Of course, by this time, her Mom, Maureen, had no illusions about what was going on or the catastrophic effect it would have on their family. In fact, Maureen probably figured out most of it first... she was just misled as to the extent and focus for quite a while. They started pretty slowly, lulled her into thinking it might not be so bad. Sure, she glowered at the objectification of her teenage daughter, but it seemed like objectification came with anything Hollywood, so that seemed normal. She tried to keep her daughter in more modest outfits, while herself indulging her own chance to not dress like a Dowdy by telling herself that she was taking the focus on herself.

And yes, the various challenges made her a little suspicious, and the fact that the rules required parents to apply extensive lotion if the kids were to go out in the backyard or pool area while the windows were open. Watching her husband oil up Shirley was better, at least, then what he might try if she didn't do Tulip herself. Shirley, Maureen thought, at least would know enough to tell if he tried to slip a finger somewhere it shouldn't go from a father to a daughter or any minor and claim 'accident.'

It was the addition of the dog to their little family that Maureen's hope quickly vanished, that her reality check set in, and then it was just a slow means to accept and embrace what was coming. A kid might be fooled, but the first time she was asked to jack that damn dog off and told her it was a daily requirement, well, no adult would believe that as an ordinary requirement in a live-in reality show.

Oh, but they tried. Maureen kept a straight face while they explained that the Hidden Twist to her daughter's dream was that Maureen had to take care of it, that the dog, a rare and valuable Thai Ridgeback mix, was a professional stud and that meant that he had been conditioned to cum every day, and that she had to make sure that he did. "It's nothing worse than what dog breeders do all the time," the voice of Skinner tried to explain to her. Well, let her husband do it, she argued, but no, apparently Rocket would bite males who got too close to his penis, which meant it had to be her, or one of her daughters, to jack the dog off every single day in the house, or it'd be removed.

"Then take the damn dog," she said, even though she knew it would break Tulip's heart. That girl already loved the damn beast... but hearts heal.

Worse than her daughter's disappointment was the real kicker, the leverage they had on her. "If you don't keep it for at least a week it'll count as refusing one of the Dreams, which is grounds for expulsion from the house."

That was when she knew, she'd be jacking off that dog and probably fucking it before long, that she, at least, would be featured in underground video after underground video, sold on the black market, and all she could hope was that it would be just her and not her daughters, and if not that, at least only her and Shirley and not Tulip. That hope faded pretty quickly too.

It wasn't just jacking off the dog, done in a special part of the house, away from everybody else. It was that they wanted to 'save' the apparently valuable canine sperm, and yet didn't give her any tools to carry it from Rocket's red rocket (in the spot where he was temporarily chained as the process started) to the funnel in the wall. "It's valuable stuff," they said. "But we'll make it a challenge. The more you transport, the more you'll earn." Dog cum was runny enough that much of it slipped out between her fingers if she tried to cup it, especially if she tried to wait for all the cum at once, and if she tried to take multiple trips too much got lost. Sure, she wanted the money, but there was a competitive streak in her too, and what's more, she thought by trying her best and complaining about the difficulty would get them to show their hand, which they did when one of the voices suggested, "You could always try carrying it in your mouth."

Well, it wouldn't be the first dog she'd sucked off. That was before she was a Dowdy, of course, and not on camera, which was a big difference, but at this point Maureen was already in at least one stage of 'Fuck it.' Particularly because she'd already tasted some of Rocket's cum and knew definitively where what she was transporting was going, because its distinctive flavor was going to be familiar to anyone who'd tried the Dream House Gruel the family was given by default.

Her whole family had been eating dog cum since they'd been in the house, mixed with oatmeal and other ingredients, but still undeniably there, and how do you have faith that somebody who'd feed that to teen and preteen girls for a laugh wouldn't be doing worse?

In Maureen's case, you don't, you just pretend, try to slow the slide as much as possible, maybe hope for the police to raid the place, or pray these were juvenile-minded perverts who still wanted to stay well on the side of legality. After all, making her jack off a dog was legal, if professional dog breeders did it, and she was pretty sure nobody bothered to make a law about feeding dog cum to children, so there was a chance that's as far as it would go, with her kids, at least.

By the time the Dream Challenge was to share her single bed with another man invited into the house for the night, she knew that she was going to be fucking him, not just from the nature of sharing such a small bed with a man with such a big cock, but she put up a token protest because she thought she should, and was told again that because it was a Dream requested by a member of her family, refusing it would be grounds for expulsion from the house. That was enough to get her to go along, which she wanted to anyway because it had been a while since she'd gotten a good fuck. And it gave her an excuse to tell her husband why she went along with it. Dan Dowdy was dumb enough to use the Dream Token he found to beg for one night alone with his wife without cameras, and he thought it was actually bad luck that the Twist turned out to be "Someone else gets your dream."

As though they hadn't already had this big-dicked visitor waiting. He was the first of many visitors, kept waiting--for their turn to play with the Dowdys--in a second, less fancy house just off the property that Maureen correctly assumed existed. She reasoned that these were all guys responsible for the behind-the-scenes running of the house, providing food, clothes, keeping the power running, and all that, paid for their services at least partly in sexual experiences they'd never get a chance at outside of this captive family, once the family was properly prepped to accept their role. That theory made more sense than them calling a guy in to fuck her because her husband made a bad wish, rolled a bad twist.

The wish might have been genuine, from Dan's heart, which was rather sweet of him, but Maureen didn't believe for a second that the Twists the video wall came up with were random, nor did she believe that the cameras were off, or that she and the hunk they called in would only be sleeping, like she told her husband. It started that way, or looking that way, and she savored the look on her husband's face as this well-built black man took her by the hand and they disappeared into a bedroom that suddenly had a door. Even though he believed--or at least had been told--that this was just showmanship, to make him uncomfortable, the jealousy was obviously real, the knowledge that Maureen could, if she wanted to, cheat on him and nobody would know had to be in his head. So she did, though she let herself be drawn into it, stepping into bed in a short night gown that was one of the most conservative pieces of nightwear left in her wardrobe, turned off the light, and within minutes felt a hard, large cock pushing against her backside, hands pulling her close to him so she couldn't get away, even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to, she just didn't want them to know that.

Pretending to sleep was her compromise, at first, but hard to do when you feel a stranger's cock pushing up against your asshole and you need to readjust so it would go into your pussy instead. A cock that big in her ass would definitely make her cry out, loud enough for Dan to hear, maybe burst in for a rescue, but in her pussy, she could take it with only a whimper of mixed pain, pleasure, shame, and excitement. By the time he was emptying his load inside her, these had graduated to breathy moans as she bucked her hips back towards him with enough force to make the bed shake and had to give her husband pause about whether she was really cheating in there. She was, and she was enjoying it, starting to wish the Dream wasn't just for one night. But one night at least didn't have to mean one fuck, the young stud they'd paired her up with was good for another two, although she had to suck him for a while to get ready and the last one she pretty much just rode his tired dick cowgirl style. At this point she half-hoped Dan heard, hoped he lay there with a broken heart and a hard dick that he was too afraid to masturbate, because he was the one who got them into this and so deserved to suffer a little too.

It wasn't really a big surprise when the next day they wanted her to give permission for her eldest daughter Shirley to get assfucked on camera. They'd pulled out the same bullshit excuses about it being part of a dream, that to turn it down was to quit the game and lose all the money, but she didn't buy them anymore and this time didn't even pretend to. She called their bluff... but only for a moment because she didn't really want to back out anymore, she just wanted to get a sense of what she was getting into. If these were perverts taking advantage of what they saw as gullible parents, that was one thing. Maureen could play that role. Her husband Dan didn't need to have to, because he seemed to totally buy her explanation that the sounds from the previous night were artificial, pumped through the walls and not coming from her one-night-stand that was his dream, twisted.

Her hopes of playing dumb mom and letting just Shirley get a casting couch experience on the way to stardom soon faded. They didn't even try to gently convince her to change her mind when she said "then I'll leave the house" -- and she was totally prepared to fold at the first half-assed attempt to justify it, or perhaps volunteer to do whatever they wanted her daughter for, even fuck a dog since they seemed to be going that way, and she'd already carried dog cum in her mouth to earn a few extra bucks.

Instead though, they just played, on the screen inside the confessional, video of her sucking three cocks to ensure their place in this Twisted Dream House, told her that, if her family left the game at this early stage in the game, they'd have to make do with whatever footage they already had, and the message was pretty clear. Play along, or get exposed. Her face must have scared them into thinking she was willing to take that, because they made the threat even clearer, as Skinner added that they'd be out on their ass with no money and no perks, and that included the ride they had to get here... instead, she and her family would have to make their own way through the long trek back to civilization with only the clothes on their backs, and thanks to the inflation of Dream Buck clothing costs that was back down to skimpy bathing suits and underwear for most of them. It might not be a death threat, but getting home would probably require the same sort of sacrifices staying put would, only with considerably less comfort along the way.

Maureen let herself be convinced, outwardly, but inside she gave up all hope. It didn't even need the threat, the moment they resorted to blackmail was another reality check that this was going to get much worse, because blackmail was absolutely a crime, and where one crime lay, there would be others, and that Tulip was probably their eventual focus, if her own experience was anything to go by.

Before becoming a Dowdy, Maureen Stroker was already well-acquainted with blackmail enough to know the most important lesson about it, that it's easy to blackmail moms... that was what let her brother Richie get away with so much with her before she got married.

Betty Stroker, Maureen's dear mother, got caught cheating with a neighbor by her own teenage son, who then threatened to expose the infidelity unless his mom sucked him off, which gave him one more thing he could blackmail her with... a much bigger deal, in fact, since incest could have sent her to prison instead of just tearing apart the family. Richie knew a good thing when he had one under his power, parlayed that blowjob into sex, and videos of that illegal sex into carte blanche to do whatever he wanted to his little sister Maureen, his real target all along. Mom only put her foot down about things that would leave permanent marks, and insisted that pregnancies be handled.

It took a couple years before Maureen really understood what came over her mom, what Richie held over her, all she knew was that, suddenly, he was in charge of her whenever Mom and Dad left the house or were too busy, and she was instructed to follow every one of his instructions and if she thought there was something that seemed over the line she was to comply and then tell Mom when she got home. If appropriate, Betty said, she would punish him then.

He never got punished. Not when he made her walk around naked for his entertainment, or when he made her suck on his cock when it made him hard, nor the next day when he tied her up, naked, and fingered her until she came while he recorded it, then fucked her tight ass until he came, or even when he came into the bedroom in the middle of the night and raped her virginity away. Each of those she dutifully reported to Mom, and Maureen was told each time that he was acting within his authority as a bigger brother and that she was to apologize for telling on him and promise never to tattle about that particular act again, to anyone. She eventually asked why and was told "Your brother can just sense that you're a dirty little slut and that the best thing to do is control and use that," which rang a little true because she did have an orgasm from the rape, which didn't seem normal.

Her mother didn't either and soon preteen Maureen amended her theory to 'Richie sensed she was a dirty little slut and Mom secretly enjoyed letting him turn his little sister into a sex slave,' and from there to 'being a dirty little slut ran in the family and Richie was just really talented at helping them reach their full potential.' It was only after a few years that she considered that he might have something on Mom, much like he had on her, something that would ruin her reputation if it got out. Maureen might have come to the realization sooner if Mom had acted more like somebody who was only acting out of fear of blackmail, but then, the daughter mostly didn't act like that either, there was something about being a sex slave that she enjoyed. For most of her teen years, at least. A few years after she finally asked Mom, and got the answer, she started to tell herself that maybe she wasn't a dirty slut, or at least hadn't started that way, and from there that maybe being normal was better. That was when she got the idea that if she could blackmail her brother on something she could get him to leave her alone... she still loved her brother, but she needed the chance to reach after that normal life with a nice young man at school, Daniel, who seemed not to believe the rumors about her.

After over fifteen years being a Dowdy, she was starting to reconsider her 'dirty sluts run in the family' theory as being possibly the answer after all, that maybe being a normal wife and mother wasn't her destiny, because Dan had given her a pretty good life but nothing had ever reached the highs of when she'd indulged her slut nature. And, here in the Dream House, she was given a rare opportunity to experience those highs again, to expose her daughters to them, to find out exactly what Mom was feeling as she just let molestations happen... and, if it didn't work out to her satisfaction, claim duress and go back to being a Dowdy. The claim might not even be a lie. For all she knew, these men might kill her and her family if they weren't convinced that the whole family had all been thoroughly corrupted, which was a lot of incentive for Maureen to pretend to join in and help out on every perverted whim. If she enjoyed it along the way, that wasn't her fault. Beyond that, if she participated, became a partner, well, she could direct their impulses in ways that would cause the least harm and might even get a cut of the profits. They had promised her and her family money, and she knew Richie made a lot off just one underage whore and one MILF whore he could rent out to friends, and with an extra one, not to mention making and selling some pretty raunchy illegal porn out of all of them, these men could at least make enough money to pay their talent and keep them quiet.

So, she agreed to let Shirley be fucked by strange men, after negotiating a little. Merely engaging in negotiations seemed to encourage their captors, and she secured two important concessions that seemed to be about the best she was going to get. One, they would no longer be forced to eat the Gruel, but rather have real meals provided to them every day, and two, that half of whatever money was made from whatever Shirley did for them would be added to the family's pot. On two other points she got at least part of what she wanted... her 'nothing that makes her pregnant' demand got a 'for now' agreement with a vague 'unless circumstances change' stipulation and her 'I don't want to take care of Rocket anymore' request got a 'we can make other arrangements' which she knew would probably involve Shirley or Tulip herself, but, well, it was the kids' dog. They should be the one to take care of it.

Watching her youngest do just that a few days later made her realize what a good bargain she'd made, because clearly they had already been breeding Tulip to that prize animal behind her back, dumping that supposedly too-valuable-to-waste cum inside one of her holes... which probably explained why Rocket had been so hard to get off lately. Poor boy was already exhausted fucking his new favorite bitch. Maureen's hand--sometimes mouth when she got frustrated enough--couldn't compare or compete, so why even try?

That decision, not to interfere, not to try, to even help as required, was quite liberating, and soon Maureen began to enjoy her time in the house for the first time... not enjoying the possibility of fame or winning money, or enjoying one particular aspect here or there, but having a good time as a whole and the inconveniences being the exception. Competitions became less of a chore when they started to be mother-daughter games of 'who can get one of today's guests to cum first' or 'who can take the biggest dildo', or sometimes cooperative challenges like "we've covered your daughter with shaving cream, wash as much of it away using only the piss from our volunteers." It was dirty and nasty but Maureen discovered that her years as a Dowdy never did get rid of her enjoyment of dirty, nasty things.

And they did seem to be holding to their side of the bargain, for a while at least... the family got good, nutritious meals, Maureen didn't have to taste dog cum again (unless it was part of a challenge where she sucked it out of one of her daughters), and while both of her little girls were certainly fucked a lot, it always in the ass or mouth, or else with something that couldn't make them pregnant like a dildo, dog cock or, rarely, a cock safety-wrapped in a condom.

When Shirley's pregnancy was floated as a challenge, and the promised dollar signs seemed to be a fair price to change the agreed-upon rules--not to mention that the prospective father was that Jackson fellow her daughter was clearly smitten with--Maureen gave in with a 'why not'. Besides, Shirley had already cashed in a Dream Token, asked for the right not to have another period in the house, and refusing would have meant expulsion, so why not make some extra money off it? Moreover, she also remembered the few days her daughter's last period came on and how unbearable she was. So she calmly jacked off a man while the head of his cock nestled right in her eldest daughter's labia and then had another reality check when he revealed the fake name he was using, got over it quickly, and kept jacking until her creampied in her unprotected and optimally fertile pussy.
Probably not the decision a mother should have made, but Maureen was starting to feel like the best part of the Dream House was the vacation from being motherly, a crushing responsibility she'd born for almost two decades and barely noticed until it was suddenly removed. Although sometimes she felt like she was actually feeling very motherly, just inspired by the casual attitude of her own mother... despite going beyond that into pregnancy which was always a red line for her mother Betty.

Betty Stroker also probably wouldn't have approved of twelve-year-old Tulip marrying a dog, or being officially renamed to Poodle, although the girl's Grandma was the one who used that nickname the most, and sometimes she thought it was because her mother just couldn't be bothered to keep straight her kid's real names. Good news, Mom, that problem is no longer a problem, after the wedding.

Maureen was the one most responsible for her youngest daughter becoming a bitch bride, accidentally, after a casual comment that Tulip seemed to be married to that fucking dog was seized upon and turned into a challenge, and this was after the point where she'd privately already decided to commit to any challenges that didn't lead to permanent damage.

By the time that wedding actually happened--when they had the big ceremony and Maureen swore her own oath to make her daughter honor and obey Rocket, or his owner and master, and to let that master breed her, to later watch Skinner do that breeding personally because obviously the dog couldn't do the job himself no matter how much he liked practicing--they didn't have to hide it from her husband anymore. He was right there at the ceremony, making the same promises. And he'd already watched several different men fuck his wife and daughters, fucked the latter two himself (in the ass, since their pussies were spoken for)... it was the closest they'd been in a long time. Except that he still seemed to talk about how they would all go back to normal when they won the half-million--half-million and more, as though he really thought this was just a reality show that was really, really pushing their boundaries.

In truth, Daniel Dowdy wasn't as oblivious as he pretended. Close, but towards the end, he was just a man clinging to a hope, knowing that it was almost impossible. Like a minimum wage worker buying lottery tickets, fully aware that the odds of them winning was astronomically small, but having to go for it anyway.

In the early stages of the Dream House, Dan bought into the fraud, thoroughly enjoying the game, the competitions, the prospect of winning money, and the relief not having to worry about working for two months--maybe ever if they won. And, though he'd never admit it to anyone else, he was also enjoying seeing his daughters walk around the house in underwear or skimpy swimwear, especially enjoyed the fatherly application of sunscreen. The only uncomfortable part of it was hiding his erection from the cameras, but he usually had loose swimming trunks and he was never a large man. The worst was the erection he developed in the Ultimate Twister challenge, when he'd carelessly chosen something a little tighter and so his at one point only option was to throw the game or keep his crotch pressed to Tulip's ass. He didn't throw the game, and she was too young to realize what that hard lump signified.

But for most everything in those early days, he didn't think there was any nefarious intention behind it. Sure, he guessed that they were deliberately pushing his buttons sometimes... that was the point, trying to get him to quit the game. So he pushed down his jealousy whenever he noticed his wife spending too much time in private areas, tried to remind himself that her taking care of the dog was not an excuse for her to go to a private area and cheat, which was actually true, unless you counted jacking off a dog as cheating.

When she actually began cheating, it was so blatant and in his face he couldn't believe it was actually true. It had to be a joke from the producers, turn his wish (or Dream, as the show called it) for a night alone with his wife into a nightmare, to let the viewers laugh at how uncomfortable he was when the bed started shaking and the moans started. Had to be a joke, he told himself again and again, convincing himself it was recorded off porn, albeit porn that sounded an awful lot like his wife, which was a nice touch... he knew if he was watching at home he'd be laughing his ass off, but it wasn't quite so funny when he was the one made the fool of. All he could do was hope his daughters couldn't hear those noises, and that nobody would know that when he eventually toddled off to the bathroom he jacked off to the sounds. Toilet areas, Dan'd just assumed, were free from cameras... after all, every reality show he'd ever seen had been the case.

The Twisted Dream House wasn't like any other reality show, of course, and by this time everything happening in the little toilet stalls had been recorded, from Dan's masturbation sessions, to his little Tulip pulling on her new nipples piercings, fascinated with both the look of them and how they felt, to Shirley experimentally letting Rocket lick her between the legs while she sat on the toilet. Rocket was mostly Tulip's dog, and at this point his littlest girl had experienced more than a dog's tongue in her pussy several times, but her big sister also had some early curiosity about what things would feel like, tried it out when the dog followed her in while Tulip was taking a nap.

Later the stall's privacy was used for stealthy fucks with some of the visitors to the house, who seemed to enjoy filling Shirley with cock while her father passed by, tried the door, and eventually gave up and went to one of the other bathrooms in the house.

The visitors didn't tip Dan off to the problem either, no matter how frequently they came. That first one that made him feel like a cuckold seemed to open the floodgates for more, which he was not prepared for but tried to roll with. The show was pitched to him as just their family, nobody else, but he understood that if the show was getting boring, it was time to change things up. That the people who showed up were mostly men, and mostly went into the areas that remained forbidden to him but somehow his wife and their visitors were given permission to go, did seem a little odd, but he was starving for conversations with people outside his family and he was at least able to satisfy that urge with a few of their guests while they waited for whatever challenge they were helping with.

One set of visitors Dan recognized as the family who was waiting at the audition place, next in line, though had never been introduced to the Kidd family until now. They were a black family with a teen boy and girl both between the ages of Tulip and Shirley, and of course a mom and dad in their thirties-- maybe forties--who, he was informed, had been invited not for just a couple hours like the usual guests, but instead to participate for several days time as a 'guest family.' In a conversation out by the pool, the dad, Dixon, admitted that they were the backup family and--in the event that the Dowdys were eliminated--the Kidds would get to compete for half the prize.

That put a fire under Dan... he needed to comply in whatever the producers asked, ask no questions, never be difficult. After all, early on Skinner had said they were looking for a family with a teenage boy and a girl, to appeal to more audiences and the Kidd family had that. Jeff seemed like a good guy, but Dan could easily see the producers he answered to finding any pretext to kick the Dowdy family out of the Dream House and install another family they could pay less even if they won.

Naturally when Dixon and his son Traynon both joked about how they were fucking Dan's wife and daughters, he assumed it was a strategy, possibly egged on by those producers... or maybe not. The Kidds had incentive, on their own, to make up outlandish lies to get him to leave, or break the rules. He assumed the Kidds had the same rules he did, knew that physical assault would be grounds for immediate expulsion, and gambled on provoking him into one. So he did his best to keep his cool, joked along with them, forced them to up their game. Which might have been responsible for the next gambit, Dixon getting his own thirteen-year-old daughter Aleesha to twerk on Dan's lap in a thong to inspire him to assault HER. That seemed to be playing pretty dirty, and a questionable parenting decision besides.

What Dan didn't realize was that the Kidd family were carefully chosen out of those who auditioned, but not for the reasons he thought. Many of the families who auditioned were told they were front runners but their family wasn't quite perfect for one reason or another... so a team could evaluate each of them, probe for what they might be willing to do to be famous and exploit that. This family, though they lost out to the Dowdys, got a little extra treatment because those first evaluations revealed the family already had a perverted streak, that just needed to be nurtured by another team for the first few weeks of the house. When invited to 'guest star', they jumped at the chance, not for any particular promise of money (though they were assured they would get a cut of the porn) but just for the opportunity to sexually enslave and dominate a white family, which was a long-standing fantasy of Dixon and his wife Leia, shared with their kids, and from the perspective of the Dream House's production team, considering the history of racial injustice in the country, it seemed only fair that a black family get the chance at that Dream. And what else is a Twisted Dream House for?

So, the Kidds got the opportunity to live out their Dream with the Dowdy girls, with at least one of them always designated on Dan duty, usually Aleesha, because everyone wanted to tempt Dan into doing something he couldn't back down from, and the guest family was promised a bonus if they delivered Dan's corruption while following certain rules.

Even thought he was carefully guided away from the most explicit of the games played with his family, the visit by the Kidds was what lead Dan to ask the question of Skinner, the one that removed all of his illusions about what was going on. Despite their best effort, they didn't actually succeed in their task, not directly. It was only after they were gone that Dan crossed that line... although he didn't know that. He woke up one morning in his lonely single bed to his neglected, overteased prick being gently sucked. Naturally, he assumed it was the dark little teen girl Aleesha, the very one who'd been cockteasing him the past few days, now taking a drastic move by slurping his dick into her mouth like a well-practiced whore. One last ditch attempt to get him to assault her, or to claim he did assault her already, and get the Dowdys kicked out of the house. At least that's what he thought, so he kept his eyes closed and played asleep. Either the cameras would show her getting into his bed and violating the rules herself, or they weren't on and it would be his word against hers that it happened at all, or, there seemed a slim possibility that unasked-for oral sex didn't violate the rules but forcing her off him would. Either way there didn't seem to be any benefit to pushing a willing girl off him, even if she was underage, so why not enjoy the feel of a naked teen girl in his bed?

As consciousness started to become more certain, he started to become aware of a few other details about the girl, like that her frame felt smaller than the girl who twerked on him, a bit less of a developed figure. Those suspicions, once raised, convinced him to move his hand about, under the girl's body where she leaned over him, fingers feeling a chest that was smaller than he expected, and had bits of metal around each of the nipples, little bars like the ones he'd always carefully pretended not to see when they made dents underneath his youngest daughter's tighter fitting swimsuit tops while he was rubbing lotion on her belly. Since she'd started wearing more two-pieces, he's already clearly seen the belly ring as well, didn't exactly approve of, but didn't make a big deal of... certainly didn't seem a big deal compared to the weird shape the elastic fabric made around her nipples and wouldn't question because then he'd have to make a big deal. Now, as his hands probed lower and also grazed that little ring of metal at her belly, it felt like a very big deal, both types of piercings adding up and equalling a lot of evidence for his new guess that the girl sucking his dick was his own little Poodle.

If he wasn't already past the point of no return in ejaculating when he discovered that, or immediately after, he would have opened his eyes and stopped this inappropriate, incestuous blowjob, or so he told himself, but he couldn't deal with another bout of blue balls. Dan also convinced himself that since he couldn't stop cumming it would be better if he kept pretending to only be semi-conscious, to give no sign he knew what his little angel had done to him. Hard not to notice how she swallowed it all without any apparent surprise, though.

By the time he did open his eyes, she was gone from the room, slipped out without a word, and Dan Dowdy hoped it might have even been an erotic dream, or part dream. It would be all right if Aleesha or even her mom Leia had sucked his cock while he was asleep and he just dreamed he felt the flat chest and belly ring, no blame on him there at all.

That comforting delusion lasted him until he found that the family was no longer staying over, they'd lost some unspecified challenge to secure their place for another day, a hopeful sign for his family's chances... until it was revealed that they left the night before, rather than in the morning when he'd experienced the blowjob. That left only two suspects for who might have swallowed his cum, if it was real, and both of them were his daughters. Maureen didn't even seem like an option... even when she was frisky, Dan was certain she had never no interest in that particular act... it was hard enough to get her to do it on his birthday.

Dan was allowed only a little time to appreciate this dilemma, try to convince himself he was imagining the whole thing--including Tulip's wink at him as she guzzled milk at the breakfast table--before the doorbell rang announcing yet another guest from outside. This was not another family but two adults, one of them Dan recognized again, as Randy, the cameraman, who didn't have a camera now, but did have a friend, or maybe brother, as they were both black, although they didn't seem to have much resemblance outside of that. A lot of their recent visitors had been black, which struck Dan as a little odd considering he always saw his city as predominantly white, and if they'd been recruiting from outside it had to be some kind of statement, probably from the corrupt liberal, virtue-signalling Hollywood producers.

Before he could think much more about that, he spotted his wife on the upstairs landing, ready to come down the steps from where her bedroom was, seemingly eager to greet their new guests, and--despite that neither of them could see each other yet--Maureen seemed posed to make a statement too. At least, judging by her outfit, which was just a thin iridescent robe over pair of stockings held up by a garter belt, and nothing else. No underwear, nothing. The robe extended just barely below ass-level, which might have rendered her decent, but when she was viewed from below, like when she began her slow walk down the stairs, it was clear to Dan and anyone else who would look that both her ass and shockingly shaved pussy were completely uncovered. It was the first time he'd seen his wife's pussy since they entered the house, and the sight rocked Dan not just because of the brazenness, but mostly because Maureen had never completely shaved, or at least as long as they'd been married, despite his occasional requests to spice things up... she'd always said it was something only sluts did. Now she wasn't just shaved, she seemed prepared, like a slut, to show it and her bare ass off at a moment's notice. The only thing stopping her from looking like a slut to the entire television audience was her robe, while it was closed over that area. Which it was, but Mrs. Dowdy didn't seem all that vigilant about the robe remaining that way, whether through morning bleariness or deliberate intent. He hoped it was bleariness but she seemed pretty bright-eyed. Bright-eyed, shaved bush, and tits on display in a bustier that lifted and supported and exposed nipples when she lost her attention and the robe flapped open.

Dan ushered the guests into the kitchen and then intercepted his wife on the stairs before the guests saw her like that, whispered, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this? It's the best of the free underwear I have left."

"Well, you should dip into the Dream Bucks bank and ask for something better, we have another set of guests."

"Nonsense!" she said. "I'd rather save that for important stuff, and who knows, we might have a challenge today that'll just ruin it. The robe's fine for now." And she tied it more demurely around herself, as though that should satisfy his objections, but even though nobody should be able to see beneath it when they were on the same floor it didn't seem that demure at all to Dan for her to be walking around like that, able to expose herself at a moment's notice. But his normally reliable, Christian wife didn't seem concerned with his objections as head of household like she used to... instead, she pushed past him down the stairs like he barely mattered, then turned the corner to the kitchen and saw the guests. "Why, Randy, is that you? A pleasure to see you again!"

The two men surrounded her, eyes gazing down at her hungrily, and Randy said, "The pleasure's mine today... at least, it sure looks that way. I told my friend here about you and he's eager to see if the stories were true."

"What stories?" Dan asked.

"Just about your wife's beauty, man." Or maybe it was booty. He did seem to reach behind Maureen, and she lurched like he just made a grab on bare ass. But didn't slap him like a good Dowdy woman should have. Nor did she chastise the other man pulling lightly at one side of the neck of her robe, like he was trying to get a peek at her tits. She just ignored that as Randy continued small talk. "So how are you enjoying your stay in the house?"

"I'll be honest, I didn't like it much at first, but I've been enjoying it a lot more lately." His wife had perked up about the house since she won that challenge that put an end to eating that disgusting Dream Gruel. It was easier for all of them after that, he had to give her credit... but something about that happiness wasn't sitting well with him.

Maybe it was just the response of other people. Back home, Dan considered Maureen Dowdy spectacular at entertaining guests to their home, but now that their home was a television set and most of the guests were sleazy looking men, it felt like someone had put a rock in his stomach. Especially when the men seemed to be taking liberties. Randy in particular still seemed to be taking the liberty of holding her ass cheek, and hoped he wasn't also moving a finger around in between them. His smile did look more like a leer as he said, "I'll bet. You look a lot happier too. You know what, I bet I know what it is, too. They aren't letting you on birth control pills in here, are they?" She shook her head. "I knew it, I can always tell... a woman's at her most beautiful when she's actually fertile."

"That's sweet of you, Randy, and I am very fertile right now, but you shouldn't talk like that while my husband's here." She smiled at him, and then looked in Randy's eyes and said, "So do you gentlemen want a private tour of the house?"

"Love one." And they started off, and Randy still had his hand under her robe when they turned away.

Dan was about to follow, assert his rights as a husband, when Skinner's voice from the ceiling announced, "Dan Dowdy to the confessional. Dan Dowdy to the confessional, immediately." He thought about disobeying, ignoring the call... that wouldn't have meant an immediate expulsion from the house, he'd get a series of warnings first, maybe enough time to set things straight... but a warning would put them back on the Gruel, which would get Maureen pissed at him, and then there was his suspicion that the only way he could stop it whatever those men had in mind would be to commit an assault that would get them all kicked out anyway. They were about halfway to the finish line and a half-million reality show check... he couldn't risk it and have all they'd gone through already to be for nothing. So he hung his head and meekly went to the confessional.

That was where, after a little prompting, Dan confessed some of his doubts about this place and the effects it was having on his family, how it all seemed very unGodly, was told how that was a matter of opinion, then was given a new view of God and invited behind the walls where he got his first big reality check. A series of such checks, actually, delivered in rapid succession. Watching his wife with two men, and his two daughters with two separate species of animals stunned him, his heart sank at how much his family had changed and at the same time his cock rose, meeting somewhere in the middle with a terrible fear that they couldn't go back to being a normal family obeying God, at least not unless Skinner was right about what God really wanted out of them.

His next reality check came the same day where--after watching his little girl take a jet of horse cum in the face--he was escorted to the private movie theater and sat in comfortable seats as more highlights of his family's immoral activities were shown to him, making the point that this was not a one time thing, the corruption had been going for some time, and not all of them were from the house. If it was just scenes of his wife cheating, or Shirley performing as a whore in a porn movie filmed on the House grounds, or even Rocket fucking Poodle, he might have sustained some anger at Skinner for bringing his family low. But there was his wife sucking three cocks to get them there, Shirley masturbating in a backroom model shoot, and lewd nude selfies--pre-nipple piercings and with an older hairstyle--taken in his little Tulip's old bedroom that proved even his youngest daughter didn't need isolation and the threat of losing the game to act like a slut. If they had gotten her a dog when she first started asking, he could picture her going the same way, letting it mount her at home. Could picture it very easily.

As he watched, Skinner sat by his side, inhibiting his urge to masturbate and providing director's commentary on things like his wife's cock-sucking skills (skills he'd never experienced in full, realizing now she'd half-assed the birthday blowjobs) or how Tulip's virgin ass was tighter than any other little girl he'd fucked (which raised a few questions of its own), or how much money the family had earned for him already, even before selling the video rights.

But the biggest reality check was from the clip that captured Tulip sucking Dan's own cock in bed, the night vision camera leaving no doubt about who was fucking who, and even catching some flashes of open eyes from him that proved he was not asleep. He honestly couldn't even remember opening them, thought his slumber act was perfect, but there they were, on screen... not to mention the hand below her body he thought was so stealthy... not from the right angle, it wasn't. Guess he was really good at lying to himself.

So when the string of movie clips ended and the theater's lights came on, Dan Dowdy knew then he was fucked, his family was fucked, but... maybe being fucked wasn't so bad. Maybe his family being fucked was what God wanted after all. "I know you're probably thinking of calling it quits because of this," Skinner said. "But you've gotten through the worst part, and now you can have fun with us. These were meant to be challenges, but we haven't been able to challenge everyone as much as we wanted to, because we feared you might bolt. But you can still walk out of here with a check made out for a half-million dollars, go back to your old life afterwards." That perked up Dan's attention, a thin thread that he could still hold onto. "Not to mention there are a few other big money challenges you might enjoy. We're creating scenes, not just for God to enjoy, but for paying customers as well. Can't live on faith alone, we're a business here... but the people pay for challenges of things they want to see. A man fucking his daughters is a popular request, and I would be happy to write that check if you complete it. We'll make a game of it, for the show, for your family, look reluctant, pushed into it... all showbiz. Or if you can't get off to your daughters, we could bring in that girl Aleesha back in, without her parents and brother, let you fuck her. Or fuck the brother, I don't care. Whatever you're comfortable with, whatever deviant little desires that God put in your heart, I will try to bring to life and let you leave with a check for it to boot. You'd really be doing your family a huge favor. I happen to believe you'd be doing the world one as well. Why... you're practically a saint."

He liked that idea, but Dan wasn't ready to buy into the idea of a God so bored that the most perverted deviants were the real saints. Yet.

But he was willing to play along for the faint hope of a big money paycheck at the end, telling himself that the damage was done, but if they could come out of it with money, they could maybe go back to normal. A part of him didn't believe it was possible, but he'd spent a lifetime having Faith in things that should be impossible, so why not one more?

The rest of their time in the house had an atmosphere a lot more like a whorehouse, with guests appearing at all hours and going straight for the girls. Dan had agreed to go along with things, but at first, still wanted to act like he was in the dark... not completely, but about some of the worst of it. Nudity he had to grow pretty comfortable fast, as Shirley started going topless at the pool didn't get him out of his fatherly duties of rubbing lotion on her, including on her bare breasts... at least not all the time. There were now plenty of volunteers who were happy to lotion her girls up, and sometimes he'd let them, but he got the sense Shirley was having fun making him uncomfortable by having him rub her bare nipples. Tulip certainly was, when she first came to him the same way, only with a white milky liquid all over her chest already, that Dan had to rub in while pretending it was just more lotion and while complimenting her piercings.

Still, witnessing anything undeniably sexual in the works--like when those rubdowns from visitors started to get intense, or Rocket began licking between legs--at first Dan always found an excuse to make himself scarce, so everyone could have fun and nobody had to make awkward lies and he could preserve his deniability. He told Skinner he didn't want to inhibit them, but would watch some of the kinkier stuff in the private backroom rather than participating directly. He did indulge personally from time to time, like when Ultimate Twister returned, only with a new twist--no clothes on anybody. That game wound up with his face in Shirley's shaved pussy and given an additional dare to give his daughter a kiss. That was the way he liked his participation... he wanted to fuck his daughters but more than that he wanted his family to think that he just believed it was part of an intense challenge they had to complete to secure their win. That didn't--couldn't--last... kissing pussy challenges graduated into Daddy-daughter sodomy challenges and it became harder and harder to ignore what the other guests were doing to his daughters, but he slowly adapted.

By just before the last week of their time, he'd reached a point where he could work his way into a group of men watching Rocket hump his youngest daughter (always a popular show), hear her cry out, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming," and then do just what his Dad instincts told him--extend his hand, and say, "Hi, Cumming, I'm Dad."

Dan Dowdy always considered watching his kids roll their eyes at a dad joke to be one of the underrated pleasures of parenthood, but now he saw watching their eyes roll back into their head as pleasure rocked through them was even better. Combining them seemed only natural. And it got a laugh, from the audience, even if his wife was unimpressed. He thought he saw Shirley hiding a smile but she had balls on her face while someone jacked off to the scene so it was hard to tell.

Pretty soon they were no longer hiding anything from anybody... aside from the amused reactions to some of his jokes, of course. Dan thought his best joke--when he walked in on a stranger pissing in his daughter's face, asking what country he was from, because "clearly European"--killed, but Shirley stubbornly pretended she didn't hear. Probably should have saved it for Tulip, teenagers were so hot and cold. He didn't even get a courtesy groan. Nor the courtesy of deniability, anymore... no matter how oblivious he wanted to play it, the best scenes of their family's depravity, past and present, were now being projected on the video walls around the house. Everyone was used to them, they started to seem like treasured family memories, and you sometimes found, between visitors, Dowdy family members lounging on the couch watching video flashbacks, sighing in nostalgic reminiscence at the first time they'd been knotted, or favorite selfies from their phones (they did miss their phones, the kids especially).

After Dan's reality check and beginnings of cooperation, hidden or otherwise, things progressed fast... but it was still a progression, towards greater and greater depravity. For a while it was just about numbers, the Dowdy girls satisfying as many customers as Skinner had lined up, some from the crew being rewarded for their hard work, others big money donors who helped bankroll the whole effort. Even a couple celebrities popped in, and popped off, although they were careful to be masked whenever they were in an area that had cameras. Still, Dan enjoyed meeting them behind the walls, taking advantage of his growing friendship with Jeff Skinner, sworn to secrecy at the time but looked forward to surprising his daughters--once they were out of the house and safely wealthy--with exactly who's balls they drained without them realizing it. A pity none of them would be responsible for the pregnancies, but those weren't really on the agenda, at least as far as he was aware.

That was one of the things that had surprised him... despite his backstage access, Dan wasn't totally in the loop until that last week and so didn't quite realize that Shirley and his wife were already impregnated as part of previous challenges. He'd guessed his wife might have--probably had--already risked it, but didn't think it was intentional, and he assumed that Skinner would take special care to avoid knocking up the kids, considering how hard it would be to hide and how questions would be asked. He assumed that, but Dan never was the smartest man. Nor as moral as he always thought. Before the end, he found himself signing off on Tulip joining the pack, figuring a half-million plus impregnation bonuses would more than pay for discreet abortions, but it took him a while to get there. Either way, when the celebrity guests came, Dan was still mostly watching from backstage, and always watched them using condoms or conspicuously dumping their load somewhere safe.

From his perspective they were escalating, but in truth it was more that they were hiding less and less from him and involving him more and more... quite rapidly, over the course of a few weeks, and yet somehow still so gradually Dan barely noticed how much he was willing to allow and participate in, until just after his epicly timed Dad joke (the 'hi Cumming' one) he found himself agreeing to wedding his little Poodle to a much less cute dog of another breed. And also agreeing when they kept adding details like chaining, the tattoo, the name change, the right of Rocket's owner to impregnate the Poodle by proxy... by that time, it all seemed like good dirty fun, sure to be entertaining if God was watching, which he was starting to hope might be the case. If He was watching, disgusted, and thought they were risking their souls, surely He would have interfered to save the Dowdy family, right? And if He was into it, then praise the Bored God and keep Him entertained.

In fairness, when he agreed to the specific terms of the wedding Dan was pretty high, having started to indulge in a little pot for the first time in his backstage pow-wows with Skinner, which helped knock back some of the guilt that had never completely gone away. He also agreed expecting that he was considered that dog's legal owner, yet another of Skinner's jokes. Get him hyped up for a particular possibility and take it away. But by this time, Dan had learned how to roll with the punches, and if he couldn't personally knock up his little girl after her bestial wedding at least he could walk her down the aisle, give her away, and be the first one of several men (that day) to fuck her butthole to get it loose and ready for a knotting before his wife and eldest daughter guided Rocket's dick into the new blushing barely-pubescent bride. Seemed a little odd for Poodle's new canine husband to only get anal on the wedding day but Skinner wanted the pussy clean for when he asserted his owner's rights later in the party. Father of the Bride duties also included holding Rocket's chain while his daughter's womb was inseminated, in case the dog tried to interfere.

The morning after, Dan woke to another attack of the guilts. He'd drunk a lot... this was one of the few times alcohol was provided in the Dream House, because what was a wedding without a little celebration? And not just a little beer now and then like Dan had spent his Dream Bucks on in the past, but practically an open bar--for the older guests, at least.
Shirley got pretty sloppy too, but she was restricted from the open bar... she always had to convince someone to give her a sip out of theirs, usually by providing a sexual service in exchange. She spent much of the night dressed, or partly dressed, in a cheerleader outfit, a real one, acquired somehow from her actual school with Dream Bucks. Probably counted as a Dream for her, since she never actually got to wear one in their lives before, and that night it seemed to be very popular for convincing guests to give her drinks, especially when she pulled up the skirt and did a routine with the handle of a pom-pom brazenly stuck in her ass. Shirley seemed to have lost her shyness completely, and--if videos ever got out of the night, and somehow their faces weren't included--her drunken behavior in a progressively more cum-stained uniform with her school's name and logo printed prominently on the front was sure to give that school's cheer team a lot of attention they probably weren't counting on when they supplied that uniform. If video got released with faces included, it'd be a whole lot worse for the Dowdys, but none of them wanted to think too hard about that possibility, hoping it wouldn't happen or if it did that they could claim to be forced. Still, Dan and Maureen probably shouldn't have encouraged Shirley's underage drinking--for that matter, both parents probably shouldn't have bought her a glass of sparkling wine in exchange for a little oral service--but she was fifteen, and most teens of that age had at least one big drinking adventure, so why not her little sister's wedding?

As for the bride herself, she was still only twelve... so despite it being her wedding, Poodle only got a little whiskey mixed with cum in a champagne glass to help her out during the tattoo, but after that she was cut off.

Dan, though, he drank quite a bit to make sure he had a good time and banished any second thoughts and worries about consequences, and so opened his eyes the next morning on the floor to the sight of Dixon Kidd balls deep in his daughter Aleesha on a nearby couch. The Kidd family were guests at the wedding, at Poodle's request. Apparently during their slave day Poodle bonded with Aleesha and Traynon quite a bit... or she just wanted friends around for her big day and those were the closest people the producers could allow. Either way, waking up to that tight black teen riding her father, cowgirl style, watching the man's balls flex, ready to pump a load in his daughter's pussy reminded Dan of what he'd missed out on. Not Aleesha--he might have actually fucked her too last night. The memory was a bit hazy, it might have been her mother Leia, but Aleesha was also a teen who had to earn her drinks, and he definitely had a memory of sucking on some black titty while he nutted. Either way, little Aleesha yelling out "Daddy" while riding Dixon that made him think of his own daughter, feel another stabbing pang of disappointment that he didn't get to knock Poodle up, and pushed himself to his feet and try and find her, to at least do his Daddy duty and make sure she wasn't traumatized.

He heard her before he found her, calling out, "Ow, ow... Rocket..." and then the damn dog lurched into view, his daughter close behind. But then she had to be, the rings in her nipples (which had replaced the earlier bars) were now physically attached to a dog leash, and so when Rocket pulled, it yanked and hurt... although it ran through her belly button ring to limit the risk of yanking too hard. At least that was what Jackson said.
His baby girl was topless, making this contraption very visible, although she'd put on that special skirt she liked so much. The two were headed for the backyard area--Rocket leading, his daughter yanked along--or at least headed for the glass door, which Tulip had to open. Then they rushed to the door, where Rocket lifted a leg. Well, at least he's housebroken, Dan thought.

He followed them out. "Are you okay, Tulip?"

"It's Poodle now," she reminded him. "Remember?" Right, she had agreed to take that name forever. He suppressed a pang of loss at the name he'd given her, but it was a little too late to worry about Tulip being deflowered. "But I'm okay Daddy, just tired. I didn't get much sleep last night." And she looked it, with out of control bedhead taking her hair in every direction and dried cum still sticking to her belly. His daughter watched her new husband finish peeing and said "I think I'm going to have to put a food and water bowl by my bed now. Married life, you know?" Now Rocket was nipping at the chain again, pulling down, causing a cry of surprise as she tried to take a few steps. "Okay, okay... just not in your pee," and got down on all fours, flipped her skirt back over her back to expose her bare ass and the new tattoo (which was healing remarkably well, no redness at all... like it had been in place for years, possibly a miracle). Rocket's sniffing swiftly lead to licking, but only for a few seconds. This was a dog who seemed to think that his bitch was already well-claimed, and just got right into position to hump, eyes on Dan the whole time like daring him to say something. "I think the poor boy got jealous at the wedding yesterday."

Didn't seem like it, seemed pretty chill and uninterested the whole wedding except when it was actually his time to fuck, but Tulip--Poodle--was closer to the dog. Very close, as the beast mounted her and awkwardly tried to insert his doggy dick, the chain rattling against itself.
Dan didn't want to watch that again. At least not in front of her. It was different in a crowd, or behind a screen, but he still wasn't ready to just watch his daughter fuck a dog by himself. That seemed weird. So he turned away.

"Wait, Daddy..." she called. He looked back, saw her guiding the dog towards the hole, while looking up at him with wide, worried eyes. "Are we going to be able to show our faces in town again?" For she'd just had her own reality check provided by her sister, that none of this was normal reality show stuff.

What else could a father do but promise his daughter the world? Even if he wasn't sure it was true. "Of course we are, sweetie," he said. "And we've come this far, we're a lock to win. When you've got a half million dollars, you can show your face anywhere."

His daughter's relieved smile only made him feel guiltier, so he screwed up his courage, went into the confessional, used the door into the backstage area and searched until he found Mr. Skinner in his little private movie theater, smoking up and watching a multi-screen of scenes around the house. "Jeff..." he started, for he was on a first name basis with the man now. "I don't feel good about how you manipulated us into some of these things." A rather weak opening, but he had never intended to yell at the man who held their future in his hands, just to try and get him to ease up. "All these challenges, they're pushing us places we wouldn't want to go." And there was still a week to go.

"Thank you!" Skinner said, with surprising force. "That's what I've been feeling all along. The show's overproduced. I mean, sure, it gets the job done, but it wasn't really what I wanted. But that's what you get when you collaborate. Funding a place like this doesn't come easy, I had to get Jackson and his mirror in on the deal, which meant giving into his demands but..." The man sighed. "He's such a prima donna sometimes. And the art is what suffers for it."

Dan found himself sitting down beside Skinner, taking an offered toke, trying to think of what to say next, but Skinner kept talking, like he'd often did when high. "I didn't even need the mirror. I mean, it's helpful, makes some of the changes we make take a lot quicker, and don't get me wrong, I love God's miracles, but there's something overly manipulative about the way Jackson wants to do things, doesn't sit well with me. You know where I got the idea for this place? A while back I read this story on the Internet, 'Autotrained.' Ever heard of it?" Dan shook his head. "Basically a little girl gets kidnapped, put in a room with various phallic machines that she has to figure out how to get food and water from, basically in the process training herself to please cocks with her mouth. Then months later she's released into the world, only now that she's been trained--without ever seeing another person, mind you--she doesn't even want to refuse any cock in her mouth, either for a blowjob or to serve as a urinal. Hot as fuck story. Probably solely responsible for my little-girls-drinking-pee fetish too. And there's something so pure about it. Just a girl in a room designed to shape her into something wonderful. She often has to figure out for herself exactly what's expected of her and perform without being asked, so the training feels more natural to her, like she's really doing it all herself, no magic, no tricks, no scripted manipulations. Sure, there's a kidnapper behind the scenes, and a few instructions, but the girl's still responsible for her own fate, and she's happy at the end with what she's become. Reading that story made me want to build one of those facilities in reality... several, around the country, let people pay to watch the process unfold. Kept trying to pitch the idea to people, got some good feedback on it, suggestions of ways to structure rooms devoted for different types of kink training. A couple of times I thought I might get a bite to actually go to pilot, but people get skittish about being involved in a kidnapping, even for a good cause, so... it never worked out. And then one day I had this inspiration... 'Wouldn't it be cool with a whole family? If they actually signed themselves up for it?' You know, just put them in a house, and my idea was that we wouldn't do anything ourselves... or not much, anyway, just provide opportunity, reward, and punishment--like a Skinner Box--and let the people watch as isolation and desire causes the family to train themselves to greater and greater perversion, all with their own choices, you know? Perfect reality show concept. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't, that's part of the excitement. Give it a real horse race quality. Got some investors right away, but with funding comes other people's expectations, and in satisfying everyone else's dreams, I feel like I lost my own. I wanted it to be more like the Wall of Dicks... you have no idea how happy it made me to see Tulip start sucking on them with no prompting. Imagine the whole show like that? Your daughters fucking you just because they get bored and think it might be entertaining to get knocked up by Daddy? Biblical, like Lot." He took a toke, look back to the screen. "But the money people just had no faith in the process, and didn't want to risk you not doing anything fun that an audience would want to stick around for. We had to push you almost every step of the way, suggested half the dirty ideas ourselves. I mean, sure, this whole thing's been a success, but...it's not quite my vision, you know? I suppose it could be worse, though, a few of them were advocating for a crass, lowest-common-denominator 'rape them till they like it' approach, like has been done to death. You'd be included in that strategy, buddy, so you can thank my artistic integrity for your ass integrity." Another sigh. "Maybe if we do a Season Two I'll have more sway, get to really do it like I envisioned... fuck, maybe I'll even have enough to spin off my own production company and put up Autotraining Centers, too. Not as big a production, but we always need kinky little girls out there keeping God entertained, and I think the audience will follow me to those smaller shows, too."

"Wait, so this... is actually a real show? With an audience and everything?" Dan assumed videos of the more exciting scenes would be sold in far off, foreign markets, but had come to believe the notion of an actual reality show people watched as a whole was just a convenient fiction.

The man seemed offended. "Of course it's a real show," Jeff promised. "I mean, sure, it's not going to air anywhere you'd have ever encountered it, back in your old life, not unless you lurked around some particularly unsavory parts of the Internet, or had some wealthy friends who thought you'd get a kick out of it. But we do have an audience of paying subscribers already and we are expecting to make a killing off the videos of this from perverts all around the world. The rarer the taste, the more they'll pay, and this kind of family degradation story... that pays a lot."

"So the big prize...?"

"Is still very much in the cards. More than that, at this point, I don't see much else we could do to get you to quit, honestly, at least not without trying dark shit I have no interest in without your consent. With your consent, maybe, but right now you're not like some innocent girl I could kidnap and force into a particular role, I genuinely care about you guys, want you to be happy. So, congratulations, the Dowdy family has won. Unofficially. Officially, we've still got a week to go, but it's all just fun, now. Stick with it, get off however you want, and I promise you, you will walk out of this house with a stack of checks so outrageous the bank won't know how to react," he said again, and it was only much later that Dan remembered he'd always promised checks, but not that they'd be cashable or what they'd say on them. "And, I'll turn over ownership of Rocket to you, to boot. And all that implies." He grinned as though he could see the deviant desires deep down in Dan's heart. "Course, by then I hope Poodle will be pregnant with my baby, but you can do the next one. And the next time we trade Dad jokes, we won't have to compete... the winner will be apparent."

With everything he'd already done, Dan didn't see much point in quitting now, and with this reassurance that things weren't going to get that much worse, and that victory was all but certain, it gave him the boost he needed to ride out the rest with a smile on his face.

Eventually, the final day came, and the final challenge, which was an anticlimax, although Dan did climax over his daughters faces. The terms of the challenge required all of them, Dan included, to get naked and squat on dildos in the backyard, each attached to a bicycle pump type device, only not allowed to use their hands, only bounce up and down with it inside one of their holes while they tried to blow up a balloon and make it pop before their time in the house was over. The Dowdy family agreed that Dan would get the smallest dildo, because without having had practice the others would have killed him, but the rules said the challenge ended if any of them came, and Dan, although game for a challenge, underestimated how his first dildo in his ass would affect him, especially watching his daughters riding on huge rubber cocks right in front of him (his wife was also there, but out of his eyeline when he watched what his daughters were taking, and a man's got to choose his priorities).

So, that last challenge, Dan failed more than anyone else, costing them a free trip to California on a private plane, at least if whoever ran the Twisted Dream House could be taken at their word and if the challenge wasn't--like their very first--meant to be failed. Everyone was disappointed, but not too much... because this exciting trip was just the cherry on top. When the buzzer sounded, they were officially told that they had won the big prize and everybody cheered, their recent loss seeming insignificant by comparison. Similarly, their discovery that all of their clothes--not just the ones they took for the challenge but all of them in the house--were gone, would have to wait, as the voice-in-the-sky... Jeff Skinner's voice, read a prewritten spiel about how every dream you have to wake up, and some of what they dreamed would fade away, while others would stay with them forever, and the lights dimmed.

And then Skinner spoke more casually, "Listen, the car's coming back to take you all home, and I'm just filling out that last big check right now, but I just wanted to take this opportunity to give you my personal thanks for making this experiment such a success. And I know I promised you that you'd get to keep the dog, but... I just like having a pet too much."

Dan tensed for a sudden reversal, but relaxed when he heard Skinner instead say, "So, I'm going to make you an offer. Dan, give me back Rocket, and you can come work for me, a production assistant for season two. We can find roles for the whole family, take real care of them. That California trip can still happen. Why not make it permanent? Screw going home. I see a lot of potential in you all... if you're willing to take things for the next level. But I won't lie to you, the next level is a bit more intense. We're talking major life changes. Probably at the very least breast implants for your wife and daughter, more piercings, tattoos, lip injections... maybe we'll even auction off the right to remake them in whatever image the highest bidder desires... or, hell, even own them outright if they're game. At a minimum I can ensure they get an ongoing gig as pampered high-class Hollywood whores, doing what--I can tell--they've come to love. Jackson would be happy to pimp for Shirley--actually, I'm not sure we can avoid that, it's in his contract, if she signs up as a whore with us, she's his whore--but I'm sure he'd take on a mother-daughter team who don't mind getting lezzie with each other." A number of challenges had already proved they didn't mind that, as long as they thought they were getting something out of it, and they looked like they didn't mind the idea now.

"As for Poodle, well, I've got something special planned... there's an underground puppygirl training course I know... some intense conditioning, maybe a little cosmetic surgery. It's actually a huge challenge, not a lot of girls are suited for it, most can't take it... but I think Poodle can... she's already taken to life as a dog so well already... why not go to the next step?" The littlest Dowdy had proven she was a competitor, and looked pretty confident that she could take whatever challenge this puppygirl training implied.

"Those are just a few options... I know people who are willing to put a lot of money into having a family like yours, to perform, all as a group or piece by piece, rented out for short or long term jobs, or to just to use, to change however we like... but we've got God on our side, and so we can ensure you enjoy every step of the way. Or, you can walk out and we'll give you a ride back to your own home town. Up to you. No pressure, honestly."

Dan would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Money was great but once he bought a new house and paid back debt it might not last for long... a job he could rely on, that sounded good to him, sounded dignified, even if it was with a man who did not seem to put a premium on dignity. He didn't want to give up Rocket, though... not because he liked the dog, but his kids would be heartbroken, and besides, ownership represented an opportunity he imagined most fathers secretly wanted, but few ever got. No, not the ability to fuck his own youngest daughter, either. Sure, he saw himself taking advantage of that right--just so little Poodle didn't forget what human sex felt like--but in his mind, it was more about the fatherly Dream of the right to restrict her from fucking anybody else. Besides, he had promised his little girl that they could show their faces in town again and he was damned if he was going to break that promise. Considered he might be damned anyway. Still, he tried to be polite as he could in turning Skinner down. "Thank you, but I think it's time we go back to being Dowdys, we've got a life to get back to."

The man seemed to take it well. "I understand. Well, I had to try. I wish your family the best of luck. I'll meet you in the confessional to hand you your checks."

Dan walked into the room naked, met Skinner, who indeed handed over a thick stack of checks, and a slim bundle of clothes. "For your family to change into before you go. The car's waiting for you outside. You and your family have been a lot of fun, Dan, and I hope those checks are worth it." Then, he stepped through the door with a wink and one last thought--maybe a joke, maybe a moment of truth--to stick in Dan's mind. "And you know, I promise a few of them will even clear."

The door locked behind Skinner, so there was no following, Dan just stared for a moment and then returned to his family with the bundle of clothes. That was when the Dowdy family discovered that they may be showing their faces in town again, but they'd be doing it looking like a family of sluts, and when Dan first thumbed through the stack of checks and read what exactly was on them, remembering Skinner's last words and trying to figure out exactly how much of a joke was played on him. Wondered that all the way home, made worse by the note in an envelope from Skinner, an, 'if you change your mind about my offer and want me to take care of your family' message and a disposable burner cell phone with a way to get in contact with him, promised to only be good for 24 hours. Dan thought that might be an admission that Skinner thought--within that one day time frame--Dan would regret not taking the offer. Unless the thing about only some of the checks clearing was a joke.

He still wasn't sure what to think, but worried a lot about what it would mean. Worried more when Poodle saw the phone, just a simple flip with no net access, and moaned about how eager she was to get her hands on her smartphone... because she needed to set up new social media accounts. "My Instagram got banned when Master Jeff streamed my wedding on them." Maureen and Dan exchanged a look, and Dan thought she was thinking the same thing as him, 'Oh fuck.' Because if everyone who followed his daughter's Instagram saw that wedding then they were in big trouble. Even if only a few of them saw before somebody reported it, that could get dicey.

And then Shirley started in, "What did you expect? Anyway, you're probably better off. Jackson let me get into my Instagram, and my DMs were all full of people wanting to set up escort sessions when we got home. Some of them I don't even know! But I already set one up with Paul's dad. Is that weird?" Maureen assured her that of course it wasn't, but he and his wife exchanged another look. This, too, wasn't a good sign, nor was that neither of them had immediately forbidden her from doing it. They weren't sure them forbidding it would do any good, anymore.

It was looking less and less likely that they could slip back into their old lives and just hope nobody had seen the show. Maybe that was the point. Skinner had said God liked a family getting degraded and humiliated, and so why would that stop when the show ended? Why not a life of everyone knowing what he'd done?

He swallowed, retreated into denial one last time, a part of him knowing that it was a luxury he wasn't going to have for too much longer. "But you won't have to," Dan said, forcing a smile on his face. "Because as soon as we hit the bank, we'll have money to do whatever we want." And he stared down at the checks again the smile dying as he read what was written on them, a list of various illegal and immoral acts he and his family had committed. But Skinner had promised, and when that much money was at stake, they might not look.

As they were unceremoniously let out of the car at the edge of their old neighborhood, Dan made sure to grab that burner cell phone, just in case, and the Dowdy family took their long walk to the bank... where Dan still stood, trying to decide whether to get in line, whether one more humiliation was in store.

By this point, the line was starting to get pretty long. Almost might not be worth it to wait, he thought, and then looked back at his family, who were still watching him, bored and impatient, legs spread in the bank chairs like they didn't care who looked between their legs... and back down at the checks, the half-million one on top, those big numbers dancing in his eyes one last time, if only he dared to get in line.

He found his hands taking opposite corners of the stack of checks, and pulling. They didn't tear in two. There were too many of them to do that easily, and instead the stack just bent and folded. But the motion was there, unbidden, as though God Himself took control of his hands, and what surprised Dan more than the motion itself was how good it had felt when he first realized what he was doing. So he did it again, this time only taking the top right corner of the top few checks, including the big money one. That did it, made a satisfying tearing noise that made many in the bank look in his direction. But he was only really aware of his family, expecting to see rage at his impulsive decision but instead, from Maureen and Shirley, it looked like they'd just perked up, like he'd finally done something that surprised and interested them. So he grabbed a few more checks down the stack and tore again, and again, stuffed the fragments back into his pockets (a few fluttered away, but he didn't bother collecting them) and walked down to his wife and daughter. "What do you say we give Mr. Skinner a call and tell him we reconsidered his offer?"

The smile on his daughter's face, and what he thought might be respect on his wife's told him he made the right decision. He just hoped Poodle would forgive him for breaking his promise. Although actually, now that he'd stopped to think, he hadn't really broken it. They HAD shown their faces in town.

As it turned out, she didn't mind either. When they found her outside, she wasn't performing a doggy sex show but she was signing an autograph for a fan in a business suit who spotted the rest of the family in the bank and decided to hunt out his favorite. They shooed the man away, moved to an out of the way alley, and told Poodle they were going to take Skinner's offer, her reaction was a wide-eyed, bright smile and just one question, "So I get to do the puppygirl training?"

"We'll talk," her mother said, and Dan was already dialing, hoping that this wasn't one more joke on them all.

It wasn't. Skinner answered, seemed excited about them calling, which even encouraged Dan to negotiate, a little. "We would like to come back and do some of the stuff you talked about, but we stay together."

"Sure, sure, I can understand that."

"And as for Rocket..."

"Yeah, I understand that might be asking too much. Tell you what, joint custody, you and me, co-owners. They're a couple, after all, so we'll be like in-laws. Only we'll actually get along."

By now Dan was starting to learn not to look a gift horse in the mouth... the view as it came all over a little girl was much better. So he said, "Deal."

Skinner gave them the details of where they could meet up with his private jet, all fueled up and ready to go to California--no messy airport check-in required--and they ended the call, leaving Dan only having forgotten one detail. "We don't actually have money to catch a cab..." he said. "You think you girls can attract a customer?"

No need. Shirley saved the day, pulling out the small wad of bills she'd earned from her first whoring adventures, that she'd snuck from underneath her bed and into her bra when they changed into their final outfits, and thought this was a worthy use for it.

Two hours later, the Dowdy family were in the air, and mostly naked again, enjoying both the in-flight champagne and another orgy, and Dan finally sunk balls deep in his youngest girl's pussy. He could have--wanted to--do this earlier, to kill time during pre-flight, but decided to wait for the plane to take off, because there was one dirty dream the Dowdys didn't do in the Dream House, and that was joining the Mile High Club, and he'd get to give his little Poodle that first if nothing else.

One last little postscript, and our second last reality check, this one about checks themselves. Tearing up a check is an old Hollywood trope, and if the check itself is an offer it may indeed be an irrevocable denial... but if it's a check for money you're owed, for tasks accomplished, you're still owed that money, even if the check is in tatters in your pockets. And Jeff Skinner, when he saw one of those torn checks, realized what Dan had done, told the Dowdys this fact, and made good on the family's work, writing the family another check for the whole amount, this time with no memos. Whether Jeff intended that all along, or just had a soft heart and money to spare, Dan might wonder for the rest of his life, but he was thankful anyway. A little more than six hundred thousand, in total, not enough to change their lives forever, not enough to get them out of the life of sexual exploitation in Hollywood they were set up for, but enough to give the Dowdy family a nice place to live that life, a set of new identities, and even ship their precious family memories out of storage and to California, where they continue to be together and serve God--in their own way--to this day.

Lest you think this story's ending is too happy, I give you one final reality check... a few of their favorite knickknacks did get smashed during shipping. Tragic, but what can you do?

The End

“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom

what an amazing ride

Glad to have you back in action, I love your work man. I check your page for an update every couple of months or so.

I like the mirror stats you included at the end of your newest story. I've always thought the best explanation for these Phil Phantom style stories would be that there would be something like an incubus with the power to subtly corrupt people around him to do stuff they wouldn't normally do.

I saw in your site’s news section that you were working on the next installment of the Hitch series. Do you have an ending planned for that one?

>>27346
Thanks
>>27347
Mostly when I've been writing them I just sort of assumed they existed in a more perverted universe in general. However lately I've started tying some of them in with the Bored God idea (which sometimes launches worlds into more perverted universes), either as a result of a wish gone wrong or use of an artifact. In Sandra's Sitting Service there's also the 'Suggestion Box' hinted at, which is another BG trope.

>>27378
I have a rough idea how the series ends, yeah, it's just getting there that's the problem. And in general, writing a lot of thing as I get hit with depressive periods a lot. Which is partly why I switched to editing and posting what I'm about to, because I just can't really work up the enthusiasm to actually write, but editing is another matter.

I'm going to start posting my other danging Phil Phantom one since I'm not really in a writing mood at the moment, so at least something can get out. This one I classify as a Phil Phantom Tribute Story, but it's also probably the slowest of them I've written. I mean it literally takes place over 10 years and there's probably less underage debauchery than Reality Checks which took place over 3 months.

Countdown - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (MF, Mg, Fg, cheat, grooming, preg, inc, oral, cum eating, slow)

Advance warning can be a funny thing. I had nearly a decade to get used to the idea that a much older man would be fucking my baby girl, but somehow it never quite prepared me for how it would actually be.

It started when Alice was nearly three. Nothing sexual started then, mind you--even he's not that perverted--but it was when he dropped the bombshell. We were sitting in the backyard, at the tail end of a barbecue we held for a few friends. Charlie, who was our neighbor at the time, invited himself. I hadn’t liked him, not since he moved in and he said, “Nice tits,” before “Hello.” Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the compliment, but the delivery offended me. His crudity that first meeting amused my husband, and so he never made an effort to be any less crude around me. Quite the opposite, often he'd say worse, like he was trying to piss me off.

Still, that day, he was sitting on a lawn chair beside me, and we were coexisting peacefully. The beers in our hands probably helped that. I had my little angel in my sights, of course, but had calmed down. All afternoon Alice was wandering around, practically a bundle of energy, running all over the yard, thankfully not screaming much, and I was just about tapped out from having to chase an overstimulated toddler all day. So now, I sat, and every so often, I would yell out an instruction to stay away from a certain area, but as long as she wasn't in any immediate danger, I needed some relaxation time. Pick your battles, as they say, especially if you don't have help. That's what grandparents are for, but I wasn't as lucky as others to have them on-hand at all times... both sets of our parents lived far enough away that inviting them for a casual party was more trouble than it was worth. And they would have cramped our style among friends.

I may have had a moment's rest, but that wasn't really the same as joining the party. Phil, my husband, was somewhere inside, playing pool with Suzanne, while her husband Bob snoozed off by the picnic table, and our other guests had left already, so it was basically just the Charlie and I, if I wanted adult conversation. Which meant mostly we didn't talk.

Finally, Charlie did speak up, stood up at the same time. “Well, I should be going.”

“Goodbye,” I said simply. I didn’t like him, but my husband did, so I still tried to be polite for his sake.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

There was no invitation, not from me, in fact there was a request to my husband not to invite him, but that didn’t stop him from showing up. “Goodbye,” I said again.

Just then, my angel ran past, and Charlie bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and stood again. “And it was nice seeing you again, too, cutey.” Back her hair was a short mousy brown and if she wasn't in a girl's sun dress you might mistake her for a boy... but Charlie certainly hadn't, even if he didn't let on.

I stood my weary bones up then, almost by instinct... sensing that he was some kind of danger, even if I never consciously thought about what. I simply pulled my giggling child away from him and held her against me. “Come here baby.”

I guess I hurt Charlie’s feelings, yanking her away like that. “No need to be rude,” he said. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I’d never hurt Alice.” Then he spoke the words that would change my life, and turn the next decade into a slow countdown. “After all, ten years from now, she’ll be the mother of my children.”

Alice was two, so in ten years she’d be twelve. There was no missing that... in my eyes, the guy basically just admitted to being a pedophile, right in front of me.

I stood there, open-mouthed, as--like what he said was nothing unusual--he stepped into the house for a moment to say goodbye to my husband, and then left. I was still standing there a minute later.

Of course I told my husband about it, but only after stewing about it for the evening. Finally, before bed, he asked me again what was wrong, and I felt up to telling him. "You know what that son-of-a-bitch did?"

"Which son of which bitch? I know a lot of bitches with sons, you're going to have to narrow it down." Ha-fucking-ha.

"Charlie," I said. Really, I spat the name like it was a bad taste. "That son-of-a-bitch."

"What, did he try to grope you again?"

"No. Actually, yes, he did, but you know all about that. He's done it in front of you enough times and if you're not going to say anything, I'm not going to bother you with the details." Phil'd seen unsubtle gropes on my clothed boobs, wasn't quite aware that I'd let Charlie rub suntan lotion on me when I needed some relaxation time, where he gave my ass a good grope before asking me to turn over and spreading a lot of suntan lotion on areas that weren't exposed to the sun on account of still being covered by a swimsuit or, being a finger's depth inside my body. I didn't like him any more than we first met, but my courtesy could extend that far.

"Then what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that that... man... suggested that in ten years, he would be raping our little angel."

His eyes widened. "He actually said that? That he'd rape Alice?"

"No, his exact words were that in ten years, she'd be the mother of his children. Ten years. She'd only be twelve."

I could tell by the way he relaxed that Phil was ready to blow it off, and that's just what he did. "Oh, he was probably joking. And Charlie's never been good at math, he probably figured Alice would be 16 or 17 by that time."

"As if that makes it better."

"Look, don't worry about it. What are the odds that we'll both still be living here in ten years anyway?"

Pretty good, as it turned out, but at the time I thought he had a point. Still, I was disgusted enough that I kept stewing slowly, thinking back on it, gradually whipping myself up into a motherly rage. It was still brewing the next day, in fact. I woke up in a good mood, but mid-morning I remembered what he'd said and, rolling the words around in my head, I couldn't get them out. I tried masturbating... a good cum always relaxes me when I'm getting worked up about something, but I couldn't finish... it's hard to masturbate when you've got a two-year-old running around. But I kept hearing those words, and finally I found myself pacing, thinking what I should say to him the next time I saw him, and then convincing myself I shouldn't wait, I should go give him a piece of my mind right then.

I couldn't--not then--but I could once I left Alice with a neighbor while I "ran out for a few minutes." That few minutes turned into an hour, and my rant at Charlie turned into him leaving me an exhausted, cum-filled wreck on his couch.

I guess I should explain that a little, even if I don't completely understand it myself. I'm a passionate person--it runs in the family--and I guess it's easier to turn one type of passion into another than you'd think. I was there yelling at him, calling him every foul name in the book, threatened that if he ever touched my daughter I'd tear his balls off, and suddenly, his balls were in my hand. Not just his balls, but his cock, too, and he had a huge cock, fascinatingly huge, more impressive in length than thickness, although above average in both. Once I had it in my hands, I had to stroke it a little, test it out, I was half-convinced it was a fake that would come away with a slight tug. Well, tug tug tug, and the only thing that came free was the clasp on my bra... quite a trick, that. Charlie'd leaned over me and did that while I was distracted with the piece of meat in my hands.

Pretty soon his strong hands were all over me, too, and he was pulling off my clothes along the way, and I let him, which violated a rule I'd held despite the liberties I allowed with his massages, because then I only let him touch behind a swimsuit but never actually see any of my married, naked body, which seemed like a reasonable boundary at the time, but he'd pushed through that boundary just like he'd pushed through the last. Now I was letting him strip me and stare and feel me up as he did, so I held onto my last shred of dignity by looking away and just passively accepting his fingers, his eyes. Well, he did have nice fingers, so that was easy to do, but he must not have liked my looking away, because when they stopped feeling me up one hand went to my face, pulled it back towards him so I couldn't help but look in his eyes, and then closer, towards his mouth, and this crude neighbor, this man who was not my husband, he kissed me, sticking his tongue deep inside my mouth, and I let it in.

This wouldn't have happened if my husband came with me, I remember thinking, and suddenly, I was mad again, but mad at my husband. He really should have been there, should have marched over here that first night, instead of taking it all casually when molestation of his daughter was involved. Maybe he was right and Charlie didn't really know what he was saying, but Phil had a responsibility not only as a husband to back me up but as a father to make absolutely sure. So, I decided my revenge on Charlie could wait until he did something more than a vague threat about what he might do ten years in the future, and I'd take revenge on my husband with a little infidelity. I'd never cheated before, not officially cheated, nothing with tongue-kissing or penis-penetration, the only things that counted in my book, but this seemed like a great time to start.

An hour later, I walked out of his home on unsteady feet, officially a cheater in anybody's book, streams of fuck running down my legs. I'm sure there were nosy neighbors who saw, if not the cum, then the way I tugged my skirt down like a woman who'd just been fucked and hastily put on her clothes--which I was--but I didn't care. I wasn't thinking about the neighbors, much, I was thinking about the last thing Charlie said to me, after he'd pulled out of my asshole (I was leaking from two holes, but the ass was most recent).

Actually the last thing he'd said was, "But, until then, get out." But just before that, that rude, crude, vulgar man with a cock just as vulgar as he was, grabbed me by the cheek before my rectum had a chance to reclose, and with a shove to my face that was rough without hurting, pushed me onto his nearby couch. As I struggled to regain my physical balance and get upright, and my mental balance after he'd switched from passionate though rough lover to callous brute, he said, "I hope you didn't leave your daughter unsupervised. You'd best be getting back, because I'm depending on you to raise her right. In ten years, that girl is going to be the mother of my children, after all." And then he bent over me, leaned in close, close enough to kiss, and said, "And if you've got a problem with that, then you can come over tomorrow and yell at me some more."

Picking up Alice was mortifying, more because I was sure Suzanne had seen me coming out of Charlie's house with that 'fucked hard' look, but she didn't say anything, just gave me a smug smile that turned into a huge one when my daughter ran up and hugged my legs and gave me a hello kiss that was cute in other contexts but with what had been running down those legs was downright obscene, obscene-squared when she pulled away and licked her lips in the way kids do. Obscene to me, but to my red-faced chagrin, Suzanne turned away and looked like she was barely suppressing laughter.

At least she let me use her bathroom, where I cleaned up what I could before returning home with my daughter.

It was a lapse, but it wasn't a one-time one. I sweated that first day... Phil and Charlie were friends, and it would have been just like Charlie to tell my husband he'd fucked me, but I had no sign my husband was aware of my infidelity... and somehow when you get away with something once, it instills in you an urge to try again. By the time the first 24 hours had passed, I was certain I'd be going back to see Charlie again, to fuck him, to cheat once more. I think it's because I knew I was wrong, and I wanted to get caught and punished, but it had to be a fair catch. My husband had to find out rather than me confessing. Just letting it be a one-time thing would be like letting me get away with it so, for my conscience's sake, I had to keep cheating. That's what I told myself, anyway, while working up the courage to go back to see Charlie again, which, despite my decision, took a while to actually happen.

The next day I rubbed my kitty on and off all day, thinking about going over to Charlie's again. The day after, I finally tried... but he was out. Charlie, for a man who didn't have a job I was aware of, was remarkably busy. But I came back the next day, knocked on his door, and when he came out, shouted at him and told him what a disgusting pervert he was, that I didn't want anything to do with him, and before I could say anything else he threw me on the bed. He'd picked me up over his shoulder when I said "disgusting." For the next hour after being slammed on the bed, I had nothing negative to say about him.

So that was how my affair started. Not just cheating, which you might do once or twice, but when you know you're doing it over and over again with the same man, I guess you officially have to call it an affair. I don't know if this is the case for other cheaters, but an affair put an excitement back into my life I could hardly believe I was capable of. I'd say it was a sexual reawakening, but when I looked back to my life before I'm not sure I ever was awake, just sleepwalking. Sex with Phil was nice, sometimes. He's competent, attentive. I don't mean to disparage him. But sex with Charlie blew my mind, left me feeling exhausted, used, like a new person. Anal was always a no-go area before, but with Charlie I was an anal slut, and more, discovered kinks for submission and degradation and being covered in cum. I still hated the taste of it, always had, but even that I'd compromise and get off on being forced to endure him... although I mostly preferred when he squirted on my face. Even my glasses got more cum on them than a glory hole floor. I spent more on cleaning and hair products than I ever imagined possible, especially considering how much also went inside me.

Lots did. I didn't insist on being safe. Maybe I should have, but after Alice was born the doctor said I couldn't have kids anymore. And part of the thrill was letting a man cum wherever he wanted, like it was his right, like he had commandeered my body for his pleasure and I just had to take it, and take the pleasure that came along with it. You have no idea how exciting that can be. I certainly hadn't, not before I was in the middle of it, until literally every other part of my life seemed to be only pretend, marking time, between the two poles reality had narrowed down to... being a good mother who's looking out for her daughter, and being Charlie's on-demand slut.

The two were not, as I might have initially expected, mutually incompatible, though I had some guilt about trying to navigate around them. Gone, for the moment, were the worries about what Charlie said. He was a crude, disgusting pervert, but I loved that about him now, loved what he could do to me with that perverted nature, and thought I understood why he kept saying such outrageous things. Yes, he kept saying the same kind of shit that got me pissed at him the first time. "In ten years, she's going to be the mother of my children." Or related observations that should have raised any mother's hackles, or eyebrows if nothing else, like when he said he hoped Alice took after me when she started growing boobs, or, sometimes when I was gagging on his cock, making ugly noises, he said something like, "Shit if little Alice ever gets this good at blowjobs I might forget to dump my load into her baby-maker where it belongs."

Awful, disgusting, but in the moment... a huge turn-on. And that's what I understood about our relationship, that he was saying this provocative shit to get a reaction out of me, to get me angry and turned on. It was our thing. For the first few months, our sexual encounters still usually started with some variation on "In ten years, she's gong to be the mother of my children," or my taking offence at that. It was a ritual, rendered safe and meaningless by repetition.

I even wound up relaxing my rules about letting him anywhere near my daughter. There was day care, and friends who might watch her, but I needed Charlie, or needed to be available for him, more often than I could reasonably get parenting help. So, sometimes, I brought Alice when I went to Charlie's place to get fucked, sometimes I called him over when Phil was out at work and Alice was at home. I was white-knuckling it, the first few times, but he was friendly and polite to her and that was all. Alice was still one of my two poles, so I made damn sure to be on my guard, but Charlie was a perfect gentlemen in a way I didn't want him to be when he was with me. He never gave even a hint of actually being interested in touching her inappropriately, outside of dirty talk to start us off. Back then, that is.

I was in over my head. I see that now in retrospect, but I was addicted to him and willing to make excuses as long as I could tell myself it was just a game. Which didn't mean I wasn't being a bad mother in many ways. I can't tell you the number of times Alice must have heard us fucking. Almost never watched, that first year, though I always had a monitor on her (I might be a horrible mother but I'm not a negligent one) and sometimes if she made a fuss I'd rush out in a robe and she might see some of the aftermath of fucking if a glob of cum dripped out of me and onto the floor beside one of her toys. Or she might see if Charlie came out of the bedroom sporting a hard-on to come drag me back to bed, but that was incidental, occasional, distant. One time he did more, got a little more in Alice's face, but that was my fault, I had cum all over my glasses when I heard her crying 'moooom' and I since I can't really see well without them I tripped on my way to get to her, and Charlie came out to help me to my feet, and stood, fully nude, not a foot away from the front of my child while he cleaned my glasses for me, and by the time he was done, he was hard. At least, that's what he said, I couldn't really see, but he didn't seem to have touched her, just let her see a lot more than a little girl should have of male anatomy. Even there, I don't think she understood what she saw.
What she heard, though... well, she probably didn't understand that, either, but it was much more frequent, and I really dropped the ball there. I'd just hoped she was sat safely in front of a television or in a playpen, busy with her own childish interests while I explored a very adult one, but you can only shut out sound so much, especially if you need to keep an ear open in case your kid got into trouble. That was the price of having a lover, I thought, when you're a young hot mom... your kid might overhear. I told myself she would never understand that the sounds--moaning, squealing, rough slapping of slick skin against skin--what they all meant, and probably even believed it, and back then it might have been true, for the most part.

And anyway, after a while I started using a gag. I was never that into bondage stuff before, had to get one special ordered, but, sometimes as a parent you know you have to make changes. Especially after your little now three-year-old angel tells her dad, "Oh fuck yes don't you dare fucking stop" when he was pouring syrup on her waffles for breakfast and proved she was at least picking something up she could repeat, although luckily Phil thought it was from other kids at daycare.

I was firm after that, though, Charlie had to keep his dirty talk to a soft whisper, and since I obviously couldn't control myself, I wore a gag, which he seemed to like anyway. I guess I liked it too, but that wasn't the first bit of kink he exposed me to and it certainly wasn't going to be the last.

Phil seemed to have no idea what was going on, but in the neighborhood it was kind of an open secret and although I started out wanting to get caught--that's why I was so open--before long I regretted how brazen I was. I began dreading the day someone decided to take pity on my husband and tell him what his wife was up to while he worked. Because when he did, either it would mean a divorce, or it would mean I'd have to promise to end it and keep it ended, and I didn't really want either option. I just wanted to be a happy housewife who was for the first time in her life thoroughly sexually satisfied. And if the neighborhood knew and disapproved, they could at least keep it to themselves.

Not all disapproved... I started to enjoy gossiping about it with some of my Mom friends, least about the sex. None knew about the ongoing game Charlie and I had about Alice and her future destiny, but I would talk--brag even--about some of the stuff Charlie and I would do in my marital bed, the things my husband cherished that I would use to spice things up during or clean up after. That's a great stress reliever, by the way, if you ever get an occasionally-annoying husband. It was incredibly calming to remember that I sat on the pillow he sleeps on at night while cum dripped out of my pussy, or used his favorite shirt to wipe my face, or shoved his stupid bowling trophy up my ass to get Charlie hard enough for another round before he got home. Probably good for our marriage, too.

I probably embellished the stories more than actually happened, of course, to cover for the stuff I was leaving out, enjoying the persona I was creating of a cruel cuckolding bitch. The truth was that it wasn't really about Phil at all. Sure I was often angry at him and I blamed him for getting me into this (after all, if he'd just yelled at Charlie when I first brought up what he said, well, his ass might have been sore once instead of mine on a regular basis)... but I wasn't getting that much of a charge of the cheating itself. It added an extra spice to the sex, but it was a spice I could leave. If the worst happened and Phil left me, but I kept having great sex with Charlie, I knew I'd be okay with that.

The weird perverted game Charlie and I were playing around my daughter, though? That, I'm ashamed to say, did get my heart pumping a lot more. These comments about Alice's future weren't always a ritual before, to get us started, sometimes we skipped right to fucking and he might say something about it right in the middle, at a perfect moment to get me to cum, or right after, like a joke. But it was still a game, I told myself, and like any game, whatever emotions it stirs up aren't really anything to worry about. Just like the dumb games Phil plays, just because he murders people all the time in those, I have no fear that he'd ever hurt me. In the same way, as exciting as it was to hear Charlie talk like that, to sometimes imagine he wasn't joking, as long as it was just a game, it was okay. I was still a mostly good mother, first and foremost.
Until the first time I started to think maybe it wasn't a game, not for Charlie, and my two poles came into direct conflict.

That happened on what seemed like an ordinary evening. Alice wasn't there, and Phil was at an overnight conference at work, and so I called Charlie over for a rare evening session. He brought some beers and a pizza, and we enjoyed that and watched some Netflix in my marital bed and rode his cock while he slapped my ass. In retrospect, it was much more date-like than most of our encounters. Maybe that was why he tried it, although it was probably just that it was time.

During the fuck he did one of his usual oblique comments about Alice, saying something about how that was one thing I had over her, my taste, since we were watching one of the superhero movies, which isn't the most adult material but I don't expect much sophistication from Charlie. Then he added that he wasn't looking forward to fucking my daughter while she watched some tween shit.

Again, just dirty talk to get my motor running, and in this case, working two ways, not just the deliciously naughty--but just pretend, I was sure--idea of him fucking my daughter and telling me he was going to do it, but also inspiring me to make it good for him, show my worth, squeeze his cock and ride like I assumed--even when she was twelve--my daughter would have no idea how to do well, all winding up in a fabulous orgasm.

I lay on his chest a while, then got up to go to the bathroom, and he said, "Where is Alice, anyway? Her bedtime already?"

It would have been, were she there, but she wasn't and so I couldn't even be sure of that. "At her grandparents," I explained. Sometimes they let her stay up late and I felt like a hypocrite for complaining about that with the stuff I let Charlie get away with. And sometimes encouraged, as I did now, hoping his cock would twitch to life as I jokingly said, "As if you care."

That was when he said it, almost what I was baiting out of him, but also so different. "Of course I care," he said. "I want to be sure she's safe. After all... in nine years, she's going to be the mother of my children."

One number can make so much difference. I stared at him, stunned, although he didn't seem like what he'd said was any big deal, almost as though it was an accident, and I did some math in my head. It was almost a year since the first time he fucked me in his house, after that pool party that so enraged me.

Almost was key. If it was exactly a year, or just over, I might have told myself, "Oh, this was a fucked up way to announce the anniversary of our affair," and just rolled with it. Even found it sweet. But it wasn't, the actual anniversary of the pool party was still over a month away.
Nor was it her birthday, which was a couple months into the affair, one of my first big slips, in a couple of ways. I'd told Charlie it was coming, not really an invitation, though of course I knew Phil would invite him if I didn't, but I was in his bed, just talking after sex, mentioned that I needed to buy a cake. "Buying a cake? You're telling me you're not going to bake a cake for your daughter? The future mother of my children?" He slapped my side playfully, and as usual back then, I called him disgusting, hoping he'd prove how my disgust certainly wasn't enough to refuse his cock. Instead he said, "But at least I know how to bake." News to me. "Come on, we'll get some ingredients, and I'll help."

The ingredients consisted of a store bought cake mix, where you just add a few household supplies almost everyone has, which looked easy enough, and Charlie's help was mostly moral support and a lot of touching. He had to keep his hands clean for that, so I guess I couldn't blame him for not helping. But it got him into my house, while Alice was there, which may have been what he wanted, even if he didn't do anything to her directly. Three-year-olds can walk, of course, and are almost always underfoot, and although I made sure she was distracted with a favorite game on her tablet before we started, while I was mixing the batter, she did walk out to see Charlie standing beside me, thrusting up against me. Almost certainly didn't see his cock, probably wouldn't have understood it if she did, but she did see a pretty aggressive slapping together of our bodies, said, "Mama?" with a quizzical look.

"We're just doing paddy cake." I said, thinking quickly. "To make your cake." And for a three-year-old, that was enough of an explanation, and she listened when I sent her back to the living room. Maybe listened after, too, to the moans I was making, as I said, I tended to be loud, although after realizing how close we were to getting caught, I did my best to reign it in... this was before the gag, I thought I was good at controlling myself. Still, after a few more thrusts, I turned, squatted down, and took him in my mouth to finish, although he pulled out too early and splooged on my face. I leaned into it at the time, still finding that a powerfully erotic act, and considering I wasn't able to cum I was still fucking horny and touching myself, but immediately after I pushed him away and told him to get out. I was angry at him, but more at myself for being so sloppy.

No excuse for the next part, either, except that, after Charlie started back to his house, I had the wooden spoon in my hand as I wiped my face to try and clear the obvious damage. I realized I'd gotten Charlie's cum on the spoon (also partly mixed batter on my face, but that was less of a concern), then, at that point of arousal where you do stupid things, said 'fuck it' and mixed what I could scrape off my face directly into the bowl. Cum wasn't going to hurt her, my daughter'd already tasted some, once, and, in ten years (I told myself with that kind of gallows humor that I can only get away with in my head), she'll be taking it inside of her anyway.

Baking with cum is not a good idea, by the way. Both for the guilt of what you've done when the horniness fades, but beyond that, it does something to the texture. Or maybe I'm just a shitty baker, even with a box mix, but it was bad enough that at the birthday party the next day, Phil commented on it. "Geez, where'd you get this cake, at the dollar store?"

"Hey, don't knock dollar store cakes," Charlie said, who was visiting at the birthday party. "I've given more than a few girlfriends a buck-cake and they've always been very appreciative." I'd told him about what I'd done, to get him turned on enough to fuck me in the free time we had alone before the party. God did that get him charged up, so now he was grinning like he was in on a private joke, although he avoided the cake. Alice though, she didn't seem to have any complaints, shovelled handfuls into her mouth because she wasn't great with a fork yet, but I think that was more the frosting than anything else. Put enough frosting on it and a kid will stick anything in their mouth.

Anyway, I distinctly remember that when I told Charlie what I'd done, he called me a naughty bitch, but then said, "Then again, in ten years when she's the mother of my children, she'll probably be swallowing a lot more of it." And yes, fucked me. But it was the words important here, which I remembered because it was almost the same thing I'd thought, and the number was still ten years despite her birthday. And for months after it was still 'ten years.'
So clearly, her birthday wasn't a trigger for the change.

It also wasn't close to his birthday or mine or any other event I could rationalize away as deserving a special change to the joke. It was just out of nowhere, bam, one year down, nine to go. Because of that I had a sinking feeling that whatever fantasy he had in his head that he'd shared with me, tried to infect me with, was deadly serious, and we'd just passed some milestone only he knew. That the outrageous words that I had come to rely on as a fun lovers ritual wasn't rote to him.

It was a countdown.

No matter how people might judge me for what I'd already done, or have done since, or for that matter plan to do in the future, know that, here, my motherly instincts won out. I can't even remember exactly what was said, I was incandescent with rage, but I vaguely recall him not backtracking, not trying to claim it was just a joke, and so I threw that bastard out and told him I didn't want to see him again and that if I caught him near my daughter I would call the police.

I'm not proud of a lot of my decisions over the last decade, but I can be proud of that night, when I gave up the best lover I'd ever had to protect my daughter from his interest in her. And if you'd ever been driven to orgasm with his cock inside of you, a gag in your mouth, and a hand around your neck with just enough force to make it exciting, you'd know how big a sacrifice that was. You'd be a very lucky girl to get that kind of experience once in a lifetime, much less regularly, over years. And I was willing to give it up.

But god, I missed that cock. Missed having regular orgasms. By the end of the first week after he was forbidden from our house I was practically going into withdrawal. (I passed the 'No Charlie' order along to Phil as well, but without being willing to be specific about what happened Phil actually grew something of a backbone and said he wasn't going to just abandon his friend, which I was okay with as long as he did it nowhere near our home or Alice... I figured if Charlie told him about our affair then, he had more to lose than I did).

Before too long I decided that there was no way back to being a non-cheating housewife once you've cheated, so why suffer? I started having affairs, trolling for cock on Tinder, going out on 'Girl's Night' which was an excuse to hit the bars and go home with some guy, and so on. I dated widely... sampled different races, tested whether married vs single men were more exciting, even tried a few (legal) high school boys for which I was a dream come true. None really lived up to Charlie, but quantity has a quality all its own, as they say, and variety is nice. Sometimes I'd drag someone into the house and take a malicious glee as I thought I saw the curtains move in Charlie's house, watching how quickly he was replaced.

Yeah, quite a few of them I did it at home, in Phil's bed. I tried to be better about it, for a while, but eventually I just felt like I needed that spice of danger, the thrill of being blatant and shameless and even cruel about my cheating, and so had them just come directly to the house, or bringing Alice along to their place as cover, watching videos in their living room while I got my heels pinned behind my head in the bedroom. Having a child with you is a perfect cheating alibi.

None of the men I was with confessed any lewd long term plans about my daughter Alice, at least on their own. Some I teased out of them, just baiting them with comments like, "I don't know how long I'll keep you around, I bet you'll cheat on me with my own daughter when she gets old enough" or "You realize you're closer to my daughter's age than to mine..." but most of them didn't pick up on that I wanted them to play along, not reassure me. One of the high schoolers caught on, a little, and when prompted about the youngest girl he'd fucked talked about his now fourteen-year-old cousin he'd ass-fucked every family event since she was twelve and he was fifteen (which, I suppose, made him seventeen, but I THOUGHT he was eighteen when we started fucking and that was all that mattered). He said that he turned his cousin into a huge butt-slut, that she loved it and even though he wanted to stop doing it because he was worried his uncle would catch him one of these days, his cousin kept bugging him for it and so it kept happening. I had to assume his story was a lie, though, because his ass-fucking didn't live up to expectations... he was just above average. Still, I appreciated the storytelling effort.

Despite being neighbors and him remaining a friend of my husband, I saw Charlie very infrequently and shot him sour looks every time. I knew that even if he had some jealousy when I brought somebody home, he wasn't exactly hurting for companionship either... I saw my friend Suzanne coming out of his place more than once--and that ended that friendship--but she wasn't the only one. I don't think I was the only one who had high school students over, either. Not often, and for all I know it could have been for completely innocent reasons, or not-so-innocent but not illegal. They were plausibly eighteen. I guess.

I could have called the cops on him for the ones that might not have been, I suppose. Thought about it. Would be one way to solve the problem, at least if I got lucky and they burst in on him fucking an underage girl. Alice would be safe.

Assuming he went away for it. If not, I knew she might be less safe, and I'd have to be tops on his list of suspects for who called them in, no matter how anonymously I tried it. We'd had a conversation once, about snitches, watching a mob film. Charlie thought they were the lowest of the low and needed to be taught lessons, and I didn't want to find out what lessons.

I'm justifying again, I think. I was then, trying to make excuses for the possibility that I wasn't ready to give up, that some day I might get back to Charlie, who I still considered something of a sexual soulmate, as ridiculous as that sounded, particularly considering my sexual soulmate seemed like he seriously wanted to impregnate my daughter. I had to stay away from him, for her sake.

I was a good girl about it too. Well, again, 'good girl' notwithstanding the wide variety of cocks I let into my family's home and every one of my adulterous holes, but with respect to Charlie, considering how much I still craved and missed him, I'd say I was a remarkably good girl.

For about two years.

I ran into Charlie at, of all places, the grocery store. There was a reason I was surprised that time--years earlier--he claimed to be able to bake (and still have doubts about it to this day). I'd been to his house many times, and rarely did he have more than a jar of pickles in his fridge... at least in terms of food, since he often used the shelves for beer and other drinks. But that was one of the reasons I kept having him over at my place, since sex with him worked up quite an appetite and I knew I wouldn't find much there that satisfied anything but my pussy. He kept himself fed either by phone or freezer, relying on frozen, microwaveable food and take-out, and sure enough, the cart that pulled up beside me that day contained a few frozen microwave burritos and a six pack of beer.

I noticed it pulling up beside me first, didn't know who was pushing it... but I think I sensed it, smelled his pheromones, maybe, or maybe subconsciously saw him in a reflection somewhere, because my I noticed my nipples were already stiffening even before he said, "Haley."

It was so casual too, like we were neighbors just passing each other in the grocery store. Which we were, I guess, but there was so much more, and the way he said it was like neither our affair or the two years of no contact hadn't happened, that he saw me in the store, said hello in passing, like everything was good between us.

"Charlie," I said, and tried to put chilly disdain into my voice, to cut off the interaction, but somehow I was already slipping, already falling for his charm, his lack-of-giving-a-shit. That same casual disregard for how much I made it clear I despised him the last time I met must also have been what let him make such perverted plans for my daughter. I already had come to peace with how much that had turned me on.

"How've you been?" Again, like nothing happened. I just stared at him, trying to hold my resolve. "I'm not bad, myself. Have some more free time on my hands, since I got bored of Suzanne."

Was that a little bit of a hangdog look? Was that what sparked this, him sniffing around his ex (if we were ever a thing) because he was short one girl to fuck. I wanted to volunteer myself, knew I should kick him in the balls, compromised with a disdainful snort and said, "Probably she found out who you are."

"I'm not so bad," he insisted, then looked around. "Hey, how's Alice doing, anyway?"

He was doing so well, too, but he tripped over my hot button... my other hot button, I mean. "How dare you!" I whispered through gritted teeth. "I'm never going to let you hurt Alice."

"Hurt her? Who wants to hurt her?" he asked. "I'd never hurt Alice. After all, in seven years, she'd going to be the mother of my children."

He was exactly on schedule--or at least within the fuzzy range of my best guess at 'exactly' since I still didn't know when he scheduled the cutoff for dropping the countdown by one--but Alice was five, and five and seven make twelve. And Phil had suggested he couldn't do math.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I could turn the police on you right now."

"For what? To tell them I'm going to do something they might not like in a few years? Haven't done anything yet. Less than you, anyway." He was probably right. I was the first one to expose my daughter to his cum, if accidentally. I brought her over to his place knowing what he'd said, and the reverse. That's what kept me silent, mostly. "And you were all right with me talking like this for the longest time. Frankly, I was really hurt when you suddenly did an about face."

"That was before I knew it was a fucking countdown."

"Smart thing to do would be reassured by that." I just stared at him, knowing that I was letting his easygoing confidence work its magic on me. "You know what I've got planned, and my timetable. Any of the other fuckheads you bring into that house, you don't know what they're going to do. Fuck, you don't even know what your own husband might do when you're not around. At least with me, I tell you up front what my plans are."

"I'll stop you."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug. "Personally, I'm hoping to to turn you by then, get you to hold your little girl's legs apart while I put a baby in her." What was wrong with me that him telling me that made my knees want to buckle? "I guess we'll find out. It's up to you whether we have a lot of fun in the next few years before we do find out, or we don't."

"Seven years," I repeated.

He shrugged, which should have been a red flag. "More or less. If you're afraid that you can't hold out more than a couple years without being willing to give me your daughter, I understand. I don't think you will either."

"You don't know me at all. There is no way I'll ever help you. Your cock is good, but not that good."

"Sure it is. If you want to take this conversation outside, I could prove it. Could prove it right here but I don't want to get thrown out of here before I've got my beer." He held up his six-pack, smiling.

I fumed at him, but it was at least half for show. "Let's take this outside then," I said, angry, determined that I could prove to him that he didn't have some kind of magic brainwashing cock, knowing I was at least half-responsible for falling gullibly into exactly the trap he'd planned for me, but believing that knowing it made it not gullible at all.

He put his beer and burritos in my cart and then walked with me to the checkout, got me to pay for his stuff, and then instead of going to my car he took me to the alley behind the store and reminded me of what I'd been missing these two years.

In many ways I was like an addict, trembling with anticipation of something I'd been denying myself for so long, and needing it so much I was breaking all the rules I'd normally kept. I just let him push me up against the wall in public, where anybody could see. I thought being blatant about my affair was not hiding when I want to his house or had him come to mine, but this was a whole new level, anyone who looked in that direction could have seen me cheating on Phil, cheating on him with Charlie, could have recorded it on their phones even, but I didn't care. I let him pull my jeans down, and pound into me like he'd missed it as much as I had.
That might have been the most intoxicating thing, even if it was an act... or not even an act, a self-deception, because he never said anything like that. I just convinced myself I felt it in him, in the intensity of the situation that had me almost ready to cum in a few minutes. But intensity could come from the fear of discovery, the long deprivation, the humiliation of having gone back on my vow to myself, or even the dirty talk.

Because regardless of whether he missed fucking me as much as I missed being fucked by him, Charlie was a pervert and trying to make a point about how easily I could be swayed. "I miss your bed," he said, grunting right up into my ear at the end of my thrust, and that was probably where I first got the idea in my head that he meant he missed me, but he'd never said that and his next words implicitly put me in the back corner. "It's comfortable, warm. I think it'd be a great place to knock up your daughter." And God help me I squealed with audible pleasure, like those words were a second cock pushing into my heart when his real one had bottomed out. He pulled out and slammed me again. "But maybe this is what you want for her instead? You're such a dirty slut, maybe you want the same for your daughter in a few years? Is that it, Haley? You want me to have to go around you, fill her baby womb with cum in a dirty alleyway, like some bitch whore?," he continued, and somehow, in just that moment I could see that not as a threat, not as a bad thing at all in fact. "I can work with that, if that's what you want. The middle school Alice will go to's got a space by the dumpsters I could use." I didn't question, then, how he knew the layout of the middle school my daughter would eventually go to when she'd just started elementary school and I knew he didn't grow up here, though it occurred to me later. "You don't honestly think you're going to get her to stay away from me?" I moaned, which he took for a yes, I guess, but even I wasn't sure what it meant. "Telling her not to... that'd just make her want it even more."

Plausible, based on my own middle school experience, which I flashed back to in what almost felt like a slideshow of pictures, some real, some remembered fantasies, that somehow expressed a long story in a few seconds. I'd always rebelled more against the stuff my parent forbid... in my case the big problem turned out to be underage drinking in my later teen years, but I could easily see it being sex with an adult man much younger, if any of them had been willing to pursue. I remembered when I was thirteen realizing that one of the neighbors was looking through my window, and for a year straight I undressed knowing he was watching, and after he moved I continued that kink with sending pictures to strangers I was flirting with on the Internet. Both were pretty dangerous activities, but that didn't bother me back then. My first masturbation experiments, even before the voyeur, involved fantasies of faceless strangers grabbing me and forcing me to do sex stuff I barely understood, and I'd walk through parks alone telling myself I wasn't scared but really half hoping it'd happen. And it never did, but if it had, it was even possible it would have been Charlie... he was more than five years older, and seemed the type to rape a younger girl. But of course we didn't even live in the same city back then.

Even if Charlie was statistically unlikely, looking back I'm surprised I didn't get molested somehow. It didn't have to be Charlie, or some Charlie-like stranger. It could have been anybody. Strangers might have scared me but if a family member or trusted friend did it, I doubted I'd have told anybody. Not to mention all the crushes I had on teachers on that age, a perfect teacher's pet just waiting to be asked to do more than hand out test papers to everybody, volunteering to stay after to help with something and always being turned down. It was a good thing schools did such good background checks, because, really, I was perfect underage molester bait back then. Or maybe it was a bad thing, with Charlie fucking me so good now, it was hard to tell if I was missing out back then. Thinking back I was starting to feel a little cheated.

Either way, if my life had been a little different, I could absolutely picture myself fucking an adult man at that age and never telling my parents, even without extensive grooming. If he was good enough to make me cum with his fingers first, I could picture myself losing my virginity somewhere disgusting and dangerous, just to chase that next high. Alice was still practically a toddler, so when my imagination drifted to the next obvious place and I pictured Charlie fucking her in an alley, I was still mostly picturing myself at twelve, looking at me from an outside perspective. Still such a little girl, maybe hurting from something far too big for her but not willing to give up. She'd be too excited to be doing something naughty, getting one over on her parents and the teachers supposedly looking out for her, and when she should be running she'd instead be standing on her tiptoes to meet his cock. Maybe little Alice, with an active predator this focused on her, would get to experience the stuff I'd only fantasized about. Even behind an alley. "But shit, who am I kidding, I wouldn't do it behind some middle school dumpsters like she's a whore. She's special, and this is my kid we're making. My bed's not as nice as yours, but it'll do. I'm sure Alice will just tell you she's studying at a friend's house." Yes, that was plausible too. I was more of a romantic at that age. I could be dragged away and raped, maybe enjoy the thought of that, but I'd have wanted someone to make me feel special, make love to me, and if somebody offered that, I'd have lied to my parents to meet him. Did, when I was a little older and it was just a boy I met off the Internet who turned out to be my age but didn't have to be. My mom had forbidden me from meeting a stranger online, and the combination of that prohibition and Tommy's romantic words drew me out better than any of the real molesters who were luring me with sometimes quite lewd offers. They may have got pictures, but Tommy got my virginity. "You'll never know when she actually is studying, or when she's with me." Uncertainty like that would probably drive me crazy, I knew. "Well, maybe you'll hear me, even from here. I wonder if Alice will scream like you do? What do you think, should I get her a gag like you used to have, or let you hear her beg me?"

By now I was already being pretty vocal, almost drowning out the words he was whispering in my ear, as this crude, perverted, criminal older man was fucking me hard in a dirty alley, rough but not uncaring, with a certain gentleness and consideration, a hand reaching around to play with my clit like it was an instrument he was an expert at. Which he was. He knew how to play me. Every question he asked, I started answering with a yes, even if the answers contradicted each other, and soon I was answering questions he wasn't asking, making up my own questions, ones that may have been implied but I'm reasonably sure he never spoke out loud. 'Or would you rather watch?' Yes. 'Big moment in a daughter's life, it'd be a shame for mommy to miss it.' Yes. 'The price for watching is helping, you good with that?' Yes! 'You going to guide my cock into your daughter in seven years?' YES. 'Milk me into her womb?' YES! 'Why not right now then?' FUCK YES LET'S DO IT RIGHT NOW.

It was wrong, of course, but I was cresting into my own orgasm them, and at that moment there is no wrong. Alice was just five, and there was no way I could do something so horrible. But I could think it, use it to get myself off. And if I could do that, then waiting seven years seemed, by comparison, far less horrible.

I wasn't going to do that either, I told myself as my heart stopped its frantic pound, my eyes unrolled from the back of my head, and I became aware of Charlie's hand slapping me. "You're a kinky bitch." Then he grabbed my hair, pulled my torso back and up close for a whisper, mouth right in my ear. "I can't believe you'd suggest that about the future mother of my children." Oh god, he might not have asked, but I'd said he should do it right now while he was talking about having sex with my daughter in seven years. Well, there went all my moral authority. He lost some of his, too, because he didn't stop fucking me despite what I said, but not as much as me, because I was still squeezing on him and wriggling, struggling to get another cum out of him in this dirty alleyway before he finished. "I guess my cock must be that good, huh? Or is it just you?" he asked. "You know, I better not see any strange men coming by your house anymore." It was a whispered growl, almost a threat, but it felt like more than that, like he was claiming me, or reclaiming. Actually, he was making a point, "You know what I'll do and when... but who knows what you'll allow some other guy to talk you into when you get horny?" Point taken, and a rush of guilt taken along with it. I was still horny, but I gave up hope of cumming a second time, not this fuck... from the way his fingers dug into my asscheeks, Charlie was just about dumping his own load inside of me. I tried in vain to get what pleasure I could get from his spewing cock before the ride was over, then became aware of two people watching us from the end of the alley, an elderly couple who looked scandalized, and one grocery store worker from the other end, a pimply faced teen who looked like this experience just made his whole minimum-wage job worth it. That exposure was enough to push another wave of orgasm over me, not my best, but enough. I'm not sure if it would be more intense or avoided completely if I believed that these people heard and understood the whole conversation, but he'd mostly been whispering, even if I wasn't, so I felt like it was my dirty little secret.

Charlie couldn't be, not to them, but he pulled away, right as I was cresting, and with no support and my weak-legs I tumbled into the ground and what felt like a rotten banana, felt one last squirt on my neck. Without any apparent shame at the observers, he zipped up, then helped me to my feet and said, casually, "Great catching up with you, Haley. If you want to do it again, you know where to find me." He went to where we'd left the shopping bags, retrieved the stuff I paid for, and started off. Then, stopped, turned back, and added like it was an afterthought, just a friendly invitation, "Bring Alice, be great to see her again."

Maybe it was a friendly invitation, if he was absolutely serious about not doing anything until Alice was old enough. Maybe he just cared about the kid and wanted to see her. But regardless of whether that was true or not, it also felt like a message. The next time I wanted to ride the Charlie Express, bringing Alice was the ticket price.

I don't think most people can comprehend how humiliating it was to realize how easily I'd fallen off the wagon like that. To give you an idea though, I went back into the grocery store almost right after, Charlie's cum still dripping down my legs and making a visible wet spot on my pants, as well as some on my neck from that last squirt, just out in the open. I didn't want to shop like that, but when I put my bags in my car, I remembered that I hadn't actually finished my shopping and forgotten to get these digestive cookies my daughter liked, a few other odds and ends that weren't crossed off my list. And I had to add a new one... for some reason I felt I really needed some Kleenex before I sat back in the car.

Not everybody there saw what happened in the alley. But the older couple were there in the cookie aisle, the wife nudging her husband and whispering. No idea what, it could have been "There's that shameless slut," or "You really need to fuck me like that." And I felt eyes on me from the staff as well, so either the stockboy's story had gotten around, or he wasn't the only one to see part of the show. I thought about taking off my glasses, just so I'd look a little different and I wouldn't have to see every stare, but I needed it to read the brand names.

So I was a champ about that. I walked through that grocery store, got the stuff I needed, head held up high. It was an act, but it was one I could perform, even when the girl at checkout handed me the box of Kleenex I'd just purchased and said, "You've got a little... something on your neck." Her eyes said, 'Clean yourself up, you whore.' Of course I knew she was right, I felt it, but I took a Kleenex and wiped the now cool cum from my neck, knowing I'd have to do more in near the car, and I did.

There, alone, I used the Kleenex in two ways, both to clean up, and to dry my tears. For the first time since I was a middle schooler, I literally cried from humiliation... but it wasn't that scene, in the grocery store, that I was thinking about. That barely even registered. I was thinking about how I'd just fucked a man who I'd swore never to see again, a man I knew wanted to impregnate my daughter. In seven years, when she was twelve, but still, what kind of mother would do such a thing? How weak could I possibly be?

And more than that, what did it say about me that Charlie had a point? A few, really, but the one I was thinking about was what I said--what I agreed to--when I was too turned on to say no, and the possibility that some other guy could get me to say yes to letting him do something to my daughter, even at her tender young age. Maybe it was just a dirty fantasy in the heat of the moment, one I'd never actually go along with... but I'd thought the same of being with Charlie again, that after I figured out his plans I would never, ever be with him again. Look how long that lasted once I got horny enough.
So maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn't trust any other men not to talk me into something worse. Maybe I had to give up cheating on my husband, just for my daughter's sake, removing the temptation entirely.

I wasn't sure I could quit cock cold turkey like that.

By the time I made it to pick up Alice, the shame and humiliation had faded... that's one of the dirty secrets, it tends to do that, especially when you're the only one holding yourself accountable. One moment you're thinking "I'm a disgusting freak for even thinking that, I'll never do that again." and before long you're thinking about doing it again. And as I pulled up back at home with Alice, looked over to the neighboring house where Charlie lived, I thought about going to see him again.

He made a lot of sense, after all. His single-minded goal to impregnate my daughter in seven years rendered him a known threat, compared to anybody else and what they might talk me into. The devil you know, as they say. When I was young and my mom didn't have to drag me to church, I'd always thought that phrase was silly... why would anyone want to deal with the Devil at all? But now I knew, people made deals with devils because they abided by the rules, and maybe because the Devil had a big dick they couldn't resist. Charlie wasn't the Devil with-a-capital-D, but he fit both those categories, which meant he was a devil I could potentially deal with.

Several years of fun, before he tried what he was going to do. That's what I kept reminding myself. Years of regular, mind-blowing orgasms, and all I had to do was not let him convince me into helping. Because that was how you beat the Devil, you refuse to be corrupted. I could break off the affair at any time, the moment he made a move against Alice, the moment I sensed it was approaching. Demand Phil move us away where she'd be safe, or divorce him and do it myself.

Seven years was a hell of a safety margin, too. In a way, it could be like endurance training, working myself up to being able to resist him. He'd gotten me to say an unforgivable thing in the heat of the moment, but I had seven years to practice saying no instead of yes, seven years to get sick of his cock. Most marriages wane after seven years, right? Mine certainly got long dull before then.

By the time I sat down for a family dinner, my husband complimenting the meal with the same unimpressed voice he used when telling me he loved me in the morning, our daughter playing with her own food between us, I made the decision that if I'd fallen off the Charlie wagon once, I might as well fall a few more times, while it was safe.

I went over the next day. No, not with Alice, I had some dignity, and I needed to hash out a few things. And despite saying I should bring Alice, he let me in, grabbed a beer and offered me one like I hadn't paid for it. I took it, but didn't open it, wondering to see if we'd just start fucking, but instead he just leaned against the wall by the fridge and waited for me to say what I'd worked myself up to say.

"I'm never going to let you touch my daughter," I said. He looked skeptical, but didn't reply. "Despite what I may have said in the heat of the moment, saying and doing are two different things. Rest assured, I will move my family away before I let that happen. I will cut off your balls with a carving knife before I allow that." Maybe I should have started with the threat to him, instead of making it seem like a half-hearted afterthought. He certainly didn't seem scared. "But if you really think you can corrupt me into changing my mind... I can give you a couple years to try." He smiled widely at that. "It won't work, but I figure to even have a shot, you're going to have to make me very happy, and I might as well get some use out of your cock before I have to cut you off."

"Fair enough," with that irresistible confidence. I could tell from his eyes, the way he took a sip of his beer--like we'd just agreed to a friendly bet of twenty dollars, not my daughter's womb vs his manhood--that he thought he was going to win. He sat down at his kitchen table, and when he patted his leg I slid up on his knee, my own parted, and let him undo my pants and slip a hand into my underwear, let him warm me up for a fucking I could have without guilt, because we'd reached a deal. Almost. "One thing, though," he said, two fingers already inside me, my arms around him. "I need a promise, you don't get in the way of my access to Alice."

I tensed up so much my pussy walls clenched against his fingers, trapping them. I was sure he'd made a mistake, reached too far and blew the whole deal, which was going to be disappointing to both of us. "But that's like asking me to surrender right now..." Did he really think his fingers were that good?

"You can tell her not to do specific things with me, but you can't forbid me from being around her, or warn her to stay away from me. In return, I'll tell you and get your permission before I do anything with her you might not approve of. That's the deal. If I can't convince you, I can't convince you, but you know you're turned on by my trying... and if you won't let me even be around the future mother of my children when it's appropriate, I might as well not tip my hand and just do what I need to do when you're not looking."

Well, what would you do? Bad question, maybe. What should a person do? I mean yes, obviously, get out of the situation, call the cops or something, but we've established I'm not that strong. But if it's a choice between a molester promising to get your permission for anything, while you keep him and yourself satisfied, or leaving him horny and yourself horny and in the dark about what he might decide to do when you're not around if he gets too horny. What's the best call there? My pussy told me that this was the best deal I'd get, allowed him to keep finger-fucking me, all my tension leaving me when I considered the offer... well, not all my tension, obviously, but the extra tension that would have made it impossible to do anything about that other tension.

After I agreed in principle, he made me shake on it, or maybe I made him, but it made the whole agreement official, and possibly lost me the whole ball game, if you can consider my daughter's eventual virginity a type of ball game, but once the deal was made I could replace his fingers with that wonderful cock, and so, yeah, I made the fucking deal.

The next day, when my daughter came home from kindergarten (I had a deal with one of the other moms to pick up each other's kids a few days a week), Charlie was at the house, and I introduced him to my daughter as Uncle Charlie.

She remembered him... not just from seeing him, from a distance, as a neighbor, but to my surprise she called him 'Paddy-Cake Man!' which proved she remembered something of our previous affair. But the little darling was super excited that he was her Uncle Charlie, like it was something she knew she was missing from her life, and rushed up to give him a big hug.

Charlie was a perfect gentleman with her, too, that time. And for quite a while after, but that time was special, the first, and came right after he was most certainly not being a perfect gentleman with me. His hug was chaste, almost sweet, and lasted only a second, but he patiently let her show him his room, listened to her talking about that stupid fucking movie she'd watched a zillion times, even watched it with her without complaint. Honestly, it gave me hope... he was still a crude, disgusting man, but interacting with a child, he seemed like he had natural parental instincts, and I found myself hoping my then five-year-old could have a safe five years with Uncle Charlie and who would mysteriously disappear before the seven years were up.

It didn't work out quite that way. But it changed pretty gradually.

I had probably a year of guilt-free, completely unproblematic cheating sex with Charlie. Okay, only mostly unproblematic. The whole arrangement was questionable, obviously, as was Charlie frequently reminding me of the countdown, whispering in my ear the things he'd like to do to my daughter... in seven years. All the while, me getting off on hearing it. It didn't just end with being the mother of his children, he wanted to the right to use every one of her holes as his personal cumdump (after I'd showed her by example of how to properly suck a cock or take one in the ass)... he wanted to fuck her with me watching, fuck her while she ate my pussy, cover her in cum and watch me lick it off her body, bring friends over to use her mouth or ass or (once she was good and pregnant) her pussy, and so on. He admitted that some of that was just dirty talk, but refused to clarify exactly which, thinking I'd be hornier if I didn't know, and damned if he wasn't right.

With Alice, he continued to be a perfect gentleman, a perfect uncle, really. At least perfect from Alice's point of view, as he probably swore a bit too much to be an objectively perfect uncle but for a little kid him not playing by all the usual adult rules might have made him even more perfect, a signal that he might let her get away with stuff too. He'd often bring her a little gift, a toy or some sweet or a code to some digital merchandise in the game that I barely even remembered the name of but that Alice loved and somehow Charlie grew to know an awful lot about.

It was grooming, obviously, but it felt pretty hypocritical to get mad about that when I'd already agreed to let him try, as long as he didn't do anything, and he never seemed to... and believe me, I watched them like a hawk. But if you took out the goal, if some completely asexual person had performed exactly the same actions, had the same demeanor around my daughter--without any intention of eventually impregnating her--you wouldn't describe it as grooming, you'd describe it as being a perfect uncle. So why not call it that, as well?

Pretty soon Charlie was her favorite adult. When she had a birthday or there was a holiday, Alice would always ask if Uncle Charlie could come, and Phil, who was happy that our feud was over and he got his buddy back, would usually agree, so I was seeing a lot more of him, had to get used to pretending that he couldn't bend me over and fuck me practically any time he wanted, although I lost some of that edge and stopped fighting back at gropes and lewd comments in public (as long as Alice wasn't watching).

So when I say that first year was completely unproblematic, I'm using a very narrow definition, and a lot of it is by comparison, but I mean that I could easily jump back and forth from being a completely normal mother raising a child normally and a slut whose lover was an aspiring child molester. They were two separate worlds. Our sex was usually nowhere near Alice. Usually.

School helped an awful lot with that, providing a regular interval where I could get the carnal satisfaction I needed and yet not expose my daughter, although we didn't only do it during school hours, by any means. Sometimes we'd leave Alice with Phil, or on a playdate with a friend, and do it then. And, sometimes, I'd drag her over to Charlie's house or he'd come over, and I'd get my old gag out and we'd do it with only a wall separating me from my daughter.

That was actually harder than it used to be. There was always a risk before, of her wanting to interrupt, but it was usually because she wanted her mother's attention, or to kiss a boo-boo or fix a snack. Now that she loved Uncle Charlie, there was much more of a risk that she'd want to come in just because he was there, to show him something that had happened in her game, or just because she got curious about what he was doing. What he was doing was fucking mommy up the ass, dear, but we couldn't tell her that. Poor Alice faced a number of locked doors where her mother had to take the gag off to tell her to go back to her game, Uncle Charlie and I had some adult business we needed to finish, and then put the gag back on while she stormed off and had a tantrum.

Mommy had to be the one to tell her, because I couldn't trust Charlie to... he always wanted me to handle it. Sometimes, Charlie would use the opportunity to whisper another suggestion to escalate things, like, 'you should let her come in and watch,' or 'hey, why don't we mix some of my cum into her lunch today' but it was usually after we'd gotten back to the sex rather than when Alice was right at the door, and he always respected my no, even if just given with a shake of my head.

We did wind up mixing cum into her birthday cake batter again, when she turned six, but that I considered a one time exception, tradition that we'd just skipped for a few years. Cake still tasted awful but Alice seemed to like it. And this time all the baking happened while she was at school, and I just jacked my lover's cock directly into the bowl while he talked, fantasized aloud about getting my daughter addicted to the taste.

That was my one big slip of Year Seven, if we can call it that. In my head, I was calling it that... sometimes I accidentally mixed things up, when someone asked Alice's age and I'd say, "Seven," but I really meant, "In seven years, she'll be the mother of Charlie's children." Or not, if I did my job, if I won our little power struggle. Which I thought I was going to, at that point--handily--despite what might seem like a surrender in terms of counting time.

A part of me was even disappointed at that easy a victory. Which was probably part of Charlie's plan, if he had a plan. I was starting to think he didn't, he was just a kinky fucker who had gotten a regular fuck-buddy who could share his fantasies and, occasionally, feed his sperm to her daughter... but I wanted him to push harder. I still wanted to win, but I wanted it to be more of a fight.

Year Six, it started to become one. That is, again, six years before she became the mother of his children, but coincidentally she was also six when it started, which was very convenient for me. That was also when I learned more exactly the date where things switched. Somewhere around March 15th. I spent about a day trying to figure out what was significant about that date.

Finally, I asked Charlie. The day after the number on the countdown dropped. On the day I heard the new number itself, when I heard the change, fuck, it got me so turned on. It was like one of those times where Charlie'd just gotten back from having to go away for a few days, and I'd gotten to be so in need of a good fuck that we did it three or four times in a row... only this time there was no dry spell before, it was the number itself that turned me into a beast and we just kept fucking until finally I realized I was late to go pick up Alice (and my friends' kids, as it was my turn) and had to rush out the door.

The next day while she was at school, he was over again, and this time it was after the fuck he said it. Again, the countdown stood at six years, so I asked him, what was so special about that date. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing special about the date at all. Just that that was the day it was when I found out you couldn't have any more kids, so, I figured... gotta knock up your daughter instead."

Our affair was sexual, not romantic, but that was the most romantic thing a man could say to me about impregnating my preteen daughter.

"If it was you, we'd have been done by now. I hate having to wait so long, but, hey, if I didn't have standards, I'd knock up any old slut."

"What happens if I win?" I asked him. "Last the whole ten years?"

"You won't."

"You so sure? All I have to do is not give you permission, right?" I was testing him, since he HAD promised not to do anything without telling me first and getting my okay. Maybe he'd tell me had no intention to follow the rule he agreed to and I'd... I didn't know, actually, whether I'd throw him out of bed and out of Alice's life, or just continue on and decide to be more vigilant.

"Then I'll just focus on other options, I guess. Be a shame to lose all that time I invested. Course, it has been an awful lot of fun investing it."

It was the right answer, at least to me, right then, allowed me to relax, just go along and enjoy the fun. Even be generous. I thought about offering something, in celebration of the year going down. It seemed like something worth celebrating then, like any birthday. We might have established a tradition already about Alice's birthday and mixing Charlie's cum into her cake, but there was no way I was making another cake for no reason. Instead, maybe I'd start my own game. I had this idea that I might, the week after the number drops, commit to agreeing to the first thing Charlie suggests about doing to Alice, no questions asked, see how many years it takes him to catch on, take advantage to win. The thought was shamefully exciting enough that I climbed on top of him as though his words had turned me on and got me ready for another go. But it wasn't his words, it was the idea of surrendering without telling him, of leaving it up to, fate, almost. Maybe I'd make that resolution a vow before God... I'm not particularly religious, but it felt like if I did that, and Charlie made requests, it would be His fault.
After all, it had been a while since he'd asked for anything, what were the odds he'd do it in this magic week?

I didn't make that vow, though... probably only because Charlie did not make me shout "Oh God," because it was one of the rare times he refused me. The man was a stallion, but his stamina was not limitless and, sometimes, he'd not give a damn about my needs. Which was often a turn on in its own way, to want him so badly and be refused... it's hard to describe. This was one of those times, and he complained that he didn't have time for another go, and in doing so he lost out on a guaranteed path to victory.

Not that he needed my help, but at the time I thought he did. Thought for sure we wouldn't be able to keep the passion up that would be required, for a full six more years, that would be needed for him to turn me away from my motherly instincts, and, fresh off a refusal that cost him an advantage, I was sure enough that I'd win.

Sure enough to offer a consolation prize. Or rather, the offering itself was the consolation prize... since I was no longer prepared to grant him any request on this countdown anniversary, I brought up one of his other, older requests, a safe one, and next time I was sucking cock and I thought he was getting close, I pulled away and asked, "Want to save it for Alice to drink later?"

I wasn't going to feed it to her directly, of course--she was at school--but at that age she was prone to drinking these yogurt drinks afterwards. I thought they were sort of disgusting, almost cum-like themselves, which gave me the idea. I certainly didn't want to swallow the load myself. So that day I led Charlie by the dick into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and got out one she'd half drunk and milked his cock into it the remainder.
He had such a grin on his face I had to rein him in some. "Don't get the idea this is going to be a regular thing," I warned him. "This is just because you made it through another year." And so established the tradition, I hoped. On birthdays and to celebrate March 15th, I'd feed my daughter his cum, indirectly.

Charlie didn't get to see the results of that, in person at least. Only I got that pleasure. Charlie wanted to stay, pouted when I wouldn't let him, pointed out that it meant that technically, he had to trust that I fed it to her at all. He was right. It would have been so easy for me to chicken out and dump it in the trash... and I thought about it. I knew that if the situations were reversed and he was the reluctant neighbor I was trying to eventually sway into fucking my daughter (or whatever, if I was a guy and Charlie the mom), I'd damn well be sure to watch her swallowing it.

I decided to compromise and film it on my phone. He'd still have to trust me, because it would have been easy to just swap out that bottle for another one, fill it with something else, but at least this way he'd get to enjoy the fruits of his labors, so to speak.

Alice didn't think there was anything unusual... about my filming, anyway. Like many mothers of our modern age, I was often making videos of her for random reasons, so if she did something cute I could share it on social media and everyone would know what an adorable child I had and, therefore, what a good mother I was. But I had to keep a straight face and I worried she might think something was up when I had my phone up and pointed in the direction of the fridge when she came in, as she often did, looking for something to fill her tummy before dinner. "You've still got one of your yogurt drinks you didn't finish," I reminded her. Nothing unusual about that reminder, either, as I was always warning her about waste.

What she did notice as weird was the taste. After she took one gulp her nose wrinkled up and she looked at me. "I think something's wrong with this," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Tastes funny."

"You probably left it too long. Does it taste bad?"

She took another sip and I almost lost it when she licked her lips after. "No, just weird."

"If it doesn't actually taste bad you should finish it. I certainly don't want to drink it, and if you want me to keep buying it for you..." I left the threat unfinished and she guzzled the rest of the bottle and wiped her lips. "What's for dinner?"

I didn't want to cook and decided I probably owed it to make it up to her, so I said I was going to get McDonald's which put a big smile on her face, but then she ran off to watch TV and I went to my room to send the video to Charlie.

"Looks like she liked it," he texted. "All smiles at the end."

"That was from the McDonald's."

"Good plan," he texted. "Give her a reward for drinking up. Taste already probably reminds her of birthday cake, and you just made it another happy memory."

Was that what I was doing? Oops. "Well, don't get used to it," I warned him. "One time thing."

Of course it wasn't. But I cooled off for a while. In fact I'm pretty sure the next time she tasted his cum was on her birthday again, when she turned seven, months later. That time we did two loads, one for the batter and another mixed into the frosting. Good thing that she had enough friends over that none of the adults got to try any of the cake. And if I was accidentally conditioning my daughter to Charlie's cum, well, at least I was spreading the love around. I was also starting to feel like I'd gotten better at the whole baking thing.

By that time, Alice knew what cum was, although I'm pretty sure she hadn't yet associated it with a particular special birthday flavor. If she had, I imagine she would have asked about it when cum milkshakes started being a regular feature of Uncle Charlie visits. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, that was a Year Five thing.

She knew what cum was because Charlie had convinced me, not to do anything involving her, but merely to be a little less vigilant. We were caught, a few times. And being caught, that requires some explanations, particularly when you're caught taking a facial. Caught riding on Uncle Charlie's cock, which had already happened by accident, that requires some too, but kids at that age can accept most explanations at face value. "We're just doing some special exercises to keep fit," was a good enough explanation for that. Or "I'm just playing an adults-only game with your Uncle Charlie," was even better. She totally understood as Charlie was really good at giving her horsey rides too, only she was on the other side and both of them were clothed, so Mommy's variation made perfect sense to her.

I'd say that I worried that it might get back to her father, but in all honesty, that was part of why I did it, played with fire and let Alice catch us (or didn't take enough precautions to prevent it... I maintain that I didn't specifically decide to let her walk in, at least not in Year Six), because, my reasoning went, if Phil found out about the affair, then he would solve my problem for me. At the very least, Charlie would be forbidden from the house, or maybe Phil would divorce me, but then I'd have to move, wouldn't I? I'd take Alice with me, and then... well, I could go on listing things that didn't happen all day.

Only two of those are important in Year Six, that Phil never called me on any of the shit I pulled, and that Charlie didn't do anything inappropriate with my daughter. But I did have to explain to her what cum was, what cumshots were, and that some people, when they're old enough, really like getting a blast in the face. It's just like how sometimes she had fun playing in the mud, I explained to her, sometimes adults like getting dirty, but only in very special ways.

Of course, despite making it very clear that this was something for adults, for people who were old enough, Alice did ask if she could try having a cumshot from Uncle Charlie too. But no, she was way too young for that, and I lied to her that if she was too young it would hurt... which I didn't think was a lie, actually, because people always told me sexual activity hurts kids, but it felt like one, and she pouted and stomped off and had a tantrum.

Charlie didn't push, then, just gave me a shrug, but I sent him home and did some mother/daughter activities Alice liked to try and push her out of her sulk, and repeated my lie/not-lie but promised that if she kept it a super secret I'd let her try one as soon as she was old enough that it wouldn't hurt, which I promised was before she was a teenager. Because either Charlie would have won or he'd have lost and Alice wouldn't be interested. And it satisfied her, some... at that age, she didn't really know much about ages or how long time was... a year might as well be a week or a century, but she had a sense that "when you're an adult" was a super, unbearably long way away, and "when you're a teenager" was a really long way away, but before you're a teenager was vague and still in the "could be any day now" range. But I tried to make clear, again, that she couldn't talk about the games Uncle Charlie and I played, or he would have to stop coming over. I even did this little gesture... mimed zipping my lip, then turning a lock in the middle and throwing away the key, and made her repeat it. I wound up making that gesture for a lot of things over the years.

If I had to nail down the sin that was most responsible for all of this, it was that one. Not cheating, that just got the ball rolling. Not the unforgivable stuff I let Charlie do later, either, by that time I'd already surrendered... but that choice to convince my daughter to keep my secrets. My mom used to always tell me "Kids shouldn't keep secrets, and they aren't usually very good at it." Of course, she was saying it to try and get me not to keep secrets from her, but once I stopped being a secret-keeping teen and had a kid of my own, I believed it as a general principle. I've since decided she was wrong. Sometimes kids have to keep secrets and it's true they're usually not good at it... but it's like any skill, if you get them started early they can develop a real talent for it. At the time, though, asking Alice not to say anything seemed like sticking a finger in the dyke: an obvious, but tiny precaution to try and hold back an overwhelming problem, something that seemed like it was the only thing I could do, so I did it, even though it felt like it shouldn't possibly work.

I kept waiting for her to blurt something out accidentally, and maybe she did but people either didn't understand or snickered to themselves at the kid who innocently exposed her mother's affair... whatever she might have revealed didn't seem to require any urgent action. So many people in the area already knew that one particular juicy secret and I think keeping what they thought was my deepest, most shameful secret made them feel superior to me. Sometimes they got catty about it, particularly Suzanne who must have been jealous that I had Charlie again, but it wasn't strong enough to blow up my life and lose that moral leverage.

Still, the cattiness hurt and I did feel a little excluded from the mom community. I certainly had friends, women who appreciated my stories, who lived vicariously through me, but to a lot of them I was the slutty mom they put up with because their kids were friends with my kid. Which is probably why I had no guilt about feeding Charlie's cum to their kids in a birthday cake (and frosting) at her birthday party.

Again, not like any of those kids knew what they were tasting, even Alice who knew what cum was. And again, enough frosting, some scoops of ice cream... kids weren't going to notice anything off.

It did get Charlie worked up, which of course was just as important to me--more, really--than the spite. Despite giving me two loads for the cake, he gave me another one while he stuck around to 'help me clean up,' while Phil went to bed, having enjoyed a few too many beers at the party. One of the few times I actually fucked Charlie with Phil in the house, at that point, though it grew to be pretty frequent later.

That man couldn't stop talking about Alice enjoying her birthday cake... not just that day, but for a few weeks anyway, he kept randomly bringing up how adorable it was... and I knew what he was hinting at, but I held firm, deying all his requests, both spoken and unspoken... except for ones that might lead to Alice catching us playing adult games again. Feeding her his cum... that I resolved to save only for special occasions, though Charlie was around for a lot of special occasions to supply a special ingredient. Thanksgiving, I mixed it into the gravy (Phil doesn't like gravy, but Alice and I do, so I make it). Christmas, I gave her a special eggnog. Both were also produced with Phil in the house, but since I was just jacking Charlie off or letting him fuck my mouth and my husband was distracted watching football or wrapping the last minute presents he bought, we could be quiet about it.

The countdown hitting five was another special occasion of course, and that counted, and I remembered the previous year's idea of just giving Charlie anything he requested, but again, I went for the lesser evil and just suggested something myself, something she'd already done, but with a new twist. Alice had lost her love of the yogurt drinks, but there was a treat she liked and asked for every time we went to McDonald's, but I'd never made it at home. Except, I could, easily.

So, one afternoon, just after the countdown hit, Charlie was still visiting after Alice was home from school. And she was giving him the usual favorite uncle treatment, trying to monopolize his attention, show him stuff she did in school, and so on, which was one of the reasons I usually didn't like to spend my Charlie time with her in the house, but this time it fit right in with my plans. So I told her, "How would you like me and your Uncle Charlie to make you a special home-made milkshake?" Her eyes lit up like that, although I suspected that she doubted her mother's ability... after all, my burgers never seemed to be a treat like the ones from McDonald's were, the fries I cooked never held a candle to whatever magic they pull with theirs, so why wouldn't this be the same way?

Well, she'd never tasted my special milkshake recipe yet, but must have thought that a subpar milkshake was better than no milkshake, and so readily agreed to my terms, that if she stayed in her room and worked on her homework, Charlie and I would make a milkshake for her.

In the kitchen, I put the blender on the floor, got on my knees, and sucked on Charlie's cock, with gusto, hoping to remind him that yes, I might be donating his cum to my daughter's milkshake, but there was no way she could get as much of his cock in her mouth as I could, not for far longer than 5 years. And she certainly would have gagged when it hit the back of her throat, but not me.

I almost went too far, got carried away... which wouldn't have been the end of the world, of course, if he came in my mouth. Like I said, I never liked cum myself, so it was always an effort of will to swallow anyway, even if I sometimes make it seem automatic, or forget I'm not supposed to like happened when I was making the Christmas eggnog. I could just as easily hold it in my mouth and spit it out in the blender, call it a snowball milkshake.

Charlie had his eyes on the prize though, and pulled my hair back until I was off his dick, said, "That's for your daughter, not you," and I gave him a messy smile, dripping with my saliva, trying to say 'Yes, I know,' with my eyes, and directed his cock to the blender, and finished him off there.

Then just added milk, vanilla, and ice cream (lots of ice cream, ice cream makes anything palatable), while Charlie wiped his slimy cock on the rim of one of Alice's favorite big cups. He had been paying attention to her habits, after all, and I guess didn't want to waste any bit of flavor.

Soon it looked like any other milkshake, poured into any other kid's cup, and we walked up to Alice's bedroom to give her the special treat. It was a treat for Charlie too, because he got to stay to watch her drink this one. I looked at him while he watched it, more intently than he ever did the cum-cakes, maybe because this was liquid. Once she'd had a good gulp, he asked if she liked it with big vulnerable eyes, and a "I helped make that, you know." I thought at first might have guilted Alice into saying she did, but she drank the whole thing without prompting or complaint. I suppose it was significant, in a way, the first completely full load he got to watch her drink in person--no sharing with other kids, none swallowed or spilled on my hand as in many of our previous times--but it was sort of imaginary significance. Mostly, it was just a happy interaction that I knew wasn't going to hurt her. A special occasion.

What I was not prepared for was her to keep asking for milkshakes every time Charlie was over. I tried making her a normal milkshake once, gave it to her after Charlie left, but she took one sip and asked, "Did Uncle Charlie help you make this?" and I had to tell the truth, and she said "I want the kind Uncle Charlie helps with. It tastes better!"

Well, what was I to do?

I mean, yes, besides stopping indulging Charlie in these perverted games, dump his ass, move away, yadda yadda yadda. We all know I didn't do that or you wouldn't be here.

Instead, we made it a habit. A special treat. Not an everyday treat certainly, we couldn't do that--I was concerned about the sugar more than the cum--but once-in-a-while. If she was good. If Charlie was good, too. Both were pretty good. In fact, I'd almost say drinking his cum regularly helped bond them together.

I resented it at times, different aspects of it depending on whatever I was most insecure about at a given moment: that my husband didn't seem as attentive with his own daughter, that my daughter was happier to see her uncle than me, and that Charlie gave some of the cum that was my right to my daughter. All of those details pissed me off at one time or another, although the last was easier because Charlie liked it even more when, instead of jacking him off into the blender full of milk and ice cream, if he shot his cum inside of my pussy and I squeezed it out.

That was pretty fucking dirty, I guess. It was also a lot more work, and I didn't want Alice to walk in on me helping to make it that way, like she had with Charlie adding his contribution to the mix.

Yes, I'd had to punish her for that already by that point. I'd made it very clear that the rules were that she had to stay in her room while we made her milkshake, but seven-year-olds don't always listen and she stormed into the kitchen to see Uncle Charlie's cock squirting on the scoops of ice cream already in the blender. "Hey sweetie," he said. "Just adding the secret ingredient."
I panicked, and did that thing that parents sometimes do where we're a little harsher in our punishments because we know we're the one who's done something wrong. It wasn't like Alice was deliberately trying to see how the milkshake was made--I think--she just got overly excited about something in her game and wanted to tell her Uncle Charlie. But I laid down the law, got in the way of her view of Charlie's cock, and said, "You know the rules, you're supposed to stay in your room." I pointed, and she pouted and went off. I also sent Charlie home.

She called back a few minutes after she heard the whine of the blender, asked, "Is it done yet? Can I come down?" like the secret ingredient hadn't bothered her at all. But then at her age, the significance might have been lost on her.

I told her she could come down, and she asked for her milkshake, and I told her, "No, this is Mommy's milkshake. Only girls who follow the rules get milkshakes made for them." And I drank it in front of her.

Not bad, if I do say so myself, by the way. I mean I'd had little bits of the taste before, but never a full milkshake. You can definitely taste the flavor if you know what it is, but it's much subtler, made pleasant by the sugar. Clearly I'd been tasting cum the wrong way my whole life. Or maybe cum just tastes better when you know it was intended for somebody else.

Alice did not take that well. She watched, maybe hoping that I'd relent and give it over to her after drinking half, or reveal a second milkshake that I'd then give to her. Which, to be fair, was often my punishment style in those days, to try and make her think I was going to come down hard on her and then relent when she showed contrition. But it was a habit I knew I had to get out of, and she did apologize and pouted and I told her I accepted her apology but she still hadn't earned the milkshake, and when I was completely done and there was nothing waiting for her, she huffed, stomped her foot and said, "You're so unfair, I hate you."

I guess every parent gets the 'I hate you' now and then, no matter how good (probably especially if they're being good), but it still was like a dagger in my heart.

Another in my gut, because I was aware that she still had enough to sink me, if she got mad enough... even if Alice herself wasn't aware of that. When Phil was home, every time he was alone with Alice, asking her about her schoolwork, tucking her in and kissing her goodnight, I tensed and prepared for him to come back yelling as Alice revealed exactly what I was milking to help make her milkshake. That same mix of dreading it and hoping it would happen. Leaning a bit more towards dreading, because if my marriage blew up in such a way that I couldn't keep Alice with me when I left... well, I trusted Phil but not enough that I thought I could leave him as sole parent without him trying something eventually. At least with her 'Uncle Charlie' I thought I could manage to keep him in check, and it wouldn't really be incest--at the time, I had a big hangup about that. So could I risk leaving her with Phil? Especially if he found out his wife had essentially been conditioning his daughter to enjoy drinking cum?

I'd never really thought about it like that before that night... I mean, not deeply, anyway. The thought had popped in--when I did it during a happy occasion like a birthday party--that I was probably accidentally conditioning her, but it was something like a private joke. But since I'd started making a regular, non-birthday habit, I wondered if I needed to take the 'accidentally' out of that joke and maybe even consider that it wasn't a joke at all. It's basically what I was doing, at that point, even if I didn't go into it with that intention. Even that day's misadventure, in denying it I may have made her crave it more, even knowing the source, the milkshakes were a treat she earned with compliance, and if she ever wanted to turn it into a taboo, stolen treat, now she knew the secret ingredient, or who to ask for it.

I actually had sex with Phil for the first time in a few weeks that night. Waiting in bed, just in case Alice had alerted him, I was thinking about what I was doing, like that, as conditioning my daughter to enjoy my lover's cum. I played with myself a little, thinking about that--turned on is better than terrified--and when Phil slipped into bed beside me and said nothing, well, he was my husband. Charlie had never demanded I not sleep with him, so I pulled my husband's hand over to feel me and how wet I was. Phil seemed surprised, but after years of marriage he took his opportunities where he could get them, and we got to humping. Again, pleasant, but not that exciting... maybe a little better than usual from my relief at having escaped detection and the dirty fantasies running through my head.

And the next time I suggested a milkshake to my daughter, she stayed the fuck in her room without complaint. Though I thought I noticed her eyes staring at Charlie's crotch as she drank it. If she still liked it that much, knowing where it came from, I wondered how long before I started giving it to her direct from the source.

Still a couple years, as it turned out. But she sure drank a lot of milkshakes. And I took a little more control of it, again, reminded her it wasn't an every day treat. I mean, Charlie himself wasn't an every day treat for me, and I didn't want all of his cum going to her when I still had a few years left to enjoy him. Alice quickly picked up on the fact that if she bothered me when I wanted to be alone with Charlie, her chances were much lower.

I still really didn't have any intention of letting Charlie win the big prize he wanted. Drinking cum was, as I said, harmless, and if it kept Alice from seeing more of the stuff she'd already seen but shouldn't, a small price to pay. And if I fantasized about giving it to her "right from the tap" now and then, I still firmly considered it one of those dark fantasies that everybody has but would never act on.

But as school let out for the summer, and Alice's eighth birthday was inching closer, I started to worry that the cake wouldn't be special enough, since the secret ingredient was already in the milkshakes. I suppose that her friends would share her cake might have been a nice treat. As weather got nicer, sometimes she'd have friends over--well, she had friends over from time to time the whole year, but it started to become more frequent because we had a pool--and obviously, sometimes Alice would ask me to make milkshakes for her and her friends. If Charlie was there... or, once in a while, if he wasn't, but she knew he was home next door. "Just ask Uncle Charlie to help." I relented, twice, but each time I made sure that only Alice got a milkshake with the 'special' ingredient. I mean, mostly, I used the same blender and made Alice's first so there were probably a few sperm cells lurking around in the other glasses, but not a whole load. Charlie certainly can't produce cum to fill the milkshakes for the whole neighborhood. I tried to explain that to her, without using the word 'cum' even though I think that that point we both knew exactly where it came from. All I had to do was get across the idea that it's a special, secret ingredient and there's not enough for all her friends, just her and me.

"But I don't see you drinking milkshakes. Do you have them when I'm not here?"

"There are other ways to enjoy it," I said, then wondered if she remembered the times seeing Charlie explode on my face, put it together, if she thought I was wasting perfectly good milkshake ingredients, or if the gears in her head were turning in another way. Maybe she was wondering if there were better ways to enjoy it that she was missing out on, that she could ask for. Maybe she remembered my promise for something she'd get to experience 'before she was a teenager' and would ask for that, for her birthday.

I had a number of anxious nights about that possibility, even though I was still pretty sure I'd say no. The anxiety came from other sources, worrying that she'd get mad at me, or that she'd ask her father when I said no, as she often did for things... not to mention the anxiety from what it meant for me to masturbate thinking about saying yes. I even avoided asking about what she wanted for her birthday in the weeks leading up to it, just to avoid having to make a choice.

Of course she told me what she wanted for her birthday without asking, and of course it was innocent. She was turning eight, and despite my head being filled with inappropriate ideas thanks to Charlie's countdown, she still loved kid things. And like usual, it wasn't just one thing she wanted... toys, shirts, stuff for her games. Kids are expensive... it's a good thing Phil makes a good living.

There was only one thing that gave me pause. She wanted to go to a movie with Uncle Charlie.

Without me.

We'd gone a few times, the three of us, and it was always kids movies and I always wanted to leave halfway through just because they were so dumb (mostly... a few were watchable). And one time Charlie took me to fuck me in the bathroom while my daughter enjoyed the movie (another mother was there with her kids so we could get away with it), but we nearly got caught and thrown out and banned from ever coming back... but that's another story and suffice it to say we're still welcome at that theater but I get the feeling that every time they see me they assign an extra usher to make sure nobody wanders into the wrong bathroom.

Leaving my daughter alone with another mother for a bit of me-time was risky... but it seemed like letting Charlie take her alone was even riskier. We were still in Year Five of the countdown. The halfway point, really. Depending on whether Charlie lived up to his word, it could be completely safe, or an unforgivable slip of attention. As I said, I'd always kept a close eye on the two of them together. Giving up the security of my attention was terrifying.

On the other hand, it was a public movie theater. And so far, Charlie had given me no reason to doubt his word. How brazen would he have to be to finally try something there, where he'd inevitably get caught? Alice knew to scream if anybody touched her private areas without her permission. I'd told Charlie that. Really, the smart thing for him to do would be nothing, to keep building trust. Besides, if he WAS going to break my trust and do something like molest her the first chance he got her alone, I told myself, it was probably best for it to happen there. He could get arrested, I could look mostly innocent and uninvolved, and yes, it would probably be traumatizing for Alice, but she could get over it, probably repress it.

And it was her birthday. So I said yes. The very next weekend after her party, during the day at a crowded theater (I made sure of that) they went to see a movie that frankly I was dreading having to take her to (I did eventually have to see it because Alice wanted to see it again... kids).

Nothing happened, of course. At least, nothing I ever found out about. Although when I took Alice to the same movie later, my mind did wander to thoughts of Charlie molesting her, maybe making her suck his cock or even doing more... not because the thought appealed to me, of course. I mean, on one level, yes, and I did masturbate later, but mostly, it was motherly suspicion on overdrive, because why else would Alice want to see that terrible movie again? How else could she be just as enthralled on a second viewing, unless it was explained by a perverted 'uncle' taking her on a first viewing and doing something that absorbed all of her attention? But the problem with that explanation was that I'd seen the same type of behavior, that same rapt attention, on other horrible movies I'd watched with my daughter multiple times. According to the best evidence I had, Charlie was, as always, the perfect gentleman with my daughter.

I did start to worry though, especially when my daughter announced that she was going to marry Uncle Charlie one day. I guess that's not uncommon a declaration for kids that age, who don't know any better, but most kids that age don't actually have an adult in their lives with a detailed timeline for impregnating them. Still five years away, but I was already feeding her his cum and most kids her age don't have a mother doing that either, I assume.

I could feel myself losing the battle for my daughter by inches, and more, feel myself starting to want to lose, not just to milk victory for all the enjoyment I could before I turned Charlie out on his ass and started instructing Alice on how to protect herself from predators. That was still the plan, but it was a plan I, more and more, wanted to change, maybe even give up on.

So I panicked. Not in a running-down-the-street screaming sense, not even in a straight line of raising tension until I finally broke, it was bouts of complete anxiety interspersed with acceptance. I let Uncle Charlie take Alice to more movies or other fun events without me (always where she'd be supervised, except sometimes in the car ride) nervously waited out each one without intervening, and quizzed her thoroughly after. Not immediately after, sometimes with a pause in which we prepared another of Uncle Charlie's special milkshakes, followed by a third degree about what they did after Charlie left. One time, I fucked Charlie and then broke down in sobs and told him about Alice saying she was going to marry him and called him a son-of-a-bitch pedophile brainwashing her.

That time, he soothed me in the weirdest way. "Hey, she didn't get that idea from me. I'm not going to marry your daughter, Haley, Christ..." he said. "I'm not really a marrying type, and that would take too long. I just want to enjoy making some babies with her. I'll have a talk with her if you want."

I couldn't imagine that talk with Alice. "You know I love you kid, but you gotta stop talking about getting married to me, you're too young to even think about getting married. But in five years, you will be the mother of my children. I will cum inside your little pussy instead of your milkshakes, get you addicted to feeling my cock instead of the taste, and in time you'll make all the screams and moans of pleasure you hear your mommy making, but you'll just be a very happy little underage fucktoy for your Uncle Charlie, with no marriage, you got it?"

So I had the talk with my daughter instead. No, not those words, just that she couldn't get married to her Uncle Charlie, that he was too old for her and she would eventually find a boy her own age to marry. She accepted it, but that didn't make me feel much better.

Finally, the anxiety grew too much for me, and I broke and told Phil.

Not the whole story, mind you. Not about the countdown. Certainly not about the cum-infused milkshakes. Just that I was fucking Charlie. One sleepless night it was the only solution I could find, blow up my whole life and force me to get out of this twisted relationship with Charlie, one way or the other. Getting caught had been my secret ace-in-the-hole all along to protect me from myself, only more and more it seemed like my husband was the most oblivious man on Earth and so that that card might never come into play unless I put it on the table myself.

In bed one night, I elbowed my snoring husband until he jolted awake, and as he was still foggy eyed and reaching for the light, I just blurted it out. "I'm fucking Charlie."

I wasn't prepared for his response. "Yeah, what else is new?" He turned the light off again, tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

Of course, I shoved him until he was awake. "You know?!"

He sighed, hit the light one more time and got his glasses, then turned back to me, giving me one of those 'do we really have to do this now?' looks. "Of course. I'm not an idiot." News to me. "Why do you think I keep working late?"

I'd almost say it rocked my world more than anything, but Charlie had already done that in so many ways, starting with his assertion that he'd be impregnating my daughter in ten years. Five years, at this point. "You're okay with this?!"

"Haley, I love you, but we've settled into a comfortable arrangement where sex isn't a big part of our relationship. Most marriages reach that point. There's nothing wrong with that. We get along and our job right now is to raise our daughter. But there's no reason to deprive ourselves, either. So if you want to have fun, I'm happy for you, as long as you're reasonably discreet. And I'll keep doing the same with the women I meet at work. Honestly, I thought this was just understood."

You can call me a lot of things, but a hypocritical bitch... is probably one of them. I was incensed that my husband had just admitted to having affairs behind my back, despite the fact that I'd just confessed to a large one. In time, I'd come around, see his point of view, particularly since his affairs were never rubbed in my face like I'd done with mine in his, but my gut reaction was fury at his betrayal. Cold fury, mind you... I've never been a violent person. But vindictive, sometimes, and I expressed this vindictiveness by deciding not to tell him about Charlie's designs on our daughter. I'd done so once, and he dismissed them, if he wanted to ignore the danger because he was happy to have guilt-free affairs with floozies... well, maybe he'd wind up with a pregnant preteen daughter before he knew it. No, I wasn't ready to give in, but I could get aroused viciously thinking of my husband's outrage when he discovered that his good buddy had taken his little girl's cherry. Which was unfair to Alice, but this wasn't a plan, just a revenge fantasy.

Either way, that admission should have brought us closer, but it wound up making me more isolated. Now that Charlie wasn't a secret, Phil was no longer my escape hatch. It wasn't only vindictiveness, I couldn't confess Charlie's interest without admitting my own sins... unless I wanted to lie, maybe, but it was a lie that could easily come undone.

"Fine," I said to him, ice in my voice. "I'll just keep fucking him then."

"Sounds good," the bastard said, and turned off the lights. "If you ever want him to spend the night, just give me some warning. We can work something out, I can always find someone... or hell, I'll even spend a night on the couch once in a while. But don't call him tonight, I've got work tomorrow and I really need some sleep."

He seemed to sleep pretty soundly. I didn't, stayed awake staring at the ceiling until dawn, another reason I was pissed at him, but it was the kind of pissed where you also admire the person a little. That was my husband, the boring, straight-laced dependable guy who was apparently totally fine with me taking a lover and even enjoying him in his bed. By the time he got up for work, I was just low-level hostile at him, the kind where I 'accidentally' flush the toilet while he's taking a shower but also thinking more about the new possibilities opened up, both to Alice's benefit and detriment.

After all, my husband knowing about the affair meant I no longer had to worry about making excuses. Over the past few years, I'd taken Alice along on excursions I know I shouldn't have, just because there wasn't really a way I could explain being away, or being alone with Charlie, other than something that involved her. So I dragged her along with a promise of a milkshake or a trip to McDonald's if she played along that she had a school play or something, but really we went to Charlie's house, or sometimes the park, and had some risky sex where Alice could probably tell what we were doing, even if she wasn't actually watching. Especially in the most recent years. Now, I could just say, "I'm going out to see Charlie, you watch Alice for a few hours." If Phil was home at the time, anyway. We could go to a bar, or a sex club, which we had a few times--without my daughter. Hell, we could probably go off on a beach vacation.

Or, we could just fuck at home, whether Alice was there or not, whether Phil might be at work or not. I'd said before that the thrill of cheating wasn't what our relationship was about... but it sure added a spice. And being deprived of it suddenly... well, you might not think salt is that important to you, but when you suddenly have to cut back, I bet you're going to be doubling up on others kind of spice to make up for it.

Alice, she was always the biggest part of the spice of my affair. And I needed a new escape hatch. If my husband was cool with my having an affair, maybe he'd put his foot down if he learned his daughter got to see it. Well, she'd already seen plenty, but always accidentally, or at least I was trying to hide it.

Charlie had often asked that we leave the bedroom doors completely open when we fucked. If Alice ever blabbed, he'd have shot himself in the foot. It now seemed to me that was the best thing I could do, to help him screw up what he'd been working for.

I didn't do it right away, or all the time, but over the next few months I was more and more careless with the door. It took a while for Alice to see anything, probably because I'd trained her to either stay in her room or be a lot more discreet in snooping, for fear of losing milkshake privileges. But she also wasn't promised a milkshake every time Charlie came over, and on a few of those occasions I noticed a shadow on the wall outside the door, trying not to be seen while getting an eyeful of her own.

I always let her and let her think she'd been far sneakier than she was, half praying for her to tell her father and at least make him institute a 'not in the house' rule, half praying for her to keep her mouth shut. At least one of those prayers was answered, which is a good thing about wanting contradictory things.
Alice's voyeuristic adventures were not constant. She wasn't watching and masturbating or anything lewd like that, she was too young for that, mostly it was just peeking in and then after a while getting bored and going back to her room.
One day I caught her in a way that wasn't easy to deny. Usually I made a point to not be looking at the door, especially if I knew she was there. But sometimes I looked when I didn't know that, just to check if she'd started... like I said, knowing my underage daughter was watching added a certain spice. And one day, I was riding Charlie's cock, in my ass, rubbing my pussy to help me get closer to orgasm, imagining my daughter watching, but I didn't think she actually was. I wasn't even facing the door.

But there was a mirror, angled so I could look in that direction. Except, this time when I looked, there was my eight-year-old daughter, not her shadow, creeping carefully into the room. Our eyes locked, in the mirror. There was no hiding that either of us saw the other.

She looked as guilty as I did, in the instant before she rabbited out of the room, and that was probably why... I'd caught her in the act, not of peeking, but of creeping into the room to get a really close look at what was going on. I couldn't yell at her to get out, because of the gag, and I couldn't even tell Charlie to stop. I mean, I could, but safety signals are sacred and I didn't want to devalue ours by using it just because I was ashamed at what my daughter had seen and needed to have a talk with her. And that was only half-true, anyway. So I just finished up, or waited until Charlie did anyway... but I was pretty finished by then anyway.

After that it was time to take the gag off and have another talk with my daughter. That was the half that was true. Not the first inappropriate conversation I'd had with her and it certainly wasn't going to be the last, but it was memorable.

I'd already explained to her about cumshots, and adult games that required adults to be naked and on top of each other, all of which she'd accepted, and which required a little explanation about orgasms, but in a very generic sense. 'It feels really good, for adults. For us it's better than ice cream.' But the mechanics were still something of a mystery to her... the mechanics of sex, anyway. She knew guys had a thing that got hard and eventually squirted out milkshake ingredients (at least, I had to assume she put that much together, although we'd never directly talked about that). But that part of what felt good including sticking that hard thing in your ass, or pussy, or mouth, that wasn't part of the previous explanations, and I don't think she ever got THAT close a look in those days, except maybe the mouth work. I feel like her impression was that it was just bouncing up and down, which, at her age, was itself enough to make something fun.
Her recent spying probably exposed her to more, and this time there was no denying she saw my asshole stretched and full of cock. So I tried to explain it at a level she could understand, told her that when people grow up their holes grow stretchier, and it feels good for women to get them stretched, and that for men it feels good to stretch them out, and that both felt good with rubbing and nakedness, and finally that Uncle Charlie and I liked to help each other out that way because our parts fit together really well.

That seemed simple enough for an eight-year-old, but she was interested in one thing in particular. "Is that why you keep a ball in your mouth? Because it feels good?"

Well, simplifying is one thing, but I didn't want to lie, and this required a nuanced answer. "Sometimes," I said. It was more about the degradation of it than the feel, which frankly gave me a sore jaw afterwards and I would happy to do without, so I added, "But mostly I wear it because Mommy can be loud when she's getting stretched, and this is a very private thing, so I don't want people to know when and how often I do it. Besides, the noises can sometimes sound frightening." The gag didn't perfectly muffle the sounds I made, but they helped, and almost more importantly, they made me much more conscious of them and able to tamp down.

"I won't be frightened," she said.

"But it's still private." And she pouted, so I relented some. "But since you've already seen everything, I'll make you a deal. I won't wear the gag anymore if it's just us in the house. That way you'll know not to come in and interrupt." Again, after a moment of brightness at the first part, she didn't seem entirely happy with that, but I wasn't done yet. "Or if you're curious, you can watch, since you're probably going to be nosey anyway. I said watch, not interrupt, you have to be silent as a mouse... I can extend my privacy that far, if you'll help to keep it. But if I hear you told anybody about anything that Uncle Charlie and I do, then it ends, no second chances, locked doors from now on, and no more milkshakes either. So..." And I made the zipped-lips-locked-key motion again, which she copied immediately after promising.

A promise from an excited eight-year-old cannot be relied on, but it was comforting to have anyway particularly when you're doing shit that might get you thrown in jail or your kid taken away. It wasn't my best parenting moment, but it was better than any alternatives I could see, like happened far too often. It was a weird slippery slope that letting things get a little worse always seemed like the best choice left. Because this compromise sure seemed a lot better than risking Alice telling everyone at school what she'd seen.

So what if my daughter wanted to watch me have sex, now and then? Maybe she'd get so bored of it that it would lose any allure, and Charlie would have a harder time talking her into it. So was my hope, anyway.

I got a promise from Charlie, too, to cut out any of the dirty talk involving Alice if she was in earshot... though the promise did leave me with a lingering suspicion that she'd already heard some of the things he'd said about her... I may have been gagged, but Charlie never was, and although he didn't bring the topic up every time we were together I couldn't dredge back through my memories and be certain that the times he had and the times Alice spied didn't overlap, particularly when I didn't know all of the latter.

I have to say though, any of the spice that I'd lost when I realized my husband knew and approved of my affair was made up in spades by allowing my daughter to watching it. Not every time, but now and then, and always quietly, like a mouse. Sometimes it was just peeking in when I got loud, sometimes she stayed by our sides the whole time, from the moment we got undressed to when Charlie's spent cock pulled out of me (but with a video game on her tablet because apparently as interesting as watching your mom get fucked by a stud was, it still had its boring moments). Our deal also allowed us to have the fun of doing it outside of the bedroom more... after all, if she was probably going to watch anyway, why not do it on the couch? Or in the kitchen? Once, even in her room. Not the first time we'd done it on her bed, but the first time she was home and we'd gotten her permission first, instead of hiding we'd done it after. Yes, if I'm not hiding my affair from my husband, acting like I didn't have to hide it at all was the next logical step. Flaunting it--to one person who absolutely should not have seen--made cheating sex exciting again, gave the whole ritual some variety, and you know what they say about variety and spice. Not to mention the ability to get vocal again, which I'd missed... moaning in pleasure was a good way to draw my daughter out of hiding to watch.

Among the other things my daughter got to watch start-to-finish, along with oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex in loads of different positions, was how we made her special milkshakes. The 'you must stay in your room to get a milkshake' rule didn't make much sense to enforce now, and she didn't seem at all surprised by the process. She was a little surprised by the offer, but when she walked in on me naked on the kitchen title, Charlie's cock in my mouth, I realized that she had been pretty good for a while and I hadn't made her one, so I asked her if she wanted one. Her eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly, so I asked her to get the ice cream, then got up, got the blender, and before her eyes sucked and milked Charlie until he squirted a load that Alice knew by now could easily have gone inside me, but was going to go inside her, instead. Put in the ice cream and milk, blended it up, and gave it to her.

No hesitation, it was still a treat she enjoyed, and if confirming her suspicions made her any less eager to try it, it didn't show. She still asked for them now and then, maybe a little less, but I think that was maturity rather than disgust, she realized that she was taking something, a limited resource, from me and was grateful that I shared at all. Or maybe I was projecting.

She did ask for a cumshot to the face though, without any prompting from me--or from Charlie, I think. If I knew he had prompted it, it never would have happened.

Thus far, as far as I could tell, he'd kept his word and hadn't done anything to her without getting my okay first. And that was mostly things like a hug or a kiss on the cheek while he was fully clothed. Alice started to ask for more things too because of this... she was a big hugger, and more than a few times she found she had to ask me if it was okay if Uncle Charlie gave her a hug or a kiss goodbye when he went back to his own place. Of course I always said yes, and eventually told him hugging was just okay in general when clothed, if she initiated, half-preparing myself for a day when a hug would include a lewd grope on her ass or a kiss might include tongue, but so far they didn't. What she'd seen might be unforgivable, but in terms of physical contact, everything was perfectly innocent.

Or almost, anyway. There was one questionable progression in that area, but then, that was my fault. I was in the kitchen getting a snack, when I heard from upstairs, "Mom, can you tell Uncle Charlie it's okay if i sit on his lap while he reads to me?" She liked getting him to read to her when we weren't busy fucking. I wasn't thinking, and I just said, "It's okay if she sits on your lap."

When I came upstairs I saw my eight-year-old daughter sitting on his lap all right... she'd neglected to mention that he was still naked at the time. Alice herself was just in a t-shirt and underwear.

I was enraged, for a moment, but they were just reading, and it could have gone a lot worse. After all, it was my own fault for assuming he'd have dressed--when I left him he certainly wasn't--and when Alice asked, she never specified. Considering I still thought Charlie was serious about impregnating my daughter in five years (closer to four, but not yet officially March 15th), he could easily have taken the advantage to kick the grooming he probably needed to do into high gear. Even with my permission only to sit on his lap, one could interpret that as "you said it was okay, which means it's okay even if both of us were naked and, well, a hard cock's got to go somewhere while she's sitting." Or even if not naked but just her underwear slid to the side. Or her sitting on his lap while he buried his fingers in her panties and gave her a little massage. And I might have been angry but, picturing those images in my head, particularly the one of him sliding my daughter up and down on his lap... as long as she wasn't in obvious discomfort, I probably would have conceded that that any of that did count as a form of lap-sitting and that I should have been more careful before granting my permission.
In these hypothetical situations I was sure I'd withdraw the permission for future encounters... our agreement technically may not have allowed me to withdraw a permission granted once, but as long as he simply took advantage of the one-time lapse--for as long as that lap-sitting session happened to last--and didn't try to repeat it without securing my permission again, I wouldn't have held it against Charlie.

Considering that magnanimous position went through my head while imagining what was essentially a slow anal rape (perhaps only statutory, but still rape, and it would have to be anal to qualify as sitting, I imagined, and her tiny pussy probably would have painfully tore it he went for that), it seemed pretty silly to get worked up over something that was, while still inappropriate, certainly far less than all that. My daughter had underwear on, and a shirt, he wasn't touching anything but her shoulder, and he wasn't even hard. Well, not fully hard, but regardless, out of the way. Alice's feet touched his penis now and then but that was it, and certainly while I watched Charlie wasn't going to allow any more.

Still, it was another step toward Charlie ending his countdown in a victory, another step that seemed meaningless at the time but I'd allowed a lot of meaningless victories and hadn't made much progress in learning to resist Charlie. So I should have been furious, or maybe terrified. Instead I was just worried whether this meant that Charlie felt he no longer had to ask if my daughter could sit on his lap while he was naked, just like he no longer had to ask to let her hug him while they both were clothed. And what was I going to do, tell my daughter she couldn't sit on her Uncle's lap? Couldn't give him a hug?

I did remind her that she wasn't allowed to touch his private areas, or him hers, and that she was not allowed to even get close to either if both of them were naked. In fact, she wasn't to be naked at all when he was in the house, something she'd tried before a few times, to play off as casual, and I needed to put a stop to that. That, surprisingly, got pushback. The two of us were naked all the time, she complained, why couldn't she?

Well, firstly, because it wasn't true. We weren't naked all the time. Just during sex, and after, which sure, meant pretty often with the two of us, but I did put on clothes when it was clear we weren't going for another round for a while and I thought my daughter had satisfied all her curiosity about what it looked like while things were dripping and I could clean up. Charlie, well, he was naked a bit more than that. I accused him once of trying to normalize the sight of his naked body for my daughter, and he admitted that was a benefit but that he liked walking around naked. He said he did so at home when he was alone and that it should be normalized for the both of us, and for Alice too.

I snorted at that. Fat chance of that happening. Well, chance got fatter as the countdown shrank, but at the time I didn't think I was going to give in on that one anytime soon.

I did put my foot down at the time, both with Charlie and my daughter, and so while it wasn't the last time she saw either of us naked, my daughter stayed clothed right until the first time I jacked off her Uncle Charlie in her face.

That happened as the countdown reached Four, but wasn't because of it. Or it was, but in a 'two birds with one stone' sort of way. See, I'm not a totally neglectful mother, and in one way my affair with Charlie, right in my daughter's face, turned out to be a good thing, when I realized that it wasn't curiosity that led my daughter to be taking closer and closer looks as Charlie fucked me. Or at least, not just curiosity. For a while I thought it was, that she wanted to get close enough to smell sex, not just see it, maybe even to taste... or at least push the boundaries as far as she could before I inevitably had to put on the Mom role. But then I started putting things together and took my daughter for a pediatrician appointment and we discovered she was inheriting my nearsightedness. Like me, she'd been good at faking it in school, and even previous routine eye tests--remembering the order of letters on the chart, probably without realizing she was doing it--but the time had come where she had to get glasses.

And sometimes kids get depressed at that. Not glasses specifically, but at any sudden, mandated change to their appearance that's thrust upon them. I knew glasses would help her and in time she'd be grateful for them. Maybe she'd prefer to have perfect eyesight without them, and when she grew up maybe that would be an option, but until then, I knew her being able to see better would improve her life. I also knew that for someone who was just starting to define their own preferences with regard to how they look (which was tights over dresses, bright colors over darks, and long hair over short), suddenly saying, "Here! Now you've got something that will be stuck on your face that you can't control" was pretty disheartening. Same thing can happen with braces. I tried to cheer her up on the ride home, pointing out all sorts of attractive celebrities who wore glasses, and of course, myself. Getting glasses made us look more alike, which I was happy about and hoped she was still young enough to care about. It did seem to brighten her mood, but what really perked her up was when I said, "In fact, having glasses can be a lot of fun."

Now what I meant was things like being able to change your whole appearance in a moment. The classic sexy librarian move, where she pulls off her glasses and shakes her hair out is a classic for a reason, and even though the 'sexy' part of that might be too adult for a girl Alice's age, there were more innocent applications. Playing Supergirl--flipping between her powered identity and Kara Danvers--was more what I had in mind.
Maybe I'd used the word 'fun' in connection to what me and Charlie do in the bedroom too many times though, because what was on her mind was something totally different. "Does this mean I can take squirts in the face from Uncle Charlie now like you like?"

Good thing Phil worked so it was just me and her in the car. Doubly good that she didn't come up with this in the doctor's office. Still, I almost ran a red light hearing that, looking back in the mirror to see her previously glum face suddenly look excited at that prospect. I told her I'd think about it, which by this time my daughter assumed meant yes, so I tried to temper expectations, warning her that it probably wasn't going to be as fun as she thought, she was still too young to really enjoy it. When she asked why, I think I might have invented 'cum pores' that women get when they're older that make it feel good when you take a load of cum to the face. I was trying to make an analogy to what I'd always told her about taste buds developing, which was why certain foods that tasted bad to kids wouldn't always, and I was a little flustered and not entirely sure what I was saying. Hopefully she didn't spread that misconception around.

I was hoping she'd forget my not-actually-a-promise, but it soon became clear she wouldn't and I realized that we were awful close to March 15th, so... why not use it for my own private tradition? I told Alice not to say anything to Charlie, that I'd have to talk to him and convince him. As if I needed to convince, but, I hoped it would be a trap of sorts. Sure, he might get to cum all over my daughter's face, but at her age it certainly wasn't going to make her want more. Most likely, it'd just convince her that adults sometimes had strange tastes, or that Mommy was really weird.

Both of which are probably true, but I'd forgotten kids and their tastes can be pretty weird too. There's this song Alice sometimes played, sounds like a rabbit having a seizure set to music, it was some meme thing she found on YouTube. I couldn't even understand the appeal for anybody, but she would play it and laugh repeatedly until I wanted to slam my head against the wall or just turn her over to Charlie and say, "Do whatever you want to her, turn her into your own personal sex slave just keep her from playing that song ever again!" I mean not really, but thinking it helped me stay sane.

Thinking about jacking off Charlie in her little face, getting her new glasses glazed up with cum... well, I'm not sure sane is the word, but it did help keep me occupied, since it was one of those weeks where Charlie had to go away for a few days and Phil was usually too busy with his own extra-curricular activities to help out in a pinch so I had to take care of my own needs. More and more my submissive side wasn't fantasizing about stuff a lover might make me do to degrade me, but around him doing stuff to Alice. Probably not a good sign, but, just fantasy, except for this one-time exception. And all the other exceptions.

Finally Charlie came by. While Alice was at school, so I could enjoy him first on countdown day. Which it was actually a couple days past, since he was gone for the actual day. I was a little scared he'd forgotten, and that I'd have to remind him which seemed... weak, somehow. But regardless of the actual day, the real countdown day, the real celebration, for me, was always the moment I first heard the new number that confirmed his goal for my daughter was still foremost in his mind and I was almost an afterthought, a useful means to an end. It sounds strange, but that can also be incredibly exciting, that you fundamentally don't mean anything to someone other than being useful. Deep down, sometimes that's how I thought Charlie saw me. Maybe he had some feelings, but... he'd never mentioned, much less celebrated, the first day we had sex. Yet he still always had his eye on the eventual day he'd knock up my daughter.

Until then, I could enjoy the best of both worlds, act like I was the one foremost in his mind, and he treated me like a lover he couldn't get enough of. Whether he was living his fantasy of my daughter through me, the reverse (only wanting to impregnate her because he couldn't me), or even if he was just cynically aware that the only way he got his perverted goal was by keeping me satisfied, the moment I let him through the front door he pushed me up against the wall, thrust his hips at me like he could fuck me through our clothes. As though all the time he was away he was missing me.

But it wasn't all-out sex, just a little making out, and calmed down after that initial burst of activity... maybe he wanted to save it for when Alice could watch, or maybe we just needed an additional spark, so we sat on the couch, my legs over his lap, shirt undone, and exchanged pleasantries, the "how was your day" type thing that really I should have saved just for Phil but Charlie and I had drifted into after a few years, especially since it could lead to talking about Alice and talking about Alice could be the spark we needed to launch into an unrestrained fuckfest. He was evasive about his trip when I asked, as he always was since I'd started to notice. Usually he just gave a rote reply of "Just had some business to take care of," or "It went okay." Sometimes "went better than I thought" or "didn't go so well," and corresponding shifts of mood, but those were rare. I was curious about it, but didn't think our relationship was one where I should pry, which is silly since he was using our relationship to slowly pry my daughter's legs apart.

I wondered if maybe he had another mother, another little girl he was working on, long term, maybe a string of them all at different stages. It would account for his confidence of success, if this was a time-tested technique, but the thought, as appealing as it could be when I was at particular stages of horniness, wasn't really as satisfying as the notion that this was his only try at child impregnation.

In any event, once I realized I was getting everything I was likely to get about his trip (without prying), I moved the conversation to Alice. "Alice is at school right now, so if you want to get really filthy, now's the time." Because yes, I did allow my daughter to watch us, but only for the relatively vanilla stuff, oral, anal, vaginal, cumshots... anything kinkier than that I still tried to keep to when she wasn't watching. And I also tried my best to restrain myself even for the vanilla stuff, not shouting out every filthy thing that came to mind (particularly when it involved her), and trying to limit the swears (of course, if I was much good at that while getting close to an orgasm, I'd have never needed the gag in the first place).

"How's she doing, anyway?" Charlie asked. "With her glasses and all?"

In some ways it was a caring question, because he'd heard about my daughter's concerns, talked to her on the phone about them, tried to tell her that lots of men liked girls more with glasses. Maybe he really wanted to know how she was. But him asking anything about her was one of the in-roads to the ritual, the one I hoped would end in the countdown, the 'surprise' revelation that it was no longer Year Five, but Year Four. If he remembered. "As if you care," I said, doing my part and holding my breath as I playfully kicked him.

"Of course I care," he said. "In four years, she's going to be the mother of my children, after all."

Yes, four years, still on track for when my daughter was twelve and about a half. I tried to picture her at that age, starting to get taller and gangly (though she already seemed to be legs and arms), her hips starting to widen to bear that first child, her belly swollen obscenely, belly button popped out like a turkey timer on Thanksgiving. Probably another bad sign that when I pictured my daughter at twelve, I was picturing her pregnant. But it was just picturing.

I pushed myself up to a more seated position, started crawling over Charlie's body, first to grab his shirt, pull him right close to me like I was pissed at him. "You're sick," I said. "I can't believe you're still keeping track." I would have been more pissed if he'd forgotten to lower the countdown. "I don't know why I put up with such a perverted freak, I should throw you out on your ass and call the police."

He didn't look worried that I might, his face just made a cute "I don't know, I guess I'm just adorable" expression like a teenager or maybe an intelligent puppy.

And I could feel his dick get hard and ready to give me the fucking I needed. But it might still get harder, the fucking might get more intense. So I said, "Well, you made it to four. Don't expect to make it to three." I said similar things at previous years, with different numbers. But this time, I had a little extra. "You want to cover Alice's face with cum in a couple days, to celebrate?"

Yup, that got a pleasing lurch, and he grabbed me by the arms and twirled me on the couch, so I was beneath him, and then held me down, spanked my ass and called me a disgusting whore. But you know, in a loving way, and it came with a hard cock shoved inside me, and him holding me down like I was a little girl being raped by her favorite uncle. I never had an uncle but I figured he had to be a favorite to get away with that without me telling... or maybe he'd just have to make me cum.

That, I realized might be the big danger, the point of no return. What Alice saw, how much cum she drank, what kinks she thought might be fun to try out... all of that was bad, but it didn't have to be catastrophic. I could put my foot down at any time, and I had faith my daughter would obey me. At least until she was a teenager, but by then she'd probably be too busy fooling around with boys her own age to want to seek out Charlie's particular brutish lovemaking style. On the other hand, if I ever let Charlie make my daughter cum, then I didn't think I could stop him from taking whatever he wanted... or from her giving it. If Alice was anything like me, she'd probably fall right into being his little cumslut. Just like I broke my marital vows, risked my own child's innocence, because of the intense pleasure Charlie gave me, my daughter might decide that listening to Mom was overrated, because Mom didn't give her orgasms.

I was still feeling ambivalent about letting him cum all over her face before that... not enough to not make the offer (again, the lure of a good orgasm when I really needed one), but worried that it was a step too far. But just after my second orgasm ripped through me and Charlie pulled out after one of his own, I thought, yes, I'm still totally in control of this situation.

He gave us a minute or two to catch our breaths, came back with a beer and I came back to a more-or-less seated position, and he asked, "So, you want me to cum on Alice's face then?"

"She wants it," I explained. "One of the only thing about her glasses she's looking forward to." A smile crossed my face at the absurdity of it all, but then I snapped back to duty. "You don't touch her, she doesn't touch you, and just a one-time thing, to take the sting out of it."

"Yeah? A one-time thing?" he asked, a little smirk on his face, probably because I'd said the same thing about the cum milkshakes and now my daughter has one on average once every week. Since we started about a year ago she'd taken more than fifty cum loads down her throat.

So I was realistic that it might not be a one-time thing, but I certainly couldn't admit that. And this, I thought, was different, no sugar, no ice cream, just nasty cum on my daughter's face, an experience to satisfy her curiosity. "A one-time thing." Or at most, a once-in-a-rare-while thing. I'd told her it was an 'adults eventually like it' type thing, so she might want to try again in a few months or years to see if she'd grown up enough for her 'cum pores' to open. A little white lie that could wind up helping Charlie.

"So when do you want to do this? Today when she gets home from school?"

"I mean, if you want. But since this is going to be your only shot at it, you might want to wait a little and build up a really good load for her." Charlie was a prodigious cummer but his best efforts today were already inside of me, except for the bits leaking out and staining the couch.

So we agreed on two days, which gave me two days of 'best behavior' from my daughter (since, obviously, I told her that the whole thing was off if she wasn't good). Two days of having to be satisfied with Charlie's fingers since he didn't want to waste another load, but his fingers were only a disappointment by comparison... he knew how to use them. In fact it was probably a good thing that 'best behavior' for Alice included her not spying on us because seeing her mother cum on her uncle's fingers might give her ideas. I was counting on his cock being too big to comfortably fit inside her to discourage any experimentation (and warned her that it would be painful at her size), but she might think fingers were small enough to be worth trying.

Finally the day came. We did it on a Saturday because Phil was out of the house playing golf (now I had to wonder every time if his hours-long efforts to sink something in a hole was an excuse for hunting for affairs, but I was trying not to begrudge him that while I had Charlie over).

I made sure Alice had any homework she needed to already done, something she usually waited for on weekends (Charlie helped, though, on Friday afternoon), and all her chores as well, or it wouldn't happen. And I played with Charlie's cock some, got a few strokes inside me just to warm him up (and, okay, a little fun for Mommy too, even if his load was destined for Alice). So I called Alice down, "Alice, do you want to come and show your Uncle Charlie your new glasses?" Which was ridiculous, because he'd already seen them, several times over the last few days. But it was a signal, I'd arranged with my daughter, letting her know when it was the time all her good behavior had been leading up to, time for her to get her first facial.

Little slut almost screwed the whole thing up by coming down buck naked, except for the glasses of course.

I mean, I guess it's understandable, since I was usually naked when Charlie came all over my glasses and face. But still... Charlie had never seen my daughter naked (unless he'd taken some liberties while alone with her), and I intended to keep it that way right up until I told him never to come around me or my daughter again, which I still planned.

Kids often screw up your best plans, and little Alice walked into the kitchen without a stitch of clothing on her, confidently almost like a model, if models got to be eight-years-old and only advertising hairlessness below the neck as a fashion statement. Didn't even cover her private parts with her hands, making them not very private at all.

She had to see Charlie's cock grow at the sight. I, holding it in my hands, certainly felt it, but dropped the dong and stood up between my lover and my daughter and said, "Out. This isn't happening."

"But Mom!"

"Nobody said you could show off your private parts." I had intended that this was going to be a very dignified jacking-off-of-a-large-cock-right-in-the-face-of-my-daughter. There really should be a better shorthand word for that but I guess it doesn't happen often enough for one to exist. I'm going to call it a spoogelestation, because it's not quite a molestation but it's in that area. It almost never happened at all, though, and thus didn't need a word. Naming it should give you a clue that I eventually relented.

"But Mom!" she said again, allowing me to usher her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs that led to her room. "This is how you do it!"

I'm not completely unsympathetic, of course, but I had to show a strong front, and make it an object lesson. So I marched her to her room while she cried, "You promised."

"I promised if you were on your best behavior, and I've also told you many times you were not to go naked in front of your Uncle, no matter how many times I do it." And I waited for the sad, repentant look that told me she understood she screwed up, even if she didn't mean to break the rules, even if it came from an innocent place, probably, and then I said, "Now, I can understand your mistake, since Mommy is usually naked, so we can try it again if you're willing to follow the rules."

She brightened instantly at that. "But won't it get my clothes messy?"

So we compromised. Or, I guess, I made a concession, since I don't think Alice really cared if her clothes got messy. She wasn't the one who did the laundry, after all... no, that's always Mom's duty. And she had no idea how cum stains can be a pain to work with. We could have been careful, me making sure to aim it right at her face and lean forward so any spill went on the floor, but cum's inherently messy, so I didn't think her idea was really that far out of step.

We compromised, and I led her back down the stairs in just cute panties and socks. Toplessness, that wasn't that big a deal... she didn't even have breasts. Might as well have been a boy, so who cares if Charlie saw her nipples? He almost certainly already had, at least flashes of it, just from a top that was too loose, when my daughter lay on her stomach or bent over. And underwear might as well just be a swimsuit. The socks were because I knew Charlie did have a bit of a thing for feet and this was already tempting fate enough.

He seemed about as uncertain about whether the spoogelestation was still on or not as Alice had been, looking up the stairs as nervous as a teen waiting for his date on prom night. Or an adult waiting for his teen date on prom night. Or a naked adult waiting for an eight-year-old girl who's mother may or may not be about to jack him off in her face. They're all very similar looks, I think, except the ages and level of nudity involved.

Seeing our compromise, Charlie looked more like a naked adult waiting for an eight-year-old girl he's allowed to fuck. That wasn't the case though, so I lead them back to the kitchen (tiles, I don't want to have to clean more than I have to), and had my daughter kneel in front of Charlie. He complimented her on her cute panties (they were blue with a yellow and red flower over the crotch), and her glasses. In those days, by the way, Alice didn't wear the black-and-tortoiseshell round glasses that fit with the looks she's into these days, they were these square frames, made of clear acetate (with just a hint of rose shading), with the temples--that's the side parts, that goes over the ear--an opaque pink with swirls of purple. We spent forever picking them out and I spent more money than I had to just to make sure it was a pair she liked.

And now I was about to cover them in cum in an act of spoogelestation where I jacked off my lover in her little eight-year-old face. My daughter watched the operation with rapt attention, much more intense than when she'd seen me do it for myself, or to help make a milkshake for her. She always did like the moment of ejaculation most, I think, when she could see it, and I guess for a kid that probably would be the most exciting part, it's like a little flesh volcano. And because you never know exactly when it's going to erupt. Her eyes were wide open, afraid she was going to miss the big moment with a blink, but it's not like it's one moment, and I was taking my time, stroking Charlie slowly at first, gradually picking up speed.

Soon I started to think I was taking too long, when I noticed that she wasn't just staring at the cock, she was frequently looking up into Charlie's eyes, and he was looking in hers, and that could be very powerful. I picked up the pace, trying to get her attention back on the cock, and the solution came to me. "Do you want to try?"

It was breaking another of my rules, but she was all for it and staring right at it again, and she lifted her hand off the floor, hesitantly, like my permission might been withdrawn at any time. I guided it to Charlie's cock, helped her stroke it, get the rhythm going, feel it pulse a few times, and I knew Charlie was almost at that point.

Okay, I let her touch his cock, but I was not going to let her feel it all the way through his ejaculation, that was a little too adult, so I said, "That's enough... it's almost time." She was reluctant to drop her hand, but she did, and I started a firm pump, and Charlie, who'd been practically silent the whole time like he was afraid he'd screw up a good thing by talking, grunted in a way I knew very, very well, and I said, "Here it comes..."

Again, I probably should have expected her to open her mouth and extend her tongue when the cumming started. Monkey see, monkey do, like mother like daughter. And it's not like she hadn't tasted cum before, or like I didn't expect a little to get in her mouth. The first blast went right in her glasses, coating the lenses in a splatter that probably ruined the visual portion of the show for her, though she also made a little pleased chipmunk noise as some of it hit her face around the glasses, as some of it dripped down her face. I don't think she was expecting it to be so warm, since once it's in a milkshake it's very cold. A second blast I aimed lower and off to the side, on her cheek and then, what the hell, aimed the next at her open mouth. Let her get a taste of cum in its natural environment.

I expected her to cough, spit up at the acrid bitterness, but she took it like a champ, no real reaction other than her tongue retreating a bit more back into her mouth and then returning. I interpreted all that as her wanting desperately to prove that she was grown up enough to enjoy it so I squirted another on the back of her tongue, and then spread the remainder around her face.

By the end, my daughter looked practically obscene. God Charlie could cum a lot when he hadn't in a while, if anyone else had seen my daughter they probably would have thought a couple men had covered her face and thought the absolute worst of me since I'd never allow that. One was enough, thankyouverymuch.

I don't know how much she wound up swallowing, she made the motion and closed her mouth like that was her intention but I also saw quite a bit dribbling out of her mouth, bubbling in fact, from her panting breaths after. If she was anything like me, this would put her off the taste for a while, maybe for good.

I guess she's not like me. When I asked, "Now, do you want to make a milkshake?" I honestly expected her to say no, but she nodded happily and smiled. I mean, I guess the sugar and ice cream would help with the taste, if she was struggling. Probably a mistake to offer.

But mistake or not, I follow through, and we scraped what we could off her glasses and face and put it in the blender, and you know, she drank the whole thing. Even if it wasn't what I wanted out of this experience, I was kind of proud of her for that. Perseverance is important.

Now I just had to be prepared for 'can I make my own milkshake?' to be a regular request.

Call it mother's intuition. Alice did ask, the next time I offered a milkshake, if she could help, and I know Charlie would have been happy for the assistance, but I was strong, told her that it wasn't appropriate and occasionally warning that if she made an issue of it the milkshakes might stop altogether.

I still let her watch when I did it though, so, not that strong.

It wasn't that much of a fight, though. I talked to Alice about it after, and she thought the cumshot experience was 'neat,' and she liked touching Charlie's cock, but I guess she didn't get the same enjoyment out of it she thought she would based on seeing me do it (and to be fair, I love it but a lot of my enjoyment is still performative, unless I'm super horny). I guess she assumed her cum pores hadn't opened yet, and without that, probably wasn't sure it was worth the mandated shower and brushing her teeth that immediately followed so her father wouldn't catch on when he got home. Not enough to beg for it and promise good behavior at least. That she asked sometimes to help out was probably more about being like Mommy than in the act itself, which was sweet, and also made it easier to control.

With four years left to go, I knew I couldn't afford much more in the way of 'slips', or I'd be a grandmother, or in jail, or both. So I was strict about it, telling her maybe she could try it again for her ninth birthday. Well, not for her ninth birthday, probably... maybe on the day itself, depending on how scheduling worked out, but certainly not as part of the celebration. Can you imagine, me jacking off my well-hung lover on my daughter's face at her party, right in front of all her friends? I did, more than a couple times. Nothing wrong with a dirty fantasy if you never intend to put it into action. Of course, I knew that I'd said that about multiple previous things I'd put into action, but this was different. For one thing, the other mothers wouldn't stand around and let it happen. Probably. I know a few of them have some pretty kinky fantasies of their own, and most of them aren't the innocent perfect mothers they portray to the world--and, often, their entire families--but I doubted any of them had been brought as deep into perversion as I have.

I knew I had to control my descent. So, no more cumshots, except maybe as a birthday treat. And for a while, I did try to arrange meetings with Charlie so they mostly happened when Alice was out of sight and earshot. The sight of her mother getting fucked might have become familiar to her, and I might not be able to put that genie back in the bottle, but trying to at least limit her opportunity to see wishes fulfilled, if that makes sense.

I thought I was doing pretty good for a while. Then Charlie moved in with us.

You ever get the impression that fate wants you to let your preteen daughter get impregnated by an adult man? I guess probably not. But sometimes it sure seemed that way to me. Every time I thought "surely Alice will tell somebody what's going on, and at least it'll be over," it never did. And sometimes circumstances just seemed to arrange themselves so things would just get worse and worse, or where any progress I made would backslide. Sure, I always had responsibility too, I'm not trying to duck out of that, but sometimes it really felt like fate was against me. Like how I met Charlie that day in the grocery store. Or the times my daughter walked in on us and instead of being disgusted developing a curiosity. Or, when Charlie lost his house and had to move into ours.

Those times Charlie disappeared for a few days? The ones that I never wanted to ask about? Turned out at least some of them were court appearances. Not criminal court, but civil, apparently on a number of fronts, and one of them trying, unsuccessfully, to fight the foreclosure on his home.

I sure can pick 'em, can't I? As if it wasn't bad enough that he wanted to impregnate my daughter before she was a teenager, he's also a deadbeat layabout. I mean I guess I already kind of knew that, but still, when he came to dinner one night and told us that he was probably going to have to move out, maybe out of town entirely to look for work, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, yay, my daughter would be safer. On the other hand, I felt cheated of four more years of good fucking. Maybe just three--I'd probably have to cut it out before the countdown reached zero--but still, that was a lot of good fucking.

Worse, Charlie had sort of spoiled me for other lovers. I mean, not that he was better (though he was still the best, quantity can have a quality all its own), but just... now that Alice felt comfortable watching her mother fucking, I had to expect it would happen with any other guy I wanted to bring over.
But on balance, I thought Charlie losing his house was probably a good thing. The long-awaited escape hatch, Fate intervening to save my daughter. Might even have been enough to start to believe in a higher power.

Except Fate also had a hand in my fucking husband, who, before Charlie left, offered, "You know, you could just move in with us, stay on the couch."

Alice, who'd been glum at the prospect (despite Charlie's promises that he would 'try' to visit when he could) brightened up immediately and said, "Really? Can he?"
"I'd feel bad about imposing," Charlie said, but that didn't exactly ring true to me.

"You wouldn't be," Phil insisted, but I had to intervene and said it was something we'd have to talk about as a family.

My daughter thought it was a done deal already. "What's to talk about? I want it, Dad wants it, and I know you want it too Mom."

Exactly why we had to talk about it, although I meant 'as a couple' more than as a family, and Charlie did retreat to his home (which was his for a few more days) so we could, although we didn't. I deflected every attempt of Alice to bring up the issue, and Phil knew better than to press, at least until we were in bed. "I don't see what the problem is," Phil said, then. "I figured you'd jump at the chance."

"What about Alice?" I asked, feeling like a total hypocrite.

"You heard her, she's all for it. If you mean sex... I trust you to be as discreet as you've always been." I didn't think he'd be so keen if he knew exactly as discreet I'd been before. "He'll sleep on the couch, so she doesn't get confused, of course, unless you think it's a good idea to open up to her about an open marriage."

I already had, pretty much, I just wasn't ready to open up to my husband about exactly how open I'd been with her. I didn't think my husband would approve of how open I'd been, including demonstrating the mechanics of pregnancy by letting her look at a spread open pussy with cum dripping out of it, so she could see deep into the hole where a baby was made. That was recent, I know I'd said I'd been better about doing stuff in front of her but if I was perfect I wouldn't be telling this story.

"Aren't you at all worried he might try to rape our daughter or something?"

He laughed, like it was outside of the realm of possibility. "Do you really think he's that kind of person?" Well, there was a trap, because if I said yes I'd basically be admitting that I was willing to fuck him for years despite that. "Besides, I guess you'll just have to keep him so satisfied that he doesn't think about anything else. I'm sure that won't be difficult."

I wasn't so sure. But he had kept his word so far, and I still felt like I had at least three good years before I had to completely cut him off, so I let it happen. The next week, Charlie moved in with us. Alice was thrilled, her favorite Uncle Charlie now never had to go home. Phil seemed pretty happy too, he always had a buddy around to have a few drinks with after work.

As for me... well, it was much more of a mixed bag. There's a reason that Phil was my husband and Charlie my lover. Someone's a lot more appealing as a sexual partner when you don't have to live with them day in, day out. A real relationship is riding out the good and the bad, and me and Charlie... what we had before was basically only the good parts. It's probably why it lasted so long.

Now that he lived with us, he got on my nerves a lot more. Even things I would have granted him before became irritating. I might have fed Charlie as a special treat before, but now it was part of my job as a housewife to make enough of a dinner for all four of us and it was a lot less charming. And when he just visited, when I thought the affair was secret, I used to make sure if he had a drink or a snack that no trace of it was left. For one thing, he was a guest, then, but also a lover. Cleaning up after a lover is exciting, the knowledge you might get caught if you fail squeezes out some of the drudgery. But a guy who sleeps under your roof by your own generosity, and still leaves plates and glasses around the house, because he can't be bothered to wash something is basically another husband. Which is, in many ways, like having another kid. Now I had three, only one of which I'd birthed (two who dramatically widened my pussy... sorry Phil).

We still had sex... if we hadn't, if he wasn't so damned good at it, I think I'd have thrown him out after two weeks. It was still good, but not as good, and I was leaning on the excitement of what we were doing with my daughter under my husband's nose to keep the spice up.

That isn't to say I slid further into the depths of depravity, closer to surrendering my daughter to him. The kind of stuff we'd already been doing was still so far beyond wrong that it didn't need to get any worse. Just the fact that Charlie didn't have to leave, the notion that I couldn't supervise my daughter and him together all the time, that he slept downstairs and she easily could have crept down there in the middle of the night, that all I had to go on was the trust in the honor of somebody who'd admitted to wanting to impregnate my daughter at the age of twelve... all of that was enough of an escalation on its own.

I mean, it did escalate a little more, in that Alice started going naked around the house too. Just a few months ago I'd insisted she at least wear panties when she was recieving her special-treat spoogelestation on her glasses, but once Charlie lived with us, it didn't seem like a fight I could win. After all, we shared bathrooms and Alice did like running around in just underwear in the mornings before she had to get dressed and when she wanted to wear less the whole argument of 'but you guys do it' seemed to be harder and harder to defend against. So, with her zipped-lip, locked-key promise that she wasn't to tell her father or anyone else--because that part alone could screw over anything, the rule became that she could be naked only when she was alone, or when both of us were.

And bathtime, of course, which she wasn't always alone for because Charlie sometimes helped with that. Innocently, mostly. He kept his word, wouldn't touch her or let her touch him sexually until I said it was okay, which I was determined not to do, but he could sit with her and supervise baths, make sure she cleaned behind her ears, or just keep her company with bathtime toys. Once in a while, shower with her, both of them naked, just to save time, and after sex so he wouldn't be facing my daughter with an erect penis staring her right in the mouth. And that still counted as 'naked when both of us are' although the bathtime stuff started just before relaxing into that general rule, where my daughter would walk into our room naked to watch me give a blowjob or ride Charlie, usually standing as though proud of him looking at her most private area, sometimes getting close enough to get splashed and require a shower.

My lover complimenting her on her pussy or ass or cute nipples did weird me out, but Alice seemed to eat those compliments up, never having gotten them before (or at least, I hope not), but it always seemed... polite, more than anything else? Like that he wasn't super aroused by her at eight years old but he wanted to make her feel good about her body, and maybe wanted to encourage her to keep showing off. I probably should have put a stop to it, still.

I might have, if he wasn't generally pretty good with Alice, and I could see some of the benefits. When I told Alice to eat her vegetables or make sure her room was clean, she'd sigh and look glum, but when Charlie did, she wanted to please him, especially with the prospect of him reading her bedtime stories was potentially on the line.

Those were also pretty problematic, you know. I don't know how quickly they started to be. I'd let him read to her many times before I really paid close attention to his style of story, how he would sometimes twist fairy tales in perverted ways, which made Alice giggle and, somehow, like them a lot more than my stories.

I probably should have seen it coming, really. After all, the last few years had been a very patient, very slow process of grooming me and my daughter, indoctrinating her into submitting to him when the time came, and me to allowing it. I knew that was the goal. I probably shouldn't have let him into her bedroom alone with her at all, but among all the things I let him do, bedtime stories seemed the least of my worries. If he broke my trust and tried to molest her, rape her, I'd certainly hear, intervene (I hoped) to stop it. Phil was either watching TV or sometimes already asleep by then (early morning wakeups for work sometimes had him in bed before his preteen daughter) and I usually kept close enough that I could hear his voice, often changing to match a particular character, and my daughter's occasional question or giggle. If he slipped a finger into her pajamas, I reasoned, I'd hear something.

But it was the words that were doing the real grooming, the stories themselves, and once I started listening to them, I couldn't stop, couldn't bring myself to stop letting him tell them, no matter how inappropriate they were for an eight- or nine- year old girl.

Like his Red Riding Hood story, which went more or less like the original, at first, but had a twist ending... the woodsman who rescued Red and her Grandmother turned out to be a wolf too, but a friendly wolf, and Grandma rewarded him by training Red to be his mate, that she said 'What a big cock you have!' but eventually he got her used to it until Red could take it in every hole and milk him of his wolf cum and have wolf-babies.

Or Sleeping Beauty, in which the Queen escaped the spell of Sleeping that afflicted the whole castle because she was having sex with a guard and left her daughter unattended when she touched the spinning wheel that put her and everyone else to sleep. That she reasoned that since sex kept her from falling asleep, sex might wake her daughter up. But it had to be really good sex, with a prince, so she travelled the kingdoms trying to find someone to fuck her daughter and wake her up, personally auditioning them until she finally found the right guy and they lived happily ever after.

Charlie tells them better, and with Alice prompting him for details, and her knowledge of sex from observation but not experience, she probed him from more and more, but there was a common theme, the princess or innocent girl always wound up pregnant by an older man, sometimes with her mother (or grandmother)'s help, sometimes despite her best efforts.

Those were the tales my daughter went to sleep with in her ninth year. Sometimes with his cum in her belly (from a milkshake, still). Sometimes with very detailed memories of what sex looked like, at least among adults. No feelings yet, I hoped, but it wouldn't take a lot of imagination to put her into those tales in place of the princess, and Uncle Charlie as the woodsman or commoner prince or ship captain or whatever. Fuck, I could do it easily enough.

Sometimes I felt like I was living in my own kind of twisted fairy tale. And who knows, maybe I was going through something mothers had gone through for centuries. Fairy tales were sometimes based on some level of fact after all, just sanitized. Rumplestiltskin's just one of many tales where some magical being provided some favor to an innocent young woman, in exchange for her first born child. Maybe the truth was that he wanted that first born child to fuck. Maybe spinning straw into gold was really a metaphor for spinning a sub-par sex life into one full of orgasms. Maybe Charlie really was some kind of magical troll, and this was how they reproduced.

I didn't think that, really, but the bastard was lucky as fuck, and had a power over me that I wanted to believe was unnatural. Probably just my own horny pussy though, like he proved to me years earlier in that alley behind the grocery.

Every day, I thought about calling it quits, terminating our arrangement, our relationship. Particularly after Alice started walking around nude. She was of an age where that was starting to mean more. I mean, for the first few years, a little girl's really no different than a little boy, in terms of looks. Yes, boys usually have shorter hair, but a little wardrobe alterations and you could pass off one gender as the other. Even nude, if you saw them from the back, you might not know what parts they had unless they bent over. But it seemed to me like around age eight or nine kids start growing more into their gender. I'm not even talking about puberty, though it can start that early. Because I do believe some little girls are born with penises and some boys are born with pussies, and that they can know that even earlier, but... I don't know, it feels like around that eight is where another chunk of the 'this is what girls move like' stereotypes really starts instinctively settling in to the bodies of those who already know they are girls--and I presume likewise for boys, although as I had a daughter and I am a girl, I was more attuned to the signs there. Tossing your hair back for attention. Moving with a girlish gait. And, in Alice's case, bending over a lot as though experimenting with the power to get men to look.
Of course, that could have been just because Charlie's compliments were starting to have an effect, that she liked being nude around him, flaunting her body. Maybe that was what was worrying me.

She even asked if she could have an all-nude birthday party when she turned nine. I thanked a God I wasn't sure I believed in that she asked me when Phil wasn't around. Charlie was, and he seemed tickled pink by the idea, but he backed me up when I reminded Alice that not everybody was comfortable with nudity, and that was why she was never to talk about it with her friends.

I did promise her another cumshot to the glasses. Not at the party, of course, but to help make the cake. This time, I let her feel the cock for more than a few strokes, wrap her tiny hand around while it squirted in her face, clouded her glasses and again, got some on her tongue. Really, it was the first time my daughter jacked off Charlie in her own face, I just got him to the 'almost there' point. That probably counts as the first 'sex act,' if I had to judge, which put me in a guilty depression... after, I mean, and I got over it before the party.

It was a dirty kind of fun to watch her brag to all her friends that she helped make the cake this year, and then catch her eye and exchange a cute, secret mother-daughter smile.

But again, this was only a special treat, I had no intention of making a pattern of it. Charlie did start asking for more though, some that was innocent, some that was decidedly not. Whether it was asking if I'd allowing her to sit naked on his naked lap (but no touching, he insisted), or suggesting I let my daughter feel his balls as he exploded into me. Almost got me with that one, particularly with Alice looking eager for me to say 'yes,' but... no.

Sometimes his lobbying was private, when Alice was away, and he'd give a reminder that the clock was ticking or make the gentle suggestion that I teach my daughter how to give a blowjob. "Keeping a guy from getting in her pants with a good blowjob is a skill any young girl should know."

I was smart then, actually, and I'm quite proud of it. I told him that I'd teach her when the countdown reached three... if he was good, didn't push, didn't suggest things while Alice was in earshot, never touched her sexually before then.

I mean he slipped up with the suggestions now and then, but I considered those 'heat of the moment' and forgave him, and as for touching... well, as far as I knew. He made it to March 15th, and this time, I didn't even get to offer. "I don't mean to push," he said. "But you did say you'd teach your daughter blowjob technique."

I had. I never said I'd let her actually try it out, stick his cock in her tiny mouth or throatfuck her. I gave exactly what I promised, and while Charlie lay on our marital bed and Alice watched, I gave her a detailed lesson on how to do something she'd watched a thousand times before. But I hadn't actually taught her then, and only answered a few general questions. Now I was 'teaching' her, but I wasn't going to let my nine-year-old actually suck on an adult cock.

I did let her feel his cock with her tiny hands while I did, though. I hadn't planned on it, but in the moment, that seemed only fair, since both of them were rather annoyed with my hair-splitting technicality of a promise. Alice didn't even know I made the promise, but I did call her down with "I'm going to teach you how to give a good blowjob," so although she was attentive at first assuming she'd get her turn, by the time I made it clear that she wasn't going to get to put it in her mouth she was glaring at me with murder in her nine-year-old eyes. Letting her hold the base and cup the balls as I finished seemed to mollify her. As I went to deep throat, trying to show off, make my lips kiss against her fingers, I felt him shoot off in my mouth, swallowed every jet, and then finally pulled my cummy mouth off Charlie's dick so I could take a breath before continuing the lesson.

Turns out was almost every jet, some dribbled on Alice's hand when I pulled away, and I had to pretend to ignore her stroking up and down like trying to milk a little for herself out of him. I suppose I didn't have to, but there's a time for firm discipline and time for turning a blind eye, and when you're teaching your daughter how to give a blowjob without actually letting her try, it's one of those second times.

I licked some cum off my lips, then said, "Now, some people say it's not really a blow job unless you swallow," I explained. "And swallowing is always preferred over spitting it out. Spitting is a sign of disrespect, and incredibly rude." I wouldn't tolerate any of the girls in my family spitting on the street and I won't tolerate it in their eventual lovelife either. "But really, the goal is service to someone you love, and some people like facials more, and so you should always let whoever you're sucking decide where to cum."

"Sh..Dang," Charlie said, barely managing to avoid swearing in front of my daughter. "Wish you told me that before, I'd have chosen inside Alice's little pussy."

I suppose I walked into that one. He said it like a joke, and Alice did indeed giggle at it, but I was not amused, knowing how much he really meant it. Nor was I amused by Alice using that moment to bring her hand up to her mouth and lick the sperm off it. "Within reason," I clarified, and then said, "And of course, you're not allowed to do any of this, with anybody. This is just instructional. In fact, you probably couldn't if you wanted to, without throwing up."

"I don't think it tastes that bad," she said.

"Not the taste. There's something called the gag reflex. It's why people stick a finger in their throat to make themselves throw up. It takes a lot of practice to get rid of it." Really, I almost regretted not thinking of this sooner, making use of it as part of the lesson. If I'd let her actually practice giving Charlie a blowjob and then forced her head down, she probably wouldn't be keen to repeat it until she was much older! I could see she wasn't sure whether to believe me or not. Well, there was still time to demonstrate, just not on Charlie. I decided right then and there to get one of my old dildos and make her try to deep throat it... just not when Charlie or Phil were around. Phil because he'd freak out, and Charlie would probably encourage her to keep trying. I still had a strap-on from one of my old lovers who enjoyed pegging.

That opportunity would come later that night, and Alice found out that she was not yet as ready to enjoy giving the kind of blowjobs Mommy does as she thought, but before that she just had to take it on faith and, more than that, that it didn't really matter that it might make her puke, that she was too young and not allowed. That was most important.

If she wanted to taste cum, for now, milkshakes were the way to do it. Other than that, she was not to have any inside her from anybody, nor touch a penis without my direct supervision.

Luckily she was still nine and mostly listened to me. Even if I did have to face-fuck her with a black strap-on to really sell the point that Mommy knows best. I made her repeat those words exactly, in the bathroom, when her gagging calmed down.

But I knew the day was coming soon that she would not think Mommy knew best, that she would try sex stuff for herself. I knew she masturbated now... sometimes when she watched Charlie and I together, she rode a pillow and rocked in time to the movements. She also, mostly in the privacy of her own room (after I made an issue of it at least) stuck things up her ass... pens and stuff, nothing much bigger than a finger, so I knew she still wasn't ready for Charlie, but if she kept it up...
Well, I often had to comfort myself with the knowledge that the countdown still had three years left.

Still, I knew at this rate, in three years she'd be pretty much putty in his hands, that even if I did what I still swore to myself I planned, kicked Charlie to the curb, he might do what he threatened years earlier, show up at her school and... not forcibly rape, just convince my daughter that now was the time to try sex. I could picture her hopping on his cock at the first invitation. Even if I'd warned her that he wanted to impregnate her. Three more years of cum milkshakes and sex demonstrations and dirty fairy tales could get her there, even if nothing more inappropriate had occurred, and I had to be realistic, look at my track record on adhering to my promise of "nothing more inappropriate than what we've already done."

Aside from the blowjob lesson (which I thought was pretty successful, all in all, in cooling down Alice's interest, at least if you counted the gag reflex demonstration in the bathroom while Charlie and Phil were out drinking), I did mostly hold to it, kept rejecting Charlie's requests.

Anal was his next goal, I think, or at least some steps down that road, maybe just to be granted the right to finger her ass while I serviced him, which was one of several suggestions, but he seemed pretty aware of her tendency to stick things up there on her own. As usual, I caught myself thinking (often in the middle of sex) 'what's the harm?' but I'd grown wiser, knew that if I kept letting Charlie work on me, he'd chip away at my objections. Or that if I got horny enough, I'd chip away myself, make a promise. If I wanted to save my daughter from being the mother of his children, I was going to have to accept one important fact.

I couldn't afford to have three more years. I had to start now, phasing Charlie out of my life. Or my daughter's life, but I knew that meant mine too.

It was a decision... the right decision for the time, I think, despite what happened after. But it wasn't an easy one to stick to. It was like losing weight is for a lot of people, I think. "I'm going to do it," you say. "But not today. There's a holiday." Or "Well, I can't start on a weekend." Or "I had a rough week." Or "Just after one more sausage." And you go months like that.

This is why people set dates. New Years Resolutions. Beginning of the month.
In my case, after failing a bunch of promises to myself, I resolved that within a month of my daughter's tenth birthday, I'd have a serious conversation with her, and another with Charlie.

I went back and forth whether I should give her one last 'present' first. Of the sexual kind, I mean... of course she was getting a bunch of normal presents for her tenth birthday. Probably another cum cake if she wasn't too old for that. Same with a cumshot on her glasses, or maybe without them for once, I could see myself allowing that. But I wasn't sure if I should also let Charlie push one step farther before I started cutting things back.

In the end, I decided to, but not because of getting away with my own horniness, or the strong submissive streak in me that craved giving Charlie something he'd enjoy even knowing what it cost. As it turned out, it was compassion and sympathy for my daughter.

I haven't talked much about Alice's life outside of her occasional unorthodox role in Charlie and my sex life. You might think I was raising her to be somebody's personal fucktoy or something from that, but no, she was a normal kid, who also enjoyed normal kid things, and had normal kid relationships.

Except not all kids get to be popular. In most lives, I suspect, it waxes and wanes, sometimes they're a complete outcast for unknown reasons and sometimes they've got a solid bunch of friends and sometimes super popular, and it can shift in an instant, but parents-- good parents, at least, like I tried to be--are always aware, always worry and over the past year or so I'd absolutely noticed that her social life was waning. She had friends, but a lot of them were just "other kids she could talk to at school and have a good time with" as opposed to "people you actually make an effort to do things with." One of the reasons Alice watched us so much was that she was bored and lonely. I mean sure, interested too, but there were times where Charlie and I were right in the middle of a good fuck and Alice got a text on her tablet and ran off excitedly because friends actually wanting to talk to her was rarer and more important.
For the past three years, attendance at her birthday had continually dropped as well.

Maybe it was the cum in the birthday cake batter. Maybe only Alice really enjoyed that particular flavor, and to everyone else I was just the mom with the funny-tasting cake. I've considered that possibility. And, of course, let's not discount the influence of the other mothers, some of whom might not want their daughters hanging around with the daughter of a shameless slut. Only one person had ever said anything like that, but it could easily have been a factor in the others. And this was the first year Charlie was living with us, instead of just being a frequent guest, which had already, I know, cost Alice the opportunity to have friends come visit (not because we were doing anything at the time, we made sure to keep things clean when visitors are around, but some parents were leery of him being around for some reason).

Whatever combination of factors were involved, for Alice's tenth birthday, she only got four other girls attending her party. One was a new kid, and her parents just as new to the neighborhood and I could tell she was there not because she particularly liked Alice but because she was trying to make friends with anybody. I mean they got along (and they did turn out to stay friends over the longer term), but really it was looking like my daughter was down to three friends who cared enough to celebrate her birthday. More than that had been 'maybes' to the invitation, but whether it was calculated to disappoint her or just rotten luck, none of the rest showed up, or even sent a present.

My daughter was delightfully cheerful in those days, but I could tell it disappointed her. Charlie noticed too, but he didn't pressure me to let him fuck her in the ass to cheer her up or anything, just mentioned that Alice seemed down while I was cleaning up after the party was over. Good thing too, because if he had tried to push something sexual, I might have just thrown him out then and there. I'd also noticed he was talking to New Girl's mom a lot at the party... which was good because it kept her from noticing when her daughter mentioned that the cake's taste reminded her of somebody named Michael (her older brother, I found out much later), but it still made me get progressively more steamed as the party went on and they were laughing and it seemed almost flirting. Even if I was planning to phase Charlie out, jealousy's often irrational and rage-inducing.

His concern for my daughter's feelings won him a little bit of a reprieve, and even if he didn't say it I thought that doing something with Charlie that she otherwise wouldn't be allowed might well cheer her up, so I still needed him.

There were still firm rules. Anal was right out. I wasn't going to let him molest her, either. If he secured permission to rub her pussy once I worried he'd be doing it every chance he got. We had still never explicitly talked about whether my permission, once granted for a step, could be taken away... Alice was still allowed to sit on Charlie's naked lap as long as she wore at least panties, and I didn't even get asked, anymore. It was considered safe, allowed... even though a lot of people would consider it not safe at all. And they'd have a point. I knew sometimes he'd let his cock grow while she sat listening to a dirty fairy tale, in a way where she could feel the swelling meat up against her panties or bare leg, imagined maybe he had her shift to various unorthodox seating positions to feel it in more stimulating ways, but as long as nothing slipped underneath the underwear, and he didn't actually start masturbating that still fell within the rules. A lap sitting story-session often worked out pretty well for me... I couldn't complain about her giving him hard-ons he'd later use on me. Maybe, when I wasn't looking, he'd gone beyond what I was then comfortable with, talked my daughter into using her hands to stroke his cock while it nestled between her spread legs at the crotch of her panties... but again, that was her touching him, not molestation. Don't get me wrong, I'd have been pissed if I walked in on that, but I'd already opened the door by allowing him to stroke him a few times, so I couldn't accuse him of breaking our deal like I could if I found him stroking her pussy.

That feeling was what made me so wary of allowing anything in that area as her special present... she'd enjoy it, but I'd be, potentially, giving him permission to touch her private areas that he might consider ongoing. I didn't think he gave her cum facials when I wasn't there because I knew his general stamina level, but this... I could see Charlie taking advantage every time Alice sat from then on, and neither ever say anything to me because it was now allowed. And again, if Charlie wanted, from there I was sure he could swiftly persuade Alice to break any of my rules and keep silent. I knew how often I'd been talked into something with Charlie's hand kneading my pussy.

I needed to think up something sexual my daughter could do that would not involve Charlie touching her, that she hadn't already done, that was more intense than her taking a load of cum right in the glasses, but that wouldn't set a dangerous precedent. And that would cheer her up of course, that was the whole point of the exercise in the first place, I wasn't just doing this for my own kinky satisfaction.

In the end, as so much of my life these past few years, it all came down to cum. And a compromise. A cumpromise, you might say (Phil isn't the only one who can make stupid jokes). Charlie wanted anal, but no way.

That said... there's really no harm in cum in the ass, right?

I comforted my daughter in the conventional way that evening, after the depressing party that took place during the afternoon. Phil was home, so I couldn't make my offer, but I still wanted to show my support, which I did by just hanging out with her, trying to be the cool mom who is still friends with her daughter and likes spending time with her alone even though she's got a big-cocked lover she could be going to a sex club with. But, Alice was obviously mopey, so, in a free moment, I did whisper a reminder that Charlie and I still had to a special birthday treat to give her when the moment was right, and she perked up a little at that, already aware that birthdays, and holidays were usually the best times for something fun and new to be allowed to do. I don't know if she put together about March 15th yet.

The next day, when we were alone, I brought it up again, but this time, gave her options for what her treat might be... she could either have Charlie give her another facial on her glasses and face and maybe, if she wanted, this time I'd put more of it on her tongue. That got a sort of disinterested "yeah maybe" but clearly she was waiting for option B. "Or, I can let Charlie's cum get in your ass instead."

"You'd let Charlie fuck my ass?" I'd already lost the battle of swearing with Alice... surrendered, maybe more like it. She'd started experimenting with it just that last year, found Charlie found it hilarious and I would only give her token disapproval, so she kept it up. Her tendency to swear in school had already gotten her in trouble, and might have also been one of the reasons other moms didn't want their kids around her, but, really, Alice wasn't that far out of the mainstream. Lots of kids swear these days. I've heard kids even younger than her swearing at strangers in the street. We live in a vulgar time and somebody really should do something about it.

Anyway, back to having my daughter get her first load of cum in her ass. "No," I told her. "You're still too young for that. But... I can let him shoot in your ass crack." Still not sold, I could tell from her face. "Looking at you, not me." Since I did try and make sure he was mostly looking at me when he came on my daughter's face, that might count as an exception. But clearly not enough of one, so I added something that made it interesting. "And if you want to, we can push it in the hole and you can see if you're old enough to like that." Another little trick of mine... she'd get excited, knowing that when she was old enough she might be allowed to do it for real. But really, I hoped it might buy her time... if she expected cum inside her asshole to have some special magical sensation, something that--when she felt it--was the signal for when she really could enjoy anal sex. Well, then, logically, if she just felt squishy cum in her ass and nothing magical, then clearly she wasn't old enough, right?

I had other tricks too, other plans, plans I hoped would turn around and work out to her benefit as I planned Project Phase-Out for the next couple weeks. For that, I had Alice put the idea to Charlie herself... we'd play it so I'd tell him we were going to do it on her face again, but Alice would ask for it on her butt instead, and I'd give in and look to Charlie like I was surrendering.

Of course, Alice screwed it up. I'd told her to say 'I know I'm not old enough for you to stick it in, but could Uncle Charlie cum on my butthole instead?"

Instead, when we visited Charlie by the couch where he now slept, my daughter naked, me not (Charlie just wearing boxers... somewhere that 'only naked when both of us are' rule got dropped), I told him "Since Alice is ten now, I said she could have you cum on her glasses an extra time."

He got up, said "Oh, right... well, I'll take any chance I can get to cum on that pretty face of hers again," and dropped his boxers.

And this was the place for her line. Only she got overexcited and said, "But wait, instead, could Uncle Charlie cum inside my butt?" Or she was hoping to push me into more than I'd promised, hoping that I wouldn't back down when I saw how much Charlie liked that idea. His cock sure did.

Permission was still sought... maybe just because I was here, but he did look at me, with hungry eyes and a hard cock, "You'd have to ask your mother about that."

I was strong, though. "No, Alice is too young for anal sex." I almost ended it there, punished Alice for screwing up with just an ordinary facial, but she gave me an even better wide-eyed hopeful look and I sighed. "But if you want, he can cum ON your butt."

So I posed her, on the ground, face down, ass up, on her knees, hands spreading her butt-cheeks apart. He stood behind her stroking a huge erection.

"Just hold on a moment, don't start stroking, I'll be right back," I said, and left them alone as I went upstairs. He could have fucked her right then and there, while I was out of the room. Anal or just take the opportunity to dive into her baby pussy. Honestly, I doubt she would have stopped him.

If I came back and he was doing that, and she was enjoying it or at least not complaining, I might have let it happen, just given in right there. I'm not sure. Maybe part of me wanted the countdown to end, one way or another and so I just took a roll of the dice on which way it'd go. I gave it a good two minutes, listening for any noises, wondering if I'd come down to see my daughter losing some kind of virginity at only ten years old. And if Charlie broke his word, it wouldn't be my fault. To this day, I kind of wish I had walked in on that, just given up after I got to witness that.

Instead, I returned and found them more or less where they were before. Alice was sitting on her lower legs, head no longer pressed to the floor, but when she saw me, she resumed the position I put her in. Charlie looked at me questioningly, but I kept one hand behind my back. "So, are you going to start, or what?"

"Sure you don't want me to push it in?" he asked. "You had me hoping you went up there for lube."

"No, Charlie," I said with an irritated sigh. "I'm not going to let you anally penetrate my daughter. But if you want to cum with her bent over in front of you, this is the closest you're going to get. Look but no touching."

He shrugged, knowing better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, knowing he'd have better luck pushing on another day--or at least, that's what I thought he decided--and started stroking. "Can't we get a little closer at least?" he said after a short time. "I'd at least like to be as close as possible. Plus, I'll have better aim."

Yes, I'd made an obvious blunder here. Surely the biggest was allowing an adult man to jack off over my naked daughter, but only slightly less irresponsible... I didn't consider that cum aimed for an ass could easily hit a pussy, and even at Alice's young age that could be enough to get pregnant. So we repositioned, having my daughter dangling over one of the arms of the couch, lying there, puffy pussy still in view, but now at least I could grab hold of the cock and make sure it stays only over the rump while it's squirting.

It was quite a sight watching his dick loom over my daughter's upthrust ass, while he stroked and pumped as though he was just getting ready to sink inside, but just wanted to demonstrate to me how deep it would go in a ten-year-old body. My daughter looked up back at him... I'd have preferred her face to be buried in the couch but that was unrealistic I suppose with something this exciting, and it was a birthday present after all.

"You know I'm no good at getting myself off," he reminded me, which I always took for an excuse, but one I was--usually--happy to indulge him in... when it was just me. When my daughter was involved... well, I was still usually happy to indulge him. I knew he was big on the pleasure of watching a mom get involved, wanted me to eventually milk him dry of cum in her baby pussy, and if I did grant him anal access to my daughter he probably would have loved me to help. Since this was just going to be a cum splattering, my assistance didn't seem to be that big a deal compared to what I already planned, so I started to lean forward.

Only to be given another option. "You mind if I just rub it a little between her buns?"

I had to think about that one. Hotdogging my daughter did seem pretty sexual, but probably more innocent than a spoogelestation with her mouth open and hand on his cock. And this was intended as a last hurrah... even if it was an escalation, it wasn't one that could go anywhere.

What really sold it was Alice herself, at the suggestion I could see her stomach muscles straining as she tried to raise her ass to meet the cock above, to give it as a given, all while saying, "I don't mind, Uncle Charlie," as though it was her decision, not mine.

In other circumstances that initiative would have been a bad sign... was anyway, but it would have forced me to turn it into a lesson, deny it on principle, even if it would be fun to see him rub there. But I really did want to cheer up my daughter, so... the recent birthday girl got what she wanted. "Fine, just keep the head out of play. It even looks like it's considering penetration, I'll grab your balls and squeeze." And I made a motion with my hands, demonstrating a squeeze that would get my nails involved.

He smirked, spit once for lubrication, an action that made both of us jump with surprise, but Alice recovered more quickly than me and Charlie began sawing the length of his shaft up and down, like a slow fuck of a gentle molester who didn't realize he missed both holes.

Between the spit and his weeping head, he left my daughter's butt glistening while he worked himself up to an ejaculation I was preparing to aim right at the asshole I'd just told him to avoid. He did seem to be following that rule at least, and others as well. Technically, aside from his dick, he hadn't touched her at all, at least with any deliberate motion. His hands rested on the couch's back and arm, which meant my daughter needed to provide the stimulating friction, pressing her buns together around his cock while making soft breathy moans like she was getting fucked.

Probably the closest thing to it, actually, and more direct stimulation than I'd ever seen her get from another human being. Deliberate or not, his balls were also slapping up against her little pussy. It was probably deliberate in the sense he knew it had to happen before he made his request, but at the same time it was a natural consequence of their position and my agreeing to let him use her buttocks for stimulation so I felt like I couldn't call him on it.

And he looked good, I can admit that, faux-fucking my daughter, his size and rough overall look looming over her like some kind of monster, only one she had no fear of. He was being perfectly trustworthy while I watched, anyway, the head always stood up over her body, sometimes drooling a trail of slime. Seemed like it was taking superhuman restraint to not just go for what I knew he wanted.

He'd be ready soon, I knew, so I figured it was better I intervene now. I reached over, grabbed him, and started the final stroking. Timed it almost perfectly, if I do say so myself, only a few strokes, I told my daughter to spread, and I aimed his squirts like an artist with a paintbrush... paint gun, maybe, since there was some force to it, but I glazed her butt and back and made sure to get some in her butthole.

I've never claimed thinking ahead as one of my stronger qualities. I was focused so hard on her butthole that I forgot that it was going to inevitably drip over to her pussy. "Shit. let me get some paper towels and clean this off."

"Mom, you promised."

So I had. And what were the odds... "You sure you want it?" Charlie stood back, not sure what was going on.

"You promised it would go inside," she reminded me, and so I sighed a motherly sigh and pulled out the dildo I'd retrieved from upstairs.

"Shit," Charlie said. "You can be one kinky bitch, Haley."

"It's not kinky, it's just part of her birthday gift," I said as I tried to gather as much cum as I could on it. "It's not like I'm letting you do it. That would be kinky." Okay, it was a little kinky. But there was a method to my madness. It was a medium sized dildo, bigger than a finger or any kind of pen she'd self-inserted so it was probably going to hurt but not damage... certainly not like trying to get Charlie himself in there. She'd get the message, I knew, that if that was uncomfortable, Charlie would be way worse.

His cum was the only lube I used as I took Charlie's former place behind my daughter only I slowly pushed inside, feeling Alice's body tense and gasp and try to curl back. The cum covered dildo went in, though, more easily than I would have expected, and taking with it enough of Charlie's sperm to keep my promise about getting it inside. If it was causing her pain, she was being a trooper about it, so I worked it in and out a few times.

Yes, you could say I ass-fucked my daughter with my lover's cum as lube but... it was for her own good, I thought. Except for the fact that some of the leakage was definitely working its way into her pussy and the rather annoying fact that I wasn't sure if she was pretending it didn't bother her when it really did, or if she was actually enjoying it. That prospect also bothered me. I mean, I like anal, but I'm a grown-ass woman who took a lot of practice to get to that point, though I suppose her own experimentations had helped. Was helping right then, in fact, as she had reached under herself to dig a hand into her spermy pussy while I was pushing the dildo in. I didn't know if she was actually turned on or just using masturbation as a way to deal with the pain.

Whatever the truth, I certainly wasn't going to keep reaming her ass with my dildo until she either gave up pretending and asked me to stop, or had an actual orgasm from it, though I thought about it. Either would probably have been crossing a line into abuse.

So I pulled it out after only a half dozen strokes, watched her rectum slowly close around bubbles of cum, then started wiping her pussy clear of any danger. "Now don't get used to that," I told her. Told both of them, really. "This is just a one-time thing." I didn't look at my daughter, I looked at Charlie, and I knew he didn't believe me. Well, he'd soon find out how serious I was. As I said, I had a plan, and even this kinky display was a part of it.

I did worry about the cum that might have gotten in her pussy though. A lot. That wasn't part of the plan. In fact, that could have shattered the whole thing. I knew the odds of Alice getting pregnant from that--considering her age and that the cum was never actually squirted directly inside--were slim... how much could carry on her fingers, really? Still, I spent a lot of time thinking about What If?--and I don't mean the cartoon, which wasn't a thing yet.

>>27412

wretched disgusting filth, horrible mind poison, absolute terrible degeneracy; you are fucking sick, deplorable even! I can't believe I almost blew a load to this, when is the rest coming out?

If that got her pregnant, I decided, well, there was really no point in fighting any more. Alice would be--as Charlie so often prophecized--the mother of his children, and that meant that he would be the father of hers. And if she was happy to have sex with the father of her child, was I really going to stand in her way? No, I decided. Fate would have spoken, there, and I'd have to concede to Charlie.

I wasn't going to know whether I had to do that for a few months, and putting my plan into motion stalled for a while while I sweated it out. Not the whole time, but I lost a good few weeks and maybe some of the momentum I'd built up. I kept myself in another holding pattern, no more advancements, trying to ignore my daughter's hopeful expression whenever Charlie pulled out of me like she thought I was going to suggest putting it in her, trying to ignore Charlie pointing out how well she took a hard plastic dick in her ass, that a properly lubed human one would do her some good.

Finally, I took a deep breath and put my plans into motion.

I went with Charlie first. The next time he brought up my forcing his cum up my daughter's ass with a dildo... that is, the next time he did it while we were alone in the house and she wasn't in earshot, I layed into him. Honestly, it was cathartic. I was doing it for a point, but it felt good to complain about how he was living in our house rent-free, doing nothing all day and still had the nerve to be trying to fuck my daughter.

He looked vaguely guilty at the 'doing nothing' part but knew me better than to think the 'fucking my daughter' part was a dealbreaker, considering how long I'd lived with that goal. Still, I thought I made my point, and transitioned into tears... fake tears, but driven by some real anxieties about how I felt I was losing control of the situation, that him living here was an unfair advantage of the terms of our agreement.

"I've still got three years, don't I?"

"I mean in three years, Alice will be the mother of my children," he said, as if by rote, and good thing for him. If he'd changed that countdown and the implied promise that went with it, I'd have to take much more drastic action.

"That's the only thing keeping you from being out on the streets today," I told him. "But as long as you're holding to that... you're not the only one who can give a countdown." So I gave him one of my own. "One year," I said, trying to make it sound like I was coming up with this on the spot. "You have one year to get a job and get your own place."

"You sure about that? That's not a lot of time, considering."

It was a year. Twelve whole months. I thought I was being super generous, considering. "I know it's not exactly a ten-year-warning, but it's what you get. Get a job, get a place, and you can keep trying to convince me to help." For another year or so, I privately decided, then I'd have to cut him off completely. "But if I even get a hint that you're trying to speed up your timetable, you're out on your ass immediately."

Finally, the last tool in my arsenal. Weakness, or the appearance of it. I softened my face, made it look like I was just an overwhelmed mother who was still putty in his hands, that if he just gave a little, he'd get more in return. "I don't want to back out of our arrangement... I just need a little space, Charlie. There's a pace to things, and they've been advancing way too fast." The years just seemed to be zooming by, really, far quicker than they had when I was Alice's age. Maybe that's just a part of getting older, or maybe the particular depravity Charlie's lured me into has warped my time sense.

"Fair enough," he said. "Twelve months... yeah, I think I could probably do that."
I told myself he was talking about getting a job, a place.

Maybe he was, then, but the second part of my plan was still in the works.

I had to be a bit choosier about when to talk to my daughter. I had to wait until Charlie was out of the house and she wasn't, which was much harder to arrange since he started living with us. Or I could do it in the car while I was driving her somewhere. But it seemed like home was the best place for the conversation.

Luckily, Charlie actually did seem to be making efforts to get a job. The first few days I thought it was just lazing around, using our WiFi, but apparently he was trying to get interviews lined up, which... some people say the economy's gotten better, but it didn't seem that way sometimes. But there were opportunities, and Phil, when he heard about my ultimatum, told Charlie he'd ask around and see if there were any openings he could help him into. I couldn't believe what a fool my husband was sometimes, but at least he was one with a big heart. I do love him for that.

Luckily, one day the stars aligned just right and both Charlie and Phil were out of the house while Alice was home. So I went up to her room, sat down in the chair by her window while she played a tablet game on her bed. "Honey... we need to talk about Charlie."

Her head snapped up from her game at that. "What about?"

"You know Mommy shouldn't have been letting you do a lot of the stuff I've let Charlie do with you, and shouldn't have let you see most of the stuff you've seen, right?" She had to, or she'd have told everyone by now and I'd be in jail. "I'm sorry about that. It's just that Charlie..." I'd planned this conversation, really I had, but the words fled my head when I started.

They fled even faster when my daughter started speaking, something I could never accurately plan for. "He fucks you silly?"

"I mean... yes, that's one way to put it."

"It's okay, Mom, I understand." And back to her game, as though that was the end of the conversation.

"It's just that Charlie fills a part of me..."

She lifted her eyes and smirked. "More than one part."

I had to give that to her, so I smiled back even as I said, "That's not what I mean. I mean..." I took a breath. "I know you must think what I've done so far is very strange." She stared blankly at me and I remembered that she just grew up with it, so it probably wasn't strange to her. I jumped ahead. "I know you like Charlie a lot, and he seems very nice to you, but Charlie isn't a very nice man."

"Is this because he wants to fuck me?"

"Yes. He hasn't, has he? He hasn't secretly done anything like that to you?"

My daughter frowned. "No, of course not," she said.

"But you know he wants to." She shrugged. "And right now I'm the only thing holding him back."

"It's okay if you want to let Uncle Charlie fuck me, Mom. I think it'd be fun. You seem to love his cock a whole lot."
I was trying to save her and here she was giving me permission to just turn her over. "No, it's not okay," I told her, drawing on my conviction that sometimes mothers have to protect their kids from themselves. "You're still a child, and you may not understand this but you have to trust me that this would not be good for you. I know you call him Uncle Charlie but he doesn't really think of you like that, to him you're just a body he wants to use and a life he's happy to ruin just so long as he gets what he wants. Now I can handle him, keep him from hurting you, but what I need from you is to stop encouraging him."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Remember what I said about her potty mouth? This, from a ten-year-old, but I'd already given up on that battle. I was focused on the next one.

"Every time you come watch us, you're encouraging him. Every time you ask for one of his special milkshakes. Every time you walk around naked in the house... I know you love the attention, that's natural, but what he sees is someone he can abuse to satisfy his own perverted needs. And that's Mommy's job, so you need to stop it."

"I can't believe this!" she snapped at me, getting a dark look in her eye. "You just want him for yourself! Uncle Charlie loves me and you're jealous! Like an evil stepmother in a fairy tale!"

That hurt. "I am your mother," I told her. "Not a step mother. And as your mother, I'm telling you, you will get hurt." She continued to glare at me, so I added, "Maybe I was too harsh. I think Charlie does love you, in his way. But the more you encourage him, the more it turns to just lust, and that's something you can't come back from. So that's why you... why we need to stop encouraging him. Because as long as he loves you, he can be in our lives, but if it's just lust... I will get rid of him. You understand?" She didn't answer. "A man who's all lust is no better than a wild beast, and I'll do whatever I need to to protect you from that."

That seemed to get through to her, a little. She might have become a fan of animalistic acts, but she still wanted love. "So what do you think I should do?"

"Like I said, don't encourage him. We want him to think that you're just getting bored with this. Don't tell him we had this conversation. Don't come out to watch us. Maybe once a week at most. And try not to be alone with him, or be naked in front of him. And you tell me if he tries anything, first thing. Understand?"

"And he can stay if I do this?"

"Sure." For a year, maybe two. "I don't want to get rid of him any more than you do." Until it was necessary. I gave her a hug then, and after a few seconds she hugged back. It was real touch and go there for a bit, but I walked out of there thinking it was an absolute win.

And it seemed that way, for a while. Things calmed down. There was still sex, great sex, but Alice began keeping herself out of it more and more. Charlie occasionally pushed me to try and get her more involved again, but I thought he sensed the thinness of the ice he was skating on, figured he could wait a year or two, count on puberty hormones kicking in and my defences being down. He always was good at the long game, and I even considered that maybe he'd still win that way, but I felt I was in a great position to protect my daughter.

Up until she told me she was pregnant, anyway.

A doctor confirmed it, although when she asked, my daughter told the Doctor it was a boy at school, which simplified things immensely. I was upset, and angry, but mostly I blamed myself, telling myself that it was from that one time her masturbated Charlie's cum into her pussy while I fucked her ass with a dildo. Talk about your bad judgment.

Until, on the drive home, I did the math on the numbers the Doctor gave me, and realized Alice got pregnant after the beginning of the school year. After we had our conversation.

That fucking bastard skipped three years ahead in his countdown.

Or so I assumed, anyway. I couldn't be 100% sure it was him at the time. It was certainly possible that I'd accelerated her sexuality and she'd experimented with another kid at her school. But I smelled Charlie on her... not literally, though I suppose at some point I probably should have. On that ride home where her pregnancy was confirmed, I asked her. "It was Uncle Charlie, wasn't it?" And she gave me the same zipped-lipped, locked-and-thrown-away-the-key 'I'll never tell' expression I'd taught her before. Which didn't actually prove anything either way but there was something about the smug look that made me just know.

When we got home, I caught Charlie sitting on the couch, watching TV. Phil wasn't home, so I just stomped up to him and kicked ineffectually at his leg, missing it entirely, stubbed my toe on the couch. "You motherfucker!"

He stood up, looked me over as I winced and hopped over my hurt toe. "I do enjoy fucking mothers," he said. "And enjoy fucking girls into being mothers. You knew that."

"Alice is pregnant, you bastard." And standing right beside me.

"That was always the goal."

"So you're not even going to deny it?" He shrugged. "I can't believe you. We had a deal."

Charlie held up one finger, waving it like he was scolding a small child. "I held my side of the deal."

"You were supposed to get my okay before you did anything with her! You agreed!"
"And you agreed not to try to poison Alice against me or interfere with my access to her life."

"You cheated, Mom," Alice said then, from behind me, and walked up beside Charlie. "You could say no to whatever he asked, but you weren't allowed to tell me to stay away from him, and you did." She seemed proud of herself. "Did you really think I wasn't going to tell him?"

I had thought that. I'd considered that it might get back to him... that was certainly a risk, but from the way the conversation went I thought I'd avoided it. I also didn't think the consequences of her telling would be so dramatic. I thought it might cost me Charlie, but I'd forgotten that it would also be, technically, breaching that specific agreement we made, years earlier. And after that, Charlie was free to do anything to my daughter that she would allow, and the previous several years ensured she was craving everything. I had a sinking feeling that he'd already told Alice the details of our agreement, maybe when she asked him for something that he didn't want to tell me about, that my daughter was waiting for something she could bring to him. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just that my warnings of him being a beast wouldn't be taken seriously or be seen as that bad... he was her Uncle Charlie, and had probably told her many fairy tales of good beasts fucking children that ended in happily ever after for both of them.

This final slip might have been my own fault... but I was still pissed, felt betrayed. After all the things I'd forgiven him for, I couldn't be allowed one mistake? Sure, I'd broken the deal, but... this felt like more than that, like a punishment. I mean, it would be one thing if he decided our deal was no longer binding and he could work his timetable secretly but... I was supposed to still have time before pregnancy was on the table. "So what? I screw up once and you just cut three years off the timeframe?" It could have just been an accident, I supposed, that he didn't expect she'd start having periods.

Charlie looked at me like he was trying to let me down gently about something, and told me, "Haley, we've already been past my timeframe. I'd been holding back because you were cooperating, but once that stopped..."

Bullshit, I thought. "Ten years, you said," I reminded him. Well, something like seven when we made the agreement I breached. "That leaves three years."

"In three years, Alice will be the mother of my children," he said. With one arm he pulled her close to her and she let out a pleased giggle. "I can't exactly bank on twins, so that means I'm going to have to knock her up again. I'll want to give her at least a year in between, of course. That seems only fair." Of course. It was so simple, and I'd missed it all along.

What else had I missed? "How did you even manage to do this? I should have known what was going on!" But I could guess part of it. I'd thought I'd been keeping a good eye on them, limiting their time alone, but there was always one part I couldn't control. A mother's got to sleep. And it would be easy enough for Charlie, as part of a bedtime story, whisper a suggestion for my daughter to come visit him on the couch to ride his cock. Or maybe he would sneak up to her room.

I'd always assumed I would hear anything like that happen. How does a man fuck a ten-year-old girl without waking her mother?

"Why don't we show your Mom, Alice?" he suggested, and slapped my daughter's ass gently. She grinned and rushed upstairs.
Charlie and I stared at each other. He just shrugged, like that explained everything.

What did explain everything was seeing my daughter come downstairs naked wearing my old ball-gag. I'd wondered where that got to. I didn't really need a demonstration beyond that.

I watched the one they gave anyway. I watched Charlie lie on the floor, which made less noise than the couch when people were moving rapidly on it. I watched my little girl guide herself slowly down on his cock, taking the monster like she was well-accustomed to it, which, I guess, by now she was. Didn't interfere. In fact, at this point my motherly instincts said it was probably the best thing for her to do, stretch out her vaginal canal as much as possible before her baby. And I owed it to her to watch as I'd made her watch for so long. So I kept watching, noting her quiet little moans, muffled by the gag I introduced her to, but not completely silent. That made me wonder, how often had they done this? And when? It couldn't all be while I was sleeping, could it? Did Charlie maybe take her cherry while I was out of the room, doing laundry, relying on the noise of the machine to disguise it? Did Charlie sneak up to knock her up in her bedroom while I busy making a big dinner? Or did he really molest her to the point where he just needed to whisper a suggestion in her ear and any night he wanted her she would set an alarm for the early morning and dutifully sneak down the stairs half asleep, gag in hand, to get the full experience on the living room floor. Was I was just too deep a sleeper?

I forced my face stoney so I would be staring at them like I was contemplating murder, but it didn't really feel like they were paying that much attention to me, and, in truth, the intensity of my earlier rage had faded pretty quickly watching something I'd secretly fantasized about for years, found myself still fantasizing about while I was actually watching it, instead of stopping it. Live and right in my face was even better than in my fantasies, even though a part of me was dying, another felt more alive than ever, seeing my daughter bounce and jiggle on him as, at the tender age of ten, she seemed close to an orgasm on his oversized adult cock splitting her cunt.

His real trick wasn't seducing my daughter, though. Anyone with enough patience could groom a child to want a molesting, to enjoy it... but to groom the mother too... well, I had to respect Charlie. Grudging respect, but growing less grudging by the bounce... my anger was giving way to resignation and pleasure, whatever remained seeming mostly held in place by the annoyance at missing out the big moment of impregnation myself. I did like the idea of helping with the next one, though I wasn't sure if I should.

But since my daughter was already pregnant at this point, I supposed it couldn't hurt to grab the base of his cock and let her grind into my fist while I milked him into her.

After he'd dumped his load, my daughter, twitching, sweaty, and practically hyperventilating, laid down on her back along his torso, and Charlie said, "I guess we might not be needing this anymore," and started to undo her gag.

My daughter let out a big gasp to catch up on her breath, then wiped at a long drool of saliva that was dangling from her mouth, and if I had any doubts about it being an unpleasant experience anymore, her first words were to ask, "So we don't have to just fuck late at night anymore?" Well, that explained one thing. My daughter was apparently getting out of bed and sneaking downstairs, not for a drink of water as she used to, but for a load of cum. And I was apparently too deep a sleeper. I took some comfort in that, since that's not something I could control. Then I noticed Alice was looking at me, as though the question wasn't just rhetorical. Whatever authority I'd lost when she took his side over mine, I was still her mother.

"Fine," I said, and she pumped her fist in the air in a spontaneous cheer that also popped his cock out of her. "If you're set on this path, I know it's useless to interfere." Not sure I wanted to anymore. I looked to Charlie. "But you're going have to explain she's pregnant to Phil." My husband was dumb sometimes, but he wasn't so much of an idiot that if Alice wound up pregnant, he wouldn't suspect Charlie first.

I wanted to see how he'd handle it. He was cool about my affair, maybe he'd be cool about this, too.

I had no idea, and that was the source of one last surprise. He waited until dinner, a dinner I cooked, nothing fancy, but some of the tension had faded... or at least, Alice was happier, and Charlie seemed like he felt he was off the hook for finding a job. I guess he was. "By the way, Phil..." he said, casually. "Alice is pregnant."

"Shit." Phil put down his fork, stared down at his plate. "Man, Charlie, when you say to a new neighbor, 'Give me ten years and I'll impregnate your daughter for you...' you really don't fuck around."

And that was the first time I learned exactly how my husband and Charlie first struck up their friendship the day we moved in, just a few months after Alice was born. He always wanted a big family.

So what's a mother to do? Charlie was just too good at getting what he wanted, setting goals, and achieving them. Might as well submit. Especially since... fuck, that man's luck was unbelievable. I was still thinking about keeping to my countdown, kicking Charlie out, more for appearances sake than anything else, and Phil and I were talking about taking Alice out of school so she wouldn't be teased about her swelling belly or being a slut, but... that was the year the pandemic started. Schools shut down and we all had to shelter in place. Which also meant Phil couldn't go anywhere, and his own sex life was cut off, but, at Charlie's urging, Alice was happy to help. Even pregnant, she loved cum and dicks, and now she had two sources of the first and three of the second to fuck her.

I mean, one was a strap-on, but I got a little stir crazy in that pandemic too. None of us wanted to go anywhere, for fear the baby might be especially vulnerable, and if I wanted to have any kind of satisfying sex life, I had to join in, which some might say is not being a good mother, but parenting is often a matter of just doing what the best you can.

I did my best to make sure Alice didn't miss school, even if it was conducted over zoom and sometimes she had a cock in her just off camera while the lessons were being given. And the pandemic helped us avoid awkward questions and conversations before the baby was born, even a handy excuse why we didn't consider getting her an abortion. As if we would. Children were the one blessing that was going to come out of this depravity.

That's where you come in, of course. A beautiful baby girl, born between waves of the pandemic. You were almost named Rona, but that I convinced your mother that was in bad taste. And I have to say, Charlie's been a good father, better than I expected. Of course we can't call him that, and you can't either, but it was clear how much he loved you.

So it didn't seem like that much of a problem to let him keep to his countdown and knock up Alice again before she hit thirteen. It was easier that time. A pregnant ten-year-old, that's a scandal, a sign of potential abuse, particularly with a man like Charlie living in the house. But a pregnant twelve-year-old, having her second child? People just assume 'wow, that's a slutty girl' and don't immediately suspect the father is the same person. This time, I did get to help, though it wasn't as erotic as it would have been helping out with your conception. I do wish Charlie had managed to get me that far, but it was my own fault for cheating.

The most important thing is, now you get to be a big sister. And that's why I'm telling you all this. You're only two, so I don't really expect you to understand any of this... I've seen you lost in that tablet of yours, not even listening. I guess I'm mostly talking to myself here, working out how to explain it all later. The most important thing... and here you need to listen, honey, because this one that affects you. See, Charlie is a little bit sexist. He loves you, don't doubt that for a second, but when he wanted children, he was aiming for a son, and now he's got one in your brother. And he has certain ideas about how a son should be brought up, compared to a daughter, based on the traditions of his family... and maybe he's got something, maybe it's the source of that unwavering confidence that has carried him this far, and will carry your brother just as far.

Or maybe it's just outdated patriarchal bullshit. But either way, I've learned by now I can't fight Charlie when he's set his mind to something, and your mother loves the idea, so I might as well not fight it either. We may be on a countdown, but there's plenty of time. We'll go slow, so slow it'll just seem a normal part of growing up to you. And I promise, I'll do my best to make sure you enjoy every step of the way. I'll teach you how just much satisfaction there can be in submission. I hope you take my lessons to heart.

After all, in ten years, you're going to become your little brother's sex slave.

The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom

Don't know how often you check here, so I also sent this to your feedback email. Pardon the redundancy.

I have an interesting relationship with your works. Some I like, some I don't, but you're always doing something interesting. Something different. I like your conventional stories most, and I miss Relatively Powered. I don't like how dark a couple of the iCity tales got, or how casual or kinky the Phil Phantom tributes get, but I do understand why you do them. You're good at explaining yourself.

Countdown feels like a merging of your standard and Phil tribute styles, and it was very much worth the read. The building anticipation, the slippery slope, watching Haley gradually be corrupted but still fighting it. If this had been any other porn story, things would have gone according how they seemed. But no, a last minute serve that was properly set up earlier. It has been a long time since I've been this turned on by a story, heart hammering and all.

And yet, I'm also disappointed, much in the same way Haley was. The naughty side of me wanted to be there when Alice got pregnant, be a witness to something so wrong, but so erotic happening. I understand this is in service to the twist and I think the story is better for it, but I still can't help feeling disappointed. If you weren't so busy with other stories that you're working on, I'd ask for a side chapter. Either from Charlie's POV as he feels the excitement of being with Alice and accomplishing his goal, or from Alice's POV as she feels the excitement of this strange new thing with her favorite person, not knowing his intentions or what her body is about to go through.

I don't know how often you get feedback, but Countdown is your best erotic-focused work so far, and I'm glad to see that the time you take to write these is well invested. I look forward to your other works, good sir!

>>27448
I do want to add that the twist tickled my enjoyment for 'that shouldn't have happened' thanks to all the build up that occurred. It also helps that I also thought there was some chance to get out of it and had forgotten the rules along with Haley.

>>27448
I'm aware that this may border on seeming obsessive, but I'm the sort that thinks of what to say long after the fact. And then the thought sticks in my head until I get it out.

Anyway, I wanted to mention that one of the reasons I enjoyed this one over the other Phil Phantom tributes was because this one did more showing and less telling. Your other PP tributes tend to have more telling, talking about sexual things in a matter of fact manner in the past tense (Reality Checks is a good example of this). Personally, that's not very sexy to me. Whereas with Countdown, I like that you take the time to expand on and show the key moments where Chloe takes another step in helping or watching her daughter become a sexual being (with one exception of a mentioned use of dildo for oral use). Examples of this being when she starts making the milkshakes, then gets Alice involved in making said shakes. You tell about Haley's own sexual exploits, but that's fine here because the focus isn't on her, but on what Charlie is trying to do with Alice. Again, a little bummed that we didn't get to be there for Alice's impregnation, but I appreciate what you took the time to show.

It feels like it's been years since there's been any updates. Has the author quit?

>>27633
He's writing (slowly) like 15 different stories & finishing none of them on pomz livestreaming

Yes, I'm still here. Haven't been writing as much as I'd like, for various reasons, but that doesn't mean no writing's been going on.

ASSTR disappearing again has been a blow as well, but I have secured a backup place to host my work, at least for the time being. ASSLR is still in development as a replacement, and not fully open yet, but a few authors like me have sites there. And, as a new project there's always the possibility it'll just disappear one day, but, right now, you can access all my old stories at http://anonympc.asslr.org and I have the ability to post new work there as well.

Which, right now, is just this Phil Phantom Tribute. And it's timeline, Halloween themed! Sort of.

This is based on an idea Danaume's shared with me, and she even did some art to inspire me on her pixiv (but it's back some distance in her gallery, which gives you an idea of how long this idea's been percolating).

But I'll get started posting:

The Halloween Dolls - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC

The Halloween Dolls - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (various MFfmgb combinations, mc, body transformation, ws, cosplay, inc, best, assorted others)

'What's with all the spooky decorations?' Ha, that's a good one! Here's your coffee, with fresh milk, and a few complementary candies.

You're serious? Really?

For the festival.

If you're not here for the festival, then why'd you want the room for the whole week?

Well, if you picked a town at random, you've got the world's best timing, or maybe the worst. Every place in town is usually booked up months in advance... there'd be no room for you at all if my usual boarder didn't die of a heart attack last month. His fee was pre-paid, non-refundable, so I wasn't exactly hurting financially, but Manny knows I like a little help and company during the seasonal rush and must have thought he was doing you a favor, sending you my way.

But if you're not one of our usual tourists, and you're really just on some random road trip with the idea of a nice quiet small-town vacation... then you've got the devil's luck. Which kind of makes you fit right in here, I guess. Maybe it was Fate he sent you my way.

You're sure you haven't heard about our town before? Not at all? Not a whisper, a rumor?
Oh, dear. I hate to say it, but you... might want to think about spending that vacation somewhere else. There's no good fishing in the area, and we don't allow hunting--we're protective of our wildlife. This town's basically got one attraction, and you might find it a little... disturbing. I mean, unless you've got a really open mind.

Well, we're kind of a 'True Crime' destination. Kind of.

Where do I start? You asked about the decorations, so that's as good a place as any. You see, our town's got a particular relationship with Halloween. Some towns spend October getting it ready, others might start in September, but for us, Halloween sticks with us all year long. Not entirely by choice, but sometimes when things happen that you can't control, you just have to lean into them. Set the boundaries ourselves, you know? So we have one festival a season, where we put up the spooky decorations again, have events, meet and greets, and for all the kids that are participating, pass out candy and everything.

You happened to pass through right in time for our Summerween festival... and even though we're booked up pretty solid, the rest of the year nobody within 50 miles would rent a room to you at all. We try not to welcome strangers except during festival seasons... you might even call us downright unfriendly at those times. It's just that we don't want people we don't know spending much time here. So we take the decorations down, have a curfew, even set up roadblocks, where we can. The goal is to be as subtle as possible... because our kids, well, they can be anything but.

Okay. How do I explain?

As you probably saw, we're an easy town to drive through without stopping, even easier to miss entirely. Out of the way. Most of the people who find us worthy of lingering are specifically looking for us, and we don't even want those people most of the year. Ordinary people, though, that's where things get complicated. Because if you're driving through at the wrong time of day, the wrong part of year, there's a chance you'll look out the window and your eye will be caught by a blonde sixteen-year-old girl walking down the street in a tiara and wearing a frill princess outfit and think, "Oh, cute, she must be going to a costume party." If you didn't look closely, you might leave it at that, drive on.

That's our best case scenario, that you drive on, that you don't do a double take, notice that between the puffy sleeves the pink princess top is actually a loose fishnet that you can entirely see the outlines of her breasts and areolas through. Or spot that the front or back of the dress is cropped so short it would count as indecent exposure if she didn't wear underwear, and she's definitely not wearing underwear. Of course, it depends on exactly which dress Princess Mackenzie was in the mood for that night, but a lot of them are distinctly inappropriate in one way or another. If you catch onto that, then we have to hope that you just think she's a young looking whore with a gimmick.

If you kept your eyes open (and who wouldn't at that point) you might notice other girls out there on the side streets, in pirate costumes or vampire costumes, usually just this side of decent but still showing far more skin than a young girl should and sometimes practically nothing at all... and you might start to wonder about this town.

You'd be right to, but let me tell you, before we started doing the seasonal festivals, managing the problem, these kids and the kind of people they attract were even more brazen. A tourist might see one of these costumed harlots going door to door as though it was Halloween, except, unlike Halloween, completely unsupervised and sometimes they'd just disappear into the house and not come out all night.

I guess that sort of thing happens in other towns on Halloween too, but there it might be a scandal, a tragedy. Could you imagine a little girl going out Trick-or-Treating and not coming back home at the end of the night?

Our town couldn't, years ago. Until the girls started disappearing. And it was a legitimate nightmare, at first. You might even have heard about it, if you really search your memory, since it was a bit of a brief media sensation around a decade ago. The Halloween Kidnapper. Two little girls in one night, just poof, gone. We're a small town, but a safe town... not quite small enough where everybody knew everyone, but you at least knew and trusted the people close to you. On Halloween, sometimes one parent would supervise a whole group of kids, and it was usually fine. Only one year, somehow, a girl from two different groups just... went missing. Nobody saw anything, nobody had any leads, just two sets of parents absolutely devastated.

To the other parents in town, it's just one of those nightmares you experience from afar and thank your lucky stars it wasn't you. The world's a messed up place and child kidnappings can happen even in a place like ours. If we'd caught the guy, or even if we didn't and it was just a town mystery, we might have become an actual 'True Crime' destination, made a few extra bucks off a singular tragedy. Except something happened, something you probably didn't hear a lot about. The real miracle of our little town.

That's that the girls reappeared the next April 1st. A lot of people, when somebody related the news, thought they were experiencing a particularly cruel April Fools joke. The parents just thought it was a miracle from God. Neither was entirely accurate, although some people claim both points of view have some truth to them.

The two girls, nine-year-old Lauren and eleven-year-old Tabitha (though she was ten when she was taken) just knocked on a door in town, in costume, and said "Trick-or- Treat" like they had only been gone a couple hours. Only they didn't look exactly the same.

The Halloween the girls went missing, Lauren was dressed as a vampire, Tabitha like a cat, playing on her family nickname "Tabby-cat." The 'last seen wearing' descriptions in the missing persons reports might have sounded ridiculous out of context, but it WAS Halloween, and they were taken in full costume. Both were in fairly conventional outfits, too, or at least they were when they disappeared.

Tabitha's was mostly home-made, an orange leotard painted with tiger stripes and with a tail sewn on the back, black whiskers in greasepaint on her face, and a cat-eared headband. Lauren's was store-bought, you've probably seen a dozen costumes like those, generic little girl vampire. Black and dark purple, like a goth princess puffy-sleeved dress that extended down to her ankles, and a choker just an inch or two above the collar of the dress. To set everything off, she of course had red lipstick with a little blood trail to imply that she'd just fed, and, if she opened her mouth, you'd see plastic vampire teeth. High heels were part of the description too, which she was a little young for, but for a costume, it was considered okay, even if you could barely see them under the long dress.

Upon their return, they still wore outfits matching those chosen personas, but they weren't the same costumes, stylings... in fact, both now looked less like kids Trick-or-Treating as they did underage porn stars who happened to have professionally tailored outfits and makeup jobs.

Lauren's was probably tamer by comparison, passing almost for decent. The dress was converted into a skirt and bodice, and now you couldn't miss the high heels. Or the spider-web stockings, which if they were part of the original costume nobody would have known, but now you couldn't miss because the skirt ended well above the knees where the stockings ended. And there was still most of her pale thighs visible before you got to the hemline of the skirt. In fact, that began just about where there stopped being any space between those upper thighs, if you take my meaning. Just a little stretch or bend and you'd see her underwear. Which she was wearing, but it, too, was thoroughly inappropriate for a nine-year-old. Even if you might forgive the thong in the back, the front was just an elaborate stylized bat that hung over but left the crotch open to show off her hairless slit. If you looked really closely you might see two dots there on her mound, like bite marks, but those were tattooed on, and that night I don't think anybody noticed... I'm only mentioning it to show off the perverted attention to detail. Or attention to perverted detail.

Up top, starting just above her belly button, there was a mini-bustier top, black and purple, with a bit of a corset styling, which seemed only for aesthetic purposes because it didn't cover anything that should be covered on a girl, not even a belly-button. If it wasn't for how everything was elaborately custom fitted you might think it was a mistake that the cups ended just below her nipples, showing them off rather than covering them. The black collar remained, the only actual piece of the original costume that returned with her, albeit with a bit of costume jewelry added, a red gem sewn into it, to gain attention if the outfit itself didn't.

Remember how I said Lauren was the tame one? Well if that shocked your conscience, think about what someone like that did to a girl dressed as a kitty. She still had cat ears on a headband, and there were gloves that mimicked tiger paws, and big fluffy paw shoes as well. She also sported a long fluffy tail that trailed behind her. Otherwise, Tabby was pretty much buck naked, although you might not notice from a distance, since she still was orange and striped. That was a combination of creative spray-tanning (since, on the front of her body, only the arms and legs and some of the face had the tan effect) and tattooing (the stripes and whiskers, which persist on Tabby to this day), and the sheer unexpectedness of an eleven-year-old wearing nothing on an April night and wearing a butt-plug. I mean, how do you think the tail stayed on? No, easier to assume it was a leotard again, or maybe body paint, the tail attached in some less-lewd way. In fact, although nobody admits to seeing the girls before they showed up at that first door that alerted the cops, Tabby possibly could have walked down the street like that without anyone really suspecting... especially because her nipples were pale and faded into her skin, and her pussy was the type best seen from the back rather than the front, where the dangling tail usually covered it. From the front, you might just think she was wearing clothes with a little wrinkle, unless she was old enough to be growing pubic hair, which would have probably been a dead giveaway. Some girls are at that age, but, like Lauren, Tabby had no actual hair below her neck at all... which proved that even if they were abducted by a sick pedophile, they were at least well-groomed.

Sorry, that's a joke. Bad taste, perhaps, but when you live with horror, you've gotta adapt, even extract some fun of it sometimes, just to stay sane. That's part of what the whole festival thing's about. Because otherwise... I mean, how do you deal with girls returning like that? Dressed up as sex-dolls, knocking at some random citizen's door with pumpkin-shaped buckets, asking for candy like it was still Halloween? If they reappeared--even dressed as they were--sobbing and scared and begging for their parents, that you could cope with, but they wanted candy, and they wanted to be 'played' with.

They made it very clear what that meant. If people were reluctant with candy, or even if they did come up with something sweet and yet didn't respond to the offer to play, Lauren would lift her skirt to show that lewd underwear, and Tabby would get on all fours and wiggle her tail like she wanted nothing more than to get her kitty some milk. If people still turned down that offer, the girls would want to move on to another house. They hit three before the cops showed up... or at least, three who turned them down, one who refused to give them candy, two who gave some in the hopes of getting the girls to stay while the cops came, but if the candy didn't come with sexual touching, the girls were ready to continue their out-of-season Trick-or-Treat. Some insist that before these officially reported instances the girls also knocked on a few doors where there were men who were more than willing to play with lewd little girls who only wanted candy--Lauren wanted a little more, but candy was still the icebreaker. I personally don't believe that anybody gave them the full Trick-or-Treat experience they seemed to be after. A town like ours, two high-profile kidnapped girls at your door... even assuming a secret pervert it was just too weird to do anything but call the cops and hope they didn't think you were involved.

Nobody doubts that those girls made those offers though. We've all gotten those offers at one point or another, it's lost its shock value. But back then, man... imagine how we reacted? These girls were gone for five months and once they were freed, they didn't want to go home, they wanted to go door-to-door for candy and cock.

Clearly, the girls were heavily groomed, in both senses of the word. Brainwashed. Maybe even broken, psychologically. In some ways their return was a hell of an April Fools prank... on the whole town, really. Because the physical changes were only the beginning, and even those weren't always as clear. Word quickly spread about the tattoos left on their bodies, how both of the girls' teeth were sculpted--more like vampire fangs for Lauren, animal teeth for Tabby--but some of the others we only discovered months or years later. Physically, take away the costume and they still looked pretty close to the little girls our town lost five months earlier, but inside, they were different... in the time away, the person who took them had somehow changed them, right down to the core.

Asked about the time they were gone, the abducted girls only had very hazy memories that didn't seem to give police any useful details. They reported, without much detail, stories of being taken to Fairyland, where they were 'changed' into their 'true natures' but pressed on any detail they seemed to lose track of the narrative, like it was a dream. In terms of memories, everything from before that seemed to be intact... they joyfully reunited with their parents, asked casually about their friends, remembered their most recent school lessons when pressed, and knew pop-culture. As for their personality, from what I hear they seemed more or less like their own selves, not obviously traumatized... at least until you stumbled across the new convictions they came back with, ideas that nobody seemed to be able to shake, no matter how absurd they were. Both girls now insisted that their purpose was to be sexually used, and, perhaps, more bizarrely, that their costumes weren't costumes, but rather reflected who they were, inside. They didn't need to wear the particular costume they returned in, but they were intensely bothered if they had to wear something that didn't make them look like a vampire or a cat, respectively.

Imagine you were one of those parents... you're just getting over the shock that your child's returned, coping with the fact that she was probably molested... only to have the psychologist tell you that your daughter not only thinks she should keep getting molested, but also that she's decided to base her whole identity, maybe for the rest of her life, on the costume she chose the last time you saw her?

More-or-less, anyway. If, that Halloween she was taken, Tabby was Trick-or-Treating at your door and you asked what she was dressed as, she'd have said "I'm a cat!" On her return she didn't insist she was a cat, per-se... instead, she was convinced that during her time in Fairyland she'd been transformed into a Catgirl. And that was different, because she could carry on an intelligent conversation, eat human food, use opposable thumbs, as long as she also occasionally lapsed into cat behavior... like meowing randomly when she talked, pushing stuff off tables, or finding odd places to nap throughout the day... and all while also being extremely uncomfortable in clothes. Ever dress up an actual cat in a cute costume? That was basically the attitude Tabby had any time someone put clothes on her, disdain and resentment and maybe a grudging allowance for the behavior but also a determination to get free of the unnatural restraints whenever possible. This got especially awkward when she went into so-called heat, which she did at least once a month, and she'd also climb up on a person's lap, rubbing up against their crotch or shaking her ass in their face.

Now, eventually her guardians got her to the point where she would dress up for school--not dress fully appropriately, but at least be clothed, and the more cat-themed the outfit, the easier it was--but even then, she would still get buck naked at the slightest invitation. Naked except for her paws, ears, and tail, of course, which to her didn't count as clothes, but part of her body, and essential to her need to look like a Catgirl. You could swap them out for different versions, but try to take any of them away from her for more than a few minutes, and you'd have one unhappy kitty on your hands.

Which meant that yes, just to get her to go to school, her parents had to let her wear some kind of buttplug tail full time, dangling out of a skirt provocatively or sometimes during heat the tail pushed aside and the insertion point just aimed directly at the face of somebody who wasn't giving her enough attention. But that seemed like the lesser evil compared to her constantly wailing about her lost tail or paws or the other tantrums that came when anybody tried to remove any of her 'cat parts.' There was one big exception of course... I don't know how she rationalized the difference, but if she was in the bathroom, Tabby could take off any of her cat parts, including temporarily removing the tail for necessary business, without complaint. That didn't necessarily make things easy, though, as she avoided the place unless her need was great, and even been known to piss outdoors if she could get away with it. Her Catgirl brainwashing also meant that she didn't like showering or baths... unless someone was in there with her holding her in place while cleaning her. Usually one parent did that while the other washed her paws and tail before reinserting when it was clean.

Sex was another big exception to the tail rule, which people also managed to get away with, as you could imagine with a girl who got naked freely and sometimes whined about being in heat. The first one who didn't get away with it was the janitor at her summer school, which led to a big scandal... another teacher opened a supply closet and found the two of them, her with her tail out and in her mouth, and him inserting something else in its place. Far from being bothered by the substitution, Little Tabby was on her hands and knees, purring contentedly and a lot less worried than the guy who'd been caught taking advantage of an abused, traumatized girl. Or that's what it looked like, anyway, though the real scandal was her not seeming traumatized and the janitor's defense that the Principal and her own mom asked him to give her orgasms, whenever she was in heat and being disruptive, and said he could take care of himself too as long as it was only in the butt.

He might not even have been lying, was the bear of it, or completely lying. The orgasm part rang true, at least, though maybe he just independently decided--considering how she wore her tail--that even if she was only eleven, it wouldn't harm her much stretching a hole that was used to it. Whatever the truth was, a trial might have embarrassed a lot of people which might be why he somehow managed to flee town before the police came.

Which might be for the best because... as hard as it is to believe, that's about the best thing you can do with a Catgirl in heat. The school chaperone she was eventually assigned when Fall rolled around was given the same instructions. Well, not to satisfy themselves, of course, but to take care of her immediate need as discreetly as possible so she puts on some damn clothes again.

And she was the easy one of the pair. I mean, once we got her to a point where she accepted clothes, and she was trained to use a 'scratching post' at home before school to manage her heats in as delicate way as possible, at least Tabby could still interact in public normally... you'd still have to risk a caregiver taking advantage of her if she was left alone with someone, but at a school, you can make sure she isn't left that way, aside from the chaperone.

Lauren, though, she believed that in Fairyland she was turned into a vampire by 'the Halloween King,' and nothing anybody could do would shake that delusion. In addition to needing to dress up in outfits that looked like a vampire might, she'd scream if taken into natural sunlight, shy away from religious symbols, and could no longer stomach food with garlic in it (and her family was Italian, so think of what a sacrifice that was). She even claimed she couldn't see herself in the mirror! Everyone else could, of course, there was nothing magical going on, but she'd deny being able to see anything herself. And, of course, there was the really big problem... although Lauren could eat normal human food, she claimed that was just for 'the masquerade' and wasn't satisfied with a normal meal unless she was offered a little extra. She wanted--believed she NEEDED--to suck vital life essence from human beings on a regular basis. Except Lauren's abductor added a few twists to the vampire lore. According to Lauren, vampires can survive off any body fluid. Blood, milk, semen, piss, vaginal fluids, cum, they would all do, as long as it was sucked fresh from a living body. Only bad and desperate vampires exclusively ate blood instead of a well-balanced diet. Bad vampires wanted to hurt people, and Lauren insisted she wanted to be a good vampire, so would you please help her by letting her suck something else off you?

Hell of a pitch, especially once it became public knowledge she'd go catatonic if refused too long, until someone stuck something in her mouth that fit with her delusion. Even for perverts, it must have been a difficult decision, because those teeth were real and sharp, and she did use them from time to time. Even her parents had bite wounds from when she got too hungry and wasn't satisfied with the sweat they'd allowed her to suck just to stay conscious, so it must have been a real concern for those perverts, that if they slipped some dick between those perpetually ruby-red lips, she'd decide she'd gone too long without actual blood. Eventually many decided that letting her suck a little blood from a neck or hand while they pumped her little pussy full of cum was a good compromise, then they could safely let her suck out the last few squirts from their dicks and even piss in her mouth afterwards, all in the name of satisfying a little girl's implanted delusion of a well-balanced vampire diet.

Sorry, was that too shocking? I told you you needed to keep an open mind if you're going to stay here. Keep in mind, I'm not talking about a typical nine-year-old here, screaming and crying as somebody uses her tender body to get off, probably tearing something in the process. By the time these kids were returned, their holes were conditioned to accommodate a lot of abuse without complaint. The reverse, even, they enjoyed it, sought it out. I mean, just go out after dark during the festival and you might catch Lauren feeding. Here, helping her is considered an act of mercy--although most of her needs are met already, and after her friends starting having periods she became popular enough that she doesn't even need charity in the form of blood donations--but it's still considered that. If she's hungry, better to help her out, than not.

I assure you, this appeasement strategy didn't come quickly... or maybe it did, but under the radar. In the early days, her parents refused the advice to try and put her in normal school until she abandoned her delusions. Instead, they did their best to keep her homeschooled and content, having a few trusted caregivers but mostly handling it between the two of them.

At the time, it was hard for me to imagine how they coped with her special needs... after first accepting back the daughter whose disappearance broke up their marriage, and pretending to get back together for her sake, they then had to switch to a nocturnal schedule to match hers and start letting her satisfy her vampiric hungers by sucking sweat off their bodies in safe places... or milk from her aunt who was luckily still breastfeeding. Both her parents, and her aunt, seemed willing to suffer occasional bites into tender flesh as the price of helping family, but they could only sate a few of her appetites. Who knows how long it was before Dad noticed how good his little girl was at sucking on his fingers and wanted to feel it somewhere else? Or maybe Aunt Millie had to go to the bathroom while her niece was nursing on her breasts, and decided why get up, when Lauren could just move down and get a treat she was craving? Aunt Millie did abruptly get removed from the caregiver list early on for reasons nobody would talk about, and then reinstated the next month after many assume Mom had a similar revelation while Lauren sucked the sweat off her neck.

I wasn't that close to the family, so I can't say exactly how they dealt with it. All I know is that, after the first few weeks, our little vampire didn't try to go Trick-or-Treating out of season, so somebody was probably molesting her somehow. That was another characteristic of the abductees... they're effectively sex slaves once returned, and to the core of their being they believed they were intended to be sexually used, and also as some kind of Halloween mascots. If they weren't being sexually satisfied, after a few weeks, they'd sneak out, go door-to-door, asking for candy and offering to turn tricks to anyone to give them a treat. And I don't mean they needed to have orgasms, which could be done through masturbation... that might help with Tabby's heats and the outrageous behavior they inspired, but in order to keep these girls happy enough not to want to Trick-or-Treat on some random night a personal orgasm wasn't enough. Or even, as it turned out, required. To be satisfied, all they needed was somebody to be do something explicitly sexual with them. Even nine-year-old Lauren, our Vampire girl. Since she didn't go prowling very much, they must have found some way to keep her at home pretty early. Sure, maybe her parents were just better at locking her down than Tabby's, strung garlic on all the exits. Or maybe they were giving a little more than blood and sweat. Hard to tell from the haunted look when people saw either of them in town.

Now, you'd think this kind of thing couldn't go on with so much media attention surrounding the kidnappings, but there was less of that than you'd think. Sure, the news endlessly reported the initial abductions, and to a lesser degree the returns, but everything else was just a little too weird and salacious to mention--at least when involving preteen girls--and soon reporters drifted away, choosing to focus on stories where they didn't have to risk being accused of pandering to perverts. To most of the world, our town was only known for the cut-and-dry story of a Halloween abduction and miraculous return.

Even when the same thing happened the next year. Halloween night, two more little girls disappeared, no witnesses. And believe me, everybody was taking extra care to watch out for their kids that year, and we had increased police patrols, even some FBI agents as a courtesy, though everybody was assured the odds of the 'Halloween Kidnapper' striking again was slim.

Except he did. This time the media didn't seem as interested in reporting on it. Some people would say it was because this time the girls weren't white, and that may have been a factor too, but I think it was also because making a big deal about the return of the Halloween Kidnapper ('Halloween King' was what the girls called him, but that never really made the mainstream news) would mean following up on the girls from the last case and what was done to them. A few journalists sniffed around but when they learned their bosses didn't want to touch the story--and most of the town didn't want to talk about it at all--most gave up. A few of the lesser-quality tabloids--the kind that report on the President having secret meetings with Bigfoot or aliens agreeing to contact Earth because of the Kardashians booty secrets--ran with something a little closer to the full story--only not without adding some insane elaborations of their own that had no basis in fact--but to most of the rest of the world the disappearances of Tia and Elena were only marked by a simple missing persons report and a lot of very local coverage, mostly focusing on the people who let it happen.

At least this time the parents had some small hope of precedent, that their little girls would be returned.

And indeed they were, again on the first of April. This time cops were out in force, both marked cars and undercover observers, but again, the Halloween King made fools of them... nobody saw anyone drop them off, they were just suddenly reported knocking at a door, in costume. Same plastic pumpkin buckets, same lewd offers in exchange for candy, different outfits and delusions at play. We were just getting used to a Vampire and a Catgirl and now we had to deal with a slutty Pirate and a Good Soldier Girl who obeyed any order.

Tia was fourteen, and she's the one who chose to be a pirate for Halloween. Not a pirate captain, mind you, which might be important to how she was eventually programmed. If she'd had the classic captain's hat, she might have turned out differently, or not been taken at all, but she just had a cloth tied around her head, so she was only returned as a Pirate... a sexy pirate, I guess I should say, as she was of an age that girls start to be pushed towards 'sexy' versions of costumes boys would wear straight. But she was only sexy in the tame way teen girls often are, testing their limits, trying to attract boys their own age, and really, she didn't need clothes for that, her own body did it... the costume just helped her stand out. The top she wore was tight fitting, with a lace-up corset over a white top that accentuated her figure while technically hiding her bosom, which were already grapefruit sized and drew the eye if she wore anything tighter than a loose sweater... but a girl can't exactly help her body. She could help how she showed it off, I suppose, chosen some way to express Pirate in her clothing other than by showing off her toned dark legs with a red and black skirt that ended above the knee, or gone with flats instead of leather boots with exaggerated heels which ensured that her butt swayed while she walked... but that's innocent stuff, really.

It wasn't like the outfit made her ooze sex appeal, she was just an attractive teenage girl. Attractive even with a plastic hook over her hand. So, it didn't matter what she wore, guys her age were obviously going to be checking her out anyway. The cute costume just made them stare a little longer as she paraded through the streets... and make jokes about wishing she'd be their first mate. A few that were way too old for her stared too, just being subtler about it, and one of them probably turned out to be the kidnapper--but again, I'm not going to victim-blame like some of the more conservative in town did when she vanished, the ones who said that outfit on that body was already too sexy for a teenager and she was therefore asking for what happened. After all, the other abductees weren't dressed to impress and they still got taken.

Really, I think Tia just didn't expect the danger applied to her. Kids always think they're immune, and she probably just wanted to enjoy what might be her last year for Trick-or-Treating. Despite what happened the previous year, she wasn't the only teenager who assumed she was safe because everyone agreed that those girls were little kids which meant that The Halloween Kidnapper was a pedophile and wouldn't be interested in a girl with a figure that already got adults hitting on her. And anyway, she was out with friends. Except those friends don't remember the moment she suddenly wasn't with them anymore.

The next time anybody here saw her, her costume wasn't actually changed very much. She still wore the red-and-white-striped headscarf, the skirt, the leather bodice, the pirate belt buckle. They might have been replaced by new pieces, but they looked similar. The scarf was wrapped around her hair in the same way, two small afro-puffs that poked low out the back. The skirt might have even been longer than it was before, if you can believe it, although if you got her to pull it up you'd see that she returned without any underwear, the better to show off her booty. If she wasn't inclined to do that, you'd see only one major change... the white shirt top was gone, so it was just her bare breasts under the lace corset, squeezed together, with her dark nipples visible between the laces. Inappropriate for a teenager, but nowhere near as lewd as the first two.

Which wasn't to say she wasn't lewd in ways other than her outfit. Like the other girls, before and since, she returned with a dream of Fairyland and deep mental programming and with some particularities that either filled a sexual niche or appealed to the Halloween King's twisted sense of humor. This time, it seemed more focused on the latter, although Tia does fulfill a niche or two. See, she returned as a Pirate, which meant she acted like she believed she was one, including always speaking in an exaggerated pirate style and overusing nautical metaphors. If you gave her some candy when she went door to door, she'd also consider you her Captain. And Captains had certain rights, such as the right to share in her booty, divvy up pieces of it to anyone in their crew. If Cap'n wanted her to swab a dick, she'd do that too, more grudgingly and with a lot of complaints, but as part of her duties. Other requests depended on her mood and how much loyalty she was feeling, but Tia did have one limit. If someone wanted her real treasure-- which is to say her pussy--you had to do it the pirate way... take it by force, or barter.

I suppose just by denying it, unlike the other girls, Tia did make her pussy something of a treasure, and if you didn't have the balls to rape a teenage girl--who might have secretly liked it, given that she'd patiently wait and let her Captain tie her up first so she couldn't fight back--you still had a shot at the gold if you were willing to give up a piece of your own booty.

Yup, you heard me right. When she was taken, she'd had a plastic hook for a hand, but when she was returned, the Halloween King changed things up and instead gave her a custom crafted third leg for pegging. Not just pegging, I guess, since she used it on girl captains as well. Probably that was even her preference--she was openly bi before she disappeared--but she didn't choose her Captain and girls didn't often have the experience of asking to fuck her pussy and seeing her reach below her skirt and making a surprising counter-offer. That was the only kind of barter she was interested in, letting her use her toy. The dildo was several inches long and strapped to her leg, and I suppose it counted as a hook too, since one end was curved back on itself. The thing was designed to slip inside her pussy and stay in place to stimulate her while she penetrated somebody else, but it was the act of fucking someone else that seemed to be what she really got off on... and a lot of guys did as well. I've never tried it myself, you understand, but I hear a lot of men chose to take a pegging and liked it so much they never got around to trying out Tia's treasure hole. Filling a niche, as I said, some guys liked being dominant, the others submissive, and that April Fools those girls showed up offering whichever taste you were more into.

Yeah, Elena was a soldier girl, and looked tough as nails and ready to kick your ass if you got fresh, but... Good Soldiers follow orders, don't they?

Now, understand, she was the first of these girls that I knew personally, more than in passing. Manny--you remember him, he told you about this place... he's her father. We've been good friends for decades. And little Elena... I've known her since she was born, watched her grow up, except that one notable five month gap. That happened when she was twelve, and I had a front row seat to the tortured months that followed. If Manny didn't have another kid to think about, and the hope that his daughter would return in April, I dare say the guilt would have become too much to bear.

Manny was with her when she was taken, you see. The last thing he remembered was sitting down on a bench to check her candy, and then she was gone. And in addition to the pain of his daughter being taken, he probably got the worst of things, early on, as a suspect. His background in the military was, for many people, the only explanation for how someone might have abducted so many people without warning, the worst insisting he was callous enough to take his own daughter just to divert attention. But I knew Manny, and I never bought it, even before it was conclusively proven that he was out of the country during the first year's abductions. Until then, town gossip was centered on him and was merciless. They didn't know him like I did... he was clearly broken up by how his girl disappeared under his watch, and even the idea that she might be returned bothered him, because he was the one who chose her costume... or at least vetoed her other ideas until she finally relented and let him dress her up in old army gear.

I wasn't the only one who had faith in Manny, but a number of his other friends subscribed to the other dominant theory, that Elena could have just run away... or rather both girls had, and it was just a coincidence that two girls disappeared on Halloween, again. Sometimes I wondered myself. I didn't know Tia personally, and according to the people who did, she didn't have any obvious reason to split, but was old enough that people could easily invent some. As for Elena... well, she was already a problem. See, I love Manny like a brother... I spent a lot of time those five months, bringing him food and just sitting with him. I regularly reassured him that what happened wasn't his fault, but... he was a bit of a hardass. His daughter was already starting to bristle against his parenting style, just like his son had during his early teen years. After years of the two of them butting heads following the death of the kids' mom, he finally sent his burnout eldest son to military school, which left him with the previously straight-A daughter he never had to worry about. Only, wouldn't you know it, little Elena started rebelling right on schedule--or maybe a little early--when she hit twelve. I don't know what's normal these days, my daughter's not really the rebellious type, but he'd gripe to me about the times she'd gotten in trouble at school for skipping class, talking back to teachers, smoking in the bathroom and other behavioral issues and it certainly seemed like she was trending in a bad direction. The school year had barely started before she got a suspension. The summer before that, I'd witnessed several arguments between Elena and her dad, because she wanted to be allowed to do more stuff with boys--not necessarily dirty stuff, but like being able to go to a movie with a friend who was a boy--which Manny thought was a slippery slope. I tried to tell him many times that he was only pushing her to rebel more, and maybe he would have changed his approach if not for her disappearing on Halloween and removing the need for the military school threat... because his daughter returned as the perfect little soldier girl.

For some rough approximation of a soldier girl, at least. She certainly didn't look ready to storm Fallujah or anything. There was no body armor and she didn't carry any weapons, but, at first glance, she did look like a girl who's parents sent her to a school that imposed a strict discipline and then, when she finally got out she rebelled by walking the neighborhood in bra and short shorts.

That was all she wore that first night back, camo-printed sports bra and shorts, lace up combat boots, and dog tags (which gave her the number 69 and listed her religion as 'Halloween'). For a girl that usually wore a dress and always seemed to prioritize being pretty and girlish, she'd changed dramatically, and it wasn't just the outfit. Her whole bearing was different. Hell, if everyone wasn't already expecting her to return that night, I bet she could have stopped by the diner near the school and none of the other patrons would have recognized her as the girl who went missing months ago. Even I had to take a second look when I saw her again... it was just so difficult to reconcile the girly-girl I remembered with this tough tomboy I saw before me. Still pretty, mind you, but in a different way. Harder-edged. The long hair she'd always been known for was replaced by a pixie cut with some undershaving. Her bare arms and legs were far more toned than they'd ever been before... not outrageously so like a weightlifter or the Pony, but enough to shock those who knew her. Elena was never known to be sporty, and so she was soft with lingering baby fat, but now... a little leaner, a little meaner. As if during her five months away she'd been doing push-ups and other exercises on a regular basis, which was itself out of character for a girl who used menstrual cramps to get out of gym class even before her horrified discovery that they were a real thing.

Like the other girls though, the real changes were mental, and to match with her new Good Soldier identity, she was disciplined, standing straight at attention when the door was answered, and, most troubling of all, she obeyed orders of a superior officer with a 'sir-yes-sir.' Or "ma'am-yes-ma'am" if it was a woman who requested that form of address.

I suppose what was actually troubling was what kind of orders she'd be willing to follow, along with exactly who she considered her superior officer. Just like Lauren's grasp on vampire lore wasn't exactly traditional, Elena had a very specific view of what counted as the chain of command that opened her up to sexual exploitation.

Mostly, she'd follow the orders of her current owner, or C.O. as she referred to them. That she had someone she considered an owner was troubling enough, but it seemed like all the returned girls had someone they submitted to first and foremost. When I visited, she referred to Manny as her C.O., and I didn't yet know what the acronym meant, or enough about the returnees to even worry about what that might imply. I just noticed that she was listening to him. Every request he made of her--to leave the room while we talked, to make me a cup of tea--she jumped into action. I even thought she might be mocking him, at first, with her responses, but she went too far above and beyond the call of duty. It wasn't just a girl exaggerating compliance and following every directive to make some point, but also actively volunteering to do anything that made his life easier. A Good Soldier indeed, and I marveled at his luck.

It wasn't as good as it sounded, because I eventually found out that--in the absence of her C.O.--Elena would also follow the orders of any military officer, policeman, or teacher put into authority over her with the same diligence. And it didn't matter what those orders were. "Drop and give me twenty." Sir-yes-sir. "Scrub the bathroom with a toothbrush." Sir-yes-sir. "Pull up your top and show everyone those little boobs." Sir-yes-sir. "Strip naked and spread your ass-cheeks." Sir-yes-sir. "Give me a blowjob and swallow every drop." Sir-yes-sir. You say jump on your cock, she asked how deep.

Most of those orders weren't given in public, mind you, but she would obey them... and, if they weren't from her C.O., she'd report them to him later. Manny eventually confessed that some of the police officers had pushed the limits... maybe not intentionally, but one asked her to take off the shorts and bra so they could analyze it and she stripped down before they could turn away and give her a chance to do it in private. Sir-yes-sir. Others then made her do more menial tasks like polishing their shoes, doing jumping jacks, possibly not realizing they'd be caught when she reported back to her C.O. but if they did anything outright abusive, Manny didn't share it with me. He gave me authority over her for a few minutes while he went out for a smoke, just to see for myself. I didn't abuse it, but I gave Elena a series of silly orders, and every one, obeyed to the letter. One, I told her not to tell anybody about, just to see what would happen.

She didn't report it. Until he specifically asked for it. Which was something, but I could start to see Manny's worries, and how this was more of a burden than a curse, a soldier girl who would follow orders.

Which isn't to say she always liked the orders. I could tell she thought the ones I gave her were useless make-work, and I'd later come to learn that she sometimes complained about orders she didn't like outside of the earshot of any superior officers. She was still human, just a human who now had a deeply ingrained sense of obedience.

To those in the chain of command, anyway, and even then, there were restrictions. Certain requests would only be responded to with a recitation of some short stock phrase about how soldiers are required to refuse illegal orders. Considering she was a minor, anything sexual should definitely have counted as illegal orders, but no, in Elena's mind, that was totally fair game and was in fact the one type of order she never seemed to complain about. No matter how degrading it was. Hell, I'd later come to find out she seemed to enjoy it more when she was ordered to do something sexually degrading... it didn't show on her face, but her pussy sure slicked up something fierce when she was ordered to perform as a latrine... although maybe that was just at the knowledge she was serving her country. County, anyway. Maybe deep down just her cunt.

Her hard limits were few, but they were there. What qualified were mostly orders that that threatened her life or harmed an innocent noncombatant (albeit with a definition of harm that excluded non-violent sexual activity, even if it was with another minor).

Honestly, maybe the world would be much better if more soldiers were like Elena. And, with the right C.O., her new aptitude for total discipline could still take her far. Ellie's stopped smoking, and is a straight-A student again, because her brother makes her study before they fuck.

Yeah, her older brother is her C.O., and he does fuck her. He came home from military school when she first disappeared, and when she came back... well, it just made sense. See, her chain of command has some peculiarities. Basically, the Halloween King always came first--metaphorically, since we never actually saw him but he still gave her standing orders about how to behave that could not be contradicted. Like that she had to live in town, that she couldn't cum without an explicit order... and that orders to refrain from sexual activity could last no longer than eight hours unless refreshed. So clearly she needed a C.O. who could repeat that order that on a regular basis, but then, if she went too long without being sexually used by somebody, she'd still go Trick-or-Treating for a new owner, just like the other girls.

See, when I said the girls did that if not satisfied, it's a little more complicated than I first let on. Remember, in those five months away, the Halloween King brainwashed them not just to their costume roles, but in the greater role of 'sex slaves.' They had a firm need to be owned by somebody who would use them, and if their current owner wouldn't use them as intended, they'd actually consider themselves abandoned slaves, and go in search of a new master, a transaction that the Halloween King decided should involve candy rather than money. The first person to give one of these Dolls a good sugar rush after they were abandoned didn't just get the chance to satisfy their lusts... they actually became the person the Doll considered their owner.

We didn't twig to that at first because, well, Lauren was mostly being fed at home, and any time somebody broke and gave Tabby some candy, they were so concerned with anybody finding out that they sent her right back home again, effectively giving her back to her previous owner until neglect drove her away again. A similar effect happened on their first night back in town... that first April Fools Trick-or-Treat, the girls were really looking to establish their first owner. It could have been anyone. It just so happened that they always wound up back at home, getting some sugary treat in celebration, which locked in one or both of the parents for that role. For a short time, anyway, unless they were ready to molest their newly returned little girls.

Most weren't, those first few years, and most who would weren't willing to keep them, so there was a lot of Trick-or-Treating. But if somebody wanted to, Tabby would have moved right in and her new owner would have a new Catgirl all to themselves, as long as they gave her proper attention. Tia was the same way, although she called it finding a new Captain, and Elena went looking for a C.O..

Naturally, as things evolved, most families decided it was better to keep ownership within the family, even if it did mean touching the girls themselves. And, like I said, Elena was a special case, with her 'Good Soldier' role and its special rules regarding the chain of command.

The way it worked was, if her C.O. was a military officer, past or present, any higher ranked officer in the same service could countermand his orders, as long as they didn't go against any of the Nightmare King's standing instructions, and Elena would obey. When Manny tried to take the role of C.O., he tried to order his daughter the same way he did before, instructing her not to do anything sexual, diligently repeating the order 8 hours at a time. Only one of her teachers at school was a veteran and, it was discovered, had started playing around with giving her orders too. Started small, made her his class helper, had him making her coffee in the mornings and kept her afterwards to clean up the classroom, things Manny had allowed, but soon this teacher started abusing his authority. Before he was caught he'd escalated to ordering her to sneak out at night and rendezvous at out-of-the-way locations, until finally he got a little too cocky and got caught using her as a human urinal at school. Poor Manny, until then he thought his disciplined approach was finally paying off even without sex, had trusted the teacher as his partner in keeping her behaving, since she didn't report any unusual orders to him... because the teacher ordered her not to, and he outranked her dad.

Worse, that teacher bragged about his little sex slave soldier girl to someone he trusted who was still in the military, shared his prize, and the grapevine moved pretty fast. Even once he was gone, guys from the nearest military base who'd found out out about Elena's little quirk had already begun sneaking into town and finding ways to take advantage of our little Good Soldier's patriotism and willingness to serve her country, always with an officer along who rose higher in the ranks than Manny. Little girl got into so many gangbangs with buff Army guys... even got abducted once more, although this time she escaped after a day because he tried to take her to some cabin in the woods. That was when she explained the rules better and Manny figured out the way out.

That was by transferring Elena to her brother Oscar, who had returned home to help out while the Halloween King had her, and the two Reyes men had patched things up, somewhat. Even though he went to military school, he was still technically a civilian, and ultimately the military has no authority over civilians. It didn't matter if someone was a five-star general, they couldn't give her an order to disobey her C.O. if her C.O. didn't have a rank.

Of course, as a Good Soldier, she would still obey most orders from officer, just like she would a teacher-- as long as it didn't conflict with instructions of her civilian C.O.--but without a rank to compare, only the Halloween King could countermand an order not to get sexual or get her not to report something. Maybe the President, if he ever came. Oh, and once Princess Mackenzie came on the scene, Elena took to her as though she were just under the Halloween King in the chain of command. She can, and has, summoned Elena away from her big brother, the Good Soldier giving little more than an apologetic look back while she ran off to lick the Princess' pussy or fuck somebody or some thing for her royal amusement. Mackenzie's the only one to date who's gotten "Yes, Your Highness" in response to an order. She probably could snap her fingers and take Elena permanently from poor Oscar, but luckily the Princess always sends her back to her previous C.O. after she's had her fun.

Which is good, because Elena genuinely seems happy being owned by her brother. He's not like Manny, trying to keep her pure for everybody, or like that teacher who was in it only for his own sexual gratification... Oscar seems to know just how degraded she needs to be to really feel she's serving her country, and truly cares about her. He puts most of the money she earns for him away in an account for her future just in case she ever stops playing the Good Soldier.

Yeah, we've had to get pretty accepting of what these girls have become, and what people will do to them. You might judge, but... we're kind of in a tough place. I bet I already know what you're thinking. Why would we keep celebrating Halloween at all, much less start to do it four times a year?

Well, let me tell you about the year we stopped. The very next year, of course.

Everybody agreed it was for the best... sure, some kids were disappointed, but the town had gone through a collective trauma, and the kids weren't getting any better, and some of us were tearing each other apart over the growing divide between 'make the girls happy and safe even if it means treating them like sex toys' and 'keep doing the morally right thing even if it makes the girls miserable and easy prey for others.' Quietly, all four girls were pretty happy, but not everybody was willing to accept or believe in the sacrifices made to make that happen... and certainly not to admit to it and go to jail like the teacher had. Nor would anyone admit to thinking we should risk more girls. So really, by the time October rolled around, there was an almost unanimous rejection of Halloween, at least locally. You couldn't stop networks from running scary movie marathons or anything, but that whole season we kept a firm line... no Trick-or-Treating, no decorations that could be seen from the street, town-wide curfew including the usual increased police presence that now nobody had much faith in.

Our low faith was somehow still disappointed. Four kids disappeared Halloween Night. This time, it was two boys and two girls, a range of ages from nine to thirteen. Taken from their beds, as far as anyone could tell, but no one knew for sure... there was no sign of forced entry and some people insist they might have snuck out rather than deal with the idea that the Halloween King could strike anywhere, any time. A lot of people were still calling him the Halloween Kidnapper then, or instead used the Halloween Slaver, or even just That Sick Bastard.

We were back in uncharted territory again, because nobody knew what to expect from That Sick Bastard... the last four girls were all returned on April Fools Day, but clearly this escalation was because we angered him, so we were afraid maybe this time they'd just... disappear. There were certainly no costumes to brainwash them into... a few families might have tempted fate and done dress-ups at home, but the ones of the abductees had studiously avoided anything Halloween-adjacent at all... unless you listened to the conspiracy theorists who needed to believe that four separate kids stashed secret costumes and snuck out to do the Halloween rituals their parents forbade, and got punished for it.

That theory went out the window April 1st, because they were returned, but there were no costumes. At all. At least we did get those kids back... but, not all the way back, and they showed up at various houses buck naked, except for a bow around their neck with a letter attached.

The letter was from the Halloween King, but those were not the first things people read. Another, more obvious message was tattooed on their foreheads. Here, I think I have a picture of one of these girls on my fridge. Not from that night, obviously, but from a convention my daughter attended with her. Here you go. See, there? It might be a little hard to read, but it says...

"Designated Free-Use Sex Doll Until Age 18
Enjoy at will, any sex act, any time.
Open to all genders, ages, and kinks.
No charge.
Will never tattle."

Hell of a thing to put on a little kid's head, right? Evil enough if it was JUST a tattoo, you could imagine a few people might even try to take advantage of that, and some people only held back by the knowledge that a child probably would tell their parents or friends eventually... except we've all just had two years of experience with exactly how programmed kids could be in five months.

As time went on, that bore out. Those kids never told on anybody, though a few people were caught in the act, or left evidence of the act, but not as many as you'd think. Cleaning up after themselves was also part of the training of these kids. Aside from finding them during or immediately afterwards, the only way we knew people were using them at all was because if three days ever passed with nobody taking advantage of the offer on their forehead, the neglected kid refused to wear clothes until somebody did. By summer, the kids didn't go publicly naked any more, but privately, it must have happened quite a bit.

Whether the people who found them took advantage or didn't, what couldn't be kept secret was what was in the notes tied to them with a ribbon. Each was written in the handwriting of the child, and said, "It saddens me that a town that treated me so well one Halloween doesn't seem to want to celebrate this year. Creating the elaborate costumed Dolls you enjoy has been my way to repay your community, but should dressing up no longer interest anyone, blank dolls are at least easy enough that I can start to make them in bulk. Next year, I might have time to provide even more. I will follow your lead, but hope to once again be your Halloween King."

Outside of the vague dreamlike stories from the abductees themselves, this was the only direct communication anyone in town ever received from the Halloween Slaver--now cemented as the Halloween King in the minds of most of us, just as we quickly adopted the term Dolls to refer to the girls themselves. Also the only hint of a motive behind our peculiar curse--or blessing--if it even contained a shred of truth beyond the implicit threat.

But we got the message. Keep Halloween going as usual, let him try to take a few of our kids, turn them into his twisted Dolls--trained to a specific role with specific rules and specific owners who could control when and where they acted out--or, he'll take even more of them and break them completely. The Free-Use Four even dangled a carrot over our heads, to help the devilish deal go down, since the tattoo and their own testimony insisted that they were Free-Use until they were eighteen... the specificity let us wonder whether the other girls would only be trapped in their roles until that age too.

Of course, by that time we'd noticed that Lauren didn't seem to be getting taller or going through puberty, but it was still years before any of the girls would hit the chronological age to find out for sure if this was just another cruel joke. In the meantime, we had all had a decision to make. Nobody seemed to be able to catch him, even on the night we knew he was coming, so we could either play along with his sick game, or refuse and potentially suffer even more of our children turned into sex dolls.

The town had a lot of discussions about that over the next few months, but, as you can see, we decided to return to celebrating Halloween the next year. A lot of people put forth good arguments on both sides, and some not-so-good arguments. It's kind of sickening, but the fact that two of the Free-Use Dolls were boys probably went into that... as long as the threat was only to our daughters, some people could rationalize it as being acceptable... they could get over a few girls a year being mentally violated and sexually exploited, but to risk a son's future like that was somehow more unthinkable. They'd made similar sexist calculations every time a star football player did something that should have been unforgivable and decided to turn the victim into a pariah instead.

But also, there were the kids themselves. Especially Elena, who was going down a bad path and now polite, respectful, diligent, disciplined... every parents' dream, if you left out the sex. To some parents, a better dream with the sex. Yet the Dolls all did seem to enjoy their lives, sex and all, regardless of their age, and so far, no pregnancies had developed (though we'd come to find that was not a universal rule, but rather depended on the Doll's particular role). They didn't have the kind of outrageous behavioral problems you might expect, but rather mostly seemed kind and well-behaved, except acting out when their needs were denied.

Naturally, a lot of people were hoping enough other people would volunteer their kids to go Trick-or-Treating, so they could keep theirs at home, but who would, knowing that for every family that abstains, your own kids face a greater risk? We talked about paying some of the poorer families out of the town budget to assume that risk on everybody's behalf, and that very nearly happened, but in the end, somebody brought up that famous story "The Lottery," where each year the town would randomly select one person from one family to stone to death for a good harvest. If we treated this as a lottery, and everybody had to participate, it would at least be fair, and a town bonding experience. I think they might have missed the point of the story. Still, nobody was being stoned to death here, and while two kids a year was still an awful high price, that meant there were plenty of kids who would be left alone and have a normal Halloween.

And hasn't this country always made that decision, to risk some kids rather than mess with tradition? If our town suffered random school shootings instead of abductions, death or serious injury instead of being turned into sexual playthings... well, we'd be just like everyone else, relying on thoughts and prayers. Unlike them, we still had a prayer of ending the nightmare for good... all we needed was to get lucky one year, have a cop successfully catch the Halloween King in the act, and maybe we could even undo everything.

The next year, costumes were a lot tamer, and notably fewer in number, since a number of families had moved away rather than agree to participate. We had some new people move in too, but many of them didn't have kids. The remaining parents mostly concentrated on doing whatever they could to minimize the risk, forcing their kids into costumes of doctors, lawyers, business-people, nerds... but there were always a few that went a little outside the box, and, especially among teenagers, ones who seemed to want to tempt fate, either to show off in front of their friends or because they secretly wanted to become something else.

It wasn't a teenager taken this time, though. That was the year we got the Princess and the Puppy. Sisters, Mackenzie, who you've heard me mention, and Kennedy. Nine and ten, respectively. I don't know what their parents were thinking letting them dress up like that, though I guess I shouldn't talk.

I mean, the Princess outfit I can understand. A lot of girls went that route, always a popular costume, and with the Halloween King out there, it made sense. Princesses are associated with purity and chastity, and a lot of parents were gambling that if their little girl was abducted and made a Princess, maybe she'd at least be programmed with something fantasy princesses took very seriously... the need to preserve her maidenhead until marriage. Even failing that, parents could hope for decorum, or quiet dignity for their sex-slave child. None of those turned out to be the case when we got Princess Mackenzie, but you can see how they might think it was a safer choice.

But in a world where we had Tabby the Catgirl, what parent would tempt fate by letting their little girl dress as an animal, unless a part of them secretly wanted their kid taken and turned into an animal-themed living sex doll?

I suppose that's unfair. Maybe they just thought they could prevent it, that they would watch their kids like a hawk. Lots of parents took that approach... they couldn't get out of the Lottery, but they could make damn sure the Halloween King went after easier prey. Both of the sisters' parents did go with Mackenzie and Kennedy to every house, a common pattern, one keeping an eye on the girls at all times, while another watched for any strange vehicles.
Until they both got distracted. Or a little more than distracted, I guess. See, as best as we can figure out, somehow the parents--and possibly the girls themselves, and cops along the way--were drugged or hypnotized into a suggestible state. I mean, this is a guy who knows enough about human psychology to change a child's entire identity and moral system in a few months, is it really hard to believe he could make people zone out for a few minutes when he needed to take a girl?

However he did it, he did it, and the two sisters returned on April Fools Day, only the little sister was holding her big sister on a leash, and wearing a sheer dress that looked more like a babydoll nightie over a clearly naked body, along with a tiara and lots of jewelry. Not costume jewelry, either, which Princess Mackenzie is just as happy to wear as long as it's shiny, but real gold jewelry worth thousands of dollars. Some thought that was an apology to the family, a way to make up for taking both their children, and how extreme he went.

See, Kennedy was taken a little further than Tabby was three years earlier. Sure, they both showed up naked except for fake ears and pawlike coverings for their arms and legs, and in Kennedy's case a collar, but there was a distinct difference. Tabby was a specifically turned into a Catgirl. She preferred being nude, she'd go into heat, and she considered her costumed cat parts and butt-plug tail a part of her, but she could still be talked into wearing clothes as long as she still presented as a Catgirl, and, if she was clothed, she could interact with her friends normally. Part-cat, part-human. Tabby mostly walked on two legs, unless she was going down on all fours for attention. Kennedy seemed like she was just a dog. A Puppy. A girl puppy, certainly, but her new identity didn't include also living a normal human life. She walked exclusively on all fours (sometimes on her knees, sometimes in a weird crouch, depending the speed she needed and how tired she was), would only eat or drink from a bowl, and expressed herself mostly in head tilts and facial expressions. She COULD talk, in a voice that's like a bad Scooby-Doo parody, and generally only when ordered to or if she has a specific need, or to say "Rrick or Rreat." Mostly, she spoke like she was a particularly clever dog doing a trick, like those videos you see of people who've trained their dogs to say 'I love you.' Never to have a meaningful conversation. As a parent to a teen myself I came to know a little about how that felt.

But Kennedy seemed to be happy, in the way only a Puppy could be. If asked if she was happy, she would bob her head and wiggle her butt to wag her tail, and give a flat yes if told to speak in words. Kennedy never gave a description of what happened to her, but Princess Mackenzie's story was that they were taken to Fairyland and her sister was turned into a Puppy because she didn't want to be a person anymore and have to make people decisions and talk all the time. Some people think you can't trust the perverted Princess, but to those who knew the family, there was a certain plausibility to the idea. At least, I buy into the idea that the Halloween King nurtured a seed inside Kennedy far past the point of sanity, as he'd done so many times before, and since.

Mackenzie, before she was taken, was always timid and unassertive, and Kennedy, as the older sister, always had to watch out for her, often had to speak up for her in public, make decisions for the both of them. So maybe a part of Kennedy just wanted to let go and be taken care of, and the Halloween King let her escape that minor frustration into the life of a dog, then made her stay in that role and enjoy it. And, everyone had agreed that Kennedy loved dogs, before. She wasn't allowed one herself but would always squeal and stop to play with them given the chance. Maybe she didn't just love dogs, but deep down always wanted to be one, and that's why she chose that costume and the risk the Halloween King would take her. She certainly wouldn't be the only Doll who did that. Every Doll has a story, and it doesn't just start the night they were taken.

However it happened, Kennedy didn't just love dogs, she was one... although to be clear, she still loved dogs. Sexually, I mean. That seemed to be the niche kink the Halloween King crafted her to fill. Like the Free-Use Dolls, Kennedy wouldn't turn down sex if someone wanted it. Point her face at a spot and she'd lick, and if someone wanted to fuck her, all they had to do was maneuver her the right way and she'd calmly take it... maybe get into it if her partner was attentive or it was her master, but Kennedy didn't seek out the attentions of humans. Sometimes, if her master wasn't involved, and a guy was trying to fuck her, or anyone wanted her to lick, Kennedy might even try to wander away as though uninterested until she was set into position... and then wait until they were done with her. That was her attitude if it was a human, anyway. But put a male, unneutered dog in the same room with her and she would do whatever she could to entice it into fucking her, whether she's alone or has an audience.

If you've never seen a dog fucking an underage human girl before... well, you should try and track down Elena and see if you can order her to do it. Or bring a mutt around to the Free-Use girls. Or maybe take in one of the Clown's shows... she thinks humans taking doggy-cock in one of their holes is a hilarious gag that never gets old. Really, a fair number of the Halloween Dolls dip into sex with animals on occasion, or for the right incentive, but when a dog's humping little Kennedy, you're not really watching bestiality, you're watching a dog fucking a bitch who happens to have a human girl's body. That's how we treat it, nowadays, not dirty, just a natural drive for a doggy Doll. Only, if this Doll's drive isn't satisfied, she doesn't go Trick-or-Treating in the usual way, she specifically goes to places with dogs, looking for a bone. If she's gone long enough without being knotted to be frustrated and you don't get the hint, you'll experience the rare sound of her voice asking, "Doggie pway?" because it's become a need that overrides her usual instinct not to speak.
Or Mackenzie will just ask for her, if they're together. And by ask, I mean demand your dog service her horny dog. Since she became a Princess, Mackenzie had lost the timidness and became very assertive. If the Princess was a Doll with a niche, it was people who wanted to be sexually dominated by a little girl.

I say if, because Princess Mackenzie's always been a special case. Some people say that the Halloween King didn't make her into a Doll at all, just told her it was okay to indulge her inner kinkiness... that he stumbled on someone ALREADY as perverted as him and that's why he crowned her as his Princess. These same people say that she condemned her own older sister to the life of a Puppy, rather than puppy-girl, just for her own sexual kicks... not out of any brainwashing. I don't buy into that theory, considering she was only nine when she was taken, and what nine-year-old is that fucked up?

Still, Princess Mackenzie IS special in many ways. Dolls are taken as kids--fifteen's about the oldest, eight the youngest--and once they're taken they don't usually age normally... a few do, but usually there's some kind of hormonal trick he uses to inhibit growth and signs of puberty. Princess Mackenzie's body's one of the exceptions, continuing to develop pretty well normally... maybe a little bit slower than some of her peers, but within the normal range at least. As a Princess, she also doesn't recognize any owner, which makes her almost unique (aside from the Free-Use Dolls, who you might say are owned collectively). If she knocks at your door, it's because she's bored or horny and wants to demand you assist her as is her right... any candy you might give her is just a bonus. She's also the only Doll (again, outside of Free-Use) who can willingly dress up in other costumes for events like Summerween, because, and I quote, 'A Princess dresses however the fuck she wants.' Granted, even there, Mackenzie usually tends to incorporate her tiara into the outfit, of course... she's far more likely to go as Zombie Princess instead of just Zombie, Spooky Princess instead of Witch, Cat Princess instead of Catgirl, and so-on. Once she was even someone called the Paper Bag Princess, though the flimsy outfit didn't last long before she was just a naked girl in a tiara. So clearly she loves being a Princess... but she doesn't have to dress that way. One time she even dressed up exactly as her older sister (who by then looked much younger). Two puppies at once. Maybe it was a Princess and the Pauper riff, I guess, but nobody confused the two, despite the lack of a tiara, since one only barked and the other told you exactly what she wanted.

So that's the major part of her programming, and what convinces me she's a true Doll... that change from meek little girl to a confident Princess. That could have come without brainwashing, but I tell you, having spent some time with her, she's not pretending. She really does believe she's royalty, and that therefore her every whim should be satisfied, even if that whim is that you should kneel down and suck on her clit because, and again I quote, "A Princess doesn't get herself off." Or she might insist that she needs to ride your cock, or borrow your dog, or that you accompany her back to her castle so she can watch you have sex with your own virgin daughter, depending on whatever perversion interests her at the moment, or what she thinks is best for her subjects. Could be either, if she thinks your daughter really wants her daddy, she might see herself as helping out, or she might just get off on the idea of making you do it while she uses her royal scepter to fuck herself. Our Princess gets bored easily, and we think constant self-stimulation is part of her programming, edging without allowing herself to cum unless somebody assists, and that leads her to weird sexual whims. Still, her demands aren't always perverted... if she snaps her fingers in someone's direction, it's just as often for some mundane thing like to make her a sandwich, change the temperature, clean the pool, or sing whatever song she likes at the moment while she lazily fingers herself. She just takes it for granted that she can demand obedience from everybody in town. Which doesn't mean she gets everything she wants. People around here have gotten very good at using the right deferential language when they want to talk her out of things, and even if people outright refuse her something she's set on... it's not like she takes revenge or anything. She might throw a tantrum, or simply glare at you and say something like, "You'll regret this when the King comes back," but if you hold firm to your refusal she'll eventually go ask somebody else for what she wants.

To some people invoking the King is still enough of a threat to get them to submit to her demands, especially if it was something they secretly wanted to do anyway. To others, the fear that our Princess won't think of them the next time she wants a royal gangbang at her castle is enough to keep them in line even for the trivial requests. Princess Mackenzie winds up getting her way a lot, one way or another, and some say she's been spoiled, but, if you don't cross her, she can be sweet and considerate, and there's no better advocate in your corner. Especially if you're a daughter who wants to fuck her daddy, or vice versa.

We've... kinda stopped having a hangup about incest here. Kind of had to. Not everybody does it, by any means, but we have to accept that it happens, especially around the families who have Dolls, and if nothing seems forced, look the other way. Like I said, sometimes when things happen that you can't control, you just have to lean into them, and that's what these Halloween Dolls have done to us. It kind of felt like a no-win situation, you know? Especially after the Free-Users came in. Either we play along with the perversions inflicted on us, find ways to manage them, or we risk them getting worse. Families can either own the Dolls themselves, sexually use them as they seem to want to be used, keep them or they'll go Trick-or-Treating and seek out new owners. Or keep them locked up tight and let the kids go into a catatonic depression that follows.

Every Doll has a story, and they're all a little different but with a lot of repeating themes. Usually one of parents trying their hardest, struggling to make things work but having to make compromise after compromise, before they eventually end up accepting their new role... or, sometimes, giving up ownership entirely to someone else. The real question is whether they use their Dolls before or after other people in town already have. No matter what we do, it seems like the Dolls are going to keep coming.

A lot of us thought Mackenzie and Kennedy would be the last straw, that we'd cancel Halloween again, that everyone with kids would move out, if they could. Those with Dolls probably couldn't, since that wasn't just a standing order Elena was given, it's another part of default Doll programming. Even Mackenzie seems to have it. Tia's family was the first to try and leave, and so did two of the Free-Use parents, but over the years it's always been the same pattern. Take a Doll out of town, and within two days they'll be begging to come back 'home.' Within a week they'll be willing to run away from their parents just to get back on their own, turning tricks if they have to in order to make their way, and then go door-to-door looking for a new owner. Or, in Mackenzie's case, back to her castle, the old hotel we now reserve for her use except during festival season. It doesn't even matter how much sex she gets, or, for the other dolls, if the owner is still molesting the girls according to their programming, when it happens too far outside our borders. The Halloween Dolls were gifts to the town, and that's where they belong.

Families without Dolls, though... they could have left, at least if they could afford it. And not all of them could, to be fair, but far more stayed for other reasons. Because they were secretly into what was happening, or because it was where their family had lived for so long they didn't know anywhere else. Even if a town's slowly morphed into a nightmare, sometimes it's still home. And you can get used to pretty much any horror.

We did, slowly, as the number of Dolls increased year-by-year. Tourism did as well. 'True Crime tourism,' we called it, but we all knew it was sex tourism, perverts, mostly male, coming in the hopes they could score some alone time with a Doll... feed a hungry vampire late at night, impress a Princess, or just enjoy an underage Free-Use Doll in an unwatched moment. Enough people had seen and heard of what happens here, whispered about it secretly among like-minded perverts, it couldn't be kept a secret entirely... even if the media wouldn't touch the story, and reports online tended to disappear or be dismissed as conspiracy theory or perverted fiction. There's even some kind of quirk where pictures and videos with metadata indicating it was taken in town gets auto-scrubbed from most social media. You can get around it, and there's certainly stuff on the Dark Web, but you can be sure... if something that shows the seedier side of our town starts to go viral, it'll get removed from public sites with the excuse of copyright infringement or something. Must have taken a lot of pull.

Cops, too, mostly stopped interfering with cases involving the Dolls if they weren't obviously hurt, maybe because many of them had been using Dolls directly themselves and didn't want to be implicated if one testified. Same for higher ups. Attorney Generals routinely decided not to prosecute cases involving them, insisting that a conviction would be too difficult since the star witnesses were 'uncooperative.' Too cooperative was the real problem. It seemed like Feds even stopped searching for the Halloween Slaver. At the very least, the task force's budget got cut to the bone, the plans for town-wide surveillance to monitor all streets and traffic in or out of town quietly abandoned.

Some people say that this was because they already did find him, only instead of arresting him they put him to work using those same skills--the tradecraft that let him repeatedly abduct girls despite heavy police presence, and the scientific knowledge to thoroughly brainwash them and make targeted hormonal tweaks that our best doctors still don't understand how he pulled off--all for the government. It could be that even now rival nations are secretly being undermined with custom sex Dolls, or perfect spies getting brainwashed from within the families of world leaders while at school abroad, or elite soldiers given the immune system boosts that keep Dolls healthy. Some insist that the government wanted all these powers enough to deal even with the devil--or maybe the elites who pull the strings behind the government just wanted somebody who could create custom sexdolls for them--and the continuation of his Halloween tradition here, without interference, was part of the King's price.

Makes more sense than the theory that the Halloween King is an alien who beams the kids up and down, that he genuinely thinks he's helping but just doesn't quite understand human sexual rules, and this is all being hushed up to cover up a Roswell-level conspiracy. Or that the Halloween King is actually a literal fairy, that Fairyland wasn't a metaphor or post-hypnotic suggestion or virtual-reality simulation the dolls were trapped in for months as they were being programmed, but a real, literal place where magic exists. There are all sorts of theories, including that this was all a government project from the very start, that our town was chosen to test psy-ops and experimental technologies that we might eventually use during wartime. I go with the lone mad genius idea myself, even though magic or alien technology would better explain some of the biological changes.

Anywhere, where was I? Right, the tourists. Even with all these efforts, enough people do hear the story that some show up. They'd usually pretend to be ordinary visitors, just passing through, but it was hard to miss them paying close attention to children, trying to figure out which ones were Dolls. For years we'd been trying our best to hide the Dolls from public sight, while still following the psychologist's advice and giving them as close to a normal life as possible... all of which was just barely doable as long as they were firmly owned, getting the regular sexual roleplay they were programmed to crave at home. Or in Mackenzie's case, as long as we treated her as a Princess and gave her royal advisors who advised her towards decorum in public while catering to her kinky whims in private. So a lot of the tourists passed by without seeing anything that confirmed the stories. And, at least at first, we'd find some reason to arrest them--after they spent money in our diners or rented a room or something, of course, because people here needed the revenue--and then run them out of town, hopefully before they could run into a Free-Use Doll who would climb into their car and start sucking on request. If anyone did anything too outrageous, like the guy who tried to steal Elena... we took care of them in other ways and soon found cops were just as reluctant to interfere when a tourist just disappeared as they were if someone complained about a Doll being molested.

Towards Halloween, there'd be too much of a spike of tourists to ignore or get rid of. Not even just the kind you'd expect, either--the suspicious single men we'd been trained to look out for--but all sorts, families. I thought after the extreme cases of the Princess and the Puppy we'd have another revolt, either openly or just from too many families keeping their own kids out of the tradition, hoping to skip the Lottery without being noticed, or kids themselves refusing to go. Who'd blame them?
Instead, there were more Trick-or-Treaters than ever. Sure, some people did back out, but between the seemingly eager turnout among locals, and the tourist Trick-or-Treaters, the Halloween King had a lot to choose from. Some of them of course were there innocently, drawn in by online posts some joker made suggesting this was a good family place to spend the holiday... people were told that our town gives away really good candy (and we do, considering who might knock on our door), but I'm sure a few were there hoping the kids they brought would be turned into little obedient sex Dolls. Probably not realizing they'd have to move to town permanently, which is what happened the first time an out-of-towner got taken, some years later. At the time, we all shook our heads sadly at these visiting parents, but on the other hand, even back then I heard more than one local joking that they hoped their kid was taken this time because it would mean a five-month vacation from parenting duties.

The influx of Trick-and-Treaters wasn't just families, though, we also noticed, to our surprise, a lot of teenagers from neighboring towns, showing up on their own, sometimes in costumes that looked like they were daring the King to take them.

I guess that makes a certain amount of sense. Halloween has always been about being somebody else, somebody of your choosing, for a night, and I think for some people, there's a lot of attraction in permanently becoming the kind of person you wish you were without any effort beyond choosing a sexy outfit. Locals do it, too. Like Shelly, a geeky girl, firmly pigeonholed in the 'nerd' category, barely spoke unless spoken to or giving a science fair project, but diligently dressed herself up in the same costume year after year, until finally one year she finally got taken and became the bleach-blonde Doll we call the Head Cheerleader.

Shelly was taken in a three-abduction year and, at fourteen, was a little older than average, so some people insist she's not a REAL Doll but ran away and faked the transformation, but hey, the other Dolls accept her, and she's a bubbly and extroverted bimbo who fucks football players now. Every Doll has a story, and if hers was one of faking it until she made it, I say more power to her, but either way, clearly she wanted to be who she became. And to this day, enough kids who know the risks, seen the examples so far, still go with animal costumes that you'd think there was a secret furry subculture in schools.

The tourists made Halloween for our existing Dolls difficult, but not impossible. Remember, every year, if not physically prevented, our Dolls go searching for a new potential owner on the anniversary of their abduction. It doesn't matter how well satisfied they were, Trick-or-Treating is part of their programming, but we'd developed a protocol. Everyone was supposed to give them candy and send them on their way without accepting their offer, and if your candy was good enough or the Doll horny enough that they started getting aggressive about staying, you only kept them for the night before sending them back to their previous owner. As for the Dolls themselves, in exchange for letting them go out, we'd also managed to limit most of their costumes to inappropriately-sexy-but-not-pornographic versions, and had private events where we distracted the Free-Use Dolls for the night with some volunteers with a lot of stamina. The Puppy, we put in the kennel where she and many of the dogs were happy with that playdate in exchange for us not having to watch out for her on Halloween. As time went on, we had a similar approach with the more blatant Dolls. As long as they got candy and the kind of attention they wanted, it didn't much matter if they actually walked the streets or just went door-to-door in a kennel or a school building, as long as it wasn't home.

So, at least in theory, any innocent tourists were none the wiser. If they saw a girl disappearing into a house and not coming back, for all they knew, that was the family home. The not-so-innocent tourists, well, they mostly wanted a specific kind of transformation for the girls they brought along. In both cases, we didn't warn them about potential consequences of dressing up their kids... odds were against these visitors being taken and Dollified anyway.

For a number of reasons. The Halloween King never told us how he operated, how he chose his Dolls, but we'd noticed certain patterns over the years. One was that the Halloween King didn't seem to like pop-culture costumes. We had more Disney princesses than you could count, but it was only the legally distinct Princess Mackenzie who became a Doll. Almost as though the Halloween King thumbed his nose at law enforcement, but was still afraid of the Mouse and other big corporations slapping a trademark violation suit on him.

Likewise, we had so many Harley Quinn costumes, and even though that baseline outfit is provocative enough that you can't immediately tell if somebody was trolling for their girl to be abducted and transformed into Daddy's Little Monster or if it was an innocent choice that could have had huge consequences, but we never got a Harley to ride. Instead, when the town was finally given the Clown, it was a homemade outfit, face paint, rainbow wig, and purple-and-red outfit that covered her entire body. People begging for the King's attention often dress sexy, but it's just as likely to be a modest costume that attracts his eye... probably more fun to sluttify it.

That's how it was with Zoe, who reappeared on April Fools Day with dyed rainbow hair and topless in baggy clown pants, held up by suspenders that covered her nipples and perky little boob-buds... until the latches popped, as they did at the slightest provocation. Then, the pants fell, and left her 'accidentally' exposed with a look of comic shock on her painted face as people see the faint thatch of rainbow pubic hair matches the drapes. Most Dolls don't have any hair below the neck, but I guess the King makes exceptions for a joke. The joke continues from there.. as the little clown tries to pick her pants back up, her glasses slip off too and she fakes blindness and a few pratfalls to give people the opportunity to do what they want while she takes forever to get dressed again. Hard to say how much of that routine was hers, and how much was the King's, though, because Zoe loves mixing zaniness and sexuality. Since her debut as a Doll, she's come up with a ton of different outfits and gags and Clown routines all by herself, and is always working on more. Sometimes she's got a joy buzzer that triggers a high powered vibrator she's got inside her, or she might come to school in an outfit that's made entirely out of balloons that pop over the course of the day.

She's a lot of fun to watch, though, if you can handle that constant goofiness and jokes that sometimes turn back on you. Someone gives her a creampie, and soon a creampie will be shoved in someone's face. That's a gag that has happened in every possible combination of the pun. Never mind. One of her kinks is performing for a crowd, so if I haven't scared you off and you are thinking of sticking around in town for Summerween, you should try one of her shows in the school auditorium, you can tell them I sent you to get in. It's a variety show, little sexual vignettes, sometimes with other Dolls as guest stars, sometimes just her. She does this great sketch where there's this guy who's supposed to be her boyfriend and wants to have sex, but she keeps refusing him... all while letting other guys fuck her, including the school bully, her dad, a random dog. Then finally, when she's covered in dog cum, he gets down on one knee and proposes with a ring, and she finally relents... only she sticks the fleshlight he's been using at home in her pussy and makes him fuck that, inside her. All silent, except for musical cues... and moaning. Zoe's not a mime, after all, just thinks it's funnier without dialogue. It's all in good fun, though, the boy playing the cuck is Free-Use, so he gets plenty of sex and is even let out of his cock cage. Towards the end there's an audience participation element, where she tries to see how many guys she can fit into her holes at once, the human Clown Car.

Sorry, I got distracted. My point was that the Halloween King seemed to avoid licensed costumes, and that was what a lot of tourists brought. A lot of locals too. In a way, we did wind up getting that divide between the haves-and-have-nots we worried about when we first decided to go back to celebrating Halloween. Those who wanted to make themselves safe could dress their kid up in a professional costume from a store, and those who couldn't afford it and went homemade, well, they took more of a risk.

But costumes aren't that expensive, and a surprising number of families who could easily afford to go licensed and lower their risk... don't. Maybe that's because it's only a theory, and things we'd taken for granted about how things worked have turned out to be wrong before.

Like our certainty that it was only going to be two every year. That was most of the time, sure, but once it was only one, the next year three, as though to make up for it. Four once, but that year a brother-sister pair dared each other into going as Free-Use Dolls--not nude, just wearing a sign--and we've since learned that the King is often willing to take extra to honor the implied request of a kid in his age range dressed like a Free-Use Doll.

Nor did it turn out to be that--outside of Free-Use--the Halloween King was only interested in girls. Sure, that seemed to be his focus, but in more recent years we have had boys turned into full-costumed Dolls. And not just the Doll who used to publicly identify as a boy but because of one Halloween choice we now assume was secretly a girl all along and used a costume she could pretend was a joke as a cry for help, a signal she willing to trade sexual slavery for an openness even parents couldn't repress. That's the story of the Doll we call the Prostitute. We don't know if the choking thing was always there underneath, or a fetish the King implanted, but what we do know is that Billie now lives happily as a girl and is trying to make a hard living in a town where the competition gives out sex for free. If you use her, tip well, she's saving up for bottom surgery but can't help herself from giving most of her earnings to her pimp, and if you want her to cum, squeeze her throat... just don't really hurt her, we're very protective of our Dolls. Better she suffer blue balls than gets hurt.

But that's a girl, and I was talking about boy Dolls. It took a while, but we eventually got Jayden, the Lil Lumberjack, indisputably a boy, taken at eleven, returned to us with the ability to deliver a lot of wood at the direction of whoever he considers his boss or boss-lady. The King must have given him some kind of specialized treatment that kept his body small and young but grew his dick out and gave him the same advanced facial stubble that his original costume simulated with vaseline and coffee grounds. I understand he can take wood as well as he can dish it out, too, if that's your thing.

Then there's the most recent male Doll, our Bad Boy. Dylan, or his parents, were probably going for 'Punk,' but he came back as the Bad Boy... that's his official Doll name, anyway. Far and away the most irritating of the Dolls, in my book. Sometimes we call him the Motherfucker, because if left unsupervised, that seems to be what he's been programmed to go for. A thirteen-year-old constantly hitting on moms and mom-types can get to be aggravating even to interested moms, if his own mother doesn't keep him on a tight enough leash, and it's not just that, he's such a troublemaker. As if it wasn't bad enough the little nutsack is always fucking with my cow and wasting her milk, from what I understand he's also got a habit of bullying other kids at school while trying to up the ante by seducing their moms. Such a cocky little asshole... but he sure turns super submissive when he gets his bare bottom smacked. You can bet Dylan sure does anything he's told, then, after a good spanking by Mommy or Daddy... or anyone they've given authority to spank him. These days, that's a lot of people, his parents just want him kept out of trouble so they let almost anyone who sees he needs disciplining help out... even if they also like to add to the public humiliation of spanking him in front of his friends by making him suck a cock immediately afterwards.

So, not counting the Free-Use ones, there's really only two boy Dolls compared to... I don't even know how many girl ones, but that's enough to break the pattern of people with penises being safe. I'm sure we'll get more in the future. I think the King just goes for girl-presenting forms more often because he finds them more easy to imagine as sexual objects. As if the world doesn't agree, right? I mean, after all, guys dress up as cowboys, girls dress up as sexy cowgirls.

We do have cowgirl Dolls, yes. Two, actually, but the Cowgirl you're probably imagining rides horses from below, if you take my meaning, so I doubt you could compete. I can take you out back and introduce you to the girl they just call the Cow later. Technically, her full Doll name is the Stupid Cow, but I can't go around calling her that, she's my daughter, after all.

Where do you think I got that milk for your coffee? You're actually renting out what used to be her room, since she stays in the barn now.

Look, it's what my Bethany-Anne wanted, otherwise she wouldn't have been dead-set on that costume the year she was taken. And the summer before, for that matter. She's grown up with this threat, and each time she went out for Halloween, we had a long discussion about the risks and her expectations, and she still wanted to choose her own costume instead of letting me choose something for her. I let her because... who plays a Lottery really expecting to win, you know?

And my daughter's hardly the only one who had a specific Doll identity in mind and sought it out. Who doesn't want to be a celebrity? The town Dolls ARE pretty much the closest thing we have to celebrities, especially since nobody here can manage to be a TikTok star or Instagram influencer. Dolls are our local substitute, the easy way to adolescent fame and popularity and the chance to bask in adulation. Even more so, during our festivals, with the Summerween meet-and-greet conventions.

Summerween was another idea of Princess Mackenzie, something she got from some kid's cartoon she liked, an idea to really show off how much this town loved Halloween, and to let kids have a safe Halloween experience where they didn't have to worry about being taken.
Wasn't quite how it turned out, of course. Kids, and their parents, did still worry that this would just be an open invitation to the Halloween King to make more slavedolls, but the idea still took hold and gained enough steam to be eventually approved for other reasons.
Mostly as a way to control the 'True Crime' tourists, who were getting to be a nuisance, and worse, an unpredictable nuisance. Some weeks we might have dozens of men to fend off and arrest before they could hurt one of our kids, or steal time with a Doll, and then for weeks in a row we might have none at all. There are things you don't think about until you're faced with unpredictable demand. Like the diner by the school... before it became known to tourists because many of the school kids walk by their front window, it was known for its BLTs... and it still is, but how much lettuce and tomatoes do your order and risk letting go bad if no one shows? At least bacon you can freeze.

And because perverts didn't often announce their intentions in advance, people who'd come to rely on a little extra income renting out rooms to men 'just passing through' had no way to know if they'd get that money when a bill was coming due, or if somebody else would snag the potential renters before they could. However, during Halloween it was always a reliable boom that everyone could plan for. If we had a second Halloween festival, the thinking went, we could funnel the summer perverts there, raise prices across the board because of the demand, and also try to keep the town safe and normal the rest of the year. Or as normal as possible. The quarantine strategy.

It mostly worked... of course we always have a few people trying to cheat the system, renting out rooms in the off-season when we technically don't allow it--always to people they claim are visiting family members, to avoid the ban, even though they bear a suspicious lack of resemblance--but they're the minority, and otherwise the Summerween festival's been working pretty well for us. Our normal kids got to try out costumes they wouldn't dare on Halloween, and the town made a lot of revenue off both families interested in fun summer activities and perverts interested in the Dolls. The latter started to draw more and more of the focus, of course, since most of the tourists who hear about us at all are here for that, so we leaned into it.

Summerween Night is mostly for the normal kids... the Dolls still go door-to-door, if their owners allow them, but it's not a need, and they try to be extra discreet about it, not making a big deal in front of their peers. That's because for the whole the week before, the event is Doll-centric. That's when we have our big private convention... for many, the real Summerween draw. Considering how thoroughly we're kept out of the media and online discourse, you wouldn't believe how many come to get autographs from their favorite Doll, or book personal photo sessions... photos they often can't show anybody anywhere else in the world without a risk of life in prison, but hey, that's on them. And we do stage shows for those who've never seen a girl with a horse, or a puppygirl having a knot-a-thon, or just a really entertaining Clown. Just remember, it's not all about getting off, we try to keep it a fun, light convention. No masturbating on the con floor or in public in town... if you can't control yourself, pay for a few minutes in the Glory Hole Hall to relieve the tension. The Free-Use Dolls may not charge for their services by themselves, but there's no reason we can't make a few bucks controlling access to where we keep them while the perverts are in town.

We make it a Glory Hole because it's not always the Free-Use Dolls... sometimes a full Doll fills in and we don't want a stampede of celebrity-chasers for a girl just helping out in a crunch. We don't even guarantee a gender. You pay your money, you take your chances, that's what we say.

For the real high rollers who want more face time than the meet-and-greets or a few moments of groping or sucking during a photo-op before they're pushed away in favor of the next in line, or watching a show from a distance and hoping to be called up for audience participation, there's the Win-A-Date-With-A-Doll auctions. Those aren't every year, but usually at least one owner is willing to part with their Doll for a whole night. The bidding gets pretty competitive--and, like almost everything fun during the convention, cash-only--and by now local ATMs are tapped out, so if you really did have no idea about this town you might not have any chance at the big fun, but the convention's still worth checking out for the spectacle, and while you're here, you're always welcome to use the Cow if you still don't mind helping with the milking.

But if one of the other Dolls are more your thing, the Summerween festival goes on the whole week before we start booting people out again and going back to normal, so you'll still have at least a little hope of a random encounter with your favorite Doll, or even the Princess taking a liking to you and arranging whatever you'd like. It's happened before.

Or, since you've already beaten the odds and somehow gotten this room despite not knowing about the town's biggest event, extend your trip for one more day and stay for Summerween Night. It's not normally part of the basic package I sold you, but since I still don't have anyone booked for that night and it's your first time in town, I can give you a good deal. Don't get your hopes up too high, the Dolls' Trick-or-Treat routes are randomized, so it's fair and they don't draw as much attention. Like a lottery. But even if you don't luck out and get a Doll visiting you, you might still be able to convince one of our normal kids for a little sex-for-candy arrangement.

Yeah, I probably should explain that our 'normal kids' aren't necessarily all that normal anymore. I mean, what do you expect? We did our best, but the years of living side-by-side with sex Dolls have taken their toll. Maybe we should have put them all in their own facility, like was suggested, but our local psychologist insisted integrating them into a normal life as much as possible--putting them in normal classes if we could and pressuring them to keep their sexual activities secret--was more likely to make them break out of their delusions. Didn't happen, of course, but it probably was still better for the Dolls well-being. As for everyone else... no matter how hard we try, we've had more than a decade where kids between nine and eighteen had to notice that some of their same-age peers got special treatment... free to violate the school dress code to accommodate their costumes at the very least, and sooner or later most get to see a very young Doll getting to do very adult things and get rewarded for it.

Then there were those who had to grow up watching Mommy or Daddy molesting or outright fucking their Doll of a sibling, just to keep them at home instead of looking for a new owner... and coming to notice how much they enjoy it. Don't you think some of those kids would wonder what's wrong with them that they're left out of the fun, that some parents would try to make things fair?

Not to mention everyone having classes WITH Free-Use Dolls. Normal Dolls are bad enough, but at least with them you have to deal with their owners or be sophisticated enough about sexuality to work around the programmed exceptions... but think about those classes that had one kid who everyone knows could provide no-risk experimentation... if you could get them alone. Limited experimentation, anyway, which we did our best to minimize without limiting their ability to socialize.

The best psychological advice we had was still that it was better to let the Free-Use kids attend school just like the other Dolls. Better for their well-being, and easier to supervise in a group... but we couldn't just let them run wild among normal children and a variety of adults. These Dolls didn't have an owner who could tell them something was only okay at home, and never said no or tattled. Without any complaint, they would sit back and let a curious classmate sitting beside them reach out and play with their privates. So as you can imagine, the moment a teacher's back was turned, we knew some would try, and so we did our best to prevent that possibility.

It came as a surprise to me until it was brought up at a town council meeting, but there apparently are suppliers of child-sized chastity devices out there, and I voted for the proposal to use the public safety budget to acquire some. After all, it did seem to be a prudent step if we were going to let them go out in public and attend school. Some proposed we make it a part of the school uniform, or at least expand it to all the Dolls, but that measure didn't pass... good thing, too, because it's such a niche industry that even just our orders for the Free-Use Dolls caused supply chain problems and weeks of delays.

Chastity devices have their own problems, too, and although you could lock a chastity belt on a girl--or a mini-cock cage on a little boy--if they were high risk, you couldn't exactly block access to their mouths or hands, at least without not making them look like the weird fetish objects they secretly were. That would defeat the whole purpose of 'give them as much a normal life as possible.' So adventurous kids could always get a Free-Use Doll to touch them... but that took more guts, more privacy, and, small mercies, Free-Use Dolls never initiated sex, at least if it was longer than three days since they were last used. If you covered up the invitation on their foreheads with makeup, blocked off access to the most taboo bits, and hired more classroom monitors, we could limit that risk.

But only so much. Sure, because of that constant temptation, we chaperoned the Free-Use Dolls more than anybody else--double chaperoned if we had the manpower, because a single chaperone was more likely to take advantage themselves, especially while removing the chastity devices for bathroom business--but kids are kids and over the years a fair number of middle schoolers and even some elementary schoolers have had some kind of secret early sexual experience with a Free-Use Friend. Sometimes another Doll, or the Princess.

And for anyone who's still curious about sex by the time they reach high school, there's always our Head Cheerleader... now, her official owner is whoever's currently Captain of the high school football team, and they mostly hold with the established tradition of reserving the Cheerleader's ass and pussy for those excelling in school athletics... but she is always willing to give another student some head to cheer them up, if they book in advance, or luck out at a pep rally.

Add to that sexually charged childhood that fear that started it all and continues to loom over everything, the risk every kid still faced during Halloween, being permanently taken, changed. You can get used to any kind of horror, and sometimes I think one of the brain's best ways to do that is by getting turned on... some natural defense mechanism, just because fear's a little easier to take when mixed with arousal. So maybe you play around with the idea in safe ways, imagine your ideal scenarios were the awful event to happen... and you do it for long enough, the arousal can come to outweigh the fear, at least for certain versions of the horror. That's how cucks and rape fantasies work, I think... probably how a lot of people could start to get off on watching little girls getting sexually exploited, for that matter. And I think it's why kids like my daughter sought to choose the kind of Doll they thought they could live as. Can't stop it, so might as well start getting off to the idea of it, really refine that fantasy about the kind of Doll they wish they could turn into.

Summerween doesn't have the same abduction risk, which made it the ideal way to play with the fear without committing. I think that's why, a couple years into the new holiday, some of our kids started petitioning us to make good on the promise of a Full Halloween Experience that was safe. Not in those words, of course, but that's what it came down to. Some wanted to see what it was like to be a Doll, without actually being a Doll. So that became the second theme of Summerween night. On Summerween--and only Summerween--a minor, with parental permission, is allowed to negotiate deals of sexual-favors-for-extra-candy with the people behind the doors they knock on. You'll know those kids because they carry a pumpkin bucket with a plastic horn on either side of the painted face. Don't trust the costumes... a lot of Summerween costumes go extra provocative too, like they're pretending to be Dolls already, but that doesn't mean any kid who dresses up showing a lot of skin is interested in or allowed to have sex with adults. Some just want to experiment with the aesthetic or dress light for summer, so always look for the horny-buckets before you make an offer or you're liable to hurt feelings. The buckets means they consent to be treated like a Doll and have parental permission, though there's a tag inside that lists hard limits you'd better abide by... usually that includes condoms, but, I tell you, some parents in this town are irresponsibly lax with their kids.

Don't expect every offer to be accepted, either, just because they're horny Summerween Trick-or-Treaters doesn't mean they're actually Free-Use Dolls. All it means is they're open to talking about it. If you do reach a deal, it's okay to be a little rough within those hard limits--trust me, parents who agree to this usually want that in the hopes it'll convince their kids they don't want that life--but avoid serious damage. Remember, they're not Dolls with all their holes conditioned to penetrations, and it's easy to forget that and really give them a bad experience. A nine-year-old Doll can take a twelve-inch cock right down to the balls without any trouble--even bigger, in some cases--but try that on an unprepared nine-year-old girl, even if she's brave and insists she can do it, it's not going to be fun for either of you. Of course, right now you have to be at least ten for a horny bucket that allows anything but oral and touching. We technically allow lesser forms of Dollplay as young as eight--because history shows they're candidates for true Dollhood already at that point--but again, only with parental permission, and that's rare. Honestly, it's still pretty rare even well into the teens. Whatever age, a lot of girls who are allowed only ever do one Horny Summerween because people expect them to enjoy sex as much as a Doll and their bodies just aren't built for that. Which might be for the best, again.

My Bethany-Anne only had one before she was taken. Look, when I gave her permission, I didn't expect her to go through with it. I expected her usual anxiety to kick in and she'd back out the first time someone offered, or at least it would make her tense up, let the pain teach her the life of a Doll was not for her. But no. The guy who put the full-sized Milky Way bars in her horny bucket also treated her super gently, got her comfortable with anal insertion and she came back bragging how she could take it all if she just relaxed and let him do it carefully. It was the first year we allowed the horny buckets and I guess people were afraid of fucking up a good thing. Still don't even know who it was, since she wanted her privacy. I still wish she'd let me come supervise, though. Not for any perverted reasons, just so I could have pushed him to be rougher. Then maybe my Bethany-Anne wouldn't have chosen that cow costume again a few months later.

Here, let me show you. This is a picture of her I took when she left for Trick-or-Treating the night the King took her. Note that the costume isn't sexualized at all. I mean, I guess the udders are technically fake cow-nipples, but they're not exactly attractive, and her own nipples are covered. The Summerween version was two piece and showed her belly button instead of udders... I could afford to be a little more daring, there, since I didn't want her to go out with a horny bucket and get no offers at all, that would be awful for her self-esteem, but on Halloween, I played it safe. I swear, I wasn't actually trolling for the King to take her, so I put her in a costume appropriate for a little girl. I didn't even risk a skirt like some parents let their kids go out in... that cow-print onesie covers practically her entire body, except the face and arms. Just an ordinary twelve-year-old, with a beautiful smile. Not a dumb blonde, either, despite the stereotype she always did pretty well in school, before... except tests and presentations, where her anxiety flared up. In class though, her eyes were bright, alert. She squints when she smiles, so you can't really see those bright eyes here, but trust me.

That right there, the bell around the neck? I thought that was a particularly smart touch, because it looks like something a cow would wear, but if she got grabbed and shoved into a van, surely it would ring, alert people. Even if he liked the costume, surely the King would go after somebody easier. But then, he'd pulled off so many impossible abductions, and maybe in retrospect I was only attracting his attention even more.

Here's the after picture, how she showed up at my door the next time I saw her, in April. Hardly even looks like the same girl, does it? Or if it does, you'd think she's like... two years older at least. But I assure you, she's still twelve here, just looks older because she's filled out, especially those huge milk jugs. Lot of development for five months, right? Even the Head Cheerleader doesn't have breasts that big. With talent like that I don't know why the King doesn't just go get wealthy in silicon-free breast enhancement. In the before picture, here, you can't even tell my daughter has boobs at all, can you? But in this one, bam, you can't miss them.

Of course, they're covered in the before picture. Animal-themed Dolls usually get returned naked, except accessories like the cowprint sleeves and leggings, the customary butt-plug tail, and because of that they usually wind up getting molested, at least a little, before being returned home, but other Dolls don't have a bell ringing with every step, drawing attention. I'm pretty sure the people who found her escorted her directly to my door. She hadn't even been properly milked. See? You can see the leakage, those are full. I had to drain them myself while she sucked on the salted caramels I had ready to secure her ownership. Her pussy doesn't look recently fucked either.

I think what really makes her look no longer like a twelve-year-old is above the neck. She's gained a little weight there, doesn't have quite the same dimple to her cheeks. See the hairstyle, here, the asymmetrical undercut is similar to the one our Good Soldier came back with, just a little longer on one side. Maybe the King likes that undershave effect, but it does make her look older. Luckily one of the benefits of having your own Doll is you can do their hair however you want... though I've also learned I can't let her grow it too long or she chews her own hair, so I usually leave the sides shaved like that for practical reasons, so I can more easily check her for fleas and ticks. Also left in that ring through her septum, since it fits with her whole cow identity and that makes her happy, but it also makes her look more like a surly teenager than the little daughter I remember.

Not thrilled about that tag in her ear, either. I get the point, makes her look more like livestock, I just don't find it attractive, myself. I suppose I should be happy the cow-print wasn't tattooed on.

The eyes are what really get me, though. Look at that dull, vacant look. It'd be one thing if she's just dazed because she had her brains figuratively fucked out, but no, she's always like this now. The brain's still in there, we still talk, but she's just so fucking docile. It's like pulling teeth to get her to express an opinion. Which, I could blame on the Halloween King being extra cruel, but from what I hear from her friends is what she really wanted. Like Kennedy the Puppy, like the Pony, she saw some attraction in just not having to think, not suffering any anxiety and just... be. Be a cow, but be.

Maybe not even worrying so much about the 'be a cow' part, either. Unlike Tabby and other animal girls, she doesn't fret very much if her cow-parts go missing. By the time she returned home for the picture, she'd already somehow lost the headband that looked like cow ears and horns... somebody returned them later, but Bethany-Anne didn't panic at all in the meantime like our Catgirl or the Puppy or the Pony do. My daughter was happy when she got them back but if she was left without them forever... that was okay too.

I think maybe the stories are true, that the Halloween King talks to the girls, finds out what they want, and gives that to them. Part of what Bethany wanted was not to have an anxiety attack or even feel overly anxious ever again. So he hypnotized or brainwashed her into not caring most of the time, even let her not worry about following all the rules that usually apply to Dolls. I can even take out her tail and dress her up as something other than a cow, but milk leaks through all her shirts so I don't usually bother, since I know she's happier naked and looking like a weird fetish object anyway. She won't express an opinion, but I know she still has them... she just wants to be taken care of without having to ask. These days, Bethany-Anne mostly looks forward to feeding time, milking time, and fucking time, but you have to know her well to tell, because even those, while they're happening, she just stands still and takes it however it comes.

Having a Doll in the family didn't turn out quite how I expected. It's almost more work for me than anything else. I mean, I wouldn't have minded her being turned into a Doll, if she was a little more like the other ones, able to hide it. I could enjoy watching my daughter have a secret sexy double life, but I wanted it to be a double life. Why couldn't she have chosen to be the Dumb Bunny instead of the Stupid Cow? Look at this first picture again, and imagine her returning with pretty much the same body, just with cute little bunny ears, buck teeth, fluffy butt-plug tail wiggling in the air? Even if the King left her fertile and wanting to reproduce like bunnies are supposed to, at least she'd be able to go to school for more than the milk delivery.

Bethany-Anne won't say anything, but I get the feeling she's lonely. She still has a few friends, mind you, but they don't often remember to visit at home... they're the kind of friends who are happy to see her if they're in a room together, but she can't use a phone, and she's not exactly a good conversationalist anyway, so not many of her old friends really make an effort to seek her out.

All the Dolls are a community, but Bethany-Anne's sort of on the fringes, even there. It's been years, but most still haven't really taken the time to get to know her. If she's craving milk, Lauren might visit in the night, and she's usually polite but often comes when Bethy's asleep... sometimes we only know she's been there because there's a bite mark left behind. Still, I much prefer her visits to the Bad Boy's... my daughter triggers his implanted kink, and she's the only Mom-type besides his own that he doesn't have to sweet-talk to fuck... I'd be happy to let him, if he treated her with some respect, but he thinks it's funny to drag friends along to watch him treat her like shit, and thinks it's even funnier to squirt milk at his friends. I usually catch him making a huge mess and have to spank him, but it never deters him for long. And of course, Manny makes sure to order Elena to visit now and then, which is appreciated... the girl's always been a bit like an older cousin, but Oscar keeps her pretty busy and the two girls probably have less to talk about than most... Elena uses a lot of military jargon and has also become a bit of a gun nut so a lot of times I walk in on her giving some monologue comparing the stopping power of various weapons or rattling off a story that's nearly incomprehensible because of all the acronyms she uses, while Bethany just moos because she doesn't know or care enough about what they're talking about to contribute.

You'd think the Cow would at least have some commonality with the other animal Dolls, but the Pony and the Puppy are too active for her to keep up with, and even if you put her and the Catgirl in a room alone together, once the kitty's had some milk, Bethy usually gets ignored in favor of self-grooming or a more interesting smartphone.

Really, she probably has the most in common with the Free-Use Dolls, since they, like her, will just calmly take anything sexual while pretending not to notice--unless their customers specifically ask for more active participation--but they've all got phones and other hobbies too. Still, I get the feeling the time they spend together in Glory Hole Hall while I take in some of the shows is probably the highlight of her con season, like she's found peers.

I almost wish she was just a Free-Use Doll, because sometimes I do miss doing normal things with the old Bethany-Anne. It's really hard to take the Stupid Cow out to the more public events, where we're supposed to tone things down... her leaky jugs stand out too much and refuses to use her arms for anything but stability. Usually won't speak even if spoken to... she may not be anxious, but somehow she's still shy... or at least it takes her a while to warm up to someone new to bother wanting to talk to them.

At the cons, she doesn't really need to talk... certainly she gets a lot of pictures taken with her, and my Milk-My-Cow booth always turns a profit, but unless someone's got a specific fetish for her it's all just a fun diversion. Any time another Doll passes by, the crowd's attention's gone. Let's face it, most of the people we attract are interested in children who look like children, and someone with big tits is hardly ever the main draw for our visitors, so I feel sorry for her sometimes. Not easy for me, either, as a parent. Between the milking, keeping her clean, forcing her to exercise, making a balanced vegetarian diet and trying to nurture some kind of social life... I somehow have to do more chores as a parent than I did when she had extra-curricular activities! But the life of a Cow is what she asked for, and we've adjusted. You can get used to almost anything, and I do enjoy fresh milk every day.

And after all, it's only for a few more years. Probably.

See, turns out we were right to take the Free-Use Kids message as a hopeful sign. The Dolls were designed to only last until age eighteen... or at least, that's when the programming forcing it starts to wear off. Tia, our Pirate, was the first to age out, but her eighteenth birthday came and went without any obvious change, and the town lost one last hope that kept us from sliding into the abyss of depravity... it was only some time later that we caught her breaking character, not speaking in Pirate, and she admitted that she didn't HAVE to do it anymore, or go on the yearly Trick-or-Treat, she just liked it, and going to the conventions, so she kept it up. Once the secret was out, she even abandoned her Captain and stopped the constant dress-up. Oh, you'll still see her wandering around as a pirate, but it's more like advertising that she's open for business. She's too old to do it just for candy, but she still makes good money pegging guys who are into that sort of thing. Then when she's made enough for one night, she goes home to her steady girlfriend, changes into some comfy jammies, and I assume only pirates music.

On the other hand, when Tabby hit eighteen, she decided being a Catgirl isn't really part of her identity anymore. She says she doesn't regret it, and the tiger-stripe tattoos are either too expensive to remove or something she wants to keep as a momento--they certainly help to convince people she's legal, since her development was delayed by her Doll service--but she doesn't feel the need to dress up at all anymore, wear a tail, or even stay in town. She's off at big-city college now, and her OnlyFans shows she's even, finally, growing boobs. And though she doesn't go into heat anymore, she still seems to really like sex, which is encouraging. Especially anal.

You know, a lot of kids auditioned to be the new Catgirl the Halloween immediately after she retired. Most of them even going the extra mile... I'm pretty sure the world supply chain suffered a brief shortage of cat-tail anal-toys that year, solely due to the aspiring eight-to-fifteen-year-olds of our town, but nobody noticed anything off, which is all that mattered. They're the kind of thing that--if you're not looking for 'em--get taken for a decorative skirt attachment by the normal family Trick-or-Treaters we still get. Kind of wish Bethany-Anne had held out just a little longer for that opportunity. She'd have made an adorable Catgirl Doll, but then, she probably wasn't even really in the running even if she wasn't already a Cow by then. We're pretty sure now that the Halloween King either lives in town or somehow finds a way to unobtrusively visit in the weeks beforehand, because otherwise it's just a little too coincidental that Leila was chosen as the replacement. Her family's Iranian, but you'd probably have to be here more than a night to figure it out, and giving us the Persian Catgirl too perfectly matches his type of humor to have happened by chance.

More proof of him lurking around the sidelines is the growing evidence that other Dolls who choose to stay fully in the Doll life after hitting eighteen seemed to receive some kind of refresher on the programming and a hormonal top-up to stay looking young. I don't mean the ones who stay halfway, like Tia, but Elena our Good Soldier girl told her brother that she 're-upped for another five-year tour of duty,' and she still follows every degrading order with a sir-yes-sir, while passing for a middle school tomboy. I guess there's probably only so much science can do, and eventually they'll probably start looking like older women who just have small bodies, but who knows... our longest serving Doll still doesn't even seem to have entered puberty yet, and you'd swear she was still nine. I guess staying out of the sun also helps keep Lauren looking young, but who knows, maybe she's actually immortal. Wouldn't that be something for the history books if immortality was discovered by a pervert like the Halloween King?

Anyway, now that there's hope that being a Doll isn't necessarily a life sentence, we have a lot more fun with the whole thing. Not that we weren't long before that, I guess. I imagine some people would think it unconscionable to just give up on some of our kids like that, let them be icons of sexuality, but, when you think about it, is it that much worse than letting them star in Hollywood movies and TV shows, or spend all their free time training for the Olympics, or even chase popularity from anonymous thousands on social media? Kids do all of those things, and each of them can interfere with their normal intellectual, physical, or social development, expose them to predators, and otherwise redirect the natural course of their lives for the entertainment of others and a dream. Here, the dream might sometimes have been implanted from outside, but it's still a dream, and it seems like they can choose to wake up with no long-term trauma, so let the Dolls enjoy it, I say.

Anyway, that's the story behind all the spooky decorations. Tis the season again. Summerween Fest and the convention is one week, but you know how people are, just like with Halloween, decorations go up the whole month, and we do have other family-friendly events leading up to it... like a watermelon carving contest, since pumpkins aren't in season. I think that came from the cartoon too. Our local Pony gives rickshaw rides, for a small fee... in an appropriate costume, of course, except in the con area where we make sure everybody's into the kinks.

Our other two Festivals are quieter affairs, by comparison. Sure, we still hold a convention, put up decorations, and have a few events, but they're smaller, more for the locals than the tourists. April Fools Day of course is sort of the centerpiece to our Halloween Homecoming Week, where we all celebrate the new Dolls and their first Trick-or-Treating. For a few days before, we have a little betting pool on any niche fetishes the new dolls are going to service, and whoever gets closest wins a cameo in the Fools Cabaret, a variety show our Clown puts on the first Friday night after the return, with various Dolls doing funny skits, culminating--where appropriate, at least--with one that introduces the newbies with their official Doll Names. For the more family-friendly side, there's a few local traditions, like dressing up some of the town statues as various Dolls, and, if the weather cooperates, a dunk tank with a special prize for people who get a Doll wet.

Between Halloween and Homecoming, we have our Grim Christmas, although it's not that grim anymore, except for the spooky decorations and of course maybe for the parents who are missing their kids, depending on how much they wanted it to happen. We do our best to cheer them up, either way. It's tradition now for each Doll Owner to send their Dolls around to entertain the parents of that year's abductees, for a night of whatever they want. Not all at once, mind you, it's sort of a twelve-nights-of-Christmas type thing.

I remember my Grim Christmas. Sure was missing my Bethany-Anne, afraid of what I was going to get back, and not too excited about the Doll visits, having some lingering anger. See, I'm pretty sure the Princess helped talk my little girl into the Cow outfit, or at least gave her confidence to stick with it... if Mackenzie hadn't judged her suit as one of the year's winners at the school pageant, for the night itself, Bethy might have gone with my Bunny idea or her safe backup Sailor Moon outfit from the year before. Rather, her legally distinct Magical Anime Girl outfit, since our family doesn't shirk our civic responsibility to participate fully in the Lottery. That's the limit of my civic pride, though... I certainly wasn't looking forward to having the Princess visit and telling me how honored I should be that the King chose my daughter. Nor was I looking forward to getting some alone time with the freshest Dolls, because of the particulars of the previous year.

That was the four-abduction year, because of the twins who 'volunteered' to be Free-Use. And I liked having them spend the night, even though they mostly fucked each other while I watched, but other than their enthusiastic incest, there was nothing really special about their visit that I didn't already get from the other Free-Use Dolls. The other new Dolls from last year were the Pony--who, again, I kind of blamed for getting my daughter excited about the idea of being made into a beast of burden--and Cindy the Naughty Nun, who I expected to be a complete no-show. The tradition isn't mandatory, after all, and you might expect that a religious family who made their daughter dress up like a nun in the hopes that it would keep her safe aren't really that keen on sharing their little girl. She didn't even attend her naming at the Fools Cabaret.

Which was kind of bad-sportsmanship, since her parents did actually get what they wanted out of the deal. Or, at least, Cindy's virginity has been preserved, even if her modesty hasn't. The girl disappeared on Halloween wearing a full nun's habit, returned wearing only the wimple and an intricate network of straps connected to nipple rings... and a chastity belt. Much more elaborate than the ones we use for the Free-Use Dolls, this one's some custom job designed to be worn almost 24/7, and even with room to grow with her. It had a plexiglass window that let us see but not touch her bare pussy... as well as the tattoo above, declaring that her holy temple is reserved for Jesus. Only the front entrance is reserved, though, because you can still bang on the backdoor. Maybe that's not actually part of the temple. Still, if you flip up the little clipped-in scrap of fabric that hangs down the back of her chastity belt and protects some modesty there, you'll see that there's an open ring around her asshole, rendering that open season to worship. And, in only five months, the Halloween King's brainwashing twisted the Catholic doctrine her family spent thirteen years instilling in her. Sexual slavery served to make Cindy see sodomy as a sacrament instead of a sin... shit, see if you can say that six times fast!

Anyway, for all that people joke that she's now Sindy-With-An-S the fact is, unlike virtually every other Doll, their Doll daughter's still technically a virgin unless someone's taken advantage during the brief intervals Cindy removes the belt herself for maintenance, cleaning, and health check-ups. Which she can, because a vow of chastity would be meaningless if it was forced, and Cindy seems determined to keep her hymen intact and just do everything but. Take the win, I say.

Her parents didn't seem to see it that way. They not only skipped the Cabaret, but didn't let her attend any of the festivals or conventions, and withdrew her from normal school. For a while they tried to hold off touching her, or letting anyone in the family touch her, which, to be fair, happens with a lot of new Doll owners... the girl went Trick-or-Treating for a new master before May hit. Father, or Mother Superior she calls her owners, though they don't have to actually be her parent or ordained in any way. Of course she was sent right back home after, with a sore ass that I bet was made even sorer with the spanking she got soon after, from her REAL father, since they were big proponents of corporal punishment, the buttocks are exposed by Cindy's belt, and she had absolutely snuck out. Or was let out, since I heard she was locked in her room back then, and I honestly suspect if Cindy didn't have younger brothers and sisters to unlock her door her parents would have let her go catatonic from lack of use... all the while praying it would snap her out of it. After that April Trick-or-Treat, it wasn't repeated, and she didn't shut down so I guess someone in the family was designated to make use of her and prevent her from straying.

Still kept at home, though... the rest of the town barely saw Cindy in the months following. Now, I have to admit I'm a little bit of a voyeur... probably why I stayed in this town for so long, so maybe I'm not the most objective judge, but it seemed like a damn shame, and cruel besides. Part of Cindy's designated kink seemed to be public exhibitionism, but they wouldn't even let her out on the streets to show off immodest nun outfits. Certainly didn't let her attend anything Summerween related, and wouldn't even put up holiday decorations or carve a spooky watermelon. When Halloween rolled around again, they let her out for her mandatory owner search, with the understanding she would be sent right back--as was the polite custom--but still wouldn't engage with any of the traditions, kept their lights off and house undecorated, wouldn't let their other kids Trick-or-Treat at all, which the town council let slide.

I guess something in the time between October and December changed their outlook though... or maybe it was just the spirit of Christmas. Every Doll has a story, but I sure don't know them all, some are left to our imaginations. I imagine Cindy spent a lot of time on her knees with her family, helping them to pray their way through accepting the burden God tasked them to carry. The whole family started showing up at cons a lot more after that Christmas breakthrough... her father said it was to try and guide the other Dolls in spiritual matters, but we know when he volunteers to chaperone the Free-Use Dolls that it's not entirely out of altruism. At least before his youngest dressed up as one her first eligible Halloween, now I guess there's also an element of parental supervision at play.

Still, the fact that they gave their daughter to me for the night while I knew they were struggling with having a Doll in the family, meant a lot to me that Christmas, inspired me to be more forgiving of the Pony when she came. By her visit, I was in a much cheerier mood, and I even let her pull me on a public carriage ride, something I'd previously sworn I wouldn't do. By the time the Doll Parade went on, I was in much cheerier spirits.

Cindy the Naughty Nun wasn't the only reason for that, of course, all the Dolls played a role, and watching them have so much fun in their new lives made me feel better about what was coming for my own daughter. The Clown visited me on the same night as Cindy, and you've never seen a girl so determined to put a smile on a grumpy grieving parent's face by any means necessary. Then, I've always been a big fan of the Clown. You can't imagine how often I've kicked myself for not dressing little Bethany-Anne up as an off-brand clown when she was nine. But if I couldn't have that, at least I could have a private show and also witness one of Cindy's first forays into homosexuality, since it became pretty clear that it was her father or one of the brothers keeping her at home and not a mom or a sister... didn't know how to lick a pussy and was totally surprised when she finally got a squirt in the face from the Clown's flower. Should have seen the comical astonished-but-excited look on her wet face when she turned and asked me, "Does every woman's holy temple do that when the spirit flows through them?" Obviously not, but she grew to like ringing Satan's doorbell to find out if she got a free baptism.

Not every parent comes around to joining in the fun on Grim Christmas like I did, even with the Christmas Cheer-Up Squad, and it does feel a little gauche to celebrate so openly when people are grieving. And it is still Christmas, so most people are too busy shopping for gifts and planning family get-togethers to really have the energy for much outside of the convention, but we do have a few events to look forward to, like that Doll Parade. That's basically just an ordinary costumed parade... we have to try to keep PG-rated because it's outdoors and cold and people innocently passing through or visiting family might see and not really need to know the Dolls actually are brainwashed sex slaves. Happy ones, though, that's the important part.

In private, with vetted audiences, our Clown usually does another pageant, holiday-themed, of course. Last year the showstopper was about her trying to seduce Santa, played as usual by her Dad, to give her the gifts she wants, to the tune of the song Santa Baby. A few rewritten lyrics, though, because what she wanted was less about expensive baubles and more about things a young girl shouldn't be asking for, like deluxe vibrators, a bun in the oven, and a big puppy to fuck her, which was the one Santa was finally able to give, after tearing the tag off from a gift meant for the neighbor.

I had 'Santa baby, I want a knot, and really that's not a lot' in my head well into New Year, and that's despite the caroling from the Free-Use Dolls. In addition to visiting the abductee's families and their convention duties, we let them go door-to-door on Grim Christmas, singing. Dressed up, of course, because, again, it's cold outside, but if someone want to invite them in for a warm cup of eggnog and those clothes come off, hey it's Christmas, they deserve a night of freedom and their chaperones deserve a night off.

Yeah, they still do have chaperones. I told you, outside of Halloween, Summerween, Christmas, and April Fools, we discourage tourism, and though the Dolls still are going to be Dolls, we do our best to keep their activities behind closed doors, and keep the normal kids out of it. The Free-Use kids still wear chastity devices during school hours... outside of that, it depends on what their guardians allow, though most let them totally free for carolling. And we still have chaperones for a lot of the other Dolls, trying to keep the sexuality to a minimum and all the Dolls clothed if they aren't trolling for a new owner. Keep the open perversion to a minimum, so nobody who isn't in on it sees.

Although the Princess still dresses however the fuck she wants... and sometimes our Catgirl's in heat or the Puppy needs to get some fresh air and so we get a nude little girl wandering in public. And of course, we do let the Pony run races with the other kids on Track and Field Day, only kind of as a naked pacesetter. And the Naughty Nun dresses pretty risque even when she's cooperating. So I guess there is a lot of open perversion--and sex--going on that it's possible to stumble on, but that's why we keep tourists out the rest of the year and why I needed to warn you in advance. Really, we want to just be as normal a town as we can be, under the circumstances. If we don't, we're on the short path to becoming a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah, and we're already halfway there with the sodomy. Of course, as Cindy pointed out, Lot offered up his daughters for the mob to ravage, and God still decided he was righteous, so, why can't we consider ourselves the same?

Anyway, I've yammered on enough. You haven't gone running for the hills, so either you're shell-shocked and thinking about how to expose us--trust me, it won't work--or you're already thinking about which Dolls you might like to run into. Or you think I'm bullshitting, telling a messed-up story to scare away a big-city sucker into forfeiting that non-refundable fee for a rental room. You probably haven't seen any of the Dolls yourself, and those pictures I showed you could be staged. With tits that big, maybe the Cow I showed you is just a fetish porn-star with a baby-face similar to Bethany-Anne.

Come on, then, follow me down to the barn.

See? Seeing is believing. It's pretty comfortable for a barn, really, I used some milk money, put in a heating system, so she can be naked pretty well year round. There's a plumbing system she can use without me... even installed a TV on the wall so she has something to keep her mind stimulated. What are you watching Bethy? Do you want me to change the channel? I'll change the channel. By the way, this is our new boarder here. Would you believe, he didn't know anything about the Dolls before today?

She's still a little shy around new people, probably won't talk until she gets to know you a little. But go ahead and grab those teats. I can see you want to, and Bethany-Anne won't mind, it's what she's made for. If it helps, she's almost legal by now. Suck on her nipples, if you want... there you go, just don't expect anything, I just finished milking her and it takes her a while to recharge. It's faster if she's properly stimulated, of course, and remember, that lower room fee was contingent on you helping out with chores around here, and that includes milking duties, from getting her lactating to hosing her down after. This right here's a vibrating 'cattle prod' I use in the mornings when I haven't had my coffee, but don't feel the need to limit yourself to this... to help get her juices flowing, you're welcome to do anything that doesn't hurt her. Like I said, she's super docile, and makes a great cum dump. Don't you Bethany-Anne?

That moo means yes. She won't tell you herself, but I can tell she likes you. Go on, try her out.

Now, she didn't come back with birth control like most of the other Dolls, but don't let that worry you... Bethy's much happier when she's pregnant, she pumps out more milk, not to mention the beautiful, healthy, smart babies that come out of her womb. I've got no shortage of families who are willing to pay good money to adopt a baby like she makes. I know, that seems callous, but it's what's best for everyone. I certainly can't take care of both my little Doll and grandchildren, and I make sure they have good, loving homes. The Halloween King wanted the Cow fertile for a reason, and like with everything else, I figure it's better to lean into it than fight against it. So I try to get her knocked up during Summerween... that way she produces more for the school year, and the Halloween, Christmas, and April cons. All the Dolls like to be useful in their own special way, and being productive is what makes my Bethy happy. And her being happy makes my life a lot easier.

Tell you what, if you give her at least a good load in her womb every day you're here, I'll use my connections and I might be able to get you some personal time with the Doll of your choice before you leave. No promises, it's con season and they're all pretty busy, but if you didn't bring a lot of cash on this trip, it's probably the best chance you're going to get before Halloween.

I mean, I assume you'll be back for Halloween. If you treat my daughter well and don't make an ass of yourself, I'll even let you reserve your room with me. Unlike a lot of the town, I prefer to rent to people I'm comfortable with again and again, rather than open it up to the highest bidders. I don't need the money that much, and I'd rather find someone who treats my Bethy right and that's easy to talk to. Like my last seasonal boarder... he wasn't the father of any of her babies on account of a previous vasectomy, but he sure liked sticking his dick in a pregnant Cow and pretending he was fucking his daughter carrying another daughter. Kinky pervert, huh? But I'm hardly in a position to judge, I liked to watch, so we grew to be good friends. Shit that reminds me, I need to send his actual daughter a condolence card... we met a few times, although I don't think she ever knew what he was into. She liked the Doll Parade, but I don't think she understood it or caught on that it was the same kids year after year... she mostly just made her way up her for Christmas for family time, since her father was up here pretty much every festival season from when he discovered it until he passed.

Of course, he was retired, so that was easy... he didn't have to schedule around work. Now, I can understand if you can't be as reliable as him, a lot of people can't book that much time off in advance. I'm sure I can find other boarders. But if you can make it up for Halloween night at least, I really recommend it. We can sit on the porch and hand out candy and even if we don't get visited by one of the other Dolls, it's always fun to watch the normal kids Trick-or-Treat, to try and guess who's going to win the Lottery and be chosen for the next Halloween Doll.

Maybe we'll get something creepy like a Ghost Doll. We could use another boy, and I could imagine one who wants to pretend nobody sees him, sort of a reverse Free Use Doll. Or the King might choose a non-copyright infringing variation on something big in pop culture, like a generic Superheroine who's acts like she doesn't want to get tied up and dominated but keeps letting it happen. Or something nontraditional, that's not even a personal identity at all, like the Whiteboard Doll we got this April. She was one of those inevitable Halloween grinches we get... just went out for the night wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said 'This is my Halloween costume' written in black marker, figuring it was too boring to Dollify. Only it wasn't, and when she returned, she still had the jeans but was topless, with a collar that had a marker dangling from a string, and would act out anything someone writes on her. She still Trick-or-Treats like that if nobody's written on her in a while, but otherwise she dresses normally and acts like sex is beneath her... except that skinsafe marker is still always on her collar, and the moment somebody uses it to write a dirty task on her she immediately changes her attitude until the mark gets cleaned off. She can't erase it herself except by doing the task... even if you write 'give five blowjobs' all she can do is change the number as she does each one. The town's been having a lot of fun with that these last couple months, so maybe this year we'll get something else wacky and outside of the box like that again. Or it could just be something classic... hey, we might finally even get a Mermaid. I can't even really imagine know how a Mermaid Doll might work, but I'm sure it'd be something to see, and there's one twelve-year-old who's been trying to snag that Doll role since she was nine.

No fear about how he might twist her body to make that wish come true, but then that's what Halloween's supposed to be about, right? Spooky fun, but nothing really to be scared of. And once we got used to what was happening to our town, that's what we got. An unstoppable kidnapper, sure, should be terrifying, but it could be a lot worse, and most of our town isn't really afraid of him anymore, not even his potential victims. Some of us even envy them, but if we can't enjoy Halloween like the kids, watching the transformations play out and playing with the Dolls themselves is almost as fun.

Wanna think about something really scary, though? Ever since I heard about what happened to my last boarder, I've been thinking a lot about what happens if the Halloween King were ever to suddenly die. I mean, assuming it's just a mad genius and not a secret project or magical fey creature... one year he could just... get hit by a car. Or have a heart attack. We wouldn't even know, until we pass a Halloween where nobody gets taken. What do we do then?

I mean I guess we could try and make the girls into Dolls ourselves. Find the girls who want it the most, take them away for specialized training, sure. I'm on the town council, and there's some tentative plans drawn up for a place where, if we had to, we could probably keep them out of sight. Just long enough to condition them physically to endure extensive sexual use, and, to a lesser extent, mentally as well, prepare them for the roles we want them to play, keep the festivals going that way even if other Dolls retire. But could we make the replacements enjoy it for their whole term without lifelong trauma? Could we discover and replicate whatever tricks he uses to keep Dolls young and healthy until their time is up? Much less all the little creative flourishes like my daughter's milk production, the Catgirl's heat, or the Clown's squirting flower, the stuff that elevates them from simple brainwashed sextoys into living works of art? I don't know. All our favorite traditions would be at risk. Some hope Princess Mackenzie has been programmed to replace him, that he somehow passed on all his skills to her, and that's why he let her age normally, but that seems pie-in-the-sky. It's probably going to fall to us, and I don't know if we can do it. I certainly doubt we could do it all as efficiently as he does, return two kids a year as perfectly functional Dolls, ready to go in time for April. That seems like a stretch. It really is amazing how much he could change the inner essence of a kid in only five months.

Or a whole town, in only a few years. I mean, we went from dreading Halloween to celebrating four times a year, and he got us to come to view the ongoing sexual slavery of children as a cherished local tradition. Who knows, maybe if he really is out there working his magic for the elites, he could slowly shift the attitudes of a whole country in another decade. There might come a day we could advertise our festivals openly, where people would come from around the world to play with our Dolls. If he doesn't just disappear from our lives as suddenly as he appeared.

So, I guess, long live the Halloween King.
Shit, Bethy's dripping again... don't stop what you're doing, just let me just get the milk bucket in position.

The End

A few end notes. As mentioned, this idea was suggested by the artist Danaume, and as part of an effort to inspire me she also did some art that I eventually wound up incorporating into the story. You can see it at https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/84807353 - IIRC when she offered I left it up to her the kind of costume that was chosen by the Slaver (as we were calling him then), figuring the surprise would be amusing. Because of the long lag time between idea and full story a few of the details in the image's description don't 100% line up to the story, but I did my best to match the image itself... chalk up any variations to a similar alternate universe. Which, if somebody else wants to write a story or do art focused on the dolls, I'm also happy to do. I won't police it, I'd just be happy to see any out there since I love the concept (I've always had a weakness for slutty girls in fun costumes... Danaume knows this about me).

Danaume herself is working on her own story, telling of a single girl's abduction and a deal she makes with the King, and it goes more in detail on her transformation and training, which, be warned, makes it somewhat darker than than the tone I set for this particular story. When finished, I'll likely put it up on my new anonympc.asslr.org site as well, for people to enjoy.

Glad to see you're still writing, and coming back from the loss of asstr. Thanks again for sharing!

>>27707
Return of the king!

Glad to see new writing from you and that your stuff will still be available after the death of asstr.

I like this new story of yours, very hot concept. Would have liked it to have more actual action in it over talking about the action.

Yes, after a long gap, I’m back with some new work. Do people here even remember me? It’s been a rough few years, writing-wise, with my writing time and energy and motivation and even ability, all taking severe hits, some temporary, some seemingly long-lasting, but I never stopped, just had trouble finishing. The loss of ASSTR and ASSLR also hit pretty hard, with the feeling that it didn’t matter if I got stuff done because I had nowhere I could trust to host it (I mean there were places but I wanted a permanent place that didn’t need an account to sign up to that I could just link to and the world seemed to delight in taking those away from me). And now, I’m finally ready to post a new story. As is tradition, I debut it here first as part of my final editing process, to catch a few of the mistakes that ONLY seem to show up after you hit ‘post’).
I’ve actually got a few stories I count as ‘complete, except for editing’, though some of them still need a fair bit of it (and don’t get too excited either, none of them are continuations of existing stories – though I am presently working on a new Relatively Powered - and most are at least arguably Phil Phantom tributes… though one’s got a little more meat to it and written a bit closer to my own style, just has some of the same typical themes).
Anyway, this one is one that I actually started a many years ago, and then took a look at it recently and found that it was actually pretty easy to finish, so I did. And it’s probably the simplest of the stories so even though it’s probably the second ‘newest’ of the ‘to-be-edited’ queue, it’s the easiest to finish up and post. The title is one of those cases where I reappropriated the title of an actual Phil Phantom story, because it amused me (even though the plot has nothing in common with that story… and indeed I don’t actually remember what it was about very well, just the title, so I guess it didn’t hit on my particular set of kinks memorably like many of his others do)
Fun fact, according to my count this is actually my 69th story posted (unless I screwed up, anyway, and with whatever work got a separate webpage on my old site counting as a single story even if it was just one part of a serial). On AO3, the count’s currently 66, but that’s because I’ve got two Christmas-themed stories I haven’t yet reposted over there from my original sites… I think you can guess when they’re expected. But this is the 69th one I’ve published. Nice.
And yes, in case you missed it, since ASSTR and ASSLR don’t seem to be coming back, I’ve migrated all my stories over to Archive Of Our Own, AO3. So if you’re looking for my old work, it’s at https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonyMPC/works .
Barbados, Here We Come! - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (Mg, crooming, cheat, cuck, fake-rape, bondage, inc, dialogue only)

“Okay, we’ve got our tickets, passports, luggage… and, starting the car. Margaret, I believe that’s your cue.”
“We don’t have to do this every time.”
“It’s tradition. For good luck.”
“It’s silly.”
“Worked for us so far. And all traditions are silly, when you interrogate them, but if you don’t say the words, we’re starting our couple’s vacation off on the wrong foot, and you don’t want that, do you?”
“Fine. Barbados, here we come.”
“Not very enthusiastic.”
"Sorry. Just you know how the nerves get me. You’re sure everything's set with Heather?"
"Everything's taken care of... you worry too much, honey, this is our vacation, you should just relax and enjoy it and trust that everything will work itself out like it should.”
"I just hope Rhonda is there on time to pick her up after school."
"Oh... that reminds me, there's been a change of plan, Rhonda had to cancel at the last minute."
"You're telling me this NOW? Jim, we need to cancel."
"Nobody's canceling, I've got it all sorted out. Heather will be well looked after."
"Rhonda's been watching her while we go off for our couples vacations for years. What happened to tradition? I can't just sign off on some new babysitter."
"Relax, honey, I wouldn't do that to you. It's family."
"... who?"
"And I already told Heather about it, told her the same rules with Rhonda apply, she's to obey her babysitter just as she would us."
"Who did you get, Jim? I can't think of anyone who'd agree to babysit a twelve-year-old for two weeks on short notice. Or even can. Your sister works nights, and your mom's in Phoenix, and my mom, well..."
"It's fine. I asked your stepbrother, Scott..."
"Are you crazy?!"
"What? He's more than willing to do it, and he doesn't have a place to live for the next few weeks anyway. It's win-win."
"I've done everything I could to keep our daughter away from Scott, and you just invite him to watch our daughter?"
"You're overreacting, honey."
"Overreacting?! You want to leave our daughter alone with a sex offender!"
"See, that's what I mean. He's not a sex offender. He's been acquitted on all charges."
"Only because a crooked judge fixed things. You know who that pervert's dad is."
"Yeah, your stepdad. You're still just angry at your mom for marrying him. And I understand, but Scott’s never been convicted and you have no actual proof he's a sex offender so he could sue you for slander if you keep going around saying that."
"No proof? What about the time the Johnson girl fainted in the pool and he insisted that the only way to save her was with cock-to-ass resuscitation! It's been six years and they still won't talk to us, because you invited him!"
"Which is unfair on their part. You don't know it didn't work. It’s a valid technique, I witnessed it being done once on the beach. You were busy, so you never got to see, but from what I could tell, it works wonders in inducing the gasp reflex. Before I saw that, I was skeptical too, but. If you ask me, your brother may well have saved that poor girl's life. Which is what the courts agreed. She might not be alive today, if not for his actions. Nor would she have her son today.”
“Yeah, her five-year-old little boy. That she had at thirteen. Bastard went on to knock her up while his rape case against her was still going on!”
“Again, you can’t prove he’s responsible for that. I don’t want to slut-shame, but you saw the swimsuit she was wearing that day, he barely had to pull the thong aside to slip his cock in. If she wasn’t already sexually active, she was showing off her interest in getting that way even at twelve. Any boy in her school might have been the father, and she refused to allow a paternity test so we’ll never know.”
“I know. I see the smirk on that little shit’s face, and it’s just like his daddy.”
“Can’t see how he could be, he wasn’t allowed within 100 yards of her home or school that whole time. If he can impregnate her from that far away...”
“Please. You know as well as I do that the little slut must have snuck out to go meet him. Teenagers do that sort of thing.”
“Now who’s slut-shaming. Anyway, if that’s the case… and it’s never been proven she’s ever been to see him outside of the court where she refused to testify… that’s just evidence that she was grateful he saved her life. Not his fault her parents weren’t. If you ask me, his actions at the pool party are a point in his favor as a guardian, he'll do whatever it takes to keep our little girl alive."
"That’s bullshit, Jim. And that’s just one case! What about that other girl he lured into his place just a few months after his dad’s corrupt judge friend let him off?"
"Lured. She knocked on his door and said she was looking for a licky-tongue. He'd never talked to her before that day!"
"She was playing Pokemon Go! She didn't know he'd pull down her pants and start oral sex on a nine year old!"
"The district attorney didn't press charges, because there wasn't any evidence of oral sex.”
“And because his dad pulled strings and got him off again...”
“The DA seemed to think her parents must have just misinterpreted what she said. And we both watched her keep going up to his door, even after the Pokemon thing blocked the place... which was also unfair, because the court’s say he’s not even a sex offender."
"He groomed the girl and you know it."
"That's supposition. She probably just became good friends with his daughter."
"Candy wasn't living with him back then. And when she started, of course, even she wound up pregnant within a few months! His own daughter!"
"You can't blame him for that. Lots of preteen girls wind up pregnant. Candy even said herself it happened at school."
"That's my point, Jim, she was homeschooled!"
"Scott's just got a bad reputation, is all. I had a talk with him, and I promise you, he's totally trustworthy."
"Well, if you think he's that trustworthy, how about you take our daughter on the vacation, and I'll spend the two weeks here. Scott can still move in for those two weeks. You know I’ve never cheated on you, and, hey, I'm sure we'll get along fine as long as Heather's safely away."
"Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea, honey."
"See! You wouldn't trust him with me..."
"It's not because I don't trust him. I have the utmost faith in him, and you. But I couldn't take our daughter to the Barbados resort. For one thing, there's only one bed, and if you can't trust your own stepbrother alone in a house with our daughter, you certainly wouldn't trust me alone in a bed with her."
"You'd be surprised."
"And also, that would mean me having to supervise our daughter on a Caribbean beach. You know I won't be able to watch her every minute, she could easily stumble off in the wrong direction, get into trouble. Why, you never know, a group of locals might even burst through the door in the middle of the night and hold me at gunpoint, making me watch while they did whatever they wanted with her."
"... Honey, did you arrange a gang rape for me on our vacation again?"
"... Maybe. But if I did, it was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Not sure how something can be both a tradition and a surprise.”
“Regardless, it was done in bitcoin and I couldn't get my money back now... they're going to rape somebody, and it sure as damn isn't going to be me."

"Hmm... that still might be better for her than two weeks of molestation by a determined pervert."
"I disagree. A gang of horse-cocked men, overpowering Heather, taking all her virginities at once, by force, in front of her father, maybe making him join in afterwards... that's liable to leave her traumatized. And we'd definitely need to tell the police, which is dangerous. But if she was left alone with a man who happened to take some indecent liberties because she was told to do everything he said, who'd push her boundaries slowly… well, she might not like it at first, but at least there's a chance that by the time we got back she'd have grown to love it, and will beg us not to call the police... if she even lets us find out. We could wind up just having to turn a blind eye, while she sneaks out to keep visiting him."
"Good chance she'll wind up pregnant, that way. I've got her on the pill but she still needs to be reminded. You can't trust a kid to be careful about birth control, and we can't exactly turn a blind eye when that happens."
"I don't think birth control will be an option, Scott tells me he's morally against it, and if Heather has to follow all of his rules, I bet the pills are the first to go. But let's face it, with a face like hers, there's a good chance she'll get knocked up sooner or later. At least this way we have a shot of knowing the father in advance, even if we pretend we don't. And you know who his father is, he might divorce your mom one day, but he's always going to take care of his grandkids."
"That's true. You do make a good argument."
"Is it an argument? You don't seem nearly as outraged as you were when we started. At this point it might just be a discussion."
"I was outraged when I thought you were being blind to what a danger a sex offender watching our daughter would be."
"Again..."
"Not technically a sex offender, yeah, I get it, but whether he's technically got the label or not, you seem to be expecting some sex offending to be going on, counting on it, even, and that means I'm able to discuss with you--as co-parent--whether that's best for our daughter and our family. I'm still not sure that it is. If nothing else, people will talk. There's turning a blind eye with plausible deniability and there's criminally negligent parenting."
"It's only criminally negligent if the cops get involved. And if they're not going to arrest Scott for doing it, they'll have to explain why they're investigating us when we were nowhere nearby... we're clearly in the plausible deniability zone here. Especially if he gets Heather to the point where she won't turn him in, and I think two weeks is enough to get her to that point."
"I'm not so sure, and if she says something, I think to have any credibility as parents, we'll have to report it, or explain why we didn't. And either way, that risks our involvement--your involvement--coming out. We've always taught her to say something if anybody touches her, haven't we?"
"We have taught her that, because we're good parents. And she probably would if he was just watching her for a day, maybe two, or if he molested or raped her in a moment of opportunity when we weren't on a long vacation away from her... I know you've been half expecting that to happen already. But what if he were to get her to want it as much as the Lickitung girl did, to get over that urge to tell us and into the urge to keep it a secret. Not that it'll be one for long."
"It won't?"
"It can't. We're good parents. We'll see the signs and eventually, we'll catch her in the act... and not just a fingers in her dress situation where she can break off and, to try and save her relationship with us, pretend she was scared, but actually watch her taking his cock inside her while she's begging for him to cum inside her like a little slut who wants to be bred. That happens, we play it right, she'll beg us not to tell on him, and then, once that happens, he might as well start doing it right in front of us, for safety's sake."
"You really think he can get her to that point? Molestation to willing victim?"
"I don't see why not. Like mother, like daughter, right?"
"Not quite the same thing. First off, I'd had sex before that first Barbados rape, with guys a lot rougher than you, and I knew it could be pleasurable and that I could just surrender it... and I was putting on a good show, because I thought your life might depend on them thinking I got cock-drunk and wouldn’t turn them in. Besides, those first guys... I mean, no offense, but if I knew I could get away with it and they'd asked nicely, I probably would have fucked them anyway... I loved you and I’d never cheated, but you remember how rocky our marriage was back then, that’s why we took the couple’s trip in the first place, to try and reconnect, spice things up, and I was already contemplating the idea that the best way to spice things up might be with a spicy vacation affair. I might have chosen those guys… if they hadn't broken into our room and I just met them at the pool or something, I mean. That they didn't ask turned out to be a huge turn-on, but it could easily have gone the other way if I was as innocent as Heather is."
"I wouldn't be so sure of her innocence. There's a good chance she's hoping she'll be pregnant by the time we come back from vacation more than we are."
"Jim, I know you like to fantasize, but she's twelve."
"You never had baby fever at that age?"
"Well, maybe, but I was a special case. Besides, a lot of girls have baby fever but they don't have the cock lust to get them there. I know at that age, if a guy actually offered to put one in me, I'd have said no thank you. In fact, I did, a few times. The only one I might have said yes to was already dead. I was just lucky the most persistent was happy to jerk off in front of me so I could see what actually made babies and that I thought it smelled awful. Took me a couple years to get over that."
"Not all girls are that lucky, and not all girls have a cousin they look up to who's already had a baby who's talked her through the process and talked up her own father as the perfect person to do it. This is practically Heather's idea."
"You're kidding."
"Honest to God. Well, ultimately, I guess it's Scott's idea, since he was the one who got his daughter to fill our daughter's head with how much fun she'd have filling her womb with uncle-cum..."
"Step-uncle."
"Fine, step-uncle. But it was our daughter who suggested that, instead of Rhonda, maybe her step-cousin could be the one to watch her since she was responsible and already had her own child."
"Not sure I'd call a fourteen-year-old single mother responsible. And I'm not sure it proves your point at all, she was trying to get you to leave her with a friend, not a guardian."
"That's why I told her I wouldn't feel comfortable with Candy being in charge, and that I'd only consider it if I knew an actual adult was there. Like her step-uncle Scott."
"And how'd she take that?"
"Oh, you should have seen her eyes bug out, and then pretend to look like she was compromising. I'd actually meant it as a joke, but that reaction got me thinking that Scott might have already been molesting our daughter, and I went down to the hotel they’ve been staying at to have a conversation with him."

"I somehow sense it wasn't to warn him away from her."
"No, by then I knew Rhonda wasn’t available and we were going to have to scramble, so, that's when I asked if he'd watch her for the two weeks we're away. Or at least be the responsible adult while his daughter played babysitter. He said he wouldn't feel comfortable doing that unless he had complete authority, that Heather was ordered to follow all his instructions, and he had the right to administer discipline any way he saw fit."
"And you agreed instantly."
"I didn't see a problem with it. It’s almost the same as what we tell her when Rhonda watches her, and I really didn’t want to cancel our vacation. I told him I trusted him to treat her as though she was his own daughter. He liked that."
"I bet."
"But I think he still suspected some kind of setup, so he called his daughter into the room, asked if I'd watch his grandson..."
"..son."
"Both, technically, but only one's legally acknowledged. So he asked me to watch his grandson while he checked to see if his daughter was up to the challenge."
"And?"
"They were only in the next room, and they made no effort to be quiet, so I heard him talk to her about the importance of setting a good example for Heather, that she'd be responsible for making sure Heather abides by his standard rules of the house... no underwear, sleeping naked, open for inspection at all times, how birth control was a sin. She said 'yes daddy,' a few times. Some of them were quite, um... emphatic?"
"You mean he was fucking his own daughter in the next room."
"I have no proof of that, and if asked I would deny that. But I could certainly imagine how somebody might come to that conclusion, from listening to how they interacted. But for all I know, he was just giving her spankings every time she used the F-word... which she also did a lot during the conversation."
"Conversation. You know, I remember that an old-timey word for conversation used to be intercourse?"
"Was it? Very well, let's be old-timey. She said 'fuck' an awful lot during the intercourse with her father. ‘Fuck yes,’ ‘fuck me daddy,’ and so on. I assume the last one was not literal, of course. Still, it did get my imagination going. When their intercourse was done and they came out, I told him I admired his relationship with his daughter, which I think impressed him after sitting out there in the next room and not jumping to conclusions and calling the police or anything."
"As if he was worried about that."
"Of course not, if he was, he'd never have dared, not in a hotel room, but he liked that I didn't seem to judge him. Or I did, and judged him how he wanted to be judged, like a cocky fucker I admired. I listened to some father-daughter intercourse that sounded an awful lot like a cocky pervert fucking his own daughter and my only comment was that I wished my little girl still called me Daddy."
"Yes, it's all 'dad' and 'mom' now with her."
"Exactly. But Scott told me that with a little work, I could have that kind of relationship with Heather, too, that the problem was she was growing up and needs parents who are willing to relate to her in more grown-up ways, so she could feel comfortable being a kid for them as well. He thought you were the one standing in the way of that."
"Of course he would."
"But I stood up for you, I said I thought that you would do anything to connect with Heather. He asked what you'd taught her about sex. I told him you taught her the basics, birth control, and so on."
"I bet that wasn't good enough for him."
"No, turns out he has some radical parenting ideas. 'That's both not enough and too much,' he said. 'Firstly, teaching kids about birth control is just unnatural. They're kids. They should be allowed to explore their sexuality at their own pace, in a natural way. If they really want to prevent pregnancy, they should find other places to make a guy shoot his load, but if it's going to happen, why fight it?' And he thinks you should be setting a better example, so that Heather doesn't end up stunted."
"Let me guess, he thinks the best way to teach her is for me to fuck him in front of her, then hold her legs apart for him to finish in her underage pussy."
"No. Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he does think that ideally you should be sharing guys with your daughter, and he is interested in being one of those guys...”
“Yeah, right. Only so he can get access to Heather.”
“But we didn't jump right there, we were still feeling each other out, so we talked about discipline strategies for a bit... he asked if I heard him spanking his daughter from the next room, and, well, we can suspect all we want that he was doing a lot more than spanking, but we’ve got no proof, so I told him yes, and he said he thought that you were probably too soft-hearted to spank Heather when she'd done wrong."
"I believe I am actually the only one who HAS spanked her bottom, unless there's a lot you haven't told me as well."
"No, you're right, I fessed up that was my fault... well, both of our fault, since we agreed as a couple not to spank, and that one time was an aberration, exceptional circumstances, but I admitted that I just couldn't find it in my heart to spank Heather. He said that was a problem for him, that he didn't feel comfortable accepting responsibility for our daughter during our vacation unless I granted him the right to spank her as he saw fit, even on her naked bottom. Well, we really needed a babysitter or we were going to have to cancel, so I agreed, and that was when he said that his philosophy was that once a girl's earned a spanking that you need to reinforce it, spank now and then for no reason... not as hard as when they've earned it, but just to remind them who's in charge... and that's why he was spanking Candy just then. He asked if I wanted to withdraw my request."
"Obviously you didn't."
"I didn't see any reason to. Candy didn't seem to mind her spanking, she was smiling. I said I'd instruct Heather to obey him and if her ass was sore at the end of two weeks, that was her fault. He was smiling too, after that. That was when we talked about masturbation, since Candy started doing it in front of me. He asked if I knew Heather's habits, and, well, I didn't, which he seemed to think was your fault, as a mother. Scott thinks you should be teaching her that masturbation is a natural thing, encouraging her to do it whenever she wants, even right in front of her parents, or during a just-a-reminder spanking from one of her guardians."
"Oh, I'm sure you'd enjoy that."
"So would you. But again, I stood up for you, I told him you had the masturbation talk with her, that she knew that it wasn't anything shameful, but that clearly our daughters were different, because I didn't think Heather would ever be comfortable with that. Scott thought that was just because you hadn't taught her right."
"Hadn't taught her right? I explained to her the different ways girls do it, and I basically bought her a dildo with one end shaped like a hairbrush, not the other way around. If he does manage to get his cock in her without scaring her off sex forever, he pretty much has me to thank."
"You don't have to convince me what a good mother you are, honey, but he did have a point, it's all been behind closed doors, we haven't seen her flick her bean or stuff her pussy yet, so we don't really know if your lessons hit home. That brush handle's seen SOME use, judging by the taste and smell, but it was good to have some confirmation from someone who's seen it."
"Wait... he's seen her masturbate already?"
"No, of course not, you haven’t let him near her since the pool party six years ago. But his daughter has. And he asked her, in front of me, about her habits... as a father, he said, I had a right to know. And it turns out Heather has been pretty shy about masturbation... in the past, anyway. Candy’s been working with her, giving her a separate set of lessons, a little more hands on, and correcting some of your mistakes."
"Mistakes?!"
"From Scott's perspective, at least. Focusing on getting the orgasm and getting back to normal life. Apparently that's selfish. His daughter's been teaching her to do something called edge."
"Oh, I see. Keep her horny and vulnerable, to her dad, right? That kid's a real piece of work."
"Now now, let's not judge, his philosophy makes a lot of sense. Scott was telling me that an orgasm should come from someone else, and it should be earned with acts of selflessness. And to hear his daughter tell it, they've been making good progress. When they started, Heather loved getting her pussy eaten, but didn't like returning the favor, since she was straight. The first few times she had to be tied up with stockings. Well, volunteered to be tied up that way, but that was the only way Candy got her tongue inside her. But now our little girl's become much more open... I mean, she may not be actually bisexual, but according to Candy she's now happy to donate her mouth bisexually to earn an orgasm, stockings or no stockings.”
“I’m surprised she was reluctant at first… I always had a feeling that she’d eat nothing but Candy if given the chance.”
“Ha-ha. How long have you been waiting to pull that one out. And they say Dads are the ones with bad jokes.”
“Oh, you’re still the king, I’ve just got a load of Candy jokes saved up that I’ve never really gotten to use. What does he expect when he gave her a stripper name?”
“And a stripper body. Candy might have lost most of the baby weight but the tits and ass are like a porn star.”
“Jim, I know you hate couple’s counseling, but if you keep complimenting a fourteen-year-old at the expense of your wife, that’s where we’re headed again.”
“Oh excuse me, miss ‘God those rapist’s cocks stretched me out, the smallest of them was at least twice your size.’”
“That wasn’t meant to make you feel bad, it was just a statement of fact.”
“So was this. You’re know you’re beautiful and I’d do anything for you, I’m just not the kind of guy who can turn down Candy if offered.”
“Did he?”
“Only oral. And as we’ve previously discussed, that’s not cheating. It’s not like I went there for that purpose, I just happened to compliment her tongue ring, and Scott asked if I’d ever had a girl with a tongue ring go down on me, and I said no, and, well, after he offered, it seemed rude to refuse, especially when I was there to ask him a favor. And he said it made a good demonstration of how his kids followed his instructions, she had no hesitation at all and did it right while she was breast feeding.”
“How was it?”
“Not as good as you, honey.”
“That’s sweet, even if I know you’re lying.”
“No, really. Experience beats gimmicks every time, and you’ve had more experience. With the same teacher.”

“I…. I didn’t think you knew about that. Bastard swore not to tell a soul.”
“He didn’t. Or at least, he didn’t tell me. But I’m not dumb. His dad married your mom when you were fourteen, so you had a lot of alone time with him, and I know my cock wasn’t the first you sucked. You were too good. Part of the reason I married you, after all. I also didn’t miss how horny you got every time you talked about him and the shit he got away with. It wasn’t anger, it was horniness.”
“Some of it was anger.”
“Okay, some of it was anger. But you got wet too. You got really wet every time you talked about how careful we had to be with Heather around him. Just like you did when talking about the vacation rapes, and that’s part of how I knew you kept wanting to go back. I bet you’re wet right now. Yep. Good thing we’ve got these seatcovers.”
“Not while you’re driving, please. It’s one thing to consider leaving Heather with Scott for two weeks, quite another to leave her an orphan in his care.”
“Just proving my point. I figured it was the same with Scott, your history with him was a mix of good and bad but it made you horny enough to keep from ratting him out. And he was the logical person to have trained you for oral sex. And probably more. Shit, for a while I thought Heather might be his, genetically.”
“I’ve never cheated on you Jim.”
“Yeah. But rapes don’t count as cheating, and as determined as you were that Heather was never alone with him unsupervised, you never completely cut off contact with him.”
“He’s part of my family, technically.”
“So I figured there was a chance Heather was...”
“There was no chance. Not with him. With my stepfather, yes, there was a chance, Mom forced me to thank him privately for paying for the wedding and agreeing to walk me down the aisle—her idea, not mine—and he forced himself on me one last time. But not cheating, rape. Just one I never told you about, I didn’t want to ruin the mood for the wedding. And we confirmed you’re Heather’s father.”
“Oh, I know. Eventually. So do you think your Mom knew what she was setting you up for when she said to thank him?”
“She had to at least consider the possibility. It wasn’t the first time. And you’re wrong, by the way, Scott wasn’t the one who trained me, it was him and his dad together.”
“Yeah, I guess that explains how you already knew how to take two dicks in your mouth back when you were saving my life by surrendering your body. The first time.”
“It’s not rocket science, Jim.”
“Maybe not, but there are issues to be worked out prior to blast off, insertion trajectories to consider, and even under thrust, you worked them out like an experienced NASA specialist. I could tell that even tied to a chair with one swollen eye.”
“A lot of practice, like you say. And yes, Mom knew about most of what they did to me. She never said anything, but she had to have. Walking in and then quickly out of a room where they were holding me down and playing with my body, ignoring all the filthy things he made me say down the hall when he left her room in the middle of the night, giving me cream for my rope burns or the welts on my ass but calling it eczema. Scott’s discipline policy he got from his father, by the way, only Roy was harsher. Mom was a real blind-eye type, aside from making sure I got a birth control implant. And even that, she insisted it was a ‘just in case’ implant for high school, and reassured me she knew that I was still a virgin, when I was leaking her husband’s cum on the seat on the ride there after a living-room couch rape she walked in on that she insisted was ‘play-wrestling’ when she decided not to interrupt.”
“And yet you don’t hate your mom.”
“She’s my mom!”
“Did you ever try and tell her directly what they were doing to you?”
“I didn’t want to put her in that position. I decided if she was working that hard to play oblivious, it must have been really important to her.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t because you liked it, just a little, and didn’t want it to stop?”
“Oh, more than a little. Maybe not Roy, at least all the time, I didn’t mind the couch rapes but when he really needed to blow off steam, sometimes he got too rough even for me... and by that time I liked it pretty rough.”
“Well that explains why you hate Roy so much.”
“Sure, but honestly I think I was going to hate him even if he was the most supportive stepdad in the world. In a way, the rapes, rope rigs, the nipple clamps, the face slaps, the hair-pulling, the choking, were a kindness because it gave me an excuse for the hatred I was going to have anyway, just because he wasn’t my dad. It was pretty fucking rough, and I’m more mature now and, thanks to counseling, I recognize the source of my feelings. The reason I don’t let Roy visit Heather—or let Mom visit, if he’s anywhere nearby--is not so much that I hate him as that I love my daughter too much to risk putting her through that... at least without clear sign she wanted to go that far.”
“But Scott’s okay.”
“Okay? No, but… if it’s going to happen? Yeah, I’d far prefer Scott. Scott was just my speed when I was fourteen. With him, it didn’t seem like he got off on my pain and humiliation, he just wanted me so much he didn’t care much about how I felt about it. He’d join in if his dad needed help holding me down or if I was tied up and his dad suggested he pull on my nipple because I wasn’t fucking back hard enough, he’d do it, but if it didn’t cost him anything, he let me have my dignity too. Roy would make me scream ‘Daddy’ in the middle of the night, if he’d had a bad day and needed to take it out on me, but with Scott, he’d just slip in and cover my mouth and use me like I was a dirty little secret, a hot piece of ass he got too horny to resist even though he knew he shouldn’t.”
“Just like your real Daddy would’ve.”
“We covered this in couples therapy, Jim, my father never actually molested me. He certainly never raped me in the middle of the night.”
“You just wished he did.”
“He died when I was at a very tender, very confusing age, and the stories I found on his computer were quite a revelation. They usually involved daughters just a little older than I was. I wish I had time to get to know him better, and yes, if I’d have the choice, I’d take him being alive and raping me whenever textual fantasies didn’t satisfy him anymore over being dead with a perfect record of resisting temptation. A bad daddy can still give you away at your wedding, even if it’s with a load of incest cum inside you.”
“That might have been your mom’s logic too. A perverted stepdad who was around was better than one stuck in jail.”
“Probably, yeah. I could see her deciding that way. She might have decided to turn a blind eye before she ever met Roy... the stories I found certainly weren’t a surprise to her. She pretended they were, but it was a shared computer, and I could tell. Besides, she never deleted them. In retrospect, maybe she was getting off on what she let Roy do… a lot of those stories had mothers who let their daughters get abused.”
“And you don’t resent her. Even for Roy.”
“God, what an asshole! Do you even know what a signal light is, motherfucker? … Anyway, no, I don’t resent Mom. She might have even married him for my sake. I was pretty obsessed with those Phil Phantom stories for a while, too, she’s caught me masturbating to them more than once, and cruel molesty stepfathers were a common theme of his, even though I was more interested in the ‘daughter takes pity on cuckolded daddy’ subgenre. She might have thought... Anyway, I’ve made my peace with her. And Roy, even if I don’t want Heather around her.”
“And what about Scott?”
“You’re not exactly giving me much choice there. What are we going to do, cancel our couple’s vacation? But I am going to call her when school lets out and tell her she doesn’t have to do what he says.”
“Suit yourself. But I meant more, if you liked Scott while you lived with him, why did you turn to hating him so much?”
“Cause he’s turned out to be a pedophile!”
“It doesn’t sound like that’s a dealbreaker.”
“Well, it was fine when I was a child and being around two pedophiles was exciting, especially since I was safe and it couldn’t ruin my life… but I was all ready to go off the birth control implant when I turned 18, and I caught him fucking this middle schooler I tutored for extra credit and extra money.”
“Maybe she just needed help in sex ed, too.”
“Ha-fucking-ha. Well, she sure got an education, but not from me. She’d start showing up for her lessons and running straight up to his room. At least it was easy money, but my reputation took a hit when she flunked History and wound up pregnant.”
“Why, did they think you did it?”
“It’s a good thing I never married you for your sense of humor, it’s gotten real old over the years. No, Melanie had a boyfriend they could blame it on. But Scott couldn’t even take the win, he asked if I could find another hot dumb girl to not-tutor. Which I did. I needed the money for college.”
“Those who don’t learn from history...”
“I’m telling you, you’re fucking hilarious Jim. Just look at my face.”
“Sorry. So it was jealousy.”
“No. Yes. Maybe a little. Anyway, I could see I was getting too old for him, and it was either stay Roy’s bondage slave while I mooned over a pedophile I’d already aged out the interest zone for, or take the out-of-state scholarship. After a lot of thought, I got the hell out of town.”
“Worked out pretty well for me. If it wasn’t for Scott I’d never have met you. All the more reason I owe him. But you’re wrong about one thing, he’s not a pedophile.”
“I know, he’s not been convicted, but let’s be real here, his track record speaks for itself.”
“That’s not true, according to Scott anyway. He says he enjoys girls of all ages, he just chases after young stuff because the smaller they are, the cuter they look with a swollen belly… but that he’d be happy to knock you up.”
“I thought you said he didn’t tell you about our history.”
“He didn’t, this was while we were discussing Heather. He warned me he wasn’t going to claim another kid as his own, but he did offer to impregnate you when we get back if we wanted to pretend we had twins. Said knocking you up has been on his to-do list for years.”

“And what did you say?”
“I said I thought you were too old for him…. Ow, hey, remember who’s driving! And I didn’t say you were too old, just too old for him, cause of all the stories… but no, he set me straight about his interests and made it clear that all you had to do was wear something around him that signaled that you wanted it and he’d fuck you till you couldn’t walk and were dripping with his baby batter, whether I’d given him the okay or not, even if Heather was watching and begging the load go inside her instead. ‘Your daughter I can turn into a slut any time, but your wife, I might not get that signal again.’”
“And your reaction was...”
“Considering how hard you work to avoid him, I said I could understand that and man-to-man if he got lucky with you, I wouldn’t blame him. And that his plan to spare Heather’s reputation by pretending we had twins had some merit, but there was a chance you’d already be pregnant when you get back. If not, I’d have to discuss it with you.”
“Jim… for there to be that chance…. Did you remember to put my birth control in our carry-on like I asked you?”
“Now that you mention it, it might have slipped my mind.”
“You know, it doesn’t stop working right away.”
“Just as well, I suppose, easier to pass them off as twins if they have the same father. Won’t have to explain why one of them is significantly darker in skin tone. Though that means we may have to let Scott stay for a while after we get back, too, since he probably given Heather the order to go off birth control yet either. But his new house won’t be ready for a month, so he shouldn’t have a problem with staying with us a little longer to ensure Heather’s fertile.”
“God, you’d really let him do that? You were so worried Heather wasn’t yours...”
“A lot’s changed since then. When I had my vasectomy, I thought one-and-done was going to be enough for me. But I also thought fidelity was super-important, and we’ve both grown up a little since we needed to take that first couple’s vacation. We’re in a pretty good place now, and I love being a dad, so why not have a few more kids around? And I sure as hell don’t want to go through an expensive reversal surgery and have to go through all that recovery bullshit, so, why not keep it in the family? The bad blood between you and your brother...”
“Step-brother, who raped me for most of my teen years.”
“Whatever, splitting hairs, and you like rape. Anyway, the bad blood’s lasted too long, and I’d like to have a closer relationship with my niece.”
“Step-niece. And I can picture the kind of relationship you want. Same kind you want with your daughter, in fact.”
“You’ve got such a dirty mind. I bet you’re wet as fuck right now....”
“Hands on the wheel. Besides, your finger’s likely to make me wet, even if I wasn’t already. And I may not have actually cheated on you before but if we let Scott stay with us, that’s changing, you realize… hell, if they strip search me at the airport, notice how wet I am and somebody offers, I’m not going to say no to that, either.”
“Yup. Wet and horny thinking about your daughter getting molested while you just let it happen. You really do take after your mother.”
“My dirty thoughts are more about Scott impregnating us both side by side while you have to stand by and watch, but the thought of a daughter taking pity on her poor cuckolded father was always one of my favorite bits of those stories too, so you might get your wish too.”
“You know what?”
“What are you doing...”
“Turning us around. If that’s the plan you’re dead set on, I can’t let you suffer through it… being this turned on, having to go through the security line, wait in the preflight lounge, much less the whole plane ride. You’re not trained to edge. Only one thing to do, drive back home and cancel the trip. We can make our couple’s trip a Staycation, be there when Scott brings Heather home after school, watch him work live.”
“The tickets are non-refundable, Jim. So’s the deposit on the resort, and you said yourself you can’t get the Bitcoin back from the rapists you hired. And who are they going to rape if we don’t show up? Each other? They’re alpha males, you can’t expect that. They’d probably break into the room of some unsuspecting couple on a romantic retreat...”
“Might change a few lives, like it did ours.”
“Continuing the cycle, huh? No, that might traumatize somebody… not everybody in the world has the same kinks. And anyway, I’ve earned some fun in the sun and a good gang fuck, and I bet Scott would prefer some alone time to work on Heather.”
“No worries about her kinks, huh?”
“Well, I’m still going to call her and tell her she doesn’t have to do anything that makes her uncomfortable.”
“There may be some discomfort. He talked about getting some stuff out of his storage unit to bring to the house. He said it was a tool to restrain a girl so she wouldn’t be able to touch herself when she got too close to the edge and needed to cum, but it sounded an awful lot like a bondage rig. He asked about whether there were exposed ceiling beams in our basement he could mount it on.”
“Well, if what you said Candy said was anything to go by, that sort of thing is already what she’s into… I guess it runs in the family. But having a mom around is probably going to make her feel inhibited, her first time.”
“Or she might feel better about having mommy and daddy cheering her on. And maybe a cousin, too. Sorry, stepcousin. We can even call your mom and step-dad in. Great big family orgy, centered on Heather. Doesn’t that sound like something out of one of those stories you were always into?”
“Yes, but we’ll get there either way. Maybe not with Roy, I’m not convinced Heather’s got much of a pain kink. Bondage is one thing, even spanking’s fine, but whips and clamps are another. So let’s leave him out unless the bondage rig doesn’t satisfy her. Besides, her being visibly pregnant for the big family orgy makes it even more like a Phil Phantom story… and this might be my only chance to play the willfully blind-eyed mother role he writes so well. I’m not throw that opportunity away AND give up my tropical vacation and my yearly gang-rape, so… no. Turn us back around.”
“Okay, if you insist. … Margaret?”
“Yes?”
“We’re on our way to the airport again.”
“Yes…?”
“I’m just saying. We were headed home for a little bit, but now we’re officially on our way again.”
“(sigh). Really?”
“It’s tradition. For good luck.”
“Fine. For tradition. Barbados! Here! We! Come!”
The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom