Namelessredditor87 and ElizaFlame
Chapter 2
A Grand Idea
Morning dawned grim and gray and the Addams clan stirred slowly from its fitful slumber. Gomez was up with the sun, and he slipped out of bed and into his long robe silently, while the rest of the family was still waking. He pushed open the glass door that led to the adjacent balcony, stepped out, and surveyed the grounds.
From this vantage point, he could see across the whole expanse of the property. The sprawling ancestral cemetery, the putrid swampland rife with quicksand and dead trees, the treacherous ravine, the acres and acres of wasted earth, choked with rocks and weeds. He took a deep breath of thick, fetid air and sighed contentedly. He heard the faint pop of knuckles cracking at his side and felt a soft tug on the cuff of his silk pajama bottoms. Looking down he saw the family’s faithful hand Thing, perched on its fingertips by his slippered foot. “Good morning old man.”
Thing scuttled about to face the door and pointed his index finger. Gomez turned, following the gesture. Morticia was leaning against the doorframe, an odd smile on her face. She was dressed in a black nightgown, sheer enough that her ruby red nipples could be seen stiffening in the morning air. “Look at it Cara Mia, no blue, no green, no sun. Desolate wasteland as far as the eye can see. Paradise. Its beauty is rivaled only by yours.” He extended his hand and she took it, pulling herself into him.
“Gomez,” she said, placing her hand on his bare chest, “this morning, I woke and looked out the window. I saw the gray sunless sky, and I was overwhelmed. A wave of depression swept over me. It was wonderful. It was like all hope had left the world. All there was darkness and sorrow. Misère Noire.”
“Oh, Tish’…French.” Gomez said his eyes alight.
“Oui.”
He snarled gleefully and began to kiss her hand, working his way up her arm with his lips as he wrapped her arm around her waist. She could feel him beginning to harden against her thigh. As he reached the nape of her neck she slid her hand up to his back and into his hair. “Gomez?”
He stopped, with visible effort, and looked up at her, “Yes my darling?” He said, his voice rough and breathy. She ran her fingers down the side of his face.
“Hearing Wednesday last night, the youthful zeal in her cries of passion, I thought of when we first met.”
Gomez took a half step back, his eyes getting wide. “Balthazar’s funeral…”
“Seeing you standing there, by the open grave. Tall, dark, handsome. I asked Mama who that man was, with the mustache. She told me, Gomez Addams. I knew then I had to be yours.”
He slipped around her lithe body and took her into her arms. She could now feel his stiffness pressing against her buttocks. “You were so beautiful…pale under the moonlight. I was bewitched. I couldn’t even look at the corpse. The priest began to talk about the enormity of our grief and I slipped through the crowd towards you…”
She wriggled into him and leaned her head into his shoulder. “I was helpless. I felt your eyes probing me, exploring every inch of me, undressing me in your mind. You looked like a vulture eyeing a sickly fawn. I was yours for the taking…”
His hands slid upwards towards her breasts and pushed his body closer to hers, as he began to kiss her neck once more. “I came up behind you and whispered in your ear…”
“’ Excuse me, I’m Gomez Addams…and I can’t take my eyes off of you…’” She said, smiling at the memory. “And I said, ‘just your eyes?’”
“And then, before any other words were spoken my hands were all over you.” He turned her around and stared into her eyes.
“You took me. Right there. Tore my dress off and laid me on the ground. Mmm, and then you were inside me…”
“All the mourners turned to watch. Our moans drowned out the sounds of the eulogy.”
“You were a beast. A monster. It was terrifying. I loved it.” She writhed pushed her hips into his, loving to feel the bulge of his manhood rub against her slit.
“The rest of the night was a dream. We talked for hours. And explored our carnal desires together four more times…and at the climax of our passion, I asked you to be my wife.”
“And we took our dark vows the very next night, before the ancient crypt. Mmmm, to have been so young my love…if only we could go back to that night…just once.”
Gomez was kissing her shoulder and stopped midway. He pulled his head up and looked at her, exhilaration downing on his face. “Cara Mia, that is inspired… it is just brilliant! I’ve got to start right away…so much to do…so much to do!” And with that, he kissed her on the lips firmly and dashed off the balcony and into the house. Morticia stood bemused, staring at him as he zipped through the master bedroom and away.
She smiled curiously “well, I wonder what this could be?” She asked herself and then headed in herself to check on Pubert.
***
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the house, others were waking. In her bedroom, Wednesday’s eyes parted slowly. She was naked save for a pair of black panties and as she sat up, her pigtails fell over the orbs of her pallid, peach sized breasts. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she rose and examined the room. Clothing was still scattered across the floor and the candles beside her bed were burnt down to piles of wax.
She looked down and examined herself. Running her finger along her inner thigh and looked dispassionately down at the drops of viscous white cum slowly drying on her leg. Silently she crossed the room to a long shelf that ran along the wall covered with glass vials. She selected an empty one, uncorked it, and proceeded to drag it up her body, collecting as much of it as she could. Holding the bottle up to her face, she saw it was about half full of mingled semen and vaginal juices. That’d do.
Plugging the vial, she set it back down and waded back into the center of the room. Bending, she picked up a pair of black boxer briefs, laying amidst a discarded pair of tight jeans and a black death metal T-Shirt. She did not smile but felt a sense of deep satisfaction as she looked at them. She had always collected personal mementos. As a girl, she had kept all her baby teeth as they fell (or, preferably, were pulled) from her mouth. As she got older it was scabs, then her menstrual blood. Now the underwear.
She took two pushpins from the shelf and walk across the room to the far wall, where on another shelf, in a place of honor, sat her childhood doll, Marie Antoinette. Her head was placed between its legs. Next to that was a dildo. An ancient family heirloom, cunningly carved from ivory by her foremothers and inscribed with dark images and spells. Pinned to the wall above both where eleven pairs of men’s underwear. After she’d added the latest to her collection, she picked up an ink quill and in black letters scrawled above them, “JASON”. Stepping back, she looked the all over, running a hand down one of her braids and absently tweaking her nipple as she did. Twelve now. Almost thirteen. That was a good number.
She turned on her heel and went to her closet to get her bathrobe. As she slipped it over her shoulders, she pondered if Pugsley had been spying on her last night. She suspected he had. She was certain she’d caught of glimpse of his eyes in the wall two nights earlier. And she knew he had peeped on their parents. She didn’t care, really, and although she’d never tell him, the thought of his watching from the shadows somewhat turned her on. Besides, she’d get him back. She always did. As she went out of the room she paused to scoop up the remaining clothes from the floor. Heading down the hall to the bathroom, she stopped and dropped them down the shoot leading to the incinerator.
***
As Wednesday was adding to her collection, Pugsley was just waking up. He’d fallen asleep sprawled half on and half off his bed, and he opened his eyes reluctantly. His body ached viscously. When he moved, he felt his sore, chafed member half glued to his thigh by crusted cum. He was quite familiar with these conditions. He had masturbated twice while watching his sister fuck last night. Then he’d come back to his room done it again while reviewing his very own collection.
He rolled off the sheet and lurched onto the hardwood floor, yawning loudly as he did. His room bore all the traits of a typical fifteen-year-old boy, mountains of dirty clothes on the floor, and an overflowing wastebasket though there were some unusual additions. A collection of small animal skeletons lined a bookshelf in the corner. Mounted on the wall by the bed were dozens of Traffic signs, baring warnings like “STOP”, “RAILROAD CROSSING”, “BRIDGE OUT” and “SLOW CHILDREN”. On the other wall, were hundreds of vintage pornographic posters. There were black and white stills of women in lingerie, flappers from the roaring twenties exposing themselves, sexy half-naked pinups. They started on the floor and crept up the sloping wall to the ceiling.
At the foot of the bed, half-hidden by the clutter was an open trunk. Inside were stacks and stack of magazines and photographs. He’d been acquiring them gradually over the years since he was twelve. In there were classic bondage and fetish depictions. Whips, paddles, dildos, and more. All manner of perversion was on display. Many were antiques. A large number of which were members of the family. Over the years many Addams’ had posed for erotic artwork. His absolute favorites though, were a collection of 1964 Dark Desires magazines, featuring Mother Addams. Those had been what he’d gone to last night.
He stretched and ran his hands through his short sandy hair. As his eyes drifted across the posters on the wall down to the open trunkload of filth he found himself recalling last night and he snickered to himself. His aching cock began to stir and he sat back down on the foot of the bed and began to fish through the stacks. His mind’s eyes flickered with images. Wednesday’s face twisting in pleasure while a pumping cock pounded into her. His mother on her back, her legs on father’s shoulders, screaming as he plowed into her. He, himself was still embarrassingly a virgin, but he’d seen more in the way of debauchery than those twice his age.
He had just selected a magazine and was laying it out over his lap when his head perked up at the sound of the door down the hall closing. Wednesday was up. Headed for the bathroom. She’d be taking her shower. And of course, he knew the way through the passageways that led behind the bathroom walls. His mind buzzed. The thought of her standing naked in the claw foot metal tub, water pouring over her, lathering her body, her hands on her breasts and nipples and pussy, made his half-dead shaft spring back to life.
He followed her footsteps as the turned the corner. After a moment’s consideration, he dropped the mag back into the trunk and stood up. He darted across the room with surprising speed for a husky young man. He slid his fingers into the trapdoor in the floor and pulled it up. He dropped into the tunnel and started to move just as the water began to flow through the rusty old pipes.
***About an hour after waking, the family drifted down to the kitchens where Grandma Hester was laying out the plates for breakfast. Fester arrived and slide his bulk into a chair behind the long oaken table. “Morning,” Hester said in her raspy voice, as she dropped a plate in front of him and slathered a spoonful noxious gray sludge onto it. It wriggled slowly. “Mm, morning,” Fester muttered tiredly as he began to shovel forkfuls into his mouth. She was pouring him a cup of thick, oily tea, billowing steam when Morticia arrived, now dressed in her tight black dress and carrying a squirming three-year-old in her arms.
“Ooooh!” Hester said, tossing her cooking pot casually aside and walking over to her daughter, “how’s my big boy this morning?” She began to tickle his nose with her nubby finger. Pubert smiled back at her. He was dressed in a miniature pinstripe, suite his fine black hair was slicked back, and a tiny, pencil-thin mustache curled over his cheeks still plush with baby fat.
“Mmm, the little beast wet his bed again last night,” Morticia said fondly.
“Hehe, is that right? Did the little monster wet his bed?” Hester asked, pinching his cheeks.
Pubert giggled. “Yea, gramma. Gotta rash.”
“Hmm, that’s a right dear one,” Morticia said stroking his hair as he set him in his high chair at the table, “a nice little rash on your bottom, isn’t that lovely?”
She sat down beside him. “Mama, have you seen Gomez this morning? He dashed out of the room in a state right after I woke up.” She asked, breaking off a piece of stale, tough bread, and resting her head on her hand. Hester shook her head.
“He hasn’t been down here.” She said ladling out heaping servings of muck onto there plates.
”He was in the study with Thing last I saw him.” Fester said, Merrily, making faces and waving at Pubert. Morticia raised her eyebrow quizzically, wondering all this could mean, and casually glanced down at her son. The boy was carefully starting to spoon food into his mouth
“Pubert, play with it before you eat it.” She corrected him softly.
“Kay mudder.” The toddler said, happily dropping the spoon to the table and sticking his pudgy fingers into the ooze on his plate and began to playfully hurl fistfuls of it across the table at Fester. Fester made a show of dodging it, laughing as he did.
As this was going on, Wednesday and Pugsley were headed downstairs, her in a drab, button-down black dress with a stiff white collar and tidy black pants, him in a black and white striped T-shirt and dark short pants. On the top step, Wednesday shoved her hand deep into his back. He gasped, whirled his hands to steady himself, and failed. He tumbled forward to head over heels as Wednesday walked primly behind him watching him go all the way down. When he sprawled onto the floor, she walked over him, making sure to rub her heel into the back of his head as she did.
Pugsley rose slowly and dusted himself off, rubbing his already sore crotch, but otherwise no worse for the wear. They eventually got to the table, where Hester had already laid out plates for them. “Hello, Children,” Morticia said, dipping a hunk of the bread onto her plate.
“Hello, Mother.” They said in unison. Before sitting, Wednesday walked over to her Grandmother.
“Here Grandma.” She Held out the glass vial full of a specimen she had collected earlier. Hester’s eyes gleamed as she held the vial up to the light.
“Splendid! Splendid!” She exclaimed and patted Wednesday on the shoulder. As he was sitting down, Pugsley leaned over into Fester’s hear and placed his hand over her mouth. He whispered something and as he spoke fester began to giggle, casting his eyes over to Wednesday as she sat down on the other side of him.
Morticia gave them a wry smile. “What are you two whispering about?” She asked coyly. Fester looked at her, shaking his head.
“Oh, nothing,” Fester said, stifling more laughter at looking over at Pugsley mischievously.
“Mmm. So, how was everyone’s evening?“
Fester shrugged and muttered, “It was fine. I stopped breathing twice while I was asleep.”
Pugsley was silent, just smiling cheekily to himself and snickered some more. Hester was sitting down at the far end of the table and beginning to stab at her meal with her fork. “Found a few new recipes I’ll want to try. “
Wednesday swallowed a mouthful of food. “I had sex.”
“Lovely dear,” Morticia said, “Who with?”
Wednesday gave a small shrug, “Does it matter?”
Morticia smiled, pleased by her daughter’s coldness. “And how was he?”
“Hard.”
At that moment Gomez burst into the room, a man-shaped ball of energy, beaming broadly, Thing perched on his shoulder. Everyone turned to stare at him as he bounded up to the head of the table. “Everyone! I have an announcement!”
“What is it, Father?” Pugsley asked.
“Bad news?” Hester suggested excitedly.
“Darling, tell us.”
“Family! Morticia has given me a grand idea!” He fell to his knee and took Tish’s hand into his. “Cara Mia, in one month we will celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary. To honor the occasion, we’ll be hosting the entire family. A magnificent affair with food, dancing, debasement. And then at the stroke of midnight, we shall renew our dark vows before the entire clan!” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Mmm, that is if you will have me, my love.”
“Oh, Mon Cher!” Morticia said delighted, running her hand over his cheek. “To go back to the night we met. The boy…”
“The girl…” Gomez said kissing her hand again.
“The open grave.”
Chapter 2
A Grand Idea
Morning dawned grim and gray and the Addams clan stirred slowly from its fitful slumber. Gomez was up with the sun, and he slipped out of bed and into his long robe silently, while the rest of the family was still waking. He pushed open the glass door that led to the adjacent balcony, stepped out, and surveyed the grounds.
From this vantage point, he could see across the whole expanse of the property. The sprawling ancestral cemetery, the putrid swampland rife with quicksand and dead trees, the treacherous ravine, the acres and acres of wasted earth, choked with rocks and weeds. He took a deep breath of thick, fetid air and sighed contentedly. He heard the faint pop of knuckles cracking at his side and felt a soft tug on the cuff of his silk pajama bottoms. Looking down he saw the family’s faithful hand Thing, perched on its fingertips by his slippered foot. “Good morning old man.”
Thing scuttled about to face the door and pointed his index finger. Gomez turned, following the gesture. Morticia was leaning against the doorframe, an odd smile on her face. She was dressed in a black nightgown, sheer enough that her ruby red nipples could be stiffening in the morning air. “Look at it Cara Mia, no blue, no green, no sun. Desolate wasteland as far as the eye can see. Paradise. Its beauty is rivaled only by yours.” He extended his hand and she took it, pulling herself into him.
“Gomez,” she said, placing her hand on his bare chest, “this morning, I woke and looked out the window. I saw the gray sunless sky, and I was overwhelmed. A wave of depression swept over me. It was wonderful. It was like all hope had left the world. All there was darkness and sorrow. Misère Noire.”
“Oh, Tish’…French.” Gomez said his eyes alight.
“Oui.”
He snarled gleefully and began to kiss her hand, working his way up her arm with his lips as he wrapped her arm around her waist. She could feel him beginning to harden against her thigh. As he reached the nape of her neck she slid her hand up and around his back and into his hair. “Gomez?”
He stopped, with visible effort, and looked up at her, “Yes my darling?” He said, his voice rough and breathy. She ran her fingers down the side of his face.
“Hearing Wednesday last night, the youthful zeal in her cries of passion, I thought of when we first met.”
Gomez took a half step back, his eyes getting wide. “Balthazar’s funeral…”
“Seeing you standing there, by the open grave. Tall, dark, handsome. I asked Mama who that man was, with the mustache. She told me, Gomez Addams. I knew then I had to be yours.”
He slipped around her lithe body and took her into her arms. She could now feel his stiffness pressing against her buttocks. “You were so beautiful…pale under the moonlight. I was bewitched. I couldn’t even look at the corpse. The priest began to talk about the enormity of our grief and I slipped through the crowd towards you…”
She wriggled into him and leaned her head into his shoulder. “I was helpless. I felt your eyes probing me, exploring every inch of me, undressing me in your mind. You looked like a vulture eyeing a sickly fawn. I was yours for the taking…”
His hands slid upwards towards her breasts and pushed his body closer to hers, as he began to kiss her neck once more. “I came up behind you and whispered in your ear…”
“’ Excuse me, I’m Gomez Addams…and I can’t take my eyes off of you…’” She said, smiling at the memory. “And I said, ‘just your eyes?’”
“And then, before any other words were spoken my hands were all over you.” He turned her around and stared into her eyes.
“You took me. Right there. Tore my dress off and laid me on the ground. Mmm, and then you were inside me…”
“All the mourners turned to watch. Our moans drowned out the sounds of the eulogy.”
“You were a beast. A monster. It was terrifying. I loved it.” She writhed pushed her hips into his, loving to feel the bulge of his manhood rub against her slit.
“The rest of the night was a dream. We talked for hours. And explored our carnal desires together four more times…and at the climax of our passion, I asked you to be my wife.”
“And we took our dark vows the very next night, before the ancient crypt. Mmmm, to have been so young my love…if only we could go back to that night…just once.”
Gomez was kissing her shoulder and stopped midway. He pulled his head up and looked at her, exhilaration downing on his face. “Cara mia, that is inspired… it is just brilliant! I’ve got to start right away…so much to do…so much to do!” And with that, he kissed her on the lips firmly and dashed off the balcony and into the house. Morticia stood bemused, staring at him as he zipped through the master bedroom and away.
She smiled curiously “well, I wonder what this could be?” She asked herself and then headed in herself to check on Pubert.
***
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the house, others were waking. In her bedroom, Wednesday’s eyes parted slowly. She was naked save for a pair of black panties and as she sat up, her pigtails fell over the orbs of her pallid, peach sized breasts. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she rose and examined the room. Clothing was still scattered across the floor and the candles beside her bed were burnt down to piles of wax.
She looked down and examined herself. Running her finger along her inner thigh and looked dispassionately down at the drops of viscous white cum slowly drying on her leg. Silently she crossed the room to a long shelf that ran along the wall covered with glass vials. She selected an empty one, uncorked it, and proceeded to drag it up her body, collecting as much of it as she could. Holding the bottle up to her face, she saw it was about half full of mingled semen and vaginal juices. That’d do.
Plugging the vial, she set it back down and waded back into the center of the room. Bending, she picked up a pair of black boxer briefs, laying amidst a discarded pair of tight jeans and a black death metal T-Shirt. She did not smile but felt a sense of deep satisfaction as she looked at them. She had always had collected personal mementos. As a girl, she had kept all her baby teeth as they fell (or, preferably, were pulled) from her mouth. As she got older it was scabs, then her menstrual blood. Now the underwear.
She took two pushpins from the shelf and walk across the room to the far wall, where on another shelf, in a place of honor, sat her childhood doll, Marie Antoinette. Her head was placed between its legs. Next to that was a dildo. An ancient family heirloom, cunningly carved from ivory by her foremothers and inscribed with dark images and spells. Pinned to the wall above both where eleven pairs of men’s underwear. After she’d added the latest to her collection, she picked up an ink quill and in black letters scrawled above them, “JASON”. Stepping back, she looked the all over, running a hand down one of her braids and absently tweaking her nipple as she did. Twelve now. Almost thirteen. That was a good number.
She turned on her heel and went to her closet to get her bathrobe. As she slipped it over her shoulders, she pondered if Pugsley had been spying on her last night. She suspected he had. She was certain she’d caught of glimpse of his eyes in the wall two nights earlier. And she knew he had peeped on their parents. She didn’t care, not really, and although she’d never tell him, the thought of his watching from the shadows somewhat turned her on. It sent a shudder of excitement right to her core. Besides, she’d get him back. She always did. As she went out of the room she paused to scoop up the remaining clothes from the floor. Heading down the hall to the bathroom, she stopped and dropped them down the shoot leading to the incinerator.
***
As Wednesday was adding to her collection, Pugsley was just waking up. He’d fallen asleep sprawled half on and half off his bed, and he opened his eyes reluctantly. His body ached viscously. When he moved, he felt his sore, chafed member half glued to his thigh by crusted cum. He was quite familiar with these conditions. He had masturbated twice while watching his sister fuck last night. Then he’d come back to his room done it again while reviewing his private collection.
He rolled off the sheet and lurched onto the hardwood floor, yawning loudly as he did. His room bore all the traits of a typical fifteen-year-old boy, mountains of dirty clothes on the floor, and an overflowing wastebasket though there were some unusual additions. A collection of small animal skeletons lined a bookshelf in the corner. Mounted on the wall by the bed were dozens of Traffic signs, baring warnings like “STOP”, “RAILROAD CROSSING”, “BRIDGE OUT” and “SLOW CHILDREN”. On the other wall, were hundreds of vintage pornographic posters. There were black and white stills of women in lingerie, flappers from the roaring twenties exposing themselves, sexy half-naked pinups. They started on the floor and crept up the sloping wall to the ceiling.
At the foot of the bed, half-hidden by the clutter was an open trunk. Inside were stacks and stack of magazines and photographs. He’d been acquiring them gradually over the years since he was twelve. In there were classic bondage and fetish depictions. Whips, paddles, dildos, and more. All manner of perversion was on display. Many were antiques. Over the years many Addams’ had posed for erotic artwork. Most of his collection was of his own family. His absolute favorites though, were his collection of 1964 Dark Desires magazines, featuring Mother Addams. Those had been what he’d gone to last night.
He stretched and ran his hands through his short sandy hair. As his eyes drifted across the posters on the wall down to the open trunkload of filth he found himself recalling last night and he snickered to himself. His aching cock began to stir and he sat back down on the foot of the bed and began to fish through the stacks. His mind’s eyes flickered with images. Wednesday’s face twisting in pleasure while a pumping cock pounded into her. His mother on her back, her legs on father’s shoulders, screaming as he plowed into her. He, himself, was still embarrassingly a virgin, but he’d seen more in the way of debauchery than those twice his age.
He had just selected a magazine and was laying it out over his lap when his head perked up at the sound of the door down the hall closing. Wednesday was up. Headed for the bathroom. She’d be taking her shower. And of course, he knew the way through the passageways that led behind the bathroom walls. His mind buzzed. The thought of her standing naked in the claw foot metal tub, water pouring over her, lathering her body, her hands on her breasts and nipples and pussy, made his half-dead shaft spring back to life.
He followed her footsteps as the turned the corner. After a moment’s consideration, he dropped the mag back into the trunk and stood up. He darted across the room with surprising speed for a husky young man. He slid his fingers into the trapdoor in the floor and pulled it up. He dropped into the tunnel and started to move just as the water began to flow through the rusty old pipes.
***About an hour after waking, the family drifted down to the kitchens where Grandma Hester was laying out the plates for breakfast. Fester arrived and slide his bulk into a chair behind the long oaken table. “Morning,” Hester said in her raspy voice, as she dropped a plate in front of him and slathered a spoonful noxious gray sludge onto it. It wriggled slowly. “Mm, morning,” Fester muttered tiredly as he began to shovel forkfuls into his mouth. She was pouring him a cup of thick, oily tea, billowing steam when Morticia arrived, now dressed in her tight black dress and carrying a squirming three-year-old in her arms.
“Ooooh!” Hester said, tossing her cooking pot casually aside and walking over to her daughter, “how’s my big boy this morning?” She began to tickle his nose with her nubby finger. Pubert smiled back at her. He was dressed in a miniature pinstripe, suite his fine black hair was slicked back, and a tiny, pencil-thin mustache curled over his cheeks still plush with baby fat.
“Mmm, the little beast wet his bed again last night,” Morticia said fondly.
“Hehe, is that right? Did the little monster wet his bed?” Hester asked, pinching his cheeks.
Pubert giggled. “Yea, gramma. Gotta rash.”
“Hmm, that’s a right dear one,” Morticia said stroking his hair as he set him in his high chair at the table, “a nice little rash on your bottom, isn’t that lovely?”
She sat down beside him. “Mama, have you seen Gomez this morning? He dashed out of the room in such a state right after I woke up.” She asked, breaking off a piece of stale, tough bread, and resting her head on her hand. Hester shook her head.
“He hasn’t been down here.” She said ladling out heaping servings of muck onto there plates.
”He was in the study with Thing last I saw him.” Fester said, Merrily, making faces and waving at Pubert. Morticia raised her eyebrow quizzically, wondering all this could mean, and casually glanced down at her son. The boy was carefully starting to spoon food into his mouth
“Pubert, play with it before you eat it.” She corrected him softly.
“Kay mudder.” The toddler said, happily dropping the spoon to the table and sticking his pudgy fingers into the ooze on his plate and began to playfully hurl fistfuls of it across the table at Fester. Fester made a show of dodging it, laughing as he did.
As this was going on, Wednesday and Pugsley were headed downstairs, her in a drab, button-down black dress with a stiff white collar and tidy black pants, him in a black and white striped T-shirt and dark short pants. On the top step, Wednesday shoved her hand deep into his back. He gasped, whirled his hands to steady himself, and failed. He tumbled forward, his head going over heels as Wednesday walked primly behind him watching him go all the way down. When he sprawled onto the floor, she walked over him, making sure to rub her heel into the back of his head as she did.
Pugsley rose slowly and dusted himself off, rubbing his already sore off, but otherwise no worse for the wear. They eventually got to the table, where Hester had already laid out plates for them. “Hello, Children,” Morticia said, dipping a hunk of the bread onto her plate.
“Hello, Mother.” They said in unison. Before sitting, Wednesday walked over to her Grandmother.
“Here Grandma.” She Held out the glass vial full of a specimen she had collected earlier. Hester’s eyes gleamed as she held the vial up to the light.
“Splendid! Splendid!” She exclaimed and patted Wednesday on the shoulder. As he was sitting down, Pugsley leaned over into Fester’s hear and placed his hand over her mouth. He whispered something and as he spoke fester began to giggle, casting his eyes over to Wednesday as she sat down on the other side of him.
Morticia gave them a wry smile. “What are you two whispering about?” She asked coyly. Fester looked at her, shaking his head.
“Oh, nothing,” Fester said, stifling more laughter at looking over at Pugsley mischievously.
“Mmm. So, how was everyone’s evening?“
Fester shrugged and muttered, “It was fine. I stopped breathing twice while I was asleep.”
Pugsley was silent, just smiling cheekily to himself and snickered some more. Hester was sitting down at the far end of the table and beginning to stab at her meal with her fork. “Found a few new recipes I’ll want to try. “
Wednesday swallowed a mouthful of food. “I had sex.”
“Lovely dear,” Morticia said, “Who with?”
Wednesday gave a small shrug, “Does it matter?”
Morticia smiled, pleased by her daughter’s coldness. “And how was he?”
“Hard.”
At that moment Gomez burst into the room, a man-shaped ball of energy, beaming broadly, Thing perched on his shoulder. Everyone turned to stare at him as he bounded up to the head of the table. “Everyone! I have an announcement!”
“What is it, Father?” Pugsley asked.
“Bad news?” Hester suggested excitedly.
“Darling, tell us.”
“Family! Morticia has me a grand idea!” He fell to his knee and took Tish’s hand into his. “Cara Mia, in one moth’s time we will celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary. To honor the occasion, we’ll be hosting the entire family. A magnificent affair with food, dancing, debasement. And then at the stroke of midnight, we shall renew our dark vows before the entire clan!” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Mmm, that is if you will have me, my love.”
“Oh, Mon Cher!” Morticia said delighted, running her hand over his cheek. “To go back to the night we met. The boy…”
“The girl…” Gomez said kissing her hand again.
“The open grave.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ifs9qt/the_addams_family_chronicles_ch2