Ancestral Ascension

Aiden Robichaux was a run-of-the-mill good guy. Born and raised in a small town in middle Pennsylvania, he saw little of the world outside his county. He’d just finished his second semester in college, studying History to become a teacher someday. To everyone around him, he was the blue eyed, cute good boy next door. What he, nor the rest of family knew, was that he was not a Roberts.

It was just a run of the mill genetics assignment: to get your DNA tested to extrapolate family genetics. He pricked his finger, waited the week and a half for the results, and when the envelope was opened… With 99.4% accuracy, Aiden was 91% Scottish, and the rest was a splattering of various other ethnicities from the isles. As everyone around him laughed and talked about their family histories, and their parents told them about their great aunts and uncles, Aiden would be discussing his adoption with his parents. 

From what they knew, his mother died in childbirth, and his father had died just after conception. As Mrs. Robichaux had suffered a miscarriage, a quid pro quo with the orderly and a thousand dollar check later, her darling new baby boy was in her arms. Aiden asked what they new about his birth family, and they handed him an envelope, stamped with a family crest in deep crimson wax. The name of the family was the Macbarnard Clan. 

After a lengthy Google deep dive on the Macbarnard Clan, Aiden discovered that the line had teetered off over the years, and that there were no known descendants… until now. Their semi-ruined castle still stood outside of Inverness, Scotland; and funded by the guilt money from his well-to-do adoptive parents, it wasn’t long before he was landing in Edinburgh and boarding his train toward the highlands. Macbarnard Castle was not a particularly popular destination with tour guides, as the house had fallen into  significant disrepair after the passing of the ‘Last’ Macbarnard, Lady Rowena. Thus, upon hopping off the train in Inverness, it was only the word of locals hidden behind the thick brogue that gave him the location of his final destination. There, nestled prominently in a cove by the sea stood the weathered, towering grey stone body of Macbarnard Castle. 

Walking down the old dirt road and across the murky moat, Aiden found himself staring aimlessly at the castle, a place tethered to him so tightly that he could one day find his way home. He pushed past the dead ivy which cascaded over the heavy main door to the castle, and pushed the old wooden doors open. The interior of the castle was bleak, nature had reclaimed what it had once owned; dead grasses and broken vines were it’s only residents. The crashing waves of the sea echoed down it’s corridors, past old discarded furniture and barethread rugs. But there, atop the landing of a grand staircase was the portrait of a man.

Aiden was drawn to the painting, clearly centuries old and half covered in a dust rag. The howling winds and cacophonous waves accompanied his ascent up the stone stairs, growing louder and louder until the noise was unbearable as he reached the landing. The painting loomed over him against the wall, hidden behind the stained cloth that shrouded it, and with one fell swipe of Aiden’s hand, the man’s face was revealed once again for the first time in ages.

He stood there against the rolling hills of the highlands, bare chested and stoic, his handsome chiseled face furrowed as he gazed into the distance. The small, rusted brass plaque read “Fionn MacBarnard, Lord and Chief of Clan MacBarnard, ?-1451.” The painting exuded such an air of dominance, strength, and masculinity as Aiden looked upon his ancient kin. In fact, he was so encompassed in the painting, that he failed to acknowledge the crashing waves and roaring winds that plowed through the castle had ceased; leaving behind an eerie silence to linger, only punctuated by the sudden booming voice that echoed through the abandoned halls.

“Who be the one that enters the MacBarnard keep?” Aiden shuddered, taken aback by the fervor and power of the voice. “Speak now, intruder!” 

“I… I’m Aiden. Aiden Macbarnard…” The sheepish and shaky voice by any other interpretation would betray a sense of nervousness, but the voice which shook the stone walls sat silent for a moment, before booming a roaring laugh.

“Ye are a Macbarnard are ye? Well, why didn’t you just say so, lad?” The painting began to shake, as Aiden retreated down the steps. There before his eyes, two translucent hands protruded from the ancient painting. Pulling with considerable strength, the form of a massive, muscular man pried itself into the open air and floated above the tattered red carpets on the stair landing. Aiden recognized the face of the spirit immediately- it was Fionn Macbarnard. The ghost’s bulky, handsome stature and jovial nature put whatever trepidation Aiden felt at ease. Family is family after all… He floated over to his living relative, slapping him on the back. 

“Well me lad, you’re the first of our clan to come home! Tell me- where stands Clan Macbarnard today?” Aiden bit his lip, knowing all too well that his answer would disappoint.

“I’m the last, I think… There are no more Macbarnards left.” The smiling visage of the specter turned to shock and dismay.

“Scattered to the wind! No, certainly not. A clan of warriors, a clan of strength and honor! We could ne’er fade into the mist!” Aiden’s silence confirmed the worst for the Chief. The clan he’d built, all he’d done in his life and all those that came after had fallen. “Lad, you mustn’t let us down! I beg of ye! We’re all here behind ye, don’t let us vanish into oblivion!” 

“I… I don’t want to let you down, sir. But, I know nothing of our family. I know nothing of our past! I don’t even know where to start.” The ghost smiled, a hint of mischief in his eye. 

“There is one way for me to be yer guide. If you let me in.” Aiden, so caught up in the strange pull this apparition had on him, so bound by a growing sense of loyalty to the ancestors who had brought him to that day… He just nodded absentmindedly. “That’s me boy! Together, we shall rebuild from the shattered ground up the great Clan Macbarnard!” Fionn extended his ghostly arm and Aiden happily shook the rubbery hand, sealing the pact between them. “Then let’s get on with it, shall we!”

Before he could give it a second thought, Fionn grabbed Aiden’s cheeks, shoving his head into his open mouth. Aiden gagged at the strange, rubbery, slimy sensation being thrust down his throat. The force of Fionn’s essence flowing into him tossed Aiden backwards until he landed square on his back. The bluish translucent shoulders and muscled arms compacted in on themselves as the slurped into him, the sound of deflating and inflating rubber rang in his ears. His neck bulging as his ancestor squeezed his larger frame into Aiden’s lean, slender body. Deeper and deeper he flowed, before the whipping tail of his ghostly form was suctioned into Aiden’s mouth with a loud schlorp. Looking down, the young man was met with the sight of a squirming gut, sloshing around as if filled with liquid. Rumbling and squashing, he could feel Fionn slithering around within him. He was filled to the brim, overfilled, in fact. Within him, the familiar bombastic brogue boomed.

“Excellent job, lad! Now, let’s make a clan leader out of you!” Fionn began to extend and align himself within Aiden’s body. He gasped as the Scotsman’s slippery legs began to slip into his own. His skin stretched and contorted against Fionn’s girth, and gushing, rubbery ectoplasm inflated his quads and calves, and with a few cracks and pops, his feet burst out of his shoes easily tripled in size. His meaty toes began to wriggle by themselves, high pitched squeaking emanated from his legs with every subtle movement. The strong, pungent scent of unwashed sweaty feet poured from his new size 17 feet. 

“Aye, there’s that manly musk I missed. That’s the smell of power me lad! Speaking of power…”

More squelching and slithering loudly emanated from his groin, as his cock inflated. Fionn’s cock was slowly pushing into Aiden’s, and it was expanding and stretching to accomodate his girth. A massive, musky, uncut cock breached past the confines of the ripping denim of Aiden’s jeans, standing tall and amast. His slimy ectoplasm flooded the balls, filling them with the strongest seed in the entire Macbarnard clan. Aiden’s ass began to swell, two massive globes now sat perky on his rump. “Aye, lad. Take hold of yer new sword.” Aiden did as instructed, grabbing ahold of his outrageous cock, still squirming with Fionn’s slippery cock within. “There you go. Milk that cock. That’s right.” 

His lower body pumped the cock into Aiden’s grasp, with each thrust allowing Fionn to expand further within. Rippled abs and tight obliques ballooned out of his midsection, two massive pecs inflated with the cacophonous sounds of squelching and stretching accompanying. Two large hands stretched outward from within Aiden’s shoulders, sliding down his slender arms. Fionn’s massive arms stretched Aiden’s skin like the tightest of skintight gloves. The tips of his fingers crawled slowly but surely downward until the creaking of his colossal hands expanding into their new home ceased. 

“Look at ye, power surging through your veins. With me inside, we will reclaim our former glory!” Aiden’s neck began to bulge, filling with the ectoplasmic head of Fionn forcing upward. Gargling the salty, savory slime between deep and sensual moans, Aiden accepted his purpose. He was finally reunited with his one true family in the closest of ways. The slime flowed upward into his mouth, pressure growing as it continued to push into his head. Slime rushed into his tongue, lengthening it and allowing Fionn access to his new voice. From Aiden’s plump lips, the thick and deep highlander brogue melodically seeped. “We are one, me boy.”

The final pressure gave way, and with a deafening pop, Fionn’s head pushed into Aiden’s. His features warped as they became chiseled and masculine. Opening his eyes, two bright green eyes had completely enveloped what once were a deep hazel. Aiden’s mind became fuzzy as it melded with Fionn’s. The modern sensibilities flowed in tandem with the introduction of a heavy new personality rewriting his own. True to his word, the man that was writhing and jacking his cock was the rugged form of the great clan leader, with the mixed minds of them both. A deep roar erupted from within as a geyser of cum shot out of his hefty cock. Gallons of hot, steaming spunk sprayed across the drafty room, puddling around his sweaty body.

“Aye, now that I have missed.” They lifted their arms, and deeply inhaled the ripe funk of their hairy pits. “And this I have missed just as much.” They pulled themselves to their feet, their body still creaking and squeaking from the pressure within. They’d acclimate to their new shared being, and eventually the sounds would subside a little. Smiling, he bellowed another roar, waking the sleeping spirits of the Macbarnard Clan. The faintest sound of bagpipes and pan flutes began to flood the halls of Castle Macbarnard for the first time in ages, and the Lord of the Manor emerged from his stronghold. Surely, there were more lost kin out in the world, waiting to be reunited with their family. And when they arrived, Fionn would be there to greet them, introduce them, and enhance them.