Horsons extended

compiled version of the horsons stories

Jack Horson was abruptly roused from a recurring dream in which he was being hunted by ogres by the persistent sound of a meaty fist pounding against his bedroom door. “Jack, breakfast is ready!” his mother’s robust voice boomed, resonating through the cozy, albeit chaotic, house. He groaned in response, pulling the soft covers tighter around him as he contemplated the comfortable warmth of his bed. However, the thought of missing breakfast sent a shiver of dread through him. Last time he skipped a meal, he ended up spending the next month being used as the family toilet. He listened to his mother's heavy footsteps retreating down the hall, her massive belly slapping the walls as she waddled down the stairs.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed the covers aside and swung his legs over the side of his pallet, feeling the chill of the floorboards beneath his bare feet. As he descended the creaky staircase, the enticing aroma of sizzling meats wafted upward, coaxing him closer to the kitchen. Stepping into the bustling space, he was met with a sight that was both overwhelming and bizarre: the long wooden table was heaped with an extravagant array of meats—crispy bacon, plump sausages, and glistening slabs of steak—each dish radiating warmth and enticing fragrances. His fifteen sisters, each a whirlwind of energy, surrounded the table, their laughter and chatter filling the air like a joyful symphony.

He reached for a golden-brown chicken drumstick, its skin crisp and inviting. As he began to nibble on the savory meat, he couldn’t help but feel both fascinated and slightly repulsed by the sight of his mother, who effortlessly swallowed an entire ham in one colossal bite. The spectacle was almost surreal—her eyes sparkled with sheer enjoyment, while a loud belch from his father erupted across the room, a clear signal that breakfast had come to an end.

With his sisters now busily clearing away the remnants of their hearty meal, Jack made his way back upstairs. Rorik was mounting Molly on the kitchen table. This display was met with resounding applause from the assembled daughters. As he ascended the stairs, his thoughts shifted toward the day ahead, contemplating his plans as he prepared to get dressed, the echoes of laughter still ringing in his ears.

Jack loathed and hated his family when they weren't trying to eat him; they were trying to seduce him. His sisters were just as bad as his parents. He could not count the number of times his sisters had bragged at dinner about eating their latest boyfriend in the middle of sex. Or had entered a belching contest with their father. All this was encouraged by his parents. The only sister he had a somewhat normal relationship with was his younger sister, Molly. She was ten months younger than Jack.

Jack prefers spending time away from his family, and he has few friends. There are only two other families that live near them. The Enderdsons and the Fullers. There are also the Bloathes, but they tend to keep to
themselves.
His best friend is Brianna Fuller; he does not think of her as his girlfriend. he is also friends with Bryce Enderson.

Gretta Horson let out a hearty belch that echoed through the cozy, dimly lit living room, a sound filled with both satisfaction and indulgence. She shifted her bulging belly into a more comfortable position as she sat naked on the plush, cream-colored carpet, its softness contrasting with the warmth of the room that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. Her husband, Rorik, equally unclothed, rested his head gently on her swollen abdomen, his breathing calm and rhythmic, a soothing backdrop to the lively atmosphere.

With a mischievous glint in her emerald-green eyes, Gretta licked her thick, generously glossed lips and reached out with her slender fingers to grab a gooey slice of cheesy pizza, its mouthwatering aroma filling the air like a seductive invitation.

Moments later, Minerva, the youngest of their brood and Rorik's cherished plaything, bounded into the room with a burst of infectious energy. Her wild curls bounced as she raced toward them, and Gretta exchanged a knowing, conspiratorial smile with Rorik, who was momentarily distracted from his current role as a human pillow. He playfully led Minerva over to the cozy couch, where her laughter rang out like bright, joyful music—light and carefree.

As Gretta watched Minerva squeal with delight while bouncing energetically on Rorik's lap, she sighed, feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement. The sight of her husband so engaged with their child made her heart swell with warmth, yet a small twinge of annoyance crept into her thoughts. She nodded curtly to Rorik, allowing a few rebellious locks of her rust-colored hair to tumble playfully into her eyes. With a swift motion, she tucked them behind her pointed ears, her expression a blend of playful annoyance and affectionate resignation. Flicking her tongue over her elongated fangs, she pondered her next move in this lively domestic tableau, balancing the joys and challenges of family life

As Rorick observed Minerva's delicate toes, perfectly manicured and painted a soft lavender, gradually vanish from view as they were sucked into his cock., a familiar and unsettling thought nagged at him: perhaps he should consider consuming her. The notion was both disquieting and tantalizing, particularly when he reflected on the prospect of bedding one of his other daughters. Yet, most were far too young to pique his interest in any meaningful way, their childhood innocence still vibrant and untouched.

Trading Minerva to the Endersons was another option he contemplated. However, that family was a chaotic mix of twelve boisterous sons, leaving them with only two daughters. Despite the abundance of male energy within their home, their eldest daughter—now a sophomore in college—had managed to cycle through seven different boyfriends and five roommates in just a couple of years, creating a rapidly shifting landscape of relationships that perplexed and fascinated Rorick. The younger daughter, still in high school, was enveloped in rumors swirling around her like the autumn leaves outside, suggesting she remained untouched by the hands of boys—a notion that seemed nearly impossible in a household dominated by such masculine presence.

Later that night, as Rorick slid beneath the heavy, quilted covers next to Greta, who snored like a chainsaw, he felt the weight of his unsettling decision pressing down on him. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the moon casting shadows that danced across the walls. Tomorrow, he would have to approach Georg Enderson, his neighbor and not-so-frequent confidant, to discuss the daunting prospect of a trade. The possibilities of what lay ahead twisted in his mind like smoke, elusive and yet tantalizingly close.
the next morning, after what seemed like an eternity of grunting and straining, Rorick Horson breathed a sigh of relief as Minerva's feet slid free of his cock. he watched her cum soaked body lie there motionless. after a few moments, she began to move slowly, getting onto her knees.

he finally said in a gruff voice, "Get cleaned up, Georg Enderson is coming over with his daughter, Sicely."

Rorik clicked his tongue thoughtfully as he examined Metra from every angle. Her posture was good, her breasts were high and firm. She did not flinch when he flicked her nipple with his thumb. She let out a slight moan when he inserted his forefinger into her snatch; otherwise, she did not make a sound.
Betty Horson sat comfortably by the sparkling blue pool, her hand gently cradling her noticeably bloated belly as the warm sun enveloped her in its golden embrace. The tranquility of the moment was soon brightened by the arrival of Beatrice, who emerged from the patio doors, her radiant golden hair catching the sunlight and shimmering like a halo. Trailing behind her were her lively seven-year-old twins, their laughter filling the air with an infectious joy.

The younger twin, a spirited girl with bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, giggled excitedly and exclaimed, "It’s snack time!" Her voice danced with enthusiasm as she skipped forward. Beatrice's face softened with affection as she bent down, planting a playful kiss on her daughter’s button nose, eliciting a delighted squeal that echoed in the warm afternoon air.

Beatrice unhooked her jaw then when the girls head was in her throat began easing in the shoulders. After a few minutes all that was left were the feet. Beatrice gave them a lick with her tounge eliciting a giggle from her daughter

Jack opened the front door of the house to find his father and mother sitting naked on the sofa. His mother's belly was resting on the floor as he was about to head up the stairs to his room. As he set foot on the stairs, "Come here," his mother said. Sweetly, as much as he wanted to climb the stairs, he found himself standing before his mother. Trying to ignore her nakedness. "Do you like what you see?" "N-N-no," Jack stammered. "Don't you like women?" she asked with a pout. "You are my mother." She let out a wry chuckle, "You think I'm your mother, I'm not your mother. She did make a delicious meal for us." As Greta said, Jack briefly saw a woman's face pressed into the flesh of his mother's belly.