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He's Like The Wind	By : LordKuyohashi Category: +S through Z > Simpsons Views: 6265 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, or any related characters, and neither accept nor receive any monetary or compensatory reward for this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Then

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Bart wandered through the twilit woods skirting the Springfield city limits. He swore under his breath, reprimanding himself for taking only a blanket to wrap around his shoulders instead of an actual jacket. He looked around the woods, trying in vain to find his guide, the soft whistle of the biting wind and the cries of animals in the darkness chilling him more than the cold.
“Okay Milhouse, this stopped being fun about an hour ago! Where the hell are you?”
Bart never should have come out here. He knew that. He knew that the moment his feet landed outside his treehouse. Milhouse had been acting weird when he invited Bart to come see something “cool” that he had found in the woods. But Bart had been glad to see his best friend again. Milhouse had missed a few days of school, so when he showed up outside Bart’s window that night, offering a fun misadventure and a chance for mischief, he jumped at it. Anything to end the boredom he had suffered under the last few days.
Trees swayed in the wind. Weird and horrifying shadows passed by overhead, clouds in strange shapes passing in front of the moon. The back of Bart’s neck prickled in the cold air. Somewhere, behind him, a voice muttered something, but the words were mangled in the wind and the echo of his heartbeat in his ears. Somewhere overhead, the fluttering of wings filled the air; Bart craned his head upward, trying to find the source of the sounds, seeing only the skeletal limbs of the leaf-barren trees forming a jagged cage above him.
“Milhouse, seriously, this isn’t fucking funny! I’m about to go home, okay? I’ll see you at school tomorrow!”
Bart was able to walk four steps when a twig behind him snapped, leaves crunching under phantom footsteps. He spun around, Milhouse standing in the wooded clearing, his gaze lowered to the ground. Bart let out a yelp, then quickly tried to play it off as nothing.
“Shit, Milhouse, what’s the big fucking idea? Dragging me out here in the middle of the night, freezing my ass off, what the hell, man?”
Milhouse didn’t move. Milhouse didn’t speak. Milhouse didn’t look up.
“Whatever, man.” Bart turned back for home. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
The next thing Bart knew, he was face down in the detritus of the woods, his face mashed into the mud, something sharp stabbing into his neck and a heavy weight pinning him down. He tried to scream, tried to cry out or kick himself away to safety or roll onto his back so he could see what was attacking him, but his body wouldn’t respond. The world’s colour began to bleed out of his vision, a horrific cold washing over him, seeping into his bones. The stars started going out, the lights on the houses in the distance dimming with every passing moment. Bart’s heart thumped deafeningly in his ears, slowly diminishing its rhythm, until it came to a stuttering halt.
As the world went dark, the heavy weight on his back vanished, and the muffled sound of footsteps on dead leaves approaching made his eyes drift to the side, hoping to see something that could explain what had happened. A familiar pair of red shoes came into view, a distant and incomprehensible voice saying something to someone. Something ran away, and the red shoes-person knelt down.
Bart opened his eyes. His neck hurt so badly, way worse than that time he broke his leg jumping into his pool. A pair of red eyes loomed over him, glowing brightly like two distant stars, the only colour left in his dim, monochrome world. A voice said something, something that sounded like words, like his name being called. Something cold pressed against his lips, a foul, thick goop seeping into his mouth and down his throat. It burned coldly, like drinking liquid nitrogen, and he wanted to cough and retch and puke it up, but his body was like lead. The cold spread through his body, his heartbeat slowing down, his chest aching as it came to a stop.
As his eyes closed one last time, the voice became clearer, sounding familiar, with a heavy tint of sorrow and love in its words.
“--’Ll be alright, sweetie. Momm-”

Now

Bart’s eyes snapped open, shocked awake by the sensation of something grabbing his pud and stroking it. In front of him was the back of Jessica’s head, a curtain of black obscuring his view of his sister. He blinked, and remembered - he was in Lisa’s room, in her bed, where they had fallen asleep while comforting Jessica after Nelson Muntz’ attack the night before.
Hushed voices coming from the two girls next to him told Bart that he wasn’t the first one awake. Someone was stroking his cock to full hardness, and he bit his lip to keep silent, not wanting to alarm whichever girl was giving him the handjob.
“Do you want it, Jess?”
“Yes, Mistress, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please let me feel it.”
“Say it, Jessica. Tell me what you want.”
Bart listened as Lisa teased her thrall in hushed tones.
“I…I want Master’s cum! Please have him cum in my panties so I can wear them and feel his seed against my cunt!”
Bart wanted to move, wanted to speak up, but…he also didn’t. Lisa’s hand massaged his turgid cock, milking it into a piece of cloth he assumed was Jessica’s panties. He listened as Lisa teased and taunted her toy, wet smacking as they kissed, loud slurping as Jessica sucked on Lisa’s long, wicked tongue.
The thought of jizzing in Jessica’s panties, the sensation of Lisa’s little fingers stroking his cock, and the sounds of the girls kissing only served to make Bart’s cock harder, faster, and he decided not to fight the urge to cum, letting his balls drain against the cotton fabric held against his cockhead.
Lisa watched as the thick globs of pearly cum oozed into the crotch of Jessica’s pretty pink panties. She licked her lips and fought the urge to slurp up her brother’s load. Instead, she pressed the soaked panties into her thrall’s shivering, bare cunt, massaging it against her skin, watching Jessica shudder as the cold seed made contact with her slit.
“Oooh god, Mistress, thaaaaank you. It feels so gooood.”
Lisa sat up, slipping the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, her puffy, darkened nipples sliding into view.
“I know it does, pet. Now, come drink my milk. I need my tits drained properly.”
Bart couldn’t see Lisa’s sly smile, but he could hear the tone of her voice, wicked and scheming.
“Or perhaps you’d rather have Bart fuck a load into you directly?”
Jessica rolled over to face Bart, her face red and flushed to learn that he had been awake the whole time. Embarrassed, she buried her face in his neck, throwing her arm around him.
“Master! I’m sorry, Mistress made me take your cum in my panties!”
Bart sat up in bed, his hard cock jutting upwards. Lisa, her full, milk-leaking tits out, was rubbing her bulging, pregnant tummy happily, while Jessica stared at Bart’s erect dick, rubbing her sticky, wet panties into her pussy.
“Good morning, darling.” Lisa’s voice was a dark chirp. Her eyes were full of lust, watching as her pet girl eyed Bart’s stiff cock. :”Did you want to go down for some breakfast, or did you want to have a quick fuck?”
Bart smirked, his cock throbbing at his sister’s perverse words. To him, the two ideas were one in the same. Lisa crawled over Jessica, positioning herself between Bart’s stretched out legs, sitting on her haunches. She slowly lifted her nightgown over her round belly, rubbing it seductively, flashing predatory eyes to her brother.
“Fffffuck, look at what you did, Bart. Look at how big and pregnant you made me. You went and knocked up your own sister.” She reached out, cupping his balls gently, massaging his prostate through his taint. “You stuck that fat cock in me, fucked me like an animal, and spewed your hot cum deep inside my womb, and look at what you did to me.”
Bart pulled Lisa into himself, their noses touching, his cock sliding along the cleft of her puffy, moist cuntlips.
“What are you trying to do, Lees?”
Lisa sidled up against Bart, positioning her brother’s dick against her burning twat.
“I’m waving a red cape at a bull, Bart. I want you so horned up, so fucking hot for me, that you throw me onto my back and slam-fuck me until I lose my fucking mind again. I want you to drive your horny fucking sister completely crazy with your cock.”
Fingers dug into Lisa’s assflesh, making her yelp in surprise, then wiggling her ass against Bart. She looked behind, seeing Jessica playing with her plump ass globes.
“Jessica! What are you doing?”
Jessica looked up at Lisa, smiling. “I want to serve you, Mistress. Let me help you onto Master’s dick.”
Lisa’s eyes went dark and mad with lust. Her tongue played against the points of her fangs. With a wolfish smile, she nodded to her thrall.
“Good girl, fit that monster cock into my cunny, Jessica.”
Jessica grinned widely as she pushed Bart’s cock into Lisa’s slippery cunt, Lisa lowering her ass onto her brother’s hard shaft, seething as she sank down onto it. Bart grunted as his cockhead pressed against Lisa’s womb, biting at her neck gently, her swollen, milky tits leaking against his chest as she rode him slowly. Bart’s eyes fell on Jessica, who was watching Lisa’s pussy devour the thick, veiny cock, her butt raised up and wiggling, bringing to mind a cat preparing to pounce on a toy. Bart reached out, and pressed her sticky, cum-stained panties into her slit, making her yelp in shock as Master played with her. He pushed his ring finger against her cunt, watching her struggle to keep her composure.
“Hnnnh! Mistressssss, Master is playing with my pussy!”
Lisa turned her head to see her brother-lover frigging her thrall, pulling and twisting at her puffy nipples, a spray of warm milk spritzing against Bart’s chest and running down his stomach.
“Oh fuck yes. Dig that cum into her cunt, baby. Knock this little bitch up, too! Make her swell up like a fucking balloon with your baby, Bart!”
The threat of being surreptitiously impregnated made Jessica panic, and she tried to wiggle herself free.
“Noooo! Mistress, I can’t get pregnant!”
Lisa’s expression turned cruel, and she reached out, snatching Jessica’s head up by the hair and glaring into her eyes, cold and red.
“Be quiet, Jessica. It would make me very happy if you’d shut up, sit still, and let Bart finger his load into your fucking cunt.”
“But I can’t have babies yet, Mistress! I haven’t-”
Jessica’s eyes rolled into her head, and her body shook and collapsed as an orgasm racked through her. Lisa smiled her dominating smile. “Right, silly of me. You haven’t even gone through puberty yet. Well, then just take that second-hand cream pie anyway, Jess.”
Jessica’s pussy made wet, squelching sounds as Bart fingered her deeper, the poor girl moaning gibberish as her body betrayed her. Lisa whispered into Bart’s ear, his own personal shoulder-devil.
“Mmm, when you’re about to cum, let me know. I want you to shoot all that thick, gooey cum all over her fucking face.” She sealed demand by drawing her long tongue along Bart’s face.
He clutched at her ass, grunting as the cum in his balls came to a boil, ready to explode into her depths.
“Lisa…fffffuck, I’m close. I’m cumming, Lees!”
In a blur of motion, Lisa threw her legs off of Bart’s thighs, grabbed Jessica by the hair and pushed her thrall’s face towards Bart’s spurting cum-cannon, thick ropes of pearlescent seed exploding across Jessica’s bewildered face. As her brother coated Jess in his load, Lisa frigged her soaked cunt like a maniac, shrieking at the sight of her thrall wearing Bart’s cum. Jessica, completely spackled with man-gravy, lost her own shit and let loose a bed-trembling, screaming orgasm. Lisa let out a groan, squirting her juices against her bed, soaking her sheets and her brother. She staggered against Bart, leaning on him while she caught her breath.
After a while, Lisa stood back up, sweeping her hair back away from her face. “Fucking hell that was good. Well anyway, we should get ready for school, I guess. Jessica.” The fucked-out thrall was dabbing at the seed dripping down her face when her Mistress called her name. “I want you to wear Bart’s cum on your face all day. No cleaning yourself up, do you understand?”
Jessica nodded, too stunned to reply. The smell of Bart’s cum as it dripped off her hair and nose was overpowering, and Jessica’s brain couldn’t parse a concept more complex than “Make Mistress Happy.”
Lisa kissed Bart’s lips, then waddled over to her dresser, pulling out a fresh, clean dress and pulling it over her head. Her clothes were still tight against her pregnant belly and growing tits, and despite having been asked by her school to wear more conservative clothes until her “condition” abated, she enjoyed flaunting her pregnant body.
Bart had left to get dressed in his room, and Jessica padded over to Lisa nervously. She picked up her old dress, torn and bloodied from last night’s attack by Nelson, and let it drop to the ground. Her face only mildly throbbed, most of the damage healed by her masters’ blood.
“Mistress, I don’t have anything to wear.”
Lisa looked at her thrall, trying to tug her dress down enough to cover her belly.
“No, I suppose you don’t.” Lisa dug into her drawer, and pulled out a dress identical to the one she was wearing. “Here, you can borrow this one until we can get you some more clothes.”
Jessica took the dress, thanked her Mistress, and stepped into it, pulling it up over her flushed, nearly naked body.

Marge Simpson was sitting at the breakfast table, watching the steam curl off her cup of coffee. Maggie was in her high chair, happily swinging her sippy cup of apple juice through the air like a mighty comet soaring through the sky. Marge’s grey thoughts roiled with unease. The matter of Nelson Muntz’ death last night and his body hidden in the backyard weighed on her. It was inevitable that the police would come around - the feud between Bart and Nelson was well-known, it was just logical that questions would be asked - but the amount of bodies piling up was completely unacceptable. Helen had been one thing - Marge hadn’t expected to find a sleeper agent from the Hunter’s Lodge in Springfield, not after so many years - but Reverend Lovejoy’s “suicide” and now Nelson’s death made her worried. Something was happening in her town. She knew that. She suspected it the night she followed Bart out into the woods outside town and saw Milhouse attempt to kill her son. She had been forced to embrace Bart to save his life, but so far, she hadn’t been able to determine who had embraced Milhouse, or why he had attacked his best friend. Marge had checked up on Luann and Kirk, finding them both safe and sound, if worried about their son, but after having entranced them, she decided that they legitimately hadn’t seen Milhouse since his embrace. He hadn’t gone home to his parents, which was odd - fledglings return to familiar and safe surroundings just out of habit. Milhouse must have already had a safe haven, which meant that he had support. A Master. But who?
She ran down the short list of vampires who had a grudge against her that she had yet to kill, when the usual morning thumping from upstairs started. She smiled, shaking the worry from her mind for a few minutes, and returned her attention to Maggie, giving her another breadstick to chew. After a few minutes, the thumping of Lisa’s bed against the wall, the creaking of her bed springs subsided, and after some creaking floorboards, some footsteps, and some muffled voices, the three of them came downstairs, Bart helping his pregnant sister to the ground floor.
Marge smiled; seeing Bart take care of Lisa in her condition made her proud.
Lisa wobbled into the kitchen, Bart pulling a chair out for her. He did the same for Jessica, who shivered and cooed when she sat down, as if she had sat in something cold and wet.
“‘Morning, Mom.” Lisa was characteristically chipper this morning, as she usually was when she got a chance to ride Bart’s babymaker before school. She enjoyed sitting in class with a belly full of fraternal love.
“Good morning, kids. Did you all have a good sleep?”
Lisa poured herself a bowl of cereal, smiling. "It was alright. The wake up call was better, though."
She flashed a sly smile to Bart, who kissed her cheek, passing her the milk and giving her left tit a cheeky squeeze. Marge looked over to Jessica, who was peeling a banana for her breakfast, and saw the girl's sticky, matted black hair clinging to her forehead.
"Jessica, sweetie, what is that on your face?"
Jessica's skin went red and flushed, but she responded without hesitation. "It's Master's cum. Mistress forbade me from washing it off."
Marge's eyes darted back to her daughter, an eyebrow raised curiously. Lisa only shrugged. "What? I happen to have a very good reason for this. It's for science."
"Science. Really?" Marge was understandably incredulous. "And what exactly is this experiment meant to determine, young lady?"
Lisa scooped a spoonful of Krusty-O's into her mouth, mumbling between bites. "If she'll wear Bart's cum on her face if asked to. Duh."
Marge shook her head, not saying anything further. "Well...she is your thrall. Just be careful that you don't abuse the power you have over her. She's your servant and a spare source of blood, not your
Lisa grunted, staying silent for the rest of breakfast. Marge hastily made them drink more of that horrid magic tea of hers, the Deadman's Respite that allowed them to better blend in with mortal children, and with a kiss on each of their heads, she shooed them out the door in time for Otto's bus to come to a stilted halt in front of the house. Finding a seat in the back of the bus, the three of them sat together, Jessica making sure she took the aisle spot so she could block anyone from seeing Lisa stroking Bart's cock during the trip to school.

As the kids filed off the bus and into Springfield Elementary, Bart was stuffing his flagging cock back into his shorts, Lisa was greedily slurping his seed off her fingers, rolling the thick cum around her mouth and holding off on swallowing it, and Jessica was proudly displaying her sticky cum-stained face. Principal Skinner, watching the children filling the halls head to their lockers and their classrooms, spotted Bart amongst the milling throng, and with quick reflexes, pulled him out of the crowd with one quick motion.
"Hey man, what the fff--heck?"
Skinner pulled Bart into his office. Bart rubbed his neck, annoyed that his post-nut reverie was so violently disrupted, barely noticing Chief Wiggum standing in the office with him.
"Bart, I was just telling Chief Wiggum here about your...altercation with Nelson yesterday."
If Bart was nervous, he was at least smart enough not to show it. He knew well enough that his reputation as something of a dimbulb would serve him well - it wasn't much of a stretch for him to act dumb, when people already thought he was dumb. "You mean when he started swearing at me in class? Wasn't a fight, it was just him throwing a tantrum." He turned to Chief Wiggume, who was nursing a complimentary cup of coffee and one of his emergency ration donuts. "Why, what'd he say? Did he say I tried to hit him or something? Because that's bullsh--bullspit."
Wiggum took a sip of his coffee, washing down a mouthful of donut that he had sitting in his cheek. "Nelson's mom said he went out last night to talk to you, but he never came back home. Do you know anything about that?"
"No. I wasn't home much last night. We had dinner at our neighbours' house. I haven't seen Nelson since he ran out of the classroom crying like a little baby." Inside, Bart smirked. The best lies were the ones that were true, and it was true that Bart hadn't seen Nelson since he exploded in Mrs. Krabappel's classroom the day before.
"Do you have any idea where he might have gone, if not to your house?"
"Nelson and I weren't exactly in love, Chief Wiggum. He didn't check my schedule, I didn't check his. It worked for us. But given that words turned him into a blubbering crybaby, I think that maybe the idea of actually confronting someone who wasn't afraid of him scared him off. For all I know, he might be hiding somewhere, trying to nurse his wounded pride."
"Do you know if he had any specific hiding place?"
"Nope. But given what I know about trolls, have you tried looking under any local bridges?"
Skinner murmured at Bart's flippancy. Not only was he being cavalier to an authority figure, a concept that made Seymour rankle just on principle, but he was making light of a serious thing, a missing child.
"Bart, you and Nelson may not have been friends, but this is serious. His mother is beside herself with worry. She was never the most intact person to begin with, and she's not holding up too well without Nelson at home."
Bart was quiet for a while, pretending to be deep in contemplative thought. When he thought he had played the part of penitent trickster long enough, he spoke up, his voice sad and pitiful. "I'm sorry, Chief. I don't know where Nelson would have gone. He had a few quiet places - an old fort made of junk out in the woods, Dolph and Jimbo would know more about it than I do, and he liked sitting under bridges sometimes. That's not a joke about how ugly he was, he really did like sitting under bridges. I guess he liked listening to the water or something. I really do hope he's okay, and that he comes home soon."
Skinner and WIggum shared a look, and Skinner nodded to Bart, opening the door to the hall for him. "Alright Bart. Thank you for your help, now you get to class."
Bart sank into the ocean of students and vanished. Seymour closed the door, sighed, and turned to Clancy.
"What do you think?"
"I think he's telling just enough of the truth to keep us from taking a closer look. He knows more than he's saying, that much is for sure. Not that we can do anything about it, him being Mistress' son and all."
Another sip of coffee, and WIggum put his cup down on Skinner's desk, patting at his pockets for something that he ultimately did not find. With an annoyed grunt, he turned to Skinner.
"Hey, uh, Seymour, you wouldn't happen to have a spare cricket or something, would you? I wasn't able to get my morning bug snack in and I'm jonesing something fierce right now."
Seymour slid open the top drawer of his desk, and pulled out an ornate wooden cigar box. "Not crickets, no. It's the wrong season for them. But I've been buying Japanese fireflies at the pet shop - I told them I keep geckos - and the bioluminescent chemicals really add a bit of spice to the crunch."
Opening the box, Skinner picked up the thickest, juiciest looking firefly with a pair of small tongs, and handed it to Clancy, who quickly bit into the tail, gagged slightly, then swallowed the sour-bitter goo inside. He sucked down a long gulp of coffee to cleanse his palate, then wiped at his lips. "Gah, I think I'll stick to crickets and moths, thanks. So what to do about the Muntz boy? We both know if he went against a Simpson and disappeared, there's only one place he'd wind up."
"You don't think Mistress would kill a child, do you?"
"No. She's a mother, killing a kid would be too much for her to even consider. But Nelson Muntz isn't ever coming home, we both know that. Best case scenario? He ran away. Which we both know he didn't do."
"Uh-huh. And the worst case?"
"The Simpsons aren't the only monsters in town, Skinny-boy. Things have been getting weird out there in a bad way. Milhouse Van Houten, Doctor Marvin Monroe, Hans Moleman...people just disappearing without a trace. Nelson might just be another casualty of the weirdness that is our town."
Skinner stared out the window of his office. The grey Smarch sky roiled with grim clouds of rain. The rickety, half-hinged door of Groundskeeper Willie's shack swung in the bone-chilling air, slamming against the shack in stuttering rhythm. If he relaxed his senses, eased his mind, it seemed that the shack was laughing, shaking with malicious humour as it's door shook and juttered like a skeletal jaw. In his head, he heard the laughter in Willie's voice, mocking him, calling him names, and suddenly, he was glad the old Scotsman fell asleep in a drunken stupor and was incinerated by a small boiler explosion. That, at least, wrote off one suspect

"Jessica, what is that stuff on your face?"
Mrs. Krabappel had pulled Jessica out off to the side before class started, licking her thumb and rubbing the glossy crusts of jism from her forehead.
"It's acne cream. I had a bad outbreak overnight."
Edna raised a disbelieving eyebrow. She licked her thumb again, and stopped, the taste of the mystery glaze hitting her tongue. She rolled the flavour around her mouth, smacking her lips, then smiled, a distant and half-remembered warmth spreading throughout her body and settling in her long-neglected nethers. "Hmmm...right, okay then. Sorry about that. You go take your seat, sweetie."
Jessica returned to her seat next to Bart, smiling proudly that she had fooled her teacher.
Jessica hadn't fooled jackshit. If there was one thing Edna Krabappel knew, it was the taste of cum. She didn't know whose it was, but seeing as how she was staying with the Simpsons, and given how chummy she was with Bart, she could guess. She pictured the two of them, Jessica on her knees, Bart fucking the girls small mouth, stretching her lips out with his perversely large cock, jacking his thick, young load onto her face, then demanding his young sextoy to wear his cream to school. Edna let out a fluttering sigh, the sound of which made her realise that she was about to start class. She quickly composed herself, hoping that a wet spot hadn't formed on the front of her skirt, giving away her sudden arousal.

Lunch came eventually, and the kids congregated in the cafeteria. Bart and Jessica found a vacant table by the entrance, Lisa already seated and enjoying a spartan meal of dried-out celery sticks and milk. As Bart sat down with his tray of cardboard cafeteria pizza and orange juice, Lisa leaned across the table towards him, whispering. "What did Skinner want with you, Bart?"
"Hmph, he wanted to ask about Nelson. His mom's all worried that he didn't come home last night. Wiggum was there too."
"What did you tell them?"
"Lees, the truth: that I haven't seen Nelson since yesterday when he went out of class like a bitch."
Lisa broke off a piece of her wilted celery, not exactly savouring it. "Well, we shouldn't have to worry anyway; Skinner and Wiggum work for Mom."
Bart's mouth hung open, half-chewed pizza almost on display. "What?"
Lisa gave her brother a look. God, she loved him, but he could be dim sometimes. "Didn't you know? Mom enthralled them both. Years ago, really. Wiggum's been her bitch ever since we moved to Evergreen Terrace when you were little. Skinner, since you started school."
"What the fuck? You mean I've been getting detention all these years when Skinner works for us?"
"Well, to be fair, Bart, he works for Mom. And I don't even think he knows we're..." she looked around before lowering her voice to a soft whisper, "vampires."
"Lees, we don't have to use words to talk to each other. If you want to be all secretive and shit about the vampire thing, just use telepathy like a normal person."
"Yeah, but then we'd just be quietly staring at each other, not saying anything, and it'd look weird."
Bart shrugged, and the three continued their lunch. Lisa studied Jessica's face intently as the other girl ate, a wicked smirk on her face.
"So Jessica, has anyone said anything about your new makeup this morning?"
Jessica looked down, blushing. "Yes, Mistress. Mrs. Krabappel asked about it, but I told her it was acne cream."
"Ha!" Lisa's cackling laugh drew their table undue attention from the other students, but she paid them no mind. "And she bought that?"
"I'm not sure, Mistress. She seemed to, but then she had this smile on her face, like the one you get in the shower when you imagine the shampoo bottle is Master Bart's cock."
"Ah...okay, yeah, if anyone in this school is going to recognize a spunk facial mask, it's Edna Krabappel. She's probably had more than a few in her time."
Bart let out a suppressed burp, then smiled casually to Lisa.
"So Lees, did you want to sneak off back to the boiler room for a bit of fun?"
Lisa shook her head. "Boiler room's played out, Bart. If I'm going to get my eggs scrambled at school, I think we should do it somewhere more...dangerous."
"Uh-oh. And just what did you have in mind?"
Lisa's smile made Bart regret asking that question.

Edna Krabappel was sitting at her desk, a dry ham sandwich and a can of cream soda on her desk, a cupcake in her drawer for dessert. Just as she was about to take a bite into her lunch, the classroom door opened, and Lisa Simpson stepped in, dragging Bart behind her, Jessica Lovejoy following almost like a puppy. Edna put her sandwich down, puzzled by the students' intrusion.
"Lisa? Why aren't you in the cafeteria?"
Jessica closed and locked the door, while Lisa hopped up onto Edna's desk, throwing a stack of papers to the floor carelessly.
"Lisa!" Edna hadn't had Lisa as a student yet - that was still at least two years away, if she still remained at Springfield Elementary by then - but from what she had heard from the other teachers, she was a model student. Outbursts like this simply weren't like her.
Lisa grinned at Edna, her eyes seeming to burn dull red. Edna couldn't stop looking at the oddly swollen, pale girl, who by now was hiking her red dress up her waist, Bart rubbing her upper thighs in a way that made Edna very uncomfortable.
"Have a seat, Mrs. Krabappel. You're about to get a show to go with your lunch."
Edna stood up in shock. "Lisa, I demand to know-" A single glare from both Simpson children froze her mid sentence, her words caught in her throat like a fly in amber. She wanted to claw at her throat, as if trying to dig her words out, but her hands wouldn't move. Her whole body seemed petrified, and without meaning to, she slumped back into her chair. Lisa smirked, opening her legs wide enough for Bart to fit his head in between them.
"Now now, why the anxious look, Edna? You're in for a real treat, you know. Jessica, how many people have actually watched Bart and me fuck?"
Edna's eyes shot to Jessica, who was sitting calmly at her desk, as if this was all so very normal.
"Hmm...five, Mistress. There's me, your parents, and...Rod and Todd Flanders."
"Ooh, a very exclusive club indeed then." Lisa moaned, and raised her butt off the desk, pressing her pelvis against Bart's face. Edna looked silently to the clock, almost hoping that it would save her, that lunch would end and the students would come and she'd be safe and free and the world would make sense again.
Lisa saw this desperate panic in the teacher's eyes.
"You don't need to worry about us being interrupted, Edna. The rest of the school is currently enjoying their lunch. We may have tampered with their innate sense of time, and had Principal Skinner disable the bell so it won't ring for afternoon classes, but they'll never notice. As far as they're all concerned, they've just sat down to eat. And they'll always only have just sat down to eat, until the bell rings, which won't happen until we say it does."
As she said all this, she wriggled herself against Bart's head. Wet slurping sounds came from between her legs, and Edna had some inkling of what was going on down there. She looked back to Jessica, pleading with her eyes.
"She won't help you. She's with us. Why don't you take a seat up front here, so you can get a good look at what Bart is doing?"
Edna shook, wanting to rise up to her feet and throw open the door and run screaming from the room. The cold cruelty in Lisa's voice unnerved her more than Bart's inappropriate behaviour with his own sister. She had to escape. She wanted to escape.
So why did her body stand up, move around her desk, and plant her mature ass at Martin Prince's desk, obeying Lisa's sick command like a good little girl?
Edna could see Bart's tongue gliding along the outer folds of Lisa's genitals, tracing just outside her mound. Edna squirmed at the sight, uneasy but aroused. Lisa smiled, running her hands through Bart's hair as he serviced her.
"He's so good at this, Edna. My beautiful brother eats pussy almost as well as he fucks it. Bart, honey, show your dear teacher what you've got, won't you?"
Bart looked up at Lisa, his mouth clamped over her bare slit.
Lees, what's the plan here? Why are we doing this to Mrs. K? She's always been kinda cool.
Lisa smirked, pulling Bart to his feet.
Because I can, sweetie. I'm dead now. All those mean little thoughts I buried deep, all those times I told myself to be a good girl, I don't have to do that anymore. I can be a bitch now if I want to, and right now, I feel like being a bitch to a teacher.
"But why my teacher?" Bart said as he unhitched himself from his sister's cunny.
Because I'm not about to risk my academic record by compelling my teacher. I'm evil, not stupid. Now, I can give her permanent orders, right? Like, I can compel her to remember this happened, but to never mention it or reveal it to anyone, ever, right?
Bart nodded, mashing his face back into Lisa's lap, his tongue probing into her slit.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Lisa groaned, her hands roaming up her body, bunching her dress up over her round, swollen tummy. Edna's eyes bulged wide at the sight of the girl's belly button, pushed outward obscenely. Lisa hummed with pleasure as she showed off her pregnant belly to the older woman.
"Do you see this, Edna? You know what it is, right? What did Seymour tell the faculty? That poor Lisa Simpson was sick, some sort of illness was making her tummy swell up?"
Robotically, Edna nodded. She fidgeted uncomfortably on the desk, a trickle of fluid soaking into her panties as she watched Bart slather Lisa's cunt in saliva.
"But you know the truth, don't you? Go on, tell us all what this tummy really means."
Edna croaked out in a panic, her voice harsh and hoarse. "Pr-it--it means y-you're pr-pregnant."
Lisa smiled, and suddenly Edna shivered, imagining herself sitting across from a shark. "That's right. Bart here shoved his big, fat cock into my tight, wet cunny, and fucked me until he shot all his hot, thick, babymaking cum into my young, fertile tummy." She made certain to punctuate her words with pure liquid lust, her voice oozing with sex.
Edna groaned, and Lisa looked at the older woman, stunned, before breaking out into wicked laughter.
"Oh my, did Teacher like hearing about how her student knocked his own sister up? My, I do believe Edna K is a huge fucking pervert! Are you, Edna K? Are you a huge fucking pervert?"
Edna fought the tears only briefly, before they ran freely down her cheeks. She tried to shake her head - she wasn't a pervert! She wasn't! - but her head wouldn't obey her mind. Unbidden, flashes of fantasies and imaginings crossed her mind, times when she played with herself under her desk while her students silently read, the lonely nights where she imagined some of her pupils pinning her down and abusing her until she couldn't take anymore. Her secret desires had killed her relationship with Seymour, but she couldn't admit that to herself.
Lisa turned Bart around, and tugged at his shorts. "Show her, Bart. Show her how you fucked a baby into your little sisters poor, defenseless womb."
Bart wasn't a cruel type of vampire, not nearly as cruel as Lisa, at least. He mostly thought with his dick, and his dick was hard and hungry for some fun, so down went the shorts, up went his cock, and out bulged Edna's eyes. She squirted more than a little at the sight. Bart was hung for his age, and Edna squirmed uncomfortably on the desk, clearly trying to ease the burning hunger in her cunt. Lisa reached around her brother's waist, took his shaft in hand, and slowly began stroking it, eyes locked on Edna's.
"This is what you like, isn't it Edna? You like seeing young boys' cocks, don't you, you nasty little slut."
Edna was too...scared? Aroused? Both? - to respond. Lisa didn't like that. Her voice went low and dark.
"I said, you fucking like to watch boys and their cocks, don't you Edna? Fucking answer me."
The air of menace bleeding off of Lisa cowed Edna, and she nodded quickly, frightfully. "Y-yes! I--I like young boys! Oh fuck, fuck, help me, I do!"
"Have you fucked any of the boys you teach?"
Edna shook her head.
"Why not?"
She swallowed. Edna had hidden this part of herself from everyone for her entire life. Nobody knew what she really was, and yet this eight-year-old girl, pregnant with her own brother's child, was pulling secrets out of her like threads from a quilt, unravelling her entire existence.
"Because if I had to pick which kid was uglier out of a class that includes Nelson, Milhouse and Martin Prince, I'd shoot myself in the head just to avoid having to picture their faces ever again."
Lisa laughed at this one. Not a cruel laughter, but one of mirth. She legitimately found Edna's comment to be funny.
"Yeah, your class is a dog party. But what about Bart? Certainly he's not as ugly as the other boys."
Bart took offence to that. "Hey! That's still saying I'm ugly, Lees!"
Lisa kissed her brother's cheek. Edna was transfixed on the pearl of precum forming along Bart's knob, her lips suddenly parched and cracked with thirst. "Relax, honey, you know I still think you're fucking beautiful." She returned her attention to the antsy woman across from her. "Well Teach, what about it? You ever think of going full Mary Kay Letourneau with my Bart?"
Again, she shook her head. "It's too risky. He wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. I'd lose my job, wind up in prison."
Lisa spotted the slick, oily precum collecting on Bart's member, and swept her hand along his shaft, collecting the gooey goodness. "True, he would spoil all the fun. But don't you think it'd be worth it, just to lie in your prison bunk, petting your bunny to memories of this magnificent cock."
She held her cummy hand out to Edna, who stared for a second, then leaned down to lick it clean. As soon as her tongue got close to the sweet precum-coated digits, Lisa pulled it away, licking it off herself, a wicked smile plastered on her face.
"Instead, you get to come to this job day-after-day, surrounded by boys you wouldn't fuck with a pig's pussy, mere feet away from the only fuckable one but unable to do anything about it. And to top it all off, here he is now, bare and erect and leaking his juices right in front of you, and all you can do is watch him plunge that monster of a meat sword into someone else's gully. It sucks so much to be you, doesn't it, Edna?"
Edna sobbed, her body wracked with pathetic heaves as she broke down. "P-please, Lisa."
Lisa arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Are you begging me for something, Edna?" Bart turned back around, and Lisa pushed his cock against her pussy, humming as he sank back into her pregnant twat. "Speak up, Teach, I can't hear you over the sounds of my brother slowly filling my wet, pregnant cunt."
As Lisa arched herself against her brother, seething as he filled her, hiccupping as his belly slapped against hers, Edna trembled, trying to maintain her sanity.
"Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone about this, just...just please..."
Lisa's eyes were wild as Bart fucked her. Edna thought her teeth looked wolfish and feral, razor sharp and menacing, and she swallowed out of fear.
"No, Edna, that's not what you were going to say. Tell the truth. What did you really want to ask me?"
Lisa was enjoying this, torturing this teacher, a figure she would have never considered tormenting when she was alive.
Edna crumbled. She let out a small wail, and broke down bawling. "Please let me move. Whatever you did to paralyse me, please let me move, please."
"Hmm, and what would you do if you could move again, Edna K.?"
Edna's skin prickled with humiliation. This girl had wormed Edna's most shameful secret out of her without even trying, and she was enjoying every second of this.
"I-I'd..." it was pointless to resist, Lisa was already in her head somehow. Just sitting there in her mind, like a grim black bird casting a shadow upon everything that Edna ever tried to keep hidden. All she needed to do to complete the picture was to croak out a "Nevermore," in her best corvid impression. "I'd fist my ass until I cum my fucking pedo brains out all over this fucking desk while your stud brother fucks you like the animal he is."
This confession made Lisa gasp as her cunt slammed hard around Bart's pistoning shaft, miniature orgasms racking her little body. "Mmm, yes, I think I'd like to see that. Alright, Teach, let's see you fist-fuck that ass of yours."
It took Edna a few seconds to register Lisa's words. Slowly, she slid off Martin's desk, a snail-trail of pussy-jelly smeared across the top. She robotically slipped her skirt down, kicking it off. Underneath, she wore cute panties about thirty years too young and thirty-five years too small for her mature frame, with cute little cartoon kitty-cats printed on the cotton material. Lisa bit her lip to stop from laughing at the sight of the middle-aged woman wearing schoolgirl panties that didn't even fit her massive ass. Edna peeled the panties down, reached back between her huge asscheeks, and forced her hand inside as if it were nothing.
"Mmf! Oh fuck yes! It feels so good to fuck my ass! Look at me, Bart! Look at your whore of a teacher when she fist-fucks her fat slutty ass!"
Bart was too engrossed in watching his sister's face as she melted from one orgasm to the next to pay any mind to Edna Krabappel's mental breakdown, ignoring his teacher's pleas that he watch her debase and defile herself.
"Mm, Bart, get that cock good and deep up in me. Paint my womb with your hot cum again, baby!"
Bart grunted like a pig as he fucked Lisa. Edna, whining to get his attention, began bouncing her ass up and down, thrusting her hand into her hole up to the wrist.
"Bart! Bart, look at how far I can push my hand into my ass! Ffffuck, please look at me, Bart!"
Lisa licked at Bart's neck, wiggling her body to sink him deeper into herself. "Baaaart, look at her. Watch that old whore fuck her ass with her whole fucking fist. She looks so fucking pathetic, stuffing her asshole with her whole fucking hand. Look at this sick pedo slut teacher!"
Something in Bart snapped, a cold detachment he hadn't been aware of, a sick, serpentine cruelty newly awakened by his sister's malicious prodding. He turned his head to see Mrs. Krabappel, bent over Martin's desk, twerking her fat ass up and down as she contorted her body so that her left arm was up her own ass up to the wrist. Something about the whole scene struck Bart as grotesquely funny, and without meaning to, he let out a cold, harsh laugh. Edna shivered at the sound of Bart's voice, her knees buckling, her sphincter spasming hard around her invading hand until it clamped down hard, an orgasm shaking through her. With a final hissing wail, Edna slumped over onto the desk, her cunt pulsing, squirting onto the floor, drenching the tiles with her juices. The scent of her orgasm triggered Bart and Lisa, the two siblings rutting into one another faster and faster, until Bart stiffened up against Lisa, his balls pumping a thick deluge of hot, creamy seed into her pussy.
After a few minutes of savouring the sensation of having her womb flooded again, Lisa pushed Bart off of her, and sat up with a grunt, her twat leaking a stream of incestuous seed as she hopped to her feet. Grabbing Edna by the hair, Lisa pulled her into a sitting position, and held the older woman's face just inches from her puffy, reddened slit, cum oozing out of her folds.
"Look at how much cum he put in me, Mrs. Krabappel. I bet you'd like a taste of Bart's hot, gooey cum, wouldn't you?"
Edna opened her mouth, stretching her tongue out to catch a dollop of cream as it dripped from Lisa's fucked out cunt. "Please...please...I need it. I need him."
"Hmm, so you think you deserve to taste my Bart's cum? You think an ass-fisting pedo-slut like you is even worthy of smelling my dirty, cum-filled hole?"
Edna nodded as much as she could with her head held in place by this strangely strong girl. The raw musk coming up from Lisa's pussy, mixed with the heady smell of Bart's cum, was driving her feral with lust. "Yes, please! I'll do anything! I'll lick your pussy, I'll...I'll drink your pee, just let me taste him, please!"
Lisa wrinkled her nose in disgust, roughly releasing Edna's hair from her grasp. "Ugh. That's just sad, Edna. Jessica honey, come here."
Jessica had been quietly watching her masters fuck, silently and slowly frigging her own pussy through her panties during the entire show. She rose from her desk, walked over to the front of the class, her shoes stepping in the puddle of Mrs. Krabappel's pussy-squirt, and stood dutifully before her Mistress, her hands folded behind her back. "Yes, Mistress."
Lisa slapped Edna's ass roughly. "Get up, you sick slut. You want to taste Bart's cum so fucking badly? Jessica's wearing a thick layer of it on her face. Lick it off, because that's as close as you're getting today."
Edna, eyes fogged, mind broken, grabbed Jessica's face with both hands, and ran her tongue over the girl's cheeks. Jessica winced, her teacher's left hand smelling very much like asshole, and her breath smelling very much like whiskey, but endured Edna's dog-like lapping of the dried, crusty sheen of Bart's semen coating her skin. Edna made sure to suck the cum off Jessica's chin and forehead, and even sucked the crusted load out of her hair, until she was completely licked clean off Bart's cocksnot.
"Good girl, Edna. I hope it wasn't too stale, she's been wearing it since this morning. Jessica, you go wash up in the girl's room, I'm sure you don't want your face smelling like saliva all day."
Jessica nodded, unlocked the classroom door, and disappeared down the hall. Edna staggered to her feet, clumsily pulling her skirt back on. "I...I ...oh fuck, what have I done? My whole career...oh shit."
"Relax, Edna, your career is safe. We're not going to snitch on you. Hell, I think we all enjoyed that little display of...patheticness."
Lisa straightened out her dress, while Bart cleaned his cock off with a box of tissues on Edna's desk, stuffing the used tissues into the teacher's purse with a wicked smirk.
"So here's the deal, Mrs. Krabappel. If you want more of that, there are some things you're going to need to do for us."
Edna swallowed nervously. "So you're going to blackmail me?"
"Don't be stupid, you fucking whore. We're setting the tone for our transactional arrangement. You want more of what you had today, you'll play ball. And I think you do want more, don't you?"
Edna fought to hold back the new wave of tears. She didn't know how much more of this she could take before her mind completely broke down. "Y-yes. God help me, I want more."
"Good. Now, from now on, you will always mark Bart as present, even when he's not. He'll get that perfect attendance if it kills you. Second, he maintains a straight..." Lisa thought for a second. The next condition had to be plausible. "Let's say, a solid C-average, with a few B-minuses and even the odd A tossed in for variety."
"...Okay, that's fine."
"And no more homework. All that time wasted pouring over textbooks is time he could spend filling my cunt and ass with his load. If you agree to these conditions, then nobody will ever find out what a filthy pedo-whore you really are, and we may even arrange for you to see more of Bart's amazing cock."
Edna stared at the evil little girl, a stream of cum running down her leg. She could hear the moist plop as Lisa flexed her pussy muscles, pushing Bart's load out so that more would drip down her thighs. Lisa knew full well what she was doing, leaving a trail of cum behind her as she crossed the room to open the door.
"You don't need to nod or say anything, Edna. I know you'll do the right thing. Otherwise, someone might learn about your shameful little secret. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"
Edna shook her head. Lisa smiled darkly, and was gone down the hall. Bart sat on the edge of Edna's desk, smirking at his teacher.
"Well, she certainly is a bossy one, isn't she?"
"B-Bart, I-"
Bart put a finger to his lips. "No, you shut up. Lisa thinks you're her toy, that she has you by the short hairs, but that's only because I like watching her flex her bossy-mom muscles. Truth is, I'm the top of this totem pole, Edna. And I have some conditions of my own."
Mrs. Krabappel took a deep breath. How much worse could this get for her? "Your sister already ensured you'd get perfect attendance and no homework. What more could you possibly want?"
There was an odd blur of motion, the door closed with a click and a rush of wind rustled Edna's hair. She could have sworn that for a second, a fraction of a second, Bart had moved to the door and back to the desk, but surely that couldn't be possible. He sat there on her desk, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, his cock dangling out of his shorts, slick and stained with Lisa's juices and a smear of his own seed.
"I want Bart Junior here to get a good bath. Get down here and clean my cock, Mrs. Krabappel. I know you want that more than anything else."
Finally Edna smiled. Her cunt pulsed and throbbed at the idea of sucking Bart's cock, and she eagerly sank to her knees, her every sick, secret dream coming true in this one moment.

Maggie curled against her stuffed elephant toy in her crib, Marge tugging her blanket over the slumbering toddler. Marge took a second to admire her youngest child, smiling proudly as the little girl fussed in her sleep before settling down. With a soft sigh, Marge walked out into the hall, reached up for the pull cord that allowed access to the attic, and pulled it down, the hidden staircase sliding down. She ascended the stairs into the dusty, shadow-draped attic, navigating around age-battered cardboard boxes full of mementos and racks of long-out-of-fashion clothes. Marge weaved through the aisles of old boxes, towards an oblong-shaped object nestled beneath a folded white sheet. Pulling the sheet aside revealed an ornate cassone made of Spanish olivewood. The formerly forest-green stain of the wood had worn through the edges of the cassone, an outline of faded white showing through. Marge sighed wistfully, wiping away at her eye. On the lid of the aged wooden chest was an inscription, faded with age, but still perfectly readable in her memory. It had read, once upon a time, "Un agasallo, feito con cariño, e adicado á miña filla Margarita; sempre a miña bolboreta, sempre a miña luz guía, que todos os teus soños residan dentro.," "A gift, made with love, dedicated to my daughter Margarita; always my butterfly, always my guiding light, may all your dreams reside within." Construction had started on the chest when she was only three, back in 1527, after Marge - Margarita back then - had gotten over a case of Scarlet fever. Vitor-Hernan de Lara had commissioned the cassone to celebrate his daughter's recovery, intending it to be her wedding chest. Her father would be long dead by the time Margarita met her Swedish warrior-priest in the early 1820's. For that matter, Margarita herself was long dead by the time she finally wed.
Marge shook her head, dispelling the ghosts of her nostalgia. Blowing the thin patina of dust off the chest, Marge slowly lifted the lid open, the ancient iron hinges creaking and stuttering, unwilling to work after being neglected for so long. Inside the cassone lay her father's bagpipes, a book of pressed flowers made by her mother, an old toy lamb given to her by her governess, and underneath them all, preserved for ages, was her black confirmation gown. Lifting the gown out of the chest, Marge unfurled it, admiring the delicate lace, the soft linen of the cloth. She mashed it against her face, inhaling deeply, ignoring the must of time and picking up the faint traces of lavender and incense lingering in the material.
This would be a perfect fit for Lisa, she thought.

On the bus ride home, Bart, Lisa and Jessica had retreated to the very last seat at the back. Lisa had planted herself on Bart's lap, his stiff cock stuffed into her ass, every jostle, bump and pothole making her bounce on his shaft, her hand covering her mouth to muffle her grunts and moans of pleasure.
"You're such a fucking slut, Lisa." Bart's hot breath blew in Lisa's ears as he hissed at her softly. "I already fucked you twice today and you still can't get enough."
Lisa whimpered, hoping that Otto's window-rattling heavy metal music would drown out her sounds, as she humped herself down onto her brother's cock. Once again, Jessica blocked for her Masters, sitting next to them, obstructing anyone's view with her backpack. The other kids were too busy chatting away or goofing off to notice the siblings in the back sitting too close to one another. Lisa leaned back against Bart, whispering in his ear against the racket coming from the front of the bus, "I can't help it, Bart, I love being stuffed full of you. I need you inside me all the fucking time."
"And what are you going to do when we have this little one to deal with?" His hands roamed over her swollen, pregnant belly.
"Mm, five minutes after I have this one, I'm back on your cock making the next one. We're gonna live forever, Bart, and I want every second of my eternity to be spent fucking pregnant."
With a grunt of effort, Lisa spun her body around so that she was facing Bart, and sank into a warm, enveloping kiss, her tongue wrestling with his. His eyes darted to the front of the bus, worried that they might have been seen. Lisa smiled, baring her fangs to her brother. 'Don't worry about them, baby. They don't matter. Hell, I'm half-inclined to just...eat most of them. Think anyone would notice that?"
"Lisa, you wouldn't..."
"No, I probably wouldn't." She seemed resigned, or disappointed in her submission. "Mom would be mad, sure, but also, I don't think any of them would taste very good. We're not dealing with the creme de la creme of society here, are we?"
A naughty little idea flashed across her eyes. "Oh! Speaking of cream...." She pulled herself into Bart, whispering into his ear. "Pull my dress down, baby. I need you to drain my tits now."
Bart cocked an eyebrow, uncertain of his sister's sanity at this particular moment, but her impish smile convinced him, and with a quick tug of her red dress, he exposed her dark, puffy nipples. He gently squeezed Lisa's soft, round tit, massaging a trickle of thin milk to run over his fingers. Lisa cooed as her brother slowly, torturously milked her, licking the white fluid from her stiff, leaking nipples before clamping his lips onto her breast and sucking greedily. Lisa ground her ass against his cock, her pussy juices pooling in his lap as she railed herself against him.
Jessica leaned in towards the rutting siblings next to her. "Masters, our stop is coming up."
Lisa grunted in annoyance, and looked out the bus window. Sure enough, the pink siding of 742 Evergreen Terrace was coming into sight. With a few more hard slams of her ass against Bart's invading pipe, Lisa pulled herself off of her brother, grabbing her backpack and stomping down the aisle of the bus as it came to a halt, muttering under her breath about the universe conspiring to "jam her clam," not even bothering to pull her dress back up. Muttering voices from the other kids on the bus only served to further agitate her, and just as Otto threw open the door, Bart and Jessica rushing to catch up with her, Lisa turned back towards the other passengers, and scowled, "Yeah, that's right, you all saw Lisa Simpson's tits! Consider this moment the high point in your sad, pathetic fucking lives, you losers! It's all downhill for all of you from here!"
Lisa stormed off the bus, still muttering, and Bart jumped off the steps onto the sidewalk, laughing raucously as the bus pulled away.
"Holy shit, Lisa, thank you for that. I was almost worried that people would see the wet spot on my shorts and think I pissed myself, but nobody's even going to remember I was on that bus!"
Lisa grumbled a bit, stewing, then pulled Bart to herself, kissing him hard. She pulled away, pouting, then bursting into laughter. "Oh fuck, I didn't really show the whole bus my boobs, did I?"
Bart nodded, "Yeah, congratulations Lees, today you made Ralph Wiggum a man."
The two siblings stood in front of their house for a few seconds, laughing loudly, Lisa's dress still pulled down, exposing her breasts, when Jessica opened the door for her beloved Masters. Lisa and Bart walked into the house, Lisa groping Bart's cock through his shorts, massaging the darkened stain left by her pussy oil. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lisa was on her knees, mashing her face into Bart's crotch, running her tongue along the front of her shorts. She pulled Jessica close by, wrapping her arm around the thrall's waist, massaging the girl's ass as she made out with her brother's bulge.
Just as she was about to dig into Bart's cock, Marge poked her head out of the dining room doorway, murdering the mood most horrifically.
"Hey, before you kids go messing up your clothes, we're having another special dinner at the Flanderses, so go get changed."
Lisa growled her displeasure. "Seriously? God-fucking-dammit, can't a girl just get some dick in this place?"
Marge murmured sternly. "Hrmmm, Lisa, you've been getting dick all day; I can tell, because you smell like a whorehouse. Now go get changed, there's a special dress I laid out on your bed for you to wear, go put it on."
Lisa rose to her feet, and stomped lightly in a mild tantrum. "Just how do you know what a whorehouse smells like, Mom?"
"Lisa, sweetie, your mother is 496 years old. In my life, I've sailed with pirates, killed one emperor and fucked two more, and beat more than one Pope in a footrace. To say that I have more experiences than you can imagine would be greatly underselling the truth of that statement. Now go, get changed, the Countess has spoken."
Lisa opened her mouth to protest, but the cold glare from her mother silenced her. She trudged up the stairs, muttering to herself. Jessica and Bart started up after her, only for Marge's voice to stop them both.
"Jessica, there's a dress up there for you too, sweetie. But Bart, I want you to go next door right now. Your father has your change of clothes. No arguments, just go and do what he says, alright?"
Bart didn't even try to protest. He knew better. Mom, he could sass-talk to. His mare, he could defy. But the Countess? Her word was inviolate law. So Bart stepped off the stairs, slipped out the front door, and headed to the Flanderses' house.

Lisa tried very hard not to slam her bedroom door when she closed it. She really did. But her mood was too dark to care, and she might have thrown the door closed just a little too hard. She winced when it closed with a bang, meekly called out, "Sorry! I didn't mean to do that!" and turned to her bed. Spread out on the cover sheet was a beautiful, black dress. She picked it up, marvelling at the material. It smelled of age and...something else, something sweet and unfamiliar. The collar was high and flared out like the tailfin of some great fish, the sleeves wide and open like the blossoms of an exotic lily. Lisa was so enamoured with the dress that she didn't notice Marge and Jessica slipping into the room. Marge pointed Jessica towards a pure white dress draped over Lisa's desk chair, and smiled as Lisa picked up and admired her new dress.
"I wore that at my confirmation, back in 1535."
Lisa spun around. "Mom, it's beautiful! But...confirmation? We aren't Catholic."
"Sweetie, I'm Galician. That's in Northern Spain. Everybody was either Catholic, or faking it so the Church didn't murder them."
Holding the dress up, taking in the cut of the fabric, imagining how it would drape over her body, Lisa pressed her face into it, inhaling deeply. "How does it smell so good if it's so old? Mothballs?"
"Mmf, no. Mothballs are good for a few years, then they sublimate into harmful chemicals that damage the material. I know a few tricks to maintain clothing for long periods of time. It's pretty much the only real magic I know."
"Well I love it. What's the special occasion?"
Marge only smiled, and turned to leave, letting the girls get dressed.
Jessica saw Lisa fawning over the black dress, and stepped away from hers. "Would you like me to help you, Mistress?" Lisa snapped to face Jessica, suddenly reminded that her thrall existed. Her smile was bright and almost giddy. "Yes, please."
:Lisa leaned against the bed, peeling her dress off over her head. Jessica unfurled the black dress, and turned it over, seeing that it was closed up by ribbons and eye-and-hooks. Tugging on the ribbons, Jessica undid the dress, and helped Lisa step into it, admiring her Mistress' nude body before covering it up.
"Master Bart really stretched your asshole, Mistress."
Lisa wiggled her ass, slapping and pulling her cheeks open to reveal her winking pink hole. "Mmm, yes he did." Without warning, Jessica sank to her knees, buried her face in Lisa's ass, and licked at her gaping hole, sending an electric shiver up her Mistress' spine. Lisa humped back against her thrall's face, gasping, moaning, squeezing her anal muscles against Jessica's tongue. Just as Lisa could feel an orgasm boiling deep in her core, Jessica pulled away, denying her Mistress the sweet relief she so needed. Lisa turned to her thrall curtly; "Why did you stop? I was almost there."
Jessica licked her lips, eyes downcast. "I only licked you because I saw a trace of Master's cum on your asshole, Mistress. I didn't think the Countess would want your dress to be soiled."
"Bullshit, you were eating my ass out because you wanted to eat my ass, you fucking slut!"
A coquettish smile crossed Jessica's lips, her hooded eyes flashing her old familiar deviousness. "Hmm....and I wanted to eat out your ass, yes."
Lisa glowered at Jessica, upset that, once again, her nut had been denied, and pulled the raven-haired girl to herself, her hand digging into her thrall's soft ass, their lips clamped together, tongues entwined, threads of crystal clear saliva running down their chins. The girls spent long, eternal seconds lost in each other's kiss, hands roaming southward towards their mutual promised lands, when three quick raps on the door pulled the plug on their passion.
"Girls," Marge's voice was a mix of concern and annoyance; her patience was wearing thin, but she didn't want to let it affect her mood. "Are you almost done? Lisa, we still have hair and makeup to see to, so hurry up."
Hair and makeup? Lisa thought. Just what is happening at the Flanderses tonight?
"Right, sorry Mom." Lisa sighed in exasperation, while Jessica pulled the black dress over her Mistress' shoulders, slotting the hooks into the small steel eyelets and lacing up the ribbons. Lisa turned around, and Jessica smiled warmly. "Mistress, you...you look beautiful." Lisa returned a smile, and kissed Jessica on the cheek. "I'll go see about the hair and makeup thing while you put your dress on, Jess."
Jessica hummed to herself as Lisa left the room, before turning to her own dress and slipping out of her school clothes.

Bart tugged at the collar of the wine-coloured suit his father had squeezed him into, trying to gain some purchase of comfort for his neck.
"Homer, I don't mean to question your fashion choices, but couldn't you maybe have gotten a suit off a corpse that was at least the same size as me? Who wore this thing last, a ventriloquist's dummy?"
Homer was straightening his own tie in the bathroom mirror of the Flanderses' house, tongue sticking out as he adjusted the black bow on his collar.
"Boy, I'll have you know I bought that suit from the same place I buy all your clothes."
"That drunken hobo that lives under the bridge?"
"Hey, he's not drunk, he's on meth!"
Homer knelt before his son, and loosened the collar as well as he could, buying the boy a few inches of breathing space. "Better?"
Bart sighed, "Yeah, much. Thanks. Weird how that bugged me even though I don't need to breathe anymore." He adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket, pulling them down so they at least appeared less ill-fitting. "Hey Dad, what is all this about? Why are we at the Flanderses again, and why the monkeysuits?"
Homer only smiled. "Boy, your mother has something planned for tonight, and she'd kill me if I spoiled her surprise. And I mean, she'd fucking kill me. She'd reach into my chest, pull out my spine, and wear it like a new necklace. I've seen her do it, I live in constant fear of her."
Opening the door, Homer pushed Bart out into the hall, following after him. "Now, let's get downstairs; your mother and sister should be here soon, assuming they aren't intentionally making us wait just to drive us crazy like they usually do."

Marge locked up the house behind her as she left, Jessica and Lisa waiting patiently on the sidewalk, both of them spinning around to make their respective dresses flare. Marge smiled when she saw the girls just spinning until they were dizzy.
She might be undead, pregnant, and have the mouth of a sailor, Marge thought, but I guess inside, she's still just a little girl.
"Alright, girls, let's get going." Marge stepped off the front stoop, leading Jessica and Lisa next door. It was Ned who answered the door when Marge knocked, taking their coats. Ned bowed and scraped before the Simpson women, kissing Marge's hand in a show of supplication. "Mistresses, you honour our home once again with your presence."
Lisa tried to run ahead into the house, only for her mother to plant a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She looked up at her mother, who was busy talking to Mr. Flanders, her fingers holding Lisa fast to the spot.
"So how have things been, with you and the family? Adapting well to your new situation?"
"Oh yes, Mistress. We've already burned those hideous crosses and Maude and the boys have been using that despicable book for toilet paper. I can't believe we wasted all those years following a false god, when true power was just next door!"
Marge smiled, fangs on full display, her eyes now glowing red. "Good, good. You serve us well, Ned. Now, is everything ready for tonight?"
Ned smiled, his eyes seeming half-mad. Lisa was a bit uneasy with how widely he grinned, and how energetic he seemed.
"Oh yes, Mistress. The centrepiece wasn't exactly what you'd call 'cooperative,' but we were able to cajole it into the house. Um...we had to drug it, though, and rather heavily. Will that be an issue?"
Marge shook her head. "It shouldn't be." She placed her hand along Ned's cheek, and he seemed to melt into her caress. Lisa noticed a wet spot forming on the front of his trousers, the smell of raw semen filling her nostrils. "Well, if everything's in place, let us begin, shall we? You may go and tell the others to start, Ned."
Ned nodded, and slinked away towards the rumpus room downstairs. Marge spun Lisa around, kneeling down to her level.
"Mom, what's going on?"
Marge only smiled proudly. "It's a big night, sweetie. You mentioned something just last night, and after talking it over with your father, and Mr. Flanders, we've decided to set this all up for you and Bart."
"Set *what* up?"
Marge opened her mouth to speak, stopped mid-breath, and held up a single finger, as if waiting for something. After a few seconds, Lisa heard it, the music. It was somewhat muffled, distant and seeming to come from beneath her feet. Someone somewhere was playing a guitar, and rather masterfully from the sound of it, and being the music aficionado she was, it took Lisa only four bars to recognize Pachelbel's Canon in D.
Something was very odd here.
"Mom?"
Marge's grip on Lisa's shoulder relaxed, and she took her daughter by the hand, leading her downstairs towards the rumpus room. "You know, Lisa, my parents weren't there when my night came. They died ages before. I had always hoped I'd be able to stand by your side when it came for you, I just didn't think it would be quite so soon."
As the girls rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the guitar music louder and clearer, Lisa's eyes went wide. The Flanderses were seated in a row of folding chairs, along with Marge's sisters and mother, Grampa Simpon, and...Principal Skinner, Chief Wiggum, and Doctor Hibbard?
Lisa looked over to Maude Flanders, seated off to the side away from her family, her fingers deftly strumming the strings of a beautiful Western-style guitar. And at the end of the row of chairs stood Bart in a hideous wine-coloured suit, standing in front of a podium, anxiously watching Lisa from across the room.
Somewhere, a toilet flushed, and Homer appeared from a side room, drying his hands on a cloth that he then tossed onto the nearby pool table.
He stood behind the podium, head held high, a proud smile on his face.
Maude looked up from her playing, and, seeing Lisa, stopped. She moved her fingers along the strings, and the song changed to something much more recognizable.
The Wedding March.
"Mooom?" Lisa almost felt her heart race, ignoring that the only heartbeat she even had was the one in her belly.
"It's alright, sweetie. You mentioned you wanted this last night. Your father is an ordained priest in the Church of Sweden, so it'll be official, even if it won't be legal."
"Since when has Dad been a Swedish priest??"
"Ever since he took his vows in Malmo. Eighteen-thirty-four, I think it was."
Marge took Lisa's hand in her own, andlead her towards Bart, who looked more nervous than she had ever seen him before. "Now, enough questions; your brother is waiting for his bride-to-be."
Lisa's feet moved on their own. She found that she couldn't have stopped them from taking the next step forward even if she had wanted to, which, blissfully, she did not. Bart looked so handsome in his hideous, ill-fitted, gawdawful wine-coloured suit and black bow tie, his nervous confusion making her pussy twitch and weep in anticipation. As she stood in the spot next to her immaculate brother, her eyes fixed on him, Homer began speaking. Only, his tone was deeper, sterner, somehow colder, Lisa didn't really know how or why, she was too busy looking at her brother and imagining herself tearing off that ugly fucking suit and riding him until the weekend.
"Beloved gathered, here we stand, united in joy as-"
Lisa tuned out Homer's droning, booming voice, staring nervously at her feet. Why was she so skittish? She had paraded around this very house naked. She had fucked her own brother in front of his teacher just today. But right now, in her fancy-ass Morticia Addams dress, with her father - who was somehow a Swedish priest, she guessed? - Lisa felt hot and itchy and more than a little queasy in all the worst ways. But something about this moment, the soaring joy, the crushing anxiety, the burning want, made her dead, still heart skip. Not helping matters were the quick but vivid images of Bart leading her upstairs, hurling her onto the Flanderses master bed, and fucking her in every hole, every position, until she was her former gibbering, cock mad thrall self, glistening with sweat and sex, her husband claiming her in every way he could. She glanced over to Bart, who was smirking at her, an obvious tent forming in his trousers.
Like what you see, Lees?
He pursed his lips, giving his sister an air-kiss and discretely pushing his hips forward. Lisa struggled to contain the urge to throw herself onto the floor, spread her legs wide, and beg him to fuck her brains out again.
Asshole. You know I'm still aching for a fuck, Bart. Don't go teasing me with that mind-movie shit.
"So do you, Bartholomew Jojo Simpson, under the eyes of servant and mistress, do hereby swear to take this soul as your wedded and bonded wife, through war and peace, through wealth and want, as long as life runs through your veins?"
"I do."
Bart's words snapped Lisa back to reality, away from her fretting ruminations. How long had she been blank? Shit, what was happening?
She looked up to her father, just in time for Homer's gaze to fall upon her, making her feel even smaller compared to the towering man than she already was.
"And do you, Lisa Marie Simpson, accept this soul as your wedded and bonded husband, through war and peace, through wealth and want, as long as life runs through your veins?"
Lisa's mouth hung open for far too many silent seconds, her brain trying to keep up with what was happening.
Say "I do," you dumbass, she admonished herself.
"I do, you dumbass."
Fffffuuuuuuuck.
Homer glowered at her, like a cold, stone colossus, growling deep in the furnace of his chest. Lisa went cold, suddenly very aware of every set of eyes set upon her.
"Um...sorry, I was...talking to my inner voice. I mean, I do."
Homer's lips curled slightly, and Lisa honestly didn't know which unnerved her more, the stern colossus that was officiating her wedding, or the dry smile he now wore.
"Then by the grace of the one to whom we owe our existence, I name you husband and wife. You may now-"
Bart didn't waste any time. He lunged at Lisa, scooping her into his arms and kissing her so deeply, so suddenly, that she hadn't had time to take a breath before she found a long, serpentine tongue driven into her throat. Hands clutched at asses, and Lisa shivered as her brain exploded into warm, fuzzy flashes of electric colour. She let herself be swept away by Bart's embrace, slipping her tongue into his mouth, pulling him deeper into herself.
"Alright, you two. I know you don't need to breathe, but come up for air anyway."
The two siblings broke apart, Lisa swooning backwards, smoothing out her dress nervously.
"Ahem. Sorry, everyone, I just--" Whatever her next sentence was, she abandoned it in favour of tongue-fucking her brother's throat again, before finally stepping back, blushing.
The gallery of thralls and relatives clapped, and Marge stepped forward, waving her hand around to draw attention to her. "Alright, alright, we've done the first part of the ceremony. What comes next is just for the newlyweds, so the rest of you, upstairs, there's food and refreshments waiting." She looked to Chief Wiggum and Ned. "Gentlemen, we'll need the centrepiece in the storage room. Ned, is the room ready?"
"Oh yes indeedy, Mistress. Plastic sheeting, wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling. Why, you could commit bloody murder in there and it'd be a snap to clean up!"
Marge grinned. "Well, that is the point, yes. Go get the centrepiece, I'll prepare our bride and groom for the next part."
The adults and thralls shuffled upstairs; Grampa muttered something about Homer not really being a priest, then jumped to asking Dr. Hibbard to look at a lump on his butt, which Hibbard groaned at. Marge guided her two children towards the downstairs bathroom hallway, towards a side-door.
"Mom, omigod, we just got married!" Lisa's brain was only now beginning to process events. "Is this real? Are we dreaming this? How is this possible?"
Marge chuckled at her excitable daughter. "It's real, you're wide awake, and it's possible because your father really was an ordained priest in the Church of Sweden. Again, it might not be a legally recognized marriage, what with you and Bart being both underaged and siblings, but we only ever paid lip service to human laws anyway." Marge opened the non-descript steel door at the end of the hallway, a blast of cold air escaping past the three of them, and fumbled for a lightswitch on the wall. She flipped the lights on, revealing a drab concrete room, windowless, with steel shelves covered in emergency rations and Beatles memorabilia, and every square inch of the room was covered in ragged, old plastic sheets.
"Umm...Mom? What's this room for?" Lisa stepped on the plastic-covered floor, nearly slipping. Bart helped her keep her balance, and when she had regained her footing, she perked up. "Oh! Is it for when we-'' she made the universally recognizable hand gesture for sex, forming a circle with the forefinger and thumb of one hand, then poking the forefinger of her other hand through the circle.
Marge giggled. "Well, you can do that in here, sure, it is your wedding day. But no, honey, that's not what the room is for. Now, quickly, I need you two to get naked. We don't want your clothes to get ruined by the Feeding."
Lisa cocked her head to the side, confused, even as Bart tugged at his bow tie, kicking off his shoes into the hall. "Feeding?"
"You just had the human part of a wedding - the part you would understand to be a wedding. But vampires don't go for symbolism, generally. Our wedding ceremonies are much more simple, tend to be much quicker, and always much messier. Humans exchange vows and rings- "
"Yeah," Bart interrupted, stepping out of his trousers and giving Lisa a delicious view of his bare ass, "why don't we get rings?"
"Because rings are a symbol of faith, and vampires can be hurt or even killed by symbols of faith. Don't worry, we have something better than rings."
It was at this point that Ned and Chief Wiggum returned, carrying what looked like a rolled up carpet on their shoulder. The two men pushed past Marge daintily, dropping the lumpy, swollen carpet on the plastic sheeting. Wiggum took off his hair, scratching his head. "Well, here sh-" he stopped himself. "Here it is, Mistress."
"Excellent, you two. Now go upstairs. And Ned, find something with a good amount of bass to it and turn up the volume. Not enough to disturb the neighbours, but just enough to cover any sound down here."
"Okilly-dokilly, Mistress. I hope you folks like the Lennon Sisters!"
Ned and Wiggum went upstairs, and the three Simpsons waited until the sound of female voices boomed from upstairs. Bart wrinkled his nose at the old-time music, shaking his head.
"We need to get that man something recorded sometime after the discovery of electricity."
Alright kids, Marge closed the door behind herself, the music upstairs considerably muted, the final step in a vampire wedding is important. The human aspect is over with, now it's time for you two to do the one thing that will mark you as bonded forever.
Marge knelt at the bundled carpet on the floor, grabbing an edge of the musty, olive-brown rug, and unwinding it. As she pulled on the carpet, a figure, soft and lumpy, rolled out of it, slumping onto the floor in a heap, slowly moving as if waking from a deep slumber.
Without giving the game away too much, just imagine this as the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp.
The lumpy figure pushed itself up into a seated position, opened it's groggy eyes, and let out a fearful whimper.
And this luckless bitch is the spaghetti.
Bart and Lisa looked at the dazed figure in front of them. Nude, with folds of cellulite jutting out from her thighs and stomach, sallow skin and stretch marks and hair like dried, brown straw. Her eyes were bleary and sunken, her mouth agape and toothless. Bart knew her in an instant.
"Mrs. Muntz?"
Marge scowled at the addled woman on the floor. "Vampires aren't considered properly married until they share a feeding. Two souls, destroying one. Devouring one. This is your final step, your last days as fledglings. After this, you will be full, blooded vampires. All you have to do, is eat this fat fucking whore."
Mrs. Muntz seemed to come to a realisation about her current situation, and she scrambled to Marge's feet like a panicked animal. "Please! Oh god, you have to let me go! I...I won't tell anyone, just please let me go home! My little boy will be home soon, he'll be waiting for me!"
The reminder that Nelson had ever existed flared up Lisa's anger. She had vowed just last night to kill everyone who ever loved Nelson, and this was exactly what she wanted. Bart, however, wasn't so certain.
"Mom, I dunno if I can kill someone..."
"Bart, sweetie, you've already killed Lisa. And by doing that, you started the chain reaction that led to both Reverend Lovejoy's death, and Nelson's."
The mention of her son sent Mrs. Muntz into hysterics. "Nelson? Is Nelson here? Nelly, baby, Momma's in here! Oh please let me see him!"
Marge looked sternly at her son. "Bart, we don't have the luxury of squeamishness anymore. We're predators now. Humans are our food. We can get away with feeding on them without killing, but this woman knows us. She's seen our faces and she knows what we are. She is a threat to our entire family, unless you do something about her."
Lisa stepped up to the grovelling woman, and cruelly kicked her in the jaw, sending her head flying back from the impact, splattering the ceiling with an arc of blood from a broken lip, two teeth clattering somewhere into the plastic. "Good enough for me. We got this, Mom. You don't have to worry about Bart and me."
Marge looked to Bart, who was stunned. She shook her head. "You'll have to make a choice, Bart. I can't force you to do this, not even as your Countess. But I know you'll do the right thing, sweetie."
And with that, Marge opened the door, stepped into the hall, and locked the door behind her.
Mrs. Muntz groggily tried to push herself off the floor, sobbing in thick, sickening heaves, thin threads of blood pooling into the plastic beneath her.
"P-pweashe," she mumbled out, "My boy needsh me!"
Lisa growled and lunged at the pudgy, pathetic woman, eyes glowing yellow and fangs flashing brightly. "Fuck your fucking boy, you fat slut!" Lisa's fingers dug at the saggy old throat of this poor woman, her nails cutting into her loose skin and drawing blood. "You want to know where Nelson is?"
Mrs. Muntz nodded, her eyes wide with horror, tears forming along the lids, her chin bloody.
Lisa smiled, a cruel, evil smile that showed off each of her needle-like teeth. "He's fucking dead."
"No." Mrs. Muntz shook her head, her hair rocking back and forth like a ratty old pompom. "Noooo, Nelshon, he'sh a goot boy..."
This made Lisa even angrier, and with a hissing screech, she threw the old woman across the room, sending her into a broken heap against one of the steel shelves. Blood ran from fresh lacerations on her shoulders, gashes newly cut from the sharp edges of the shelves.
"Like fuck he was! Do you know what he did to my pet? What he could have done?"
Lisa was on her like a vulture on a fresh corpse, slashing away with her nails, raking thin trails of red on the woman's arms and face. "He fucking died crying for his whore Mommy! Where the fuck where you? Why didn't you save him?"
Mrs. Muntz wailed and shrieked as the demonic little girl tore at her. Bart stood by, shocked to see Lisa so angry, so violent. This wasn't her. She meditated. She was a fucking vegetarian! She didn't torture drunk old women for fun.
"Lisa, maybe-"
She twisted her head to face Bart, her eyes glowing nearly hot-white, her teeth seeming to grow longer and sharper, as if they would burst out of her mouth. "Her brat broke into our house! Attacked my thrall! Our thrall! Fuck their whole white trash fucking family!"
Mrs. Muntz lashed out in fear, her thick, meaty fist catching Lisa in the jaw, knocking the savage child back.
She didn't get a chance to press her minor advantage, before Bart was on her.
"I was going to let you go, bitch! I was on your fucking side!" Whatever Lisa had become in her anger, her murderous rage, it was eclipsed completely by the monster that was her brother-husband. Lisa was taking her revenge on someone only related to the one who wronged her. Bart was actively protecting his wife, and there was no mercy, no peace, in his voice. Only murder.
Mrs. Muntz looked up at the black, soulless eyes of the boy who was now digging his fingers into her neck and twisting them, tearing at her sagging flesh. Nothing stared back at her from those empty voids in his face, and she faintly recalled something warm running down her legs. Her chest hurt in an instant, as if someone was trying to pull the front of her chest out the back of her chest, and she nearly doubled over in agony.
She wailed, blubbering and sobbing, trying to dislodge Bart's fingers from her neck. He opened his mouth wide, too wide, almost flipping it open like the cap on a tube of toothpaste, and Mrs. Muntz' eyes went slack at the sight of row upon row upon row of shark-like teeth. His breath smelled of rotted copper, and in a flash, he snapped his mouth shut upon her neck, hundreds of needles piercing her skin.
Lisa shook her head, and looked to see Bart giving in, finding his true self. She smiled, stepped over the stinking yellow puddle streaming from the fat slag before her, and dug her teeth into the bitch's meaty shoulder.
There was no patience or consideration in the feeding, only greed and want and need and hateful revenge. Bart and Lisa savagely tore at the weathered skin, biting chunks out of Mrs. Muntz, blood spraying in thick arcs onto the walls, running in cascades down her sagging breasts, coating both unholy children as they fed from this woman.
Mrs. Muntz - she briefly remembered that her name started with an 'N' before her mind broke completely under the horror and grief of what was happening - screamed even as Bart lifted his head from her neck, a chunk of raw meat dangling from his lips. He spat it across the room, and Mrs. Muntz begged for mercy. Bart sank back down against her, and she felt something long and wet lapping at her open neck. Behind the two demons that only looked like children, Nelson stood, watching his mother. Her son shook his head, tears in his eyes.
Why, Mom? He said in his saddest voice, the voice that always made her heart twinge with guilt. Why wasn't there any food? Why were strange men in the bathroom? Why did Dad leave? Why did other families have lights on, or Christmases, or shoes?
Why did you fail me?
Her only response to her son, even as the lights dimmed and his sad face faded into shadow, was the wet gurgling sound made as her veins flooded out like a backed-up sink, as inhuman hands tore her jaw from her head.

Mrs. Muntz lay, lifeless, heaped into a pile on the floor. Bart lay on his back, Lisa straddling him, riding his cock like a cowgirl at a rodeo. The two siblings were painted red from head to toe, having torn their first kill together apart like wrapping paper. Lisa grunted and panted as she slammed herself onto Bart's cock, her heavy tits bouncing with every downward thrust. Blood rained in thick, syrupy curtains from the ceiling, and even the lightbulb cast a bloody aura on the scene.
"Ah fuck yes, Bart! Fuck! Goddamn, we did it! Fucking married now, fucking killed that ugly bitch! Gaah!"
She leaned down, kissing her brother, biting at his tongue, licking the gore from his face. "I want this all the time, Bart. No more school, no more anything but raw, endless fucking. Never take your dick out of me!"
She shared the gristle and blood scraped from his chin with his tongue. "I think my cock will have to come out, if you want this baby out."
"Mmf, fuck that, I'll have a fucking C-Section. Whatever it takes so I never have to climb off this magical fucking cock of yours."
Lisa seethed and howled as he bucked against her brother-husband, her hand on his chest as she steadied herself for her ride. Bart looked down at where they were connected, his thick, pulsing cock disappearing into his sister's hot, leaking cunt, her hole devouring his shaft, her muscles massaging and milking him. She wiggled her ass, feeling Bart's cock swell inside her.
"Mm, not yet, baby. I need you to wreck me, just fucking pound all my holes until you can't pound them anymore. Then I want your hot fucking cum all over me."
Bart moved like a beam of light, rolling Lisa onto her back, pounding away into her bald cunt, her swollen tits jiggling as he slammed into her.
"There you go again, bossing me around Lees. Just who's the fucking sire around here?"
Lisa yelped in a mixture of playfulness and pain as Bart shoved himself as deep as possible back inside of her. "I'm sorry! Oooh, please, I'm sorry, Master! You're the sire! You're my fucking Daddy! I'll be a good girl for you, Master!"
In a blur of motion, Bart pulled out of Lisa, his sister-wife whining that her cunt was now empty, and repositioned himself, straddling her face, his cock between her milky tits. Slowy, he began pumping his cock between Lisa's swollen, sticky boobs, titfucking her with a gradually increasing tempo. He mauled at her tits, twisting and pinching her erect nipples, milk running in watery streams down the puffy mounds and mingling with the blood painting their bodies. Lisa grunted and moaned, her tongue reaching out to caress Bart's swinging ball sack until she was able to suck the fat, juicy orbs into her waiting mouth. As she sucked and massaged his heavy nuts, his thick cream churning inside the delicate spheres, Bart thrust his raging hardon between her jiggly little tit-mounds. He craned his neck to look over her baby-filled tummy, spying her bare, bald mound, and gave it a sharp slap, making her jump underneath him.
"You like getting your nasty little girl cunt spanked, don't you Lees?"
Lisa could only muffle a pained response. Bart might have thought she had answered in the negative, except after that initial slap to her cunny, she raised her hips higher, spread her legs wider, and wiggled her twat, begging for more, which Bart was only all too glad to provide.
Spank!
"Mmf!"
Spank!
"Nggg!"
Spank!
"Mmmfffff-" Bart's balls dropped from Lisa's mouth, coated in spittle, "Ffffuck Baaaart! Frig that pussy! Fucking own it, please!"
With a wicked grin, Bart pressed hard against his sister's cunt, his thumb playing along her clit as he rubbed her in a manic frenzy, watching her fluids fly as her cunny spasmed and throbbed. Lisa writhed and moaned against her brother-husband's sack. her pussy burning with electric want. She arched her hips up and squealed as her twat burst like a broken dam, pussy juice flooding out of her with such force, she almost thought her water had broken. She slammed her ass back down against the cold, bloody floor, heaving and panting, when Bart rolled her onto her side, and spread her small ass, lining his cock up with her tight, pink puckered hole.
"Mmf...shit, Bart, god...yeah, shove that dick up my ass! I want you to doggyfuck me like a fucking bitch!" She rolled over and lifted herself onto her knees, raising her ass into the air. With a playful wiggle, she looked back at her brother-husband and his throbbing hard cock. "Mmm, like this, Bart. Stuff it right up my ass like this."
Bart chuckled, placing one hand on Lisa's swollen belly, the other on her shoulder, and mounting her from behind. With a single push, he thrust his cock into her ass, Lisa seething as her lover's dick invaded her guts.
"Mmmmfffffffuuuck! Oh fuck! Oh ffffuck!"
"You okay, Lees?"
"Ffffuck, yesssss. Gimme a sec. Shiiiiit, fffffeels so fucking goooood!"
Lisa wiggled her ass against Bart, letting herself become accustomed to the cock in her asshole, then began slowly pumping herself back against him. Soon, Bart joined in, thrusting against her, riding her ass.
"Ahhhgod! Bart, fuck that ass! Holy shit, it feels so good!"
Bart picked up the tempo, bucking his hips faster, deeper, harder into Lisa's ass. Her tits swayed back and forth with every thrust, her voice a hiccuping whine as her guts were rearranged.
Grunting as he fucked his sister-wife, Bart clutched at her body, pulling her onto his shaft, pummeling her asshole, until, finally, she convulsed as if electrocuted, her asshole clamping down on him, spasming as orgasms tore through them both. Lisa squealed as Bart's hot cum splashed against her guts, and her cunt sprayed out like a geyser, splashing Bart with her juices. Spent, the newlywed siblings collapsed into the bloodstained plastic on the floor, panting and wheezing, curled into one another amidst the melange of bodily fluids.
After a few seconds, Bart staggered to his feet. "You hungry, Lees?"
Lisa hummed peacefully, her entire body buzzing with contentment. "Mmm...didn't we drink every drop of that withered old cunt?"
Bart walked over to the remains of Mrs. Muntz. Her chest had been pulled open, her ribs jutting out like gore-flecked spears stabbing at the cold air of the basement. Reaching into her open chest, Bart grabbed the corpse's heart, and with minimal effort, tore it free of the arteries and gristle holding it in place.
"Yeah, more or less. But we still got this. Wanna try it?"
Lisa half-turned, looking over her shoulder to see Bart holding Mrs. Muntz' heart. She smiled, and nodded. "Sure, bring it over."
Bart returned to Lisa's side, sliding down to the floor and leaning against the wall. Lisa curled into his chest, her hand on her belly, and watched as he dug his thumbs into the dead woman's heart, pulling it open like a ripe piece of fruit. Lisa took half of the bleeding organ, and watched as Bart took the first bite of his share, wrinkling her nose at the sound of fangs tearing into cold, dead muscle, blood and gore running down his chin. She looked at her share, half the size of an adult's fist, and sighed.
"And to think I used to be a vegetarian. Here I am, about to eat a human heart. Life's fucking weird, isn't it?"
Bart was too busy chewing the tough muscle tissue to answer. Lisa shrugged, and took a bite. The flavour was...different. She hadn't been expecting ambrosia, but she certainly hadn't expected it to taste quite so...normal. It was like a steak, only cold, and seemingly made of silk, smooth grained and gentle. She decided she didn't hate the experience, and quickly finished off her half.
"You think she had anything else worth eating in her?"
Bart was licking his fingers clean. "Mmf, probably not. Lungs looked pretty fucked up from cigarettes, I wouldn't trust her liver or kidneys not to be fucking pharmaceutical cesspools, and the less said about her brain, the better."
"My god, Bart, we didn't just tear this woman apart and drink her blood, we fucking ate her heart. What the fuck does that say about us?"
Bart chuckled, hugging his naked, fucked out sister to his side.
"Honey, it says that we're monsters. I thought you knew."
Lisa snuggled into Bart's neck, kissing him lightly. "Well, is this blood-orgy thing going to be a regular occurance for us, hubby?"
"I hope not. I like the sex part, but the cleanup is going to be a bitch, and I don't even clean up after myself when my mess is just socks and underwear."
Lisa sighed. "Yeah. This was fun. Weird. Kinda...no, really, fucked up. But fun. But not something I want to do more than once or twice a decade or so."
The siblings fell silent, just holding each other, listening to the music upstairs, breathing in the scent of gore and fear, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Marge stepped out of the Flanderses master bedroom, smoothing out her dress. She looked back onto the bed, seeing Homer snoring happily, his slick, glistening cock lay across his belly, already wilting from it's adventures in Marge's cunt. His cum was trailing down her thigh, making her shiver in the most delicious way. With a heavy sigh, Marge closed the door to let Homer rest, and turned towards the stairs, finding Chief Wiggum waiting for her.
"Clancy. Is there something the matter?"
"Uh, no, Marge, I was just...what did you want us to do with Mrs. Muntz after the kids...you know..."
Marge straightened out her hair. "That depends on what state the kids leave her in. A blood-bond feeding can be...messy. I've never had one myself, having married a mortal, but I've seen the aftermath of some of them. Let me just say, plastic and chlorine bleach are the two greatest inventions in human history."
Muffled moans came from across the hall, from the boys' room. Marge suspected that Rod and Todd had slipped away from the party, and were currently buggering on another like beasts in heat. She pulled Chief Wiggum to the side.
"For now, I think it would be best if Mrs. Muntz faced an ignoble death. If I'm honest, I suspect she had something to do with her son's disappearance. Yes, I do believe that in her intoxicated state, she must have killed poor Nelson, or driven him away, and in her grief, she...well, we've both seen what grief can do to a parent. Just like poor Timothy Lovejoy. Do you understand, Clancy?"
Wiggum rubbed his forehead. "I understand, Mistress. Seymour and I will move the...whatever is left of her, when the kids are done."
"That will do fine, Clancy." Wiggum turned to go back down the stairs, when Marge placed a hand on his shoulder. "Clancy?" Wigum turned back to his Mistress, who looked upon him the way a concerned mother would a wayward child. "I know this is difficult for you. You dedicated your entire life to the law, and I know that the things your duty to me requires of you weigh heavily on your mind, don't they?"
Clancy thought for a second, then shook his head, clearly uncertain. "No, Mistress, I can..." His shoulders slumped, defeated. "Yeah. I'm supposed to uphold the law, and here I am, planning body disposals and coverups. I know who killed Reverend Lovejoy. I have a pretty good idea of what happened to Nelson Muntz. And not only can I not do anything about it, but...I don't even want to. And I'm aware enough to know that I should want to do something about it. I'm just...it's a lot, you know?"
"Do you regret our relationship, Clancy?"
Wiggum shook his head, this time with utter sincerity. "Oh no, Mistress. You need me. It's...nice to be needed. I love Sara and Ralphie, but...I worship you, Mistress. I can do what you need me to do, but..."
Marge smiled, understanding. "But you can't make yourself enjoy it. Clancy, when was the last time you received me?"
Clancy was quiet for a while, doing the math in his head. "Um....two months, Mistress. You've been busy, what with the new grandbaby on the way and all."
Marge pulled Clancy close to her, and in a motion so quick it would have made a cobra gape in awe, she sank her fangs into the police chief's neck, greedily gulping down his lifeblood. Just as suddenly, she pulled herself back, bit into her wrist, and offered it to the dazed, weakened man before her. Like a dog salivating at the sound of a bell, Chief Wiggum clamped his lips onto Marge's seeping wound, and sucked on the thick, bitter fluid oozing forth, swallowing his fill. When he had had enough, he let her arm drop, and wiped at his lips, seemingly refreshed.
"Thank you, Mistress. I think I needed that."
Marge nodded, patted the police chief on the head, and watched as he continued down the stairs.
And as he ambled up to the snack table in the dining room, grabbing a fistful of pretzels, Marge was already planning which of Wiggum's officers was going to replace him as police chief when she finally got tired of his ambiguity and just fucking killed him.

Edna Krabappel watched as the beads of spittle ran down her chin, soaking into the upholstery of her couch. Her breath was ragged and short, and she rocked back and forth, her eyes rolling back into her head as the thin cock filling her cunt slid in deeper, the bald pelvic mound pressing against her fat, mature ass.
"Tell me what else they said."
The old man sitting in the chair folded his hands in his lap. His eyes, small and beady, watched as Edna reached back behind herself, spreading her ass wide for her young lover.
"N-nothing, Master!"
"Nothing?" The old man's voice was an incredulous rasp, halfway between anger and exhaustion. "They must have said something. What their whore mother was planning, some secrets about the family!"

Edna shook her head, her auburn hair bouncing side to side. SHe arched her back in mind-melting ecstasy as her paramour began pumping into her from behind. "No, Master. They didn't...wait...yes! There is something!"
The old man shifted in his seat, leaning forward to hear her better. "Well? What is it?" He snapped his bony, arthritic fingers, a sound like twigs breaking, and Edna's body stopped rocking. Fingers stopped clutching at her breasts, and the slender, smooth cock of her lover stopped pistoning in and out of her cunt. Edna froze up, her eyes wide - the pipeline had been cut off, her addiction to young cock denied.
"Please! Let him fuck me, I need this, Master!"
"Tell me what they said then, Edna." The old man's voice was cold and resolute.
Ednas trained to remember - how to speak, how to think, how to do anything that wasn't riding a delicious boycock.
"L-Lisa Simpson! She's pregnant!"
"That's it? What do I care if some little slut gets herself knocked up? That's all you have for me? I am very disappointed, Edna."
"No, please! It-it's her brother's!"
The old man sat back up, intrigued.
"What? An inbred vampire of the de Lara line?"
He was silent. A wordless nod from him, and the cock inside Edna began moving again. She giggled in joyous rapture, sinking her face into the couch cushions, sobbing with relief. "Oh, oh thank you, Master! Thank you!"
The old man didn't say anything. His mind was racing with ideas and plans.
So Margarita de Lara's bloodline has folded in on itself. That could...yes....oh, the Elder Houses won't be happy about this, not at all.
Thin, bloodless lips curled into a cruel smile, yellowed, needle-like teeth glinting in the candlelight of the dim living room in Edna Krabappel's apartment. The old man leaned back into his chair, tented his fingers with cold delight, and watched as his childer fucked his thrall.
"Excellent," he hissed, as Milhouse growled into Edna's ear, stiffening up as he flooded her guts with his cold, dead cum. "Yesss, quite excellent."
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He's Like The Wind