Izzy sits nervously on her bed in her motel room. Three powerful women have conspired to trap her and fulfill an ancient prophecy. Clotho moves close.
“What do you want?” Izzy cries out in concern.
Clotho “We want what was prophesied,” the pregnant being says, rubbing her hands over her stomach, then over her hips, her fingers slipping under the edge of her shirt. “Don’t you want me too?” Clotho asks,
Izzy’s stomach flutters, fear and excitement running through her. She had never been with a woman and often regrets not trying it, especially with Samantha, her ex-coworker.
“I might. I have never…” Izzy says, looking away as the fate lifts off her shirt. Izzy can’t help but sneak a peek and sees the woman wasn’t wearing a bra. Izzy gives up and stares at the heavy but perky breasts jealously.
Izzy shakes her head and focuses on Clotho’s hands instead. “What’s the prophecy?” she says, transfixed.
Clotho tosses her top on the floor. She runs her fingers over her belly. She smiles at Izzy. “One prophecy is the day I give birth will be the beginning of all things anew.”
“What’s that have to do with me?” Izzy asks, her head tilted a few degrees questioningly.
Clotho moves closer, grabbing Izzy’s hand. She pulls it to her belly. Izzy’s is so warm on her naked skin. She lets out a sigh and looks down, watching the threads of fate bending around Izzy’s fingers.
“It means my child is the end of the world and the beginning of the next.” Clotho frowns; she drops her guard for a moment, just long enough for Izzy to trip and fall into a telepathic bond. Clotho gasps at the sudden invasion.
Izzy is overwhelmed, and her vision turns white. She looks to where Clotho should be. “Help, I went blind.” She waves a hand in front of her face, the white light overwhelming. “What is this? What happened?”
“Focus, Izzy, focus on your own thread leading from you to me, a single thread, Izzy, as long as time and as fine as silk,” the half-naked fate says, not letting go of Izzy’s hand. The world turns gray, then a single vibrant thread weaves through the world. She follows it to her chest, and her hand passes through it.
“Is that my thread?” Izzy asks, shocked, how thin it looks. Thin as a human hair and shining brightly like a tungsten filament.
“Yes,” Clotho touches Izzy’s chest where the thread originates. She plays with the thread, winding it between her fingers.
Izzy pulls back at first but then pushes forward. Izzy smiles at Clotho. There is a growing tension in her belly, a familiar feeling of desire.
Clotho pulls on it, dragging Izzy the last few inches, pulling them together.
Clothos’ doomsday device belly pressing against Izzy’s. The thread is holding her tightly to her, and Izzy leans forward till their lips touch, and Clotho’s toes curl as she feels Izzy stop fighting fate and just let it happen.
Izzy lets her hands wander across the pregnant woman’s body. Clotho pulls Izzy’s shirt off, and Izzy feels self-conscious next to the beauty of Clotho.
“Is it safe to tug on the thread like that?” Izzy asks, looking down at Clotho’s hands, the thread wrapped around them.
Clothos’s hands touching and feeling every inch of Izzy’s exposed skin, “The thread of fate cannot be broken so easily.”
“Still be gentle,” Izzy says, kissing under the jaw of Clotho. Izzy can feel her shiver each time.
Izzy blushes, having never been with a woman before, let alone a supernatural one. With a guy the etiquette is simple, but with a woman? She tenses as she feels hands on her back. She looks over her shoulder and into the face of Lachesis, whose strong, motherly hands unhook her bra.
“How far along are you?” Izzy asks, looking into Clotho’s eyes. Izzy’s skin prickles at the touch of Lachesis, while she can feel the same happening under her fingers on Clotho’s soft and smooth belly; she is surprised how it’s so tight and full and incredibly warm. Izzy can feel heat radiating from her like a space heater.
“I contain everything, Izzy. I am the weaver, the fountain of all life.” Clotho smirks, stands up, and pulls her panties down, letting them fall to the ground.
Izzy looks down and feels her heart race. The image of this fate naked before her burned into her mind forever. Especially the fact that Clotho seems to not have any pubic hair whatsoever. ‘Takes me hours to look like that,’ Izzy says laughingly in her head. Izzy notices her own thread of fate going up Clotho’s leg and into the fate’s vagina.
Izzy’s internal laughter is cut off as she squeaks as Lachesis squeezes Izzy’s nipple playfully.
Clotho climbs on the bed and takes a finger and runs it down her body. She shivers as she parts her lips. “Taste me, Izzy,” she whispers. One hand on her belly, the other slowly rubbing her clit.
Izzy, burning with uncertainty but also aroused, crawls between Clotho’s legs and brings her mouth close. She can smell the smell of a healthy woman. one that’s clean and aroused.
Izzy kisses Clotho’s clit, relying on her experience watching porn and having Jacob eat her. She stiffens at the thought of his name. ‘Dammit, here I am having sex with the fates, and now you want to make me feel bad? What the hell, conscience?” she thinks. “Don’t overthink this,” she sighs, the vibrations making Clothos moan.
Clotho arches her back. “Yes, eat me, hero. Make me cum; it’s been too long.” She reaches down and rubs Izzy’s hair.
Lachesis watches Izzy respond to the praise like a rewarded puppy and go at it harder, her butt raised up in the air as she concentrates. But Lachesis can’t help herself.
Izzy yelps as Lachesis slaps Izzy’s ass playfully. She lifts her butt up higher, a bright blush forming on her face.
Clotho moans deeply. “Oh, do it again, Lachesis; she makes cute noises.”
Izzy puts more effort into eating Clotho; this experience is so exhilarating. She shivers as she feels Lachesis’s hand resting on her butt; she wonders if she will spank her again, her body tense waiting for it.
But it doesn’t come; the hand keeps moving over her skin, never leaving, but Izzy’s belly is a knotted mess.
Lachesis lifts her hand and holds it up.
Izzy moans into Clotho’s clit, the tension arousing her so much. “Why has Jacob never spanked me?” she asks, filing it away for later.
Izzy, feeling new layers of frustration, focuses that angst on Clotho.
Clotho moans and plays with her breasts, squeezing them. She looks at Lachesis and nods to her.
Lachesis smiles and brings her hand down sharply. She delights in how Izzy squirms and pulls her hand up for another, but she waits till Clotho nods to her and then spanks again.
This cycle goes on for what feels like hours, Izzy’s butt becoming warm and tingly. She is furiously eating Clotho, lost in the surreal experience.
Clotho pulls on Izzy’s hair; she shivers and orgasms, losing her focus and seeing the billions of threads flowing out of her connected to every life on the planet. For an instant everyone feels something—a moment of joy or just a strange feeling. In one case a man in Illinois hanging a picture misses the nail and hits his finger. But Clotho doesn’t care.
Clotho has small aftershocks and holds Izzy’s face to her belly for comfort as she sees prophecy in the afterglow of her orgasm.
Lachesis smirks, “Now it’s my turn.”
