Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is my first time successfully penning a smut-fic based on an animated fandom. For many years I’ve wanted to write ones about Family Guy and American Dad, but to no avail. I get excited about concepts and visualize the story, but it falls apart when writing, as they’re cartoon characters.

Which is a bit ironic considering how much I enjoy hentai and animated porn, be it 3D or AI, stills or videos.

At last! This one came together nicely. With the visual assistance of some titillating renditions I found via a splendid site called Kurosearch, I brought this short story to life. The key was to first reimagine my main characters (the females, anyway) in slightly exaggerated versions of their original cartoon selves.

Helen Parr, aka Elastigirl, and her daughter Violet.

In the first Incredibles movie (2004)—the only one I’ve seen, mind you—Helen has a mirror scene, putting a brazen spotlight on her design’s hippiness. So, I’d argue, these fleshier renditions aren’t that far-fetched, and the sexualization of her character in art is almost warranted.

Although there are aspects of the characters’ personalities from that movie portrayed here, I’ve manipulated them a little and mostly just focus on my own directives.

In this story, Violet and Dash are two years older than they were in the first film, making them 16 and 12, respectively. Apart from that, their powers remain the same (Helen can stretch, unconditionally; Bob, her husband, is super-strong; Dash, their son, is super-fast; and Violet can turn invisible, as well as form force-fields). These powers come into play in the story, too. Not just in the action scenes, but the smut ones as well.

Fans and non-fans alike, I hope you enjoy! 

Chapter Text

The base was embedded in the jungle to the point that its visibility from the air was nonexistent. Fortunately for the Incredibles, their tech provided them a scan of the military facility, all nine acres of it. Including the four additional acres spreading underground.

Helen piloted the Manta Jet until she no longer needed to. Its stingray form and dark navy aesthetic helped it camouflage into the early night sky. Once autopilot took over, she stood from the seat to turn and face the interior. Her son was standing right there, as if waiting for an order.

They bumped into each other briefly, Helen’s snugly contained D-cups fleetingly mushing into Dash’s chest. Their height difference was less distinct than it was two years ago, during their first-ever mission together, to save Bob. This current op had so many similarities with that mission that nostalgia was unavoidable.

“Sweetheart, what’re you doing here? Go get ready to infil. Where’s your father?”

“Giving Violet a pep-talk. She has cold feet again.”

Helen sighed and shook her head. She looked past Dash’s blonde head to see her husband and daughter toward the back of the jet. His big hands were on her small shoulders as he spoke to her, compassion in his eyes and voice. This comforted Helen, and reassured her that Violet’s tentativeness wouldn’t last.

“And do you need one, mister?” Helen asked Dash.

He scoffed playfully, and puffed his flat chest out.

“Who, me? I’m courage incarnate.”

Helen giggled. “You’re cute incarnate, is what you are.” She held his head and kissed his brow. Then she whispered: “I know I say it ad nauseum, but be careful down there, kiddo.”

“I will, Mom.” He smiled back.

Helen’s chest warmed.

The jet began to circle. Helen leapt into action, slipping past Dash. She briefly thinned herself so as to not push him over, and then returned to her regular long-legged yet stocky form as she marched toward the back of the jet. Dash savored the sight from behind, the corpulent jiggle of her fat ass stuffed into the skintight black-and-red bodysuit she wore. The yellow belt cinching her narrow waist and the black boots pulled up to her thighs complemented her natural curves.

If nothing else, the bodysuit on Dash, while not necessarily comfortable, shared the same black groin as the others—helping camouflage the erections he got.

“We’ve gotta go, before I’m forced to retune the autopilot,” Helen said.

“You’re good, aren’t you, dear?” Bob asked his daughter.

She smiled, shaking off the jitters, and nodded at him. Then she looked at her mom, and her black eyebrows furrowed a little.

“Sorry for being a scaredy-cat again.” Then her expression strengthened, and her black-gloved hands formed fists. “But I’m ready!”

“Atta girl!” Helen beamed. She reached out without moving her body, her left arm stretching like a noodle, to open the access hatch. Air whipped into the jet. “Ready, Dash?”

He nodded. This was Dash’s favorite part.

As it was, unbeknownst to the others, both Bob’s and Violet’s.

First Helen leapt out of the jet, with Dash in her clutches. She literally wrapped herself around him, like a burrito, ensuring his safety. The anatomical science of her abilities exceeded comprehension, especially in Dash’s young brain. Although his love of being enveloped by her wasn’t sexual, it was deeply emotional, and still sent chills through him.

Closer to the ground, after crashing through the first layer of jungle canopy, Helen distended her torso in the shape and function of a parachute, while her arms hammocked Dash. Meanwhile, above, Violet showed latent signs of uncertainty again. To which Bob cradled her face and said “don’t worry, princess, Daddy’s got you” before kissing her forehead, and engulfing her lean frame in his super-resilient embrace. Then he backpedaled out the open hatch, free-falling with zero fear.

If it weren’t for the exhilaration of the plummet, and the whipping of wind—before giant leaves and tree branches broke around his body, sans pain—Bob would’ve gotten an erection from holding Violet so snugly against him.

They landed a few hundred feet east of Helen and Dash.

Watching his mom reshape into her natural form without an issue was always an ambivalent sight. It was one-part strange, but also obscurely hot. There was never a time that the return to her curvaceous figure didn’t result in a casual jiggle in all the right parts.

“Cozy landing, kiddo? No boo-boos?” Helen asked. She didn’t care that Bob derided her for still babying Dash after all these years. Part of her hoped he would maintain his courage and kindness through his critical teen years, which Violet was still enduring, and not have the sort of cold feet that she too frequently experienced.

If anything, her pampering seemed to only motivate Dash, not weaken him. A kind superhero could still be bold and strong and fearless. She had tried to convince her husband that emotional softness could lead to fortification and transcend physical strength.

But Bob was all about being the strongest he could be, and unfortunately the man had some sexism still in him, that whole “women have a place in the household,” and society in general, mindset. It was the ‘30s, after all, but given her own capabilities—and Violet’s—Helen thought there was no excuse for that perception. Especially with them.

More often than not, Helen wished Bob revered her virtues and strengths like Dash did. That boy had her on an unparalleled pedestal, and it never failed to invigorate her.

“Thanks to you, I’m unscathed,” Dash replied to her, smiling.

She returned the smile, and then heard the chatter of an armed patrol down the way. She beckoned Dash and they slinked deeper into the jungle, with a vague sense of direction. Their outfits were, unfortunately, not very mindful of jungle camouflage. Especially at night.

So they stayed low.

Closer to the foot patrol than Helen and Dash, Bob saw the armed men before Violet. He flung her to the ground, soft soil amid a throng of large ferns. Bob sprawled on top of her, not so much as concealment, but protection.

Violet could feel her father’s bulge press against her ass, until it nestled between her prone cheeks. She started to lift her head, to say something to him. She got out “Dad, you don’t need to—” before Bob pressed her head down, his right hand on top of it, and her right cheek mushed against the soil. The pressure, the strength, and the exaggerated protectiveness, made Violet’s pussy twitch. She bit her lip, even as small chunks of soil entered her mouth, and one eye was forced to close.

“Daddy, you’re crushing me,” she mumbled, barely coherent.

Bob watched the foot patrol pass them, somehow not noticing his hulking mass in the vivid bodysuit among the foliage. He absentmindedly felt his cock begin to swell, and that it was nestled between his daughter’s plump butt cheeks. It was the only part of her body that had any meat to it.

After the patrol had gone, Bob looked around to see if he saw or heard the others. Nothing. They were in the clear.

“Stay down, princess,” he said, looking down at her and applying a second hand to the back of her head. Then he grinded his slowly swelling cock against her prone ass, and bit his lip. “It isn’t safe.”

Violet whimpered, muffled. “Yes, Daddy.”

A few seconds later, the break of a twig and the glimpse of red fabric caught his attention. It was Helen and Dash, slinking through the night-clad jungle toward them. He rolled off Violet, briefly sizing her up, enjoying the view of her lying face-down, with her bubble butt a distinct protrusion. Then he extended a hand to help her, apologizing.

“It-It’s okay, I’m grateful for your protection.”

Violet noticed the approach of the others, and instead of attempting to hide her blushing, pale face, she suddenly vanished from sight.

Helen and Dash emerged into view. Helen briefly embraced Bob, before she called out in a whisper: “It’s okay, Violet, it’s us. It’s safe.”

Having collected herself, Violet became visible again, albeit ten paces away, to Bob’s right.

“Sorry, I got startled,” she said. Half a lie.

“It’s fine. But let’s get going, I think I know where our entrance is.”

The family followed Helen, her sense of direction unmatched. They still stayed low and quiet to avoid alerting patrols. It then occurred to Bob’s subconscious that he didn’t need to lie on top of Violet, or even attempt to protect her back there, since she could simply become invisible. He felt like a dolt, but wasn’t completely blind to Violet’s emotional vulnerability, ache for protection, and a clinginess to being a Daddy’s girl even at sixteen, much less with super-powers.

Despite giving his wife shit for babying their much younger son, Bob didn’t feel any kind of bad for wanting to continue coddling Violet. After all, men were supposed to protect women, and if Violet was to ever grow up to become a dutiful homemaker, he better start grooming…

Meanwhile, all Dash could think of was how to impress his mom, how to keep revering her without being too obvious, and even from a withdrawn state, simply admiring her many virtues in action.

They reached the structure, and a ventilation shaft that required a boost to climb into.

“Now, we just need to go inside, and finish discreetly,” Helen said, oblivious to how suggestive that statement was.

Ironically, it was all Dash and Bob could think of, albeit to different people. And discreetly? Not likely.

Chapter Text

With her ability, Helen easily hoisted Dash into the ventilation shaft. He’d be lying, and would if put to the test, if he didn’t confess to enjoying having her hands on him in any way. Much less to move him.

But when it was Bob’s turn, he tried to playfully say “as if I need your help,” but it only annoyed Helen to the point of just hoisting herself. Thus forgetting about Violet, and proceeding down the shaft, crawling behind Dash. The boy didn’t have to be standing to be super-fast. Any little movement could yield enhanced speed, which made him undefeated at most racket games within the family. Presently, he crawled way ahead of Helen, although with her stretchy arms she could just as well slingshot her way along, swiftly catching up.

Meanwhile, Bob sighed and looked over at Violet.

“Was I being harsh? Honestly.”

“No, Dad,” she said, with a slight pout, and a restraint from letting out the extra D and Y. Much like her little brother’s use of Mommy, she only said Daddy during moments of elation, celebration, or pleading. “You’re right to say that. You are superior, after all. It isn’t a bad thing. I look up to you.”

The ‘superior’ line went straight to Bob’s head. His big ol’ head.

“Well, heck, princess. Thank you.” He hugged his daughter in a wholesome moment that just as quickly deteriorated into the perverse, at least subconsciously. He simply looked down and cherished the rondure of Violet’s sixteen-year-old bubble butt in the skintight black-and-red bodysuit.

Avoiding the urge to touch it, Bob withdrew, and asked if she was ‘ready.’ She began to say “for what” when he suddenly squeezed her tiny waist and lifted her off the ground with absolute ease. She entered the ventilation shaft, but unlike his wife, Bob couldn’t stretch. He was just tall enough to hoist her to the edge, and then let go. Violet’s upper half inside the vent, her pelvis and legs stuck out.

A passing guard, if she didn’t go invisible, would see it almost as clearly as a spotlight. At least the black near-thong segment of her posterior uniform wasn’t yellow like the belt above it, but still. A bit frantically at first, her legs kicked in the open. Then Bob hoisted himself up, and used his entire face to push her forward. His face momentarily mushed against Violet’s parted ass and inner thighs, his Neanderthalic nose connecting with her taint before she slid into the shaft on her stomach.

Violet had let out a soft yelp when she felt the impact, and the realization of what happened pleased her mind.

“Sorry about that, dear,” Bob said, behind her. He barely fit in the shaft, his torso was so burly.

“I’m okay, but thank you,” she said. “I can be such a klutz sometimes.”

“You’re doing great.”

Violet smiled and continued to crawl forward.

Far ahead of them, Dash had dropped into what appeared t be an empty storage room. He watched his mom squeeze through the opening, savoring her attempt to remain natural despite how easily she could just narrow herself to drop through. After she landed with a jiggle, Dash reached up and plucked some foliage debris—a leaf here, a twig there—from her otherwise flawless bob of dark auburn hair.

“Oh, why thank you, darlin’,” she said, quietly, with a smile.

“Say, Mom, why didn’t you just stretch your way through?”

Helen blushed and walked past him. He unabashedly ogled the sway of her hips and light bounce of her ass meat in the uniform. Helen didn’t notice. Dash adjusted his crotch.

“It’s silly, I guess,” she sighed.

He approached her. “Tell me.”

Another sigh. “You know how your father was about his extra weight, couple years back. He hasn’t said it outright, but I know he’s been judging me for mine lately. And I guess I’m just trying to be more accepting of it.”

Dash scoffed, and marched away from her, to stare up at the shaft opening. She approached him, put her hands on his shoulders.

“What is it, kiddo?”

“I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind, Mom. Because that’s just absurd.”

“Oh, honey.” She turned him. “You’re my little sweetheart, you know that, right?”

He blushed lightly. And then nodded.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “you’re more of a man than that big doofus is, especially where it counts.”

She tapped Dash’s chest. He smiled.

And then Violet slipped through, landing ninja-like. Dash faced her and said “about time,” to which Violet shoved him, as only siblings could bicker.

Eventually Bob emerged, having to struggle through the opening given his robust shoulders and biceps. He landed awkwardly, but quietly enough. Helen beckoned with her head and they approached the door leading out.

Their mission had been gone over thoroughly before boarding the jet. They didn’t even need to recite it again.

A terrorist organization with remarkable funding held illegal radioactive materials in the bowels of this facility, reportedly to make an unprecedented explosive device over the next few days. Helen and Dash were to infiltrate the command center so they could deactivate security doors, allowing Bob and Violet to enter the containment lab. Individually, their objectives overlapped.

Dash would provide a distraction, as he was far too fast to catch, while Helen literally slipped into the command center and disabled the security doors via a computer console. Then, using her invisibility, Violet would disarm guards in the area before her father utilized his brute strength to incapacitate them. Once locating the radioactive material, purportedly already amassed in a single two-ton device, Bob was to haul it outside. From there, things got tricky. More security was liable to come down on them, but with everyone working together they should be able to transport the device to the ocean, not even a full mile hike from where they entered; Violet would enrobe the device in a force-field, while it sank. Once deep enough, her connection would fail, and the device would be compromised from water penetration and pressure, causing a submerged blast. With the device not fully completed, this would result in a harmless implosion.

Case closed.

Afterward, local government would be safe to raid the facility and render it clear of danger.

“Good luck,” Bob told his wife and son, with a confident nod.

Helen quietly opened the door, peeking both ways with her head at the end of a slender neck.

Strangely, behind her, Dash wondered why his father wasn’t all over her. At least an ass grab, maybe a grind and a kiss. Something. Instead, he was giving another quiet pep-talk to his pathetic sister. So Dash rolled his eyes and sized up Mommy himself.

This came moments after Violet had taken note of her own mother’s plump derrière herself. It almost disgusted her, and she had the rude thought “no wonder Daddy gets hard for me.”

“All clear,” Helen whispered. Without withdrawing her head, one of her hands extended to fumble for Dash’s shoulder. Then he followed, and they crept into the hall. Helen returned to normal form, and they navigated the corridors quietly.

Although thoroughly enjoying his view of following Helen, Dash was also mindful of the mission. Once they approached the intersection of corridors outside the command center, Helen paused outside a pair of motion-activated double doors. An armed guard walked past it every six seconds, just outside its sensor range.

“You’re up, darlin’,” Helen said.

He nodded, a cute smile fading into a wickedly confident smirk, before he darted down the hall. Careening around a corner, Dash lured the shouting guard away from the door. Helen proceeded, using her elongating legs as a means to slingshot herself down the corridor and through doors. She had to incapacitate one guard past that point, which she did fairly easily using her evasive body and slingshot limbs.

Dash caught up to speed past her, in time to lure away the final guard, to her surprise. As she reached the last set of doors, which opened per her arrival, she heard Dash shouting down the corridor.

“The first one got out, Mom! I think he’s sealing the doors.”

By out, she assumed he meant from whatever room Dash tried to lock the first guard in. And then she sprang through the doors, but they closed around her waist, before he could advance her lower half. The molecular elasticity of her physique allowed Helen to keep herself from being crushed, however, the door’s inner motors seemed superior against her attempts to push them open.

Dash successfully lured both guards into a storage closet, then stole all their radio and remote equipment, ultimately locking them inside via an analog method that they couldn’t bypass. Unless they had the strength of his father.

Afterward, Dash caught up to his mom in the blink of an eye.

“I’m here, I can help,” Dash declared. Suddenly his gaze feasted on Helen’s copious backside, her greatest physical asset stuck on his side of the doors. The astounding miracle that they had closed around her shrunken-to-a-finger’s-width-waist made it virtually impossible for Helen to see through the crack, apart from a blur of movement.

“It’s okay, honey,” Helen said. “I can reach the controls from here.”

Obviously. Yes!

But Dash was suddenly rendered incapable of squashing his urges. He seized his mom’s hip meat with both hands, palms and digits sinking into the bodysuit-clad flesh, before slamming his groin into her ass. There was an audible wallop and Helen let out a gasp.

“I can push you through, Mom!” Dash professed.

“Uh, that’s fine, it’s okay, don’t worry, kiddo. I’m accessing the security terminal as we spea—”

“I can’t be useless!” Dash exclaimed, sounding frustrated. His body, independent of his arms, began moving back and forth, at a climbing speed. “I may not be as strong as Dad, but I’m fast, Mommy!”

His erection was contained, but the sensation of each impact was felt. More so for Dash than Helen. Then the speed of his full-body thrusts approached Mach 1, essentially spanking Helen’s ass meat ten times every millisecond, disorienting her on the other side. When she heard the doors’ gears grind, however, it occurred to her that he was actually having an effect. The vibrations must be—

Helen stopped typing and flexed her waist. The expansion assisted Dash and the doors widened just enough for her hips to shrink and pull through. Dash’s momentum carried him after her, a heartbeat before the doors clamped shut behind him. He braced the far wall, head bowed to catch his breath, while Helen’s natural figure re-formed.

Dash wasn’t truly exhausted. He simply didn’t get tired. It was more an emotional fatigue than anything—and a way of hiding his physical arousal from Helen, at least while his subconscious worked at subduing the boner.

“I’ve got it, I’m through,” Helen said, by the computer terminal. She struck a series of keys and was done. “Containment doors are open. Bob and Violet should be on their way.”

A few seconds later, Dash felt his mom’s hands on his shoulders. Then his breasts against his back.

“You can relax, sweetheart. Thank you for helping me.”

Dash sighed and turned around to face her, looking up slightly.

“I’m sorry if I got mad. I didn’t hurt you, did I? I just felt…so powerless all of a sudden.”

“Au contraire, my dear,” she smiled. “You got the doors open, didn’t you? Helped me get unstuck. That’s leagues from powerless, and listen to me—you’re never ‘useless.’ Especially to me.”

She gently kissed his forehead. He smiled, then blushed.

Helen giggled. She walked past him.

“Let’s go, kiddo. Gotta catch-up to your father and sis. But without drawing too much attention their way. Say…where did you stash those guards?”

**

An invisible and light-footed Violet stole the weapons from the guards aiming at Bob’s hiding spot. Not just the rifles from their hands, but their holstered pistols and radios, too. She flung them down the corridor, or across the room, every engagement was like clockwork. Then Bob emerged from hiding to physically incapacitate the men, making it look easy, even those who had impressive hand-to-hand combat techniques.

She and her dad made quite the team.

It wouldn’t be until Bob dispatched the guards that Violet would reappear again. Before then, she would enjoy watching her mighty father conquer his foes without breaking a sweat. She savored how the skintight uniform conformed to his robust body, and tried to imagine his uncaged manhood flopping about.

Avoiding getting too distracted, Violet refocused on the mission.

Once they achieved access to the radiation containment chamber, the sphere-like device was gradually detached from its mount thanks to Bob’s superhuman strength. However, it was still too heavy to carry swiftly, so he rolled it through one corridor after the other, Violet leading the way to ensure he didn’t literally run into—or over—Helen and Dash. Theoretically, both could evade him in time, in their own way, but still. A precaution that Violet had volunteered for.

**

Several intersections away, Helen and Dash could hear the raucous rolling of the device, alerting them that Bob and Violet had succeeded. They believed they were a mere corner or two from converging with them, when suddenly a large cluster of armed guards stormed around one. They shouted at Helen and Dash, weapons raised.

Together, using their own powers, they launched themselves in the opposite direction. Dash could easily outrun Helen, but of course wouldn’t. Keeping this in mind, he spotted a maintenance closet once they were temporarily out of the enemy’s line-of-sight.

“In here, quick!” Dash said, opening the door.

“Dash, you can outrun them. Find your father and—”

“I’m not leaving you, Mom! Now get in.”

Helen scoffed in defeat, and swung herself inside. Dash followed, swiftly shutting the door in his wake. He squeezed past his mom, realizing how small the space was. A large electric panel adorned the wall behind them. Helen peered through a slatted grate to see which way the guards went, while praying they didn’t check this door.

“I hear them coming,” Helen whispered.

Dash looked down. It suddenly dawned on him that his mom’s ass cheeks were millimeters from touching his groin. There was maybe half a foot of space behind him to move, but instead he shifted his hips forward a little. Her cheeks depressed against his pelvis, gently.

There was a subtle motion to her own body.

“Dash, honey…can you move back any?” Helen asked, turning her head slightly.

“There’s no more room.” Dash took a breath. He heard an army of footsteps echo down the corridors outside. Helen’s gaze returned to the slats. Dash squeezed her waist and leaned against her more firmly, his erection dwarfed by the mass of her butt-meat. “You’re trembling, Mom.”

“I’m just…I’m a little scared, kiddo. I…I hope you don’t think any less of me for it.”

“I could never. But…” Dash didn’t push his groin forward anymore, just briefly side-to-side, while his snugly clothed boner throbbed. “You shouldn’t be scared. You might be the most super of us all.”

Helen smacked her lips. “You’re too sweet. And…thank you for being stubborn out there. I’d have hated if we split-up.”

His arms tightened around her waist, and his face momentarily enjoyed the tickle of her hair. When he spoke, it was a whisper.

“I could never abandon you, Mommy.”

“Oh, darlin’.” She lowered a hand from the slats to touch his arms.

Voices from the guards approached, and Helen trembled some more. There were too many of them to fight or evade, and they were approaching.

“I’m sorry I backed us into a tight corner,” he whispered. “I doomed us.”

“Nonsense, kiddo. Now hush.”

“You could always shrink to paper-thin, but I’d hate to expect that from you,” he kept whispering. “Besides, that’s Violet’s job.”

Helen let a smirk creep onto her face. She began to shake her head and demand he be quiet, but then Dash said:

“And you’re just so perfect the way you are.” Dash punctuated with a firm thrust, softly walloping her cheeks with his hips, and whimpering under his breath the word “Mommy.”

Helen’s right hand slinked behind her, arm noodled, and clasped it around her son’s mouth.

She watched the guards amass outside the door, but appear oblivious of the closet as a hiding spot. The leader divided the group into two teams, one per corridor at the T-intersection they occupied.

As their footsteps grew more distant, Helen let go of Dash, and hobbled on her feet to turn around so she could face him. All without making herself any thinner. Before Dash knew it, his bulge was nestled between Helen’s thick upper thighs, and the protrusion of her bodysuit-clad breasts brushed his face before lingering inches away.

Helen cupped his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks.

Dash blushed intensely, suddenly fearing reprimand.

“You damn near got us caught, silly boy,” she whispered.

“I’d never forgive myself.”

She simply kissed his forehead and pulled his head toward her. His face mushed against her breasts, rather the narrow bridge of fabric pulled taut over them, beneath the stylized ‘i’ symbol. His clothed cock continued to throb beneath her groin.

“I love you, darlin’,” she said.

His cock struggled against the snug confines of the uniform. His arms tightened around her waist.

“I wuv you, too, Mommy,” he responded, his voice muffled by the proximity of her breasts.

“Ready to be brave for me again, sweetie?” She asked, petting his blonde hair.

He took a deep breath and subconsciously battled his aroused thoughts, diminishing his erection. He pulled his face back, his blue eyes pitched up at her.

“Born ready,” he said. A pause. His hands descended to squeeze her fleshy hips. “Thanks to you.”

“Shucks,” she smiled.

And then reached back, for the doorknob.

**

The rest of the mission progressed as if they were being guided by some omniscient deity. As if their paths were predestined, drawn to never fail. A few hiccups here and there, but at long last, they convened near their pre-planned exit, a roll-up door eighty yards from where they had initially entered the structure.

Dash and Violet acted as sentries ahead of Bob’s rolling device of contained radiation, while Helen provided consistent peripheral lookout. It seemed that all foot patrols roaming the jungle had been brought inside the hunt them down, albeit to no avail.

After disposing of the device in the ocean, beneath the heavy glow of a full moon, Helen used a device on her wrist to remote-pilot the Manta Jet to their location. An implosion occurred beneath the waves, producing a giant splash. This, paired with the sound of the jet, was sure to draw attention to where they were on the shore.

No matter. They were aboard the Manta Jet in under a minute, before the enemy could launch any attempt to purse them in the air.

Aboard the auto-piloting craft, the family celebrated a victory, and looked forward to some respite back home.

Chapter Text

En route, Helen had congratulated Violet for her bravery and composure. Just as Bob had high-fived his son for valiant efforts and “dashing courage.” What ensued was a group hug, one that everyone enjoyed in their own way.

Helen went to embrace Violet, or perhaps Bob, and Violet was caught between them. Either way, nobody complained. Simultaneously, Dash was about to hug his mom, or perhaps his sister, so instead he felt his stubby erection mushed between Helen’s pelvis and Violet’s. Her chin collided with Dash’s right temple, driving the left side of his face into Helen’s right breast. Meanwhile, Violet’s face found itself buried in her mom’s neck, those giant tits pressing into her flat chest. Behind her, Bob’s clothed hard-on snuggled with his daughter’s bubble butt, dividing the cheeks. The pressure of his brawny chest against the back of Violet’s head only mushed his face into Helen’s neck more, and Bob’s robust arms binding them all together made the embrace one for the ages.

This unprecedented group hug lasted for nearly a solid minute before the Manta Jet lurched slightly and everybody staggered away. Some chuckles were shared, before Helen beelined for the cockpit. She sat down and regained manual control, announcing that they were minutes away.

Dash might have noticed Bob and Violet’s next exchange, had he not been shadowing his mom in the cockpit.

While gazing out a portside window, Violet felt her father’s junk once more grind against her ass. His big, callused, strong hands even touched her neck, his right palm guiding her face up to peer at him, as he loomed above her.

“I’m so gosh-darn proud of my baby girl,” he said softly.

“You are?” She asked, those big purple doe-eyes widening.

“More than you know,” Bob said, lowering his face. They kissed, gently.

Twenty feet away, Dash was resisting the urge to perform the same gesture. She was, after all, flying the jet now. Instead, his bulge prodded the outer side of her left breast, where it loomed past her bicep, and instead of looking at the contact, Helen gazed up at him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mom, I, you, you shouldn’t take your eyes off the sky—”

Helen smiled. “I’m not, darlin’.”

Dash smirked. He forgot she could do that—move her eyes independently. So, her right one was focused ahead, and her left was fixated on him.

“Something you wanted to say, kiddo?”

Dash gulped. “I just…I’m happy we made it, and I was…I dunno, I was wondering if maybe we could, like…play a game or something, the whole family, or, or just us, tomorrow?”

“I’d love that, dear. Oh! Here we are. Go and sit, sweetheart.”

He smiled, and darted away. He sat quickly, erection concealed. Violet was already plopping down, but Bob remained standing. His physical composure unmatched, and unmarred by the shuddering of the jet as Helen landed it in their backyard. The subterranean helipad would retract the jet into the mini hangar beneath the ground, once they had disembarked.

Upon doing so, they funneled into the house, hoping they woke no neighbors.

Already quite late, the rest of the night—technically early morning—unfolded akin to any other night. For the first time ever, Dash genuinely hated that Helen went to sleep in the same bed as Bob, just as Violet loathed Bob being in a bed with Helen. Their parents—how dare they be a married couple! Realizing the silliness of this, the two kids eventually fell asleep, succumbing to their own relative fatigue.

The next morning, Dash woke later than expected. Noticing the time, shy of noon, he zipped downstairs in as little as his boxers only. The kitchen, living room, and sunroom were vacant. Nothing stirred. A glimpse of the driveway indicated the car was present, but then he heard a sound upstairs.

He went to investigate.

Without thinking, Dash opened his parents’ bedroom door. He saw his mom facing a full-body mirror, her back to the door, but at an angle she couldn’t see it in the reflection. Voyeuristically, Dash watched her. Ironically, the mirror wasn’t truly full-body, in that it was a tall rectangle, not befitting of Helen’s hippy, buxom figure. Dash gulped as he ogled her from behind.

Helen was wearing a vivid red bra and thong. The backside of the latter vanished between her giant cheeks, and Dash felt dizzy with arousal. He unconsciously stepped forward, and a damn floorboard creaked. Helen turned, but Dash had already moved. Instead of zipping into the hall, however, he darted behind a curtain, near the bed’s headboard.

Helen sighed. “Only one person in this household capable of such a blur. Come out, mister.”

Dash was blushing beet-red. He crept out from behind the curtain, but was quick to drop to all fours and bow his head in shame.

“Forgive me, Mom,” he pleaded. “I meant nothing by it. I, I thought nobody was home. It, it’s so quiet.”

Helen approach, until she stood a mere two or three feet away.

“Nothing to forgive, sweetheart. You can get up.”

He gulped. “But I…” Dash’s erection hadn’t been subdued. Despite his nervousness, and shame, it still raged in his boxers.

“Violet was asking about when she’d be able to fly the Manta Jet. So Bob’s giving her a run-down on the controls, in the underground hangar. Which means, apart from us, nobody is home.”

Dash’s brow furrowed. He slowly raised his head. The view was astounding.

“Now get up, and give your mother a good-morning hug,” Helen said, rather matter-of-factly.

Dash gulped. “I, I can’t.”

She scoffed, placing a hand on a distinct hip.

“How rude. You’ve never rejected a hug from me. Certainly not last night.” She took another step closer. If he stood briskly, his head would collide with her protruding breasts. The red bra was clearly not built for suppression. “Besides. I miss my sweetheart of a son. Won’t you hop up and…give Mommy a hug?”

Dash squealed “Mommy” as he sprang to his feet. He embraced her, his face enveloped by her partially clothed cleavage, salivating into her soft breasts as his cock—having emerged through the fly of his boxers upon standing—pumping away between her upper thighs. It nestled snugly in the crevice of Helen’s meaty cameltoe, throbbing and gushing pre-cum as his hips moved independently with building momentum.

“There’s my baby boy,” Helen smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“I had a dream about you, Mommy,” Dash panted, his hips still pumping away, nearly the speed of light.

“Aww, what about?”

“That you loved me as much as I love you!” Dash’s hands raised to her breasts, squeezing them outside the bra. Except that his fingers closed and opened in a traditional squeezing gesture at a speed twenty times that of any human hand.

Helen gasped, feeling the effects of her son’s rapid breast-squeezing, and the fucking of her upper thighs. She spread the meat of her already corpulent thighs to ensure she was snugly embracing his cock, which itself was quite small compared to Bob’s, but not for lack of passion. Her pussy tingled, too, from the rapidity of his shaft through her clothed labia.

Even his tongue began to move, when he wasn’t speaking, at high speed between her breasts.

“Oh, darlin’. But I do. I assure you, I do.”

“Nuh-uh!” Dash insisted. His hands fell from her breasts to instead smack and squeeze her plethoric ass meat. It jiggled against his small hands, the speed of his slapping and squeezing compensating for how little his clutches were.

Helen let out a gasp. She cupped his face and moaned against his forehead.

“Sweetie, you’re assaulting Mommy’s fat ass!”

“This, you fucking cock-tease!” Dash exclaimed, sneering up at her. “This is how much I love you, Mommy!”

And then Dash stopped thrusting. Helen felt her son’s cock pulse and hose out viscous, hot cum between her thighs. She let it flood her taint and seep through the front of her thong, before she thinned her thighs just enough for his load to drip down them.

Slowly, quite ironically, Dash let himself relax, as cum kept squeezing out of his little balls. His hands stopped barraging her ass, arms wrapping around her narrow waist, and he buried his face between her cleavage.

“I, I’m so sorry, Mommy, I…I shouldn’t have c-cursed at you.”

“Oh, darlin’, no…you’re good, kiddo. I love you so much.”

She eventually managed to lift his face and kiss him. But not a peck on the forehead, nose, or cheek. She smooched his lips, and slowly engaged in a gentle battle of tongues. She lapped up his boyish moans, and then extended a single hand behind her. On an elongated, noodling arm she retrieved a hand towel with which she used to begin wiping her inner thighs.

“Will you be a good boy and go wash up? I want to put on some clothes and have a nice talk with you.”

He sniffled and looked up at her.

“You’re not in trouble, sweetheart. I promise.”

He nodded, and started to slink away. Then, in the blink of an eye, he dashed out into the hall, down it, and into the bathroom he shared with Violet.

Chapter Text

In the underground hangar, where the Manta Jet was stored, Bob educated Violet on the controls of the aircraft and its many functions. He apologized before telling her that she wouldn’t be able to fly it under supervision until next year, and a year after that Helen might approve of more.

“But why does she have final say?” Violet asked.

Bob sighed. He kneaded his brow and looked back at Violet, inside the illuminated jet. She had insisted on wearing her Incredibles bodysuit for this, explaining that it was “a big deal” to her. Although Bob wore plain civilian clothes—a flannel shirt and khakis—he now found it difficult to not ogle how the uniform hugged Violet’s small breasts and hippy lower half.

“She flies this thing, not me,” he finally said. “I can, but Helen’s the queen of the skies.”

Violet pouted. “You should have final say, Daddy. You’re the man, after all.”

Bob’s brow furrowed. He performed a double-take before walking up to his daughter, and staring down at her.

“Are you insinuating that my wife is inferior to me?”

Violet shrugged. “Isn’t she?”

Bob scoffed. And then smirked, briefly.

“If she is, what would that make you?”

Violet shrugged. And then knelt. Bob glimpsed how the heels of her black boots sank into her bubble butt.

“A servant,” she replied. Her big purple eyes fixated on him. His cock grew beneath the khakis, visibly warping the fabric around it. He noticed her gaze shift down.

“I oughtta punish you for having such a big mouth,” Bob said, extracting the belt from his khakis. “Much less bad-talking your own mother.”

“Sometimes I wish you’d punish her fat ass instead,” Violet sneered.

Bob had never seen or heard some fire from his otherwise shy and quiet daughter.

It turned him on.

With one hand he grabbed her black hair and pulled it toward him. Violet gasped, falling forward. Elbows and knees, her ass out. He cracked the belt down at her round butt, and it jiggled under the audible impact. Violet yelped in pain. Bob belted her again.

“Fuck, Daddy!” She exclaimed. “Punish me!”

Bob threw the belt aside and used his bare mitts to rip the tarnished bodysuit covering her ass away from the skin. Lightly pinkened, otherwise pale ass meat jiggled free. No underwear. Bob sank two meaty fingers into Violet’s pussy, and began pumping away. She shrieked, clutching his ankles.

“How’s this, you little slut!? Disrespectful cunt! You have quite the fat ass yourself, bratty little pig!”

“Daddy, oh my god!” Violet whimpered. “You’re raping me with those big, manly, callused hands!”

Bob’s khaki pants fell onto Violet’s head. Thanks, gravity. Bob stepped out of them, walked over Violet’s body, used one hand to lift her via the hair, and redirect her lithe frame toward a row of seats. He planted her face in one, squatted, and suddenly Violet felt the hot weight of her father’s giant cock. It landed on her ass, reaching her tailbone, where the glans palpably pulsed. He thrusted toward her, and his taut balls slammed against her tickling asshole.

Violet’s thin body lurched forward. She yelped.

“You’re right, baby girl,” he said. “You are inferior to me. Nothin’ but meat. I should’ve wrecked this tight cunt last night.”

Bob tugged on her black hair, whipping her head back. The view of her flustered, inverted face was delicious. Violet was drooling and her eyes gleamed.

“Unlike Mommy, I know my place, Daddy. Use me as you see fit.”

“‘Fit.’” Bob smirked, deviously. “I don’t know if I will. But I’ll make sure I do.”

Violet bit her lip. Bob guided his cock inside his daughter’s virgin pussy. He crammed in, her snatch dripping wet. A thick glob of pre-cum oozed out of Bob as he buried his meat in her. Violet let out a low sound of defeat, and then a whimper of pain. Her feet kicked the floor of the jet behind her father’s heels.

And then Bob thrusted.

Violet’s body rocked forward. His hands retreated to her fleshy hips and ass. They were dwarfed by Helen’s, but were still better than a bone-skinny girl. Bob squeezed and began thrusting more aggressively.

Her sound built in pleasure, and weakness.

Tears streaked her face.

“Yes, h-harder, g-give it to me harder, Daddy.”

“Such a perfect little cock-sleeve, princess,” Bob growled.

Violet yipped, and then giggled. A moan dripped out of her.

“Wreck me, Daddy! Reshape me! Break me with that big, fat Daddy-dick!”

Violet’s cries of pleasure, baptized in the blissful kind of pain, would have brought the whole house down around them. Fortunately, they were inside the Manta Jet, which itself was a sort of sound-proof compartment. But the subterranean hangar was another level altogether.

When Violet announced her orgasm, it was through a series of contorted screams and moans that were barely coherent.

It occurred to Bob that Violet truly was his and Helen’s daughter, through and through. As if her pussy had stretched unnaturally to accompany Bob’s manhood, and the strength of her young cervix to withstand his pounding, all while being enveloped with pleasure.

As Violet’s orgasm rattled her, whether reflexively or deliberately, her body suddenly flickered invisible. The sensation wasn’t much physical for Bob, but visual, a complete mind-fuck. As if he was humping the air, despite his hands being on her, and his cock clearly still inside.

While coming down from cloud nine, Violet’s moan took on a lower pitch, and she returned to her visible form. Bob extracted his cock from her, and it glistened as much as it dripped.

“On your knees, my little fuck-toy,” Bob said.

“Yes, Daddy, oh my god, yes, please,” she whimpered.

Violet tore her already ripped bodysuit away from her chest, as she knelt. Bob gasped and reached down, tugging on his daughter’s plump little tits. Violet gasped, moaned, and rubbed her drenched pussy as she stuck her tongue out and drooled.

The sight made Bob even more aroused. He slapped his cock onto Violet’s face, and she went cross-eyed as she moaned beneath him.

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck, I’ve wanted this thing on my little whore face for so long.”

“You ready to wear my nut, princess fuck-meat?”

She whimpered wordlessly.

Bob slapped her dripping tongue repeatedly, until Violet flinched. Then she shuddered, as she pinched her own clit and triggered a second orgasm.

“You’re mine, baby girl. You hear Daddy? You behave, and I might just rape you every night.”

Violet whimpered weakly. “Pwease, Daddy. Yes, god.”

Bob grabbed his daughter’s head and tried to cram his thick meat into her mouth. Unlike Helen, she didn’t literally stretch, at least not enough. But the effort, and the struggle, and Violet’s commitment to trying to be a good enough fuck-hole for her Daddy’s cock, was sufficient for him. With only the head of his dick inside Violet’s mouth, he pumped the biggest load of his life right down her throat.

“Good girl, there you go, take Daddy’s fucking nut, princess,” Bob moaned, holding her head. Violet’s hands gripped his thighs and her purple irises rolled up beneath a furrowed brow. Thick, hot cum dumped down her gullet and her pelvis rocked forward, juices pulsing out of her pussy.

The Manta Jet would never be the same.

Bob’s eyes rolled as he emptied his superhuman balls into his daughter’s throat. He couldn’t be more proud of her, although it wouldn’t be well after the fact that their gazes connected to elicit a mutual satisfaction bound by an unconditional love.

And a savage lust kept secret between them.

Chapter Text

Dash returned, clean but still shirtless, albeit in a new pair of boxers. Part of his brain had convinced itself that he would, in fact, sit down and have a polite chat with his mom…about God knows what, though. But another side of him longed to express his love on a grander scale, even an adult one.

He wasn’t sure how naïve or oblivious Helen was, if at all, regarding Bob and Violet’s own sketchy relationship. Whether it extended beyond a close familial bond, and into taboo territory, or Dash was just projecting, and imagining things, he wasn’t certain.

But Bob’s recent emotional detachment from Helen was undeniable. A romantic disinterest, if nothing else.

Helen had donned a snug, possibly one-size-too-small red tank top and a black thong by the time Dash reentered his parents’ bedroom. She was currently struggling to pull up a pair of skintight jeans, the denim waistband fighting to conquer her plump ass cheeks and broad hips.

Dash sighed and zipped toward her to help.

“Hold still, Mommy. I might not be as strong as Dad, but I can still help.”

Helen sighed, glimpsing him in the mirror.

“You proved that last night, sweetie. It’s okay, though. I’ve got it.”

He stepped back, and watched her struggle some more. But watching how her huge tits jiggled in the snug red top, pale fat spilling around the straps and out the sides, drove him nuts.

“If you don’t want my help,” he said, almost growling the words. “Then maybe I should provide the opposite.”

Dash grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms back, and leapt out of his boxers. He buried his erection into her ass crack, and began fucking her gathered butt cheeks while binding her arms behind her. Helen gasped, and she glanced back at her son.

“Sweetie! What are you…no, baby. You do help me. You help me be a better Mommy.”

“Then let me help you now, mother.” He looked down at her jiggling tits, and how her nipples grew erect through the red fabric. “You’ve stayed true to yourself, trying to squeeze this big, beautiful, perfect ass into such tight jeans—without shrinking an inch! So don’t you dare think thin around me, Mommy! You’re perfect as you are.”

Helen blushed, smiled, and began to drool as her inhibitions abandoned her.

Then, Dash acted.

Utilizing his superhuman speed, he did a slew of things over the next three seconds: he visited the bedroom window, confirming that the backyard hangar was still sealed shut over the Manta Jet, and thus the others; he returned to Helen, yanked her jeans down, then her thong, and slung her onto the bed.

Seconds four through nine, Dash avidly slurped at his mother’s exposed asshole while fingering her slick pussy an amount of actions equivalent to five minutes of what an experienced man could do. Helen was suddenly in a mess of pleasure, and all without manipulating her own body’s form to pleasure her partner.

Dash sprang up and buried his cock inside Helen’s pussy, pounding away in the same manner he had dry-humped her last night when she was stuck. Only now he was inside her, and although relatively small, his cock wasn’t tiny, and every other trait contributed to one hell of an experience for Helen. The speed, the enthusiasm, the delivery, and the consistency.

“Oh, god, sweetie, you’re rearranging Mommy,” she moaned. Not in the traditional sense, but her sensations. They were all over the place.

She came, unexpectedly, while her son was still ravishing her pussy. She squealed the words “my baby boy” as she shuddered and climaxed on Dash’s incessantly moving cock. The slapping of her cheeks against his thighs produced its own breed of music, a backsplash to her moans and the wet noises between her thighs.

Suddenly Dash’s cock relocated to her asshole. Slowly, for once, he entered her, and his thrusts were very gentle, and reasonably human, in speed.

At first.

Dash went from gripping his mom’s waist to juggling her swaying, sweaty, incompetently clothed, heavy tits as he accelerated inside her ass. Helen’s eyes fluttered and a thin layer of mascara ran in tandem with the kind of tears produced from a euphoric pandemonium.

“My beloved son, harder, sweetie, you’re the perfect fit for Mommy, but harder, I need you to—”

“How’s this, you beautiful cow?” Dash leered, latching his hands around Helen’s throat and assaulting her ass with a speed of thrusts that not even ten Bob Parr’s could achieve.

Helen’s eyes rolled and an anal-induced orgasm intoxicated her system. Parts of her body that weren’t her asshole, pussy, breasts, or throat suddenly shrank, swelled, elongated, or drooped, in waves of a few seconds. She returned to her natural form for the final crash of the unprecedented climax, a split-second before Dash moaned a distinct sound. Then Helen’s neck elongated without shrinking, tilting upside-down to look her son in the eyes.

Dash smiled as his orgasm encroached. Instead of being weirded out by his mom’s unnatural litheness, he embraced it. He kissed her avidly, and then felt his balls tighten. A shockingly immense jet of cum blasted the inside of Helen’s ass, imbuing a moan right into Dash’s mouth.

Their kiss was more passionate than anything she and Bob had shared in years. And whatever this exchange of sex could be called, was twice the experience of all her interactions with Bob since Dash was born.

In that moment, she didn’t care if her suspicions about Bob and Violet were true. Part of her, as a loving mother, hoped that Bob was demolishing that brat’s tight little pussy, and granting her an orgasm she would’ve otherwise never experienced.

“Next time, sweetheart,” Helen smiled, her neck returning to normal, and her giant ass grinding against Dash’s body. “Pump a baby into Mommy.”