Alpine Hideaway Magic Ch. 05

The two women stroked my balls with their fingertips and ran their hands over my sleeping penis. The pipe was passed from person to person. The rain drizzled on and the thunder now became low grumbles far, far off beyond the mountain. Finally Oma broke the calm with an announcement sounding festive like a party was to start only her words were,

"I have to take a crap!" With that, she merrily hopped off the bed and headed into the toilet at the edge of the kitchen. Tante Margarite and I moved closer on the bed with her head on my shoulder, her hand rubbing and caressing my slumbering cock while my arm wrapped around her in an intimate post-fuck cuddle. We listened to the rain, we kissed, we listened to the rain some more.

The sound of the rain was suddenly punctuated by the loud wet fart of my Oma crapping with the door open. A second later a second "SQUONK!" of a wet fart left my grandmother and echoed against the bowl of the toilet followed a moment later by the sound of sound of a splash. Tante Margarite and I giggled and she said aloud,

"Mutti! I hear more thunder coming!" That got us both roaring on the bed with laughter. Oma grunted and pushed out another something with a loud splash replying,

"It's stinky thunder anyhow! No THAT my dears is the sound of a healthy bowel that now feels great! Stephan, you seed-spout up into my rear loosened everything up, I feel magnificent and empty and clean!"

"Any time Oma!" I answered.

"HE IS GOING TO SEND YOU A BILL FOR HIS PLUMMING SERVICE AND FOR HIS MEDICAL PROCEDURE!" shouted Margarite. She and I laughed again and even Oma giggled as we heard the commode flush. Tante Margarite then tapped me on the thigh.

"I have to crap young billy goat! Up with me and to the toilet!" I got up with her and we raced to the commode as I had to piss. I got to the door first and as I pointed my cock to the bowl after flipping up the seat. Tante Margarite reached from behind me to bat my hands away and steer my piss-wurst with HER hands just as I was about to let loose. She held my cock in her hands kissing my shoulders and presently I was able to make water as she cooed and said,

"Oh such a big boy, you are pissing like a horse you are! Tante's loves her nephew with his nice fat fuck-wurst! So nice, so very nice!" She held me and held me, kissing my back and making little tickling swirls with her tongue in the middle of my spine and creeping up to my shoulders until she found my neck. I had to reach down and put my hand upon her hands holding my cock because while she was kissing she wasn't aiming and she almost "steered us off the road" so to speak, but I was quick to react and my hand guided her back to the center and we suffered no accidents I am happy to say. I kept pissing and she kept kissing saying her little OH SO NICEs and SUCH A GOOD BOYs and TANTE LOVES HER LITTLE MANs!

Finally my stream went dry. Tante gave me a few shakes and then I flushed the commode. I started to walk off but my aunt grabbed me by the cock and made me stay while she dropped the seat, spun around, and sat down on the toilet. She began to suck on me while she took a steaming hot piss!

She fellated my cock back into something more or less hard and kept doing so as Oma walked over to the doorway to watch us; her hand tweaking her sex as her mouth puffed on her pipe and her daughter puffed upon mine! Presently my aunt ran out of piss and began to trickle a last few drops of piddle. She then squinted her eyes and strained as a loud TOOOOT of a fart sounded against the bowl! Oma and I chuckled. Oma kept her voice at a whisper saying,

"His cock did good things for you to Margarite? He loosened you up back there? Got things, going, yes?" Tante Margarite did not take her mouth off my cock but registered her reply with her eyes and nodded her head happily as she sucked and said MMMMM- HHHHMMM! in acknowledgement! She strained again and another fart produced a large splash in the bowl below her rump. I had a question for Oma,

"Oma, many of the magical people are like you and Tante Margarite? They enjoy lots of sex, yes?"

"Yes, that is true. Why do you ask?" replied Oma.

"Well, it's just that many of you seem to have relations with your relations, yes? You seem to fuck relatives and what-not, yes?

"That is true too. Go on," she said.

"Well, in school we learned that sex between relatives produces birth defects and stupidity amongst their offspring. Why is your family not rife with idiots and deformed bodies?

"Oh that is an excellent question Stephan!" she said as my aunt continued to crap and suck my cock in a scene most surreal and strange, "You see, with enchanted folk-first of all; not ALL practice incest. Many do but many do not. My father and mother did not but they were only half magical and they never developed the part of themselves that was magical. My Tante did (as did her son), my cousin Magnus. When magical people who are related copulate, they can combine powers like I told you earlier. If the copulation results in a pregnancy, the child will be normal but perhaps with even MORE powers than if the parents were not related. In some cases where magical people who are not related come together and copulate, the same is true; the magics can multiply and produce an offspring of great power as is the case of you!" I understood and I nodded my head.

"You could sire some incredibly powerful magic folk," Oma continued, "if you were bred to the right witch. If you bred with a cousin or aunt or even your mother that offspring would be normal but exceptionally powerful. Regardless of the level of power, magical folk do tend to have a certain higher level of sexual vigor you may discover."

"You mean we are always randy?"

"Like goats in the Spring!" she laughed, "Magical folk are always ready to rut and have a good horizontal time! With the strong power comes strong drives! Even non-enchanted people descended from magical folk, often report having especially strong sexual urges and drives well into their later years!"

Oma put her hand on my Aunt's head and looked down at her while she sucked me. Another fart and another splash were heard. I was beginning to get hard, and very aroused as Tante picked up the pace and intensity with her mouth. Oma blew smoke in my face from the pipe muttering another quick spell before kissing me while my aunt sat on the commode fellating me. I felt my balls recharge and my erection became painful as my Oma kissed me and my aunt's mouth became a sucking slurping hole of hungry greed! This went on for a few minutes until I felt my balls begin to quake again as Oma's spell pushed them forward to yet ANOTHER explosion. Oma locked her lips around mine and I was surprised at the intensity of this new orgasm as I was hit by a huge spasm that forced Oma to hold me upright and steady me as I howled and spouted hot fresh seed into my aunt's hungry feeding mouth! I sobbed and cried as I heard my aunt make loud gulping sounds. Finally we pulled away from our kiss and my Oma patted me on the butt looking down at my aunt saying,

"You're welcome Margarite! I just had a healing shot of his seed spout into your maw! Between what he has fired into all your holes you will feel ten years younger!" Oma walked to the kitchen to toss on her dress and fix some lunch. Tante Margarite kept sucking me until my rude root was clean. She pushed and strained again and there was a spattering sound in the bowl beneath her. She broke her suction of my cock and looked up at me to say,

"Your seed has made me a little loose back there! Its running right out of me! Such a naughty foul boy you are! I haven't been able to push out a crap this easily since I can't remember when!" We chuckled in the fouled atmosphere in the toilet. Our laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was a good thing Oma had dressed. She pushed the door to the toilet closed after slapping me on the arse and telling me to get in. I sat there on my Aunt's lap; both of us fearful what the knock could be. Could Grandmother's spell have failed with the Gestapo? We didn't know; we just cowered in the cramped toilet and listened.

Oma opened the door and to greet the person standing outside. We were relieved to hear the voice of a little boy telling us that his father's cow was ailing and we were needed. Oma said that she would gather her things and that she would be there right away. The front door closed, there was no danger. We were so relieved! The door flung open and Oma stood there before us.

"Lunch will have to wait for us. Get some clothes on you two! We have animals to see to the needs of!" With that she turned and went for her black medical bag. I hopped off my Tante's lap and she stole a kiss off my shoulder as I got up. She closed the door and finished the paperwork associated with her job while I went for my clothes. I was blowing out candles in the bedroom as she emerged and scooped up her dirndl and found her undergarments. We were a mess and we smelled of sex, but we were desperately needed apparently.

"Come on you two," said Oma "we haven't got all day! Raus!" She gave us both a swat on the ass as we exited the door after hurrying to get our shoes on. We were out the door and up the street to the village in no time. The rain had finally backed off to a fine mist. As we walked I could see Tante Margarite's sheep in the pasture, looking forlorn and sad like drowned rats. A little bit of blue in the clouds to the west indicated that the day would clear again and then the flock would be warm and dry once more. Oma told me to stop looking at the sheep and to hurry.

We arrived, at the farm and Oma greeted the farmer whose son had run to get us. He was an older man who had lost four sons in the war at various locations we would later learn. The young boy was the only son he had left. His wife was in the barn with the cow and the situation seemed serious. The farmer led us into the barn to see the problem.

The cow was off to one side of the barn standing in a stall with the farmer's wife staring at the animal, very concerned. Oma greeted the woman and entered the stall. She walked up to the animal, talking in soothing tones of reassurance. She placed a hand on the cow's side and patted the animal to let her know all would be well. The farmer's wife explained that the cow had been walking with a limp for three days now and that she was not giving milk. Oma looked around the stall and saw the droppings of the cow. She bent over them and sniffed, and then asked for pitchfork which the farmer fetched for her quickly.

She turned the cow dung over and over; observing the material and nodding her head. Handing the pitchfork back to the farmer, she then went to the head of the cow and looked up her nose and into her eyes; nodding in understanding of what she saw. Then she went to the cows udders and took a peek underneath; only to come up nodding her head. Lastly she looked at the cow's feet and she lifted each one to inspect the hooves. As she dropped the last hoof, she was now a series of nods; sure of what the misfortune was. She turned and looked at the farmer's wife,

"Frau Hertel," she asked, "may I please use your kitchen?" Frau Hertel promptly agreed. As we walked from the barn Oma said to me and Tante Margarite,

"I know what ails this cow. I will need your help while I boil up some things on the stove in the kitchen. Oma gave us a list of items to fetch back at her own kitchen and then with a swat on my rump she sent me and Tante Margarite to fetch what she required. We took about half an hour to find what Oma needed and then return to the Hertel family farm. We spread out the contents from Oma's cupboard on the table while Oma worked over a large pot on the stove.

She brought a second pot to boil and added ingredients from the items on the table. Reaching into her medical bag of holding, Oma produced a pestle and grindstone which she used to grind a few yellow roots up into a fine powder. She added them to the first pot. She then added a few desiccated mushrooms and lichens to the second pot and kept stirring.

The room began to smell particularly foul and noxious. It was a bit like sitting in a jar of medicine. Oma noticed this and had Frau Hertel open a few windows to get a draft going. Over the next forty-five minutes she stirred and stirred both pots; the atmosphere of the room becoming very pungent and smelly. Oma didn't seem to mind but just continued to add ingredients to the pots as we chatted and attempted to ignore the smell. Finally she checked the contents and deeming them ready, she took the contents of the first pot and added them to a clean jar. As for the second pot (which looked something akin to a black boiling tar), she asked the farmer to carry it to the barn. She also asked for a paint brush to be brought. Herr Hertal huffed and puffed as he carried the foul stinking tub of black porridge out to the barn.

Upon arriving back at the cow's stall, Oma had the pot set down on the straw and she picked up the cow's lame foot and had me hand her the paintbrush. She dabbed the brush in the smelly tar and then gave the hoof a liberal painting all around the hard cracked tissue. When she had applied what she thought was sufficient she dropped the cow's foot to the ground and turned to the farmer handing him the brush saying,

"It is hoof rot. Early stages. I have arrested the condition with that tarring but I want you to continue tarring that foot every day for two weeks. Now, the contents of that jar in the kitchen are for the milk problem. Take three spoonfulls and add them to her grain at each feeding. You should have milk in about five days." With that we were thanked by the Hertel's and we were paid with a jug of Herr Hertel's cider from the barn. We gathered up our supplies from the kitchen table and were about to leave the smelly kitchen we had stunk up with our medicine-making when a girl appeared at the door and asked Oma to come at once. We had another farm emergency.

And so it went; we went to another farm and helped a farmer whose chickens were not laying. Upon seeing the barnyard, Oma realized that the problem was the farmer's rooster. After inspecting the young cock, she found there was nothing wrong with him but for the fact that he was not fulfilling his obligations to shag all the hens in the barnyard rotten, and with regularity. She reached into her medical bag and handed the farmer some pills that she had put together with a little pill press back in her kitchen. She told the farmer to grind one of these pills up and put it in the rooster's feed. In about two days he should be rutting the hens ragged and then shortly there would be eggs again. The famer had no money at the moment. Oma looked around the barnyard and saw that the farmer DID have another rooster who was a little on the scrawny side of things...like he had been put together with odds and ends. Definitely he was anything but the alpha male of the barnyard and he would have barely passed for a beta! The farmer scratched his head and then agreed to give him in exchange.

I asked if he was going in the pot as I carried the scrawny rooster and Tante Margarite walked alongside us carrying the cider jug. Oma shook her head. She laughed saying,

"No, that rooster just needs the right feed and his feathers will come out and he will be big and strong. He will be a fine addition to our barnyard and he'll be fucking the hens hard in no time! He'll also give the hens something they need, which is a little variety! I feed that special pill ground up to my other rooster and he is a veritable satyr of the barnyard with the hens! It's a wonder they can sit down to lay!

We next were called upon to help a farming family whose plow horse was colicky. After that we were pulled across the road to help a family with a boy with a rash upon his arm. A poultice of herbs later, and following instructions to the boy's mother, we were on our way down the road to Oma's farm. The shadows were getting long and we would need to feed our animals soon. We guessed that lunch would be put on hold as Oma and Tante would try to cobble together a meager supper.

It was going to have to be postponed however, as a girl came riding up to us on a bicycle with tears in her eyes. She was frantic and had been looking for us all over the village. I noticed she was pretty and about nineteen years old but very distressed. She told us that her Mother, her Grandmother, and her older sister were all ill and she was greatly frightened for their welfare! We headed to the house as quickly as we could manage. The house lay on the outskirts of the village and Oma commented that quite frankly she did not get over that way very much.

We entered through a doorway to the home and the girl led us to a bedroom where the girl's grandmother lay in bed moaning and groaning. She then led us to another bedroom where her mother and sister lay in bed. It was the same story as in the first room; both women were moaning and groaning in great discomfort. Oma had gone from sick person to sick person and looked in their eyes and smelled their breath. Again with the head nods, she knew what it was.

"May I see your trash?" Oma asked the girl.

"Of course," the girl answered. She brought Oma out to a rubbish bin and Oma sifted through the meager garbage left by the family until she found what she was looking for.

"What did the family have for lunch today?" she asked the girl.

"My grandmother said she would be making soup," answered the girl.

"Did you have any?" Oma asked.

"Nein," she answered, "I was working at a farm up the road and I could not make it home for lunch. I ate with the family there."

"It may have saved your life and the lives of those inside," Oma answered, " you were able to not eat what made your family sick and you then were able to come get help. She held up an empty soup can with a large dent in it. The inside of the can showed foul streaks of rust inside and smelled of fouled food. Oma sent the girl to fetch a bucket of clean water and to but it to boil on the stove. She then turned to me and Tante whispering,

"I know those three women; the grandmother is Norma Antmuller. She is an old contemporary of mine from a long time ago. The mother is Marlene Antmuller."

"Marlene Antmuller!" Tante Margarite cried, "I could barely recognize her! I haven't seen her since..." Oma nodded and continued,

"The last one is Sabina Antmuller," she said, "she is the cruel woman who visited us yesterday with the two soldiers!" She said this more to me than to Tante Margarite. I had been standing back in the doorway as grandmother had been inspecting the patients and I had not really gotten a good look at anyone's faces but now I realized that the young girl fetching water in with haste did resemble the cruel woman with the tight blonde bun of hair. I asked Oma,

"What will you do Oma?"

"What will I do?" she said with eyes looking at me in disbelief, "I came here to heal this family and that is what I intend to do.

"But if that woman survives, she will report us!" I said.

"Keep your voice down, wooden head!" Oma snapped at me, "No she won't. The situation has turned a bit and past loyalties for Fatherland and patriotism have faded away like so much smoke on the wind! I can feel it. Everyone now is more concerned with where their next meal will come from and not about being a good party man. Everything up is now down for this town anyway! "

With that, she sent me to run back to the her house to get something she needed. She had the ingredients already in her bag and in sufficient quantities but I was to pick up a red leather doctor's bag from underneath the sink in the toilet room. She said I would know it as soon as I saw it. She was right. When I got to the farm house and looked under the sink, I saw a gaudy red leather physician's bag that was quite worn and threadbare. I snatched it up and raced to get back to the house on the opposite side of town.