Uncivil War | Phase 5 - Recovery
The kinks of the motherâŠ
Morgan is coming into her own as a wolven tactician, but as her hormones develop, she begins to hear about her mother's old exploits⊠Comm for Anon!
Check out Part 1 here! Part 2 is here! Part 3 is here! Part 4 is here!
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The legends of the Master Tactician Swanâs exploits were known far and wide. From how she snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, how she managed to lead the kingdom of Ylisse to victory against the Grimeal and the Fell Dragon Grima to her notoriety for being a raunchy exhibitionist prankster whose magic prowess was second only to her intense powers of stench.
And her daughter Morgan simply loved hearing those tales.
Something about learning something new about her mother was exciting. Knowing how many lives she had touched, how many impressions she had left upon people⊠She strived to be just like her mother; learning tactics like her, matching her combat style, and anything else she could think of. Swan was her hero and that was the path she wanted to walk in life.
She wasnât sure what to make of the rumors about her motherâs âterritorialâ acts. Instinctively, she wanted to deny them. Peeing on people and things, regardless of time or location⊠That didnât match up with the picture she was painting in her mind.
But the more people she asked, the more people confirmed it. Details lined up too perfectly, and while Swan was deft at avoiding the subject, Tharja would always let a little slide when pried on the subject.
Why would she do that, though? Everyone had their theories, but none of them felt like they hit the nail on the head. Her mother was a rational person. So there had to be a rational reason behind it.
⊠Territorial acts. Swan, and by extension Morgan, had canine blood in them. Perhaps it was something that their bloodline demanded from them; an ancient action that still felt right in their muscles.
She had to try it herself. There was a part within her that remained nervous, however. Where would she start? The thought pegged her brain repeatedly as she roamed the gardens, the claws at the end of her paws tapping against the stone path below. Morgan just wanted a taste, to see what enticed her mother to act in such an odd way. Getting others involved wasnât quite in the cards for her.
But then her eyes fell upon a pot of plants positioned off the path.
Lonely little leafy lilacs, lost under the canopies of the bushes above them. She frowned and took the pot out of the shade, moving it beside the path itself to give it more sun. There. Theyâll have a better chance of living like this. Maybe sheâll water them while sheâs⊠at itâŠ
As she looked around for a watering can that could make her task easier, her brain caught up with herself.
Perhaps this plant was a sign.
Her eyes darted about as she felt her heart rate begin to rise; her hands awkwardly fumbling for her belt. Those prized canine ears of hers couldnât tell if anyone was nearby. Perfect. The opportunity had presented itself to her, and sheâd be a fool not to take it.
Her trousers fell in a heap around her paws collectively with her panties and slacked belt. She was exposed now; a prospect that already began to excite her. Part of her mind was barking at her to linger, take her time, let someone see her⊠B-But no; she couldnât.
Instead, Morgan took hold of her canine cock with a trembling hand, feeling its gradually firming length against the pads, andâŠ
She didnât expect her body to resist the urge so much. Years of training as to where and how to properly use the bathroom was hard to overwrite. But once she managed toâŠ
The torrent of yellow spilled forth, and the eager young girl felt her tail swinging behind her blissfully. As it cascaded down onto the unwitting plant, her mind was simply rolling with all the new thoughts spinning about in her head. The white lilac leaves dripped with the yellow liquid, lost in the stream as it all soaked into the brown dirt that held its roots.
Relieving oneself could be⊠pleasurable. Such a thought had never even begun to grace Morganâs mind, but here she was. Indulging in this little taboo habit all to herself.
The stream gradually died down, leaving the soil about the pot thick and muddy as it seeped into the porous dirt. Morgan simply stood there, watching it soak in with a scientific curiosity. Not about that process, but the process that had begun to spin in her brain.
This is why mother did it. The excitement, the rush, the primal feeling within just making it feel so right. But why had mother been so hesitant to bring it up? Why would she hide something so wonderful? A greed to keep it to herself? No, that didnât sound like mother at allâŠ
The sound of footsteps snapped Morgan out of her inquisitive trance. Hurriedly, she reached down and fumbled with her pants, yanking them up as she had begun to hobble away. Though far from the most graceful retreat, she managed to get behind some bushes and towards the exit by the time she could hear whoever entered the gardens begin to speak.
âOh! Someone already fixed up this flower for me. Watered it, too.â
The experimentation only grew from there, though Morgan had some restraint. Nobody was to get involved in her antics, yet nobody knew just yet that she had begun to take after her mother.
Or if they did, they dared not mention it.
Plants were her sole victims for the first few days. A stray bush, a tree beside a river. Not only had Morgan been deeply enjoying the experience, but there was something to say about how efficient it was. The need to stop what she was doing to hurry off to a lavatory meant she could go longer without the interruptions it brought. Her reading efficacy increased, and she found that she was quickly getting more of her chores done.
Which delighted Swan; oblivious as to how she had been doing it.
But the rush wasnât there. The excitement from her first foray had been fading. Maybe it was getting too repetitive. Too⊠normalized. She needed to branch out.
From within the familyâs kitchen, Morgan found herself leaning over the island, eyes pouring over the newest volume of a novel she had purchased, while her hand was off to the side, occasionally tossing a cracker into her mouth, then grabbing her tea after every few snacks.
The urge had begun to sneak up on her. All the tea she had been downing while engrossed by the story wanted out as quick as it wanted in. Oddly enough, the young wolf's instinct was to look around for a plant to do the deed in; bathrooms being far from her mind for this purpose.
There was some ivy hanging from a box on the window, and some bushes just beyond that⊠If she opened the glass and simply let it stream through there, it'd do the job, but⊠It just didn't excite her as much; though part of her knew that if she just kept searching for higher highs, she'd eventually get diminishing returns.
Didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself for now, at least.
Standing up straight with a stretch, she let the muscles and bones in her back relax from her hunched over stance. Just how long had she been reading, anyways? The sun was starting to dim outside, so it was probably close to dinner. Oh well. She should probably be taking a break from reading anyways. Mother always warned her that she'd need glasses if she didn't let her eyes rest.
Morgan marked the spot in her book and slid it into her sleeve; closing the tin of crackers and placing it back in a cabinet while she put her empty teacup in the washing basin, along with the other bowls and cups that littered it.
But as she turned to leave the kitchen, an idea flashed in her mind, flickering the flames of creativity like Elfire.
Another teacup was removed from the cabinets, and Morgan held it in her hands; cradled between her palms like a precious treasure. Spotless, white porcelin, with little circular designs printed on the bottom in blue ink.
And then it was lowered to her thighs, where she had begun to undo her trousers to let herself begin. She had given up her belt for efficiency reasons, so that made her crotch all the easier to access.
Freed of its cloth prison, the dark meat twitched to life, already hard with excitement. Morgan couldn't help but giggle gleefully as she pointed the head down into the cup's basin with one hand, holding it steady with the other.
Like a faucet, the salty nectar began to flow free on command. How well she had trained herself to simply let go over the last few days. Relieving herself wherever she wished felt like second nature at this point. A bit of it splashed out of the small cup and onto her paws.
But the young tactician didn't fully think this through, believe it or not.
For you see, while pissing in a plant pot, one doesn't really have to worry about the volume of their mess due to the dirt's natural ability to absorb water (and other such substances). When dealing with an empty recepticle, one must be conscious of its size. Being a teacup, originally intended for steeping and sipping, it wasn't made to contain such a deluge of fluids. When the golden water began to spill over the edge, panic set in, and in a brilliant moment of risk prevention, she moved the cup over the wash basin to continue her relief.
Over the sides it flowed, dripping into the steel tub that held their used dishes from the day. An unexpected addition to her indulgence, but one that she found immediate delight in; to the point where she started to piss directly onto the dishware. A pre-rinse, if you will.
By the time the stream had died down, her heart was racing and the joy made her cheeks dimple from her smile. That was it. That was exactly what she was looking for. She needed more of this, to explore this further. But what to-
Footsteps. Well, specifically, hoofsteps. Judging from the swiftness of them and the lack of extra weight, it wasn't her motherâŠ
Noire! Her sister had more of her mother's bovine genes, so it had to be her.
⊠Oh Gods, Noire was coming.
Thinking quick, Morgan placed the teacup on the counter and swiftly began to take her leave in the opposite direction. A hand fuddled with her trousers to cover back up, and as she darted into the hall, turning a corner to hide herself, she let out a sigh of relief when she confirmed that she hadn't been caught.
"Ooooh! I can't believe himâŠ" She could hear Noire grumble from the kitchen, stomping about angrily. "That pompous ass! He has the nerve to critique MY form, only to use it as an excuse to press against me! He's a fucking pervert, a chauvanist pig, a⊠aâŠ!"
Her sister's anger was clear as day. And when she was angry, that's when her body would start acting up.
Though it was hard to hear from under the complaining and stomping, Morgan could hear the rumblings and blasts of gas passing from beyond her sister's bovine cheeks.
Poor girl. Any time she was nervous, angry, embarrassed - any emotion, really - her bowels would act up and the bovine's signature gas would start to bellow out, which would just cause her emotions to flare, and the cycle would repeat until she was left alone.
Which worked out well for getting people away from her, despite the humiliation it brought.
"Breathe⊠BreatheâŠ" Morgan could hear her sister trying to calm herself down using some techniques mother had taught her. A string tugged at her heart. She should go out and comfort her, see if there's anything she could- "I need a drink."
⊠do.
She was going to pour a fresh drink, right? Morgan poked her head from around the corner to check. Right?
But her sister was standing by the cup that Morgan had filled with her own 'tea'. Why was she doing that? Did she think it was just left out and forgotten? Surely she would clean it out and- oh. Oh she was bringing it to her lips. Well, surely she'd smell it and-
Down the hatch.
Morgan's muscles tensed up. She should run out there and stop her! Shouldn't she? But as she stood there, gripping the corner of the wall like she was about to bolt, she found her paws stuck in place. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move.
There was that rush. That excitement, running through her blood like some sweet tonic. Something about her darling, innocent sister unknowingly gulping down her pissâŠ
And she wasn't spitting it out. Noire downed the teacup like she had been in the Plegian deserts without a waterskin. Finally slamming the cup back down with a gasp, Morgan could see Noire realizing what she had done was stupid. That bovine tail twitched, and her large ears bounced about as all her senses tried to parse just what the hell she drank.
Until she finally turned to the washbasin and spit out what she could, tongue blowing a raspberry to get off what she could while the bulk of the salty flavor clung to her tastebuds.
"Eewww! Ew ew ew!" Noire whined, flailing her hands in pure displeasure while her bubbly rear made its own protests in turn. "Wh-Who made that?! That's⊠bleugh!" More spitting into the basin followed, and Morgan knew that it was time to retreat; lest she see the red of her sister's oxen fury.
But as she made her escape, darting down the halls of the manor to make a break for her room, she couldn't stop smiling. Now that⊠that would be a high to chase. Maybe getting others involved was the next logical step, which only made the stories about her mother seem all the more probable.
Days passed. Morgan didn't want to make another move too quickly and she had to see how Noire would react from there. Noire's complaints to Swan - since complaining to Tharja was just a terrible idea given her parenting style - didn't lead to anyone being figured. When whining about the incident to her sister later on, Noire said that it must've been some foul vinegar or some such that someone left out.
A good enough excuse that Morgan didn't even need to give any input. The vinegar incident.
But that only made her brain hypothesize more. What if it couldn't be explained away so easily? How long would it take for her to be caught? Something about the act of relieving herself, the risk of getting caught, and someone else getting involved against their knowledge⊠all factors that mixed together into such an intoxicating situation.
Morgan's next move had to be bigger, but not too big.
And upon delivering a letter to Noire's room, the situation presented itself to her like a nameday gift.
Her room was perfectly clean and tidy, in accordance to her sister's own anal practices - not that kind. The bed was perfectly made, with all the clothes folded neatly in her drawers. Nothing was left out on the floor, either. It was as if a maid had freshly swept through.
Which meant it was a blank canvas, ready for Morgan's artistic tastes to grace it. But with limited paint, her target had to be specific. Something Noire would notice and be unable to deny what it was. SomethingâŠ
Like her bed. The fluffy comforter that covered it was snow white, with only scant traces of fur that her sister had shed over time. Truly, it was like a cloud that someone could slip into and doze off into an enternal sleep.
The sound of moving cloth ruffled through the room as Morgan dropped her trousers once more. Like she was getting ready to sleep, she lifted the covers and slid under them, scooting to the center of the bed and half-tucking herself in. Her exposed canine cock tented against the covers and Morgan watched as it twitched, hardening from how soft it was â and in preperation of what she was to do.
Something about wetting her sister's bed made Morgan giggle. Oh, how Noire would react. Her mind raced with all the different outcomes; from shock, to disgust, to denial, reasoning, bargainingâŠ
And she swooned as she felt the pressure built up in her bladder starting to lessen.
While the warmth of her piss began to spread into the blankets, a good bit of the stream simply cascaded back down her cock, catching on her hips and following down around the curves to soak into the sheets. She hadn't even thought about the additional factor of wetting herself, but now that she was feeling it, it was a sensation that she catalogued for further exploration later.
The dark spot that her mark had made gradually spread out on the comforter, while the mattress below grew soggy as the hot wolf piss stained it. Morgan could already smell that aroma rising from below, and with it gathering under the blankets like a covered pot, the smell when Noire lifted the blankets at night would be like nothing else. A shame she'd just have to hear about it second-hand.
But even as her flow stopped, Morgan found herself relaxing in the bed still. Something about laying in her own mess like this, reveling in the warmth and excitement it brought, made the experience all the better. A yawn escaped her lips and she stretched out, just about ready to take a nap.
Though it wouldn't be quite the same, the idea of wetting her own bed to help her sleep tonight definitely had some merit.
Morgan could feel the throes of sleep creeping up on her. While it was tempting to remain here, sleeping like a baby in a mess of her own making, only to surprise her sister upon her return⊠Now wasn't the right time for it.
Prying herself out of the bed, she took a second to enjoy the damp warmth that surrounded her hips before taking her trousers off the ground and casually slipping them on. She made sure to fix the bed before she left; she didn't want Noire to think anything was amiss without looking closer.
And when she left, there was barely a sign that the bed had been tempered with.
The call to battle had been sounded, and Morgan was there to answer it.
While she was focused on indulging her new desires, her dream of being just like her mother hadn't diminished. She still yearned to be the great tactician her mother was and to carry her allies to victory with her techniques. When bandits decided to make a move on the recently unionized farmers on the outskirts of Ylisse, Swan had dubbed it the best way to test her daughter. Bandits wouldn't be a problem, and her allies would report how well Morgan's tactics worked.
Morgan's squad was small but mighty. To supply ranged attacks, Noire had joined them (at Swan's insistence), and for hit-and-run attacks, Gerome and his wyvern Minerva had joined up. Joining Morgan on the frontlines was the ever snotty and cocky mercanary, Severa, eager to prove herself better than her own mother in yet another unspoken contest.
The plan was simple. Noire would wait in the trees for the bandits to approach the farm, then fire off a smokebomb in their midst. From there, Severa and Morgan would rush into the fray, while Gerome scooped up enemy combatants and dragged them away for solo encounters.
And what a plan it was.
The pride that welled up in Morgan's chest as each step was pulled off was unparalleled. Truly, this is what it meant to be a tactician. Unleashing devistating maneuvers on your foes while mitigating the risk to your allies, all so people would make it home safe in the end⊠That rush of satisfaction - punctuated as her charged Thoron spell pierced through two enemies in a line - was blissful. In comparison to her lewd rush of her indulgences, well⊠it was hard to pick her preference.
By the time the smoke had disipated, their skirmishes had broken off into one-on-one encounters. Bandits had found Noire's nest and were rushing it, but with Severa cutting them off before they got too close and Noire's superior height advantage, her sister was in no risk of any danger.
That didn't mean Noire wasn't nervous, as the occasional torrent of butt-blasts from the treeline showed.
Their retreat had been cut off, thanks to Gerome and Minerva being parked behind the group, easily swiping down straglers as they tried to escape. With minimal injuries, the battle had seemed to be won.
"Ha! Think twice before you mess with our people!" Morgan shouted with a howl of almost feral delight as an Elwind launched a miscreant into two of their coconspirators. "The Shepherds protect these lands, and if you wish to harm our people, you need to go through us!"
Holding her blade up high, the light of the sun caught against it with a glint of light. Looking at her fallen foes before her, stumbling around, trying to retreat while blood dripped from their bodies and fear glazed over their eyes⊠The rush of adrenaline from combat swelled in her heart, her brain, herâŠ
Morgan the Wolf grinned.
Planting the tip of her sword in the dirt, her now free hand swished to the crotch of her pants, deftly undoing the button keeping it secured around her waist, and down they fell into the matted grass below.
Before foe and friend alike, the commander of this sect of the Shepherds was now standing in the open, with a fat canine cock on full display like a flagpole of victory.
And the noise each party made when her golden spring began to flow was unique to each person.
Severa gagged, hastily looking away as she shouted something about that being disgusting.
Gerome was worried, but politely avoided his gaze, calling out to ask if she was afflicted with some sort of spell to make her act in such an outlandish way.
Noire squealed and covered her mouth, thus dropping her bow in the process. So many stray puzzle pieces had begun falling into place now, all forming a clear portrait before her. One that made her bellow out an angrily mooing, "Morgaaaaaaan!" while her fat ass echoed a similar sentiment.
And somehow, this was the straw that broke the bandits' back. The fear, panic, pure disbelief on their faces were brighter than the sun above, and it was this act that made them drop their weapons and scramble away like a den of rats from an exterminator.
"The bitch is nuts!" "She lost her Godsdamned mind!" "K-Keep that freak away from me!"
Their shouts of fear as they practically tripped over themselves to escape, using their own weapons as crutches and canes to support themselves as they left⊠Morgan couldn't help but laugh, her grin growing more wicked as she watched their desperate flight.
She really was Tharja's daughter after all, it seemed.
With so many eyes watching, even those that had been averted out of modesty or disgust⊠never before had the act of relieving herself been so⊠well, relieving. Her dick was at full mast, high and proud as the head cast forth the fountain of yellow salted liquid. It caught the light; glistening, shining, like diamonds and jewelry being tossed like candy. She was watering the earth with her own self, letting the blades of grass below partake in her piss like an elixir of life, andâŠ
In Grima's name, this arrousal was like nothing else⊠â„
The foes had fled, leaving weapons and the bodies of fallen allies behind them. The battle had been won, and as the stream of piss slowed down to a drip, Morgan found herself riding a high - almost completely forgetting that she had exposed her secret, and now had witnesses.
"I can't believe it. Did I not raise you better than this?!"
Swan was careful not to yell, but the frustration was plain as day in her voice. While Morgan was sat in the family living room, her mother stood before occasionally pacing around as she delivered her lecture. The canine's ears were flat against her head and her eyes bore holes into the floor.
"Did someone put you up to this? Surely you didn't pick it up on your own. Did Aunt Lissa tell you to do this?" Swan's brown eyes pierced Morgan, making her yip in surprise and jump an inch in her seat. "Tell the truth. I know when you're lying, Morgan Lovejoy."
Aunt Lissa? What would Lissa have to do with it? Following the stories about her mother's promiscuousness awlways led back to an old prank war with Lissa, but what did she have to do with it?
"No! Of course not. Aunt Lissa would never," Morgan declared emphatically, which got a laughing snort out of her mother. "IâŠ"
"Were you specifically tormenting Noire, or are there more incidents that I haven't heard about?"
"⊠W-Well, there was a flower pot-"
Swan groaned, pushing her glasses up her muzzle while rubbing the bridge. She mumbled something under her breath, quiet enough that even Morgan's specialized ears couldn't pick up on.
"But⊠I just wanted to be like you!" The confession made Swan freeze. She didn't look at her daughter, but her eyes remained locked into an abyssal forward stare. "People have mentioned about you doing it a ton in the past, and I just⊠well, I didn't want them to slander your name like that! But when I reasoned it out, I figured you had a reason, and so I tried it andâŠ"
Morgan couldn't read her mother's expression. The light in her eyes was faded, and from her jaw hanging loose, it was like she was just given the worst news of her life.
Which - considering all the events in her life - was really saying something.
"One thing led to another and⊠it was so exciting, IâŠ" Morgan said softly, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. Unfortunately, she was a mama's girl through and through, and having her mother mad at her was the worst news she could've gotten.
Which - considering all the events in her life - was really saying something.
"I'm sorry," she managed to squeak out before she finally let herself cry, but only softly. She knew that she was in the wrong, and she deserved whatever punishment that-
Swan's movement was sudden and swift. In no time at all, she cleared the distance between her and her daughter and had her lifted up into a tight hug. Morgan gasped in surprise, freezing at first before gradually returning the gesture.
"No, no⊠Do not apologize, my child," Swan's voice was soft now, warm, reminding her of all the times that she would comfort and console Noire. "I should be the one to apologize. I shouldn't be so harsh when you're merely exploring what your body wants. You're a growing girl, and Naga knows what's going on in that body of yours."
Morgan was in disbelief. She⊠hadn't done anything wrong�
"Your hormones are probably going wild. It's natural for you to act out like this," her mother continued, reaching up to gently stroke her scruffly hair. "⊠Look. The stories⊠they're true. Technically. I'm not going to go into detail, but⊠yes. There was a phase a long time ago where I indulged in that⊠act." The admission made Morgan gasp and pull away from the hug enough to meet her mother's blushing gaze. "But I've matured since then."
The relief that spread across Morgan's chest was sublime. She might've still been in trouble, but at least mother wasn't mad at her - and it seemed like she understood the urges and instincts that had been dominating her brain ever since she first stumbled upon it.
After releasing her daughter from the hug, she moved to sit beside her, tapping her thigh a couple times. Swan's face was that of contentment, though the hints of embarassment were still painted on her cheeks.
"⊠You're a grown woman. So I can't stop you if this is a path that you want to pursue. It is your heritage, in a wayâŠ" She sighed. "So at the very least, let me teach you how I've been doing it, so you can partake responsibly."
"⊠Partake? Current tense?" Morgan paused, the realization lighting up in her mind moments after the words were spoken. "You still�"
"HmmmphâŠ" came her mother's gruff reply, crossing her arms a little bit as she closed her eyes. Seemed like something she didn't want to admit to either. "There are things you should and shouldn't do, and you should never involve people unless they want to be. And that includes your sister."
Low blow. Morgan winced a little with an anxious chuckle.
And so the two bonded, chatting over their habits; Morgan all to eager to share her stories, while Swan remained more reserved, pointing out what she should and shouldn't have done. Guidelines were set, rules were made, and in the endâŠ
"Now. This primarily is for marking your territory, so predators and others know what land is yours," Swan explained as she led Morgan out of their front door, shutting it behind them. "Something I routinely do is⊠mark our home. I know no predators will come our way, but⊠something about it brings me comfort."
Morgan stared at their front door with newfound awe. Her mother did that? She knew she cared, but to create such wards against would-be enemies⊠She never stopped thinking about her family, did she?
One of the young canine's ears flicked as she heard metal against leather, the sound of a belt being undone. Looking to her side, Swan had lowered her pants just enough to expose her cock - far larger and fatter than her own - and had lowered her stance to something familiar. Swan caught her gaze, and despite the embarrassment, she managed to give her a little smile and nod.
The excitement was impossible for young Morgan to hide. Her tail flailed about like a branch in a storm as she practically tore the button off her trousers to let hers fall. But she quickly caught them before they went too far down her legs. Her mother was doing it differently; subtlely. So she followed her guidance and kept her pants up to her waist, her cock given just enough room to work andâŠ
Mother and daughter, with their powers combined, let loose. Their beams of golden liquid spilled forth like twin streams, falling upon their front stoop and splashing against the foundation of the house. From the puddle upon the stone, the piss spread around like a liquid spiderweb with no rhyme or reason to its directions.
Morgan couldn't help but let out a laugh. This feeling⊠it wasn't making her heart race. She wasn't getting heated, her blood pumping, nor any of the other feelings from her previous times indulging herself. This was just a soft, warm bonding moment between her and her mother; making up for all the lost time from the doomed future.
And as their flow regressed to a dribble, there was a click. The mother and daughter Lovejoy froze, with Swan quicker on the uptake as she began to fuss with her pants - only for the front door to open, and Noire to greet them.
All parties had paused, like in disbelief. Noire, for all her eccentricities, seemed surprisingly calm. Her eyes went between her mother, her sister, and then down to their cocks, dribbling and on display. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, inadvertantly getting a goof whiff of combined canine musk, before finally stepping back and shutting the door once more.
The door clicked once, twice, three times as various locks were put into place.
"Oh, Gods," Swan groaned, hiding her face in her hand once more while she finished fixing her outfit.
But Morgan didn't mind. Her smile remained as she tucked her own cock away, beaming at her mother with pride.
"Heh! Well, guess the family secret's out. No need to hide it anymore~" She said with a grin, leaning in as it turned to a smirk.
Surprisingly, this wasn't what Swan wanted to hear, as she simply shook her head in defeat.
"And we're truly in the dog house nowâŠ"
