Final Fantasy VII: Pervert Children

BY : SlutWriter
Category: Final Fantasy VII > General
Dragon prints: 34839
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or the Final Fantasy IP. I make no money off of this.

"No, he's not in. But if you leave a message, I'm sure your package can be...hello?"



Dead line.



Tifa sighed with exasperation as she put down the phone, blowing a wisp of raven hair from her face before straightening it with her hand. Another missed opportunity for the Strife Delivery Service. Cloud had grown even more aloof than usual in the last couple of days, and this latest unexplained absence was costing a lot of money. She'd had to turn down at least ten customers, and making the deliveries herself wasn't an option- not with Denzel and Marlene to tend to.



Of course, Strife Delivery Service wasn't exactly a great gil-maker, even when Cloud was there. It was basically something for him to do in the wake of the planet's crisis, when rebuilding was more important than slicing things up with a giant sword. "Maybe it's the name," Marlene had suggested, after overhearing Tifa and Cloud talking about the lukewarm success of the business. "You should call it Lockhart Delivery Service. 'Lock' and 'heart' are words that sound really safe. 'Strife' sounds dangerous!"



Tifa had privately thought this was a fine idea. More importantly, it illustrated the one major problem looming in her relationship with Cloud. She was comfortable after things had calmed down a little. But Cloud had only seemed more restless, as if he was waiting for the next challenge to knock down. Sometimes, she thought he took dangerous delivery routes on purpose, *hoping* to run into monsters. In any case, Cloud's long-awaited new challenge had arrived in the form of the Geostigma. That meant more time away from 7th Heaven for the great, spikey-haired hero, leaving Tifa the responsibility of running two businesses and taking care of two children.



With Cloud's absence on her mind, she stepped into 7th Heaven's bathroom and stood before the large mirror that was hung over the sink. The workday was coming to an end and that meant it was time for her to get ready to tend bar, serving booze to thirsty Edge construction workers, vagrants, travelers and anyone else who happened to roll in the door. She knew from experience that she'd make more tips wearing her suspenders and miniskirt than if she kept her best assets zipped up behind a leather vest. She pulled the zipper of the vest smoothly down, and then winced as she slipped it over her arms. There had been pain in her chest.



Tifa ran a hand experimentally over the front of her white undershirt, tracing the impressive heft of her large and perfect breasts. Ouch! There it was again. Her cute face twisted slightly into a mask of disappointment and worry. Her nipples seemed swollen, their raised forms easily visible through her shirt. Tifa ran a thumb around one of them experimentally, and then gasped with pain, sucking air in past her perfect teeth.



Geostigma? Have I got it, too?



She grasped her undershirt with both hands and pulled it up over her head, allowing her heavy breasts to fall free against her chest. They were astounding in their perfection, and seemed at first glance to have remained so- there were no signs of the telltale Geostigma bruising. Still, something wasn't right. That searing pain she had felt-



Wait, are they larger?



Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. They *were* larger. Swollen, almost. The nipples were puffier, the pink areaolas raised. Gingerly, she stepped out of her leather apron and boots, and stood before the mirror, naked. Her legs were impossibly long, her thighs and ass carrying the tight form of a lifetime martial artist. Her waist was trim, her black pubic hair arranged into a small and unobtrusive patch. Her pale and flawless body, more doll than human, was all that looked back at her as she examined herself. No signs of bruising anywhere. 



The cute way her mouth curled up at one side as she carefully examined her own body is perhaps better imagined than described.



With trepidation, Tifa rubbed a thumb softly over her nipple again, and doubled over with pain, palms gripping the porcelain of the sink. The pain was growing worse. It was the soft patter of liquid into the basin that made her realize the nipple she had tweaked was leaking milk in dime-sized droplets. "Ohhh!" she moaned to herself, dismayed. Suddenly, Tifa felt very vulnerable. Her breasts piled on the edge of the sink as she leaned forward was a lewd sight indeed, as was the jutting of her "bounce a dime off it"-perfect ass.



The bathroom door latch rattled as it slid open a crack. Tifa had just enough time to recognize one pale blue eye as it took in her naked body through a veil of feathery reddish-brown hair. Denzel. He would have been recognizable as the only young boy living at 7th Heaven even without the telltale black blotching of Geostigma on his cheeks and forehead.



"Denzel, no! You don't need to check on me, I'm ok-"



As she moved quickly to cover herself (no easy task considering the size of her bust and the length of her limber torso), Tifa momentarily forget the condition that had been distressing her. Her left arm crossed over both of her breasts while her right darted to cover her crotch, and in doing so she pressed down far too hard on her sensitive nipples. Her warning to Denzel turned into a quivering, knee-buckling groan of pain. Her breasts were on fire, the pressure making them feel fit to burst.



"Tifa!" came Denzel's voice. Despite her warning, he darted into the bathroom, wide-eyed. Tifa's face was stuck in a rictus of pain. She had to let her arms drop to ease the pressure on her chest, giving the young boy a full, eye-level view of her swollen tits. She tried to wave him away, but it was no use.



"What's wrong? I'll help you!" he said, with both excitement and real worry in his young voice.



Through clenched teeth, all Tifa could do was seethe out her words. "Denzel, you...you can't help with this! Call...Cloud!"



The corner of Denzel's mouth twitched, and he took a step back. He seemed unsure, then his face turned to one of stiff-lipped youthful resolve, and he moved forward again. 



Of course, thought Tifa, in the split second she had. He wants to do this himself. He emulates Cloud. Cloud is his hero. Oh god, what is going to happen?



"I know what's wrong," he said, and his small hand reached out and cupped the undersize of her right breast, making it look huge by comparison. The flesh indented as he pressed his thumb inward.



"Aaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!" wailed Tifa, and her knees knocked together. There was a wet, splattering sound as copious droplets of milk slopped to the floor. She clenched her teeth together hard enough to nearly break them off, and then felt a wet heat on her cheek. Tears. But was there something else she felt? A sliver of pleasure buried deep in the pain, buried deep inside of it?



"D-Denzel," she stammered. "Y-you can't-"



The boy cut her off by pointing her toward the mirror above the bathroom sink, where her own image stared back at her. Twin ebony weals were trailing down her cheeks like running mascara. 



Her tears were black. Geostigma.



"You're sick like me," Denzel said. "I can help you feel better. I know what it's like to be sick."



Tifa was too busy contemplating her latest misfortune to figure out what might come next. She had considered herself the indestructible one, untouched by the new disease. It now seemed her case had only picked a slow and painful way to manifest itself, not to mention humiliating. She could not proceed much further in her self-pity before Denzel's young and petite body surged into hers, causing them both to collapse to the ground. Her mouth shot open in a silent cry. All thought stopped. Denzel was on top of her, to one side, in a high straddle on her right thigh. She could feel his weight move nimbly as he crawled on her, his right thigh pressing into her crotch. Tifa shuddered in an astounded paralysis as his wet mouth closed over her nipple.



He's too young!



And so he was- but she was powerless to stop him, stuck in tableau of pain and ecstasy as her immune system struggled with Jenova's rampaging cells. Denzel seemed to pull his head back slightly, and there came a sensation that was beyond anything she had ever felt in her life. A great drawing and emptying sensation as Denzel's hot young mouth sucked at her massive milk-engorged breast, drinking milk from it in hot, gulping sucks.



Tifa had never bothered to imagine a male orgasm, but it occurred in some distant part of her mind that this must be what it felt like, such heat shooting through her milk ducts and erupting, accompanied by an orgasmic pleasure that overwhelmed the pain and pressure. She couldn't speak, couldn't rationally act. All she could do was place her hand in Denzel's soft hair, draw him to her, and cry out in orgasm as milk emptied from her nipple and past his searing, shapely young lips. Her quim spasmed pathetically against his thin and limber thigh as she came harder than Cloud had ever made her.



"Oh...oh...yes..." she gasped. Even from within her ecstasy she could sense the abatement of pressure and pain from her right breast, and Denzel opened his beautiful pale blue eyes and locked them with her brown ones, looking intense and determined.



He thinks he's saving me. Ever since we found him, he's wanted to be Cloud. And now he's taking Cloud's place- doing what Cloud does. 



Had Denzel been watching her and Cloud together? She thought that once or twice she had noticed the bedroom door open a crack. Cloud was always so passive and distant, forcing her to make the first move and secure his interest before he would respond. Denzel idolized Cloud, his rescuer, and wanted to imitate Cloud's affection for her. The boy was tired of being told he was not old enough, not strong enough to help. Where Cloud was passive, Denzel was being forceful for the first time. 



It doesn't matter, thought Tifa. I'd do anything, sacrifice anything, not to feel this pain anymore, to let him draw it out. Even let an underage boy suck on my breasts and drink his fill from them while he lays on top of me and presses his thigh against my pussy and stares into my eyes and makes me cum SO HARD...



She gasped and filled her hands with Denzel's sort hair, moaning in the throes of pleasure as she pressed his head into her bountiful chest, encouraging him to suck harder. His nimble hands plied her right breast into a conical shape, driving her nipple upward into his mouth, the circumference of her large areola too large for him to completely contain. He squeezed and kneaded. She gripped his young head and gathered him. Then came the sinful sucking sounds as she fed him, pumping her milk out into his mouth like an incestuous, shameful mother. And god, it felt so good.



Denzel sucked and gulped urgently, drinking mouthful after mouthful, letting Tifa enjoy the milk drawing sensation. As her orgasm slowed, he lessened his force, removing his pretty underage mouth from her breast, and shifted upward to look her in the face. They were mirrors of each other, showing signs of Geostigma...but the pain in her right breast had abated. "Denzel..." she whispered, her eyes watering. The boy shifted further up her torso, straddling her stomach. Silently, they touched foreheads and looked into each others eyes. He was above her now, his soft hair hanging in her face. She could see a sheen of milk around the corners of his mouth, making his lips stand out. His perfect, boyish lips that were soft like silk...



"Tifa, I love you," Denzel said, and pressed his childish mouth to her adult one. His tongue began to explore her, and her eyes that were at first wide with surprise became resigned and serene.



Of course he does. I'm the only woman in his life, I've protected him, I've rescued him, I've cared for him...and I'm involved with the man he wants to emulate more than anything in the world. How could he not?



She held him close. "I love you too," she whispered in his ear, and their embrace became desperate. She surged her swan-like neck upward and kissed him again, deeply, sucking on his underage tongue. Gradually, their kiss lost tenderness and gained a probing lewdness as they swapped spit like rutting animals. 



Tifa lost herself in this state - nude, her black hair fanned behind her on the tile, making out with a cute underage boy - until a familiar sound came from out in the hall. Her cellphone. 



The ringtone indicated it was Cloud calling.



*************************************************************



From a dusty ridge, Cloud Strife sat astride his motorcycle as he surveyed the ruins of Midgar. It was starting to fall into place - the silver-haired men, their origins and likely goals, the true nature of the Geostigma - but there was still information he needed. And he had been drawn far from 7th Heaven in pursuit of them, all the way to the very precipice of the old city. If the retreat of the silver-haired men had been a feint, an attempt to lure him away, then Tifa, Denzel and Marlene could all be in danger.



He flipped open his phone and dialed 7th Heaven, expecting to hear Tifa's voice. Instead, nobody picked up for twelve or thirteen rings. Cloud grew more and more concerned, his comically bishonen face congesting into a thundercloud with each unanswered hum. The spikey-haired hero was about to put his bike into gear and race home when Tifa finally picked up, sounding flustered.



"Hello?" came the voice on the phone.



Cloud was relieved to hear her. "Tifa. Are you alright?"



"F-Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"



Cloud surveyed the horizon, keeping an open ear for the sounds of any attackers or monsters, while he talked. "You just sound strange."



She seemed to pause. "I'm...nnngh...just busy tending the bar. There are...mmmph...a lot of thirsty boys... I mean, people... tonight..."



Cloud thought that 7th Heaven must have been really busy to have her that flustered. He continued on with his business. "I want you to be very careful. I pursued some silver-haired men to the ruins. They may have doubled back to the city. They're after anyone who was involved with Jenova."



*************************************************************



Back at 7th Heaven, Tifa and Denzel had moved to the greater privacy of the upstairs bedroom. She was reclined on the bed, totally naked. Denzel, who had taken his shirt off to reveal a lithe and impish upper body dotted with occasional Geostigma marks, was nestled against her side, sucking lewdly at the buxon swell of her left breast, drinking large mouthfuls of thick milk from it as she petted his hair.



She was trying to figure out how to respond to Cloud's warning when he moved his left hand and slid a finger into her dripping gash.



"Nnnnnnnnnnnnngh!"  



Then it was two fingers, sliding in and out.



The voice from the phone became inquisitive. "Tifa? What was that noise?"



Oh, nothing...I'm just in our bed being fingerbanged and having my huge tits sucked by an underage kid.



"N-nothing!" she managed, then bit her tongue to avoid saying more. There was a wet squelching noise as Denzel continued to drink her milk and vibrated his hand quickly in her quim, his young fingers agile and relentless.



"Alright. Well just make sure you're ready, if anything should happen."



Denzel's fingers...his young mouth...sucking, fingers thrusting. She was on the edge. All at once he squeezed her breast firmly with one hand, sucked fiercely at her nipple, and jammed a thumb into her clit, rubbing it up and down.



"Ouuuugh....ough...oh god!" Tifa howled, trying to turn the cellphone away from her mouth. Denzel pulled his fingers from her sopping pussy and removed his mouth from her nipple just as she shuddered to a violent orgasm, her knees drawing up. A rope of female lubrication sprayed obscenely from her pussy and shot all the way past the edge of the bed, leaving a line of wetness in its wake.



Cloud's voice on the phone became more urgent. "Tifa? Are you alright?"



"Yes," she said weakly, quivering. "I just...dropped a mug of beer." Denzel nuzzled up to her, their skin burning with hot desire where it touched. She stroked his hair absently. Her explanation seemed to satisfy her conversation partner.



"Alright. Take Denzel and Marlene to a safe place if you need to," Cloud continued. "I have to go talk to Rufus Shinra. Then I'll be home."



He paused. 



"Don't let Denzel do anything dangerous."



As Cloud's words echoed, tinny and without bass, through the phone receiver, Tifa was sucking sluttily on Denzel's agile, underage tongue. She broke their kiss to answer.



"I won't," she replied. "We'll take good care of each other."



"Good," said Cloud. "I'll see you soon." 



Tifa listened in silence until he hung up. She was glad the call was over. It was Denzel who had rescued her this time. He had somehow, by his lustful actions, abated the symptoms of her Geostigma. He'd drawn it out of her. 



Locking eyes with her pre-teen lover, she ran her hot hand down his chest and slid it past the waistband of his shorts, searching for what she knew was there. It was time, she mused, to return the favor.



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