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Cartooniverse Mother-Daughter Crossover Sextacular	By : GeorgeGlass Category: -Misc Cartoons > Crossovers Views: 16243 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the fandoms referenced in this story see list at the start of chapter 1, and I made no money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: The Striptease Competition
It was the end of the first round, and one of the six mother-daughter teams had just been eliminated: Team Simpson. Now, as the five remaining pairs of contestants filed off the stage, Johnny Bravo returned to reading from his sheet of paper.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen—in a few minutes, we’re gonna start our next event. But first, for your entertainment pleasure, it’s The Amazing Bullwinkle and his assistant, Rocky!”
Johnny hustled off the stage and was replaced in the spotlight by a large, brown moose and a blue squirrel wearing aviator goggles. The moose had brought a rolling lectern, on which a black top hat sat upside down.
“Hey, Rocky!” Bullwinkle said. “Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!”
“Oh, not this again,” Rocky moaned, slapping a hand to his goggled forehead. “You always pull out a rhinoceros or a bull or something else that wants to gore us to death.”
Undeterred, Bullwinkle reached into the hat and took hold of something. Then Rocky stared with amazement as Bullwinkle pulled out a tall, redheaded woman in a sparkly pink gown, who took Bullwinkle’s hand and let him help her down from the lectern. She had blue eyeshadow, red-painted lips, and the biggest jahoobs the flying squirrel had ever laid eyes on. The audience yowled and whistled appreciatively.
“Hello, boys,” the woman said. “I’m Jessica Rabbit.”
“Aha!” Bullwinkle said to Rocky. “Technically a rabbit.”
“Yeah, okay,” Rocky replied absently as he stared at the magnificent redhead. Looking up at her, the short-statured squirrel could barely see her face past her enormous bust.
Music came on the theater’s sound system, and Jessica sang her signature song, “Why Don’t You Do Right,” while promenading slowly and sexily around the stage, occasionally bending forward to give the audience a look down her impressive cleavage. She finished her song to substantial applause, then sashayed off the stage. Rocky followed her, mesmerized, and Bullwinkle trotted after them both.
A stagehand quickly removed the lectern as Johnny returned to the stage. Now, Johnny’s pants puffed out oddly, as he had decided that wearing several pairs of boxer shorts was the best way to conceal his excitement over the contestants and their performances.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Johnny called, “it’s time for the second round of our contest, which will be-” he looked at his paper, and a goofy smile broke out on his face “-the striptease competition!” Johnny blinked. “Aw, dang, this is gonna be…wow.”
“Folks, we’re in for an exciting event,” Judy said. “Our contestants will be stripping down in the sexiest way they know how. The only rule is that they have to dance the whole time, which means they can’t do any seriously raunchy stuff with each other…at least, not ‘til the next round.”
In the wings, Lois and Meg Griffin were waiting to be called onstage. Lois was now wearing a sexy-businesswoman outfit, which featured a white blouse with a V-shaped neckline that ended between Lois’ small breasts, a tasteful pearl necklace, a short black skirt, black stockings, and shiny high-heeled shoes. Meg, in contrast, was wearing a gray men’s business suit and tie.
“So I’m not going to dance at all?” Meg protested. “I’m just going to…sit there?”
“Sweetie,” Lois replied, “you’ve got a very important job. I can’t do a lap dance without a lap, can I?”
“First up,” Johnny announced, “we have…Team Griffin!”
As the crowd cheered, Lois strutted onto the stage and flirted with the audience while a stagehand placed a chair in the middle of the stage, sideways to the audience. Meg then emerged, not drawing attention to herself—as instructed—as she walked to the chair and sat down in it.
Some music started up: “Rock ‘n Roll All Night” by Kiss. Some might not have called it a great song for stripping, but to Lois’ mind, it was the sexiest number ever written. Although she realized that having once banged Gene Simmons in her younger years might have biased her in this regard.
Lois turned her back to the audience and shook her ass to the beat, showing off the tight fit of her suit-skirt around her curvy ass. She spun back around and, on every second musical beat, undid one button of her blouse, her fingers slowly working their way down until the last button was undone. Lois then grabbed the blouse’s lapels and, when the next beat came, yanked the blouse open, revealing a baby-blue, lacy demi-bra that left the tops of her breasts exposed to the audience’s hungry eyes.
As the crowd whistled and hooted appreciatively, Lois leaned forward to hang her barely-covered tits in Meg’s face. Then she straightened up, turned her back to the audience, and undid the clasp of her bra, tossing the garment off to the side of the stage. She looked back at the audience over her shoulder as she turned slowly back to face Meg, showing the crowd her bare tits in profile.
“Here we have it, folks,” Judy said, “our first serious glimpse of skin in this competition. And some fine skin it is.”
“And it doesn’t even look like it’s packed full of silicone,” Daria added.
Lois now danced very close to her daughter, her bare breasts right in the girl’s face. At one point, Lois let her nipple brush against Meg’s lips; this was captured in closeup on the big screen, drawing a collective “oooooh” from the audience.
“Aw damn that’s sexy!” Foxxy Love blurted. Touching her own nipples where they protruded through the thin fabric of her orange crop top, she added, “Gotta respect a lady who knows how to use her nips on them lips.”
Lois straightened up and leaned back, giving the audience another good look at her breasts in profile. Then she leaned forward again, this time drawing attention to her ass as she shimmied her short black suit-skirt down and off. Beneath, she was wearing lacy black panties that hugged her ass, showing it off in great detail, and a matching pair of garters that held up her stockings.
As Lois turned her back to the audience, her ass swaying, Meg performed the one piece of choreography assigned to her: She turned her chair ninety degrees so that she was facing the audience.
Lois moved between the crowd and Meg, facing the teenager and straddling her lap. Lois leaned forward, again putting her breasts right in her daughter’s face as she showed off her slender derriere to everyone else. Then Lois reached back and ever so slowly pulled those lacy black panties down, revealing her pink, red-tufted pussy and eliciting a substantial response from the audience.
In an unwitting high-pitched chorus, chipmunks Alvin, Simon, and Theodore simultaneously murmured, “Mmmm, pussy…” as they stared at Lois’ exposed love box.
“Not as much as there should be,” Nicole Watterson interjected, the blue cat-fur on her neck ruffling. “Is no one else bothered by the complete lack of furry representation in this contest?”
Her husband Richard, his eyes locked onto the action on stage, absently replied, “Mmmm, pussy…”
Lois straightened up, artfully spun around, and then made the opposite move to what she had just done, bending forward to put her ass in Meg’s face while displaying her hanging tits to the audience. There was more hooting.
The song ended, and Lois straightened up again and took a bow. As her mother strode sexily offstage, Meg stood up, quickly bowed, then scurried away after her.
“Well,” said Judy, “looks like Team Griffin has gotten this competition off to a good start.”
“Even though the daughter pretty much just sat there,” Daria added.
“Whoa boy,” Johnny said, wiping his brow. “Next up, we’ve got Team Garcia-Shapiro!”
Isabella came out first, looking positively adorable in a pink sundress, black patent-leather shoes, and, of course, a pink hair bow. She skipped childishly around the stage, drawing sighs and “Awwwws” from the audience.
“Looks like Isabella’s trying to win over the pedo crowd,” said Daria.
“Capitalizing on her youth is a smart move,” Judy said. “Isabella is known for her extreme cuteness, which is capable of burning out any cuteness-measuring device from up to fifty feet away.”
“Must be about eighty feet for you,” Daria replied.
“Oooh, um,” Judy said awkwardly, “you probably don’t know this, but that’s…a little racist.”
“Huh. So that human boob-chick calling herself ‘Jessica Rabbit’—is that, like, blackface for you guys?”
“No, no, it’s her married name, so it’s okay,” Judy replied. “Although, human women marrying rabbit guys when it’s so hard for us rabbit women to find- Actually, that’s a conversation for another time.”
Now, Vivian came out onto the stage. In stark contrast to her daughter’s innocent attire, Vivian was wearing a hotrod-red blouse with a plunging neckline that showed off a substantial amount of cleavage, a long, black skirt with a slit up the side that exposed her entire left leg and outer thigh, high-heeled shoes in the same shiny black as her daughter’s, and a red feather in her hair.
“Mammelli,” Vivian murmured as she sidled sexily up to Isabella’s side, “you look so sweet.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Isabella whispered. “You look really sexy.”
The music began to play—a jolly little klezmer number to whose rhythm Isabella skipped in circles around her mother before taking a choreographed tumble to the floor, “accidentally” showing the audience the pink little-girl panties that hugged her adorable ass.
Vivian reached down to help Isabella up, and then the music changed to a sexy Spanish-guitar piece.
Still holding hands, mother and daughter looked smokily into each other’s eyes. Then, as Isabella watched, Vivian danced and twirled around her, her long skirt rising up to show the high-cut red panties Vivian wore beneath. Then, leaning over Isabella as though to give the girl a view straight down her cleavage, Vivian let her daughter undo the buttons of her red blouse and fling the garment away, revealing the lacy red bra Vivian wore underneath.
Now it was Isabella’s turn to dance. Turning her back to the audience, the little girl danced in front of Vivian, who grasped the shoulders of Isabella’s pink dress so that her daughter could undulate her way out of it, giving her mother and the audience a good look at those pretty pink panties, as well as Isabella’s naked back. The audience hooted.
“Nothing teases like a bare back,” Judy commented.
Daria replied, “Sounds like some guys in the audience want to bareback her.”
With quick, flamenco-like steps, Vivian approached Isabella, then turned around so that both mother and daughter were facing away from the audience. Isabella took one long step to place herself behind her mother; then, with speed clearly born of practice, Isabella unsnapped Vivian’s red bra in a single motion, and Vivian flung the undergarment away.
Taking another series of small, quick steps, both ladies turned toward the audience, which gave a rising cheer as the mother and daughter’s bare chests were exposed to their gaze for the first time. The onlookers seemed to particularly appreciate how Isabella moved back against her mom so that the girl’s head was nestled between Vivian’s substantial tits, and the way that Vivian slid her hands down over her daughter’s torso, her fingers making the barest teasing contact with Isabella’s nipples in the process.
But Vivian’s hands didn’t stop there. They proceeded down over Isabella’s flat stomach, momentarily calling attention to the little girl’s cute oval-shaped navel, before coming to the top edge of Isabella’s pink panties—and then, with teasing slowness, pulling them down to reveal the little girl’s hairless pussy. The crowd cheered even more loudly.
Vivian raised her arms, her fingers extended and splayed as though she were holding invisible castanets, and rotated flamenco-style to face the left side of the stage. With a whirling turn, the naked Isabella put herself behind her mother. Then, as the woman bent forward and gave the audience a sexy smile, Isabella slowly pulled down her mother’s panties, bending forward herself in the process so that the onlookers were seeing both dancer’s asses—Vivian’s broad, shapely one and Isabella’s petite, pert one—in magnificent profile.
While this performance was underway, Riley Daring was in her dressing room getting ready for her performance. Her mother had stepped out to take a call.
Riley was just about to strip off her previous outfit and get into an even less modest one for the striptease act when there was a knock on the door. Riley opened it to find a red-haired guy who looked about twenty, wearing a red jacket and holding a box labeled Planet Express.
“Are you Riley Daring?” the young man asked.
“That’s me,” Riley replied.
“Package for you.”
Just then, a young woman with purple hair, a single cyclopean eye, and combat boots came through the door at the end of the hall.
“Fry, hurry it up,” she called. “We still have to deliver ninety-two thousand rolls of toilet paper to Exlaxalon Five. Believe me, we don’t want to be late with that shipment.”
“Coming, Leela!’
The young man thrust the box into Riley’s hands and hurried away. Riley looked at the box and saw that it had a card, which she opened.
“To Riley Daring, the hottest daughter on stage. Love, Your Fans.”
Riley went back into the dressing room and closed the door. Then she opened the box and gasped.
It was chocolate. A whole array of chocolate. It was in a sectioned plastic tray, stacked on top of another such tray, on top of another. There had to be more than fifty pieces in there, and good ones, too—truffles, salted caramels, toffee squares, hazelnut crunchies, the works.
Riley’s eyes darted to and fro. Her mother was a real stickler with Riley when it came to sweets, but the platinum-blonde woman was nowhere in sight. Which didn’t necessarily mean anything—Agent K could disguise herself as a sofa cushion if she wanted to—but this was as safe as it was going to get. And surely it wouldn’t do Riley any harm if she ate just one piece of chocolate. Okay, two. Maybe three. Yes, three would be the limit…
Back on stage, Isabella had flung away her mother’s lacy red panties, and the two were now looking back at their shoulders at the audience as the mother and daughter’s bare asses swayed back and forth in unison. Then the song ended, and the two took a long, slow bow, giving the cheering audience one last look at their bodies—naked save for their shoes, Vivian’s red hair-feather, and Isabella’s pink hair bow—before they departed the stage.
As stagehands gathered up the discarded pieces of the Garcia-Shapiros’ costumes, Johnny returned to the stage and announced that Team Daring would be up next.
Agent K and Riley emerged from behind the curtain wearing long, faux-chinchilla-fur coats with matching fur stoles around their necks. Agent K smiled, looking forward to the moment when she and her daughter would hurl the coats away to reveal their ever-so-sexy fluorescent-green sling bikinis. Each one formed a V up the wearer’s front, the two green straps covering little of K’s smallish breasts and scarcely more of Riley’s petite ones. These were sure to please the audience.
“Ready, darling?” Agent K asked her daughter quietly as they stepped out into the bright stage lights.
“Wait,” Riley said, looking around wild-eyed at the crowd. “Why is everyone looking at me?”
“Well, we’re on stage, sweetheart.”
“You!” Riley cried, pointing an accusing finger at Johnny. “You’re their overlord! I’m on to you now!”
“What the-?” Johnny began.
Riley ran and leaped at him, clinging to his torso with her legs while she tried to strangle him with her faux-chinchilla stole. Johnny panicked and dropped his mic.
“You’re going down, you micro-phoney!” the young redhead hollered.
Agent K was shocked. Now she could see her daughter’s face, and she recognized the manic look on it all too well. Riley was on a psychotic sugar rush.
Johnny considered himself a karate expert, but he couldn’t just unleash his awesome fury on some barely-teenage girl, even if she did have three feet of fake fur wrapped around his throat. There was also the fact that he didn’t know how to hit anything that was less than an arm’s length away.
Lady Jaye and Roadblock—two of several G.I. Joe members who were working security at the theater that night, thanks to government budget cuts—dashed onto the stage, pulled Riley off of Johnny, and dragged her away, literally kicking and screaming as she spouted wild conspiracy theories about laboratory mice, a red-eyed alien boy with no ears, and something called “Decepticons” teaming up to take over the world. Agent K, looking worried, followed after her daughter.
“Well,” said Judy, “it looks like we got a little unscheduled excitement in our show tonight. Although I don’t think it’s going to play well with our judges.”
In a near monotone, Daria replied, “It was just a matter of time before somebody in this crazy flesh-contest snapped.”
Johnny caught his breath and snatched up his microphone. He was embarrassed at his inability to defend himself from a single young girl, however deranged, so he went on like nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, backstage, Team Loud was nearly ready to go on.
“Mom,” Lola said as she buckled on her metallic-gold stripper shoes with their three-inch heels, “we’re doing great, but we need to do better than great. We need to prove we’re the best!”
“Sweetheart,” Rita said, “cheating doesn’t make us the best.”
Lola’s eyebrows rose. Then, instantly, her face morphed into a picture of childish innocence as she replied, “Whatever do you mean, Mother dear?”
“You used my credit card to order two glue sticks, a box of chocolates, AND a 30-day trial of Disney Plus. Obviously for research purposes.”
“Please, Mommy,” the six-year-old begged, making the most adorably beseeching expression her face could produce, “I really need you to help me win. Which means I need you to be the hottest, sexiest version of yourself. Like you were with Dad back in the day—you know, when you were dating, and then when you got him to knock you up ten times.”
For the first time since the contest began, Rita smiled just a little.
“Well, that was fun,” she said, looking off into space. Then she turned to Lola. “All right, I’m in. But no more cheating. If we’re going to win this, we need to do it fair and square.”
“Of course, Mother,” Lola replied, her fingers crossed behind her back.
“And now,” Johnny shouted from the stage, “takin’ their clothes off for your entertainment pleasure, Team Loud!”
Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” began to play—a song recommended by Lola’s hard-rocking older sister, Luna. Lola emerged into the spotlight, which followed her as she strutted to center stage. In addition to her gold high heels, she wore a slinky black dress that clung to her slim body and that had a diamond-shaped cutout on each side, showing the audience a bit of midriff.
Under Lola’s arm was a leather riding crop. When she reached center stage, she took the crop in hand and pointed it toward the wings from which she had just emerged. Another spotlight appeared there.
Rita Loud stepped into the light and slinked sultrily across the stage toward Lola. The color scheme of Rita’s outfit was the opposite of her daughter’s: Rita’s dress was shimmering gold and her spiked heels were black, instead of the other way around. The dress was substantially shorter than Lola’s, though, showing off the sparkly black stockings she had on beneath. Rita also wore two fuzzy gold-colored bracelets that were clearly a separated pair of bondage handcuffs. But the most eye-catching part of her ensemble was on her face: a golden ball-gag with a black strap.
Turning toward her mother and standing sideways to the audience, Lola raised her riding crop like a conductor’s baton. She twirled the tip of the crop in the air, and her mother spun around. The skirt of her golden dress lifted and flared, giving the crowd a glimpse of the black, crotchless panties beneath, their dark color contrasting with Rita’s blonde bush. The audience made noises of appreciation.
In time with the music, Lola used her crop to “conduct” Rita through several more dance moves: running her hands down her own body from her shoulders to her breasts to her hips and back up again; turning sideways to the audience and bending forward to give her plush ass the same treatment; and then slowly and sensually pulling down the zipper on the side of her shimmering dress and shimmying out of it to reveal the shiny gold-lamé bra and the black crotchless panties she had on underneath.
Lola then gave the riding crop a quick flick, and Rita froze in place like a statue while Lola took her turn performing. Hers was a raunchy, gyrating dance in which she used some of the same moves she’d directed her mother to make, running her hands suggestively all over her own body and then her mother’s too, paying particular attention to the curves of Rita’s wide ass.
Lola threw the audience a wicked smile, then shifted behind Rita and swiftly unclasped the woman’s gold-lamé bra. She tossed it away to expose Rita’s pale, pink-nippled tits to the hooting audience. Then, moving to one side of her topless mom, Lola shimmied out of her slinky black dress. Underneath, the little blonde girl was wearing a pair of black harness shorts, whose straps hugged the bottom of her ass—but that was all, so Lola’s chest was now exposed to the audience’s gaze. Her nipples had the same pale-pink hue as her mother’s.
“Wow, I can’t wait ‘til she gets those shorts off,” Wreck-It-Ralph said, his big fists clenching in excitement. “You think the carpet matches the drapes?”
“She’s six years old, ya stinkbrain,” Vanellope von Schweetz replied, elbowing him. “It’s just natural wood flooring down there.”
Now, Lola flicked her mother’s panty-clad ass with the riding crop, just hard enough to make a little snapping sound, and Rita became animate again. At Lola’s direction, she turned her back to the audience and swayed her hips from side to side, then hooked her fingers in the waistband of her black panties and slowly bent forward, pulling the panties down and giving the audience a long, full look at her pink pussy and blonde bush. The audience members variously cheered, howled, and whistled.
Lola bobbed the tip of the riding crop in the air a few times and then sharply whipped it downward. As Rita responded by taking a few steps toward Lola with the bobbing gait of a streetwalker, Lola turned her back to her mother and sideways to the audience. Rita dropped to her knees behind her daughter and yanked the girl’s harness shorts off to the sound of yielding Velcro, revealing Lola’s bare ass. Rita’s face was close to her daughter’s backside as she did this, suggesting that she might start eating out the little blonde girl.
The song ended, and the naked Lola directed Rita to take a bow—then stopped her in mid-bow, leaped onto her shoulders, and smacked her in the ass with the riding crop and shouted “Giddyup!” Rita straightened up and trotted off the stage with Lola riding on her shoulders and blowing kisses to the audience.
Backstage, Team Parr had finished dressing for the event and had just arrived in the wings. As before, they were wearing matching outfits, and with the same color scheme: tight, electric-blue tube tops, black miniskirts, black fishnet stockings, and black spiked heels. It had taken weeks of training to get Violet used to dancing in those shoes.
“Mom,” Violet said, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd, “I’m kinda nervous. I mean, I’m not as sexy as some of those other girls, and-”
“Sweetie,” Helen interrupted, putting her hand on Violet’s cheek, “you’re as beautiful as anyone in this theater. And more than that, you have depth. All those other girls are two-dimensional.”
Helen could scarcely believe that her daughter thought of herself as anything less than utterly, irresistibly attractive. In recent weeks, Helen had been so drawn to Violet as to make excuses to come into the girl’s room when she was changing, and to be physically affectionate with her as often as possible. Helen would savor the sensation of the girl’s smooth skin whenever they touched, of Violet’s small breasts pressed against her larger ones when they hugged. At night, while Bob snored beside her, Helen had fantasized about the things that she longed, ever more ardently, to do with her little girl’s beautiful, developing body. And later, she’d done more than fantasize…
It was time to go on stage, so Helen forced her thoughts back to the present.
“Remember,” Helen whispered, “whenever your hands aren’t on me, your eyes are.”
“Got it,” Violet replied.
Knowing that her genuine passion for her daughter could translate into a more exciting performance for the audience, Helen had Violet go ahead of her as they headed for the stage and kept her eyes on the girl’s lovely body—most especially her ass, which looked positively scrumptious in that tight miniskirt.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Johnny Bravo called, “Team Parr!”
As cheers rose from the audience, Daria commented, “Looks like the audience is hoping Team Parr’ll do something to top the other acts. Whatever it is, it’ll have to be pretty messed up.”
“That’s right, Daria, plenty of excitement in the air!” Judy agreed.
The music that came on was an edgy, horn-heavy piece, like the theme song from a spy movie. The Parr ladies came out onto the stage hand-in-hand, walking in rhythm. Each of them swung one foot around in front of the other with every step, like a cat walking along the top of a fence, Helen’s generous hips and Violet’s slim ones swinging from side to side. The mother and daughter’s tight tube tops made their nipples visible through the thin, stretchy fabric.
They reached center stage and stopped abruptly. Then they released their hand-hold and turned to face each other, standing sideways to the audience. Their eyes were locked as they undulated like belly dancers, every movement drawing attention to their chests, flat stomachs, and shapely asses.
They inched closer and closer to each other as they danced, until their breasts brushed against each other with each wave-like movement. Various audience members nodded in approval.
“You know,” Star Butterfly said sultrily as she reached past the arm of her seat to put a hand on Marco Diaz’s thigh, “I can dance like that, too.”
“So can I,” said Jackie Lynn-Thomas, who sat on the other side of him and put her hand on his other thigh.
From the row behind them, Janna Ordoña shouted, “Me too!”, then leaped over the back of Marco’s seat to land in his lap, earning glares from the other two girls.
“Um, wow,” Marco said, wide-eyed. “This is one of those, uh, first-world problems…”
As she danced with her daughter, Helen took a moment to congratulate herself: In the few weeks they’d had to prepare for this contest, she’d managed to teach Violet to move very sexily indeed. If she looked even half as hot to the audience as she did to Helen, their victory in this competition was assured.
Helen reached out and laid her hand on Violet’s bare belly. Then, as Helen circled around behind Violet, Helen’s hand slid around to her daughter’s side and then onto the small of her back. Now, they were facing the audience, with Helen directly behind Violet.
After Violet raised her arms and began snaking her hands and wrists in the air like a belly-dancer, Helen put her palms on the backs of Violet’s wrists and then moved her hands slowly down the girl’s arms and torso, tracing the gentle curves of Violet’s small breasts and waist. When Helen’s hands reached Violet’s hips, her fingers snagged the waistband of the girl’s miniskirt and pulled the garment down slowly, revealing the electric-blue thong panties beneath. They were so snug that they showed off the teenager’s mound in perfect detail. The audience murmured approval.
“Taking the skirt off first is an unorthodox move,” Judy commented. “But Team Parr will have to do more than that to distinguish their act from the others.”
Helen used her elasticity to extend her arms just enough to push Violet’s skirt down to the floor without Helen having to bend over excessively. She didn’t want to be too obvious about her superpowers just yet. As Helen had learned while posing as an exotic dancer during a lengthy undercover operation, audiences liked the unusual, but contortionism—especially contortionism that wasn’t humanly possible—was often a turnoff.
Once Violet’s skirt was on the floor, Helen ran her hands back up the girl’s legs, her fingertips tracing up her daughter’s bare thighs and grazing her pussy-mound. She heard Violet suck in a breath, which made Helen smile inwardly.
The Parrs now slinkily maneuvered themselves so as to switch places, with Violet behind her mother. Now, it was Violet who kept her hands on Helen’s waist as the woman turned herself around to face away from the audience. Violet slowly moved her hands down to her mother’s womanly hips and then lowered her miniskirt as Helen had Violet’s. The audience was most pleased by the sight of Helen’s shapely ass in nothing but an electric-blue thong like Violet’s, which left about ninety-seven percent of Helen’s fine backside exposed.
“Daaaang,” Boomhauer drawled from the judges’ table. “S’like two dangol’watermelonsinastringbag, y’all.”
“Yeah,” Asami agreed, staring. “Suddenly I have a new favorite fruit.”
As Helen had done, Violet brought her hands back up slowly, her palms moving over the curves of her mother’s well-toned but generously proportioned ass. Then, as they had rehearsed, Violet’s fingertips traveled up Helen’s bare waist, and her fingertips snagged the bottom of the woman’s tube top and slowly pulled it up and off. Now, the audience was looking at Helen’s bare back.
“Interesting,” Judy commented. “Helen Parr has nothing on under her top. A bold choice for a striptease competition.”
In a few shuffling dance steps, Helen and Violet turned sideways to the audience, and Violet’s hands again came down her mother’s arms and over her breasts, her thumbs grazing the woman’s pink nipples as they passed.
“Guess they’re relying on lezzing out on each other to get them through the last couple minutes,” Daria added.
Helen danced closer to Violet. As she did so, she used her powers as subtly as she could to increase her height by just a couple of inches. Now, her bare breasts were inches from Violet’s parted lips—a bit of suggestiveness that no one in the audience missed, judging from their hooting.
Violet again raised her arms and snaked them in the air as Helen slid her hands down the girl’s torso and then back up to peel her electric-blue tube top up and off. The audience cheered as Violet’s small but perky teenage tits were revealed.
“Wow,” Cat Noir murmured. “That’s just what Ladybug’s look like in my dreams…”
As soon as Helen tossed Violet’s top away behind her, her hands went right back onto the girl’s waist, maneuvering the dancing Violet in front of her again and turning the both of them to face the audience as Helen imperceptibly shrank back to her normal height. Then, Helen again moved her hands down her daughter’s body—this time slowly pulling down the girl’s thong panties. The audience howled as the teenager’s pussy, topped with just a narrow triangle of black hair, came into view. Helen could feel Violet shudder a bit at being seen completely naked by the crowd of onlookers.
“You’re doing great, baby,” Helen murmured in the girl’s ear, even as she ran her hands sensuously up the girl’s nude hips, stomach, and breasts. “Just keep it up, we’re almost done.”
In a move they had practiced many times, Violet reached back, found Helen’s thong panties by feel, and pushed them down by about a foot, after which they dropped to the floor. The sounds from the audience were mixed, as they no doubt would have liked to see Helen’s pussy bared without Violet blocking their view.
Suddenly, Violet vanished, making her mother’s fully naked body visible to all. The audience fell largely silent for a moment, the only sounds a few gasps of disbelief. Then the crowd went wild with cheers and applause.
In the audience, Wonder Woman turned to Batman. “You don’t think that’s cheating, do you? Using superpowers?”
“You know my philosophy,” the Dark Knight replied. “Use every advantage you have.”
“You know,” Wonder Woman said, her tone a bit sultry, “we used to have contests like this on Themyscira. My mother and I often won.”
“Maybe you could take me to see one some time.”
“I’d love to, but I’d be banished, and you’d be beheaded.”
As Helen strutted triumphantly offstage behind her invisible daughter, Johnny returned to the spotlight, and the curtain fell behind him.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, “let’s have a big round of applause for all our hot mamas!”
The audience clapped and shouted raucously. Up in the commenters’ booth, Judy turned on her mic.
“Well, folks, it looks like our judges have some tough decisions to make. Let’s listen in.”
“Team Parr’s magic trick was cool,” Cat Noir was saying. “And that Violet…wow.”
“And I liked the strong sapphic undertones,” Asami Sato added.
“But,” Cat continued, “I thought their dancing was a little repetitive. Team Garcia-Shapiro was much more original.”
“Personally,” George Jetson said, “I don’t think you can beat Team Loud for originality. I mean, I’m from the future, and even I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Yeah, dat was some sick-ass shit right there,” Foxxy Love said, nodding approvingly. “That li’l blonde girl is all kinds o’ crazy. Cain’t wait to see what she does next.”
Boomhauer added, “Dang’ol’ li’l bondagejockey, jus’wavin’thatwhip all snapsnapsnapsnapsnap, ‘slikeFiftyShadesofDressage, man.”
The judges all punched in their scores, and then the screen lit up with them. Team Loud had the highest score, while Teams Parr and Garcia-Shapiro were in a statistical tie for second place, and Team Griffin trailed behind them. Team Daring’s performance was unscored, as Riley’s episode of unhingement had gotten them eliminated by default.
“Daria, tag in,” Judy whispered.
“And now,” Daria said flatly, clearly reading from a script, “let’s see where the total scores stand.”
The set of scores from the kissing competition appeared in a column on the screen, next to the scores for the striptease competition. Then a third column appeared showing each team’s total score, and the list of contestants was reordered accordingly.
Team                          Kissing            Striptease       TOTAL
Loud                            5.5                   9.0                   14.5
Parr                             6.5                   7.5                   14.0
Garcia-Shapiro            6.0                   7.0                   13.0
Griffin                         8.0                   5.0                   13.0
Daring                         7.0                   —                    Out

“Looks like Team Loud is in the lead,” Judy said, “'but only by a hair.”
Daria droned, “Must…not…make…‘hare’ joke…”
“Which means,” Judy continued, pointedly ignoring Daria’s comment, “it’s still anybody’s contest, folks!”
Backstage, Lola rubbed her palms together gleefully at the news that her team had taken the lead. But that lead was small, so this was no time to let up. Something would have to be done about Team Parr…
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Cartooniverse Mother-Daughter Crossover Sextacular