Incest/Taboo Alpine Hideaway Magic

Tante then stopped her meadow dance and stepped over to me like some mountain pixie and motioned Oma to do the same. The two women now scrutinized me the way they would a pot of soup on a stove. They looked very serious for a moment and furrowed their brows until the serious nature of their faces forced them both to break up laughing as both found the stern contemplative face of the other particularly worthy of a snort and a belly laugh!

"Are they ready," Tante Margarite asked Oma in between snorts and giggles, "the lovely little sweat truffles under his arms?"

"Let's see," said Oma. She held out her hand while giggling at some unknown but obviously hilarious joke known but to her, and I placed the now fully fouled fungus in her fingers. She raised it to her nose and sniffed, looking up at her eyebrows thinking hard but still giggling. After a moment she shook her head,

"No, not quite but it will make a nice strong potion by the time we reach the hut!" She laughed and took both mushroom halves, placing them away in her magical sack. We were making good time but the sun was getting far across the sky and we would need to get to our destination before it sank behind the mountains. We continued on despite our progress being slowed by the two crazy women who were still skipping along, telling bawdy jokes, and wandering around in blissful silliness!

We started up a gradual slope for about a kilometer with the flock. We then picked up a mountain trail, worn down by countless alpine trekkers and moved into a high long green meadow. Above us, ridges capped with snow rose to either side like walls; forming a bowl beneath the mountain's snow fields and peak.

Below the snow fields were thick woods of pine that ringed the bowl. It was all very surreal and beautiful! The warm green meadow with its sharp upslope covered with lush grasses and brilliant alpine flowers stood in stark contrast to the frigid snow fields above.

A mountain brook bubbled and gushed forth; running out of the woods beneath the peak. It bisected the middle of the meadow in a lazy zig zag and then finally ran alongside the trail that we were moving along. To one side of the flowing water, about halfway to the tree line from us I saw steaming mud flats that dumped into the stream. Halfway to the hot spring and in the middle of the meadow lay our destination, the shepherd's hut!

As we approached the hut I saw that a large sheep pen lay to the southeast corner of the dwelling. It was partially covered on one side with a roof above a feeding manger. Next to the pen's gate was a small tool storage area. The hut itself was rough and made from local wood. It had two stories with small windows on both levels and the upper floor boasted a balcony that looked out back across the meadow to the southeast and beyond. It all looked like a charming little alpine cabin.

It was slightly crooked (to include its crooked chimney) but it was wonderfully decorated with its red and green painted shutters with carved hearts in their centers. There were actually quite a few carved and stylized surfaces along the outside of the cabin. Wooden squirrels climbed heavy beams with carved acorns in their mouths. A carved wooden owl surveyed the landscape from up on the balcony. The balcony itself was rather large by most standards and had two stout tree trunk columns holding it up. I could see that it formed a sort of elevated patio with a view of the sheep pen and the entrance to the meadow.

I guessed that it had taken a talented wood carver many hours of painstaking work on the balcony and the overall dwelling. Countless other birds, animals, and butterflies adorned the wooden structures and supports of the otherwise simple cabin. It was very quaint. It also looked a bit cramped for three people.

Oma had me run ahead and make certain the gate to the sheep's pen was open. I then ran back to assist Oma and Tante Margarite as they drove both flocks into the enclosure. After putting the sheep up for the night Oma retrieved the tiny poultry coop from the sack.

She set it on the ground, tapped it with her wand, and the coop stretched and grew. In a few seconds it was back to its original dimensions; full of squawking ducks, chickens, and geese all impatient to get out in the open air! Oma opened the latch to the pen and then all the foul sprang forth, clucking and squawking and carrying on with a bluster of feathers and commotion. The chickens strutted off into the grass looking for bugs, the ducks and geese waddled off to the stream for a much needed swim. All looked happy that the trip was at an end, and we shared their enthusiasm!

Lastly, the three of us went around to the front door to the cabin. Oma fetched a key from the sack, unlocked the door and pushed it open; stepping out of the way facing me. She puffed herself with pride saying,

"Your palace awaits!" She looked like a doorman to a fancy hotel the way she stood up ramrod straight to the side of the entrance. I poked my head in through the door and then stepped back and looked at Oma saying,

"Are you sure the three of us will fit in here?" Oma pushed me out of the way and looked into the hut to see for herself what I was talking about. She saw the cramped living area, the tiny roughhewn table and two simple stools. She saw the rickety ladder going up to the loft above. She saw the dilapidated old stove rusting away in the corner and she saw the small cot, littered with field mouse droppings. She made a face and pushed me out of the way of the door shutting it again and explaining to me,

"Sometimes the spell doesn't hold if the witch is away for too long! I haven't been up here since August of last year!" She locked the door and then held the key tightly in her hand speaking in her ancient and arcane tongue with her eyes closed.

She took Tante Margarite's hand and the two women repeated the strange phrases over and over for a minute. Oma then held the key up to the sun and inspected it. I could see that what had once been a rusty bit of iron was now clean metal and what's more...it shimmered and with multiple dancing specs of color in the sunlight with little sparks flying away from it!

Oma now tapped the door with the key. The sparkles and color transferred from the key to the wood of the door and then the wood of the doorway became awash in color and sparks before seemingly dissolving inside the structure. Oma then looked up at the hut like she were addressing its very frame, its beams, its rafters as she said,

"House upon the mountain, I have returned! Rouse yourself from your sleep!" With that she opened the door and the three of us stepped inside. I was shocked by what I beheld!

Where there had been a tiny living space big enough for one shepherd who wasn't too fat or too obsessed with cleanliness, there now was an enormous first floor! A large fireplace of stone stood in one corner, a beautiful cast iron stove stood where the dilapidated one had! The remainder of the house was furnished opulently by comparison to the previous example and after we ascended the stairs to the overhead bedroom, the luxuriously cozy sleeping conditions didn't disappoint either! A large feather bed next to an enormous dresser faced the window with its cheery balcony.

I was perplexed but happy. Oma could see the look upon my face and explained as best she could to me. She told me that this is a very powerful spell that an ancestor had originally set on the hut. It was a little like a clock but it had to be reset or the interior would return to its shabby condition. The magic altered the space inside the dwelling much in the way that space and other dimensions such as that of time could be... then she stopped, seeing that I was staring at her and her explanation like a pig looking at a wrist watch!

"Well," Oma said as my Tante chuckled behind her shoulder at me, "maybe some other time when you are better rested and we have all had less of THIS pipe!" She waved the pipe around and seeing it was empty, plugged it with a bit more bullweed from a cabinet above the stove. She then looked at the stove itself as she lit the pipe and exclaimed,

"Oh that reminds me! Margarite, let's get a fire going and get ourselves empty of these mushrooms!" Tante agreed it was time. She built a fire in the stove and I helped Oma gather water from the stream outside in the meadow.

Both women sat on the floor facing each other, a basket beside them while I watched. The two wise women took turns reaching inside each other and plucking the strange fungus out and dropping them the pot of water. First Oma turned and faced away from my aunt on all fours with her ass high in the air and her head down.

My Tante Margarite carefully reached inside her mother and plucked one mushroom after another from her cunny hole. The mushrooms had made both women extremely randy and lusty so they made a particularly lewd sight; my grandmother OOHHing and AHHHing with a wicked smile on her face as she sashayed her hips around against her daughter's probing touch. Then it was my aunt's turn and she spun around, and thrust her ass high for her mother's plucking fingertips. My grandmother soon emptied my aunt of all the fungus up her fanny but not without my Tante Margarite giving the same lusty lunges and grinds against her mother's hands that my Oma had given her!

The slimy mushrooms (marinated already in cunny juices of the two women), were then moved up to the stove and dumped in a boiling pot of water. Tante Margarite then retrieved from the sack the two fungi that I had fouled with the sweat of my armpits on the long trek up the mountain. She gave them both a good strong whiff that made her eyes cross and her breathing to become momentarily heavy -like she had just stepped up them mountain again. Her hand absent mindedly found her crotch and bothered her salmon petals as she dropped the two mushrooms in to the mix. Oma rooted around in the sack and started placing spices and herbs up onto shelfs. She snatched a few pinches of dried this and desiccated that and then ground them up with a mortar and pestle on the counter before tossing the contents into the brew.

Tante Margarite and Oma took turns stirring the pot and putting away necessary odds and ends up into the shelves and cupboards. From time to time they would sniff the stewing mess which to me smelled almost as nasty as the foul glop we had made at the farm the day before when we had to save a family from food poisoning. I decided that whatever the concoction was; it was an acquired taste. This did not stop the two women as my oma and tante would take in great lungful's of the steam and then run over and smell my neck and chest, only to then go cross-eyed and dash back to the pot; stirring both the ladle and their own juicing quims!

I finally asked Oma what she was making. She explained that it was a special potion that had a certain "endurance effect" on any "patient" who took of it. She the fetched a small steeping pouch from the shelf and began filling it with assorted grains from some of the many jars situated around her. She tossed in the bag and kept stirring. After several minutes she had Tante Margarite crush up some dried hops flowers and some honey from the shelf into the mix. I now knew what the foul stink was and I what's more, I knew what this potion was as well. Oma and Tante were making beer from the mushrooms!

It made a little more sense to me now. Truth be told, anything concerning beer to me makes sense but perhaps that is another discussion for another day. Oma stirred for a few minutes more and then she pushed the bubbling cauldron to the far end of the stove to allow for cooling and she dropped a few more hops in for aroma which filled the entire hut with the strong smell. We opened windows and even propped the door open to the house but only wind and time were going to get rid of the smell.

"Well," said Oma, "no use sitting in this hut. We have a few hours of sun left before it is gone behind the peaks and it becomes cool outside. Margarite, what do you say we show your nephew the mud springs up in the meadow?"

"Ja Mutti," my aunt replied, "a good idea! We both are particularly full of energy and mischief and could use a bit of RELEASE with this fine young morsel!" she eyed me with a bit of a randy leer and I could tell that whatever it was up rattling around in her head concerning the steaming mud, it was no good!

We were out the door and across the field before I knew it. The two excited women dragged me by the hand, through the grass and the flowers and across the stream that bisected the meadow. As we approached the stream, my oma pushed ahead of us and waded knee deep through the rushing water while I held back on the shore with my aunt.

She seemed placid and calm about the whole activity and I figured she was just using her mind trick to fend off the biting cold of a mountain spring that came directly from a frigid source up on the high snow fields. But no, something else was true. My tante gave me a little push from behind and I fell forward into the rushing water, completely unprepared!

I hit the water bracing for an electrifying shock of cold -that never came! I stood, mad for a brief instant at being tripped up and then realized the water was warm as a cup of tea. It also was a bit cloudy, for I could not see my feet in what should have been a clear running mountain stream. I looked at Oma and Tante totally confused. They were both laughing at my terror and then at my subsequent realization that all was not as it seemed.

"There is a thermal seam," Oma explained, "deep in the base of this mountain. The fissure goes straight down into the bowels of this mountain range I suppose. A few years ago we had several men from the Reich's Science Ministry do a some geological surveys on the mud vents up ahead of us. They were geologists or some other group of fancy fellows with important titles coming up here to measure everything concerning the boiling mud coming up from the ground. I spoke to one fellow about it and he told me all about it."

"Did he tell you this willingly or did you get some use out of your wand?" I asked my grandmother, feeling rather snide with my question.

"I invited the young man in for tea and hot soup back at the hut," she continued, ignoring the impertinence of my comment, "and he told me how there is a similar hot spring fissure down in back of the palace in the next valley."

"And a member of a Reich's Ministry just told you everything about a project he was working on?" I said keeping my smirk and doubting that she had told the whole story.

"Well," she said looking at her bare feet in the grass as if they were now particularly interesting, "I suppose ...my wand came out while he was having a second bowl of soup. Yes, perhaps that is true."

"And did that young scientist find himself staying much longer than just the time required for lunch," I asked "and then did he wake up in the meadow several hours later with no memory of events and his shoes upon the wrong feet?" I laughed at her expense, clearly seeing now that I had hit a nerve. She blushed red as she remembered something particularly lewd and tawdry and then she looked back at her bare feet some more.

"A girl has needs yes? You understand? I recall he and I did some lovely experiments together as two devotees to science and both of us did much to gain understanding of the mysteries of the earth," she said looking rather sheepish. She then giggled and her face took on a bawdy expression as she recalled, "Oh, he had such a lovely slide rule, or was it a thermometer. All I know is that it was long and he stuck me with it in several places!" Oma and Tante Margarite exploded with laughter at this observation and I shook my head.

My aunt joined me in the unusually warm water and walked to the far bank, careful not to slip. At the far side we joined my grandmother and walked on up the slope to the flats. We walked parallel to another small stream that ran out of the flats and into the larger that we had just crossed.

"See this stream; how it smokes and steams?" Oma asked me. I nodded observing that the surface of the water had wispy traces of vapor rising from its surface. Oma continued,

"It runs directly out of the mud vents. Back behind us about where we crossed the big stream, the water mixes with the frigid water from the snow fields you see high above us! This little stream is a little bit hotter before it dumps into the larger one. It is about as warm as a nice bath. That is we are taking you there. It is truly something to see and experience."

"Experience?" I asked.

"We are going to make family goulash soup!" Tante Margarite laughed as she swatted me playfully on the behind.

"Well," Oma corrected, "familial fondue or familial hot cocoa anyhow!" She and Margarite tittered like two lecherous old women as we made our way up to the muddy place in the meadow. When we arrived we stood on stony outcrops of rock that pushed up from the grass and lichens making a nice solid perch for us to take in the scene before us. And what a scene it was!

I looked across a great collection of holes; some completely covered in mud and some containing clear water that looked a bit warm by bathtub standards. Another stream ran out of the forest and cascaded through ancient boulders into the flats. It spilled into the basin formed by the collection of muddy pits, running around some of the craters and pouring into others directly. Some holes appeared dark and cloudy, while others up higher away from the edge of the vast collection of mud holes were clear as though looking through a window pane but still filled with water that I judged to be much hotter. Within these clear holes I saw brightly colored mineral deposits that reminded me of illustrations in some children's books I had seen years before.

The water that streamed into the mud pots and collected and swirled before us, steamed and smoked in the gentle breeze giving the place the appearance of a Roman style bath or a Scandinavian sauna. It churned around a bit in the bubbling nooks and crannies and then exited the mud pots by way of the steaming brook, carrying its sediments with it to head down the meadow to the main stream where we had just come from. It had a beautiful and surreal appearance that was nothing short of "otherworldly."

"Oma," I said to my grandmother, "you mentioned that the palace has something like this down in the next valley over from your farmhouse?"

"Yes," Oma said to me, "the old palace was the sight of many visits by nobles and elites who would come to use the 'smoking pools' and the 'natural healing water baths" in the gardens behind the main residence. The nobles who lived there build a large pavilion in the middle of the gardens and people would go and use the hot baths and the hot mineral mud for all kinds of ailments."

"What good does the mud do?" I asked.

"Oh," said Oma knowingly, "the mud is full of mineral sediments from deep inside the Earth Mother. It has special power all its own!"

"And it does wondrous things for those who bathe in it," added my tante who continued with, "well, some wondrous, and some deliciously wicked."

The two women grabbed me by a hand on either side of me and the three of us stepped from the outcrop first onto a bed of warm muddy sediments that were drying in the sun and then up to the edge of the cloudy swirling water, leaving footprints behind as we stepped. We walked forward out to our knees in the soupy mess and the temperature of the eddies of dark muddy current was definitely hot, but not so much as to cause discomfort. Oma looked over to a side bank of the pits where the mud looked particularly dark and viscous.

"There! Let's make our way over there," she said nodding in the direction with her head and we waded through deeper water that was up to our midsection and was cloudy as a blackish/grey plaster at the deepest point. We then started up a slight rise until we made the far side. As we reached the steaming embankment Oma released my hand and turned around. She fell backwards into the soft black mud, sinking up to her neck and making a contented, AHHHHHHH! SO NICE! Tante Margarite followed suit and did the same; a look of happiness spreading across her face.

I figured there was obviously no danger in any of this so I spun around and fell backwards, ending up in a sitting position between my aunt and grandmother with steaming warm mud up to our necks. It was wonderfully comforting and primal; like jumping into a warm bed after a night out in the cold or being wrapped in a hot towel after a cold plunge in icy water. Every squish and squash of my body in the slightly hot sediments felt luxurious! There was only one small problem.

"What is that smell? It is like gunpowder or rotten eggs." I asked.

"There is sulfur in the mineral deposits," Oma with a blissful smile on her face, "it is marvelously ...therapeutic!" She closed her eyes and let the sun stream down and strike her in the face. She now had hot mud running in a line from the base of her chin all the way back to her earlobes and everything below that line was completely submerged in the hot black soup.

"It also invigorates," said Tante Margarite to my other side, "in many mysterious ways." She also was in up to her neck in the sulfurous black pudding and I could best describe her look as an intoxicated state of primal contentment mixed with a good old flirtatious leer. I wasn't certain if it was the effect of the mushrooms or the "healing" properties of the mud but a second later I found two grasping female hands come in from either side and begin raking fingernails up and down my flesh in lewd fashion; unseen below the bubbling hot sediments that surrounded me!

I felt my loins begin to surge and stir somewhere down in the black mineral soup. Was it my imagination and my aunt's suggestion combined with the persistent rubbing hands that was doing this to me? Was it the bullweed? Was it the mushroom fog from the kitchen...or was it truly the properties of this otherworldly bath of hot mineral stew in which I was sitting? I didn't know, but what I was certain of; the beast in my balls was snarling and ready to go, as my "short arm" stood up and stiffly saluted.

Oma and Tante Margarite leered again at me with foxlike grins across their faces. Hands now found my cock and both women pouted their lips, and mewed at me with soothing tones and exaggerated wrinkles on their brows. Oma's had found my bollocks and squeezed gently as my tante ran her hand up and down my veiny pole.

"Oh it's just like iron Mutti," Tante exclaimed in a teasing whine, "like the barrel of a cannon!"

"Ja daughter," Oma replied, "and I found his powderbag and cannonballs! Do you think we should practice a little gunnery?"

"I do Mutti," Tante shot back wickedly, "I most certainly do!"

A moment later and Tante straddled across my lap somewhere down in the black ooze (all I could see was her face and shoulders before me). She sheathed my cock up into her cunny and began to buck and ride me. Oma lay next to us in the bubbling warm blackness with her head next to mine and ran her hands over us. The muck and mire proved to be quite slippery, even a bit greasy as we thrashed about in what could be described as a truly filthy fuck!

As we bucked and thrashed together, I couldn't help but notice that both women now looked much younger (as the effects of my magical healing seed had taken hold). Oma could now pass for a woman in her late forties as almost every trace of grey hair was gone; replaced by a black mane of hair. Also gone were her lines and wrinkles, save a very few. With Tante Margarite the same was true. She still looked like a mature woman but now she had the appearance of a lady in her late thirties who had experienced quite an easy life, instead of one characterized by the toil of farming and sheepherding. They knew they had a good thing with me and they planned to keep me nice and safe up here in our mountain hideaway; at least until we knew that nobody was looking for me!

After a few minutes of thrashing and fucking in the sloppy warm black mess, my Tante screamed and cried with joy as I grunted and blew my seed straight up into her cunny! Meanwhile while Oma cheered us on, impatient for her turn! Tante switched out with her mother and before I was able to go limp the old witch mounted my member and began to hop up and down upon it with great enthusiasm. My head was still a fog from all the bullweed I had smoked so in very short time I had something quite veiny and hard to work with, (it didn't hurt in the least that I was also eighteen and feeling my oats)!

We continued to rut and lunge our bodies together in the wonderful stinking black mess like a pair of pigs! All we needed was a wooden pen around the bubbling mud pit for the scene to be complete I mused. As Tante Margarite now egged us on over the next several minutes with absolutely foul suggestions and rubbed her hands upon us, I felt Oma's excitement begin to rise and build.

Oma eventually joined in with her daughter's filthy suggestive speech as her crescendo rose higher and higher. At last it sounded as though they were having an argument of sorts as both screamed obscenities at one another! It might have been something to completely off-putting for myself and my erection under "normal" circumstances, but I was full of lustful energy and bullweed smoke, there was simply no stopping me! As I thrashed and plowed Oma's quim, I noticed that the pool of black muck was bubbling with greater and greater intensity. I realized then my grandmother was not cursing but reciting the incantation another sexual spell and seemed to be in an altered state of consciousness!

My grandmother's shrieks and howls of profanity now became an ancient tongue. My aunt shouted the incantation with her and their voices blended into one shrill chorus of incantation. I felt my crescendo rising again.

I didn't know what else to do to assist in the magic but I remembered one trick that might assist. I imagined my arm pushing inside my grandmother's body, straight into her core. I made a fist of my hand for a moment and then I stopped as Oma and I hung on the edge of our orgasms. I brought my finger and thumb together on my imaginary hand and continued to wait as my crescendo built and built. Both woman were thrashing about in the bubbling black mud and now just a stream of ancient spells; Oma fucking me for all she was worth and my aunt with her hands on both our bodies. I sensed the time was right and it was then that I snapped my imaginary fingers.

My spell combined with theirs and the pots of mud rolled and stirred in large waves as each of the pooling mineral seeps erupted around us! Oma howled and shook through her crescendo and I roared as I sent hot jets of seed up inside her womb hole! Next to us my Tante simply stared skyward as if in a trance! At the outer edge of the mud pots, the clear water pools belched great geysers of water skyward, and across the clouds high above us the heavens erupted in a flash of lightning followed by a roar of thunder! Then there was peace and tranquility.

Oma looked odd as if she had awakened from a dream. She turned her face to me and stared at me soberly. Then she spoke.

Your mother will arrive soon. She will bring her sister. She will also bring your sister and your cousin.

"Mother and Gudrun? Tante Ilse? Cousin Bettina?" I asked, "How do you know this?"

"Oh," Oma answered, "I know this perfectly well. This hot spring has never failed me when I use an Oracle spell and make a magic inside it!"

"How will they get here? How would they know to come here."

"You remember the first day you came here?" my grandmother asked. I nodded at her.

"Well," she said, "you gave me a note that was written in the old tongue from the old religion. I doubt anyone else would be able to decipher it had you been caught traveling here. I wrote a similar note and left it on the table. Your mother Greta will know what is in the note as will your Tante Ilse. They'll be up the mountain as soon as they read it! I used to bring both of those two randy girls up this mountain when your father was first getting acquainted with your mother. Oh we had some merry times here..."

Her voice trailed off happily as Tante Margarite smirked. She knew of those times too and "merry" was only one of many adjectives that could describe the events that took place here when my parents were "courting." Margarite mentioned that we would probably enjoy more of the same provided my mother and Tante Ilse loosened up upon arrival.

"Well," said Oma smiling knowingly, "there is always hope. I don't think your mother will be particularly happy with the fact that I have shown you how to get in touch with your natural magical abilities but there is always hope! I'll think of something!"

When we reached the edge main stream that bisected the mountain meadow, my grandmother had the three of us jump into the stream once more; this time only to remove the mud which had caked to our bodies and hair. She didn't want us tracking mud all through the hut and the hot water from the mineral springs combined with the frigid waters of main stream to create a bath temperature that was pleasant enough so that we could get most of the smelly muck off of us! I went under for several attempts to unsuccessfully remove the last of the mineral glop from my hair until Oma stopped me saying,

"That will do for now Stephan. After we eat I'll grab the washtub from the wall and we'll have a proper scrub with the soap and brush to get the rest of the dirt and mud from us. Now let's see how the beer is coming along shall we?"

We left the stream and walked back to the hut. Inside we found the vat of beer still bubbling away on the stove. Oma fetched a spoon and gave things a taste. She nodded her head and let Tante Margarite sample some of the mushroom brew. My aunt smiled and licked her lips with a nod of agreement. It was ready.

My aunt grabbed me by the hand and conscripted me into the operation. We set about the task of hauling several small wooden kegs and casks up to the kitchen as Oma began to fill them using a funnel and a syphoning hose. Once the brew was emptied from the pot on the stove, my grandmother said another one of her incantations over the kegs assembled on the kitchen floor. Oma then pulled at an iron ring in the floor and lifted up a hatch to the root-cellar beneath us. She had me haul kegs down into the dark cramped cellar to allow them to lager and ferment while she and Tante Margarite prepared supper for us on the woodstove.

We ate a simple supper and then Oma had me haul water from the hot stream as she and Tante Margarite pulled the washtub down of the wall and set it in the grass beside the hut. Several bucket loads later and the tub was full of water that steamed in the cool night air. My grandmother the old witch then went to work, tapping the tub with her wand; causing it to grow and turning up the heat simultaneously.

Soon the three of us were splashing in an extremely large bath tub in lovely hot water and scrubbing one another with a soapy brush as it grew darker and darker on a cool April night on the mountain. A falling star streaked across the sky and we were all looking up for some reason and saw it. Tante Margarite commented that something important had happened. Grandmother nodded soberly,

"It could be something terrible or wonderful," she said scowling at the beautiful night sky as if she was trying to read it, "whatever it is, I'd say it means change." We then went back to scrubbing the last of the muddy glop from the hot spring out from our hair. When the last bit of grit and sediment was gone I started to rise from the bath.

"Wait," Oma said putting a hand on my chest. She pushed me back down to the soapy water saying,

"no need to get out just yet. There is plenty of night and plenty of hot water. The only thing we need is some liquid entertainment of a different sort!" She rose with a wink and stepped from the tub; leaving me and Tante Margarite there in the steam and soap scum. The old witch trotted into the house and in about five minutes, returned with three clay mugs and a small cask of the beer that we'd put down in the cellar.

During the time that Oma was gone, Tante Magarite turned to me in the bath and I felt a hand upon my cock down in the soapy depths. She began frigging me and biting her lip. There was a lewd expression on her face as if she were a beast in heat. The effect of my semen on her after only a couple of days was readily apparent. She was now clearly looking like a woman in her early forties and she had a libido to match!

She seized my face up in both her hands and pulled my mouth to hers. I leaned into the kiss and my hands came up to pinch and tweak at her breasts. After several seconds my aunt pulled away from me and asked,

"What would you like Stephan?"

"I want your ass Tante!" I said in a voice that even surprised me for its huskiness and its ardor. My confidence in my new skin (and my new role), was much stronger now. I was the ram; the head billy goat in the barnyard, and I wanted a female arse! I just happened to have one available at arms reach!

Tante Margarite nodded and gave me a breathless "Ja" as she spun around and gripped the sides of the tub. She jutted her arse out to the water in a bent-over crouched position. The tattoos on her back rippled with countless lustful scenes of debauchery and hedonism... too numerous to count! I seized up my cock in my hand, which felt like veiny stone and pushed the mushroom head against her anus. I grabbed my aunt by the hips and sank myself in up to the hilt as she gasped with a heartfelt shout of AAAAGGGGHHHH OOOOHHHH STEPHAN YESSS!

We fucked. It was a torrid nasty wonderful fuck under the Alpine stars with the high mountain peaks towering above us in the cool night. We were both moaning and grunting in rude bestial pleasure when my Oma stepped back into the tub with three mugs in her hands. Tante Margarite and stopped our rectal rutting for a moment but were met by protest by my grandmother.

"Oh don't stop on my account," she said, "I want to watch you both thrash like two wild beasts. Take these beers, they are guaranteed to toss fuel on that raging lust-fire you're feeling!" With that she passed us both a stein-mug and then sat back at her edge of the tub, sipping from her mug and beginning to rub herself between her legs and across her breasts.

Tante continued to bend over the edge of the tub and she wiggled her arse against me as if telling me to "get started again." We continued to rump-rut; Tante Margarite with her beer in her hand, taking sips now and then and me behind her, plowing my shaft deep into her gut as her tattoos danced and flew across her back!

"But Oma," I asked in-between deep strokes of my aunt's ass, "with the beer, how did you... I mean it takes weeks to...?" Oma cut me off interrupting and rolling her eyes.

"Stephan," she said with a chuckle, "if I can make a glass of water from an ice cold mountain stream become beer with one tap of a finger, I can most certainly make mushroom beer in short order from properly mixed ingredients that I prepared on and brewed on the top of a stove!"

"A lager spell UUNNNGGHH," my aunt grunted with my cock up inside her entrails as her own free hand now fiddled her sex, "its... a lager spell!"

"That's right," Oma said happily as she watched us, "I put a spell on one of the kegs to 'speed things up a bit faster.' Really all the spell does is make the brew rot at a faster rate. The spell is a country-cousin to those black spells that witches would cast to make crops fail or cattle die in the dark ages. Just like you can heal with a spell you can make things wither and die."

I nodded and took a sip in-between thrusts of my aunt's arse. It was beer alright! What's more, it made my cock which was already tilling my aunt's guts seem to snarl and rage (as a new even more powerful sexual energy and hunger seemed to well up from my loins)! Tante Margarite seemed to feel something too, and she slammed her haunches back upon me with each stroke; oblivious to any discomfort that might be inflicted upon her poor bottom! It was as if she had become lost in her own pure selfish carnal needs and pleasure had completely overridden pain for her!

"It is the spell of the mushrooms upon your senses," Oma observed as she feverishly rubbed between her own legs below the water, " you'll be able to spout your balls empty in her and then your cock will be hard as iron afterwards - watch and see!"

The old woman was right. In three minutes my aunt and I rutted our way to a screaming crescendo where I showered her insides with hot seed and she sobbed for joy; only to find that my cock was stiff and rigid as a hard stick of pine and ready to go immediately! I pulled out of my aunt and turned to my grandmother; spinning Oma around to render her the same torrid hard fuck in the arse that her daughter had just enjoyed! Oma screamed and urged me on shouting,

"Yes Stephan my lover ...take me and split me like a piece of firewood! AAGGHHHH!"

We fucked for several minutes in the tub as Tante Margarite rubbed herself in a lustful frenzy next to us. When at last I felt my seed rise from my loins I grunted and pushed into Oma's bottom hard; filling her with hot semen as she howled and screamed through her own crescendo! We were not done though... oh no! Not at all!

My cock still raged thanks to the mushroom beer (which we replenished our mugs with almost immediately)! We were in a complete sexual frenzy now as I remember. We three raced into the hut, swilling down our mugs upon arriving inside the kitchen. There was now carnal excitement sizzling through the air like electricity during a violent storm. Something was in the very wind and sky that night... and it was not just that we were now mad with the mushroom-beer ardor!

Oma had the presence of mind to retrieve the small keg of that wonderful lust-inspiring brew before we entered the house and as soon as our mugs were empty she filled them in between fits of horny giggles! As we were gulped from our mugs, she mentioned that tonight was the feast of Walpurgis, or Walpurgisnacht. It was also called Hexennacht or "night of the witches."

I knew what it was or thought I knew; since as a boy it had been a time to stay up as people lit bonfires all over Germany and "frightened away the spirits winter." There was food and parties and the like; making the whole affair sort of a loud picnic at night! What I didn't know was that it was more!

Oma explained that it was also for witches, a night of power. In the past on this night, great revelries had taken place in central Germany; up on Brocken mountain by hundreds of witches but none had taken place since the war had begun, (as it simply hand not been safe for "our kind," to assemble). Brocken mountain hadn't been used for a proper gathering for at least the last eight years and magic and healing had been localized or forced underground

It didn't matter now to us however. We were going to celebrate right there in the hut and in what better way, than to jump into bed and rut and fuck with reckless lustful abandon! We were fueled by a brew that was guaranteed to keep us from losing our ardor for many hours and the sheets were clean! Oma made the suggestion and Margarite and I nodded enthusiastically! We raced up the stares and flung ourselves upon the bed in a heap of snarling, groping, sucking, fingering, biting, fucking, furball of naked flesh!

I lost track of how many times I came inside those two sex-crazed women. I lost track of time as well. All I could remember is looking up at one point and seeing flashes of lightning outside our window; as the energy released by our frantic copulating had now whipped the heavens into a frenzy above our mountain! I heard crashes of thunder and saw brilliant electrical discharges as we continued to rut and fuck; kicking the bedclothes to the floor until there was merely a bare mattress and our three humping naked bodies atop it. We kept going and going and going; until at last after one particularly loud orgasmic release (where I thought the three of us would have brought the whole mountain down), my Oma raised her hand - bidding us to stop!

There was a stillness outside and Oma was looking up at the ceiling as though listening and sniffing for something that had disturbed or alerted her. Margarite looked up as well and seemed to be intently trying to detect something. Oma's facial expression changed from seriousness to exhilieration and she leaped from the bed an raced down the stairs; Tante Margarite close on her heels! I lay in a puddle of my own seed and the piddle-spendings from the two women; bewildered at the sudden change of plans. Nonetheless I got to my feet and hurried down the stairs to see what was happening.

I found Oma and Tante Margarite standing outside, staring at the night sky to the west above one of the high peaks. Their naked bodies hopped up and down excitedly and they pointed joyfully at something up in the blackness and stars that I simply could not make out. I stood next to the two women and asked what all the excitement was for.

"Keep watching Stephan," Oma replied happily. Out of the night sky I could now see several dark shapes. They were approaching us from over mountains at a very high rate of speed.

At first I wondered if we were safe. Could it be Allied aircraft? Should we run? I then realized there was no sound to be heard; no drone of engines - all quite strange! As the shapes broke over the tree-line at the far end of the alpine meadow I saw... legs? There were legs dangling down from the shapes and as they came closer I realized that I was now seeing at several witches; at least a dozen in all, circling our field and preparing to slow down to land.

Not ten seconds later they swooped in from the night sky; naked as the day they were born, and landed before us. Oma and Margarite stepped forward to see who it was and I walked behind them, feeling slightly apprehensive. Oma recognized the leader as she stepped from her broom and she flung her arms around the tall blonde woman who appeared to be in her late fifties or early sixties,

"ISOLDE! It's YOU! Its' YOU GIRL! Oh how are you?" Oma shouted jubilantly.

"I'm well Hilde," she said seriously enough but returning my grandmother's embrace. Oma looked at her face and saw that something serious was a foot as the tall blonde witch explained,

"We saw the flashes of light and fire in the sky above this mountain as we were traveling. We suspected it was you up here on the mountain. We wanted to find youl Now we have and at just the right time!"

"But why are you..?" Oma started to ask but she was interrupted by Isolde with,

"There is a witches gathering and it is of great importance. The fact that it happens on the night of power is only all the more critical! There is a great opportunity that all witches who have survived this terrible war must seize upon immediately. We would travel to Brocken Mountain for a proper gathering but it perhaps is not safe... we are therefore heading south and east along this range to the older meeting place at the Lattengebirge mountains...we are going to the mountains of the sleeping witch."

"But why," Oma asked,"would you go there? We havent used those mountains for a gathering place since before the Inquisition! What has happened?" The old blonde woman with her icy blue eyes looked at my grandmother with stone cold seriousness. I can still remember her words from that night in the cool night air as they came from her lips,

"Hitler is dead! We are collectively using all our power for something good. It is time to heal the land and the people after this dark time!"​