I was originally just going to post the sneeze except I mentioned the other day, but I am genuinely really proud of this story, so fuck it, I'm posting the whole thing lol.
The synopsis, which I touched on when I introduced Kimberly Croft here, is her scamming some downtrodden pig triplets by selling land that doesn't belong to her, then blowing down the houses they built to steal the valuables they have. It's based on this specific version of the Three Little Pigs from 1999, which has probably THE most overblown huff and puff sequences of any adaptation. Like whoever storyboarded this must have been into something.
In short: lots of boobs, lots of blowing, one moment of sneezing. Also it's the longest thing I've ever written lmao.
In a clearing tucked away in a nice stretch of woods stood a house. Or rather, what remained of it. The walls were charred and the air was heavy with the whispers of smoke. And stood in front of the blackened mess were three dejected pig girls, triplets for that matter.
Tasha, Sasha and Elliot had lived there for three years. It was their little wooden sanctuary, the place where they had been well and truly forced to tolerate and bond with each other. But on this one fateful morning, cool and crisp, an accident involving a lantern had sealed its fate. The flames had grown out of control, and no amount of Tasha’s screaming, Sasha’s blowing or Elliot’s spraying had quelled it. And now the three shifted outside, their silvery hair rustling in the solemn, smokey breeze, lamenting the event. From the infernal onslaught, they had managed to salvage some valuables, and were now hauling them into a wagon, deciding the cause lost.
“I just…can’t believe it’s all gone,” mumbled a tearful Tasha.
“This can’t possibly get any worse,” Sasha began, “like I refuse to entertain the notion that this could get any worse. If it does, we genuinely might as well be dead. Dead and buried and wasting away in the grou-”
Elliot placed a delicate hand on her shoulder. “Come on, guys. We’ll find somewhere else. I’m sure of it.”
She wasn’t that sure of it.
The catastrophe was exacerbated by a grave illness that had befallen their oddly generous landlord, Sharon Urswell. A bear woman who boasted a frighteningly towering figure (a whole 7’8). Her reputation preceded her: a landlady who owned respectable swathes of farmland and riverside greenery. A stern, domineering personality who could yell the ears off a fox and had zero patience for foolishness. But now, she was groggily wrapped up, aching, barely able to get up, looking like an absolute mess as her husband, Lawrence, tended to her the best he could. She was too weak to even lift her arms that much. Each tick of the clock that hung on the wall opposite felt ten times as loud as they actually were. Her short black hair, usually curled to perfection, now spread frazzled about her face.
The culprit was a strange green elixir she had bought just yesterday from a Dr. Cassandra Cole, a pastel blonde wolf woman with a nasal voice, dressed sharply in a turtleneck top and white lab coat, looking every bit the part of a proper, educated professional. Sharon had lately been itching far more than usual, growing more agonising by the day, and had sought out something, anything, that could ease it. She somehow hadn’t noticed the sly smile or the glint of mischief in Dr. Cole’s eyes. Maybe it was the desperation, but her suspicions simply weren’t raised. And she paid dearly for it. Both figuratively and literally, as the elixir cost her two hundred and seventeen crowns.
Back at the burned house, the pig sisters prepared to set off for somewhere, anywhere, where they could start anew. Downcast, melancholy, packing their belongings into various bags and boxes and loading them onto the wagon. What they didn’t realise, is that someone was watching them. Crouching behind a bush at the edge of the small clearing was Cassandra Cole, or at least that was one of the names she employed. Donning a long trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses, she watched keenly, observant, thinking about just how valuable that stash must be. And how much she could make if she could only sell it. The wolfess turned away slightly, smirking at the nefarious thought.
As the three sadly withdrew, the wolf began her journey homeward. The whole time, she thought of ways she could get her hands on that load. An intricate plan hatched in her head. She knew just what to do. Upon arriving at her house and swinging open the door, she stretched hard, cracked her fingers, and looked at herself in the hallway mirror. Stunning as ever, of course. It was time for yet another wardrobe dive, and there was a lot of wardrobe to dive in.
You see, Cassandra’s collection of clothes was truly enormous, taking up the equivalent of five average-sized rooms in the run-down but spacious home she lived in. Seventeen distinct styles of jacket, fifty-two different shirts, twenty-three styles of glasses, thirty hats, and even nine different leotards, among other things. She had dyed her hair a whole deal of shades, and had mastered so many voices and accents that, had she picked a more honest career path, she could’ve been her own June Foray. But she didn’t want an honest career. Deeply dissatisfied with her living standards, she saw the scam life as the quickest way out. And, above all else, propagating misery had always brought her joy.
Hours passed. The pig triplets trudged through a lush wood, hauling their belongings and looking both downcast and weary. They had taken turns pulling the wagon, though Tasha had been chosen to do it the most, as if to make up for her general lack of effort. They had no idea where to turn, and all three were longing for a ray of hope to burst through the turbulent storm of anguish.
As the pigs turned a corner, they were met with the sight of a wolf. Tall, sharp, sporting a friendly smile and carrying a briefcase. She wore a yellow suit with a gold tie and skirt, and there was a look in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they wanted. The triplets paused, huddling, as the well-dressed stranger took a small step forward and spoke in a weirdly sultry manner, bordering on seductive, though it was close to how she naturally sounded.
“Hello there! My name’s Christina Crane. What would your names be?”
Elliot steeled herself. “Are…are you gonna…". “Uh, hello…Christina. Um…I’m Elliot, this is Tasha, and this is Sasha. Who are you?”
“I work in real estate! I heard about what happened to your old place, and I’m so, so sorry that happened.”
“We lost everything. I mean, even if we technically didn’t,” replied Tasha, gesturing to the wagon, “it sure feels that way.”
Christina placed a hand over her great bust and shook her head. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”
“Oh god.” began Sasha, worked up once again. “Apart from the despair, we are so unbelievably tired right now. We’ve been walking nowhere for ages, we’ve eaten jackshit, and we have no idea how to restart. We’ve barely got anything to restart with! And our landlady can’t even do anything because apparently she’s extremely sick! The amount of things going wrong at the exact same time is stressing me the fuck out!”
Elliot comforted her talkative sister. Christina had internally cackled at the mention of Sharon, but kept up her sympathetic facade.
“You know, if you’re looking for somewhere to start anew, which I assume you are, I can sell you some land.”
“You can?” the trio replied in unison.
“I wouldn’t have my job if I couldn’t, sillies. Come with me.”
Motioning with her hand, Christina turned around and began a jovial, almost swaggering walk down the path, the pig sisters cautiously in tow. They didn’t know where she was taking them, and whether they’d regret following in her leisurely footsteps, but it had gotten to the point where they’d do anything for a place to rest. The wolf and the pigs would soon arrive at a beautiful, picturesque stretch of land: grassland dotted with trees, low green hills, and taller, more rugged hills at the very edge. In the center of it all was a calm, glistening teal lake. The triplets had to take a moment to fully absorb what they were seeing. Their eyes were wide and their jaws hung just a bit. Christina saw their expressions and her eyes narrowed in a knowing manner. The pigs didn’t see this, of course.
“I’m willing to give you all of this,” said the wolf woman, even more silky than before, “I mean it. Everything you can see in front of you. I’m willing to give you that.”
“Really? Like…you’re selling us everything in front of us? Every last bit of it?” Tasha asked.
Elliot was about to chide Tasha for repeating what Christina had very clearly just said, but she couldn’t believe any more than her sister.
“Well you see, I feel very, very sorry for you right now. People, you know, tend to be a lot more generous when they’re sympathetic. I wouldn’t usually do this, but for you, I gladly will.”
The three stood there quietly, touched by this response. Sasha broke the stillness.
“Okay but here’s the thing, Christina. We barely have money. At all. And, heh, you…you can’t really sell land, let alone all of this, to someone with only…with uh…how much do we have again?”
Elliot rummaged in the bag slung over her shoulder for her purse. She opened it, and I kid you not, dear reader, a fly buzzed out of it.
Christina rubbed her chin, studying her “clients” carefully. “Nine…hmmm…yeah, I’ll take it! Nine for the whole lot.”
Six eyes before her widened so far they seemed fit to roll out.
“Again, you’re in a bad place right now. Nothing wrong with a little generosity. Or a lot!”
Tasha, overcome with emotion, rushed forward and embraced the well-dressed wolf woman in the tightest hug she had ever given. Those grand endowments were right in her face, but she didn’t care. Christina, for her part, chuckled and lovingly stroked Tasha’s back.
Elliot soon noticed a large wooden sign nearby, down the path. On it read, “Property of Sharon Urswell.”
“Um, guys, I think Sharon owns this land,” she said, gesturing to the sign, “probably not a good idea to just mov-”
“You think I don’t know her?” Christina cheerfully interrupted. “Hell, I work for her! She gave me full authority to transfer this land to you!”
The wisest pig sister paused. “Oh. I see.”
With this revelation, the three once again thanked the wolf woman before beginning to venture down into the tranquil oasis that would be their new home. Quite the trek from town, but a beautiful place they simply couldn’t turn down. As they left, Christina watched them with a smirk and a shake of her head, before slinking back into the woods. Soon, the pigs were standing around in a cosy looking pocket of the oasis, with a fair bit of shade.
“Right,” Elliot barked, arms akimbo, “we need to build a new, sturdy home. Right now.”
While Sasha looked off into space, Tasha tiredly trudged towards a large pile of hay not too far away. It had all been dumped there some months before, its purpose uncertain.
“Tasha, where the hell are you going?”
“Look, Ellie”, began a visibly knackered Tasha, “I’m tired as shit. I’ve- we’ve been walking around for hours through the woods. I’m just gonna make something out of this nice, comfy hay over here and get some rest. Is that too much to ask?”
Elliot was incredulous. “We can’t build a home out of that!”
“If you don’t want to join me, that’s fine, but I’m staying riiight here~,” Tasha hummed in satisfaction as she nuzzled the soft hay. Elliot wanted to argue more, she really did, but all that slipped forth was a low, resigned groan.
“Fine, suit yourself. Just, please, try not to die. I know you. You’re not the most independent sort.”
With that, Sasha and Elliot continued on the way, traversing the land they had every right to believe now belonged to them. Tasha continued to stroke the hay with her face for a while, before getting up and slowly beginning to lift and move stacks of it. She wasn’t entirely devoid of skills; she had known how to put a shoddy hut together since her childhood days. Still, even with how simple this task was, she slacked off quite a bit. Sticks were tied together and hay thrown over them. By the time the sun dipped, the little domicile was mostly finished, mostly, and the knackered pig girl was snoozing contentedly inside. Next to her on the grassy floor lay a box containing her most prized possessions: the necklaces and bracelets she cherished so dearly.
While she slept, a pair of chartreuse eyes peeped over a bush, observing her. It was Christina, checking in on one of her “clients”. She had decided to do this every now and again, not wanting to rush things; she found that her most lucrative schemes required great patience. Wearing the same hat, shades and trench coat from before, she wasn’t too impressed as she looked upon the rather shoddy hut of hay.
“I give her all this land, and that’s what she does with it? Hmph.” muttered the wolf, before disappearing into the night.
In that time, Sasha and Elliot had encountered a small stretch of grass directly next to the shores of the lake. There, they came across another pile, much bigger than the last, this time long, thick planks. Yet another sign of the land’s “previous ownership”.
“Hm, it’s a bit weird to leave all this wood out here, of all places,” said Elliot as the two approached the heap. Then she saw Sasha inspect it closely. Very closely. And then she saw her eyes widen and her breasts swell up with a deep breath, plaid fabric and buttons straining.
“This isn’t just any wood. This is maple! Do you have any clue how hardy and sturdy this is? Nice and pale, might need a little staining though, don’t know how we’d manage that. Either way, we could totally build a cute little home out of this! It would pop right out among all this green and brown. Is there an axe or saw anywhere?”
Sasha went out looking for tools as Elliot stood there, processing everything she just said. As it was, she did in fact retrieve a long saw from behind the pile. She lifted it with an enthusiastic grin and a firm stare at her sister. It looked deranged, as if she were about to lunge at her with it.
“Okay, Sasha, uh…calm down a little.”
“Oh,” the talkative sibling replied, realising how she looked, “sorry.”
With that, she got to work, sawing pieces of hardwood down to size with great effort and yet surprising efficiency upon a nearby tree stump. Elliot didn’t think she’d seen her this dedicated to a physical activity any time in the last year. Or the year before that. It was impressive, to say the least. Sasha drove planks into the ground using large rocks, lacking anything better. While Elliot paced around, thinking about her own arrangements, Sasha somehow completed most of the first wall.
“Would you…like to live with me?” she softly asked as she turned to her pondering sister.
“I don’t know, I mean, is this even gonna be big enough for the both of us?”
“Sure it will!” Sasha insisted. “Honestly, you’ve never appreciated proper craftsmanship.”
“Okay, that’s not true. I just want something that will last. I mean, what if this one burns down like the old one?”
“It will not!” snapped Sasha.
“Are…you sure?” Elliot pressed.
Sasha drew an annoyed, busty breath in.
“If you don’t want to live with me, that’s fine. But don’t start disparaging my plans. Do you think you’re the only one that knows how to do anything? I’m twenty-one, Elliot. You should know that, since you’re also twenty-one. We all are.”
Elliot took a deep breath. She didn’t want to escalate this.
“Look, sorry. I trust you won’t burn anything. I’m just gonna keep walking and find something nice. I’ll visit sometime, I promise.”
“Oh, alright,” replied Sasha after a pause, mostly placated.
With that, she waved goodbye to Sasha, now placated and quickly resuming her work. Elliot ventured around the lake and between two low green hills, on the look out for the perfect spot to settle down. She found yet another “Property of Sharon Urswell” sign. And ignored it. After a while, Elliot stopped where the grassy hills ended and the rocky ones began. And wouldn’t you know it, there lay an organised mass of bricks, shingles, panes and tiles, along with a barrel of mortar. Her jaw had hung open at the first glimpse of it. It was very clear that Sharon had been planning to build in this area, and those plans were postponed by the debilitating illness. It appeared Elliot would now have to resume those plans by herself, for herself. She had a lot of work ahead of her.
Rolling up her dark purple sleeves, she began to toil, starting with the foundation. The toil stretched across a month and even more. The house slowly arose from the earth, brick by brick, frame by frame. So thorough was Elliot’s effort that she swore she was building visible muscle. In that time, Sasha finished her wooden haven, and was now decorating it with her prized models, as well as furniture and other knick knacks she’d managed to obtain from helping people out back in town. As for Tasha, she’d grown quite fond of her straw hut, something that the others thought was just temporary.
Though the three lived apart, they didn’t abandon each other. Elliot visited Sasha like she promised, and she was admittedly a little impressed. Tasha relied on the others for food. All the while, the sly wolf woman continued her observations, almost always at night. Unsurprisingly, Elliot’s home fascinated her most of all, the very model of a sturdy, rustic abode. She watched closely on one occasion as the pig brought inside her own valuables: several priceless artefacts inherited from their maternal grandfather, who was quite the adventurer. Christina’s enthusiasm for the next step of her scheme only grew. The more these pigs built and settled down, and the more comfortable they got, the more thrilling the depravity of the terror she longed to bring to them.
Just like a certain other wolf you may know, she possessed an astounding breath capacity in her voluptuous chest. This was something she prided herself on, and had used in past escapades. The upcoming stage of her plan was simple: reduce their homes to debris and snatch up the valuables she so desperately wanted. Upon returning home after the very last stroll, Christina tousled up her hair a little and switched outfit once again, preparing for a great deal of fun.
The next day, Tasha was awoken by a gentle knock on her grassy door, enough to slightly shake the whole structure. She groggily arose and rubbed an eye before peering out the makeshift window. And what she saw made her freeze. It was a tall she-wolf. But not with the friendly demeanor Christina had exuded. Her brows were furrowed and she wore a wide, toothy, maniacal grin, really showing off her fangs. She wore shades, a black beanie with her ears sticking out of it, and most notably a brown plaid shirt that hugged her massive breasts something fierce. Most of her deep, tan cleavage was on proud display. Behind her sat an inconspicuous black bag.
“Hello there, sweet, succulent little piggy~”, she purred in a low voice and a thick accent strongly similar to Glaswegian, which was odd, since there was no Glasgow in their world.
“Uh…um...w- who are you?”
“The name’s Cathleen Clark. I’m a runner, and right now I’m real hungry. Jogging through the woods works up a crazy appetite. Would ye be so kind as to let me in for a bite to eat?”
Tasha studied Cathleen with great trepidation. “I’m…sorry, I already ate everything. I’ve got nothing.”
“Oh ho ho,” began the wolf, now rubbing her hands, “don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got quite a bit of meat on you!”
“Come on now. Be a good sport and let me in.”
Tasha dropped to her feet and frantically shovelled to the back of the hut, heart racing. Cathleen’s head lowered, her expression and voice growing much more dark.
“Let me in, or I’m blowing this pathetic little ‘house’ to pieces.”
No response, just the pig girl’s silent trembling.
“Alright, suit yourself.”
The wolf woman centered herself with the little hut of hay, arms folded under her outrageous bosoms. The stern look she had slowly turned back into a wicked smile. She began to inhale. Air rushed in with haste, pulling at the surroundings. Tasha felt the shift, the breeze, the pull. Her silver hair fluttered, the entire structure leaning slightly towards Cathleen as the intake continued. Those already huge breasts steadily expanded, taking in the winds, ballooning rounder, tighter. The plaid fabric strained even harder, and a button shot off, bouncing against the door. Then came a brief pause as Cathleen held it all in, her inflated tits obscuring her view of the hut as she leaned back.
The hut didn’t stand the slightest sliver of anything that could be reasonably called a chance. As the mighty gust hit, it almost immediately exploded into a swirl of hay and grass, the howling of wind the only thing the petrified pig caught in the gale could hear. She tumbled over, the remains of her home raining down on her as the short but explosive cyclone died down. She shook her head, gathering herself in the midst of the chaos, and looked up to see Cathleen. Standing there, menacingly. The busty wolf licked her lips in a most theatrical manner before slowly beginning to approach. Tasha had absolutely no reason to believe she wasn’t about to be snatched up. And so, with a shrill scream that made Cathleen wince, she hopped up in a flash and bolted.
Cathleen didn’t give chase, of course. That’s not what she was here for. Her eyes instead lasered in on the box that now lay overturned in the heap. She had already seen glimpses of its contents while spying on the pigs, and while discussing “land arrangements”.
“Huh, these must be those jewels”, she mused, the accent evaporating.
She delicately picked it up and, upon opening it, was greeted with a flash of sparkles the likes of which she had scarcely seen. Her eyes lit up in an almost childlike manner as she pulled out a necklace.
“This…this is pure ruby! And there’s a whole box of this stuff? I’m making a goddamn fortune off of this!”
Cathleen giggled as she shut the box and slipped it into the bag she had brought, before disappearing back into the woods and heading home to secure her winnings. But she’d be back.
Meanwhile, Tasha was sprinting as fast as she could which, to her credit, was exceptionally fast. She hadn’t looked behind her, too scared to do so, but as soon as she did, she realised Cathleen was nowhere to be found. She scanned the bushes nearby. Nope. No deranged bloodthirsty wolf. With this revelation, she came to a stop just before the calm lake, huffing and puffing, and brushing off the remaining bits of hay from her blue jeans. Upon looking up again, she spotted that small, pale cabin down the bank. She knew Sasha had to be in. Lo and behold, just as she slowly approached the door, her sister threw it wide open.
“Tasha? What are you doing here? Did you finally get bored of the pile of hay? Not surprising. I mean no offense by this, but I really didn’t see that turning into a long-term home.”
Tasha’s eyes glinted with fear as she recounted the horror. “No, I did make a house out of it! Okay, ‘house’ might be generous, but some wolf called Catherine or something showed up threatening to eat me, and then she blew. My. House. Down! With her breath!”
Sasha fixed her sister with a bewilderment that slowly gave way to sympathy. She ran her fingers through her own long, messy hair.
“Oh, God…I’m really sorry about that. That must have been terrifying. You can live with me, if you want. I asked Elliot if she wanted to as well, but nah. Said it wasn’t big or sturdy enough for two. I really beg to differ. I’d say all three of us could live here, but regardless, there’s definitely room for you. In fact, I managed to score a whole chicken from doing favours back in town! Come on in!”
Tasha smiled at this generosity and stepped inside. That afternoon, they dined on the freshly roasted chicken that Sasha had made sure to cook outside, not wanting to experience another fire. The two talked at length about many things, though Sasha naturally dominated the conversation. Such was her longwinded nature. The chemistry was warm between them, but it was apparent that Tasha’s fear from the incident hadn't fully faded. Which, to be frank, made perfect sense. Still, the atmosphere was fairly calm, into the evening and through to dusk.
As the sun dipped over the horizon, and the two pig girls were gearing up for bed, they heard footsteps. They sounded purposeful, and they grew louder. Cathleen Clark had returned, the same black-and-blonde-streaked hair falling over her shoulders, donning the very same beanie and shirt in which she had pilfered that lovely set of jewellery. The button lost during the ordeal had been replaced. Sasha perked up, eyes darting towards the door.
Tasha’s nerves jittered. She dreaded what those sounds could mean. She slowly arose from beside her bed, which was really just some blankets on a raised bit of wood, and peeked out the window. That’s when she saw the figure, and who the figure was. As Sasha looked over at her, she could see every last bit of colour drain from her face.
“It’s…it…it…it’s…Ca-...C-...Cath-...Catherine!”
“That would be Cathleen, thank you very much.” replied the tall wolf woman in an annoyed tone. She had the very same accent from before.
“What do you want from me and my family?” Sasha asked, pretending she wasn't frightened, with dubious success.
“Oh, ye see, I’m just so tired right now! I just jogged through that whole stretch of hills twice. Could I please come in to rest? Pretty please? With a cherry on top? Two cherries, even?”
With a squeal, Tasha raced back to her rudimentary bed and hit below a blanket. Sasha gathered her courage and puffed out her bust, gathering a deep breath.
“I think not! Where do you get off trying to eat my sister? And blowing her house down? What the hell is wrong with you?! Who do you think you are?!”
“What…what are ye talking about?” began Cathleen, feigning incredulity, “I did no such thing! Blow a house down? No one can do th-”
“Liar!” shrieked a quaking Tasha from her pillow.
Ms. Clark’s expression grew immensely cross, and she let out a low, rumbling, horrifying growl.
“Ye rude little brats! That’s no way to treat your elders. Open this door this very instant or I’m blowing the whole place down and ripping you both apart!”
“Oh, please. You’re not blowing this down. This,” Sasha knocked a wall, “is hard maple. You’re not dealing with hay anymore. You know what? How about you go fall in that lake over there and drown, you fucking waste of air? Feeding the fishes would probably be a bigger contribution than anything you’ve done in your worthless, miserable life.”
Tasha’s eyes went wide. She had never seen her sister so venomous before. Cathleen had been pretending to be furious, but the sheer scathing abrasion stirred real, genuine anger within her. So much so that she took off her shades so the pig could see the growing inferno in her bright green eyes.
There came no verbal reply. Instead, a series of wrathful, heaving breaths that grew deeper. And deeper. And deeper. Her great breasts heaved more and more. Sasha backed up at the sight of the display, perhaps beginning to regret her impertinence. The heaving grew into long inhales, each one adding to the volume of her bosoms. They swelled to the point that they once more began impeding her view, torturing the seams of her top. She could feel the winds build up inside them, and simultaneously the pig girls could feel the draft of the intakes slip quickly through the shack, ruffling hair and cloth. Nearby shrubs danced in the breeze. Cathleen continued to pack herself with air until a button, the successor to the one lost before, pinged off and clattered against the earthy ground. Her boobs were somehow more than double their usual size.
The wolf shot forward and unloaded a typhoon from within her swollen being, considerably stronger than her first. The maple shack trembled violently, planks clattering. Whatever furniture was inside shuddered and toppled. Tasha screamed and Sasha yelped as the whirlwind raged on. Soon, everything well and truly began to fall apart. One roof plank flew off, then another, then another. The whole structure leaned backward, and with a crunch and a crash, the door came undone. The walls followed, ripping asunder and into the distance like a deck of cards. Cathleen’s cheeks grew burgundy from the effort, her pique at Sasha’s condemnation fueling her. When it was all said and done, the sisters now sat tousled and windswept in a heap of wood.
As they collected themselves in the aftermath of the torrent, Cathleen sauntered towards them, chest deflated. She wore a psychotic smile, paired with wide eyes that seemed to burn holes in their souls. In a low, eerie voice, she spoke.
“I’m sorry, what was that about the lake~?”
Sasha definitely regretted it now.
Cathleen chortled at the sight of the two cowering pig girls before, shuddering in terror, and then, spontaneously, lifted her hands, unhinged her maw and…
The terrible roar echoed through the air, powerful enough to send a gust their way. At this, the two screamed in unison and hastily picked themselves up before vacating the premises at great speed. This time, Cathleen did briefly pursue them, growling as she did, purely for the thrill. She stopped once they had dashed through a sparse patch of nettles, Tasha’s legs getting stung a couple times. They disappeared into the night, rushing around the bank of the lake and heading for the home of their diligent sister.
Cackling, the malevolent lupine headed back to the wreckage to survey for any valuables. She tossed scattered maple plank after scattered maple plank, and before long stumbled across a bunch of models and sculptures, as well as some signed comics and books. Some of the models, she could tell, were vintage, while others were new. Either way, they’d sell for a fair price, she thought. She then picked up a book: The Headless Horsewoman by Warrington Birling, with what seemed to be his signature on the cover. Also on the cover was a decapitated swordswoman fully wrapped in sleek black, with a long flowing crimson cape and holding her own bloodied severed head. Based on a true story, apparently.
“...Damn. Might keep this one, actually.”
Cathleen stuffed everything into her grey sack and once more began homeward. She delighted in the progress of her little scheme, the terrified expressions of the pig girls wonderfully etched into her mind.
While this was all going on, Sharon Urswell had recovered. Mostly. There were still the fading echoes of the terrible headache she had suffered, but getting out of bed was no longer agonising. She knew all about the disastrous fire. Lawrence had told her. But it was only now that she was in any position to do something about it herself. She couldn’t call the pigs on the telephone, of course, as they weren’t there anymore. She also longed to get her hands on Cassandra Cole, whose elixir had been the source of that excruciating illness. She’d smash that blonde bitch flat. It was safe to say that Sharon had a whole lot on her mind.
On the night of the demolition of Sasha’s maple sanctuary, Sharon and Lawrence drove to the ruins of the pigs’ former home. Their hearts sank at the sorry sight.
“Have you heard any news about them?” she asked him as they stood on the lawn.
Lawrence, somehow even taller than his wife and dressed in a grey vest, shook his head.
“Last I heard, they had headed for the woods. No idea what happened after that.”
Sharon hissed through her teeth in worry. Why would they disappear into the woods? The couple returned home after a few more minutes of pacing around, retiring to bed, but Sharon in particular struggled to sleep.
Tasha and Sasha sprinted across the grass and between the hills, breathing heavily with both fatigue exertion and panic. Before long, it became mostly exertion. Eventually they were too puffed to continue, and Tasha scanned the area. Again, no wolf. It would be difficult for her to hide in open ground like this, even when it was dark. They had stopped along the earthy path that marked the way to the house of bricks, the light from inside visible.
Sasha looked dejectedly at the ground as they both trudged along. “You know, I really liked that house. Plus, I left behind everything I had. It really sucks, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back there.”
“So, we’ve actually got nothing. God fucking damn it, why did that house have to burn down?”
“The world can be cruel, Tasha.”
Tasha stopped. “You know, I didn’t know you had it in you to be that aggressive.”
“Well, no one’s ever hurt you like that before. It’s really not often that someone literally blows your home to pieces and tries to kill you. It does slightly piss one off.”
Tasha giggled, but she really did appreciate that. It was then that they turned to the tall, reddish house just before the set of hills that ended the oasis. It stood out in the stillness of the night, having been built with such care and confidence that one would really assume that its occupant was the rightful owner of the land. The occupant was of course Elliot, who happened to tug the polka dot curtains of her bedroom just as her sisters were jogging towards the door.
Knocks rang out, followed by the muffled thudding of feet against stairs from inside. The ivory door swung open, and Elliot, dressed in a loose pink night robe, was greeted with two familiar faces. Her sisters exuded both relief and unease.
“Please let us in, we’ll explain everything!” Tasha urged.
“Why? What happened to your houses?”
Tasha and Sasha eyed each other with discernible shame, not saying a word. Elliot sighed and granted them refuge. Soon the three were gathered in her living room, the master of the house having offered them tea. For the first time since the fire, the triplets were truly forced to come together under one roof.
Sasha took a soothing sip before setting her mug down and fixed Elliot with a deeply serious look.
“Okay, so, Tasha was just minding her own business in her little straw place and then some wolf named Cathleen came along out of nowhere and said she’d eat her. She then proceeded to blow everything down. And so, Tasha came to my house, and we were having a very good time, but then Cathleen showed up again, threatened to eat us, and blew it down too. I have no idea where this woman came from, but she’s scary as shit and I wouldn’t be surprised if she came back.”
“Jesus…that sounds terrifying.”
“It was terrifying, and I had to live through it twice!” yelled Tasha.
Elliot looked at her. “Where’s your stuff?”
“Well, I was so scared that I ran away without picking it up. Same with Sasha. Like, there just wasn’t time for it.”
“Oh, I see. Well, it’s clear to me that you’ve both gone through some serious shit, and also that the only real option left is for you both to live with me.”
“Can we?” the other less fortunate two asked in unison.
“Yes, of course. But it’s a little different this time. I built this place myself, so you follow my rules. There aren’t a lot of rules, the main one is just ‘don’t break this’, but still. Understand?”
Tasha and Sasha nodded. They were just grateful to be safe.
“Good!” chirped Elliot. “And also, there’s no way in the depths of Tartarus that anyone is blowing this house down. Now, I’m tired, and I’m certain you two are as well. There’s enough bedrooms for all of us.”
With that, the three headed upstairs and geared up for a good night’s rest. At least, they hoped it would be. There was this underlying sense of worry between Tasha and Sasha that Cathleen would return. They knew what she was capable of and wondered if Elliot’s declaration would hold up.
The soft twitter of birds the next morning was broken by a series of oddly aggressive knocks against the door. It was almost like whoever was outside was trying to smash the poor thing apart. The triplets all jolted as they heard this. Elliot was frightened, but her sisters were positively mortified. Only one person would knock with such ferocity. As Elliot peered out the window, she spotted her.
A very irate looking wolf.
“Um guys, quick question.”
The others entered her room with visible dread.
“Did Cathleen wear a beanie, shades and plaid shirt?”
“Then, uh…I have bad news.”
“Fuuuuuuck!” moaned a severely agitated Tasha.
Cathleen didn’t bother with the runner bit this time. She cut right to the chase.
“Open this door right now! This very instant, I tell ye! Let me in and apologise to my face for the absolutely horrendous treatment I’ve endured from ye lot! Or I’m gonna blow this place to kingdom come, and then ye’ll really be sorry!”
Her voice rang out across the land, a most wrathful bellow. As Sasha embraced Tasha with great fear, retreating to a corner, Elliot stared down at the raving wolf woman. She was naturally a little afraid, but she regarded Cathleen with brave contempt.
“I mean this with full sincerity when I say that I will be abducted in my sleep and whisked away to the faraway land of Valdora, where they will declare me Empress and tell me to embark on a long and brutal war of conquest, before you blow this house down. Now, please go home before you hurt yourself. You know, hyperventilation can cause serious problems.”
The wolf’s demeanour grew quieter but cold. “Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you? Your sister also ran her mouth at me, and then whoosh! Everything gone. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.”
“Fine, knock yourself out,” Elliot replied before drawing the curtains and closing the window.
Cathleen prepared herself. She knew what Elliot had, and she wanted it bad. Horrendous, even. So she carefully inspected her plaid-claid boobs, cleared her throat, and inhaled. And inhaled. And inhaled. Did I say inhaled? Air spiralled into her nostrils with force, the sprouts of the shrubbery that Elliot had planted leaning towards the eye of the vortex. Shingles shuddered, grass bent, and a passing raven struggled to continue its flight. All of that gathering wind filled her breasts, ballooning them to the point that several buttons departed hither and thither. Those tan orbs burgeoned past exercise ball proportions, annexing more of her view of the house she sought to destroy.
The exhale that followed engulfed the fortress in an enormous wailing gale. Plants bent the other way, practically flattened. Roof shingles trembled and clattered more vigorously. Dust swirled in high clouds, swallowing much of the house. The pigs could hear the muffled sounds of wind, and the chattering of the door. Tasha decided to make herself useful. She grabbed a nightstand and brought it downstairs, pushing it against the only thing stopping Cathleen from waltzing in. As for Cathleen, she was straining hard and clenching her fists in an effort to ramp up the force of the whirlwind before she ran out. And run out she did.
The wolf fell to the ground, panting harder than most people could, her huffs ruffling the grass. When she looked back up, she saw the towering auburn bastion. The roof was slightly more uneven than before, especially at the front. The garden around her was worse for wear. But the house itself stood completely unmoved. Inside, the sisters had heard the wind die down and were jumping for joy at their bully’s spectacular failure. If she listened closely, she could hear them cheer. Then Elliot cracked open her bedroom window and the three poked their heads out.
“What’s wrong, Cathy? Lungs not good enough?” jeered Tasha with a mocking, quivering lip.
“Yeah, come on. I thought you were gonna do the same to me? What’s taking so long?” Elliot added.
Sasha looked down at Cathleen, and on Cathleen, with raw judgement.
“Look at you, lying there like a pathetic slug.”
With that, they broke into laughter again. Cathleen rose from her state of exhaustion and glared at them. Her lips scraped against her teeth. She was enraged. Not that it would seem so different to the pigs, but earlier, it had been pretend. An act. It wasn’t now. No racket of hers had ever gone this awry. No one had ever humiliated her like this, let alone so jovially. Combined with her desperation, it was all maddening. The more they derided her with their hooting and hollering, the more she felt it. It was the first time she actually, genuinely wanted to tear someone apart.
“Oh ho ho, you snarky fucks…”
Ms. Clark wasted no time giving it another go. An enormous inbreath stole the majority of the nearby oxygen. Once more, plants leaned her way, and once more, her tits were engorged by the building gusts. They reached the same size as before, round and glistening, and with this, she bent over to release it all. This second windstorm was like the first, kicking up great rushing clouds of debris and disturbing the roof. A few fence posts fell askew. The door trembled. The house, however, remained exactly where it was. The attempt ended with an even more weary Cathleen, and even more ecstatic pigs.
“Heh, look at her,” Elliot remarked as she peered out. “She’s turning purple!”
Cathleen’s blood was boiling over. This wasn’t how it was meant to go at all! Her eyelids twitched with strained rage as her face turned a shade of red that actually startled Elliot a little. She wouldn’t surrender yet. If she had to blow so hard as to conjure an actual hurricane in a neighbouring county, she would, if it meant the house before her, and their insufferable occupants, were vanquished.
Her hands met her curvy hips. Her head tilted all the way back, facing skyward. She stared up at the cerulean haze dotted sparingly with thin clouds, as if preparing to suck in all of it. And then she unhinged her jaw and commenced the longest, loudest gasp of breath she could manage. Cathleen just stood there, pulling everything in with the force of a turbine. More than that, in fact. With the window open, the pigs could feel breezes slither through the house, flowing past them. Fence posts vibrated in place. A gust half as strong as the earlier blasts whooshed in the opposite direction, funnelling down, down, down into the depths of that huge, gaping maw.
Her breasts distended to a truly unprecedented size, each growing to about seven times their usual buxom volume. As the air demanded more room, her stomach rounded out, shoving past the buttons in a series of rapid-fire pops, and billowing into a vast orb that matched and then exceeded her monumental melons. Her black lacy bra, custom made for strength yet still stretched to its limit, was the last thing keeping her decent. Loose leaves and petals flew about around her, prisoners of the wolfish, womanly vortex.
Elliot battened down the hatches. This was going to be a doozy.
Cathleen shut her mouth. The whooshing creased. Her body rumbled from the mounting pressure. The leaves and petals fell softly. Feeling fit to burst, she hauled her bloated, rotund frame forward and let it fly.
It was outrageously tempestuous. A raging, screaming typhoon. The wolf dug her feet in hard and took several laborious steps, as to not launch herself backwards from the overwhelming power. All the grass before her was bent completely horizontally by the cyclone. Flowers and shrubs were torn from the earth and flung far away, joined by rocks from the hills behind the house as the winds raced up them. The young trees that dotted the area tilted, their vibrant leaves stolen from them in dense swirling clusters. The white fence was blown completely asunder. The planks and posts that had made it up were added to the blustery chorus of destruction, as were many roof shingles. The pigs inside could hear them come apart. They could hear the door groan and the nightstand try its very best to hold it in place. They had never witnessed a storm this intense. But all things, no matter how mighty, must come to an end.
The end came when Cathleen wheezed out the last of her breath with splutters and spray. Her face was mauve from exhaustion (and near asphyxiation), and she had pushed out the winds with such effort that her body had shrunk even smaller than her usual curvaceous form. And then there was the house. Despite the literal blows that it, and especially the front yard, had taken, it still boasted four brick walls that hadn’t moved a micrometer. She had only a few more seconds to gaze at its defiance before collapsing on her face.
With the howling having ended, Sasha peeped through the window, taking in the glorious sight of their terroriser now deflated and unconscious on the ground.
Her sisters cheered at the news, and the triplets embraced each other like never before. After so much hardship and run-ins with death, they had finally triumphed. In the midst of their joyous celebration, Tasha turned to Elliot.
“Okay, maybe I should have, you know, listened to you back there,” she admitted.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Elliot with a smile, “you’re safe now. We’ve won. Yeah, I’m gonna have to redo the garden and maybe the roof, but she’s out cold, and she’s never getting in here. Ever.”
Outside, Cathleen came to, getting up slowly and wearily. She saw the house before her and instantly remembered what had happened, why she was here.
She turned around and trudged homeward, stumbling a little on the way. Gone was her energetic, spry demeanour. She was now an absolute wreck, pungent with the foul smell of failure. That evening, after a short hitchhike back to town, the sisters toasted to their victory and drank to their hearts’ content, though Elliot guzzled pink lemonade as she wouldn’t dare touch alcohol. They settled in bed some hours later with a new sense of peace, the first time in two days that all three truly had a good night’s sleep.
It was early next morning, 6 o’clock-ish, that Sharon Urswell finally returned to the picturesque stretch of land that indeed she was the actual owner of. Wrapped in her prized khaki trench coat, and with her black hair styled sharply, she scouted the place. She admired its beauty, of course, but above all she was on the look out for the pig triplets. She had no clue where they were, and it was beginning to wear on her. It didn’t take her too long to spot the pile of hay that lay not far from the big sign declaring her ownership, except that pile had been reduced to a mess. Hay lay all over the place as if someone had shoved it all over.
“Huh? This was all piled up over there last time I was here! What’s going on?” the confounded landlady asked, to no one in particular.
Turning to the lake, Sharon spotted something else. Near the calm water was a sparse heap of scattered planks. Maple planks. The same maple planks that last time had been neatly stacked up in preparation for some land development. The big bear woman slapped her forehead and stared in sheer disbelief.
“Who the…what the…what’s going on?? Who’s been here?!”
After walking past the wooden rubble, mind spinning with confusion, she continued on. And that’s when she saw it. A narrow, rudimentary dirt path, and further away, and its end, the tall, reddy-brown residence of the pig girls, crafted with care from the materials she had left there. Outside, Elliot was repairing her torn-up garden, facing away from, and thus unaware of, the trench coat-clad mountain of a lady. Sharon struggled to wrap her mind around it. Why were they here, on her property? How had they built this so quickly? While she was relieved they were okay, she couldn’t shake the growing irritation.
Her brows furrowed. She sucked in a breath that strained her off-white dress top, and then she bellowed.
The yell shook the ground, scaring the living hell out of Elliot, who shot around. She was expecting it to be Cathleen again, but she was even more shocked to see Sharon Urswell, her former landlady, striding towards her with discernible anger in her step.
“Oh, Sharon! Um, haven’t seen you in a w-”
“What in God’s name is going on here?” the bear interrupted, now just a few steps away from the pig, towering over her with that famously hefty build.
Startled by the sudden commotion, Tasha and Sasha dashed to the door and emerged outside. Their viridian eyes widened in shock at the sight of Sharon, stood there with an exasperated gaze and clenched fists.
“What do you mean?” Elliot asked, puzzled and frightened. “Y- you gave us this land, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” added Tasha, “Christina said so!”
“Uh, no, I didn’t! I didn’t give any of this to anyone! And who the hell is Christina?”
“Christina…Kane, I think? Or was it Crane?” Sasha began. “Either way, that wolf you hired? She sold all of this to us for pretty damn cheap. Said she felt sorry for us.”
Sharon was dumbfounded and even more vexed now.
“I have never heard that name in my life! And what's with that mess down there?” she boomed, pointing in the general direction of the grassy and woody ruins.
What followed was a disorganised cacophony of overlapping explanations by all three triplets on how each had built their own home, and two of them had been swept away by the winds of Cathleen Clark, a vicious wolf woman who they were certain was out to get them. Sasha even came close to losing a button as she mimicked the way Cathleen had huffed and puffed, swelling her boobs up. As irate as she was, Sharon listened.
Elliot was keen to deflate the tension, so she put on a tender smile.
“Say, Sharon, are you feeling better now? You were sick for quite a while.”
“Yes, I am, and yes, I was. Some wolf called…hm, what was it? Cassandra Cole, that’s it. She gave me some elixir for my itches. I don’t know what was in it, but it nearly killed me. Honestly, I’m more pissed about that than you being here.”
Tasha froze, stared at Sharon for a bit, then rubbed her chin. She might not have been the smartest person around, but something about this seemed…strange.
“Hey,” she began, ”this might seem random, but…did Cassandra have tan skin and blonde-ish hair?”
“Hm…yes. Yes, she did, actually. A very light blonde.”
“Huh. I could’ve sworn Christina did as well.”
“Wait,” said Elliot, “you’re right. She definitely did. And you know what, so did Cathleen…”
The moment she said that, you could see it click in all four of them. The collective facepalm that followed sounded like a thunderclap.
“Oh, that sneaky little bitch!” groaned Tasha.
“In hindsight, how did none of us realise that earlier?” Sasha said, more wearily.
“All I’m getting from this is that ‘Chris-leen-dra’, whatever her name is, deserves an even bigger beating than I thought,” grumbled Sharon, sporting a quite murderous look. “We need to find her. Right now. Come.”
The triplets weren’t about to argue. They wanted to put that wicked wolf woman in a fix just as much as the landlady did. As she turned and stormed off to her car parked at the border with the woods, they followed. Tasha looked pissed. Sasha looked determined and pissed. Elliot looked stern, determined, and pissed. On the way to the car, they once more passed by the two heaps of wreckage, physical reminders of the score they sought to settle.
The four spent the whole rest of the morning and much of the afternoon driving around. First, they drove up through the tall rocky hills that lay beyond the house, staying for a bit to survey any buildings. The only building they found was the ruins of a battlement which must have been as old as all of them put together times five. So at least five hundred and thirty. They decided the wolf would have zero desire to live there. Thus, they travelled back down south, weaving through town after town. All the while, they asked anyone they could get their hands on if they had ever run into a blonde tan wolf, specifically one that had tried to sell them something. A surprising amount said yes, though no one knew anything about whereabouts.
As the sun teetered towards the west, and the afternoon dragged on, Sharon and the pigs were exhausted. It was now quarter to five. All of their driving and asking around had produced little results. At this point they had returned to their hometown and were parked on a quiet road in the less-well-off outskirts. Something inside the four didn’t really want to give up, they still relished in the notion of bringing that wolf to justice, but as they all stepped out the car, it seemed hopeless.
“Let’s be real,” Tasha groaned, trudging along the road aimlessly, “we’re never gonna find her.”
“I mean, we went around looking for one specific person whose name and appearance changes every other hour. This was never going to work,” said Sasha, wearily leaning against the trunk.
Sharon just stood there, arms crossed, grumbling with both fatigue and severe frustration.
The faintest sounds could be heard from the distance, sounding somewhat like cries of pain, but these were ignored. The sound that followed, however, couldn’t be.
A great roar sliced through the melancholy stillness. All four heads snapped towards the direction it had come from, their shocked eyes landing on a bunch of trees at the very edge of town, past the shanty-esque block of houses. They managed to catch said trees shaking much more violently than the calm afternoon breeze would cause them to.
“The hell was that?” said Elliot.
“It sounded like a…sneeze? My sneezes sound like that sometimes,” replied Sharon, staring at the trees in deep curiosity and with narrowing eyes. “I think we should take a look over there.”
The four got back in the car, filled with both intrigue and apprehension. Very soon they were on the move again, driving down the cracked road at a moderate speed, approaching the source of that deafening rattle. Elliot, ever vigilant, rolled down the window to her right as to better hear for any more sounds. And it was a good thing she did, as at that very moment, the ‘cries’ rang out again, much louder and clearer. They all heard it now. These weren’t howls or whines. These were gasps. Great, sucking gasps.
“RAAAAAAAAASCHOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Another monumental sneeze blasted through the area. The trees shuddered and swayed even more than before. Now just a few feet away from them, Sharon and the pigs could feel the gust rush by, thanks to the open window. Four heads of hair blew around. The noise was almost overwhelming.
Once everything had settled, Sharon slipped out of the car as quietly as she could, motioning for the triplets to follow suit. They ambled between the trees and reached a fence that surely must have seen better days. And that was when they saw her. A wolf woman. A sniffling wolf woman. A sniffling wolf woman who looked just like Cassandra, Christina and Cathleen. Pastel blonde hair. Tan skin. The very same light green eyes. This time, she was wearing white shower robes. One her ample chest sat a ruby necklace. Tasha’s face changed instantly.
“That’s mine,” she whispered. “That’s her.”
It was. Some pollen had gotten to her nose, and she seemed to be recovering now. Behind her was her shabby but grand abode, made of planks, and painted a rather odd colour, somewhere between plum and that ugly colour used in modern cigarette packaging. Paying no attention to the left side of her fence as she dabbed her nose, she didn’t catch three pigs and a bear glaring at her just over the top. They had finally found her. The cause of all their anguish was standing just eleven metres away.
“Oh, it most certainly is,” snarled Sharon, eyes narrowing with fury. She was just about to leap over the fence to tear the wolf apart when Sasha tugged her sleeve.
“Wait, wait…what if we gave her a little payback?”
The other three bent down and turned to her. She elucidated.
“I mean, she blew my house down. She blew Tasha’s down. She tried blowing Elliot’s down. Why don’t we show her what it’s like? I've got pretty good lungs, it’s how I’m able to talk so much. Sharon, respectfully, you look big enough to let out a gale.”
The bear blushed at this compliment.
“And you two,” Sasha continued, addressing her sisters, “could probably do it as well, if you really, really try. Let the anger fuel you.”
“Do you really think we could?” Elliot asked, not the most confident in her sister’s plan.
“You know…” Sharon thoughtfully began, “it’s worth a shot. It would be pretty satisfying, and even if it doesn’t work, I can just break in and beat her ass anyway.”
“Yeah, either way, she’s getting fucked up,” Tasha remarked with a smile.
Having settled totally from her allergic episode, ‘Chris-leen-dra’ returned inside. Her four victims behind the fence grinned sinisterly at each other. Now was their time. With the wolf woman counting money in her kitchen, totally unaware, they jumped the fence and marched onto her weed-dotted lawn. They didn’t bother announcing themselves; the slimy bitch didn’t deserve such a courtesy.
“Alright,” Elliot said, steeling herself for something she'd never done before, “here goes nothing.”
With that, she inhaled through her nose. Her modest breasts rose inside her purple keyhole sweater. Taking Sasha’s advice, she let her simmering indignation reignite and push her to go further. She sucked in again, and her rising boobs swelled significantly, straining the fabric. As for Sasha, she began drawing in one long continuous breath. Her own breasts expanded quickly, stretching out her plaid shirt until a button shot off and buried itself in a shrub. Tasha, not unlike Elliot, focused hard, harder than she probably ever have, taking a series of increasingly deep pulls into her own chest. Her black crop top rode up with her steadily billowing bust.
Past the off-plum wooden wall, the wolf now lounged on her couch, immensely satisfied with herself. In just an hour, someone would be here to collect the jewellery and models she had pilfered, and she’d rake in at least eleven thousand crowns.
Meanwhile, seeing how much the pigs were puffing up, Sharon rolled her shoulders and stared down the house in malevolent glee. The following inhale was immense, a mighty suction that soon grew strong enough bent the weedy shrubs in front of the walls. Whilst Tasha, Sasha and Elliot continued sucking in their own respectably huge breaths, they could feel their silver hair flap about in the breeze. Her already prodigious breasts burgeoned to a monstrous size, rising up from her trench coat. The inflating deep brown orbs took up more and more of her line of sight as she leaned back and continued to expand. The triplets, with their own bosoms (especially Sasha’s) bloated up, looked over at the bear in awe. Clearly, Sasha’s compliment held water.
The growing noise from the four huge intakes began to diffuse indoors. The wolf woman, having dozed off a bit, perked up with a snort. The sound was muffled, but noticeable. Perplexed, she arose, walked up to the window, and pulled up the curtains. And that’s when she was met with the sight of four massively swelling busts, belonging to the four vengeful victims of her recent rackets. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. Panic shot through her voluptuous being.
They leaned forward and let it all out.
The collective hurricane enveloped the purplish structure. Weeds and bushes were ripped from the ground. Planks shuddered and shook with a cacophonic intensity that only grew more so. The pigs and the bear shoved the wind out of their swollen bodies with the utmost force and strength they could muster, faces already flushing maroon. Their hair flailed in the backdraft, and Elliot’s glasses fell askew. The wolf looked around her in horror as her home, and her entire livelihood, began to collapse. First the walls came apart, especially at the front, as planks were flung away by the howling gale. Then the door was torn from its hinges, further inviting the storm inside. She screamed and tightly held onto her robes as furniture toppled and turned. The turbulent air was filled with the sound of cracking, crashing, smashing and shrieking.
Soon, it was well and truly over. The ceiling gave way, and the supports leaned backward with a terrible groan. The swindler knew if she stayed inside much longer, she was dead. With only a few seconds to spare, she bolted for the back door. And then the entire structure caved in on itself with a final, tremendous crash.
Clouds of dust arose from the earth after the tempest died down. Tasha, Sasha, Elliot and Sharon were all kneeling now, panting heavily in exhaustion. They had never exerted themselves on such a scale. But they had won.
“We…we did it…we actually did it…” Elliot huffed, gazing at the rubble in amazement.
The noisy destruction had drawn quite a few folks from down the road out of their homes. They watched the aftermath in shock, confusion, and, understandably, fear. Some contemplated taking a closer look, but once they caught a glimpse of the Sharon Urswell, they stayed right where they were. The four victors recovered their breath, eventually, and beamed in triumph and satisfaction. The horrified wolf woman stood behind the wreckage, unable to process what had just happened.
“Yeah, ain’t fun to get your shit blown down, is it, Cathleen?” Tasha remarked as she and the others began to approach through the rubble.
The wolf took a few steps back.
“What are you, Christina, some kind of windy swindler?” scorned Sasha.
Soon, the conwoman was face to face with Sharon. The towering bear stared down at her with malice and bubbling fury. The wolf had never felt such burning regret since the day she performed her first scam. She may have been able to intimidate the pigs, but next to this absolute unit, she was barely anything.
Whilst she was backed further away, Sharon swiftly unclipped and removed the necklace, Tasha’s necklace, from atop the wolf’s bosom, which heaved in growing terror, before handing over to its rightful owner. What followed was a series of loud, agonising cries as Sharon rained down blow after blow. She went for the cranium, then the stomach, then the face, then the groin. The lupine fell, and Sharon didn’t let up for a second. The pigs watched the spectacle unfold with deep satisfaction, grinning so hard it reached their eyelids.
Then, out of pure curiosity, Tasha went over to the great heap they had all created and began searching it. Her sisters soon joined her in sifting through the wooden wreckage, as well as hundreds of items of clothing. Sasha retrieved The Headless Horsewoman, while Tasha found a large black box whose lid was caved in. Upon opening it, she saw her beloved necklaces and bracelets, sprinkled onto Sasha’s models, sculptures and prized literature like cheese on spaghetti. Her eyes lit up at the wondrous sight. Elliot, for her part, uncovered a lightly crumpled sheet of paper. “NAME IDEAS” was written at the top in all capitals. Intrigued, she skimmed over these ideas, many of them crossed out, and struggled to contain her growing laughter.
“Hey guys, come look at this!”
Tasha and Sasha went over to her, and together they read through the names. Catherine Cook. Caroline Kane. Cranberry Craft. Cringbongler Crood. Clitoris Creed. The wolf’s hollering from her beating was joined by cackles from the triplets, laughing their heads off at the sheer absurdity of what they were reading. Between them, they wondered how on earth she had lasted so long as a conwoman with pseudonyms like these. As she wiped away tears, Tasha noticed an old card at her feet and picked it up. It was a driver’s license, issued five years ago. On it was the wolf’s stupid grinning face, and next to it, in plain text:
“Hm,” Elliot mused as the three looked at it, “so that’s her real name.”
When Sharon thought Kimberly had been battered enough, them and the pigs headed back to the car; Kim was going to be whalloped again if she refused. They loaded the black box into the boot, and drove off to the police station. The pigs all sat in the back, content, feeling the breeze in their hair, while Miss Croft’s bruised self was in the passenger seat, more miserable than she’d ever been. Once there, Sharon demanded, loud enough to sway the receptionist’s bangs, that Kimberly serve time for the theft, fraud, terror and near-death she had brought upon her and the triplets, and be investigated for any more swindling she had most definitely done. She was told they’d look into it, and that they had in fact received a lot of scam reports in recent weeks.
Just before leaving, Sasha turned back and looked at the defeated wolf woman who was now sat on a metal chair.
“So, Kimberly,” she let that name drag out, “anything to say for yourself? Hm? Anything at all?”
Kimberly looked at her back, face tired and hopeless, truly the look of someone who had been completely and utterly vanquished.
“That…uh…horsewoman book is pretty good, I guess,” was all she could think of replying with.
With that, the four left, heading back to the car. Sharon, bosom full of accomplishment, addressed the pigs as she walked.
“Now, about the house. You need somewhere to live, and I happen to be in a very good mood right now, so I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you keep both it and some of the surrounding land. I don’t know how much of it, but we’ll figure out those details later.”
“Really?” chirped Tasha with delight. “How much for rent?”
“Nothing,” said Sharon, “I’m relinquishing it to you. It’s yours.”
The pigs, overcome with joy and gratitude, embraced the bear tightly in an impromptu group hug. This caught Sharon slightly off guard, but she slowly melted into it, smiling contently. As for the sisters, the last few days had been, for them, the very definition of hectic, distressing, confounding, and yes, cyclonic. But all of that was now in the past. They now had a country life ahead of them that promised to be peaceful, and above all else, they had each other. That night, Kimberly Croft curled up behind bars, knowing nothing good was coming for her, while the triplets slept soundly in their new home, nestled among the low hills of the land that now actually did belong to them.
Under the soft light of the moon, a wolf man by the name of Jordan, draped in a dark grey jacket, drove up to the address Kimberly had given him, quite a bit later than he had promised. He came with a load of cash, expecting to receive a big box of goods. Instead what he saw was a giant pile of ruins. He stood there, mouth hanging open slightly.
“The hell happened here?”
