough that she’s not about to have to bash it back open if she pulls her hips back, tested by extremely tiny movements and testing how clamped down it feels.

Then she begins, hips falling back nearly all of the way before pushing forward back all the way, starting more of a sawing motion than the short out, longer in, motion she’d been doing trying to get hilted. Hilting again, and again, orange sized testicles slapping against her mother’s clit every time she hilts. Taylor has completely lost track of all time, every fiber of her focus on reaching that end, hips now going as fast as she can manage, a satisfied and almost primal grin on her face as Annette’s groans and moans get louder and louder until finally neither one of them can hold it back at all, Taylor slamming her hips forward as far as they’ll go, pushing her mother’s rounded backside flat with her hips and causing Annette to moan as another powerful orgasm rips through her, setting off Taylor’s, jets of hot cum push into the tight confines of the womb that she was born from.

The world gets fuzzy for a few moments as the pleasure washes over her, all Taylor is truly aware of is her hands tightly grasping Annette’s hips and pulling them against her as each jet flows out with power. Time ceases to have meaning again, but when Taylor comes back to herself there is a slight bump she can see just above Annette’s pelvis that she’s pretty sure wasn’t there a minute ago.

Slowly withdrawing her thick horsecock out of the still clenching cunt of her mother doesn’t see it go down and somehow it brings a pleased sense to Taylor’s mind that makes her pause. The idea of impregnating her own mother bringing a rather unusual sense of satisfaction to her mind… something to look up later, but for now she needs to check the time, how much time passed is… unknown, but Taylor knows has to have been enough to cause some serious issues to the idea that she can get a proper, fully cleansing shower in before school. Maybe she can still get a really fast one in? Not go in sweaty and reeking of sex. That’s the last thing she needs on the first day back in school when she’ll have to file paperwork and clearly mark herself as being a dickgirl.

The timing however could not really be worse, checking the clock tells her that not only is she too late to have time to take a shower and make the bus, she might not be able to make it to the bus stop before the bus gets there and leaves. She can still make it in time for school, but she’ll need a ride from Annette.

Fortunately the older woman wanders out of the bathroom on admittedly extremely shaky legs a few moments after the tall teenager takes a look at the clock in the hallway. “You’ll need a ride,” She says after a moment of looking at the clock, a long moment, as if her brain is not quite flowing at full speed. “I’ll get dressed… can’t have you missing your first day back at school… I don’t need to be at work for a few hours… Only a couple classes today.” She shakes her head, pushing aside what Taylor can only imagine are mental cobwebs tied to pleasure and overload. “Get dressed and hurry, I’ll drive you.”

Inwardly Taylor is admittedly a bit disappointed, if only because you are still not fully satisfied, though she is certainly softer than when she had bent her own mother over to take her pleasure that way, but she can still feel the urge to do it again… after a bit of rest. Is that why Taylor felt so dissatisfied with her fitness when she’d looked in the mirror earlier? She can’t remember anything about victims of the virus, of any version, gaining an urge to work out… but now that she thinks about it, she can’t think of any of the known victims who are in bad shape.

Things to research, she hasn’t exactly had a ton of time since she woke up only the previous day and spent much of that time coming to terms with it, eating a lot because she’d eaten very little the four days previous and a lot of energy went into changing her body. Maybe at school?

Still, she knows better than to argue with Annette regarding going to school… At least, she thought she did, but when Annette doesn’t come back out of her bedroom Taylor peeks in, done dressing herself, after a few minutes, knowing that every minute could be important if she’s going to be on time, and finds Annette passed out cold, sleeping on her front with her clothes half on.

Seeing the same ass she’d just been hilted against ever so slightly in the air is almost enough to make her massive cock come back to itself but unlike before the urge isn’t as all consuming, so she decides it’s better to let her rest… Annette might still insist when she wakes up… but for now, Taylor helps her back out of her trousers and puts them aside, unable to move the other woman gently enough to get her under the covers she leaves her there making a call to the school, glad that she sounded enough like her mom that they probably wouldn’t be able to tell. Then it’s off to the family computer, some things that have occurred to her demand answers today and now she has the time to look into it.

First things first, what had been that odd feeling of something being different before? Surely others infected by the Erectus viruses have experienced the same thing right? As it turns out, no, no they have not. Oh sure, there’s plenty of them who talk about how the world seemed different when the virus finished its changes, but none of them who had the nebulous sense that something was different, but were unable to put a finger on what. Instead it’s mostly the same sensations Taylor had been able to put a finger on.

That doesn’t mean the raven-haired teen’s research is pointless or doesn't get anywhere. Far from it, she quickly finds out that while none of the known victims of the virus that she is aware of, or even can find in a quick search aren’t in shape… that’s actually a result of the virus. Not only does the virus burning through your genetic code use a lot of energy it forces your body to pay for, with your body’s fat stores, but the virus even implants genetic instincts related to enforcing a sensation of forced fitness. If you’re out of shape when you get the virus, the virus will ensure you aren’t that way for long. Restlessness and fierce dissatisfaction with your poor fitness drive you to work out. Some take it even further than the virus demands, becoming virtual amazons.

Now, while Taylor certainly isn’t sure if she wants to go that far, but getting in shape… It does sound like a good idea, it contains a certain amount of appeal. She hadn’t been able to keep going earlier even if she hadn’t at the time thought she had to be getting ready to get going to school, and given her lack of complete satiation at the time and certainly now, that doesn't feel acceptable. Taylor wants to be able to go long enough to satiate herself, not be forced to stop by something as… solvable as fitness. It may be the Virus’ implanted instincts but… well, they’re not exactly harmful ones, and Taylor has long been a bit frustrated with parts of her body, maybe getting in shape could help?

She also finds that there’s a theme among those after they’ve been changed by the virus. Each and every one of them, which Taylor supposes now includes her, has… issues, with using birth control. They can, if they make a dedicated effort and are occasionally reminded, but they often find themselves forgetting until their partner makes a point of asking them where the condom is. Some lovers of those infected by the Erectus Virus simply opt for other methods if they truly don’t want kids, though most of them aren’t entirely foolproof so mostly it comes down to always carrying their own condoms for their partner to use and making sure they don’t let their partner get carried away.

This brings back into Taylor’s mind Annette, how good she had felt wrapped around you, and possibly more importantly the little bulge where the teen’s cum had rested, staining her mother’s inner walls white. She’ll have to be careful… if she can. Getting mom pregnant could be a bit awkward after all… though intellectually she’s aware that she will probably forget again… and again. It’s worded as just not feeling that important to a dickgirl, and because it never feels important, it never manages to stick around in their head.

This puts an image of Taylor, sitting there lounging like a king of old with not just Annette by her, but a few other currently faceless women, all of whom with building stomachs, pregnant with her offspring, smack dab in the teen’s head… and she has to admit, she doesn’t hate the sound of that.