My summer started as a drag but got a lot better.

See, Momma had a lover she couldn't see anymore, and promised Daddy she never would see again, and Momma kept her promises. But a promise doesn't make feelings go away, and she never made THAT promise, that she'd stop loving Tino, or that she'd stop talking about him, wishing out loud he could fuck her one more time, or that they could kiss. Not just in front of me, but sometimes at the dinner table she'd say something like, "God, I miss that cock, though, it was impressive." Whenever Daddy was around I always stared somewhere else and pretended I hadn't heard, even a few months into the new arrangement when I had reason to agree about Tino's cock's impressive look, manly taste, or incredible feel, having had a chance to sample all three for myself. When it was just us girls around, that was one thing, I might tease her about it or even ask questions, like about how she fit it all in, but it was embarrassing to hear her talk that way in front of Daddy. Daddy didn't seem to mind though, except when Momma mentioned his name, that got him really steamed, but even when she didn't, we all knew who she was talking about. I asked Daddy about it once, he said everyone had their wishes and fantasies, and that was okay, but the essence of love was keeping promises.

I may have just been eleven when that promise was made, back just before the start of summer, but I thought that stunk. To me, the "essence of love" was wanting somebody else to be happy, even if it's with someone else. Like that old saying, if you loved something, let it go. When they were fighting really bad, I even kinda thought it might be better if Daddy had just let Momma go to be with Tino. Daddy could have found a girl who was head over heels for him, Tino could be my new stepdaddy, and everyone would be happy, or at least they wouldn't be yelling or miserable. And hey, I'd get twice the presents on my birthday. And maybe a second bedroom to decorate. Tino lived just down the street, if Daddy kept our house and Momma moved in with him, it would barely even be like a divorce, I'd still see everyone all the time no matter who I was living with.

Instead it was kind of like an anti-divorce, Momma kept the house and the husband and the cute daughter and somehow lost custody of Tino.

I hadn't. Nobody ever made ME promise not to see him, and I liked him. He was a lot different from Daddy. Obviously they looked pretty different. I mean, Daddy was pale like us, and pretty skinny, and he never let his blonde hair get long enough to get in his eyes, while Tino looked like some kind of wild man, with long dark hair down to his shoulders and golden skin and looked like he either worked out all the time, or that he didn't need to work out, that God just carved him out of stone that way like Momma said (although she usually adds 'with a cock like granite'). So sure, he was good looking. But plenty of guys were good-looking. What I liked about Tino was that he was nice. When he and Momma were doing their cheating thing, she'd take me over there after picking me up from school and he'd let me play his Playstation while Momma had a "massage" session that involved a lot of moaning and banging and left Mom weak in the knees afterwards, but before and after, Tino was always friendly, treated me like a friend he was happy to see rather than a kid, spent a few minutes with me and asked me about my friends in school or how classes were going, and sometimes he'd cook me up some spicy Italian sausage so I'd have something to eat while I was waiting for them to be done. So even after the big fight with Daddy, which ended in Mom's promise, I still saw Tino, and talked to him for a few minutes when I saw him. In fact, I was the one who had to give him the news. Talking to him on the phone or Facebook would break the promise, so Momma had me go over there to tell him.

It was a little weird telling this guy, my Mom's friendly but handsome massage therapist, that Momma couldn't see him anymore, that she still loved him, that his cock made her feel like a real woman for the first time, that his cum was wonderful and delicious, but that she could never speak to him again, except through me. That was pretty well the exact message. Momma made me memorize it, and wouldn't let me change any of the words. He cried quietly when he heard it. Then later Momma cried when I told her that he said he would always love her, and would miss not just her body (which he also described in detail the parts he liked, mostly her vibrant red hair, her long legs, her butt that apparently wouldn't quit, her tight, thirsty pussy, and her delicious-looking small boobs... his words, not mine... they didn't seem small at all to me) but also her soul. He said that the fantasies they shared would keep him warm at nights and anyone else he fucked would be just a minor substitute for her and he hoped she didn't mind because his body had needs. Then I had to go back that same day and tell him that she understood his needs and approved of them but that she'd consider it a personal favor if he waited until she was ready.

Tino agreed, and I guessed that I'd be the one to eventually tell him when Momma was ready for him to move on. I didn't expect that I was going to be the minor substitute, but that's what happened this summer. Of course, it didn't happen right away... if it had, maybe I would have chickened out. Daddy made me promise that I'd stay away from boys until he said it was okay, and I figured men were probably included in that, and that "stay away from" meant "don't do dirty stuff" since you can't exactly stay away from boys entirely, especially at school. But I'd promised, and Daddy was right, keeping promises was important even if you don't like keeping them.

Except I'd also promised Momma that I'd pass messages to Tino whenever she wanted, and that was a promise I really wanted to keep keeping. I had a selfish reason... it was summer! I wasn't supposed to go out without permission, and permission didn't come very often... after making her promise to Daddy, it was like Momma was grounded, because our town is so small that it was hard for her to go out without maybe running into Tino. I don't know if it was because she didn't want me going out when she couldn't, or if she was just starting to get overprotective, but if I wanted to do something other than sit around the house, mostly I got told no. And it wasn't one of those things where I could just ask Daddy, because he WAS overprotective and almost always said no too, afraid I was going to see boys even though I promised. But it didn't take long to figure out that, from Momma, the 'no' would turn into a 'yes' by reminding her I could check if Tino had a message for her on the way home from the swimming hole or riding my bike down to that store that has a few arcade games in the back. I mean, that wasn't the only reason I did it... I really did want to help Momma, she seemed so depressed. And it seemed romantic at the time, she still loved Tino but couldn't be with him.

I didn't blame her for loving him more than Daddy... Daddy could be hard to love sometimes. In fact, if she wasn't having sex with Tino anymore, their love seemed harmless and pure, even beautiful, like a teacher who stares at your legs all day in school but can't do any more. So that's why I made the promise, to get an excuse to go out when I wanted and also to keep that pure, beautiful love going and, thirdly, to listen to them describe what they wanted to do to each other and get a better idea how it all worked just in case next year my teacher ever wanted to give me more than looks and I felt like breaking a promise.

I hardly expected that pure innocent love would soon have me walking down the street carrying a load of cum in my mouth like a momma bird coming to feed her baby... only I guess I was the baby bird coming to feed Momma. It was funny, when I told her about how I felt she started calling me Baby Bird, and even Daddy started doing it too even though he didn't know why. Pretty soon it was my new nickname, spread to people outside my family even.

Of course, the dirty stuff didn't start with my baby bird act... and it sure as hell didn't end there... if it had, I would be writing this assignment for regular school instead of only wondering who's legs Mr. Perry was staring at this year while I write it for you. A short-distance cum carrier could go through school with a spotless reputation as long as nobody smelled her breath or checked her panties at the wrong time, but a pregnant twelve-year-old, that's serious stuff... but it didn't start with serious stuff, it was all baby steps.

I am so down

The first of those steps was when, on the way home from playing some video games, Tino waved me down and told me to give Momma a kiss for him. He leaned over the fence and planted one on my forehead, told me to give Momma one just like that, and say it was from him. Well, I did, and she had one in return, on the side of his lip that I had to run out and give him while running back to the store for ice cream sandwiches. The next day, coming home from the creek's swimming hole wearing my old one-piece suit, Tino invited me up on his porch and gave me one on the lips, with tongue, and even though it was intended for Momma and not me, it was my first real experience kissing, and got me all hot and flustered, like butterflies in the stomach, but what was even weirder was giving that to my own Momma, sticking my tongue in her mouth, listening to her moan softly in response and wondering if I'd done that with Tino.

That lasted about a week, and let me tell you, a girl who's never been really kissed by a boy, or a girl, can get quite an education in kissing just being a go-between between two lovers. At least two lessons daily, with Tino teaching me exactly how he kisses Momma, and Mom teaching me exactly how to kiss back. In both cases, it involved a lot of tongue and heavy breathing afterwards. The biggest eye-opener was how much the kiss made me want to do more... not necessarily with them, I wasn't sure I wanted to get in the middle any more than I already was, but on the walk between Tino and Mom, or Momma and Tino, if I passed by a cute boy (sometimes even a girl) I wanted to just grab his shirt, pull him behind a building, and get some kissing of my own. Only I knew that if I did that, I'd "lose" the kiss I was delivering, and also I'd be breaking my promise to Daddy. Besides, most of the kids my age here are jerks and I wouldn't want to kiss them. They're especially mean to girls with freckle-faces. At least Tino always called my freckles pixie-kisses and never makes ginger jokes, so I didn't mind delivering kisses for him.

Soon I wasn't just delivering kisses. In fact, soon I wasn't even delivering kisses, not really, although sometimes Mom would throw in a "give him a kiss on his cock for me" when I went down the street, as often as not, it wasn't really given to pass on.

But it started with a message attached to a kiss. After Tino and I tongue-wrestled on his family room couch for about five minutes, I finally forced myself to break away before I crossed that line where I was kissing for me and not just as a go-between. I'd decided that line was three down-below clenches after I started to feel my panties getting wet, although each time we did it the line seemed to get pushed back a little more. A few days earlier, the line was "panties wet" and I swore to myself not to go past it. But the thing about promises to yourself is that you can also let yourself out of them, and I'd been doing that too often. I succeeded in staying in line this time, at the third down-below clench, instead of pushing it back again mostly because I had something I had to remember to say.

"Momma wanted me to tell you something," I said, gasping for breath.

"What's that?"

The moment after he spoke, his lips brushed against my neck, which I made a mental note of so I could pass it along. Then I got into the message. "Momma says to tell you she really misses your cum." I knew the word but still wasn't exactly clear on what 'cum' was when Momma told me, so the first time I repeated it for her, I said, "misses you coming over," but she made me repeat her exactly. "She misses the smell, the feel, and the taste, like a junkie misses heroin." This, she promised me, was just a romantic metaphor.

"Aw, that's sweet," Tino said. "Makes me feel bad, though, that I can't help her out. Unless... you think you could bring your Momma something?" I nodded. I'd already passed messages, kisses, and once a flower, so I didn't see why he even needed to ask. "Hold out your hand then."

I did, and that's how I went from being a girl who'd never even seen a real wiener in person to one who had a thick cock in her hand and watching it spew out. It had to be a cock because it certainly wasn't a wiener, a thin hot-dog looking thing like I'd pictured, or something more like a sausage for adults. This made even a sausage look small, so I could understand it needing its own word, and Momma says it's okay to use in homework because that's the real word. Just like 'fuck' and 'cum,' if that's what I'm talking about and not just a swear. So anyway, Tino just pulled down his shorts and slapped it in my hand and began rubbing it as I watched in surprise. I guess the size wasn't THAT much of a surprise, Mom had described it enough (although at first I thought she was exaggerating), and sometimes I'd seen or felt it through his shorts, but it's a whole different thing when it's naked in your hand, and it was a huge surprise that he could do that to a little girl. "Don't worry," he said as though I'd complained. "I'm just pulling out some cum for you to give your mother."

"Okay," I said, and waited. Sure took a lot of pulling and a lot of time which gave me time to become used to the sight of a big cock and learn some things about it I hadn't known, like how the head dripped like a runny nose, kind of like how I dripped after a long kiss with tongue. And I learned how warm it was, warmer even than his hands. And how the skin over most of it looked like it was stretched tight but actually slid around on the hard part like there was a layer of butter between them. And how a guy breathes funny and gets red as he works on pulling out some cum. And, in the end, I learned it worked a lot like a big water gun... you do a lot of pumping and then it shoots out all by itself. I never would have guessed that. The first burst just completely shot past my hand and onto my blouse, only the end of it landing on me, all slimey. Then he took my hand in his and made it into more of a cup, and aimed better and the next squirt went into my palm. And more came after. A lot more. By the end there was a runny pool of warm grey-white slime in my hand that smelled like my Momma's seat after the ride home from a massage session. "There you go, darling," Tino said, as he wiped his cock on my blouse, which would have been rude if it wasn't already messed up. "You bring that to your Momma with my compliments."

"Okay," I said. "What compliments do you want me to give her?"

He grinned, and said, "Tell her she's still the hottest piece of ass I've had and I miss having a mouth like hers on my cock."

I memorized the message, and left. He had to hold the door open for me because my hand was full. That was the longest walk home yet, not only did I usually have the usual anxiety I usually had now while leaving Tino's, but I also had to keep my hand steady so the cum didn't spill out. It's harder than you think... it was a good thing I didn't ride my bike that day or I'd have lost most of it on the handle!

Momma was waiting for me on the front porch, saw how I was holding my hand and asked what I had in there. I showed her, and a bright smile lit up her face and she held the door open for me and took me to the living room couch, where I usually gave her the kisses from Tino, or got kisses to give to Tino (sometimes I lost track on which we were, there was at least one Saturday where I just kept going back and forth between them because each of them insisted that the kiss was for express delivery... good thing Daddy likes to nap on Saturdays!). Then she took my hand and started licking it all over. Have you ever had someone lick your hand? It's weird and it tickles, but it's kind of nice, too. I giggled and tried to pull away, but not for real, just far enough to make Momma work for it. Pretty soon, my palm was wet. "Mmm, thank you baby, I missed this so much. But I have to ask you..." she looked at me, like she was afraid I was going to lie to her. "Did you taste any of it?" she asked.

"No!" I said.

I thought I saw her face fall, like she was disappointed and she said, "Because it's okay if you did, it's natural to be curious and it is delicious... you know he drinks pineapple juice just to make it sweeter. I just want to know if you did."

"No, gross, Momma, of course I didn't," I said.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Because I know how much Tino cums, and there just isn't as much as usual. Especially if he hasn't had me to drain his beautiful balls regularly. Again, I'm not mad, I'm happy to share it, but..."

"I didn't!" I insisted. Now it made sense why she was disappointed, she thought I was lying to her. "I guess he did spill some," I explained, and showed her the dark wet spot on my blouse. "And some might have come out on the way." Some of it was runny and could have slipped through the gaps in my fingers.

"Oh, okay. Well, next time you do it, try your best not to spill any, okay?" She ruffled my hair, and added, "Because that stuff is gold."

That's how I knew this wasn't going to be a one-time thing, but then she wanted to kiss again and I didn't think about it. I did think about how her kisses tasted different, stronger somehow. And she kept breaking away to catch breath and asking me to describe Tino's cock, what it looked, felt, and tasted like, so she could remember. I had to tell her I hadn't tasted it. "Oh... well, that's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to."

The next time I carried cum home to Momma, I did try a little taste for myself. I like it now but then, I didn't see what was so delicious about it, sure it was a little sweet, but it seemed too strong and the smell of it made me wrinkle my nose, and I decided I'd let Momma have it. She didn't ask if I'd tasted it, but she did complain there wasn't enough, and that she waited too long for me to come back, and that if I helped Tino he could cum faster.

Okay, maybe I was curious how that would work, so after a few times I asked if he wanted help and he showed me how to 'jack it off'. It was like holding an animal, a tame one, one that wouldn't hurt but you could feel it alive in your hands until finally got and angry and spit. The next time he showed me how kissing it made it even faster, but I had to be careful or it might go off in my face.

That happened a few times, actually, usually when I sucked on his balls, which was kind of neat, except for the hair, but then sometimes it would explode and before I could get my hand in position it would go off and hit me in the face. Once, he held my hair real tight and wouldn't let me pull away until my face was covered, but he said he was sorry after, he just got carried away. Those cum-faced walks home were the worst, it was stressful hoping people wouldn't see and sometimes it would drip into my mouth on the way home, and sometimes one of my eyes was stuck shut. And once I got home, it got even weirder, because lately Momma wanted his cum inside her, not her mouth but her pussy, she'd been having me rubbing my spermy hands all over her, like she was trying to get pregnant but she told me sperm couldn't survive for that long so it was safe.

yes!

I didn't mind if she did get pregnant... she told me she wanted to, but Daddy didn't want to knock her up again, or couldn't, I'm not sure which, and part of the reason she'd cheated with Tino was because she wanted another baby. I would have liked to have a little brother or sister too, and as long as she wasn't cheating by doing it, I didn't see anything wrong with it. So when I rubbed Tino's cum into her pussy, I sometimes pretended it was going to get her pregnant even though it was safe. But when it got in my face, sometimes she would lick me all over like a puppy, and sometimes Momma would ask me to get between her legs and have me rub off the cum in her slit. I guess I didn't mind that too much either, she was shaved and clean and smelled even better than Tino, it was just weird. I know girls my age who say they've never seen their mother's pussy, much less had it rubbed all over their face like a living towel. But the kisses afterwards seemed to be so much more passionate, and sometimes they weren't instructions to be delivered to Tino, they were just a thank you for helping Momma, so it was okay to enjoy them past any limits. So it was a little weird but I was really getting to enjoy helping her out any way she asked.

Of course, I knew helping her out could still get us into a lot of trouble, and one day Momma told me I couldn't carry cum on my face anymore because the Reverend saw me walking home like that and started asking her questions until she convinced him I'd just been eating sticky buns. Lucky he believed her this time because I didn't have a reputation as one of those girls, but if it kept happening, and got back to Daddy, we could all be in serious trouble.

That's how I started my baby bird act, and got really used to the taste of Tino's cum, and learned to really suck a cock. Not right away, at first I just licked and kissed like usual, and opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue while he squirted, then walked home with my cheeks puffed out and Tino's sperms swimming around my teeth (Momma showed me a website when I finally asked exactly what cum was and ever since then I often picture all the tiny tadpoles swimming around). Once I got home, sometimes Momma would lick the stuff out of my mouth, less like a kiss and more like a deep cleaning with her tongue, and sometimes she would ask if I would please kiss his cum into her pussy. I think I liked the second type more, it was like I was a baby bird kissing a baby brother into the Momma Bird.

The baby bird method worked pretty well, but not perfectly. Have you ever tried carrying stuff in your mouth for a long time? You just want to spit or swallow soon. I started taking my bike on these trips, but if I hit a bump sometimes I'd accidentally swallow the whole load. Sometimes I did it even walking, I couldn't hold it anymore and I had to swallow. And then of course there were the times that I met somebody I knew and I tried to answer in just nods or head shakes but eventually they'd ask me something specific and I had to swallow it all so I could answer back. Sometimes Tino's cock would even be all at the back of my throat when he started cumming and I couldn't help but swallow then. Whenever I lost a mouthful, I'd usually go right back for another load but there was never as much the second time. And sometimes I only swallowed some of the first load and managed to keep some in a puffed-out cheek to take home, but either way I had to watch Momma sulk about not getting her full delivery.

I think it was Tino who first suggested that I try carrying it in my panties. At first I didn't think that was a good idea at all, it meant he'd be able to look at my pussy, and my panties would get all messy, but then, my panties were already getting wet from all the kissing, and if the cum was in there, some would get on my pussy and Mom would want to lick that, too. By this time I knew how good it felt when something rubbed there because I'd been rubbing myself every night, and a tongue seemed even better than fingers or a toothbrush.

So I sucked Tino to get him ready and then when he was about halfway done I lifted my legs, pulled the underwear down (or up, I guess), and let him rub up against my crack until he was ready to burst, then I pulled the panties down and caught all his cum. It was a huge success, and walking home with a sticky mess between my legs felt pretty neat once I got used to it. Not nearly as neat as Momma licking me clean, though. That felt amazeballs when she cleaned me, like she was determined to hunt down every last tadpole. Even after I was clean, she kept on licking me until I had a big-O orgazim, which I'd had before alone but never with another person which was so much better. A few times we'd rub our pussies together, so she could get the cum in her pussy too, and I'd tell her all the things Tino said... really dirty things and it was fun being allowed to say them to Momma, once I got used to it. Tino also liked to talk about fucking me, and at first I held that back, but once when we were doing what Momma called scissoring, and our pussies were rubbing together and it felt good, it just slipped out. "Tino said he wants to stick his cock all the way inside of me, take my cherry and fill me with his cum." When I said this, I thought she was angry because her lips would curl up and I could see her teeth, and she'd rub her pussy even more like she needed help to get to her own big-O because she was jealous. But then she moaned louder and longer than ever. After we were done, we cuddled up and I promised her I wouldn't actually fuck him, I wasn't interested in Tino, I was just her go-between.

"Oh, no, sweetie," she said. "It's okay if you want to fuck him. In fact, I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind, so the cum gets in deep and stays until I need it. I'm sick of sucking on your panties." She always did that after cleaning me out. "I keep getting lint in my teeth." That was funny, and she pulled me close while I laughed. "I'd rather get it directly from my sweet little girl. Besides, this way you could wear your new swimsuit." She'd gotten me one and threw my old one piece out because she thought all the cum I'd been carrying had ruined it. She took me shopping for a bunch of new panties too but those nobody but Tino had to see. The new bathing suit was still in my drawer, untouched except for a few try-ons in front of a mirror and the salesman. I don't think you've seen it yet. It's much more fashionable but it takes a brave girl to wear it. It was a tiny yellow two piece with just tiny triangle patches held over my nipples with strings, and the bottom was like a mini-thong that always had my pussy lips wrapped around it. It was obviously pretty useless as a cum-catcher, so I hadn't even tried. I wasn't as brave back then, and I'd had it for a week but still even hadn't gotten up the nerve to wear that even just to the swimming hole.

I wasn't sure whether I was more worried about Tino being allowed to sticking his cock inside of me, or wearing my new swimsuit in public. "Isn't that gonna get me pregnant?" Even if Tino had the same snip-snip Daddy might have had, I was afraid just wearing it to the swimming hole might do it to me, because the last time I was there, in my one piece, I watched the Murphy brothers and their older cousin pin down Lacey Hall and take turns fucking her. She asked the first one to pull out because she was definitely going to get pregnant since she started having periods, but he said that if she didn't want it she shouldn't have worn such a sexy swimsuit. I didn't actually see if they did cum inside her because before they got done I remembered I had to go deliver a kiss from Tino, but her family left town this summer and I'm pretty sure that was why. It was only a few days after hearing about that rape that Momma bought me my new one.

Momma hugged me closer to her sweaty body so her tit was in my face and I popped her nipple in my mouth and sucked. It was a reflex, but I knew Tino liked sucking on them so it was easy to let her think it was from him. "If he does cum inside you, I'll do my best to suck it all out, and you're pretty young, so I think you're safe." Lacey was only six months older than me. "But if you do, well, you're just carrying a baby for me from him. He can't give one to me himself, even though he wants to, the sperm doesn't survive that long, so just think of it as another kind of message."

Damn right it is, but it's a message that everyone can overhear once my belly starts getting big. But I couldn't resist, I'd been the go-between that summer and learned and felt so much that it was hard to quit. I'd delivered kisses, cum, and even big-Os.. I couldn't decide which I liked more, getting them to pass on, or seeing how much they enjoyed getting them from me.

I even started to think that I wasn't the messenger, I was the message between two sex-crazed lovers who couldn't be together. That's why Momma was always giving me sexy outfits to wear when I went out, because she wanted to make sure Tino knew it was okay to use me instead of her. People always talked about using people for sex... now, instead of using each other for sex, Momma and Tino both used me. It was so dirty and yet so romantic.

Well, of course, I did get pregnant. That's not going to be a surprise to you... I mean, if I hadn't, I would be writing my "How I spent my summer vacation" story in Mister Perry's class and not here. Sure came as a surprise to me though! I hadn't even had a period yet!

I'd been going to Tino pretty regularly by the time I found out, and gotten used to him getting all the way inside me. The first time hurt. Well, not at first, he took it slow and took a few minutes just working the head inside and I felt all stretched out already and like an idiot I said, "So this is fucking, huh?"

He laughed and said, "No, that's not fucking, this is fucking," And he held onto my shoulder and then pushed in deep and started thrusting in and out and that really stretched me out, stretched me so much it felt like I tore apart. I walked so bow-legged on the way home that that part of me was wide open and dripping, so I didn't have any cum left to feed Momma. And I didn't even take the whole thing! I almost decided I'd never go back, but Momma took care of me and gave me cuddles and ice cream and showed me how to stretch and promised that next time would be better, and after a week or two.... okay, it still hurt sometimes, but it was a good hurt! And Momma still loved sticking her tongue way up my pussy or even my butthole to get at any sperm she could (even though by the time I got home it was usually leaking right out anyway, she still dove deep and stayed a long time). I guess she missed some, but not for lack of trying! She probably would have licked my eggs clean if her tongue could reach that far.

Anyway, there I was having loads of fun. Then I started puking in the mornings. I thought I was just sick, thought I was gonna miss out on the last week of summer, except I was just sick sometimes and fine at others. Momma noticed my nipples were extra sensitive when I was passing on an orgasm, had me bike down to the store and get one of those tests, and sure enough, my pee turned it blue.

"So I guess I'm giving you a baby after all," I told Momma.

She bit her lip like she was upset, but she hugged me, and when she pulled away she was fighting back tears. I asked her why and she told me that she was just sad that Tino might never be part of his baby's life, because of the stupid promise Daddy made her make. I said I wished I could help, and she said that there was one thing that maybe we could do, make Daddy change his mind.

Well I'm sure I don't have to tell you how you change a Daddy's mind, but Momma did have to teach me. In a way, it was really just more of being a go-between, because Daddy wouldn't listen to Momma about Tino. Fantasizing out loud in front of him was fine, but if she tried to raise the subject of the promise directly he just shut down before she could get a word in edgewise. But if I approached him just the right way, maybe we could talk to him about it and make him see light.

We practiced a lot at home before Daddy got off work, and then I showed off my new swimsuit at home outside of my bedroom for the first time. Before I'd keep it on under the clothes and just changed when I went to the creek or to see Tino. This time, I really was showing off, strutting out my room like it was nothing, then laying on the floor ass-up, legs spread, in front of Daddy while he watched TV. Well, he certainly wasn't watching it too closely, not with me lying on my stomach with a string up my butt and my pussy gobbling up more. Then at dinner Momma just made hotdogs and, like she showed me, I said I wanted to cut down on carbs, so I took out the wiener out of the bun and sucked on it while Daddy watched me all wide-eyed. Then after dinner while Momma did the dishes, Daddy was on the couch again and I flopped over on his lap. I was still wearing my swimsuit all this time and I felt his hard lump up against my belly. It didn't show yet (okay maybe it was getting a little chubby) but I had a baby in there and the thought that Daddy's penis had just poked my baby in the face made me giggle. I guess he thought it was the hard-on that was making me laugh so he said sorry. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Baby Bird, you haven't been fooling around with boys, have you?"

"Of course not, Daddy," I said. "I promised." And I kept that promise. Tino wasn't a boy, and the Murphy brothers... well, when they saw me try out my new swimsuit for actual swimming, they weren't fooling around either, they just plain force fucked me in practically the same spot they did Lacey, except they didn't have their cousin with them that day so I didn't get to find out what it was like to have all three holes filled at once. But I did learn what it was like to get pushed into the wet sand and how it feels to get choked or have my hair pulled while someone forces himself into one of my holes (it's actually not as unpleasant as it sounds! It's kinda another kind of good hurt!), and to have to wash cum out of your ass in the cold creek water (that was worse, but I had to do it... sure, Momma would have licked it out of me there too, thinking it was from Tino, but what if she noticed it didn't taste the same? Then I'd have some explaining to do!). But I wouldn't call any of that 'fooling around', and there was certainly nothing romantic about it. They kept calling me a little red-headed slut, and there was no kissing either time it happened. They said I'd regret it if I didn't come back the next day and I didn't want to take the chance that they were right. All the kisses I've had were kisses that I passed on from Tino, or Momma's long tonsil-tickling thank-you kisses, so I say I kept my promise. "What makes you think I would fool around with boys?"

"It's just you're dressing awfully funny for a girl your age."

"It's just my new swimsuit, Daddy. You don't like it?" I made sure to sound real sad at that.

"I didn't say that, Baby Bird, I like it a lot, but it's a little mature for a girl your age," he said.

"Momma chose it for me. She said if I gotta be stuck around the house, I should at least look sexy. You think I look sexy right?" I thought his dick was hard before! My baby's probably gonna need an eye patch when he's born, the way it jammed into me!

"You sure do, but you really shouldn't be looking sexy," he said.

"Why not? Momma told me you'd like it." She also told me that was why she turned to Tino in the first place, Daddy only liked younger girls, not both like Tino, and so Momma didn't excite him like he used to. They still loved each other but they weren't 'sexually compatible.' which I think means their parts don't fit right. "She also told me she realizes how selfish she's been and if you wanted, I could give you all the kisses that she says she should have given you. And do other stuff too." Daddy noticed Momma standing there, towel in her hand, and looked at her like he thought I might have been lying, but she nodded.

Well that got me pulled over his shoulder and rushed to his bedroom like he thought one of us might change their mind. Pretty soon I was delivering kisses and licks to Daddy's cock and he took off my swimsuit and stuck his fingers deep inside me like he was digging for a cherry that wasn't there.

I did it just like Momma told me, licking, kissing, and sucking, but not like Tino when I did it fast, I did it slow and take lots of pauses. He was smaller than Tino so I could easily have taken him all the way into my mouth but I never did. Momma's plan meant I couldn't let him pop, so whenever I thought he might, I settled back and let Daddy's fingers or tongue do magic on me or enjoyed a big-O.

I guess I pushed him too far which was just far enough, because finally he picked me up and lay me down on the edge of the bed, on my back, and began to spread my legs. I followed Momma's advice and waited just until he pressed the head up against my hole, and then cried, "Daddy, stop!"

He looked surprised and hurt. "What?"

"I promised Momma, I wouldn't let you fuck me without her permission. And a promise is a promise."

We had him there, so I was sent out to ask Momma for permission, then came back and asked him if she had permission to see Tino, and Daddy got red faced like he always did when he heard his name and said "No" and I told him that meant "No" too and pretty soon he was all grumpy and I left for the living room because who wants to hang around with a grumpy gus?

I thought the plan didn't work but a few minutes later he came out and asked me to go get Momma for a family meeting and we hashed it all out together. Daddy could fuck me all he wanted if he let Momma out of her promise not to see Tino or anyone else.

We saved the news that I was pregnant for a few days later after Daddy got used to fucking me. He was pretty good at that too... but not as good as Tino. Anyway, when he found out about the new addition to our family, he didn't like it, but he agreed with Momma's plan, to let Tino move in with us. Not right away, of course, but first they had a meeting, just to see if they could stand to be in the same room together.

Well, they could, at least with Momma trying to make nice and me being a go-between. They might not have liked each other, but they learned to share. A lot of sharing going on that night. We shared time, we shared a nice meal from McDonalds, we shared Momma's Netflix account to watch some of her favorite shows. They all shared me, too, of course, even Momma. Tino and Daddy could also share Momma, as long as their balls didn't touch. I guess she'd started to excite him again after all. Daddy still didn't seem all that happy with any of that sharing, but there was one thing that turned him around... Tino went out for a few minutes and brought back beer to share with all of us. I say "all of us", but I got left out of that sharing, except for a lot of "recycled beer", which I drank a lot of that night. That's what they called pee after drinking beer, and after Daddy did it the first time, they all wanted to give me some so they wouldn't have to get up from their comfy spot on the couch. That was a new one, I got to be the go-between between three people and the bathroom. It didn't taste very good, especially at first, but I got used to it. Swallowing it was a lot easier than carrying it in my mouth, anyway, since you didn't have to taste it as long, but of course that meant I was always running to the bathroom and missing out on the show. Mom was the worst, too, because it got all over my chin until I learned just where I should lock my lips. Now I can do it without spilling a drop.

By bedtime, with both me and Momma begging Daddy to let Tino stay the night, he sighed and said "Okay, but I'll be damned if a guy moves into my home to fuck my wife and daughter and doesn't at least pay a share of the bills." That was Momma's plan, but right then they were just talking about staying the whole night, not for good, we thought that would take a lot of these sharing nights, but since Daddy jumped ahead, that was what wound up happening. Tino was happy to sell his house, which gave him a nest egg he could live off even while paying rent to Daddy.

So it turns out I didn't get two rooms after all. Daddy wouldn't let Tino stay in Momma's bed, the "marital bed" that was one step too far, so he stays with me in mine. I kind of miss having my own room sometimes. It's going to be even more cramped once the baby comes. But overall I'm really really happy how things turned out. There's nothing like waking up with a hard cock sliding between your butt-cheeks and knowing it's yours whenever you want it (though lately he carries me into the shower to do it in the mornings because between the baby and Tino's cock, my bladder gets a good squeezing and if there's anything in there, it usually comes squirting out during a morning fuck!)

Anyway, now summer's over, but even though we all live together now, I still get called upon to be the message-passer, the go-between, all the time, even sometimes when we're both in the same room. Daddy and Tino sometimes have me go-between them when there's almost no space for me to fit. It's a little angry because they still are very different people and get into fights but they both like me and Momma so we're all learning to share. And whenever I'm between them, no matter how rough the message is, we all seem to get a big-O out of it and are smiling at the end. Sometimes wet and smelling like pee, if we don't remember to let me go first.

Daddy even invited Tino out fishing with him next summer, as long as I come of course, to keep the peace (I bet there'll be a lot more recycled beer! Dad never likes leaving the dock if he doesn't have to... he's afraid the fish'll choose just that time to bite). So we're not there yet but I think we're getting to be one big happy family.

Mostly though, since Daddy's still at work all day, and they took me out of regular school, I spend my time with Mom and Tino. Or I use to. I'm happy spending all day delivering big-Os between them and some of their friends, but Momma said that it starting to interfere with my homeschooling. So that's why she sent me to spend my days with you, Grandpa. Since you're retired and your sex drive has started to settle down a little, you can make sure I do all my homework before I get back to delivering messages.

That reminds me, though, Momma wanted me to pass on a message for you too. When you're done marking this, take your little blue pill and come see me in the bathroom!

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

As always, loved it. Are you going to post your old PP tributes here, or just heretofore unreleased ones?

Outstanding as ever, man.

Are there any other people that even do Phil Phantom type stories?

Been a while, sorry. I wanted to get stories out earlier, but January's been a bit of a trashfire for me, emotionally speaking at least so I haven't gotten a lot done. Magic Marker 2's done its first few rounds of edits and I'll start posting it piecemeal in the next week or so, but in the meantime, here in this thread, another Phil Phantom story, "Gotta Support Your Team."

Gotta Support Your Team - A Phil Phantom Tribute (M+f,ff, fg, best, prost, extreme, more)

"We really need you to do us a favor. Carlos and his dog are waiting in the playground. Let's go there, let him fuck your tight little cunt and cum inside while we stream it all live. It'd really help out the team." Those were not the words Peyton was expecting to hear in broad daylight in a public park, said to her, a tiny natural blonde freshman who was still sometimes mistaken for a middle schooler by those who didn't know her, and well-known to be saving all of her virginities by those who did, and what's more, said out loud and without any shame or expectation of offense taken, by the captain of the high school football team.

Just before it happened, Little blonde-haired Peyton was on her way home from her cheerleading practice, still wearing with pride the glittery blue-and-white outfit that bore her school's name, and taking her usual route through the park when she noticed a group of four boys from her school lurking by the exit to her street.

'Boys' was the word she might have used if she was talking to one of her friends or her parents, in the event that, as she somehow already sensed was going to happen, they wound up making her late. "Oh, I stopped to talk to some boys from school," she might say, although with her parents she might have said "kids" just to leave it open that they might be girls and therefore nothing to worry about. But to Peyton's eyes, her heart, and a space between her thighs, these weren't boys, or kids, they were men, not just seniors but members of the varsity football team called the Predators, and who looked the part... muscle-bound hunks that dwarfed her or most other schoolgirls. Most of them were bigger than her father, mostly with darker skin, too, which would piss him off if she were alone with them almost as much as them being at least 3 years older than her, sometimes more. Some Predators were officially men, adults under the law, even, having reached their eighteenth birthday through having early birthdays or being held back for poor grades. The very prospect of walking into a group like that was intimidating, to most girls anyway.

But Peyton was a cheerleader, not yet head cheerleader but arguably (at least, enough that she did not think herself conceited for thinking it so) the star cheerleader on the freshman, or junior varsity team. Cheerleading required confidence. Besides, she knew all these guys, at least a little, even though they were seniors and Predators, that is, on the varsity team, they had school spirit in common and so the groups mingled. Some mingled in a way that was illegal, even with the Romeo and Juliet laws, and some even mingled in ways that were illegal no matter what age you were because animals were involved, but hey, the Predators got wild after a win. She'd never gotten wild with them, couldn't afford her reputation ruined or the retaliation of Mrs. Schumacher, the cheerleading coach, not if she wanted to pursue her cheerleading dreams all the way to college, but she'd had fun watching and knowing she was probably one step closer to head cheerleader when other girls did. Her near-perfect reputation even protected her, in her mind, because although lewd offers came with the territory of being a pretty girl, and got lewder and more frequent because she was a cheerleader, everyone at school knew where she stood and if anyone tried to push her past her boundaries there'd be hell to pay, and who'd want that when there were so many easier girls?

So, when they saw that she'd emerged from around a corner in a path, she had nothing to be intimidated by... these were peers. She shot them a dazzling smile, more dazzling than most because of the braces, just as a friendly smile in passing, then, noticed their change in posture, straightening, attentive to her, so prepared to give them a brief hello while going on her way. When she got close enough, the head quarterback, Dave, one of the few whites on the team, and one of those who was over eighteen, spoke first, "Hey, Peyton, just who we were looking for."

That was a little more than a passing hello she'd been expecting, but she liked the thought of them looking for her, and so she stopped. "What can I do for you boys?" she said sweetly, bracing herself for one of those come-ons, which she'd refuse of course but enjoy the thought of all night. She wasn't expecting one quite that lewd or forward, or, frankly, impersonal.

"We really need you to do us a favor. Carlos and his dog are waiting in the playground. Let's go there, let him fuck your tight little cunt and cum inside while we stream it all live. It'd really help out the team."

That got Peyton's head spinning. First, wondering whether the dog or Carlos was the one they were hoping would fuck her and cum inside. Each had their attractions and downsides at least in fantasy, not that the girl would admit to having fantasies like that... but somehow not being sure which was intended left her momentarily paralyzed to respond. What if she said "No way am I letting Carlos fuck me, I could get pregnant!" and they laughed because that implied she didn't have a problem fucking the dog, just Carlos? Or if she said, "Do you really expect me to be one of those girls that bends over and just lets a mutt hump me with his veiny dick?" and they meant Carlos but convinced themselves that she must have been fantasizing about bestiality in order to jump to that conclusion.

The moment of indecision was a fatal error, because in that moment Dave was able to take advantage of her stunned brain and direct her, with a firm hand on her back, to begin to take the side path towards the southwest playground, and her feet played along, taking steps in that direction, which seemed a lot like acceptance on her part. One of the other players also lifted the backpack she had slung off one shoulder, like he was being helpful, and because she instinctively shrugged it off as it was grabbed, it looked even more like she was voluntarily going along to the notorious playground to get publicly fucked by either a man or a dog.

The words finally did come, about a dozen steps along her new, alternative path, and she dug in her heels to stop her legs from taking the easy route that would lead to a hard outcome. "Whoa, there, you guys know me, you know I'm not one of those sluts who'd do something like that!" That, she figured covered both scenarios.

To their credit, the boys stopped pushing, although they did circle around her and Peyton couldn't help but think about how, if they just pushed down on her shoulders, she'd be on her knees and pretty much helpless if they got their cocks out and shoved them in her face and told her to suck, or do more than that. Other freshman girls had claimed to be forced by Predators, but until now she always assumed they were just lying for attention or to salvage their reputation... the guys on the team may have made offers before, but they always respected a no from Peyton, and the girls who claimed a forced attack were, after all, known for having easy-to-open legs. And they had enough girls who were willing that it was hard to imagine them resorting to forcing someone who wasn't. The football team might have been called the Predators, but she didn't think they actually were.

The two hands on her shoulders, from two different guys, made her start to rethink that. Sure, they remained light and with no pressure on her legs, but those legs were starting to get trembly without any help and she began to wonder what would happen if she fell to her knees on her own, would they just assume she was into it? Maybe that was how sluts got made, and head cheerleader dreams got dashed.

"We know you're not a slut," said Jamal, the dark hunk with his hand on her left shoulder. "But it would really help us out if you could become one. You gotta support the team."

"Yeah, be a team player," said the Hector, the guy on her right, the one who held her backpack. He was the youngest of the group, spikey black hair and a goatee that made his baby-face look a little less babyish, but he still had a boyish grin.

"You're a cheerleader, you got certain responsibilities." This was Sammy, behind her, also black, though a lighter shade than Jamal. He was pressing something hard that Peyton had to assume was a dick into her skirt and butt. She hoped it hadn't come out of his pants, like it sometimes did on the bus, because Mrs. Schumacher, the cheerleading coach was not kind to girls who got sexual fluids on the uniforms and that alone could ruin her head position dreams for a few months at least.

Dave, in front of her, took her chin in his hand and prevented her from looking back to see, then said in a cajoling voice, "It's just a dog cock." At least that answered that question. "It's nothing to be afraid of, it's totally safe. It can't get you pregnant or anything. And lots of girls love it, especially when the knot swells up."

"So find one of the girls that already loves it. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm still a virgin. Everywhere."

"So nobody's saying you gotta fuck us," Sammy said, pushing up against her adding weight to his words when he added, "I mean, we'd love to, but that's not the goal here. And everyone knows dogs don't count for virginity." Peyton's eyes widened, wondering if that was true. She'd certainly never heard that theory before, but then most of the girls who fucked dogs were already sluts, so it didn't really matter. She could see the argument, sort of, there was no chance for love or pregnancy so maybe dogs were just like a living sextoy. That opened up possibilities... not for doing it live on somebody's phone, of course, but maybe private experiments. She just needed to find a way to borrow a dog.

"Besides, it has to be you," Dave insisted, getting out of her way and sliding to her side, making Hector slide back beside Sammy. "Nobody else will do."

"Hey, you're a poet, and you don't know it!" Jamal said, and laughed.

Ignoring him, Dave went on, "Just come with us to the playground, hear us out."

"Oh, sure," Peyton said sarcastically, knowing of that playground's reputation. Even if the Predators normally played fair, they might make an exception in the southwest playground. "And once I get there you guys hold me down and force me to do what you want." Yet, even as she said this, she took steps forward, towards the playground where this anticipated dog rape might occur, instead of away. It was like she could feel the hopes of the group that she'd come along, so she did, at least for a few more steps. It must be that peer pressure she'd always been warned about but had never had trouble resisting before.

"Hey now," Jamal said, and when she looked up at him, suddenly the world turned upside down. Actually, she turned upside down. In one quick motion Dave had picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, legs dangling behind him. Jamal's hand clapped over her mouth before she could even think to scream. It was all done so smoothly, with perfect coordination on both of them, that it was like a well-rehearsed football play, and maybe it was, in addition to the hook/hitch, end-around, and off-tackles they went over thousands of times during practice, the football players also worked the "abduct and rape a cheerleader" play in their free time. Maybe Predators WASN'T just a name.

Well, this is it, she thought. I'm going to get taken to the park and forced to fuck a dog. Guess that's not my fault. I just hope it's as good as advertised.

Seconds later, she felt hands running up her dangling legs, pushing up the skirt part of her cheer uniform, and she began to think that maybe they wouldn't wait to get to the playground, they'd start the rape right here with a four-on-one gang-rape to prepare her holes. As a plan, she had to respect that, after all, she'd seen both Sammy's and Jamal's dicks on the bus, hard from a distance (and Jamal's close enough to smell freshman asshole on it on his way to the bus bathroom after he was no longer hard but still very intimidating). After those monsters forcibly stretched out her pussy lips she didn't think that she'd have much trouble with a dog cock. She yelled into Jamal's hand, because she knew it wouldn't make any difference, and they probably expected a little fight. They might respect her more after the rape for that.

The junior varsity cheer uniforms (at least, the ones worn in performance, and in training by the girls who weren't receiving punishment for having messed theirs up) had a skirt that was both longer and tighter than their varsity counterparts, for modesty's sake, and so it took some effort to push it up over her butt, but once the hands behind her did, modesty went out the window, and an electric shock seemed to go through her as a finger made contact with her slit... or, actually, with the blue cheerleading spanx just covering her pussy, but the difference didn't amount to much in feel, they were thin and it was a firm intrusion that made her muffled shouting turn into something more like a whiny moan.

As quickly as it started, it stopped, the finger disappeared, the hand came off her mouth (she didn't think to yell, and wasn't sure if she remained silent from surprise or disappointment), and then she was gently dropped back to her feet as though nothing had happened, although her uniform still was held up over her butt and required a bit of cautious smoothing to make herself modest again. "That was just to show you that we could easily rape you if that's what we were going to do," Dave said, in a half-crouch so he could look at her at eye level.

"And don't think we haven't thought about it," Sam pointed out.

"Sure," Dave agreed. "And if we were just thinking with our dicks here, we probably would, and send you home a cum-covered mess with gaping holes." Dave had a habit of putting images into Peyton's head that were both frightening and appealing, and the one of walking home bowlegged and naked, unable to hide the cum--or the places it had gone--from her parents locked itself in her head for later reconsideration. "But this isn't about us, we're here on a matter of school spirit, and you're an athlete just like us, so we're just going to ask you to come hear us out, and decide what you want to do from there." She took a moment to be impressed and appreciative that he respected cheerleaders enough to refer to them as athletes... some guys didn't. Dave must have thought she looked skeptical, though, because he added, "Promise. This just won't work if you're not willing, 100%. Ideally, we want to see your cunt visibly drooling before the dog cock penetrates it. We want... no, we need you to be a smiling, happy bitch while that mutt humps your brains out."

"Maybe say something," Sam suggested. "Like, 'I love being a doggy slut,' or maybe 'Fill me with your animal sperm.'"

"'I hope he fucks my ass next,'" Jamal suggested.

"Out of luck Jamal, Carlos told me his dog ain't gay!" Sam said, but it broke off into a laugh and everyone knew it was just a joke, though Jamal playfully punched Sam, and that broke some of the tension so even Peyton laughed.

"Ooh, ooh, I've got one!" Hector said, but before he could get it out, Dave waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't coach her guys, it should be whatever comes natural. If she decides to do it. Which she hasn't yet. And I wouldn't expect her to, until we've had a good chance to explain. She's a respectable girl after all." To Peyton, he said, softly, "So, what do you say, come to that playground with us, hear our pitch, maybe take a look at the dog cock, get over any fear you might have of it."

"I'm not afraid of dog cock," she said, then blushed bright red at how that sounded. "I just mean, it's disgusting but not scary. I mean, you've been asking very politely, so I'll come with you and let you try and explain why, but I'm telling you right now, I'm on track to be head cheerleader and the only way I'm letting a dog cock anywhere inside me is if you force me." Or if you somehow come up with a really, really good reason, she added mentally. She didn't say it out loud because she didn't want them to think she was an easy sell, they had to think she would only settle for the absolute best reason they had. Right at that moment, she couldn't even imagine what a good reason for a virgin girl to risk the reputation damage that would certainly come if she let a dog cum inside her on video, but there had to be one, otherwise they were just wasting everyone's time. It also occurred to her, belatedly, that just walking cheerfully to that playground with four guys could hurt her reputation almost as bad as actually doing something, which could only work in their favor, since without her reputation she didn't think she had any reason not to devote herself to the mindless pleasures of sex as she observed so many other girls doing. If everyone thought she was a hedonistic slut, why not get the benefits, after all, and that rumor might get started just by their destination.

The southwest playground was at least officially for kids, but as long as Peyton had lived it wasn't used by them, aside from the occasional daring and unsupervised kids who went without permission, or carefully orchestrated trips with parents, and either might or might not end with a ruined childhood depending on how lucky you were.

The problem was twofold, the second a consequence of the first. The playground was situated in a corner of the park dense with trees. It wasn't a forest by any means, but the trees that were there were large and thick with branches and perfectly positioned such that it was difficult to see anything going on inside the playground from the outside, while the reverse was easy. If you were doing something you shouldn't and you didn't want to be caught, you could post a lookout who'd see someone coming from a mile away, but if you were going there, you had to walk up the winding path to see if the swings and slide and plastic fort was bustling with kids, or if it was being used by teens as a spot to drink, do drugs, make out or fuck, or even if it was empty except for maybe a rapist lurking there waiting for a lonely victim. Even from the nearby apartments, the leaves made it impossible to see trouble either lurking or actually going on, and by-laws prevented anybody from cutting them down. All of that meant that few parents were willing to let their kids play there, especially when there was another, smaller but much more visible playground at the northeast corner of the park, which meant that the southwest corner, when it wasn't completely empty, was much more often being used as a fuck-spot and rapist perch. The fact that it was being avoided made it even more secluded and good for bad intentions, a vicious cycle that would certainly get tongues wagging about her being seen walking there. Maybe it would have been better to have been carried over the shoulder after all.

It wasn't unheard of to go there for innocent reasons, of course... it was just rare and risky. Peyton could count on one hand the number of times she'd been there... maybe three hands if you counted the occasional quick drive-by using the paths through it as a mildly-thrilling shortcut on a bike ride through the park. But only counting deliberate trips to the playground area, she remembered five. Twice were on group dares of one sort or another while Peyton and her friends were tweens, and both of those were busts, nothing unusual happening at all except a teen couple who quickly zipped up and moved away when they spotted kids approaching, and the other time the place was completely empty. They played on the swings just to say they had and weren't scared, and then went somewhere else because they really were scared somebody bad might show up. The danger was real... every so often a girl or woman would be found tied to something there after a night of rape, and those stories got around.

The other three times Peyton visited the park were years before that, before she even knew the place really was dangerous and that wasn't just another of the thousand things parents worried over. Those three times happened when Peyton was eight or nine, she'd gone under the supervision of her mother, who let Peyton play with her little sister for an hour while Mom cheated on her husband with whoever she found. It was only the second time that she started to figure out that was what was happening, when she left her little sister on the swing and circled around the playground equipment to the bench her mother waited at, only to find her still waiting there... face down on the bench, skirt up, legs dangling over the edge, body slamming into and being slammed into from behind by some man in a way that resembled the movies Daddy sometimes left open on his tablet. The guy, who she'd never seen before, smiled when he saw little Peyton, pulled back and revealed a glistening penis. He stroked up and down the length a few times, like he was displaying it just for her to see, then aimed it at back at her mother's rear and slammed it while Peyton watched. The memory of her mom biting her lip and moaning was particularly vivid, as the little girl got a good look with a mother who didn't open her eyes. She got a good enough look to see that it was definitely sex, but she didn't say anything because she didn't know if it was cheating or rape, and Mom hadn't seen her so she didn't say anything.

The next time at the park, their last time, it was two different men and Mom seemed like she didn't even try to hide it, the only way she kept her little sister from seeing her naked Mom sucking off a black guy while getting fucked by a white guy was by making sure they stayed on the see-saw with Hannah facing away, but Peyton saw, every time the seesaw went up, she saw her mom acting like a whore, or porn star, with a guy that wasn't Dad, and stayed watching even when her sister whined about being sick of the see-saw and wanting to go on the monkey-bars. But those would have given a clear view of what was going on, so she forced her sister to stay and every time she went up, one of the men, or Mom herself, began to wave at her. Even at that young age she was smart enough to realize that you don't wave while getting raped, and that probably meant that cheating's what Mom was doing the first time, too. That first visit to the park, Peyton didn't see any actual sex, she just noticed her mom was out of sight, called her name, and a few seconds later, just Mom's face peeked out from behind a tree, red and seemingly out of breath. She didn't think anything of it at the time, nor when it was finally time to go home, and Mom introduced them to the man, her new friend, who was also behind the tree with his dog, but now it made sense, and just like two plus two made four, one and one and one probably made three, even if you couldn't be sure of one of the ones. And three times makes a pattern and that pattern added up to her mom being a slut who was getting more and more bold. Peyton didn't want any part of that, so from then on she refused to go to that playground with her mom, or anyone else except when dared or just passing through.

Later, of course, she came to forgive her mother, realize that if she needed to cheat so bad that she'd risk her daughters safety taking them to a dangerous part of the park to do it then obviously it was something like a medical need, but back then she didn't know why the park was off-limits, how dangerous it was... she just thought her mother was a cheating whore and refused to give her an excuse to sneak out, or let her sister find out like she did.

Today, though, if Peyton's mom was to stop by the park, she'd probably think her dreams had come true and she was going to get in an ultimate gangbang or something, because it seemed like half the football team was there, enough that she could see a few of them from outside, just standing guard, keeping anyone who wasn't supposed to be at the southwest playground from coming in, and once she got past the guards, because she apparently was supposed to be there, she saw that there were even more Predators inside.

If it was an ultimate gangbang, it wasn't for Peyton, and it didn't seem to be for Peyton's mom either, who was nowhere in sight. But there were other women, a few, mostly teens but a few notably younger or older, all of them way outnumbered by the football team but definitely getting their attention with some kind of sexual display or act or another, from the sophomore girl masturbating at the top of the slide to the skirt-wearing pigtailed preteen riding on the lap of Brock Wilson who had his pants around his ankle while both of them rode the swing, face to face.

And there, standing in the sandpit, was Carlos, beside his dog, held on a leash as the park by-laws demanded (bestiality was not in those by-laws at all, but that was an oversight). He gave Peyton a big wave. Carlos, that is, his dog just looked up and wagged his tail like any other friendly dog seeing somebody new, as though he didn't realize they were trying to talk this one into being his human bitch.

They didn't go right for the dog, though, like she expected. Instead, Dave led her to the skeletal frame of a geodesic dome off to the side, and motioned for her to sit on one of the triangles, and he took the one next to her. He was large enough that he wasn't in danger of falling back into the dome, but she was, and had to brace herself. The other guys who walked with her there stood around nearby.

"You don't mind if I masturbate while I talk, do you?" Her eyes widened at the weird combination of boldness and respect. What a question to ask a girl you were trying to get to do something perverted for you. "Not for you, mind you." Peyton deflated, and followed his gaze towards the big-breasted woman riding a black receiver, her tits bouncing up and down and her face in an expression of ecstasy, then back to Dave. "It's just you gotta admit it's hot watching a married churchgoing soccer mom slut taking it raw from her son's former bullies..."

"Oh, is that Tim Pokorny's mom?" She craned her neck to look back in that direction again, but the woman's face was now obscured as another Predator had stepped over her and shoved his dick in her face, all she could see was his butt-cheeks clenching and his balls. It was a nice butt though. Nice balls, too.

"You've heard, then?"

"Just the rumor. That you used to beat him up and you made him ask his mom to be a team slut to get it to stop."

"No rumor, but don't feel bad for Tim, he had it coming, he used to use the n-word, and we don't support racists at our school. Luckily, his mom ain't racist at all, we have parties at her place when the old man isn't home, and every school day she gives a couple guys from the football team a ride home afterwards, doesn't care about color at all, and Tim's either gotta sit in the front seat while his mom makes a stop and spends an hour or so in the back promoting racial harmony, or walk home, which takes about an hour anyway."

"What does he choose?"

"He usually watches, even wipes her clean afterwards. Doesn't say shit about it anymore, which is good, cause if he got on his mom's case after all this, we might have gone through with Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"That's the idea we had where, after we got her hooked on young multiracial cocks, we told his mom that nobody on the team was going to fuck her anymore unless she asks us to start beating up her son again. But we're cool with Tim now... he's stopped using the n-word, except when a black guy tells him to...some of the guys get a kick out of making him ask his mom to ride that n-word cock, you know? And most importantly, he's never getting in the way of that pussy. So since he's being a good son, we decided against Plan B."

Peyton's mouth opened in a wide oval as she heard what Plan B was, and stayed that way while she watched Mrs. Pokorny's mouth doing the same around a cock now that the bodies had repositioned. When Peyton finally closed hers, she wondered aloud, "Do you really think she'd do that? Ask you to beat him up? She's his mother." It was wicked but somehow hot, too.

"Yeah, but if the choice is she asks us and we do it and keep fucking her, or she doesn't ask us and we stop fucking her and start beating him up anyway... easy decision to make, right?" That made a certain amount of sense to Peyton, but only if she really liked being treated like a piece of fuckmeat. As if reading her mind, he said, "Believe me, she loves what her life's turned into. She's fucked Carlos' dog too, by the way, and it was her idea."

"So why don't you get her to do it now for whatever you need to do? Why do you need me for?"

"For a number of reasons. I'll get to that. Besides, dog cum's acidic and a natural contraceptive, and we're breeding Janice--Mrs. Pokorny--today, so no dog cum for her until she passes a pregnancy test."

"You're actually trying to get her pregnant?" She'd thought he was just turned on by the risk, like they said in health class, contraceptives were never 100%... though she filed away the information about dog cum which they never brought up. She didn't plan to be a virgin forever, after all, just to college at least. "Isn't that a little extreme? What if the baby's not white? Won't her husband like, go insane?"

"That's kinda the point... payback. We might be cool with Tim, but Mr. Pokorny's the one who taught him and we finally convinced Janice to stop her pills a few weeks ago and humiliate him with a biracial baby. Obviously that leaves me out... well, actually, I can't join in because my job's getting you on board for the livestreamed dog fuck... but it's still a pretty hot thought, and impregnation's one of my big kinks, so I would like to get a stroke going and maybe take some of the pressure off with a good cum..." She'd forgotten this conversation started with him asking her permission to masturbate. "But only if you don't mind. I wouldn't want to offend you and screw up my chances here by just whipping out my cock and going at it without asking, it'd be disrespectful."

It was strange, him being so polite while asking such lewd things, it made her want to agree to almost anything just because he was being so reasonable... and this, well, there were other reasons too. She'd seen cocks before, usually from a short distance, but never his cock, and he was a captain of the team with a great reputation. If he'd asked her if she wanted to see his cock she'd have to say no, but since he just asked if she minded, she could be cool about it and let him do what he needed. "No, be my guest, just make sure you don't get any on me." Something made her add, "Or at least my uniform."

He grinned, leaned back, and unzipped. "Don't worry, I'll be careful, I know how your coach gets."

Peyton watched as he pulled his meat out, looking as it did like some kind of floppy sausage with balls attached, then whipped it casually back and forth, and with each flick, it seemed to get less floppy and bigger. It must have been at least nine inches, and a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, with a head that glistened like it was covered with some kind of delicious icing glaze. The sight was now more fascinating than Tim's mom possibly getting pregnant, and part of her wished she could pull her skirt up and her spanx aside and start masturbating too. Bad idea, she knew, both because it would tarnish her reputation and make her more likely to agree to this insane proposition. Instead, she kept up her side of the conversation to still seem cool, though her eyes were now locked on the rod and the fist slowly pumping it up and down, although she did spare a glance at the other guys to see if they were doing likewise. They weren't, so she said, "Then you should know why I can't do what you ask. Mrs. Schumacher goes crazy when you even get the uniform dirty, if I bring shame upon the cheer team by having sex with a dog on camera, I'll never get to be head cheerleader... hell, I'd probably never get to wear the regular uniform again."

"You'd be surprised. Your coach is cooler than you think, you just have to know how to handle her." Peyton had a hard time believing that. Woe be to anyone who said it in earshot, but all the girls agreed privately... Schumacher was a nazi with the uniform inspections. She regularly checked over every inch for stains that might be sexual or even just food-related but hard to remove. Even the spanx, if there was a suspicious wet spot she'd do what she called the 'nose test' to smell if it was just natural vaginal fluids or cum, getting a deep whiff from a long nose that pressed more firmly into the thin fabric than some of the inexperienced masturbators had gone, so deep that it pried labia beneath it apart. When she wasn't sure enough, she sometimes took a few licks as well.

And if you failed, had messed up your uniform or were judged to have harmed the reputation of the junior varsity cheer team, you had to remove the whole uniform right there in front of everyone, because you were temporarily but immediately off the team, at least the regular team who got to perform at games, and banished to second string practices. There, you could eventually earn your place back on the main squad with good behavior, but had to do it in the skimpy backup uniform, the all white ones which were so cheap that they tended to become see-through with sweat and had skirts that were short enough that you were often flashing camel toe, sometimes transparent camel-toe after a long practice. Those practices were often held in odd hours or locations, too, like sharing a gym with middle schoolers in detention, a bunch of rowdy mostly boys cheering whenever anyone bent down, or just as the adult English language night classes were letting out, drawing a crowd and a lot of lewd comments in a variety of languages.

Her former best friend Laney got exiled there a month ago after the Coach gave her a nose test and after a few licks of confirmation revealed to the rest of the squad that Laney came to practice dripping semen. At the time, through tears of humiliation as she stripped naked in front of everybody to hand over the uniform she'd been banished from, Laney swore she hadn't done anything with any guy.... Peyton hadn't believed her--the coach had pointed out and demonstrated the lack of a hymen to the whole squad, after all--and their friendship hadn't been the same since... nor had Laney who had worn the uniform to school and didn't have a backup outfit, left to either call home and explain why she needed a ride or find her own way wearing only bra and panties and choosing the latter. Peyton wanted more than anything to avoid that fate, which is why she kept her virginities safe and always brought a change of clothes with her. Dave offered an intriguing other option. "We'll teach you, if you play bitch for us, and believe me, you'll never have to leave the first string team, hell, you might make head cheerleader even if your cheer uniform is always so covered in cum it glistens because you just took a pre-game bukkake from all the Predators."

"Which would be a great way raise team spirit by the way," Jamal added. "I mean, your cheers are nice, but that would motivate me more."

Peyton smirked. "I hope that wasn't your pitch, because..." She didn't finish, but the truth was, mostly because she didn't believe it. Mrs. Schumacher was too much of a hardass to be won over by any simple trick. She never played favorites as far as Peyton could tell, though sometimes she did the opposite, take a dislike to one girl or another and hound them until finally she found something wrong to punish them for. But she kept reminding even the current head cheerleader Cindy that she could be replaced at any moment. If there was a trick that would let Peyton claim that spot no matter what she did, then Cindy would be the one who'd already used it, and wouldn't be so worried about failing inspection that she wouldn't even be alone with her boyfriend within three days of a performance.

"No, you're a good girl, I don't think you'd fuck a dog just because you thought you'd get something out of it. I think you're going to fuck a dog because the school needs you to fuck a dog. Well, the athletics department needs you to, but that's the heart of the school."

"I thought we were the libido of the school," Sammy joked.

"The libido's not a body part," Jamal said. "We'd have to be, like, the balls of the school."

"The school's not a dude. I came inside too many times for the school to be a dude."

Jamal considered. "So the pussy of the school then?"

"That's Tim."

Jamal and Sammy both laughed at Hector's joke, and even Peyton joined in, but Dave seemed annoyed. "Guys!" he said. "Would you go join in on Mrs. Pokorny or something and give us a second? I've got a lot riding on this, and I don't need you guys screwing it up. If I fuck it up, you'll get your chance to convince her."

"Sorry..."

As they wandered off, Peyton heard them talking about who the 'taint' of the school was, and when she couldn't hear the options they decided, she looked back up to Dave, or at least his cock, which he'd gone back to lightly stroking. It didn't seem like he was trying very hard to cum, just keeping it hard, and maybe just using the whole thing as an excuse to let her look, as though that sight itself might help convince her. She had to admit, it was hard to look away.

"Sorry, where are my manners?" Dave said, suddenly seeming to notice Peyton's gaze. "If you want to masturbate too, you're more than welcome."

Peyton blushed and directed her gaze down to the ground. "Ummm, no thank you."

"You sure? It might help. I promise I won't look, at least if you don't want me to. Some girls are shy about rubbing their cunts."

"You're not," she said, and looked back up at him.

"Shy about rubbing cunts? Hell no. I'll rub yours if you want..." As she opened her mouth to answer, he said, "I know what you meant. But if you ask me, there's no sense of being shy. You start worrying too much about how you look, you're never going to go for it, on the field, or in life. I'm sure the same applies to cheer. The skirts you guys wear might not be too short, at least on the performing team, but if you move on to varsity cheerleading you're going to have to make jumps without worrying about the crowd looking up your skirt, hoping for a camel toe, right? That's what most of them are there for, and the best cheerleaders are the ones who lose their shame about it quick and play to the crowd or even arrange for their spanx to 'accidentally' slip over a lip or something. Now, it might seem like a big a jump to fucking a dog in front of a crowd, but once you make that jump, you'll be the boldest cheerleader. And the further you go in cheerleading the more you'll find being sexually open-minded is a benefit, not a downside. That's not my pitch either, by the way, that's just a side benefit. The cunt-rubbing offer is open, though."

All through Dave's rambling speech, Peyton eyes were on the steady rhythmic pumping of his hand on cock, almost hypnotic in its power, especially once beads of wetness started dripping out of the head, but he didn't seem to be cumming. She suddenly worried about what people would think if she was staring too hard at the cock for too long, and then another part of her pointed out that she was proving his point about being too concerned about what people thought, that maybe she should fuck a dog and get over that worry. The responsible, respectable part of her was still stronger, the part that knew that would not help her reach her dreams, but rather the opposite. So, she forced her eyes upwards, to Dave's face, and asked the first thing that came to mind, something he'd said when telling off his friends, something that stuck with her. "What do you mean you've got a lot riding on this?"

"Well, as I said, the team needs..."

"No, but you said they could try to convince me if you fail, so it must be something else." She suddenly got it. "You made a bet on this. You bet on whether you could convince me to do this." Predators were always making bets, often about whether they could deflower some virgin. This was merely a new wrinkle.

Dave grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, sort of. See, when we discussed this in the locker room, we were split on how to approach it... you know, there's a lot of ways to get a girl to fuck a dog, including outright forcing her. With you, nobody wanted to do that... okay, that's a lie, a few wanted to, but it wasn't ideal for our ultimate goals. But there's dirty tricks, blackmail, bribery, reverse psychology, or a long seduction nudging you into dirtier and dirtier things a step at a time while you have no idea what we're really after. And I may be the captain of the team, but that's just for the game, off the field, we try and decide our major issues as a group. But still, I kind of stepped up and said that I could talk you into it, straight up, no tricks. I had it all worked out in my head when I said it... I mean, I'm probably totally screwing it up now..."

"No, you're doing fine..." she said, and then hurriedly added, "I mean, I'm here listening at least, right?"

"Yup, and that's something all right. Lot of the guys didn't think you'd even hear us out."

"So what do you get if you win?"

"I probably really am going to fuck up my chances up by telling you, but... well, you know how the football team works, right, with girlfriends?"

"'It's not cheating if it's with a Predator,'" she repeated the rumors she'd heard from other girls who were more promiscuous, some who had 'boyfriends' on the team. Supposedly it had been the rule forever, since before the team had changed its name from the Eagles years ago, after learning that Eagles were the most common high school team name in America. Back in the day, they had to be called the Screaming Eagles just to distinguish them from another school's Eagles that they played against regularly, got sick of the confusion and jokes from the other team about screaming like girls when they get spanked, and voted on a new team name, with Predators winning the vote by a significant margin, but the name change didn't change much about how they conducted themselves on or off the field.

The way it worked off the field was, in addition to a boyfriend who was practically school royalty, a girl dating a Predator got a limited right to sample other cocks without consequences, or mostly without consequences, since Predators preferred it raw and pregnancy was usually on the table if a girl wasn't taking responsibility on her own. They'd supposedly respect her wishes about fooling around, but not her boyfriend's, and even if she'd given a polite no a few times they'd still never cease in their attempts at a hard seduction either for individual acts of infidelity or by promoting all the benefits of becoming sort of a whole-team girlfriend, emotionally loyal to one but sexually serving the whole team equally, what they used to call a "Screaming Eagle Bitch" before the name change, now sometimes "Double-P Girl," with the double P's standing for "Premium Prey" or "Predator Pussy" or a dozen other things depending on who you asked. One Double-P Girl Peyton talked to on the bus to a game insisted it stood for "Phil Phantom," the girls named after a beloved but now deceased player from the Screaming Eagle Days who started the tradition, who she swore was also her illegitimate grandfather.

Not every girlfriend became a full Double-P Girl, but the potential held for all of them, and most played around with a few guys on the team other than their official boyfriends... because that was the real rule, that if a Predator's girlfriend fucked around, as long as it was within the team, her boyfriend wasn't allowed to get mad... of course, boyfriends sometimes did, but everyone had to pretend they didn't, or risk being ostracized from the team. If the guy gave either his girlfriend or whichever Predator fucked her shit over it, he'd find himself not invited to team events, or his girl quickly dating another team member and every Double-P Girl now willing to fuck every Predator but the whiny bitch. Being a team-player was the rule. If a Predator walked in on his girl riding their best friend's cock, he was expected to high five, kiss the girl on the cheek hello, offer them a drink, join in on a free hole, or generally act like it wasn't an act of cheating but, at worst, an inconvenience or a 'gotcha.' A guy's buddies showing up when he's trying to make a good impression on his date's family, two or three other Predators asking to talk to the girl for "just a minute" and leaving him alone with her parents while they have loud sex behind at most one closed door, that was a good 'gotcha.' So was knocking up a buddy's previously loyal girlfriend with a baby that looked nothing like him because they tricked her into riding on the team bus he wasn't on and then talked her into becoming a full-fledged Double-P Girl with a gangbang all the way home. All in fun when it was all in the team.

It went beyond the team, too, at least sort of. The Predators didn't respect anyone's girlfriends, really... they'd try to fuck whoever they found hot, and so plenty of girls who were dating guys in the chess club or band or just ordinary students developed the attitude of "it's not cheating with a Predator" and would fuck around, quietly or openly, without shame, or cover for each other, as long as it was with a member of the football team. Having your brainy girlfriend tutor a football player was a nightmare scenario for anyone not on the team because you always had to wonder if he was getting head as well as her brain. Then you were faced with a choice, act trusting, turn a blind eye to any late nights, mussed hair or suspicious stains, which might truly be innocent at first, and make her think it was okay if they weren't, or dump her on a suspicion, or make a jealous scene and risk getting dumped yourself and watch her try to become a Double-P Girl out of spite.

The Predators didn't care about any of this interpersonal drama themselves... whether these boyfriends got mad and dumped their girl, or if she made a promise to be loyal and true (regardless of if she'd been that way so far), Predators barely noticed, since if you were a guy and weren't a jock of some sort, you were barely on the radar. As long as he didn't do something stupid like attack the guy the girl spread her legs or ass or mouth for, Predators would just ignore his feelings and keep fucking his girl whenever the urge struck, or trying given the opportunity, and let the couple sort out their business between themselves. "You don't support the school, who gives a fuck about you," was the attitude, and supporting the school included being cool about lending your girlfriend to the team. Marching band guys got a little more consideration, because they at least played at the games. Their girlfriends weren't off-limits, but many of the guys on the team wouldn't pursue unless she was super hot... otherwise, they'd only do it if the girls offered themselves. Plenty did, from what Peyton heard.

But she didn't quite see how any of that applied to this situation though. It wasn't as though they could bet their girlfriends over it.

Dave explained, "See, I talk you into this and I get... well, we call it ball control, or a marker. It's basically the right to declare one girl protected from and by, the team. They won't do anything to her without my okay, and they'll watch out if somebody else does. She can't be turned into a Double-P Girl. They'll respect my wishes, for one girl. It's a rare and valuable privilege. Only other one on the team right now is Brock, over there uses it on his little sister, who's been trying to be a Double-P Girl since she was nine and found out what it was. And you wouldn't believe what he had to do to get it."

"And if you win," Peyton asked, her heart skipping a beat, because he said that it might fuck up his chances by telling her, which meant it had to involve her somehow, didn't it? "Do you have a sister?"

"Yeah, but she's older and there's not much worth protecting, she's had more Predator cocks inside her than I've seen in the showers. No, me, I've got my eye on a little blonde girl that I want to be sure that I've got the only chance to knock up." He grinned sheepishly and tugged on his hard dick. "Hey, I did say impregnation was a kink of mine."

"A little blonde girl like me?" she squeaked.

"A little blonde girl very much like you. If she'll have me."

Peyton swallowed a hard lump in her throat, then asked, "What if she doesn't want to get pregnant because she's too young for that?"

"I'm willing to wait, so long as I know the babies're going to be mine. My grandpa wants to make sure the family line and family money continues with the family name and I can't bear to lie to him and tell him I'm sure a baby's mine when I'm not. And I'm certainly not going to marry a girl who might pop out a baby who's the wrong color. I really need this exemption, Peyton, and I'm sure I could make it worth your while too."

It already was very appealing... it was like all the benefits of dating a guy on the football team without any of the downsides... the disposable nature of the girls, the widespread expectation that you're a slut. Hell, even her father might approve. He sometimes joked that she wasn't allowed to date, unless it was the next Peyton Manning (who she was named after) or Tom Brady, though she didn't know exactly how serious he was about those exceptions. She'd also overheard him telling a friend that if he caught the actual Peyton Manning with his cock buried in his daughter's ass he'd first ask for his autograph and then ask if he wouldn't mind pulling out and squirting it where it might produce a NFL hall-of-fame grandson, but then when he saw she was in the room he immediately stressed that he was "just kidding," and maybe it was the same with the joke about her dating rules.

Still, he loved football and held up the players as the ultimate examples in American manliness... well, at least the white ones. The black ones he accused of being overly political Black Lives Matters supporters... Peyton long knew that Daddy was a little bit racist too. But that wasn't a problem with Dave, he was white. And if Peyton presented a handsome, built young white man, a great football player, who seemed ready to one day marry her, and with money to boot, she had to imagine Daddy'd let them date. Sure it would be illegal because of the difference in their ages, but she thought he'd look the other way. He might even look the other way to sex in the house.

All she might have to do to get a perfect boyfriend is fuck a dog in front of everyone. An idea which just became a little more appealing.

But it would still fuck up her other dream of being head cheerleader. She couldn't say yes to that. Yet, anyway. What she could say was, "I don't think you messed up your chances to convince me. But I still don't think I can do what you want. And I still don't know how any of this is supposed to help the team."

"Let me lay it out for you. The Predators... we don't have the best offence. We're good, but not the best. Same with defense. Not the best kickers, either. I like to think our school has the best cheerleaders, but that might be my school spirit talking, since I know you haven't won any championships recently..."

It was the first thing he said this whole time that soured his chances at her fucking a dog for him. "Came closer than you," she snapped. Cheerleaders were never given the respect they deserved for their athletic talents.

His reaction smoothed things over, a little. "True enough, true enough. I just mean, the one thing that puts us head and shoulders above other teams is our morale. Our morale's the best in the state, maybe best in the country, especially lately. And because of that we're attracting better talent from nearby schools. The best players all wish they could go here, and some of them are finding ways to do it, because they want the life of a Predator. Take the team busses, for example. Envy of every other high schooler. And of course, cheerleaders benefit too."

The team drove to their away games, and special teambuilding trips, on two impressive deluxe luxury buses, with comfortable seats, tinted windows, lots of legroom, air-conditioning, WiFi, a movie projection system, and a bathroom. Between the two of them, there were more than enough seats for the team, so often guests or cheerleaders got to ride along, although they made sure to split each bus so half the team was on it. If the football team wasn't using it and other teams needed transportation for a solo gig it was usually granted, and sometimes other school groups were allowed to borrow one, but it was at the discretion of the team. Rumor had it the Forensic team got to use it once but only because the faculty adviser volunteered the girls to practice their oral arguments on the Predators and those arguments were very persuasive despite their mouths being full at the time.

Peyton wasn't sure if Dave meant other students were envious of the buses themselves, which certainly were impressive, or the other thing that set the bus apart from everyone else, the anything goes attitude that went on aboard. Each bus had a personal driver who officially functioned as chaperone, but the last time Peyton ever saw one of them lift a finger was when a girl in a front seat was giving a blowjob to one of the players, balked at the last second and caused a cum-splash on the windshield, which made the driver pull over and demand that if she's going to do that to swallow the load.

Peyton got most of her sex education on that bus in the months since her freshman year started, watching Predator girlfriends not-cheat or other guests, friends, and sometimes even teachers getting slutty and smutty and sticky. It was easy to go wild if you saw everyone else doing it and no one getting in trouble because nobody wanted to be the uncool person who told their parents that their English teacher ate out the sperm-filled pussy of a freshman cheerleader-wannabe, who was now never-gonna-be, but would probably wind up pregnant unless that tongue was really thorough. Or be the one who tattled on an unapproved detour to let everyone get milkshakes and burgers while they watched a girl who got teased with denied orgasms until she was willing to agree to take a dog cock in her ass.

The education that they got when they got to borrow the bus for cheerleader-only events was of a different kind, milder, like a fun mobile slumber party where the only adult supervision were just happy to watch and sometimes participate in the games of truth-or-dare. Those rides had girls swapping stories, walking around naked or nearly naked, sharing masturbation tips, demonstrating said tips on each other, but rarely getting anywhere more raunchy than a blowjob, which was almost always on the driver and after a lot of begging, since he had a strict schedule to keep and was usually the only cock on board. This was because none of the male cheerleaders were allowed on to ride along on such trips after an incident trying to replicate the famous Mentos and Coke experiment the very first time they were invited to use the then-new team bus. Which was proof that bus rides were not QUITE anything goes, and the extreme reaction to that slowed their realization of the blind eye approach to everything else, but since then the girls were still welcome to borrow it, but male cheerleaders had to ride with their parents, like some girls did by choice, or in a minivan driven by Coach Schumacher, which nobody wanted to.

But for all that the rides they shared with the Predators were raunchier, more girls participated when they were on their own, so it felt more daring to Peyton at least, who had dutifully avoided all invitations from the football players but considered anything with the cheer team just 'playing around.' A long tongue kiss with a squad mate, who didn't take that dare once or twice, or get a few useful masturbation tips demonstrated on each other sitting side by side? Only a few girls played with the driver, and only one took that unscheduled stop off at the glory hole on the way home from their regional championship. That was only because Darcy bet they'd win and backed it up by saying if they didn't, she'd spend twenty minutes at a glory hole sucking off anyone there. She was hoping her confidence in making that risky bet would motivate the team and it did... but another squad just had better moves and took the championship. Despite the disappointment at coming so close, they all watched her pay up without complaint, at least not until the aftermath... even though the girls all kept their vow not to tell anyone, Darcy was put on the probationary squad nonetheless because of a semen stain nobody noticed except their vigilant coach. Rumor had it one of the guys who anonymously shoved his cock in her mouth was also one of the adult night students and later recognized her at probationary practice from when he peeked through the hole before sticking his cock in. Rumor also had it that after seeing her, again, he offered her a ride home, and they now were dating, or at least fucking.

"Yes, we're all pretty fond of the team busses," Peyton agreed. "I still don't see how this relates to me, a dog, and an act I'm pretty sure is considered a sin." The preacher at their church seemed to bring it up an awful lot, along with other stuff teens got into. Video games, modern music, premarital sex and bestiality, two things Peyton knew were a lot of harmless fun, and two that others seemed to enjoy an awful lot. That made it hard to take the preacher seriously on the sin part, but it was still dirty and would ruin her rep and her dreams.

"You think those we got those buses for free? No, Peyton, the buses, the gas, the private drivers, all that shit's expensive. But we're happy to spend the money for team morale, which means school morale. But the budget has to come from somewhere, and it sure as hell doesn't come from the annual bake sale."

"I thought a lot of it was from alumni donations and parents."

"Officially, and some of them do donate an awful lot, but they do it because they know the team has the best chance of delivering the stuff they really want. Truth is, most of them don't give a fuck about sports. We do... we want to have the best team, the best school, and so we do what we need to do to get the donations to get the best equipment and recruit the best talent. And you know what people pay top dollar to get? Their dream porn scenes. Predators all gotta support their team, and the Predators' secret side business is smut. We make it, sell it, arrange it, often star in it... not gay porn, mostly, though there are a couple guys who have dabbled, but it's mostly girls who are in demand. But we only make so much off us and our girlfriends, even when we get our girls to do stuff on the side. To keep the school athletics department living in the style we're used to, we need more girls doing more stuff to make money. We need you, Peyton, or team morale's going to plummet, and without our top-rank morale, we'll fall apart."

"Oh, I see. You want me to fuck a dog and sell the video." It was an exciting thought, but... no way, no how, her momma didn't raise no fools... Peyton wasn't letting a video circulate that was going to come back to haunt her. "Well like I said, you'll have to find some other girl. If it's got to be someone who hasn't done it before..." and she could see how that might be more valuable, "I can maybe tell you some names of girls who said they were curious, but it isn't going to be me. Maybe I'd do it in private..." Oops, that was probably a wrong thing to admit, but since she had, she might as well look like it was intentional, "if it would win you your bet. I'd at least think about that, but the video is a deal-breaker."

"But it has to be you, and it has to be live streamed."

"What, you have some sort of special order for porn of me or something?"

"Of course we do. Does that surprise you? But really, that's not what this is about. Frankly, I don't think there's a girl in our school we don't have special orders for. Even the girls I personally think are unattractive, someone's willing to pay us to see them getting fucked by a guy, or a gang of guys, or a dog, or themselves..."

"Themselves?" That didn't make sense, until Peyton tossed it over a few times in her head. If the Predators made that happen... "Wouldn't that be prostitution?"

"Prostitution's just a fancy word for a live porn shoot. But sure, call 'em whores if you want, some of our buyers want whores, and we try our best to make it happen. A special order's a special order, and as long as they're willing to pay, we try to serve up a good product. Every girl is somebody's type, you know, even Tandy with her muscular disorder and her wheelchair. Sometimes its parents or uncles or siblings who want to see a family member take a cock up their ass, get pissed on, otherwise degraded... surprisingly common." Peyton found that hard to believe, but then a fantasy of taking out a special order on her little sister Hannah came unbidden to her mind, and she decided it wasn't so hard to believe after all. She wondered how many people she trusted wanted to watch her get fucked. "So yeah, there are plenty of special orders out for you. Not the absolute most, but certainly far more than Tandy... though she gets more than I'd have guessed since her face looks all weird. Maybe that's prejudiced of me to say. She does give a great sloppy blowjob."

"So, what makes me so special? Am I last on your list or something?" If even Tandy was doing it...

"No, you're not the only virgin in school. Most girls we get special orders for, we accept they're never gonna happen. Don't ask me why, but some girls just aren't wired that way, and plenty are just too scared of a bad reputation, and rape's just too risky mostly. You never know when a girl will run to some cop who isn't rooting for the team, so we only do those if the price is really high. We do more far more fake rapes than real rapes. If you're interested in being fake-raped on video, by the way, we do have a few orders you can help us fill... but we can talk about that after you fuck a dog. But most of our special orders we never get a chance to fill, and that's why we need your help. The truth is, we're barely breaking even these days with the team expenses, and we've got big plans that we need big bucks for, and you're the key to getting them. You getting fucked by a dog, in particular."

"I still can't figure out why. What, is someone offering big bucks for that scene? More than anyone else?" That was pretty flattering, if she were to be honest.

"There are people offering a good price to see you fucked by a dog, though not more than anyone else. I wouldn't even say big bucks, at least not nearly big enough to get us out of our problem. It's nothing to turn our nose up at, but it's really not about the people paying us directly for a dog sex video with you... I mean, we'll sell them all a video if you're okay with it but if it takes promising we won't sell the video to get that dog's cock inside of you, we'll do it."

This was getting interesting, as she couldn't think of any reason to make that offer. "So why does it have to be me?"

Dave made a face, and then looked at her with earnest hopeful eyes. "Can't you just trust me and fuck Carlos' dog on a livestream, no questions asked, to help out the team?"

"I'd like to..." Trust him, she meant, and blushed as she realized it probably sounded like she wanted to fuck that dog. "But I have to know, what's this about?"

He sighed, let go of his cock, which he had been casually stroking through the conversation, and let it dangle. "Fine. I might be screwing this up by telling you this, but... it's not really about you at all."

That was disappointing. "Then what's it about?"

"The example you set. See, dog fuck videos really are our best money, outside of maybe virgins. Highly requested, and we can resell them overseas like you wouldn't believe. Or at least we could if we had many of them. Nobody wants to do 'em. Well, not nobody. I'm sure you know a handful of girls at our school that have fucked dogs. And you know they never live it down. You girls can be merciless. Slut-shaming is 90% on you girls, guys love sluts. These days, even with the fun sexually adventurous girls, most of them don't even want to give a blowjob on camera for fear it'll give her that label. It's really putting a damper on team funds, and team morale. But you can change that. You're a role model."

"I don't think I'm that much of a role model," Peyton said, feeling flattered again nonetheless. "I mean, I don't think it's suddenly going to become cool to fuck dogs just because I do it. I'm just a freshman, older girls barely know I exist."

"Oh, that's true." She frowned. "I'm kidding. You're more known than you think, anyway. I mean, yeah, you're still a freshman, and so it's not like you're the queen of the school, but you're respected. You're a cheerleader, and a damn good one. And you're not an asshole, you're the kind of girl that guys want to knock up and girls are envious of without being resentful. Some girls want to fuck you too, I have it on good authority that the female faction of the Gay-Straight Alliance masturbate together to pictures someone took in a change room." She knew about those, didn't think it was a big deal as long as no boys saw them, and was just glad none of what happened on the bus got out, or the private tastes she sometimes gave to girls who joined the Gay-Straight Alliance thinking they were straight, but later confessed that they thought they might be bi after one of those masturbation sessions. That would be a huge betrayal of her trust. "You might keep your own legs shut, but you're not a prude about other people... you treat all the Double-P Girls like they're any other friend of yours, and when you say slut, everyone thinks it's a compliment, so nobody wants to bring you down. If you start fucking dogs, believe me, the school will take notice and nobody will think, 'Yes! That self-righteous bitch finally slipped up, let's ruin her life!' Instead they'll think, 'Hey, we've all got secret kinks, I'm not going to judge her.' And plenty will think, 'Hey, if Peyton likes it, maybe bestiality isn't so bad.' They won't all jump in to do it, but that's just stage one. See, you're neglecting the huge influence you have in the other direction."

"The other direction?" Boys?

It wasn't boys. "If we want to get donations really up, enough to keep the busses running, maybe even get a special off-campus playhouse the team can party in, we need a supply of middle school whores. That's always what held us back the most, the big score. We get one or two, here or there, sisters of Predators, or sisters of Double-P Girls, mostly, like the girl squirming all over Brock's cock over there, and a few other naturally baby whores we've already got working for us, but no broad penetration. Middle school girls are even more judgmental about sex than high school girls. You're our key to changing that."

"Really? I'm that big an influence on them?" Her last year at that school, actually last year, she barely noticed the younger girls. Sure, there was the usual hazing, trying to trick the youngest girls to go to the southwest playground in the park alone, but she didn't think many of them fell for it and beyond that they didn't really mean much to her. None of them ever tried to sit at the lunch table she and her friends had claimed, which might count as a sign of respect now that she actually thought about it.

"No. Most of them barely know who you are. But you're a huge influence on someone they look up to. What you are to the Freshmen girls? Your little sister is to all the middle school girls. What she's into is what's cool, whether it be crop tops or taking doggy cock."

Peyton felt a flash of anger. Of course her little sister Hannah outshined her even in popularity at school. It wasn't like she didn't know. Hannah shared Peyton's blonde hair and bubbly attitude, but got better grades, had perfect teeth with no braces, and was all-around cuter. At home she got away with anything she wanted just with a wide-eyed smile or batted eyelashes. It was a wonder she wasn't a spoiled brat, but no, she was even disgustingly nice to Peyton so she felt guilty about being mad when she lost out. What really hurt was Daddy, who seemed to dote on Hannah and snuggled with her on the couch and with Peyton had become distant in the last couple years. Peyton could still get extra money or relief from a grounding or chores if she said pretty-please, but Dad always took her little sister's side in any arguments and it seemed like he made all her school events instead of only once in a while with Peyton, and that hurt. Mom at least was more even... she sided with Peyton in fights more if anything, but she knew it was just out of guilt because Peyton knew she was a cheating slut.

"So you only want me to fuck a dog because you think it'll make my sister fuck a dog?" She made a sour face.

Dave seemed to ignore it. "Which'll make other middle schoolers want to fuck a dog. And once a girl fucks a dog and everyone knows it, she stops worrying about people thinking she's a slut, and starts thinking about what benefits she can get from being one. It can happen to you too, and believe me, it'll change your life for the better and really help out the team."

"Okay, first of all, you're crazy if you think she'd do something like that..."

"Fucking a dog?"

"Yes, fucking a dog..." It was amazing how quickly that phrase rolled off the tongue now, and she wondered if they were deliberately trying to get her to say it so often just so it would seem more normal. It was working... she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't normal. Peyton continued, "Just because I do it on camera. Secondly... she's my sister! She's twelve! And you want me to turn her into some slut so you can sell her and her friends to perverted old men? That's sick."

"Yeah, we do, and it is... but don't you want to see your perfect little sister taken down a peg? To have your parents not think of her as perfect?"

Wow, she thought, maybe we're soulmates. Because Dave's words spoke to Peyton's deepest, innermost self in a way she'd never admit even in her thoughts, until a handsome man said it and all she had to do was agree. Not that she actually would betray her sister for that petty satisfaction, probably, but hearing it aloud made Peyton want to do whatever she could to get the man who knew her innermost desires so well to be her boyfriend. That just happened to include fucking a dog so her sister would. Would that be wrong, if it was for true love between soulmates? "Maybe a little," she said answering both questions. "But still." Convince me, she tried to send with her eyes.

"And you're wrong, she'd totally do it. That's why we need you here now, and we need this all on video. She's at a friend's house right now waiting for the live stream to start so she can watch it happen. She doesn't believe YOU'D do it. She wants to, she wants to see you all sloppy and cumming on a canine cock, I think she really wants to try it herself, but she thinks you're too classy to, and more than anything she wants to be classy and cool like you."

Peyton's head spun. It sounded incredible, but... could it be true? "Maybe she wants to see it," Peyton allowed. "I could see her wanting to see me do something that perverted and messy." She thought some more about the idea and nodded. "Yeah, I can see her wanting to see me degraded and begging for more. It's a sibling rivalry thing. I'd want to see her like that, too." She blushed, realizing it was the wrong thing to admit, but another thing that was too late. "But it wouldn't inspire her to do it herself." If anything the opposite, it was what they called a vicarious thrill. She was master of riding that thrill. Watching other girls on the bus do perverted things... sure it also made her want to try, see what it really felt like instead of just imagining it, but at the same time it made it easier to say no to trying. Maybe her sister was the same way. "If anything, she's playing you. You're seriously overestimating how much influence I have on her. We fight all the time."

"Really? What do you fight about?"

"Oh, you know, sister things. She takes my stuff without permission, snooping around in my room, interfering with my plans, makes a nuisance of herself."

"So basically she's always in your hair?"

"Exactly!"

"Because she wants to be near you, doing the things you're doing. She gets good grades because she knows you did. She joined middle school cheer because you were on it. When you're around, she wants your attention any way she can get it. That's kind of my point. Most of the guys on the team think she's got a huge crush on you."

"A what?" She didn't know what was harder to believe, that the guys on the team had discussed it and came to that conclusion, or that it might be true. Now that Peyton thought about, a lot of their fights were about wanting Hannah to give her some space, even at embarrassing times like going to the bathroom or shaving pussy.

"A crush. Like we're not sure it's a romantic one, or even a sexual one... she might not rub her pussy every night to the thought of making out with you, or eating you out...though given some of the things we know, that's probably part of it. But she wants to be just like you. If you ask me, it's because you're the only one who she feels she has to earn affection from... everyone else heaps it on her, but you, she only it gets it when she behaves the way you want, so that makes her feel she's really deserved it."

"If she behaved the way I wanted, we wouldn't fight at all."

"She's still a kid, she's feeling her way through life, she'll make mistakes. And it's confusing and frustrating when the person who you idolize doesn't want you around."

Peyton rolled that thought around in her head. Idolization, maybe. Romantic or sexual crushes? Hard to believe. It was flattering, exciting even, and might explain a few things if it were true... but even allowing that big if, she wasn't sure it changed anything. It was still her annoying little sister, after all, the one she's had to look out for all her life... she loved Hannah, sure, but it was a sibling love, full of almost as much resentment as affection. And it was still ridiculous to think that Hannah'd fuck a dog just because she did. Or that she'd convince anyone to follow her. "Okay, clearly you've been taking your sports psychology sessions too seriously," she said. It was a thing the team had, a tutor who lectured them on ways to psyche out their opponents... and given their record, obviously not doing a very good job. This was probably more of that. "You're making a lot of guesses on top of other guesses and they've got you thinking the impossible. I mean, my relationship with my sister is not the key to unlocking middle school promiscuity."

"It's worked pretty well so far."

"What do you mean?"

Dave grinned at her. "You think we started with dog fucking? You think we pulled this theory out of thin air?" He shook his head. "Right now, anyone who's anyone in the middle school eats pussy. Girls at least, although boys are catching on. It's just a thing friends do. That's how we found out about it, and we asked around, and guess what? Your little sister taught her friends that that was what cool people in high school did. Cool people like you."

"What? I don't know what you heard, but I've never..."

"Stuck your tongue in a pussy? Yeah, we know. Or at least, we don't know anyone reliable who says it. We know some girl-girl fun goes down when you guys borrow the bus, but you've kept yourself to kisses and fingers, innocent stuff, never tasted pussy yourself. But we've also heard that when it's someone else's tongue and YOUR pussy, you're a little more flexible."

She felt herself blush. "Those bitches! They promised to keep it quiet!"

"They? Well, well, well. We thought it was just one lucky girl." Now she blushed twice as hard. Now the secret was out... though, in truth, she suspected it was out already. After all, it probably wasn't coincidence that so many girls asked her to help them decide if they were gay. "Hey, I get it. I mean, I've never had to resort to it, but if I was horny enough and didn't have a girl willing to suck my cock, I probably would let a guy do it. It's just pleasure. Doesn't say anything about you."

"Well, someone was saying something about me. Who was the lucky girl?"

"That'd be Laney. She told your sister that you ate each other out, that it was what friends did, and got your sister to do it to her, and from there, it spread through her school. When we confronted her, she admitted what she did, that you'd never licked her back and she just was mad at you for not having her back when she got kicked off the team and that was why she tricked your sister. You'll be happy to know that your sister is apparently really, really good at licking pussy by the way. Everyone agrees. Laney says she's getting all the practice she can so she can impress you with her tonguework if you ever decide that she's not just a sister but also a friend."

"She wants to lick me?"

"So bad it must hurt. Any way she can get it. She's told Laney if you didn't want her to do it as a friend, she'd love to serve as your masturbation aid, or your clean-up crew if you ever get a boyfriend who cums inside of you. In fact, we're pretty well agreed, that if we wanted to get her to eat dog cum, we'd either have to get you to and let her watch you do it, or just get a dog to cum in drop his load in your cunt and get you to offer your pussy for eating. So, you know, if you absolutely refuse to do it on camera, if you're willing to fuck Carlos' dog privately and let your sister eat you out when you get home, it'd still help the team a lot."

She shook her head. "I don't think so, she wouldn't really do it, she just talks big for Laney. Even if she thought she wanted to eat me out, the smell of cum would turn her right off."

"Hasn't so far. Yeah, don't look so surprised. Eating pussy isn't the only thing your sister's made popular... thanks to her desire to be like her big sister, there's a lowkey lunch hour glory hole service by the middle school."

"What? Okay, this time I'm being totally honest, I've never sucked a dick in my life! And you're saying my little sister has?"

"Several. And sucked the cum out of Laney's fresh-fucked pussy, but that came after. She likes watching a good fuck, and seems like watching gets her hungry."

If Dave was her boyfriend, and sex was okay, that could work out all right. But he wasn't... and there was a flaw in his argument, she'd never tasted cum. "So obviously, it's nothing to do with me, she's just, you know, slutty." She tried her best not to make it sound like an insult, since he'd just finished praising her for that.

"You know that girl Darcy, on your cheer team?" Peyton nodded, dazed by the sudden topic shift. The glory hole girl. Now a probationary cheerleader at the second-string practices. "When she's kneeling to suck a cock poking out of a wall, she looks an awful lot like you from the back."

Her mouth hung open. She remembered that night well... didn't know anyone filmed it, it was against the unspoken rule, but apparently somebody did, and somehow Peyton got the blame for it.

"Admittedly it was a dirty trick... I want you to know, I wasn't behind that, but it did prove our little theory. She wants to do what her big sister does. And the other girls want to do what she does. Or outdo her. The sixth-grade class president is organizing a blowjob buffet at her birthday party. A few of the Predators have invitations because, from that video, bigger is obviously better."

"I can't believe you did that. I don't want my sister thinking I sucked a cock out of a hole. And if that story somehow got around to my parents..."

"You know, that really won't be a worry if you fuck a dog..."

"That would make it even worse!"

"No, it'd make it even better! If people already think you're a slut, you might as well enjoy it, right? But the truth is, only middle schoolers believe it, and not even all of those. Even your sister's getting pretty suspicious of it."

"She is?"

"Yeah. Which is kind of why we've been pushing this so hard. The ones who fooled her? They fucked up. She was all excited about it at first, told all her friends, but now she's starting to think it was all a trick, that you really aren't the secret slut they've been painting you as. Now she's asking for proof of every story. Including the dog-fucking ones. And if she doesn't get it, well, the word will go out, that you're a prim and proper young lady who never does anything sexual, and Hannah will try to behave that way too, that that's the cool way to behave. And that's like, the worst thing that could happen. The blowjob buffet'll be cancelled, the new glory hole will end, and girl-girl sex might even go out of style. Worse... not only do we not get the middle school whores we've been counting on, but then in a couple years, they may become high school prudes. The team'll be royally fucked then. We might have moved on by then, but the team will always matter to us, school spirit is forever, you should understand that. How would we feel if we screwed up such a good thing? I know if I just let it happen without doing anything I could to stop it, I'd feel horrible. That's why we need your help, we need to show your sister that we weren't lying, so, please, Peyton, I'm begging you, for the sake of the team, will you please fuck a dog on camera and smile like it's the best thing ever? After that, you can go back to saving your virginity, at least until you meet the right guy, and if you do it well enough, before long everyone will believe it was just a nasty rumor that you fucked a dog in the park, except for your sister of course, and maybe the middle school, and us. We will never, ever forget what you did for us. The team would owe you a huge debt. And we've got pull, we could get you that head cheerleader position once you're eligible for varsity. Or any position you like."

It was surprisingly tempting. Seeing her baby sister turned into a dog-fucking whore... maybe she could even ask for a cut of the money they'd get. A thrill went through her, but then immediately got pushed down. No, it was too scary to actually do that. You could never be sure a video like that wouldn't leak, spread around the school, get back to her parents. And besides, it was a dog. If fucking a dog was so fun everyone would do it, right? "Look, I just don't know if I can do that. I mean, if you need to trick my little sister into thinking I fucked a dog, sure, I can live with that... maybe you can tell her I did but wouldn't do it on camera. I'll even play along in private and let her lick my pussy and imagine it's full of doggy cum. But it's one thing to pretend, another thing to actually do it in front of everyone and have everyone know."

"Suspect, not know. You'd get the best of both worlds, everyone who thinks it's cool would think you've got a secret kinky side, and everyone who doesn't would think you've been horribly mistreated. But the dog-fucking has to be real, you can't fake that. Your sister would taste the lack of dog cum and call us all liars. Even with a weird taste, she might not believe us without video that the taste is doggy cum. We'll take it however far you want, but if you're going to go one step, might as well go all the way. If you're willing to let her eat you out, you might as well let the dog fuck you, and if you're going to do that, you might as well let your sister watch live from Laney's house. Oh, not to put any pressure on you, but... this might be your last chance to fuck a dog and get away with it."

Peyton smirked. Her dad was a salesman, and he told her one good way to get someone off the fence was to make them think the offer was going away if they didn't act now. "Oh, really?"

"Either this all blows up in our faces, or it doesn't. If it does, fucking dogs will stay the kind of kinky shit only real freaks get into. If we manage to salvage it, without you fucking a dog, then we're going to keep trying to make it trendy. We gotta. And if we do... well, let's just say, you'll have lost your chance to do it without being considered a bandwagon jumper. And you know how it goes in this town, with any bandwagon jumper, there's a cost to be paid." It was true, a friendly tradition, not just at the high school level but for the town as a whole, including sports at all levels... if you only supported the team when they were winning, the true fans embarrassed you for it. Fair-weather fans, the men, had to dress up in slutty cheerleader outfits to go to a game, or deliver their girlfriends, sisters, or mothers to the team for a gangbang before you'd be accepted. Women often had to get a team logo tattooed in a sensitive place, and flash it during the game, or streak, just to show you were really committed.

Peyton could imagine how that would apply to sex with animals. Just because 'Act now or risk missing out!' was a good sales technique didn't mean it wasn't also sometimes true. It worked for a reason. She wasn't sure she wanted to fuck a dog, ever, but she couldn't rule it out as she would have only hours ago. "And what's the cost?"

Dave's hand went back to work on his cock, which had faltered a little while he made his case but jumped as he related his view of the future. "We're thinking of giving new girls a choice after their first dog fuck, wear a collar and leash for a month, or get a paw-print tattoo on their ass with something like 'certified mutt slut.' If we find out they tried a little doggy sex without owning up to it--and believe me, we can tell, a well-trained dog can sense a human bitch--then we'll make 'em do both, make sure the paw print is high enough that they can't wear belly shirts, and then use the leash to parade them through the school naked at pep rallys. Don't think we can't do it, either. If we pull this off, we'll be rolling in dough, and the administration has promised they'll have our backs for virtually anything up to and including non-violent rapes on stage of sluts in denial. Not good girls like you, but good girls like you will have to be very careful not to fall. It'll be a divided school, between the kinky fucks and the respectable side. I guess it always was, but the difference is, there'll be fewer hypocrites about who is who, especially with dog fuckings, and the respectable girls are going to be an endangered species with the middle school sluts about to replace them and the kinky side getting even kinkier and having more fun and getting away with it. The girls who helped us start the dogfucking trend, they'll have plausible deniability, able to pretend to belong to both sides. Well, except the ones with videos out, but even then, only the kind of people who watch bestiality videos will know for sure and they'll consider it a good thing. If we do our job right everyone in town will know the girls who only did it to get popular with the kinky fucks. So if you have any inkling that you might want to try doggy sex, but you want to keep your reputation intact with your parents and college recruiters, it's really best you take the knot now."

It was a bold vision of the future... crazy, impossible, but so bold Peyton had to let Dave ramble on and listened to the whole thing with wide-eyed anticipation, almost believing that it could be true, and not just something he got excited about while he stroked his dick. It even sounded like a world she might want to be a part of, not as an out and open dog slut, at least probably, but as one of the girls who got to hold the leash of the bandwagon jumpers.

If only too many of her dreams didn't depend on not being a part of it. He was right about one thing, it always was a divided school, full of both Double-P Girls and girls who've taken a chastity pledge, and cheerleaders who were expected to at least not be caught being dirty. Peyton had gotten by so far being mostly on the truly respectable side and watching the kinky stuff going on under her nose. Gotten off to it, but mostly at home, and now she wished she was there so she could take care of the need all this talk had caused. Or at least get raped into something kinky, a good rape that would make it obvious to anyone that she was still choosing to be respectable, but sometimes you get the choice taken away. Maybe it didn't need to be quite so obvious to her little sister. She was starting to think it would be okay if Hannah thought it was done by choice. Was there any way they could force her down and put a dog on top of her and somehow let her prove afterwards she was forced into it? "Look, I wish you luck, and I want to support the team, but I don't know if I could do anything with a dog. At least, not by choice. I mean, it's a dog."

A dog that was headed her way, now, along with Carlos, holding the leash, and Jamal beside him. When they got close, Carlos said, "Hey, man, have you convinced her yet?"

"Not yet," Dave said. Not yet meant he still thought it was going to happen. She admired the confidence. Almost believed in it.

"What's the hold-up?" Jamal said. "If you can't seal the deal, give up on the prize and let someone else try. Lotta people waiting."

Dave shot him a scowl. "Look, this isn't one of your cock-addicted stoner girls with nothing to lose. She's a sweet girl who really wants to help us out but is afraid of crossing a line that can't be uncrossed. That's natural. She's never even sucked a cock, much less a dog cock. Hasn't really even seen it up close."

"Well, here's your chance, if you want," Carlos said. "To look, I mean. I guess you can suck too if that'll make you feel better."

"I'm not going to suck," Peyton said. "But I suppose it doesn't hurt to look." She stepped off her seat and drew close to the dog. Dave followed behind after putting his cock away, or at least leaving it tucked into the waistband of his boxers so his pants wouldn't fall down while he walked. The dog sure was a friendly fellow, wagging his tail eagerly and the moment she came near he was trying to smell her legs, trying because Carlos kept a hold of the leash and directed him to turn to the side. Peyton knelt and looked at the furry little protrusion, the part that she knew wasn't the whole thing but just indicated where it was. "So, how do you get it to come out."

"You suck," Jamal suggested, but Dave hit him.

Carlos explained, "We've got him trained. Scratch him at the back, just at the base of his tail. Or pull up your skirt and let him smell your pussy. Either way will get him hard."

She shivered, imagining the second option, but went with the first, gave the dog a little scratch at the designated place. "He's cuter than I expected." She wasn't sure the breed, but looked like he had golden retriever in there somewhere, adding eager expressive eyes and floppy ears that softened what otherwise might be an intimidating beast. "What's his name?"

"Dameron, after the best Star Wars character. We call him Dam for short, though. And he prefers sexy to cute."

"I'm sorry, I just don't find dogs sexy at all. They're just...." But she watched, and scratched, as a long veiny pink cock started to emerge, and she forgot to finish with the word "cute." The cock wasn't cute. Or sexy. Compared to Dave's, it was downright ugly. But it was impressive, maybe more impressive, and it demanded attention, respect even.

"Now imagine that meat ramming inside your tight little pussy," she heard, a breathy whisper at her side. Jamal. And she couldn't help it, she did, imagined vividly, watching it disappear, even imagined what it'd look like to someone watching on a video. Damn good, it seemed to her. What she couldn't imagine was the feel, not exactly anyway, she'd never had anything that big inside of her, and the only thing she'd had inside of her that was warm and alive was a girl's finger or a tongue, much smaller. This felt like something that was part finger, part tongue, and a hell of a lot bigger than both of them put together. And it squirted, she assumed. She always wondered what it felt like, something squirting. Girls tongues didn't squirt... the closest was when one girl spit in her pussy, but that was mostly outside, not in. Peyton could try and imagine that, and the feel of being split apart by something that big and ugly, but it was too outside of her experience, especially when her imagination was already in overdrive, trying to speculate at so many other things... the belly fur against her ass, the paws on her body (she was stuck wondering, would they be on her back, or on her shoulders, or just beside her? Would the claws dig into her and hurt?), how much of the wild tongue Dam would use during sex. Trying to put all of that together into one mental picture? That was like a dream right after waking up, she could chase after wisps of it but never the whole thing. Peyton, with regret, decided that the only way she'd ever be able to really capture the whole experience in her head was by remembering it after she tried it out.

Which still wasn't an option. "I can't," she whined, and now she knew she sounded truly regretful. "I'm sorry, I'd love to help, but I haven't really done anything sexual with a person." The lesbian stuff didn't count. "I don't think I could do it with a dog."

"You can take baby steps, if you want," Dave suggested. "Just hold the dick. Or better yet, let him lick you for a while."

"He does love to lick pussy juice," Carlos pointed out. "The Dam bitches can't get enough of his long doggy tongue, either." He went on as though she asked, "That's what we call the girls Dam fucks on the regular, the Dam bitches. It's funny, you know?"

"Is that why you called him Dameron instead of Poe?"

"No, but my Uncle Guapo, everyone calls him Po, and he lives with us... it woulda been confusing. Besides, would you rather be a Poe Bitch or a Dam Bitch?"

"I guess if I had to choose, a Dam bitch," Peyton said, still watching the cock for a few seconds before looking up. "I know that's what you want to make me." He shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal. "And I can also figure out what you're thinking, if I do something like touch it, or have it lick me, well, then I'm halfway to being a Dam bitch. Even if I don't like him licking my pussy, everyone will know what I tried and I look almost as bad." She looked around, Carlos, Jamal, Dave, and Dameron were the only ones immediately nearby, but there were still lots of people casually watching and pretending they weren't. "Anyone here could have a camera."

"I've got a solution," Jamal said from behind her. "It'll help you make up your mind. Foolproof. But you have to promise to go through with it before I tell you."

That pulled Peyton out of her cock-trance, and to her feet, dusting off her knees, looking at Jamal which was safer than looking at a dog cock. "Right. I'm not going to fall for that."

"No, I swear, you won't have to touch the dog if you don't want to. But if you don't promise in advance, it doesn't work. If it involves touching Dameron, or anyone else, or even yourself, you can back out, but short of that, you have to agree to try what I say. Deal?"

Peyton looked at him, looked to Dave, who shrugged like he didn't have any idea what was going on. Now she was getting damn curious. "Okay, fine, deal. I promise."

"Okay, here's what you do. See that tube there?" He pointed to a piece of park equipment, one of those blue plastic tunnels that kids could crawl through. She nodded. "You and Dameron go in the tunnel for five minutes. We stay back. It's small enough that he can't mount you, but he could sure lick your cunt good."

She frowned. "You said..."

"I didn't say you had to. Just that he could if you wanted to pull up your skirt and let him. Nobody can say you're going to do that. You already agreed to go into the tube without knowing what it was. But you could." He took a breath, leaving her thinking about it, then continued. "It's like an experiment they taught us in science class, Schrodinger's Cat. Cat in the box, no one knows if it's alive or dead if they don't open it. Except this is Schrodinger's Pussy. You go in with the dog. None of us know if you got a twat full of dog tongue or he just licked your hand for five minutes."

"You could peek through the ends, though." Or one of the little holes in the side that let light in, though you'd have to get closer to see anything through those.

"Except why would we? That only helps us if you're going in there to get eaten out by a dog. Are you going there to get eaten out by a dog? Cause if you are, it would save us a lot of trouble if you just try it out here." She shook her head, but she wasn't sure if she was lying. "If you don't do anything, it's better if we don't look because if you're in there long enough, maybe you'll get curious and change your mind. And since you know it's better for us if we don't look, you have the option to change your mind and keep it a secret... you can do whatever you want. Are we in the universe where you secretly let a dog lick your cunt? Or are we in a universe where you were a good girl? We'll never know unless you tell us. Which I think means until then we're in both, under quantum theory, anyway."

"Geez, Jamal," Dave said. "That's fucking brilliant, man. If you know that quantum physics shit, why did you fail last year?"

He shrugged. "I flunked the finals on purpose, cause the girls in high school are more fun than college girls. And the team needed me on defense."

Dave nodded. "Right. Team comes first. Principle to live by, right?" They exchanged a fistbump.

She nodded too, distantly, thinking of what she would do, or not do, in the tube. Helping the team was what this was all about, and she'd just agreed to that principle by nodding, but that probably wasn't binding. What was binding was her time in the tube. She did promise Jamal, and it didn't involve touching Dam, or anyone else, or even herself, unless she wanted it to. "Okay, I'll go into the tube with Dam here, but the only thing he'll be licking is my hand."

The two crawled down into the tube, Peyton's mind racing with possibilities, but she decided going in that she was still going to be a good girl. Inside, it was a tight fit and she could only see Dam's head, not his cock, and that helped a lot. "Be a good doggy, Dameron, and don't get any ideas." It would be easy to let him just lick her hand... even easier to just let him lick her legs, but that was just because of the position she was in. If her legs were closed, there was no problem with him licking legs, right? So that's what she did.

For the first minute, anyway.

Nobody seemed to be peeking in. She was very attentive of that at first as she submitted to the dog tongue which was more ticklish than anything else. But a good kind of ticklish. Would it be such a big deal to open her legs a little? If only to get in a more comfortable position.

The licks went up her thighs and Dam pressed forward, pressing his advantage as though he could smell the dripping pussy. Well, why not? Peyton thought after about ten seconds of thigh licking. There still didn't seem to be anyone looking. No one would know for sure that she pulled up her cheerleader skirt and the spanx to the side.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned as the tongue lashed out into her virgin pussy for the first time. It was so long, not like another girl's tongue. This got her slit, clit, and even a little bit of asshole all in one lick. And he wasn't satisfied with one lick. Peyton soon realized her mistake, everyone would know if she was--"OH FUCK YEAH," getting licked in a sensitive spot, or several, by the words, or the wordless cry that followed when she felt the dog's tongue slip inside her hole instead of around it, the closest thing to a fuck yet even if it was just one wiggly thrust and withdrawal. "Good doggy," she breathed. "You are such a good doggy," and let him lick some more. "That's it boy... oh, yeah... " And then clapped one hand over her traitorous mouth. The other hand, that was at her crotch now, spreading the lips apart to give Dam better access, and rubbing incidentally to make it feel much better. But with the hand on her mouth... she still made noise, but it was moans barely muffled as a wonderful wormlike tongue performed magic on her and brought her closer and closer to...

"Okay, Dam, that's enough," she heard through a fog of pleasure in her head, and then a growl and the sounds of claws scraping along plastic as the doggy unwillingly pulled away from her, dragged by the leash.

"No, no," she whined automatically as her hand left its duties guarding her mouth a little too soon. "Come back, I need that tongue..." Not just the tongue either, a cold nose that sometimes snorted with surprising and unexpected force against her pussy that complemented his licking nicely. But Dam was retreating, and her words hung in the air. When the dog was out, it turned away showing his erect penis and then walked away casually, and at the end of the tunnel Peyton saw a circle of heads, Carlos, Jamal, Dave, and the male gym teacher all of whom were looking down the tube at her legs spread and pussy exposed, glistening with doggy saliva. Schrodinger's Pussy was open, and everyone knew the kind of slut that was there. The worst part was, she couldn't even claim to be tricked... they told her all she had to do was not let him do anything, and she did anyway.

Dave's head disappeared from one end, and she saw him reappear on the other side of the tunnel, offering her a hand to get out and to her feet. She did, and it was like emerging into another universe... a universe where she just begged for a dog to eat her out, and everyone knew. A ragged cheer came out of the men in that universe, at least the ones nearby but it felt like all the men in the universe, and she realized that many of them were seeing her pussy still exposed under her cheerleader suit.

She got herself decent, which wasn't exactly the best way to describe it, but she at least covered her pussy in something other than dog-slobber. "That didn't go like I planned," she said to Dave.

"It's okay. Honestly, we don't really know what happened. Maybe he didn't lick you. Maybe you were playing some really big trick on us." Dave shrugged. "But we'd still really like it if you let him fuck you."

Carlos added, "And if you really did want the tongue back inside you, the good thing about Dam is, after he cums, he's more than willing to lick up his own mess. Let him drop a load inside you and his tongue will be in there until we drag him away."

And now her pussy practically ached with longing at the suggestion. Not just Carlos', either, it started with what Dave said. Before, every time she heard a suggestion that she fuck a dog, there was a little twitch of taboo delight at the idea, but easy to ignore. Now, it was hard to ignore, it was like a shout in her head saying, "YES FUCK THAT DOG." The tongue was good, and she wanted more of that too, but her pussy was crying out for something longer and harder to push her over the edge, and she didn't care who it belonged to or if it was on camera. Maybe she even wanted it, wanted to be a known doggy slut, wanted her sister to see it and join her. Maybe that was the real trick, getting her so horny that maybe she could still say no, but she didn't want to anymore. That's where she was.

All she had to do was decide if that want outweighed every other want she had. Right now it was pretty close. Just needed a little push one way or the other. "Ummm... were you serious when you said you knew a way that I could do this and still make head cheerleader?"

"Absolutely," Dave promised. "As long as you're willing to eat a little pussy, it's no problem."

"Dude, don't give it away."

"Hey, I didn't say whose pussy." It made sense though, now, that it was her coach's. She made the big decisions... nobody figured her for a lesbian because she was married, but she could easily be bi. Some girls were, some women must be too. Peyton wasn't, still never saw the attraction of eating pussy, still seemed a little gross, but a little bit of ick seemed a small price to pay. "And there's no sense holding out on her, if she won't do this, she won't do that. If she's willing to cooperate this far, I think we owe her even if she doesn't fuck a dog on video for us."

"Does it have to be on video?" she asked, hoping for a yes rather than a no. She looked into Dave's eyes, trying to convince him to say that even if it wasn't true.

"No, we can try to let your sister eat the cum out of you. It might work. I only get my prize if it you do it while we live stream it, though. And I'm not going to take a girlfriend unless I can trust a Predator with her."

That left her with a decision she didn't want to make. If he'd said yes, it would have been an easy one, now it was going to be a hard one. She was going to fuck the dog, she knew then, she just had to decide on what version of the rest of her life she wanted more, the one where she kept it mostly a secret and had a shot still looking like a good girl to her family, school, and college, or the one where she risked tossing her reputation in the trash and took her chances. "And you say it'd help out the team more if I do it on the stream, right?"

"It would."

"Okay, then I'll do it."

Everyone smiled then, even Peyton, once she'd made the promise, it seemed to be a huge weight off her shoulders. They got right to it, too, as though afraid she would change her mind, but she didn't think she would, or could, change her mind. It was like Dave said, it was a line that couldn't be uncrossed, even agreeing to it, so they guided her to the sand pit to a round of applause and made get down on all fours, still in her uniform, but pulled up to her waist, and stared into one of the many smartphone cameras pointed at her with a dazzling smile. Only one of them was going to the stream her sister was supposedly watching, she knew that, the others might be going other places or recorded permanently, maybe permanently ruin those cheerleader dreams she'd tried so hard to preserve, at least unless Dave wasn't lying to her about how far a slut could go, but her heart was beating so fast--and her cunt screaming in time with it--that she didn't care. She was ready to throw the good girl act aside and become part of the kinky fuck half of the school, that was the team she was on, in her heart, and you gotta support your team, all the way, so she smiled into every camera she saw and said, "My name's Peyton and I'm about to let you watch me fucking a dog, because I love my school so much. Go Predators!"

This tale's growing long as it is, and no one wants to read about a tiny teenage blonde cheerleader actually getting fucked by a dog so...

Oh, you do?

Fine.

Little blonde fourteen-year-old Peyton wiggled her ass at Dameron, showed off a drooling and blushing pussy for anyone recording, let the dog take a few licks with the magic tongue that got her into this mess, and then before she knew it he'd hopped up and a long hard fleshy spear was poking up against her and soon after that splitting apart her tight virgin labia, possibly soon ex-virgin depending on whether you think dogs counted, although almost certainly ex-virgin within a few hours regardless. Dameron sank inside her, almost calmly at first, like she was any other bitch, then started a powerful animalistic humping that made Peyton's eyes roll up in her head as she was finally pushed over into her first orgasm of the night, despite the pain. She didn't feel the dog's paws or claws on her shoulder like she imagined, just, under the pleasurable and painful sensation of being split apart and the sound of her own moans, a constant awareness of soft fur. She managed to have another orgasm, screaming about how much she loved being a doggy slut, when the dog knotted, but that's really where fantasy works better than reality, since at that point he simply turned away from her, leaving the still large cock ending in an even larger knot inside her to dribble (not squirt) doggy cum into a (potentially) ex-virgin cunt, but the humping had stopped and so did a lot of fun. The fantasy of a girl to get knotted by a dog is a lot more exciting than the actuality, as unless a dog is really well trained, the fucking is over at that point and it's not really worth talking about. It's still fun to watch a little girl in that predicament, mind you, and by the time dog-fucking got to be a middle school trend they'd gotten better trained dogs, but that night Peyton just had to lie a little on camera, about how it was everything she dreamed of and a lot of fun and she'd absolutely do it again. It was fun, and she didn't rule out doing it again, it was just a bit of a letdown at the end, and she was pleased when the knot finally came loose leaving a flood of runny cum, so she could pose for pictures with her fingers in a peace sign and a pussy that no longer knew shame, at least for a while.

That was more worth talking about. Jamal was the first, and wanted his picture with her on her knees, spread because Dam's tongue was licking up his mess, and, while they posed but before the picture was taken, the Predator called a halt and dragged his cock out. "Here, why don't we take a better picture. Open up!"

She stared at a cock that was bigger than Dameron's, and a lot more appetizing, and the doggy tongue licking doggy cum out of her recently doggy-fucked pussy make the idea really appealing, but some shred of shame and dignity had returned and made her draw back at the suggestion. And also because she still knew cum would taste awful. Actually having a cock in her mouth always seemed pretty cool, just not to deal with the yucky mess, and she didn't think Jamal would settle for just a posed picture. "Uh, I said I'd have sex with a dog, I didn't say I'd do anything else."

Jamal shook his head sadly. "You'd fuck a dog but not suck my cock? It's because I'm black? Wow. That's blatantly racist." He waved his hand outward to the crowd. "Do you want the whole team to see you being racist? Or are you going to agree that Black Cocks Matter?"

Her dad told her that if she ever heard 'Black Lives Matter' to shout 'All Lives Matter.' She never did, but wondered if that applied to cocks, as well. That would seem like an offer to suck everyone here, and between orgasms she was starting to feel doubt and a nagging feeling that maybe she should try to limit the damage to her reputation. On the other hand, she didn't want to look racist, so maybe just sucking a black cock was better. Then, finally, she remembered she had a good reason, or at least a good excuse, she shouldn't do that, either. She looked around, saw Dave, who had a shit-eating grin on his face, hanging out with Sammy and a couple other team members a few feet away. "Well, Dave won me, right? So if he's my boyfriend, I can't suck your cock. I'd really love to, but it'd be cheating."

Jamal looked confused, and his smile faltered, then restored itself. "Oh yeah? You hear that Dave?"

Dave looked up, and Peyton thought he looked guilty for not being able to help out his team mate. That must have been why he said, "Yeah. And she's right, but... it's only cheating if I don't okay it right? And I gotta admit, if Jamal didn't help out with his idea, you might never have become a certified mutt slut. So, go ahead, suck him off. Set a good example for the middle school whores."

After saying she'd love to suck his cock, she could hardly change her mind when given permission, so she opened her mouth for the first ever dick that had gone inside, but not the last, or the last that night. Seemed like Dave was pretty liberal with what he'd allow his girlfriend to do, and All Cocks did matter.

At least she assumed Dave was liberal with his girlfriends, anyway. While she was struggling to fit her first big black cock into her mouth, Carlos finally pulled Dam away, sat on the bench next to Dave, threw his dog a treat from his pocket so he'd stop whining about missing his chance to lap up cum and pussy juice, and said, "So you going to break the news that the pretty blonde girl you were planning on calling dibs on is her little sister Hannah?"

Dave looked back at a little blonde star cheerleader giving up her oral virginity to a black cock, looking at him wide-eyed and seeking approval. He shot her a smile and a thumbs up, and said, too quietly for her to hear, "Eventually, but I don't want to shatter her illusions right away. I feel bad that she took it that way, and she really did a huge favor for the team, the least I can do is pretend to be interested in her for a few days. And we're probably going to need at least a week to get Hannah spreading the gospel of dog fucking, oral, and anal whoring through the middle school anyway before I lock her down and start trying to knock her up. Might as well keep my mark on Peyton until then just to be polite. Maybe I'll get lucky and get her pregnant before her dad makes a move. You did send her dog fucking video to him, right?"

"Yup. I'm sure he'll send the rest of the bounty after he finishes jacking off. Good job, man."

"Couldn't have done it without Dameron here. And Jamal, too. Hey, speaking of which, it's gonna take her forever to make him cum. Feel like going on a beer run?"

"Sounds good. Maybe we can pick up a few more girls, improve the ratio a bit. These girls are going to be worn out and stretched silly by the end of the night. Poor Mrs. Pokorny is already passed out and that fifth-grader Brock brought looks like she'd ready for bed time too."

"Good idea." Dave got up and took a few steps back to the sandpit. She looked up at him, her mouth stretched halfway down Jamal's cock. "We're gonna go out for more beer and a few more girls. Until we get back, your mouth and ass are fair game for any Predator, okay?" She made a surprised noise, but it couldn't be understood with Jamal's cock in the way. "That's my girl. Way to be a team-player!"

Maybe she hadn't intended to say yes, but she hadn't intended to say yes to dog fucking either. But she was a good cheerleader, on her way to becoming a head cheerleader, and all good cheerleaders know... you gotta support your team before anything else.

Hannah was a good cheerleader too, and seemed like a perfect girlfriend to Dave, at least for a while. But Dave did get a nasty surprise a few years later as his sweet underage wife, married at fourteen thanks to parental consent and a friendly judge, considering her pregnant condition at the time, finally delivered the baby and heir Dave's family had been waiting for. It was a difficult birth because of Hannah's size, and the baby needed some care, but a few hours later, Hannah was wheeled out and presented everyone in the waiting room Dave's son, a child with dark brown skin and nappy hair that no adult in either Dave's family or Hannah's had. In front of the wide-mouthed gasps of his parents, the new mother said, "Oops, sorry honey. You're probably mad, but I guess I might as well admit it now... I slipped up a few dozen times when I was fertile."

You should have been there to hear the way the family raged, including Dave himself. You'd think it was the end of the world, though to some in the family it was almost as bad, especially since a friendly nurse (and former Screaming Eagle Bitch) had read the writing on the wall and rushed Dave, the ostensible father, into signing the birth certificate before he saw the color of the baby's skin. A signed birth certificate mattered a lot in court even if paternity was disproven. Dave's hasty signature guaranteed the baby would carry his last name and almost guaranteed him a share of the family wealth or a lengthy court battle to prevent it. S'what he gets for not being in the delivery room, if you ask me. What is this, the nineteen-fifties?

In the middle of this storm of bad feelings, where she was being called a slut and a whore and far less polite things, Hannah calmly put a set of black lips to milk-swollen baby tits and said, "Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise it wasn't with a Predator. If I've got my timing right, it was probably with one of the guys on the Wildcats, maybe the quarterback... if this little guy looked Asian I'd have said chess club for sure. I mean, it still could be, there is that one black nerd in the club and I did fuck him an awful lot that week." Which prompted a renewed burst of outrage, because a black baby was bad enough, screwing someone from another school's team was even worse, but... he might be a chess club nerd's baby? The interracial bastard love child might not even be athletic!

To that, Hannah simply said, "Oh, come on, even if it's not quite what you wanted, you should be a good sport. If you need any tips on that, you can ask my sister." And smiled an icy smile that proved to everyone that this was planned, maybe for years, revenge for how Peyton, now a mother herself, got treated. Peyton really was a good sport about it all, now, but Hannah never forgot how bad her sister felt when Dave chose Hannah instead, and how Peyton regretted never achieving her dream to be a professional cheerleader. She didn't even get to cheer at college. The closest she got was a few months of the coveted varsity head cheerleader position before her own pregnancy put an end to her jumps and flips for good. That was when Hannah started fucking around exclusively with people of other races and without a condom. Dave learned this after shooing his family out, and asking, with a heartbroken face, why she did it. "Fair's fair, honey. You ruin my sister's dream, I ruin yours. Now your family name's a little bit muddy. Gotcha."

"Yeah, you got me all right, you cheating bitch," was the last thing Dave said before leaving the hospital to get drunk and contemplate how to explain it to his grandfather that not only is his second grandchild not white either, it's got his name. But the old man was in a nursing home because his memory was going anyway, and Dave wasn't dealing with anything lots of other Predators hadn't already, and he didn't want to be called racist by his former teammates for throwing out a black baby, so he eventually would come around to forgiving the girl, and being a good father, once the hurt died down. Personally, I think he shouldn't have been at all surprised. His wife was following the same rules he lived by, you gotta support your team, back them up when they need it, and put them before anyone else, and after all the times he watched his wife at her sister's pussy, he should have known better than anyone that Hannah had always been, and always would be, Team Peyton.

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

Special thank to Danaume who provided a few ideas surrounding the ending.

You sir, are a legend. Many, many thanks for this story, and I cannot wait to read MM2. Glad to have you back!

As a lawyer, I've read international arbitration documents that were simpler and less convoluted than the explanation of why Peyton had to fuck the dog.

great tribute as always. you really capture his style. please consider doing a rachael ross tribute, as well.. I think you'd be quite capable of emulating her unique style.

Sorry, Molestr sequel will be coming up next, but this was faster to edit. Another Phil Phantom story, not as strong as my last I think but it's done so I might as well post it.

Could Be Worse - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (M+f, Mg, Fg, Ff, fg, best, ws, inc, prost)

Anna was starting to get worried about her eldest daughter, but she couldn't discuss those worries with her husband with her youngest right there, not when those worries prominently included the little girl's big sister being potentially abducted or raped on the way home from a charity event. All she could say was, "Jerry, maybe it's time to send Cheryl to bed."

Jerry, as usual, seemed oblivious to any reasonable worries, at least with one daughter on his lap. "Dear, you know I promised her that she didn't have to go to sleep before her big sister did, and this family keeps our promises, no matter what. Right honey?"

"Right Daddy." The little ten-year-old nuzzled up her straight brown hair against him, renewing some worries about her too, worries Anna didn't give much credence to, except that when you're already worrying about one thing, it's easy to add another. But Jerry, in his patronizing way, had a point, she didn't want to set a bad example about promises, and so she nibbled her lip and looked back towards the driveway, hoping to see a car pulling up to drop off another little girl who was now gone almost ten hours.

Staring out the front window, it was dark enough that Anna could actually see what was going on behind her, in the reflection in the mirror, better than in front of her. And she couldn't help noticing the way her ten-year-old sitting on her father's lap while she watched YouTube videos on the family tablet was beginning to look sketchier and sketchier, and she'd was usually very skilled at not noticing. She very consciously did not notice how sketchy it started out looking, because monitoring their daughter's internet usage to make sure she wasn't watching anything inappropriate seemed like a good policy. And from there, once she'd decided not to notice, the changes had progressed so slowly she wasn't sure anything was happening at all. Even now, nothing was outright at the stage where she thought she had to intervene, for appearance's sake if nothing else, but that uncomfortable awareness she'd pushed away so often did make a fresh knot in her stomach just the same. Yes, it was definitely getting hard not to take notice of her youngest starting to straddle her father's knee when she thought Mom wasn't looking, or wiggle her butt on what would have been his hard cock if his daughter in his lap made Jerry hard. The motion wouldn't last long, and, if Anna turned around, she knew, it would almost certainly turn out to be part of an innocent change in positioning to get more comfortable. But what did they do when she left the room to go to the bathroom, she wondered.

She took a breath and tried to dismiss the thought again. Polly was the one to really worry about, she was just starting to obsess about Cheryl because she was right there while Anna was also plagued with vivid visions of Polly being kidnapped on the way home, dragged into a van, her clothes torn off as she cried, and then raped by multiple men, their cocks making a spermy mess of her virgin holes, probably giving her a rapist baby, maybe a biracial rapist baby that would one day come to rape grandma. That scenario might be wildly improbable... even the tamer parts probably more improbable than Cheryl being molested by her father, but mothers worry. And Cheryl was probably fine, unsupervised or not. Touching under her skirt, maybe at most... rubbing on the thigh or maybe over the panties was inappropriate, and Anna dreaded it getting blatant so she had to make a scene, but she was confident it wouldn't go much farther than that.

After all, she knew her husband... not in the way wives sometimes do where they say they know their husband wouldn't have sex with another woman, or a child, or their own daughter, but turns out they were wrong after it actually happens. Jerry was morally capable of all of that, she knew, all men probably were, even if not all acted on that capability. Perversion was everywhere, even among the most respectable, but Jerry also had something special holding him back... ironclad kinks that even after almost a decade and a half of marriage she couldn't make a dent in.

Before they tied the knot, when they in the early stages of dating in fact, she got a heads up on them from both of Jerry's ex-girlfriends, his sister, and even his mother. In fact, the first time Anna met her future mother-in-law, she warned her that he was pathologically shy of making the first move, and blamed it on molestation from an aggressive relative. She thought his mom was joking at first, since she made the revelation so casually and in his presence, and especially since Jerry had already kissed Anna without any prompting at all, but soon discovered it was true, merely more complex than his mom had explained. Kissing was one thing, and apparently didn't count as a first move, although she was usually the one to turn the kisses French. Nor did hand-holding or asking a girl to a movie or other early stages in a relationship... but as things started to get hot and heavy, Anna found that Jerry was a frustrating man to date, and the motherly advice that she'd initially dismissed had a lot of truth behind it.

If she hadn't figured that out, and more importantly, how to work around it, Cheryl and Polly might never have been born. The man... the boy, back then, had a serious complex, he simply could not expose himself unless someone else was completely naked first, and he could neither ask that of someone else, or do anything to encourage it except hinting in the most oblique, ass-backward ways. If Anna asked him if she should unbutton her shirt, all he would do is shrug like he couldn't care less whether her nipples were exposed or not. It took three dates of frustrating makeouts in his car before his sister took Anna aside and completed their mother's advice with the most important details. She calmly explained that Jerry wouldn't go under her shirt unless a girl pulled her top up first, that if she wanted to get fingered she needed to wear a skirt and no panties and show her wet pussy, and if she wanted a fuck, she either had to get completely naked and wait for him to get the hint and become the aggressor, or fish his dick out of his pants and "do whatever you want with it while he just lets it happen." While Anna stared open-mouthed and tongue-tied at the advice, his sister finished, "Or if that's too much trouble, just dump him... but please stop sending him home with blue balls. It's cruel."

It took some courage, and checking with his exes to make sure that really was what he needed, before she put those rules into practice, but, after all this time, those same conditions still applied every instance they made love. Jerry simply could not seem to shake whatever complex was set up in childhood, which was convenient in many ways... it might even have been part of the reason she eventually married him. With Jerry, she never felt she had to worry about him cheating on her, despite his young secretary, and whenever she wasn't in the mood she never had to deal with him pestering her with his needs. And that was important, because although Anna loved sex as much as the next woman, she had phases, but even worse, she always had trouble saying no to things.

In fact, the inability to say the N-word (no, not the other N-word) could be said to be a quirk almost as strong as Jerry's, though there was much more wiggle room. It didn't apply to her kids, of course, it's hard to be a good mother without being learning the use of that word, although even with them she was considered an easy touch, more comfortable shooting warning glares or making her displeasure known in other ways but slow to actually outright forbid something. And even when she wasn't saying the word directly to her kids, but it was something that just involved them, she rarely had a problem saying no in their defense. Sometimes something just didn't feel right, either blatantly offensive requests, or just an vague bad feeling, like when her sister-in-law would offer to take the kids somewhere, like a supposedly really fantastic Santa's Village or a fun secluded beach in a town a few hours away, supposedly to give Anna and Jerry some alone time. Such refusals were usually gentle, often with an excuse or a 'maybe another time', but she was capable of making a decision and refusing to budge from it.

Her problem saying no mostly became an issue when it just involved her, and in particular she had a lot of trouble refusing men interested in her directly, blatantly, and sexually. Such men could easily push her way past her comfort zone, particularly if they were persistent and she wasn't ready for a determined seduction attempt that wasn't put off by weary sighs, glares, and eyerolls. It was an even bigger problem in her teen years, which was why had seemed so refreshing to date a guy she knew wouldn't push so she wouldn't have to tell him no or, more likely, give in, even when she wasn't horny. It was a feeling of safety, and she needed that sometimes.

Anna's own peculiar meekness was almost certainly part of the reason she let the lap-sitting thing go on, despite how bad it looked... but it wasn't just that. With anyone else she was sure she would overcome it and play the good mother, certainly before legs got touched, but because it was Jerry, there was still enough of a feeling of safety that she couldn't bring herself to make a huge scene about it. Cheryl was safe with her father... if it were anyone else, this kind of rubbing could only lead to hard core sexual molestation, rape even, the moment they were left alone and maybe not even needing that, maybe just needing a mother willing to watch a rape with a glare. Deep down, Anna didn't know for sure if she would be that mother or not, if such a time ever came... from a stranger, sure, she was confident she could intervene, but from a lover or husband, someone she depended on? She couldn't say for sure. She might just be the kind of mom who pouted and glared as her daughter's hymen got pierced by a trusted male friend or relative who kept pushing on her comfort zones. Easier to say no in advance, before it got that far, better to keep her and her daughters out of such situations in the first place, as she had with every other dangerous man she knew so far. Draw the lines early, glare at them if they even look at one of her girls too long, and you discourage them, whether they have innocent intentions or not, and not have to verbally forbid one from sitting in a lap and very probably confuse a little girl who saw nothing wrong with it. That's what she'd had to do with uncles and grandpas and even what she'd have had to do if she was married to any other man... fathers can be molesters too, if you tempt them enough, even if her own hadn't been. With Jerry... well, Anna knew that unless Cheryl stopped wearing panties or was confident enough to grab her own father's dick it was harmless sensuality that verged a little on the side of inappropriate rubbing. Sure, Anna probably still should say no but she didn't have to.

At the rate they were going, Cheryl would be eighteen before either of those things happened, so all that was at risk was some sticky messes on their clothes. Still, that didn't stop the worries, growing watching them in the reflection, that maybe she was wrong, that Cheryl would find that boldness, or Jerry was getting better at manipulations to push her that way. It might soon be the time for a firm no.

No, Anna finally decided again, because using that word on herself wasn't a problem, unless she was really horny. No, until she saw anything outright sexual between father and daughter, freaking out was liable to make Cheryl, in a few years, confuse the sensual bonding she craved for the sexual she shouldn't have. She trusted in Jerry, or at least in his inability to move things along whether he wanted it or not, and trusted in Cheryl's innocence to not know how close things were to getting worse, or much better, depending on your perspective.

She'd grow out of it. Polly, their older daughter, went through the same stage, never progressed beyond it and now felt too old to sit on her father's lap or for long goodnight kisses with tongues and was, she learned, in possession of a full hymen and who swore nobody had ever seen her vagina other than other girls, not even Daddy, and, moreover, that she had only seen two real penises in her life... one her cousin while bathing during a babysitting gig, and the other a boy at school who got pantsed. Neither of them got anywhere near her, and so she had exactly zero experience that crossed the line between sensual and sexual.

At least before tonight, a part of Anna whispered as she looked out the window again.

"You worry too much," Jerry said, leaving her wondering which daughter she was being reassured about.

She responded as though it was Polly. "I just think she's out awful late."

"Yes, but it's a charity event. She's out there doing good, watched by respectable people. I mean..." he paused, and Anna winced in annoyance, knowing what was coming. "It could be worse. She could be out with friends, getting drunk, or high."

'It could be worse' was practically Jerry's catch phrase. Any time something bad happened, he might rage for a moment, but finally say, "It could be worse," or "It could have been worse." The habit was cute at first but after years of marriage it always set her teeth on edge whenever she heard it, especially when he used on things that were pretty damn awful already, which he did a lot. Even when she delicately tried to get him to talk about his molestation experience (she occasionally did get into moods where she wanted him to get past it and the complexes it created because she wanted to be dominated, and initiating sex every time got extremely boring), Jerry just said, "It's in the past. It could have been worse... could have been a male relative."

She still didn't know the details of who had done the deed, but strongly suspected either an extremely opinionated aunt or the very sister who warned her not to send him home with blue balls. Both still visited a few times a year, and it always set her on edge. It was weird that she was more worried about him cheating with his own relatives than with him being alone with a beautiful college dropout day in and day out.

Jerry's stock phrase especially annoyed her in the last few years because, with her own tendency towards being a pushover, she relied on him to be the 'heavy' to their children, the one who said no when she couldn't, who disciplined them, but his anger didn't last long enough to enforce any long term punishment like a grounding. Too often he'd decide whatever offense caused it 'could have been worse.' But even when it wasn't about the kids, or he said it privately after he administered a punishment, the phrase got under Anna's skin because when he said it, he was almost always right, at least technically right, and yet that knowledge didn't make it better. She wasn't sure if it would have been worse if he was molested by a male relative, but of course it was better that their daughter was late coming home from a charity event than being out doing god-knows-what with kids her own age. That didn't make the knot in her stomach any looser, and being constantly told that her feelings were invalid because it could be worse aggravated her.

Anna was just about to say something along those lines, when she saw what she'd been hoping for, the headlights of a dark van driving down the street and slowing in front of their house. A sigh of relief escaped her as the side door slid open, and she recognized the dirty blonde chin-length bob cut hairstyle that her eldest daughter Polly usually wore. After a moment's glance in both directions, the girl stepped out, seemingly safe and sound. "It's her," Anna said, then her eyes widened when she turned back and noticed what her daughter was wearing, and followed the girl as she stumbled towards the driver-side window, stood on her tiptoes, and gave what looked like a kiss to the driver and what looked like a moon to anyone outside who was focusing on her ass. Where did she get that outfit?

The thought didn't quite leave her mind, but it did get pushed aside for a moment at another discovery, as the young girl turned towards the house and took a few uncertain steps on the driveway, as unsteady on her feet as somebody who expected to be walking on ice, but if it was cold enough for ice then hypothermia would be more of a concern right now, as barely-dressed as the girl was. "Oh my god," Anna said, watching as her daughter almost tripped over nothing at all, bent over to catch herself, took another wobbly step, and stopped again, then looked around uncertainly as though she was uncertain it was the right house at all. Anna rushed towards the door. "I think she's drunk, Jerry."

That got her husband to look up from his youngest daughter's legs, and stopped their game, although the way he stopped it looked like a promise of continuation. His hands grabbed Cheryl's pantied crotch, pulled upward with a firm squeeze, almost lifting her by her pussy and, if not sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into her hole, along with the stretchy cotton that just prevented them going deep enough to deflower her, at least giving her a serious enough dent to get her thinking about, maybe even desiring, actual penetration. That, Anna knew she'd have to say no to, but for now, a glare would have to do. Both ignored it... Cheryl whimpered but slid off of him as he stood up with an erection-tent visible enough that it would have gotten him banned from school events if they weren't at home. But by his demeanor, nothing unusual was happening. "It's a charity event, of course there was going to be alcohol. I bet she snuck a few sips for herself out of curiosity. But, see, there you go, it could be worse." Anna flinched. "At least someone dropped her off in our driveway. She could have tried to drive home drunk." That was more of a joke than anything else... sure, her driving home would certainly have been worse, but that was because Polly was not just too drunk to drive home safely but too young by several years to do so with a license at all. Her driving home drunk would have involved a preteen in a stolen car. In other circumstances, she might have laughed, but she was genuinely worried about their daughter.

Not just for the alcohol, either. When they let Polly go to this charity event, she was dressed like a kid, asexual jeans, a long rose-colored blouse, running shoes. None of that was in evidence now, nor was anything she could carry her old clothes in. Instead, all she wore was a dress that was practically obscene, and where 'practically' disappeared entirely the moment she bent over.

It resembled the classic French maid outfit, redesigned for a world where sexual harassment wasn't even given lip service and pedophiles did the hiring. Black, with white accents and trim, in two main pieces, a skirt with a mini-apron on the front, coming down to less than an inch below the crotch, and not covering it at all if it rode up, and a very skimpy crop top so short it practically looked very small sleeves attached to a strip of fabric between belly and breast, and a neckline plunging so far you could see her nipples just poking out over the top. If that didn't scream "preteen whore rape bait" enough, the look was accentuated with a collar, black with white lace frill, and dark stockings that coming up to just above the knee, which wouldn't have raised eyebrows on an adult, even with the high heels, but on a child seemed like was appealing to fetishes of perverted old rich men who liked young stuff.

When the door opened, Polly was standing, so Jerry didn't realize quite how obscene the dress got, or that there was no underwear underneath, but Anna thought surely he could see the pale nipples poking out over her neckline, and expected him to be livid, or at least act that way.

"Oh hi!" Polly said with a bright smile. "Glad you guys are still up. I was worried I'd have to wake you." She slurred her words, and she had a dazed look to her in her eyes, but at least she didn't look like she was about to throw up, which Anna knew Jerry would point out given half a chance.

"Jerry, get her some water." Then, since she didn't feel like she could trust him to do his appointed job of being the disciplinarian of the family, Anna steeled herself to play angry mom. It came out more like disappointed mom. "Young lady, we were worried sick. You should have been home hours ago!"

Polly wobbled in, her high heels drawing new attention to themselves with their clacking on the floor with every step. "Hey, don't blame me. You signed me up for the charity thing, and told me to do my best." When she reached the couch, she turned backwards and just fell into it beside her sister. Whether it was from her drunkenness or new experiences, she no longer sat legs together, like Anna had taken pains to teach her, trying to undo the habits she developed sitting on Daddy's lap. Instead, Polly's knees were spread as far as they could go. Her maid skirt still preserved her modesty but only barely and thanks to gravity making the hem settle between her spread legs. Her nipples actually slipped back under her neckline, which was some comfort. "Did you expect me to walk back from The Swamp on my own?"

"The Swamp?" Anna repeated. It was a seedy biker strip joint on the outskirts of town, a place with a bad reputation in a bad neighborhood. Anna had been there, worked there, technically, in search of a little wild adventure and to reconvince herself of her desirability after two children. She knew very well how bad the neighborhood was, long stretches of lonely road without working streetlights, frequented by drunks and lowlifes. Of course she didn't want her daughter walking back from that... but she didn't want her there in the first place. "What were you doing at the Swamp?!"

"The charity thing! Come on, you had to know where it was! It said so right on the flyer!"

"I'm sure it did not. Jerry, go find that flyer." He had only just returned with a large glass of water in his hand, gave it to his daughter and shot a look to her mother, but moved behind the couch and began searching among the papers there for the particular one that they had used to sign up their daughter for this night, thinking it was character building. "I would not have let you go to a seedy biker joint." Probably.

"Don't worry, Mom," Polly said. "There weren't any bikers there. Well, maybe a few mighta been bikers, but they were all wearing suits and donating money. The charity people just rented out the whole place." She took a big gulp of the water and sighed in relief. "Man, finally that helps get the taste out." Taste of what? Mom wondered. She hoped it was just alcohol, but that didn't seem likely from the Swamp, and a list of other, darker options started to run through her head.

"It is a nice venue for these types of things," Jerry said, still searching. "I was there for a conference of local business owners once. I promise you, it cleans up very nicely and meets all the fire codes. Honestly, there are much worse places it could have been held."

"Yeah," Polly said. "It was totally respectable-looking."

"You're not dressed very respectably."

"It was the uniform, Mom. All the girls wore it. You volunteered us as servers, remember? What did you think we wouldn't get a uniform?" No, she expected a uniform, but she expected perhaps a dress shirt and black pants. Maybe, if they were going for a theme, something like those old 50s diner waitresses. Even with short skirts she might not have raised an eyebrow at that, since at least it was cute. But slutty French maids was not a theme appropriate for preteens and young teens.

"Found it!" her father announced, holding up the flyer that got them all into this mess. He peered at it for a moment, then said, "Huh, I guess it did say it was at 'The Swamp' all along. I just misread it. Well, it could be worse, at least it was for a charity event."

"Uh-huh," Polly said. "And you'd be real proud of me. I'll have you know I won the prize!" There was something, Anna remembered, about a chance to win a free iPhone for the girl who raised the most money for charity.

"Where is it?" her little sister Cheryl asked. The outfit Polly wore didn't seem to have pockets, and so the only places she could be carrying it would probably void any warranty.

"We're supposed to go pick it up in a few days and sign a release form. We can pick up my old jeans and stuff too, I left them there."

"You should have worn them home. I can't believe you came home in... this." She waved her hand over her daughter's tarted-up body.

The girl pouted. "Mom, can't you just be happy that I raised more money than any other girl!"

"I had faith in you," Jerry said as he beamed, never one to pass up the chance to ingratiate himself to one of his daughters at her expense. "That's my girl!"

Anna was growing more and more suspicious, though. Something about this didn't smell right. Well, something besides the smell of alcohol coming off her daughter's breath, or the musky sexual scent that oozed out of other parts of her body and was starting to extend to the rest of the room. Jerry had to notice that... maybe Cheryl didn't know what it signified, but the adults should have.

The youngest girl was catching onto something though, and maybe she followed her nose to the discovery or maybe it was accidental, but Cheryl sat back on the floor in a position that let her peek under the skirt and then here mouth gaped open. "Holy shi...nolie, you're not wearing any panties, Polly!"

"Really?" Her father practically raced around the other side of the couch, dropping the flyer on the end table on his way, then crouched down beside Cheryl. The ten-year-old had scooted up for a better look herself, and now father and daughter crouched at the foot of the couch each holding a leg and helping spread it wider so they could both get a really close look, while Polly pulled up the skirt having apparently gotten over any shyness she might have had. The puffy pussy also looked like it had a wider, more sloppy mouth than it did when Anna did a virginity check, and though there was no phone up there, it was wide enough that there would be no hiding it.

"They gave you a uniform with no underwear? And you wore it like that?" Cheryl asked, wide-eyed. "That is so cool."

"No," Polly explained. "They let us wear our own underwear. At first. But they asked me to sell them for charity. You'd be surprised what people will pay for a pair of soaked underwear!"

"Why were they soaked?" Cheryl asked, and then grinned. "Did you pee your panties?"

"No, of course not! I just get really wet when I get turned on." To make it clearer, which she didn't have to do except maybe to her sister, or out of milking out the scene out of pride in her new discovery, she added, "Sexually."

Her little sister did indeed seem impressed by the clarification, and wanted to know, "Who turned you on?"

"At first, it wasn't a who, but they wanted us to help with the charity, and they had a machine they called the Swamp Hog."

"Oh no," Anna said, forgetting herself. She'd have preferred her family have no idea how well-acquainted she was with what went on at the Swamp, but... she remembered the Swamp Hog very well. It was a motorcycle, or at least the body of one, no wheels and a custom built seat that wasn't cushioned, in a prominent position on stage at one end of the club. When gassed up it was all vibration and noise and no motion, though it was rigged up so you had to hold onto the handlebars for it to work, and the way the seat was positioned that meant the vibration was concentrated right up against a girl's pussy.

The Swamp had a rule, every first time dancer had to ride the Swamp Hog wearing nothing more than a thong (they could go naked if they chose, of course) for either five minutes or through three orgasms, while men threw money to keep it going, all tips going to the house for the first ride. The stated theory was it weeded out the bashful and broke down inhibitions among the new girls. Once you've cum in front of a crowd, it's hard to be nervous about sensuously dancing around a pole and taking your clothes off. The real reason, she learned much later, was they hoped to get girls horny enough that they'd be more willing to do private dances and get fucked in those private dances on their first night. Once they've done THAT once, they're more likely to do it on subsequent occasions.

In Anna's case, the Swamp Hog achieved both of their aims. What did it get her daughter to do?

Polly didn't know anyone else knew what it was, because she explained, "Oh yeah. It's like one of those coin operated motorcycles at the mall, only this one shakes so good you lose your mind. They had this idea for the charity, each one of us got sponsors who pledged ten dollars for every minute we could ride on it without crying out or letting go."

"And you rode the longest?" Cheryl guessed.

"Oh no. I came last. I barely lasted a minute before my grip slipped... I just couldn't hold on anymore. I really really wanted another try... for charity... but they wouldn't let me. Rachel won with three minutes and she had six different sponsors. I only had two, so I was way behind. But I made it up, cause... well, most of us got wet panties out of riding the Swamp Hog, but mine got, like, really wet. Maybe it was just cause I was last and the others had some time to dry, but the emcee noticed and pointed it out to the crowd and suddenly there were offers to buy it off me. It got up to fifty dollars, can you believe it? So I sold it but only if the money went to the charity because I thought that's what you would have wanted me to do. You should have seen how everyone cheered when I bent down to pull it off, and the guy who bought it..." she started giggling, and continued, "he popped it in his mouth, sucked on it, and said it was juicy and delicious and worth every penny."

"You buy them for what, two for twenty dollars, honey?" Jerry asked, looking back up at her, ignoring her glare. "That means he bought forty dollars worth of juice. That must be one magic pussy." He turned back to stare at his daughter's hole again with unfatherly interest.

>>25447
Don't be sorry.At least we know you're working on it

"I don't like this," Anna said, sensing what could happen now that rules were shifting, even with Jerry's complex. "I don't like this at all." Yet, arousing memories of her own past misbehavior began flooding back, and old fantasies she never intended to see in action starting to become more and more plausible... all that did get her heart rate up and an excited electricity running under her skin, especially focused on her pussy. Which was also beginning to get wet... she and her daughter had that in common. "First she comes home drunk..."

"I know what you're thinking," Polly said. "And I'm sorry, but that really wasn't my idea. The bar was part of the charity. Every drink a guy bought for us added to our charity total, but we had to drink it for it to count. And some of the people who bid on my panties wanted me to get my juices on their handkerchiefs, and I thought it was only fair that they buy me a charity drink for the chance to do that."

"See?" Anna said. "These men get her drunk, they get her pussy drooling..." 'What else do you think they've done?' went unsaid.

"I'm sure it wasn't deliberate. It's not like our daughter's a slut, she just had a natural bodily reaction to vibration and stimulation. Would you rather she be dry when she was turned on?" Jerry asked. "I mean come on." And he stared back into his daughter's pussy, noticing that it did look pretty wet, and calmly inserted two fingers inside. Now that Polly wore nothing over them and her skirt was pulled up, Jerry's peculiar inhibitions didn't protect her anymore. Doing anything to move clothes out of the way may have been fundamentally inappropriate in his mind, but they were no longer in the way, and that left him free to explore. "Yup, her story checks out, she's very wet!" The fingers sank all the way in to the last knuckles, came back out glistening wet, and then went back in.

Most impressively, and worryingly, everyone could see there was no resistance to that intrusion. Polly herself tensed just for a moment at the penetration, but then relaxed and let it happen as a milky froth started spilling out around her father's fingers and no sign of blood from a hymen that must have been absent by now. "Oh, wow, Daddy. You probably shouldn't be finger-fucking me like this, though, no matter how good it feels." Other than those words, far more vulgar than her daughter would usually get with her parents, the girl didn't make a move to stop it. Neither did anybody else, fascinated by the father-daughter molestation going on. "No, seriously, Daddy," she finally said after what felt like another full another minute of silent finger fucking while her father shifted position and tugged at his pants. Not to pull them off, he still couldn't make that leap, there were people in the room who weren't fully naked, but he needed to adjust the bulge. Not realizing that, Polly went on needlessly, "You can't have sex with me. I mean, I don't want to hurt your feelings, it's not because I don't want it. I've dreamed of it for years. But I can't let it happen. And I'm afraid if you keep doing that with your finger, especially when I've been drinking, I might let you fuck me anyway, which would be really bad cause you might get me pregnant and I can't let you get me pregnant." It could be worse, ran through Anna's mind again. At least she wasn't that far gone. Her husband seemed to be, because he didn't stop, fascinated by the way his finger slid into his daughter, the way it squeezed around him despite what she said. "Mom, a little help?"

"Just put some damn panties on," Anna snapped. "They're like a magic stop sign for your father. If you'd kept them on in the first place, he never would have gotten so bold with your pussy." Anna realized too late she was giving a crucial piece of the puzzle away to another daughter who seemed to have less wits about her despite being less distracted.

Indeed, she saw Cheryl's eyes widen as she looked back, making the connection. The little girl stood briefly, just long enough to pull her underwear down beneath her skirt, remove them, and then got on her knees again. "Here, you can use mine." Anna wasn't sure if she was making the offer of panties to her sister or pussy to her daddy.

One offer wasn't accepted. Or, perhaps, both were half-accepted. Polly took the panties from her sister, but let them drop to the couch over the temporarily forgotten tablet, still paused on some video with a cartoon character in an expression of shock, and when Cheryl bent over and wiggled her uncovered ass in her father's face, he took his other hand and rubbed those fingers across her slit, threatening to remove Cheryl's hymen as soon as he got up the nerve to fully penetrate.

He didn't stop the slow saw into Polly's sloppy cunt either, which meant Anna was watching her husband's fingers molest both of her daughters at once. At least they didn't know they had to get all the way naked, or take their father's cock out themselves, for him to actually fuck them, Anna thought. So it could be worse. Damn it, now he's got me doing it. And I really should tell him to stop.

"Hey, I'm not a monster here," Jerry said as he continued the two-handed molestation while Anna just stood there trying to say no. "I'm not having sex with either of you. You'd have to get naked to have sex, and I'm not planning on doing that." That was a hint, Anna knew, the most blatant he was capable of, but it didn't seem like the girls picked up on it, so he was shit out of luck. "All I'm doing is checking on your vaginal function, but if you really want me take my finger out, Polly, I will."

"No," the girl said, relaxing with her father's reassurance. "Check all you want. Though I am a bit tender so I'd appreciate it a lot more if you'd check with a tongue and soft kisses instead."

"It does deserve a lot of kisses if you earned the most for charity by soaking your panties and handkerchiefs." He pulled his fingers out then leaned forward and placed a kiss on each side of the slit. That was definitely out of bounds, and Anna resolved to say something if it didn't stop soon.

"You can use fingers on me Daddy," suggested Cheryl. "I'm not tender at all."

"You will be if he starts," Polly warned.

Finally, Anna felt able to speak, but not to say no, only to point out, "Clearly Polly must have done a lot more than sell her panties. Or did you not notice the lack of blood?"

"Blood?" Cheryl yelped, flinching a moment from her father's touch, but the pleasure of the rubbing was enough that after that instinctive reaction she very consciously pressed back into his fingers. Still, she wanted to know, "Why would there be blood?"

Polly leaned forward, and spread her puffy vulva, revealing a pink hole, and explained to her little sister like an expert, "It bleeds the first time something goes in. It doesn't hurt much, or for long. Especially if you get an orgasm out of it."

Cheryl squeezed her own puffy lips around her father's finger, not yet inserted but just wiggling lengthwise. "I'd love an orgasm but I don't want any blood."

"He could stick it in your butt. You can still orgasm that way, it just takes longer, and no blood."

Not always true, Anna knew, but as she watched her younger daughter spread her butt at her big sister's suggestion, and her husband looking between each of them offering a spread hole, she was thankful he was only contemplating his fingers. So yes, it could be worse. She didn't have to say no just yet. A good ass fingering wasn't going to hurt Cheryl, and as for Polly... well, even if she'd lost her virginity and gotten used to cock, and she might be a little bit drunk, but at least she was appropriately concerned about getting pregnant. There was some hope for her at least, but Anna still craved to know everything that happened at the charity event, and she sensed that her daughter wanted to brag about an intense and outrageous experience. Which also could be worse... the girl could clam up and decide never to tell a soul, let it be a dirty private memory. From personal experience, all it might take was a few hours and a sober mind to change from one mindset to the other.

So, she made a decision, and knew most people would think it was the wrong decision for any mother but the logic of it seemed to make sense to her in that moment. Anna decided she'd make her daughter comfortable enough to tell the story, then, tomorrow, rain holy hell down on this so-called charity, lay down the law with Jerry (yelling at him afterwards was always easier than forbidding in the moment), and maybe come up with an appropriate punishment for her daughter. And, if she were to be honest with herself, enjoy a couple orgasms to the thought of whatever intense sexual awakening her daughter had experienced, the kind she only dreamed about. Maybe she'd get those orgasms by helping her husband with the blue balls that should inevitably result from this night, maybe by masturbating to the mental pictures in bed after he went to sleep. Probably both, if she were to be honest with herself. And maybe in the shower for the next few weeks.

Anna's own sexual awakening, with an older married neighbor who took a lot of liberties she couldn't bring herself to say no to, now seemed practically tame by comparison. After the first few exciting times he got soft... not his dick, but his heart, instead of boldly ordering her to do things that would have gotten him arrested if she decided to tell anyone, which was bizarre and scary and thrilling, he mostly treated her like a illicit fourteen-year-old lover... which was nice, she supposed. That lasted until he was arrested... for embezzling from his company, nothing to do with her, she kept the secret. She didn't miss him, much, by the time he went to jail she realized that she didn't want him as a romantic lover, and wasn't quite getting what she did want. Back then, she couldn't articulate what that was (she had the vague notion that it involved someone, maybe her father, walking in on her naked and giving a blow job and joining in without asking for permission). Now she had a sense that Polly might have experienced something very similar to her ideal and... well, she'd hardly be the first mother to want to live vicariously through her daughter's experiences.

"Now, now," Jerry said. He sucked his youngest daughter's pussy juices off his finger and once it was slicker with saliva, began to press gently on Cheryl's ten-year-old asshole. Everyone watched it slide slowly but steadily deeper, calmly except the one getting penetrated, and she was at least trying her best to pretend it wasn't a big deal while her father continued, "You don't know she did anything inappropriate at the charity. Girls can lose their hymen in all sorts of ways."

"Nothing inappropriate?" Anna's exasperation at Jerry was making it hard to play cool and let Polly tell her story at her own pace. "Riding a vibrator toy, having an orgasm in front of a crowd, and selling her panties and handkerchief rubs against her pussy doesn't count as inappropriate?"

"It was just for charity, honey. People do all sorts of stuff for charity. Remember back when we were in school we had that slave-for-a-day auction?" To even suggest that was innocent proved that he still didn't know what happened back then, as a one-day slave of the school's resident bad boy. Then again, not many did, except for some of his friends, and the auto shop teacher, since a lot of it took place in his class.

Fuck it, she decided. It was more than a decade ago, and maybe being open would keep Polly in the same spirit. "You know I came out of that with a load in my pussy and worrying how I'd explain being pregnant to my boyfriend when we hadn't even done it yet." And her first lesbian experience with one of the few girls in the class, but the pregnancy scare was more important considering the boyfriend in question was Jerry. This was before his sister had explained about his little problem, and she was terrified he wouldn't understand that she had to because she was slave-for-a-day, but luckily the pregnancy didn't wind up happening and Jerry either hadn't heard or had dismissed all the rumors. But she couldn't afford to allow him a head-in-the-sand approach any longer. "There's no way she won the prize just by selling her panties and accepting a few drinks. I mean, do the math."

"I hate math," Cheryl said, even though she seemed be doing so well with a single digit.

Anna ignored her. "But go on, if you think our daughter's missing hymen is so innocent, give it another kiss. She's dressed like a French maid, so you might as well make it a French kiss..." At his widened eyes, she added a cruel smirk, and finished, "But don't say I didn't warn you if you get some sperm swimming their way down your tongue."

The girls had both been watching this little discussion, mostly without talking aside from Cheryl's most recent outburst, their eyes going back and forth like it was a tennis match. Jerry made a face at Anna's last serve, looked with disgust at the fingers he'd had inside his eldest, and she knew she'd scored a point. It was another of Jerry's little idiosyncrasies, probably not that uncommon... he just hated the thought of drinking cum, or touching a cum-filled pussy. What was weird is that it didn't seem to stem from jealousy... they'd once discussed a threesome trade to spice up their marriage, one time with two girls and, to be fair, one time with two guys, and he was all for that suggestion, but he insisted in the latter case that he had to finish first. Her second pregnancy put a pin in that idea, and they never got back to it.

Polly lay back with a waiting look, like she wasn't going to volunteer anything, though with a blush on her face that suggested she was afraid they were going to ask. Jerry did ask, but not the right daughter. "Cheryl, would you do me a favor and stick your tongue up your sister's pussy and tell me if it tastes like cum?"

The finger deep in her asshole guided her, shuffling around on her knees, to the position where that was easiest, and also put the girl into a compliant mood, because she said, "Okay," and pressed her lips up against her sister's hole like it was second nature. After a good twenty seconds of sucking, during which Anna got to watch Jerry's smug face at having won a point and they both got to enjoy their Polly's gasps of surprised pleasure, the younger girl pulled away and asked, "What does cum in a pussy taste like?"

"Like you just tasted," Polly said, then up to her parents. "You could have just asked me. I wasn't going to lie. Ah!" The last was another surprised gasp as Cheryl, who must have decided she liked the taste, dove back in for more. Polly got used to the sensation enough that she could talk while it was going on, and looked back up into the eyes of her parents. "I just really wanted to win the prize for earning the most for charity."

Jerry wiped his fingers on his pants furiously, trying to get any trace of cum off, then took a big sip of his daughter's water just in case he tasted any with his kiss and spit it back out again... a little funny, from Anna's perspective, because he didn't have a problem until it was brought up, and it wasn't the first time he'd touched or tasted it without realizing it. "I suppose we can take some comfort in the fact that it was for a good cause, instead of just giving in to sinful urges."

Polly went on, "And really, I thought you wanted me to do it, or at least knew about it and were okay with it. I mean, they showed me the flyer and the form you signed."

Anna didn't have the form, that rested with whoever ran the charity, claimed when they picked Polly up. She didn't even remember it much other than thinking that it was a lot less paranoid than the summer camp her cousin kept suggesting for Polly and Cheryl. That, too, was for charity and completely free, but she was warned that there was a lot of last minute paperwork and she should just sign them all quickly, though because summer was still a ways away, the initial application forms were still in a drawer. With tonight's events, and only a few days between getting the opportunity and having to sign the forms, she had followed the same advice, giving it only a courtesy skim... nothing seemed out of place, but they were all couched in legalese. They didn't leave her a copy and so she couldn't go over it again and look at what she may have accidentally agreed to.

The flyer, though, was right where Jerry left it on the table, and now Anna picked it up and looked at it with the kind of fresher, less innocent eyes you get (or get again, having suppressed for years) after seeing your youngest daughter trying her damndest to suck all the cum out of her big sister while her daddy fingers her butthole.

The first few words should have been a warning sign alone: "We Want Your Kids (Girls Ages 11-16)" and everything else got worse if you knew a few things and were reading it with a dirty mind. It really was all there:


"We Want Your Kids (Girls Ages 11-16)
to serve us at our
Charity Ball-Drain
The Swamp
- GALA EVENT, CHARITY 9-HOLES, AUCTION"

Now that she knew "The Swamp" referred to the location, "Drain The Swamp" obviously wasn't the theme of the charity ball with some odd formatting. Instead, the theme of the night was clearly laid out. It was a "Charity Ball-Drain." And clearly, at least one drained their balls in little Polly. Probably more.

Underneath, in a smaller font, it provided a list that had seemed a lot more compelling at the time:

"We Will Provide:
Transportation (We'll Take Them Both Ways)
A Full Belly
Fun Uniform They Can Keep
Stimulating Environment
First Hand Job Experience
Opportunities to work under powerful men and women
iPhone to the Girl Who Earns the Most for Charity
Memories That Will Last a Lifetime"

"So this was a Charity Ball-Drain all along," Anna said aloud. "And they tricked you into thinking we wanted this for you."

"I don't know, honestly I kinda didn't think you did but I guess I kinda hoped?"

"You have to admit, they were pretty clever," Jerry said.

"Yes, evil perverts can be very clever. That doesn't mean they're not evil."

Cheryl drew her mouth away from her sister. "I want to hear what happened. At least how she got cum in her cunt."

The C-word was testing her boundaries, a little girl deciding that, since her father was fingering her ass and she was performing oral sex on her sister, maybe she could say 'cunt.' Anna knew if she didn't correct her, it would be used to exhaustion. Yet she couldn't bring herself to, especially because she wanted to hear from Polly too. So she just shot her eldest a questioning look.

She beamed and began telling the story. "Well, after we had a few drinks, they took us to the 9-Holes."

That was another piece of the puzzle, and another piece of the Swamp's dubious reputation. The 9-Holes were physical holes punched into the wall separating the girl's bathroom and a hallway to the back exit. The hallway was used by customers who needed to take a break from the drinking, maybe to throw up or piss or have a smoke, the first not allowed indoors by the owner's rules, the last by county by-laws. The middle, that was okay as long as it was in a proper place, but nobody liked using the men's bathroom which was a constant mess. The girl's bathroom, on the other hand, was mostly clean, and mostly used by strippers and waitresses, and nobody in either of those groups could afford to be offended if one of those customers, or one of the male managers, maybe even the big boss, stuck their hard dick through one of the holes and asked for a little relief of one sort or another, or if they threatened to pee on anyone who didn't swallow it down, for the girls cleaned their own bathroom. It started with just one hole, supposedly accidental, and the shenanigans around it a running joke that got so popular more holes were added.

Before long there were nine holes and it was a full-fledged Swamp attraction, and access to the hallway charged for, a charge grumbled at when it started but still paid willingly by anyone who wanted a blowjob, or something else. Nothing guaranteed, the fee was too small for that, but they could negotiate terms with whoever was on the other side of the hole, which made some good supplemental income for dancers or waitresses, and some men gambled on being able to talk a girl into providing mercy without any additional payment for a customer worked up by a sexy dance. And sometimes people still brazened through for some free play to avoid the threat of a spray of urine or a firing, since many of the regulars had developed a good imitation of the owner's distinctive southern voice and this was all done with the men able to maintain their anonymity behind the wall. The women, not so much, hard to stay anonymous there, as customers could easily keep track of who went into the washroom and, for that matter, could always peek at the girls through the holes, or slip the bartender a few bucks to peek at the feed from the cameras that were, very early on, positioned in the bathroom ceiling, in defiance of every rule for bathrooms Anna knew about. The cops never enforced that by-law, probably because some of them were among the people who enjoyed using it or buying a copy of a particularly good video after the fact. 9-Holes glory hole videos sold pretty well, though few sold to anyone outside of the user of the hole in question... men just got a kick of a woman worshiping their dick without knowing who it belonged to, and sometimes you just want a momento of an experience you could never manage without anonymity... especially for those regulars who had daughters who worked there. Spilling the beans mid-fuck with a fatherly term of endearment made for a good video that sometimes sold well to outsiders, but most men preferred the women never to know for sure. Though the bar was in a bad neighborhood, it got respectable visitors slumming, and events like the Chamber of Commerce meeting, men who had something to lose if a whore knew who they were with. The most long-running joke was that married men visiting the Swamp could just say they were enjoying "9-Holes" and leave the wife to assume it was golf, when really they were getting their rocks off at a glory hole.

Anna was probably one of the few wives who had been on the other side of that wall that could be confident that if her husband said he just came back from doing 9-Holes he meant golf. And now she may be one of the few women who'd served at the same hole as her own daughter. She thought she had at least a few years before that became a possibility... she'd certainly never heard of them doing anything with girls Polly's age before. Sure, when she had her own adventure there, they had at least two strippers who were rumored to be under age fifteen, but she never saw any proof and those girls were at least well into a generous puberty, so at the time she dismissed them as merely salacious rumors... but after what she'd heard about tonight's activities, it no longer surprised her. Or, to her surprise, bothered her that much. There was no blinding fury as she would have expected from such a discovery... she was annoyed at them taking advantage of her daughter in particular, but she still felt composed enough to note, with a touch of dry humor, "I suppose this is where they gave you the first hand job experience they promised in their flyer. I wondered about that."

Jerry took another opportunity to score points in front of their daughters. "Anna! I'm shocked. Shocked that you knew about this in advance."

She threw him a withering glare. Now THAT made her mad. How dare he try to make her out as the bad guy while he was giving their ten-year-old daughter an anal fingerbang? And the fact that she clearly enjoyed it so much was going to make her more likely to believe him, too. Still, she had to set the record straight. "Don't be stupid, Jerry. I noticed they put the space in the middle of firsthand, but I assumed it was just a typo. Obviously if they promised first blowjob experience I'd have been a little more hesitant sending my daughter with them." Ideally that should be had at home, an intrusive thought whispered.

It was like Cheryl read her mind. She pulled her mouth free of Polly's pussy. She whined, punctuated by breaths as her father's fingers brought her closer to an anal orgasm, "Daddy, can you give me my first blowjob experience?"

"No honey," he said. "My pants are still on and it would be inappropriate for me to take them off, and I wouldn't want to do anything inappropriate." That was about as close as he would come to begging someone to take his cock out so that he could consider himself blameless, just swept up in a perverted situation rather than being perverted himself. It was a weird distinction, especially as he bent down and took a very inappropriate look at just below where his finger was inappropriately pumping his youngest daughter's asshole, then took an even more inappropriate lick on her pussy which got Cheryl writhing and craving her father's cock even more.

"Besides, you already had your first blowjob experience. Many."

Everyone stopped at Polly's words. Jerry looked up at his youngest and even his finger slowed enough for Cheryl to get angry. "Tattletale," she snapped. "That's it, I'm not sucking your cunt anymore." Instead, she looked back at her parents, and explained, "Anyway, it's not really a blowjob unless there's cum, everyone knows that, and Tommy can't cum yet."

Tommy was their cousin on Anna's side, the same age as Cheryl, and Anna knew that while her daughter said she saw her cousin's penis once, she neglected to mention that Cheryl was sucking it at the time. "She's right, Polly, it's a totally different experience," Jerry said, went back to fingering. "And Cheryl, don't be mean to your sister, she didn't mean to tattle, it's all that alcohol. Go back to sucking all that nasty cum out of her cunt." She did, and Jerry shot an apologetic look at his wife.

For a moment it looked like he was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "I know," she said. "It could be worse. Except it is, with Polly, isn't it? How many blowjobs, with cum, did you have at the 9-Holes?"

She smiled brightly, whether at the resumed cunt-sucking or the knowledge that she was getting away with being completely honest and with no sign of the punishment she must have been dreading when she first came home... indeed, she seemed to be getting rewarded for her slutty adventure. "Honestly, I lost count. And that wasn't where I got my first hand job experience either, that was before, with one of the guys who bought me a drink. It only seemed fair, and he was excited about getting his juices and mine on the same napkin. But at the 9-Holes, they said they'd donate fifty dollars in our name for every cock or pussy we drain."

"Wait a second, pussy?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, some women shoved their pussies up into the holes too. Not many, but a few."

"How exactly do you drain a pussy?" Cheryl asked, looking at her sister's which still seemed gooey despite her best efforts. "Do they squirt too?"

"No," Polly said, and Anna made a note that she'd have to correct her later. If her daughter must be a bisexual slut, she should at least be a well-informed one. "But they do pee."

"You drank pee?!" At least some things were capable of scandalizing the ten-year-old girl who'd already sucked cock, albeit preteen cousin cock.

"I guess the bladder's a kind of ball, so draining it counted. Guys did it too."

"Tommy peed in my mouth once, I didn't like it." Cheryl frowned at the memory. "I thought he was cumming."

"Yeah, cum is better. Pee's faster though, at least for guys. I mean, the women, they usually needed to be licked a while before they let fly, and it gets all over your face and you taste it more. I liked it with guys much more."

Jerry turned to his wife and said, "Hey, at least we know she's not a lesbian."

Polly went on, "At least with a guy, they usually want to cum or pee but not both and if they pee, you just keep swallowing, and boom, fifty more bucks for charity and can move on to the next. But after a few, I didn't really think I could swallow any more, and that's when I heard Jill squealing in joy. She wasn't using her mouth and I also noticed the lube dispenser by the holes and, well, she seemed to be going through guys a lot faster and having a lot more fun, so I thought, what the hell. I let a few fuck my ass, and some piss in my ass too, and wow that was really good when you rubbed your clit at the same time." Cheryl took the advice and started rubbing her own clit and probably trying to imagine the finger in her ass was a cock, maybe Tommy's tiny cock since it couldn't cum, but it could still feel good. "I'd tell you what happened next, but I actually do really need to pee now myself."

"Help your sister out, Cheryl. I want to hear the rest of this, and it's better than her going all over the couch." Anna couldn't believe she just said that. But she had... okay, she had her weird kinks too, and one of them was pee-play... not receiving, so much, though her neighbor did that to her, and the shop class slave-for-a-day incident she did that for one of the butch girls in the class at her master's direction, and Anna wouldn't deny being used as a human urinal had occasional appeal, sure... but what she really always wanted was the other way, someone who'd drink from her whenever she felt the need. Jerry was too much of a squeamish pussy to do that, and even though Anna now had one daughter with experience in that, wouldn't two be better?

"How?" Cheryl asked, but her sister was already pointing.

"Just suck right there and get ready to swallow."

Anna knelt down to watch... she'd been standing almost rock still since picking up the flyer, and movement revealed just how weak and unsteady her legs are, and how hot her pussy was. She was the only one in the room who hadn't done anything sexual yet, aside from squeezes of her pussy muscles, but bending down and watching her ten-year-old drink pee from her older sister, she had to, taking advantage of the distraction and her hand already between her legs in a partial crouch, one hand worked its way under her skirt and began rubbing, over her panties.

She looked over as she scratched her itch, noticed her husband noticing her, but her two girls were off in their own little world. Polly was peeing, eyes closed, mouth open, and Cheryl had the most determined look on her face while she drank it down trying not to think about her daddy's finger work, or the tongue that was again tickling her pussy. Anna thought she recognized that feeling, the one where you know that if you relax a little you'll fall entirely over the edge and lose all control.

Cheryl's resolve ran out before Polly's bladder did, but only just. Her lips broke contact and let go in a cry as her body shook with orgasmic pleasure and her lips and chin trembled while getting splattered with the last dribbles from her sister's pussy. She didn't care at that point, her face drenched in the feel, smell, and taste of female urine at the point of what may have been her first orgasm may have even locked in Cheryl for a weird kink of her own, a very helpful one from Anna's perspective. Yup, as kinks go, it definitely could be worse.

"Ahh, I really needed that," Polly said, as though she was the one who orgasmed. "Where were we?"

"You were talking about getting ass-fucked at the glory hole for charity," Anna filled in, pulling her hand away from her pussy and hoping none of them noticed. "But we still hadn't gotten to how you lost your hymen or got a load in your pussy."

"Oh, well, that was an accident, the first time," Polly explained. By this time, her little sister had regained her breath and, Anna noted with pleasure, began eagerly licking up some of the urine around Polly's now glistening pussy. "I was going to let him go in my ass, but I guess I was a bit drunk... they offered me free drinks to get the piss taste out, and I'm pretty sure the piss was alcoholic too so things were getting pretty blurry. I do remember the moment I realized I fucked up and pushed it in my pussy instead of my ass though, since it hurt. But I had a job to do and pretty soon it felt good and I had an orgasm again, and, you know what, the second one was even easier and it gave my ass a break. I probably shouldn't have done that, though."

"It's okay, Polly," Anna said with a sigh. "At this point I think we've all done things we shouldn't have."

She was content to leave it ambiguous, but her husband had to be an asshole. "Yes, your mother for example has been masturbating to this. Quite inappropriate, if you ask me."

The girls looked back at her, and Anna blushed, shot a glare at her husband, and, fumbling for an explanation, said, "I was merely scratching."

Polly didn't buy a minute of it, stared at her legs as though expecting to see pussy juice running down them, and reacted almost as though she did. "Oh, wow, cool, Mom! I knew this might turn on Dad but I totally thought you were going to blow."

"I know what it's like to be plied with alcohol. You're right, you shouldn't have had sex with them, but I assure you, we blame the men far more than you."

"Good to know. Except... that's not what I meant. I mean I shouldn't have done that because I kinda messed up the charity auction."

Anna could see where this was going, if not completely where it would end. "They were all keen on auctioning off your virginity, huh?" Now she wanted to masturbate again, but her daughters weren't distracted and she couldn't seem to do it with them watching no matter how much she wanted to.

Polly seemed cheered up by her mother guessing what had happened. "Yup. Except, by the end of the 9-Holes, only one of the girls was still a virgin. Three weren't virgins when we started, though. Those sluts."

That amused her, and she quirked a smile. "You're one to talk, dear."

"Yeah, Mom, but I did it all for charity, they just did it for their boyfriends."

She waved a hand airily in her daughter's direction, dressed like a slut and with her little sister's face dripping her own urine into her recently-fucked pussy. "Still, let's not throw stones when we're living in glass houses."

"Fine. But you know I wouldn't have done any of this if it wasn't for charity, right? I mean, I was pure and I gave that up and I'm not gonna stop having sex anytime soon so I guess I'm a slut too now, but you know at least I didn't do it for selfish reasons right?"

Whatever you need to tell yourself, Anna thought, but instead said, "Of course dear. We're not mad at you."

"Okay, I hope that stays true because... here's the part you're really not going to like." Everyone waited with bated breath for Polly's next revelation. "Since I didn't have a virginity to offer up for the big auction, I had to promise something else."

"We won't be mad. A promise is a promise, honey," her father said, wiping the finger he finally took out of his daughter's asshole. "I assure you, whatever you promised, we'll abide by." Anna shot him a look, angry at the blank check to perversity he was basically giving her. She could even make up something... it didn't seem likely with how open she'd been, but it was possible.

"Okay, so... since the other non-virgin girls were doing it, and I really wanted that iPhone, I kind of auctioned off the right to knock me up."

Cheryl said, "Oh wow."

Jerry said, "To who?"

Anna said, "On what terms?"

Though they all said it at the same time, and Polly answered her mother first. "He's going to be able to have sex with me whenever he wants until I'm at least six months pregnant, and I can't have an abortion and he gets to try again if I don't give birth. And nobody else is allowed to fuck me until then... sorry Daddy." She looked genuinely sorry, but it was probably as much for herself as for her Daddy, who still was clinging to the ridiculous fiction that he would not do anything inappropriate as long as he had his pants on. "I'm not allowed to wear panties around the house and he can stop by and fuck me anytime he wants, even in the middle of dinner. But not in school or anywhere else, just here, his house, and the Swamp if I ever go back there."

"I guess that's some consolation," Jerry said.

It got worse. "He's not going to raise the baby, either, or be on the birth certificate, I have to do that on my own, except I hope you'll help me?" Her words were leading, but her eyes were pleading, wide, terrified, brimming with tears at the possibility.

"Of course we will honey, I promised," Jerry said. "Who are we going to have to be opening our door to and watch fucking you on the dinner table, though? Do you know his name?"

"It was that Judge guy, on the TV, the one who's running for congress. He bid a thousand dollars."

"It could be worse," Jerry said, looking at his wife, who thought that was awful cheap for a preteen whore a man could use whenever he wanted and knock up. She'd been offered more for less, including a tempting offer of $1500 from a man simply to cum on the face of one of her little girls while Anna jerked him off. "Even if we have to raise his baby on our own, if we treat him well and don't give him any trouble, he might throw some opportunities our way. I'm sure a man like that will want to open a lot of doors for a family raising his son or daughter."

"That's not all of it though," Polly said. "The bids weren't going too high, so I made another promise. This one involves Cheryl?"

The little girl smiled. "Me? I get to be knocked up too?"

"No. I tried, but they wouldn't let me, said you'd be old enough for next year's gala and it wouldn't be fair to you. But the judge had another idea, he bid the thousand dollars for me, and promised an extra thousand dollars if I swore I could get you to serve his dog. He'll take it slow but if you aren't ready to take a mounting in six months on video then we're responsible for paying that back."

"Oh." Cheryl considered it and the now only dimly-remembered feeling of the orgasm that had recently rocked through her at doing the most degrading thing, and considered whether one more degrading thing was too much or a chance at more fun. "I can do that, I guess. But I'm probably going to need someone to take my cherry first." She looked back to her father.

"I can use my finger, I guess," Jerry said.

The pout on her daughter's face finally broke Anna. The family was losing all their secrets anyway, and quite a few of their inhibitions. "If you want your father to fuck you, Cheryl, you just have to be alone in a room with him, take off all your clothes and ask him. And that goes for you too, Polly, the other way. Your father will not have sex with you as long as his pants are on, and he won't take them off unless you're completely naked."

"Wow. I wish you'd told us that earlier," Polly said, and then dropped another bombshell. "Maybe I'd have skipped the charity to just stay home with Dad. We'd owe so much less money that way."

"What money?" The only money they should owe is a thousand, but only if Cheryl failed to take a dog cock, and Anna had already been visualizing how to make that happen. Maybe another thousand if Polly let herself get fucked by someone other than the judge who paid for her. But they didn't owe that money yet.

"Oh, right. Ummm... remember, you promised you wouldn't be mad? See... one of the first parts of the auction? They sold off the video rights for each girl from the 9-Holes, to be destroyed or spread around as the owner saw fit. I didn't even know they were filming, and, like, I thought maybe if I bought them myself and asked for them to be destroyed you'd never know all the stuff I did. I had no idea you'd all be so cool about it. Anyway, I pledged ten thousand dollars. But we have until next year to pay, so, it's only $833 and thirty three cents a month." Polly wasn't quite as down on math as her sister, apparently. "I'm sure it's not that much if you think of it like that."

"Polly! What were you thinking?" Anna shouted, but then remembered her promise and forced herself to calm down. "We can't afford another eight hundred a month... especially on top of paying for another child!" Even with her promise, she couldn't help being mad, but was surprised at how mild the anger it was, more at the money than the bad decision. And she wasn't even sure she should be angry about the money. After all, she still planned on turning the cops onto this sick scam. At least, she was 75% sure she was going to. Things had changed, a little... not just her perverted fantasies coming true... okay, sure, that was part of it, but there was a practical concern too. If a judge running for congress was involved in this mess, who knew who else the perverts had in their pocket? Maybe people who could make any accusation go very bad for the accusers. Crooked cops who could make snitches go away, for good. She'd seen plenty of cops on the take when she worked at the Swamp, so they could be involved. Still she was 50% sure she was going to turn them in tomorrow. Though, if you're only 50-50 on something, it seemed to her that the best idea was to wait a little and see if she got less sure or more sure after letting the Judge into their home for a few days... probably less sure, but who could be sure, with that much money on the line? Though, in truth, even owing that much money to perverts... it did provide a good excuse to do things she normally wouldn't.

Her daughter cringed at her initial burst of anger but afterwards only seemed a little sorry. "Yeah I probably should have thought through selling knock-me-up rights more. But I really wanted to win that phone and I was still a little short. If it helps, you don't have to pay me an allowance."

"You still have to pay me my allowance," Cheryl said. "I think I might even be due a raise, if I'm going to be having sex with dogs."

"Not dogs," Polly clarified. "One dog. Probably."

"I'm sure we can make it work," Jerry said. "If we have to. I can pull a little more time in at work. Maybe you could go back to selling homemade pies like you did when money was tight after Cheryl was born."

"I wasn't selling pies, Jerry," she said, with a roll of her eyes, although she now believed he knew. She always thought he was a little dim before for not noticing that she never seemed to need any baking supplies and yet always came home with money for selling her pie at The Swamp... now she figured he probably knew all along that he was briefly married to a part-time stripper, part-time whore. There was a certain spark in his eyes as he made the suggestion now, so she decided to make him confront it, even if that meant exposing it for the kids. "I was prostituting myself. But I could go back to that and make the money we need before the end of the year."

Sure enough, the revelation didn't seem to provoke and dramatic surprise or outrage from her husband, merely a passive disappointment that might well have been faked. The kids, they exchanged surprised look as though each wondered if the other already knew this, but Jerry, he just said, "If that's what you think you need to do. It's a sad thing, but... it--"

She cut him off. "Don't say it, Jerry, because it is about to get worse. If I'm going to whore myself out, I'm taking Cheryl with me." The little girls, their minds freshly blown by the revelation that their Mom was once a whore, practically goggled at this new bit of news. Anna justified herself for their benefit. "Polly might be safe around you as long as her womb is promised to the judge, but you know as well as I do that the moment I'm out the door this little girl will be stripping down so she can ride on Daddy's cock." Cheryl gave a pout, but Anna went on, "No, I'll let your father take your cherry if it means that much to you, but I'm not raising two baby grandchildren at the same time, and one of them an incestuous one, and I just don't trust either of you to take the proper precautions, so I'm not leaving you alone. Besides, a lot of guys will pay extra for a little girl to watch while they fuck her mother. That was a big request back when Polly was just four. It's why I got out of the business, I was starting to consider it." Mostly got out of the business, but even the few times she'd indulged since hadn't stopped the offers. Offers that now she could indulge, the girls were old enough, and corrupted enough, that giving in would only be a little wrong, by her book, and that little wrong was outweighed by the extreme amount of hotness it would be to watch, participate in and profit by. Finally, something inside her broke and Anna went ahead and lifted one leg to put it up on the armrest of the couch, then brazenly rubbed her crotch through her skirt... the more she thought about this plan the more she needed to do something, and at least it was still less than anyone else in the family did. She even told herself that she needed to join the depravity or they'd think it was a bluff and lose respect for her, as she continued, basically starting to fantasize out loud.

"And who knows what else I might consider, Jerry? A lot of guys would love to see a mom their spit her lover's cum in her daughter's cunt, or skip the middle man and just point his spewing cock directly there. I might not let them fuck her, but that might be doable." A sloppy pussy might not prevent their youngest daughter from getting pregnant too, but Jerry wondering about it might prevent Cheryl from carrying her father's baby, if he was too squeamish to fuck a cum-smeared preteen pussy after they got home and Anna needed to take a nap. To Cheryl, she added, "As for a raise in your allowance, I might let you do a little extra to earn it. Probably nothing worse than letting a guy pee in your mouth after sex, or maybe drinking pee out of your mother's fucked pussy while a guy watches. Or maybe sex with dogs for an audience, if you're going to be doing that anyway, might as well make some cash from it. If we play this right we can pay off our debt in a few months and start saving up for diaper costs."

"Wow, Mom. You're really going at it!"

"I might as well," Anna said, giving up the last vestige of dignity, pulling the skirt up, the underwear down, and spreading the lips as her fingers inserted deep and thrust in and out of her hot sloppy cunt while her daughters watched. Her sudden boldness had surprised even herself... she was no angel, but she'd spent so much of her life pretending to be one, except to a select audience. She barely even swore around her kids. Appearing, to her children at least, to be a perfect, completely respectable mother who barely even thought about sex, certainly never masturbated, and god forbid doing so in front of her kids... that had been a compulsion almost as strong as Jerry's weird quirks, and yet it seemed to be completely gone now, as though pushing through it once had destroyed it forever.

That was probably a bad thing. She'd relied on that inhibition... it helped her say no to men when otherwise she would have gone along with whatever they wished. If she could cross that line and fuck herself with her fingers, behave like a shameless whore in front of her kids, she knew that she was going to be letting guys do a lot more than what she promised Cheryl, and the little girl probably would be getting pregnant, if not by Jerry. Despite what she just said about her limits, she could totally see herself watching a total stranger empty his balls buried to the hilt in Cheryl's ten-year-old pussy without even negotiating a higher price and nothing more than the mother's glare to encourage him to tip heavily. And even that thought turned her on. The only thing more depraved than a whore was a child whore relying on her molesters for handouts. Okay, not the only thing, it could always get worse, but it at least one thing worse than she'd ever done, and now she craved experiencing that depravity, and beyond, like a new junkie wanted to try every high there was. That could go poorly for everybody, but right now she didn't care. "This family seems bound and determined to go to hell in a handbasket, and if you can't beat them, join them, right? But you know what, I really need to pee, and I'm not in the mood to go to the toilet. One of you girls want to help your mommy out?" To her surprise, Cheryl crawled over and knelt in front of her, already eager to demonstrate she deserved a raise in her allowance. The girl locked her lips on the right spot, and Anna let her bladder go and looked to her husband, who she knew must have a raging erection but wasn't strong enough to cross the line and overcome his baggage like she had hers. Anna felt the need to taunt him for that while she pissed in her daughter's mouth. "So, aren't you going to say it Jerry? Or do you finally agree that this family can't sink any lower, now that we're going to have to spend the next six months inviting a pedophile into our house and watching him try to fill her cunt with enough sperm to knock her up, and training our youngest to be a piss-drinking mutt slut, keeping it all on video, and me and Cheryl turning to prostitution to pay for your daughter's charity pledge and the obstetrician fees?"

Jerry stood up revealing his pants had a noticeable damp spot at the crest of his bulge, not hiding it and yet not able to truly reveal it, either, still held back from his evident desires while there were clothed people in the room. Pity for him, she thought, and decided that, tonight at least, she wouldn't let him fuck one of his daughters like he clearly wanted, a minor cruelty she could employ simply by keeping her clothes mostly on, a payback for all the 'Could Be Worses' of their relationship. It would be fun to watch him gape longingly at his wife and daughters getting raunchy without being able to do anything but suffer, at least until he reverted to pattern and slinked away to the bathroom where he could finally masturbate. Still, there was one good thing about Jerry, occasionally he did make her laugh, and his response did just that, when he simply walked over and collected the charity flyer from Anna. "Hey, it could be worse." He shoved the paper in her face, pointed to the line in fine print at the bottom, 'All proceeds to be donated to the NRA,' and added, "The pedophile trying to knock up our daughter could be one of those perverted, immoral Democrats."

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

hi... got any [shifts eyes left and right]
molestr?

>>25460
Give him the time to edit the story

The Problem with Kayla - A Phil Phantom Tribute (M+g, M+f, mg, mF, gangbang, rape/dubcon, ir, preg, best, incest, more)

You've probably heard a lot of rumors about our town, and it's true, we've got a serious problem, but I'm going to try to explain it. You need to know the whole score if we're going to talk about what we can do about it. Bear with me, this might take a bit and please hold your judgments until the end. Basically, it's a problem with one little girl named Kayla. And it all started with an essay. Or, at least, from the perspective of the town, it started there.

Now, when eleven-year-old Kayla Mitchell won her school's essay contest, everyone she knew was impressed. When that essay went on to the win a bigger competition that went state-wide, and to move on to contention in a national competition, many felt she deserved a reward, and our mayor, who was friends with her principal, had his usual idea. See, this is a relatively small town, just one big public high school, one middle school, and one elementary, and one college that's filled mostly with out-of-towners. The college is technically outside of town, though we get a lot of the students visiting for food or entertainment, and some rent places here. It’s certainly outside of the mayor's jurisdiction, and nobody cares about the younger school's sports except parents and perverts, so the high school sporting events are the social nexus of the town, and whenever somebody does something notable the mayor often uses a game's halftime to highlight their success, much to the annoyance of most of us who are just there to see youthful athleticism. Halftime was for cheerleaders, and most people resented time taken away to let some local band perform or honor the little league winners or whatever minor success was being celebrated, unless of course they or someone they knew was being honored.

Kayla's moment in the spotlight promised to be exceptionally boring... sure, all of her friends and family and family friends were excited, or pretended to be, about her getting to speak in front of her classmates and a good chunk of the town, but most people weren't interested in a little girl reading her award-winning essay on how to make America a better place to live.

Except when that little wisp of a girl got up in front of the microphone (or rather climbed up, since she's a small girl and to reach where the mic lowered to she still had to stand on a chair), brushed her dark bangs out of her hair, and began speaking, Kayla didn't read the essay she wrote--the one that many people suspected her parents actually wrote. The text of her actual essay would have in fact made a good, wholesome speech, not very interesting, but fundamentally sound, basically a speech about pride, pride in your school, your town, your state, and your country and how essential to a free society it was that it be the kind of pride that inspires us to be our best instead of being complacent. But that wasn't the speech she gave.

No, instead, little Kayla got up in front of everyone and started in on a different speech, and what it lacked in wholesomeness it made up for in memorability. It started off innocently enough but soon took a dramatic turn as this little preteen made it clear how she wanted to be raped, how she would never testify against a rapist, and went on to give her theories about it being the natural place for women to be sexual outlets and breeding stock for bold men, like the football players, or the men who eventually came to try to take her off the stage but she assumed were there to fuck her in front of everybody.

Maybe it shouldn't have taken so long to pull her off the stage, but while plenty in the crowd heard the weird turn the speech was taking, plenty of others just tuned out when a girl started reading something she wrote in school... and even her parents might have tuned out a little, for it started very much like the other essay, at least until the words "Girls should have the pride to be their own authentic self. Never be ashamed of who you are and who you were meant to be. I'm not. A lot of girls my age are already deciding if they want to do sexual things with guys. Well, I don't want to make that decision. I know it's too much responsibility for me to worry about. If you ask me for sex, I'll say no. So don't ask! Just tell me to get down on my knees and suck your cock until it's hard enough to fuck me with. I'll do it and keep it our dirty secret, because I'm submissive like a girl should be. Or better yet, just be a real man and push me down and force your cock inside of whichever hole you like best, that's the way nature intended and it makes me so wet to think about. If you ask me, forced sex is best sex. Now, don't take it personally if I fight back until you get it inside... sometimes I think it's just more fun for both of us that way, but if you're not strong enough to overpower a little girl like me long enough to shove your cock in her baby cunt, you're probably too young to shoot a load of warm gooey cum in her anyway, and then what's the point, right? If you're worried, bring a friend or two. A girl's got three fuck holes for a reason, right?"

It went on like that for two or three full three minutes as she expounded on her theories about women being naturally rape-bait for men, that she knew every girl probably didn't want that, but she sure did, and how if she got to high school before carrying at least one rape-baby, she'd take it as a personal insult to her attractiveness.

Stunned silence, aside from the occasional gasps, probably contributed to her being able to go on so long. What do you do when a little girl, barely out of elementary school, launches into a speech that lewd? Even if some might have privately agreed with her theories, at least a solid majority thought she should be taken off stage the first time she brought up rape, and expected somebody to do something. That was a big part of the problem I think... there were so many people there, everyone was waiting for somebody else to take appropriate action, which made everyone look like they were content to just sit and listen to this outrageous plea, a preteen giving a green light to any would-be child molesters. Another issue was that many of the men who might have wanted to stand up and escort her off-stage were worried that an erection might be seen when they did and taken the wrong way (the women had no such excuse, so why none of them stood up must remain a mystery). Also a key factor was that those with unquestioned authority were otherwise engaged... the mayor was listening to another game on earbuds during the speech, and so just nodded and smiled along without realizing what he was giving his smiling approval to, and the principals of both schools took the opportunity for a mid-game bathroom break, hearing the speech only on the field's speakers as their pants were around their ankles and I imagine both, separately, did what a lot of people wished they could while hearing Kayla talk. The vice-principals of the respective schools were screwing in a car in the parking lot, both cheating on spouses who routinely skipped out on the games and so missed the speech. As for Kayla's parents, well, they tried to push ahead to the front and demand action but it took them a while to work through the crowd.

Finally, two of the male high school teachers did intervene, pulling Kayla off the chair, and the stage as she finished off with, "Oh, I guess I've gone over my time. Or these two have decided to be the first to rape me. Wish me luck, and enjoy the rest of the game!"

Those men were not the first two to rape her, or indeed raped her at all that day. Nobody did. You'd have to have a pretty low opinion of this town if you expected otherwise. What there was, was a very tense conversation with her parents and the middle school principal and members of law enforcement, all trying to find out who put Kayla up to such a stunt. The little girl insisted it wasn't a stunt, it was her real feelings, she'd hoped she'd be raped by now but since it hadn't happened yet, she figured this was just the best way to tell as many people as possible that she was into it. After all, she reasoned, she knew she was going to get punished, but at least this way she only got punished once, which seemed a lot better than being punished every time she told someone it was okay to rape her and they had a conscience and told her parents, and besides, if she had to individually tell anyone who might rape her that it was okay, it was hardly like rape at all. No, she insisted, repeatedly, nobody had actually raped her yet, or touched her at all, she just knew she wanted it.

This had her parents, Walter and Nicole, tearing their hair out, not the least because they weren't sure whether to believe it, nor were the cops who had a duty to investigate. A girl that young with desires that kinky had to have been molested, they reasoned, or at least heavily groomed for it, and she might have been conditioned into keeping the secret with threats. To that end, over the next few days, every male relative and neighbor and teacher who had any sort of contact with her was investigated thoroughly... in the process, one of her uncles was found to be molesting his stepdaughter, but not Kayla... she'd only had the briefest contact with him and never alone, because everybody suspected something was going on there.

In the end, as far as anyone could tell, for Kayla could not be trusted to do so herself, nobody had actually had any kind of sex with Kayla. A medical exam (with a female doctor, at the mother's request) revealed no evidence of sexual intercourse, even oral, although the girl had lost her hymen, allegedly by her own hand. Furthermore, investigators searching through all of her social media and relationships could find no evidence that anybody had intentionally groomed her to be rape bait... the only signs they did find in fact pointed her to doing it herself, with a little help from Tumblr. The site was a social network that her parents didn't understand except that a lot of girls, and some celebrities, had Tumblr pages, and Kayla had one as well. Tumblr had a darker side, though... in addition to the youth market it also had a huge number of hardcore porn tumblrs, some for weird incest captions added to ordinary porn clips, or fetishizing evil cheating bitches, or a million of other perverted fetishes. Normally the two worlds stayed separate and while no individual sought out Kayla there and corrupted her, she had listed herself as eighteen and stumbled across the line, found and followed some of these adult pages, tame at first but from there exploring to more and more hardcore stuff. By the time of her speech, the ones she had been reblogging most were ones with a very perverted view of a woman's place in the world--that place being fucking or sucking or otherwise serving at the sexual whims of a strong man who took without asking and made the girl like it--and a batch of confessional-style tumblrs of girls willingly sacrificing their own intelligence and free will to be nothing more than sexual objects for these same kinds of men. Or women, occasionally... it's true that some of what Kayla had reposted involved dominant women enslaving other women, although that was a distinct minority. Looking at these images and watching these videos regularly while masturbating, a psychologist suggested, Kayla brainwashed herself into wanting it for her real life.

A girl like that couldn't be trusted to be out unsupervised, and even before they determined that must have been what happened, her parents and school officials agreed that the little girl wouldn't be safe without stern and constant guardianship, and that couldn't happen at school. The girl had just essentially told the whole town (for, even those who weren't at the game soon heard about it from those who were) that she wanted to be raped. You can't really take a thing like that back... even if you change your mind, people already heard that if you say no you don't really mean it. Before, Kayla was trusted to walk to school, but now that meant walking past a high school full of teens who'd heard her beg for someone to grab her and force themselves on her, through a park with a lot of tree cover that could hide someone planning to give her what she wanted, and a row of townhouses, any of which she could disappear into and probably would if told to. Even assuming she made it safely to school, it hardly meant she was out of danger, for throughout the day she'd be exposed to loads of older kids, some struggling through their first hormonal urges and craving sex any way they could get it, even if it meant getting together with a few friends and pinning down a sixth-grader who secretly wanted it while they took turns trying out every hole she's got. Not to mention staff, some of whom might even be well-meaning, just willing to give one of their favorite students what she said she wanted and teach a few life lessons along the way like how to lower the risk of pregnancy through becoming an anal-only rapewhore. Although almost certainly not all of them would be so well-intentioned or interested in her welfare at all... over the years I've known some people who work at the schools, not just janitors forced to clean up after ungrateful brats, but teachers, grow to resent kids in their charge enough that they take any opportunity to make them suffer they can get away with, and if that meant through a rape that would never be reported, even better. The danger was real. Beyond even the risks to Kayla herself, though, with her attitude being what it was, the school administration also worried that she was a danger to other students, giving them dangerous ideas.

So, by mutual agreement, the suspension that started the moment Kayla gave her speech became her parents taking her out of school permanently, and Kayla's mother grudgingly quitting her job. Nicole didn't want to take that step, she made good money, but there didn't seem to be much choice. After all, they may have trusted Kayla to be home alone before, but now they feared she'd open her door to anyone, stranger or not, and plenty of people knew exactly where the little girl who wanted to be raped lived. Left alone, Nicole knew she'd come home from work one day soon to find her daughter's preteen pussy or asshole stretched around a cock... more likely, she'd just find the girl lying worn out or tied up with cum leaking out of her, but the image of catching them in the act was much more vivid in her nightmares from what she told her friends. Moreover, there was always the gnawing worry... maybe they'd clean up after themselves well and she'd never know for sure, but always suspect. Either way, in the wake of Kayla's speech, that little girl now had to be supervised at all times, lest she get a squirting dick inside her, and there were only so many relatives you could ask to help. Especially when Nicole, now newly paranoid, didn't trust any of them who had a dick of their own or, with women, any who had ever expressed, even casually, an interest in experimenting with lesbian sex, to even be briefly alone with her daughter. That left Kayla's great grandmother, called Grandma Martha, a cranky old woman who was against sex in all forms--to all appearances and her own admission, only had it once and got knocked up and angry and distrustful at men ever since--as the only alternative babysitter. The old broad might not have seemed like much help, elderly with cane and a bad hip, easy for a determined rapist to knock down and have his way with her great-granddaughter right in front of her, but she had a vicious Doberman named Chekov at her beck and call and carried a shotgun, so to many potential rapists she was more intimidating than the mother. Still, at Grandma Martha's age, it wasn't fair to ask her to help more than a few hours a week. That meant the little girl had to be homeschooled, by mom, and in addition, kept out of public as much as humanly possible, lest somebody be willing to risk everything and others willing not to spoil a good time if someone else did.

This wasn't entirely parental paranoia with theoretical perverts and pervert-enablers behind every corner, either. It was a clear and present danger. In the first two weeks alone, two public rapes, or at least molestations, were barely averted and reinforced a mother's need for vigilance, not that it needed much reinforcing. The first incident was when, after a meeting with a psychologist, Nicole brought her daughter to McDonald's for lunch. Everything seemed normal--stares and whispers from other people, sure, but they were growing used to that--right up until she went to the bathroom and returned to find a man rushing away from their booth and trying to stuff an erection back in his pants and her daughter Kayla flailing to get back into a seated position from where she'd been pushed into the seat... you could tell she was pushed because a stray French fry was mashed into her dark hair. It was also hard to miss the way the button of her jeans was now missing, as though torn off, and they were also unzipped and pulled down to her ass enough to expose the crack but not quite the hole. A few seconds later, or if they weren't so tight, and that man would have gotten the clothes off and something inside something a lot tighter. The best proof that it hadn't already happened was Kayla's sulk the rest of the day. Then, not two days later, in the grocery store, Nicole lost track of her daughter as she crossed down a new aisle, then when she realized and turned back, she found Kayla on her knees staring at an erect cock with an open mouth and extended tongue, though thankfully this pervert, too, fled when she, not the daughter but the mother, screamed. Two near rapes of her eleven-year-old daughter in broad daylight, in public, that was sure to get her paranoid forever after. Worst of all, in the grocery store nobody else was in that aisle, but in the McDonalds? Nicole was sure she heard a suspicious round of coughing when she emerged from the bathroom, that could only be interpreted as a heads-up to a would-be rapist to abort before being caught even more in the act by an angry mother.

It takes a village to raise a child, they used to say, but Nicole couldn't trust this village. The size of the town is probably one reason. It's big enough to have plenty of strangers you can't identify and yet small enough that people cover for each other. I'd guess that between the contingent who secretly thought, "I hope that little slut gets what coming to her," and those who secretly thought "I hope that adorable little slut gets what she's after," it made up half the town, and a good chunk of that wanted to do the job themselves, or at least watch and help whoever did the job get away with it.

That made for a lonely life for a little girl. The Internet was cut off, of course, except rarely under direct supervision. Visitors were forbidden. Girls her own age were allowed, at first, to give Kayla some semblance of a social life... until their parents walked in on little Kayla being forced into eating pussy. Imagine that, being a parent, walking in on your child, tongue buried in the crotch of one of her visiting 'friends', face slimy and glistening, while another girl roughly banged your daughter's little hole with two fingers and a third held her arms so she couldn't fight back if she wanted to. Judging by the also wet cunt of the one holding the arms, they'd had time for at least one change-up to the roster.

After chasing the girls out of the room, Kayla's parents asked her what happened. "They forced me! I thought they were my friends!" But she said it with a big bright smile on her face, itself still stained with girly juices, and then went on to an excited recounting of exactly how they had forced her, a tale that Kayla could not recount without her hands slipping into her underwear and rubbing furiously, a step so far she'd avoided in front of her parents.

Mom broke first, unable to watch her daughter masturbate openly while grinning as she continued her story by explaining how one of her friends, Lauren, after cumming on her tongue, then got a rubber dong that she said was the size and shape of Lauren's dad and shoved it inside Kayla's ass while Michelle took her turn at forcing Kayla to use her mouth. When Kayla realized that Lauren had left the fake cock on the bed when it was her turn to hold Kayla down and completely forgotten it in the panic of getting out, the girl offered to get it and show exactly her parents how far it got forcibly pushed into her ass. That was the last straw and Nicole had to get out of the room.

Walter was still interested in hearing the tale, at least for the few seconds before his wife came back in to drag him out. Grandma Martha wasn't there at the time, but her advice was to whup the little girl's ass for acting like such a whore until she changed her ways... though she advised this for a lot, and they knew she sometimes put the advice into practice when she watched Kayla and the girl had said or done something outrageous in front of her. Walter and Nicole, although not approving of corporate punishment, never explicitly forbade it... but it was one thing to ignore it and another to perform it or specifically request it as punishment for their little girl's reaction to being turned into a fucktoy by her own friends.

That incident was, as far as they or anyone else knew, Kayla's first taste of actual rape, not fantasized, not threatened or nearly-got-raped, but actually rape, and from her own girl friends and a rubber cock that was apparently a good approximation of Lauren's father's, although whenever anybody talked about the event, the word 'forced' was used, but not raped, not even by Kayla. It was as though nobody seemed to count it if it wasn't a real cock, but it had to count by any reasonable standard. That Kayla so evidently enjoyed it was pretty worrying to her parents, though. So was the occasional suggestion from well-meaning friends that maybe they should just let her get raped by at least one man on a regular basis, because otherwise she was in danger of becoming a lesbian. Reverend Chapman, the local preacher, who first proposed this (while providing, or attempting to provide, private spiritual counseling for the parents as Grandma Martha watched Kayla at home alone), also volunteered himself for the job, but was overruled by the parents immediately.

The other option the priest proposed--in that hasty meeting they requested in desperation and were now having second thoughts about--was a chastity belt the church had access to. That sounded like a good plan at first except that contrary to the media depictions, it would require regular removal, cleaning, and bodily care by an expert, who should see her daily and also hold the key. Again he volunteered himself as the only one qualified, and that suggestion was also rejected, and the whole chastity belt idea fell by the wayside, as did the hope of being able to rely on the church for any real help. "Besides," her father, Walter, pointed out once they got home. "It's not like it would let us send her to back school anyway... even if they couldn't get through the belt, that would just encourage them to rape her sweet mouth instead."

This is amazing.

So began Kayla's isolation. Limited excursions, no visitors, not even non-internet phone privileges after the tendency to find the little girl masturbating at the instruction of a strange voice on the adult end of the line telling her how he'd rape her. The last straw on that particular issue was walking in on Kayla being instructed to fist herself to simulate the speaker's supposed cock. That was disturbing not just for the instruction (which because Nicole arrived just in time, was never carried out, at least not live on phone) but for the fact that Nicole had screened the call before passing it to Kayla and been sure it was one of Kayla's cousins at first. Either someone had made Nicole's niece make the call and she turned it over to a pervert, or Kayla had used the phone access to call someone else after. Either option was disturbing enough that it ended the phone privileges entirely. That meant Kayla had to spend a lot of her time cut off from all human contact except her parents. She was like a princess locked up in a fairy tale castle, except in this case all the dragons were outside.

Even her father could only see her supervised, which wasn't entirely unfair, considering what happened when Lauren next showed up, while Nicole was taking Kayla to a doctor's appointment. Kayla's dirty blonde little friend and recent rapist had the nerve to come by the day after lesbian raping to ask to retrieve something she left behind, something long and rubber and about yay-big. A normal fatherly reaction might have been to threaten police action, or attempt to morally educate the girl and explain why her behavior was unacceptable. Instead, Kayla's father simply made the little blonde preteen prove the black rubber cock she was looking for was hers, by inserting it all the way inside of her, first in her pussy and then in her ass, and, while it was in her ass, he stepped over another line and pushed the preteen down on her face and made use of her wet pussy and made it even wetter.

Now Walter might tell himself that he was just doing that to teach the girl a lesson, standing up for his daughter against the bullies who forced themselves on her, and he would eventually try telling others that story as well, but while he may have been thinking of his daughter when he filled that little girl's hairless pussy full of cum, and sent her home with it leaking out and the rubber penis still in her ass, the only way he was protecting Kayla was by getting certain urges out on somebody other than his own little girl.

So obviously, although he kept this secret from his wife (for a while), Nicole's motherly intuition that her husband couldn't be trusted alone with an easily rapeable little girl was accurate, and what's more, Walter was worse than useless at protecting her from other threats, at least after Lauren's dad confronted the man about what he'd done, and the fact that she was now pregnant with Walter's baby, and either of them could send him to jail with a simple DNA test... but Lauren's dad also told him, with a smile, that there was no reason for that to happen, and indeed Walter could keep raping the little slut, as long as he, in kind, promised to not stand in the way if Kayla's mom was distracted enough and a good rape opportunity presented itself with either or both. That didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon, as Mom and Grandma Martha were ever-vigilant, and little Kayla on lockdown, which made it easy to promise to get out of a police visit.

The whole situation was unsustainable long-term, everybody knew that, and Kayla's parents knew the best option was to move away, give her a fresh start, of sorts... they'd still have to keep an eye on Kayla, but at least wouldn't have to keep an eye on the whole town, if they only lived somewhere that nobody had heard her speech, but that presented its own difficulties. For a fresh start you need money they didn't have, it was all sunk up in the house. And that, they tried to sell, of course, right from the start, but everyone in town knew where the little rapebait girl lived, and every Open House concluded with the discovery of cum on Kayla's bed, usually pillow, and occasionally in her fresh underwear drawer. This was, of course, because the family typically leaves at an open house, something many visitors were disappointed to find out, especially because the first sign had been vandalized to say "Open Ho" and visitors felt it was a bait and switch to advertise that and then try to sell them an empty house. Every Open House also required a thorough round of motherly vigilance to check if somebody snuck in a cell phone or recording device or vibrator into Kayla's room, or hid in a closet under the bed for a good chance. This check was also not merely theoretical, although some of them took longer to locate than others. The electronics, that is... the men were found very quickly, to Kayla's disappointment, and all arrested except for one fourteen-year-old that they simply told on to his parents, thinking that was enough punishment. Eventually it just seemed easier to take the house off the market. The only offers they got for the property included unworkable stipulations, like that the buyer had to have a key and free access to every room of the house at any time up till the closing date, day or night, or that Kayla had to perform at a private party lasting an entire weekend. And even those offers were under the asking price. The market was rough on everybody, but especially on Kayla's family who were stuck with a rape-craving daughter in a nice house in a good town that seemed more and more interested in satisfying that craving.

I did just call it a good town, and I stand by that. I mean, it might seem from all this like this town was, is, a hellhole of debauchery, perverts on every corner, confident enough to attack in broad daylight, a danger to everybody. But that's not the case. All the town's open perversion and tolerance for such back then surrounded one little girl who had seemed to be asking for it, and what's more mostly trying in vain. Other than that... well, of course there was a seedy underside. Every town's got one. Sure, kids got molested, rapes happened, but they were no worse and handled with the same seriousness as they are in other towns (which sadly includes a lot of people not believing accusations, but you can hardly blame the town for a problem all of society has). There was just one collective blind spot, at first, anyway. The same types of protective men who, upon seeing a single man sitting on a park bench, would confront him, demand to see his phone to prove he wasn't a pervert taking pictures of little girls would shrug their shoulders and ignore shady people obviously following Kayla and her mother out in public. Mothers would give their sons speeches on respecting women and the importance of consent, then end it with, "Except Kayla, if you get a chance at that little slut, rape her all you want, just don't get caught." I dare say that if a man encountered a woman stumbling drunk and naked in the middle of the night, in our town, there would have been better than average odds that he'd give her the shirt off his back and escort her home unmolested... unless it was Kayla, in which case she'd get a little more than molested. It was downright weird... when it involved that one little girl, people got bold, or complacent, like they all knew that child was going to get raped and rather than dreading it, it seemed best to get it over with, make a game of it, at least among a small percentage of the population, and the rest of the town just looked the other way and went on as normal. At first.

Because that little girl may have been sequestered to protect the kids from her perverted and dangerous philosophy, but the damage was already done... a lot of them already heard it, girls around her age or younger, and it slowly began to have an effect on their town, an effect that persists to this day. "I'm with Kayla" soon became a new slogan, worn first on t-shirts or buttons, though both of those were banned at school. Silicon gel wristbands with the slogan were eventually tolerated... once they got to the point of making those, the faculty had given up on trying to contain it, and you can hardly walk down the street without seeing at least a couple girls wearing them.

The slogan idea started with the high school girls, as something of a joke, at first, or at least that's what they told themselves, a way to get attention campaigning for something nobody should want. A couple weeks after the speech, a handful of girls came to school wearing "I'm With Kayla!" T-Shirts, and "Rape Me If You Dare" on the back. Caused quite a scandal, as you might expect.

One of the ringleaders of this plan, an artsy activist type named Patricia Harris, a girl who often wore baggy clothes to hide her body, left her hair a wild black mess rather than get it styled, and wore unflattering but functional glasses. Many people were convinced she was a lesbian, but as far as I saw she never dated at all. The girl got interviewed in the school paper about her stunt after she was suspended and she was unrepentant and determined to go right on wearing it, albeit not on school grounds. She said she thought it served as a beautiful commentary on how the patriarchy encourages women to become their worst negative stereotypes. Of course the administration swiftly banned the shirt and punished anyone who tried to wear it on school grounds, but nobody did anything else to Patricia, or the others at school. At first.

But you tempt fate enough, and fate will rape you, as the old saying goes. Or maybe that's a new saying, and it's only here people are saying it. Whatever the case, one day Patricia went missing coming home from school. Her parents were frantic, but she appeared a day later wearing nothing but the shirt, claiming rape, that she couldn't see the faces of the men (plural) who took her but she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of making her stop her political statement, she was going to keep wearing the shirt whenever she could.

At the behest of her parents, the shirt got replaced with a more subtle button that ditched the "rape me" line and just said "I'm With Kayla!" What was less subtle was the way Patricia started steadily improving her appearance, doing her hair and makeup with a fastidiousness she would have mocked earlier, showing off her body with skirts and shirts that got shorter and shorter with every rape. Did I leave that out? Yeah, she kept getting raped, obviously, and kept telling everything but the names to anyone who'd listen, and after a few she was skirting the school dress code and seemed to be deliberately dressing like a bimbo to encourage more rapes. You'd think her experiences would put a stop to the whole shirts and buttons idea, but the truth was, many just thought she wasn't really being raped, she was just a garden-variety slut using an excuse. Maybe you think so too, but you'd be wrong, she said 'no' every time, or at least the time I was present for. But I can understand why girls didn't believe her word, with the way she was dressing more and more like a slut, and started demanding teachers call her Trish instead of Pat for short, then Cumsponge Trish, but when they balked at that she insisted her name was now Tiffany, because Tiffany was a name that told everybody you weren't useful as anything other than being a human cocksleeve anyway (which of course, sparked a bitter rivalry with Tiffany Pryce, but that was a conventional teen girl rivalry and included only a few arranged rapes on either side so rather than go on a tangent I will leave that story for another day). She'd hardly be the first girl who got cock-drunk and started organizing her life around that need and maybe that's partly true, but what she craved wasn't just sex, but specifically rape. She really was like Kayla, she turned down anyone who asked, she just wanted to be held down and forced to be some man's sexual outlet. All of that might seem like a total rejection of her earlier ideals, but Trish, or Tiffany now, hadn't changed completely... she still was interested in social justice, she just expressed that by trying to arrange more black and Asian men, or trans men or girls or anyone other than white cishet men, to rape her. Sure, white guys still did, because a woman can't always control who rapes her (not to mention that although the town may not be all white, it's not the most diverse either), but she can make it easy and pleasurable for some more than others, and she always made sure to take a morning-after pill if a white guy had raped her. And she was still a firm opponent of police brutality, particularly against blacks but against anybody unless it was police brutally raping her pussy... that she would be okay with, though she'd probably berate them for abusing their power while they did it.

Because the other girls thought 'Trishany' was just a dumb slut, or on the road to that, the "I'm With Kayla" buttons grew in popularity despite the potential consequences, which were attributed more to the shirt's provocative "rape me if you dare" addition... kids assumed with the subtler messaging they could always explain to a creeper that they didn't really want rape, they just supported Kayla emotionally. But wearing the buttons... they were a good way of getting attention, some from other sluts-in-hiding who wanted sexual attention rather than actual rape, some as a way to mock Patricia-Tiffany (who, despite multiple people wearing the shirts, seemed to be the only one to get raped for it at first), some still believing in the original stated purpose to make a statement against the patriarchy, and some just thumbing their noses at authority in general. Eventually the faculty caught up, and (after the first on-campus rape, where Trish, now Tiffany, was found in the boy's bathroom unconscious and covered in cum), the buttons were banned too.

It's hard to keep a good trend down, though, and within a few days of the ban (maybe even before it) the wristbands started appearing. Don't ask me who made them... or who ordered them, anyway. They were made in bulk from an internet order, just little pink silicone bracelets saying "I'm with Kayla." Tiffany was one of the ones handing them out (which Tiffany, I'm not entirely sure of, I wasn't around those weeks and my sources are confused... it might even have been both) but who initiated the order, I've never been able to figure out. But they sure got around.

High school girls... the sluts, the mockers, and the true believers, simply replaced one type of subversive signal with another, and even if they didn't agree on exactly what they were signaling, at least believing they were pulling one over on adults, a nice side benefit. The middle school girls, though, they mostly took it unironically, at first, probably because many of the ones who took on the cause didn't really understand exactly what they were advertising, they really thought they were giving moral support to Kayla, wanting her back at school as a friend they missed, rather than actually saying they agreed with her ideas that raping was natural and the best kind of sex. Not all of them, the ones with sexual experience, like the girls who raped Kayla personally, they knew the deal and some were all for it as long as they could pretend they didn't get it, use the excuse that they couldn't expect to be actually raped.

And indeed, it being a good town, nobody was raped, save Trishany. At first. But when that dam burst, first it started as a trickle, then became a flood. Uses of the little pink bracelet after the next cluster of rapes, targeting a variety of different girls with only the bracelet in common, shot way down.

Then their popularity began to trickle up again.

Even at this stage, I must point out, rapes were rare. Just sex was rare for the younger set. We are, as I said, a good town, and not everyone has the stomach for rape, and certainly not to rape a child. Me, personally, I can't claim I'm completely innocent, or that I don't have tastes for younger stuff than I should, but I abhor rape and couldn't possibly bring myself to rape a girl, unless I was certain she really wanted it, and even then, I wouldn't go any younger than the age where, from a lot of observational experience, people can reason like adults if they actually choose to, which is fifteen. Except for Kayla. I'd have raped that little darling preteen slut if I just had a few unobserved seconds to snatch her off the street. And maybe a few similar exceptional candidates, but on the whole, I'd refuse sex with an underage girl even if offered. I don't think I'm unusual in that level of moral fiber either, which is why rapes were rare, at first. It was just a few people doing it, and only a few girls getting it. Often the most attractive, which often meant the most popular, which is probably what made the wristbands popular again after the initial fear ran out. It was just a small group at first, but the bands became a hip thing to wear again once the popular girls started trading their rape stories in gossip sessions at school that faculty sometimes heard and often pretended they didn't because they were a little disturbing. They were half-gossip sessions, focusing on lurid details told with visible excitement both from listeners and speakers, and half-tips about who would take advantage of a girl. Reverend Chapman was quickly learned to be someone you could go to if you wanted to be molested, a slow ramp-up that would lead to a rape if you kept seeing him, and the number of girls who did soon reignited his faith in God, albeit a very different God than the one he had originally imagined calling him to the clergy.

It started getting really out of control when girls began proudly and brazenly using it as a reason to get out of handing in an assignment or taking a test they hadn't prepared for. "I can't, I just got raped yesterday," is an excuse that's hard to deny, as long as the girl's willing to go into details in front of the class (which never included the identity of the perpetrators, although sometimes that could be figured out from where it happened). It became even more of a perverse incentive because everyone believed the excuse was probably true, on some level, of the wristband-wearers, but girls who tried to use that excuse without wearing one stopped being believed, unless, sometimes, they were willing to submit to very public in-class inspections to prove that their holes had been violated (in retrospect, that might have been a mistake, but administration let it slide). So if you wanted a ready-made excuse to get out of your schoolwork when you needed it, taking the band, and risking the rapes that came with it, became the price you paid. And it was a risk many took, actual rapes still being rare then. Many of those who cried rape to get out of schoolwork were almost certainly making things up. At first. But only certain types of stories could get your out of an assignment, the type where guys just grabbed you and you couldn't see who it was, the real gossip sessions were a lot more exciting as the popular girls, the ones who got raped breathlessly swapped stories of bigger and better rapes often from people everyone knew.

Not all their stories were true either, mind you, especially not the part about being forced... Chapman might have only needed a few girls pushing him into it before he started to seek out any girl with a wristband for private spiritual counseling, but some other men had standards. Kids exaggerate, if not outright lie, and you know, let's be honest, the definition of rape here is kind of fundamentally iffy. When a girl announces she wants to be raped, wears a bright pink wristband to that effect, dresses slutty to show off as much skin as she can get away with, finds excuse after excuse to be alone with men who might do it, tugs on the bracelet in front of them to make sure they see it, snaps it against her skin a few times if that doesn't work, and gets wet as fuck when one's cock pushes its way inside, sure, let's call it rape if she at least half-heartedly says no when he finally pushes her into a wall and starts removing her panties. But when a girl pulls her skirt up, gets down on all fours and points her naked ass at the school janitor after hours, and claims she just fell down, then asks if he can help her up, then asks him not to touch her with his grubby janitor's hands, he should use his cock, it's hard to take what happens next seriously as a forcible rape no matter how Becky Lowenthal tried to spin it later.

Nor, as I understand, did little Dina Lopez really get raped by the football team of the nearby college... she simply took a bus down there, snuck into the locker room, stripped down to nothing but her wristband, waited for the first team to come in and said she'd do anything for one of the team's towels, but no, there was no whole-team gangbang on that eleven-year-old, they shooed her out of there and gave her a ride home and only the two that drove her took turns fucking her in the back seat in the driveway of her place to kill time until someone got home and they wouldn't have to worry about leaving her unsupervised. She got her towel though, which let her brag about more than she (probably) did.

And though Tina Williams did get raped by Missy Robertson's brother Josh, for real, with only the presence of the wristband and a few minutes alone the morning after a sleepover, it took Missy crying for an hour at how if he was going to rape her friend he needed to rape her too before Josh finally dumped his first incestuous load.

You could hardly call that rape, but she did, and it was the first incestuous rape to get bragged about, at least in the immediate family. Uncles, cousins, grandfathers, sure... occasionally the Kayla supporters talked about that, but that hardly counted, immediate family was something new, because they had constant access. A lucky girl could be at risk for a rape all night every night, a perfect excuse to get out of homework, if they just lied about where it happened and showed the teacher the cum stains in the morning.

Of course even if you consider it rape (and you might, of the statutory kind, since he was a college student at the time) Josh raping his twelve-year-old-sister was hardly the first in-home incest rape to happen (remember Lauren, after all and her suspicious knowledge of her father's cock size)... it was just the one that opened the Kayla supporters eyes to some of the possibilities and let some rapes come out of the closet.

But this kind of stuff was still pretty rare, and a lot of made-up stories were competing with the real ones, and, kids being kids, a lot of gossip about who was doing the raping was also made up, leading to some fine respectable boys who were still in fact virgins, being given the reputation for being insatiable rape-monsters.

That was when the High School Rape Club formed, and where things really exploded in popularity. Of course, it wasn't called that, you could never get administration approval for that club (at least, official administration approval), but at a meeting of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, some of the more bold rapists got together with some of the unjustly accused and started sharing stories of their own, and collectively decided, fuck it, if bitches wanted to be raped, they were going to be raped. Masturbation was a sin too, so why masturbate when there were enough girls asking for it that you could just grab one and have some fun every time you got a boner? They formed the Huntsmen Club, ostensibly a club to talk about hunting and other outdoorsy activities, and sometimes they did talk about that, but mostly what they were hunting was rape victims. They got a faculty sponsor who agreed with their real mission and held after school meetings, eventually to brag and trade tips, share pictures and videos, and often to drag a girl to for a gang rape, but at first to agree to certain core issues, like what constituted 'fair game.'

For all that they were conservative in their origins, they were also remarkably egalitarian about that. They didn't care if you were a lesbian, straight, or trans in heart but not yet allowed to have surgery, as long as you had a pussy between your legs and wore a pink wristband or gave some other unambiguous signal that you wanted rape, they would rape you. A few even only required an asshole and some gays and trans girl students did don the wristband and find out the town was a lot less conservative than they always believed, at least behind closed doors. In fact, what had formerly been only one openly trans girl in town soon became about a dozen, all of them firm, band-wearing Kayla supporters, and somewhat convenient rape targets thanks to the school district's regressive policy requiring them to use the boy's bathroom and locker rooms. The trans men only tripled in number, but some of them got a lot of action for similar reasons, at least when they found out about the club and joined in.

Fair game also didn't worry overly about age, just what they called "sustainable hunting," which meant that making sure a victim was still available for raping by other Huntsmen... if a girl was so little that you'd send her to the hospital by raping her, or caused her to go crying to her parents who blew the whole deal, you're not being a good hunter, wristband or no wristband. Being attentive to particular rape victim's needs was also highly recommended, some girls liked to be held down, some wanted to be free to play games or text on their phone while the rape happens (if you had the right type of rapist, being rape-bait was a good hobby for that, not requiring your full attention), some appreciated a couple bills thrown on them, sticking to their cum-stained body, after a particularly enjoyable rape (for the rapists). This wasn't thought of like they were being paid for the sex, since then prostitution wasn't rape at all, but just like a nice, optional, tip for a rape victim being compliant, a tip which might pay for a morning-after pill if the girl was worried about that, or prenatal vitamins, but mostly because it encouraged such good behavior with future rapists, and of course not to snitch, except gossiping among wristband wearers and potentially future wristband-wearers, which was fine as long as it was complimentary.

After the first few meetings of the Huntsmen, a lot more of the rape stories turned out to be true, and a lot more girls were having them, and that the club got away with it so often encouraged more and more people outside the club to target the town's girls. That was when rape really started to become a town epidemic, though it still all happened slowly enough that a lot of people didn't notice until it got really bad.

Some clung to the idea that it wasn't a rape epidemic, it was just an underage sex epidemic. You could argue of course, and some did, that the rapes weren't really rapes, because the supposed victims chose it to happen by wearing the wristband in the first place. That was in fact argued successfully in court, several times... the judge instructed them that legally it was not a defense, at least not in cases of statutory rape of minors, but jury nullification definitely played a role in many cases, defendants getting off once it was proved that the victim wore a "I'm With Kayla" wristband and implicitly invited it, even if she was nine years old. Perhaps "jury of one's peers" may not have been the best idea after all, at least not in a town where many of the peers wanted their own shot at Kayla, or those who followed her, and with the election of a new judge partway through the scandal who was sympathetic to the requests by the juries to 'inspect' the victim like she was any other piece of evidence. Jury members privately interviewing a witness is unheard of in law, but that new judge ruled that as long as a girl didn't talk, it didn't count as testimony, and they could make sure her mouth was too full to talk. The judge's ruling was unorthodox but limited in scope, and allowed local juries merely to examine relevant matters of fact to determine whether a rape occurred and how severe it had been. For example, they were instructed that they could explore issues like "does she still have a hymen?", "how wet did her pussy get while stroked?", "how easily does her asshole and pussy accommodate one cock after another?", and "how long did it take between dumping loads inside her and loads no longer visibly leaking out?" (which helped narrow down if she had multiple partners that day and if there were any unindicted co-conspirators) but not anything irrelevant like "does she like to get spanked or pissed on during sex?" unless that was a component of the alleged crime itself. Juries often became divided on the issue of whether a girl was asking for it, Twelve Angry Men style, requiring extended deliberations, even though, in the end, they tended to agree. I'm not even going to make the obvious hung jury joke. Few rape trials ever ended in convictions for someone wearing a pink wristband, and double jeopardy applied so, legally speaking, no rape occurred in those cases at all.

Of course, even if you took that theory that inviting a rape wasn't rape, real rapes did occur. They always had before the wristbands, and although the availability of easy-access rape-bait lowered the numbers, it didn't eliminate the phenomenon completely... some guys just got impatient at waiting for particular girls to don the bracelet, and decided they could slip it on her wrist after the fact and leave her cum-covered and worn out in front of the Sherriff's office so he could later testify she was wearing it when she was found. Some wore it only on a dare, only to find the ones who made the dare got a lot more daring with a girl with a pink band on her wrist, other girls were tricked into wearing one without knowing what it meant, a trick particularly employed to haze new girls (at least one of who started out as a new boy). And there were some genuine misunderstandings, or at least claimed misunderstandings, where someone raped a girl who they thought was advertising for it, assuming the "#MeToo" shirt they were wearing was asking for the same treatment as too many other girls in town were getting, rather than the exact opposite, or seeing a pink bracelet on a wrist and only finding out after the rape that it wasn't a "I'm with Kayla" wristband but rather a bracelet supporting, say, breast cancer research, or, occasionally, outright mistaking one girl for another.

One thirteen-year-old girl was raped by her twin sister that way... not directly, but merely by proxy. See, Layla McCarthy wore the pink band and enthusiastically took a rape on a daily basis, while her sister Lorelei didn't, but... they were identical twins, both with pretty red hair and pale, freckled skin, often dress alike save for the wristband, and people who've raped you once usually assume that if you strut boldly by them like you don't know who they are that you're basically just asking for it again, especially if they don't know you have a twin. A lot of people even started to think that Lorelei wanted the rapes too, just she wanted them more realistic and craved the humiliation of the in-class rape inspections when she needed an extension on an assignment because of one. I can't speak to that, you never know what's inside someone's head, but I do know that if you rape each of the twins a few times you can tell them apart... not just by their reaction once you get your cock in, either, although that's a dead giveaway as well. I know what you're thinking, she's not even fourteen, much less fifteen, but I swear, I only know from the trial, I happened to be on the jury (civic duty happens to be very important to me), and we did an extensive review of the evidence, deliberating overnight, and eventually it became pretty clear... Lorelei's got more ass-freckles, so you can stop before actual rape occurs, if you're really going to hold firm to the Huntsmen Code. But I can understand the mistake for first-timers, and there was no evidence that the accused raped both of them regularly enough to make that distinction, and that's why we voted to acquit. Mistakes happened, and it just didn't seem just to ruin a man's life over a simple cast of mistaken identity.

It got even easier to make mistakes like that once the wristbands stopped being the only clear signifier that a girl wanted to be raped. Kaitlyn Walsh was responsible for the first of these, and while a heartfelt desire to be held down and raped by strangers may have been part of the reason she did what she did, a lot of us think it was mostly envy. See, before Kayla made her speech, Kaitlyn was probably the most well-known little girl in town, thanks to her modeling career. Most folks didn't know her name, but they recognized her on sight from flyers, and the commercial from the local car dealership, and a few others from the nearest big city that aired frequently, including a Mattress Warehouse that she was the face of. Granted, this was all small-time stuff, but, in a small-time town, it counted as celebrity. Before Kayla burst into prominence, if you took a poll and asked people which underage girl they most wanted for a little bit of naughty sexual fun, and instead of rounding up a mob they somehow answered honestly, she'd have won by a majority. Golden blonde locks, angelic face and a tiny lithe body with, at just thirteen, already softball-sized, perfectly proportioned little titties that hid easily under clothes if a job needed the little-girl-look but really looked great in a bikini for an glossy advertisement. Before Kayla the biggest gossip among the dirty old men was the rumors that there was an accidental Kaitlyn nipslip that didn't make the final flyer. Plenty of casual inquiries were made, but either it was a myth or the photographer was very selfish. Just the rumor though probably inspired more than a few masturbation sessions. And she knew it too, the effect she had on men, reveled in it, so it must have stung to see a new girl, two years younger, suddenly getting all of the attention she had come to expect as her due. She was the middle school queen, dethroned in her final year and feeling herself becoming more and more irrelevant as the art of the tease was giving way to the art of just letting someone know they can rape you with no consequences. Early on, she confidently told people "I'd never wear one of those ugly wristbands" in the hopes of stopping the trend with her displeasure, only to find it growing despite her.

So, Kaitlyn must have decided, "Okay, the rules have changed, I'll beat this little upstart tart at her own game." She prided herself on seeing the next big trend, and if that trend was rape, she was determined that she would be the face of rape, not Kayla. She kept her vow not to take the wristband. But she did start advertising herself as prime rape meat in her own rights.

Now this was during the time when the Huntsmen were just getting going, and they were responsible for most of the rapes that deserved the name. They and some of the bolder adults, sure, although most of the people inclined to rape a middle schooler were still trying to crack the Kayla problem, and the ones who simply weren't picky were focusing on the high school girls. Middle school girls, outside of family, it was mostly by the Huntsmen, and while tweens seemed to find it flattering to have high school boys drag you off to their clubhouse after a boring day of school, it was still pretty rare. Most just wore the wristband for the excitement, the opportunity for an excuse to get out of a boring test or assignment if they needed it and to take advantage of the fact that the administration generally didn't enforce dress codes on wristband wearers (at least not to the same standards).

Kaitliyn, she tried to get the attention of the Huntsmen with short skirts, but without a flash of pink on her wrist, they barely even looked twice at her, so she finally took drastic measures, filming a video on her phone, a video of her on her bed, smiling face and golden hair, then panning down to reveal her naked breasts and pussy, and then, selfie-style, showing off how she could fit a big cock in that pussy, demonstrating with a very phallic hammer handle (making her video probably the best ad the local hardware store ever had, and they didn't even have to pay her). That hammer made a big impression on the watchers, showing off not only how her tight little pussy lips could handle something that size (maybe not comfortably but at least stretching without apparent difficulty), but also revealing that this was not the first time she'd had something up there. Not that anybody expected much--thirteen-year-olds can be sexually active, and there were plenty of rumors about some of her jobs coming from playing the casting couch game (which is real even for minors competing for low-level commercials, although I can't be certain Kaitlyn got any of hers that way)--but it's one thing to wonder, another thing to know. Some of us who aren't Huntsmen still consider "fair game" to not include being a girl's first time, but if she's already had it, by fair means or foul, at least you're not really corrupting any innocence unless you're pushing her into really kinky shit. And that, too, she seemed to be pushing herself into, because what made far more of an impression than the sight of that hammer handle disappearing inside, and demonstrating the capabilities of, her fuck-hole, was what she did while she masturbated. She whispered, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough that a parent couldn't, even in the next room, "No, please, you can't, you have to stop, I'm only thirteen, you could get me pregnant, please no!" And that same acting acumen that convinced people this thirteen-year-old-girl really wanted a used car from our local dealership was put to use simultaneously sounding like a girl who was being raped and a girl who should not be listened to when she said 'no' because she wanted it anyway. That's a hard nuance to get across if you don't mean it.

After a minute or two of vivid self-rape, the camera moving back and forth between closeups of her shaved cunt slurping on that handle and her distressed-seeming face, she pulled out, smiled, and said, "That could be you if you've got the balls. Just make sure you film it so I can show others what a good rape victim I make, far better than that tease Kayla," and followed that up with a listing of her upcoming schedule and where she could be most easily raped.

It was a bold play, hell, just making the video was bold, much less sending it to all she did. That's a confident girl, or maybe a girl used to performing on demand who will do anything to steal the spotlight.

It backfired on her though... or maybe she liked how it worked out in the end, but from my perspective, it was a huge waste, just because of some bad luck. See, a lot of us were considering raping her... even though we were interested in Kayla more now, she had made a compelling case for herself and those old fantasies were a powerful lure (she's also not yet fifteen, but she's one of those rare exceptions that would make me bend my moral code). If we'd moved a little faster, she might have eclipsed Kayla and truly become the face of rape.

Unfortunately, when Kaitlyn did get raped for the first time, she got raped by a black guy. Now, I'm no racist, I've got black friends, I try to treat every kid the same no matter what their race, and hell, my sweet little niece is biracial. In my book, blacks have exactly as much right to rape little girls who secretly want it as white guys do, but when I watched the next video to come from Kaitlyn, my heart sank to see her struggling with one dark hand pushing her down as a long black cock pushed its way inside her, Kaitlyn once again whispering, "no, please, you can't," as her rapist used her own phone to film himself penetrating her, waist down only, because he was committing a felony, but one neither side seemed to really mind. My heart sinking was first just from "damn, someone else got there first" and a little from "that cock's way bigger than mine." Let's not have any racist bullshit about her, a little white girl, being 'ruined' by having sex with a black man... only idiots believe that, and I've had sex with many girls who've been with blacks. Tiffany (Trish, I mean, I've never gotten around to the other one even after she started wearing the wristband) had been with a few by the time I'd been with her, and hell, one of my fellow jurors in the McCarthy rape trial was black and we inspected the evidence together and I'm sure at least once I had my cock in either Layla or Lorelei while she was still dripping with his cum (I can't recall which, and again, it was solely out of civic responsibility and diligent consideration of the evidence in the interests of assuring the defendant got a fair trial, but that didn't mean we couldn't also get off on the pursuit of justice). It's not about the color of the guy to rape her first... we all cum the same color, regardless of our skin. The problem was only because he was the one to play the race card, he made it an issue, just as he was really getting into the rape of adorable little Kaitlyn, he began to talk, forced her to admit on camera that she loved black cock, to beg him to rape a black baby in her. It was all "you repeat what I tell you to" type talk, while he pulled her hair and worked up to leaving a load of evidence inside of her, and her repeating it the kind of thing a rape victim might do just to survive, regardless of whether or not she enjoyed it. Nobody blamed her for it, and even those idiots who might have held it against her probably still would have raped her, given the chance. More likely to, now that she'd been successfully raped. Caution often wins out the first time a girl gets raped, especially in those early days... the prevailing feeling was, let someone bolder take the risk, wait a few days, and if the little girl or one of her overprotective parents doesn't call the police then you can be a little more confident they won't do it the next time, either, or the time after that.

Except, of course, Kaitlyn wasn't just after rapes for her own pleasure, she was trying to dethrone Kayla, start a brand for rape and banish those pink silicone bracelets to whatever dump yesterday's fads go in. To do that, she needed more than just a hot video of her own rape experience, she needed to get someone else raped with her brand. That's where Grace Lo came in. If Kaitlyn was middle school queen, Grace was her lady-in-waiting. Never likely to be queen herself, but the closest thing to a best friend you can get when the queen also gives you orders. Which isn't to say Grace was ugly. No, she was pretty, too, maybe not as pretty as Kaitlyn, depending on your tastes... her glasses and slightly pug nose could either be adorable or push her into the category of 'plain girl'. She was also taller at the same age as Kaitlyn... in fact, probably taller than most girls in her class. People often say Asians look younger but because of her height, I would have pegged Grace at maybe sixteen, despite her fine black hair often being tied up in long pigtails and her much flatter chest. Boobs aren't everything of course, and she had fine legs and a pert little ass. She was something to watch to anyone attending middle school basketball games, she just instinctively knows how to keep balls dribbling. I understand she also is pretty good at the game.

Kaitlyn pretty well owned Grace, in the way kids sometimes dominate each other socially. If Kaitlyn took a dislike to one of Grace's friends, Grace would have to drop them. If Kaitlyn didn't do her homework, Grace let her copy. The biggest surprise for some students when Kaitlyn's 'rape me' advertisement came out wasn't that she'd done it, but that Grace wasn't the one working the hammer in and out while Kaitlyn just enjoyed it to focus on her 'acting.' So, of course, Grace could never take the pink wristband, because Kaitlyn publicly swore it off... or maybe she genuinely didn't want to, it's hard to say. But we do know that when Kaitlyn asked it of her, Grace started wearing a choker that said, "Rape Bait Like Kait," which was a pretty catchy slogan, and an effective one at that. I saw her with it the first day, looking nervous either that someone would take her up on it or that she'd get in trouble with the school administration for a sign more blatant than had been allowed before. She didn't get in trouble at school. But before long, there was another video making the rounds, this one of Grace, with two black men, heads out of frame, one thrusting his cock in her pussy, the other guiding her head to slobber over his huge rod. It looked like this wasn't her first rape, she was naked except for the collar, glasses missing, her hair was disheveled, only one pigtail remaining tied, skin slick with sweat or other fluids, her mascara running like she'd been crying but the tears had dried in favor of grim acceptance of her new role, moaning as her tongue ran up and down a black dick. She looked like only after a couple hours of rape did they finally decide to film it. Or maybe they only wanted to start when she was good and compliant, mind broken by forced rape-induced orgasms until she cared more about pleasing them than whatever happened to her. Like with Kaitlyn, the men asked Grace if she loved black cock, and just nodding wasn't good enough, she had to put her tongue back in her mouth long enough to say it in those words. But they went farther, after one cum inside her pussy and moved off, the other one, the one she'd been using her mouth on, tugged on the choker that advertised her rapeability and said, "I like your collar here. Does this mean you're ready to commit to being a rape toy for black men only, just like her?" Grace nodded, but he wanted a firmer commitment, so he told her, "Say it. Tell everyone only black men can rape you, and then they can watch me rape your little fuck-hole." He handed the girl her glasses, which had a dried stream of cum from some earlier degradation we never got to see, so she could see she was on camera, and Grace wiped her mouth for a second, and said, "Only black men can rape me," and, after a little further prompting, added, "Just like Kait," then spread her pussy lips and let some cum leak out and another round of rape started, which, though entertaining to watch, was tinged by a little bit of sadness at lost opportunities.

Now, Kait had never formally declared herself black-only rape-bait, but her friend doing it for her seemed to connect her brand to that idea, not just in the mind of the rapists but everyone. I don't think Grace was trying to sabotage her, but simply thought that was Kait wanted (though you never know, maybe the meek little girl just had enough of being pushed around and chose her moment for a little payback). Suddenly everyone else she'd convinced to wear her brand on the choker (and there were a few others before the video leaked) was considered 'off-limits' to anyone but the African-American population, and not just for rape but for any sex. A choker-girl could have a white boyfriend, as long as they were strictly celibate and he didn't try to interfere if a qualified black cock wanted to force itself into one of her holes and dump a load of cum. Anyone who tried to break those rules was beaten up, often on video as a warning to others, and it only took a couple warnings before most people respected the choker's new, secondary meaning.

From what I understand, Kaitlyn was very disappointed by this development. At first. But then she decided, when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade, and if life hands you black cocks, well, you might as well squeeze on them till you get all the juice out anyway. More accurately, she realized that her chokers weren't displacing the bracelets, but they were developing their own following, and, if you can't be the brand everyone thinks of, almost as good is to be the brand everyone thinks of for one particular niche. Like sure, everyone wants to be Walmart but if you can't, being Whole Foods is pretty good because you can capture the market of people who are willing to pay far too much for allegedly healthier stuff. Kaitlyn was the go-to name on everybody's lips for black-owned rape-whores, so she decided to run with it, work a spade logo on the choker and go for that market full throated. But for the rest of us, it was a god-damn tragedy to have some of the finest underage pussy in town unavailable unless you want a beating. I mean, there were plenty of other girls as good or better not wearing the choker, so I suppose I'm not too upset over it, but I tell you, letting them have a few prime-quality underage rape whores like Kaitlyn and Grace exclusively theirs had better, finally, totally square whites and blacks for the whole centuries of slavery thing. If you ask me, we're even now.

As sore as I am over it, I totally did not support the response a few days later, those red hats that were supposed to reserve girls for only white rapists. We're a good town but we have our share of racist fucks and that was all their idea. Not that it worked. I mean at this point wearing one of their red hats basically gets the girls wearing it raped by every non-white who gets a chance at them, and ensures they drop the load right in their pussies to breed a biracial baby. In fact, I'd say it's up in the air about which group's going to have more of those, Kait's Black Rape Bait or the Red Hat Girls. Former Red Hat Girls, I mean... you don't see much of them anymore, a lot of them crossed over either to the wristbands or to the chokers formally, maybe because nobody got beaten up for violating the red hat rule except a few skinheads who tried to stop it. And nothing of value was lost. I don't believe any race is superior to any other (even that cock-size thing is mostly a myth, though some of the blacks in our town are at the very high end of the average), but if one was, those guys obsessed with white superiority have never been our best examples.

A few other attempted rape-niches got set up, but honestly it was hard to keep track of too many, which meant most died out... I remember one which was supposed to signify certain straight girls as a being a willing forced-pussy slave to other girls only, which might still be going (it's a piercing, and hard to see unless you're in a change room or gym shower with one, or, in my case, have a niece willing to show just once to explain to me why she can't put on a simple pink wristband, not all the time, just while hanging out with her uncle, for funsies... but no, apparently since she took the piercing she's only allowed to taste cum if it's in another girl's pussy... one of the few such signals you're not allowed to take off once you make the choice, apparently until marriage). And there was also a signal that was supposed to signify a guy's willingness to be raped by a girl... it was called having a penis and not being gay. I kid, a little (asexuality is valid if a bit perplexing to me, and male rape is a serious issue), but I'm pretty sure that no girl in our town ever raped a guy wearing the signal begging for it. Even the girls that were a little more into being dominant (and there are plenty) found that a little too pathetic for their tastes.

Mostly, it was just the pink Kayla wristbands that people saw, not for every girl, not even a majority, but a solid minority of girls who became well-known about town, and Kait's Rape Bait pulling up a distant second.

I've seen some strange fads in my day, but this has definitely been the strangest. I mean, it's rape, right? Sort of, at least. The idea should be terrifying to kids, not a trend. The perks alone can't explain all the girls flocking to it, if they didn't like it you think they'd stop after their first rape. And sure, some girls are just after sex, and are calling it rape to be cool, but even if that's your goal you usually only want it with people you choose, not letting anyone choose you. The only thing I can think of to explain it is the idea that the fad managed to turn rape from something to be feared, some abstract life-destroying menace threatening to hit you at any time, to a known quantity, a part of life everyone goes through, some multiple times. If you wear a wristband, you don't have to worry you might be raped... you only have to wonder when, and how good it'll be. Once you decide to accept rape, invite it, advertise for it, rape becomes almost a game, an exciting game, a little naughty and with some surprising amounts of pleasure, at least with the right rapist. Even girls who don't take the wristband and get raped for one reason or another because of a mistake or sheer desire, those girls can take comfort in the knowledge that what they're experiencing is something a lot of girls enjoy and invite, and it doesn't ruin those girls, so somehow it's not as traumatic when somebody grabs them and forces a cock into their pussy or asshole or mouth. A rape, whether advertised-for or not, might wind up being a lot of fun, or it might be painful and humiliating, but either way it's an intense experience, the kind that makes you feel alive, like a roller coaster... and unlike one of those, you might even get a nice tip afterward! You don't have to worry about being seriously hurt or killed, because virtually nobody has been since the trend began, and there's no shame attached anymore because it's popular as long as you don't snitch. Take your rape like a champ, and you might even be praised by other girls you respect for being 'savage AF.' Or maybe the rapist is described that way, or the rape itself. I'm not sure how the slang works, but either way it's considered a badge of honor to be raped, even if you don't take the wristband permanently. So I guess the fad almost makes sense on that level.

You might legitimately wonder about how parents allowed this to go on, though. The town's collective abandonment of eleven-year-old Kayla as inevitable rape meat is one thing, but once a significant number of other girls started getting involved, you'd think they'd take action. Okay, sure, men are pigs and can often be ruled by their dicks so maybe the rapists don't need to be explained, but most men are protective around their own little girls at least. How could so many people, mothers especially, turn their head and ignore their own children getting raped? Metaphorically turn their head and ignore it, I mean, by not taking the appropriate precautions, although sometimes it was quite literally mothers turning their head to ignore as somebody raped their pink-band-wearing preteen daughter in a movie theater beside them or while supposedly supervising them at a playground or beach or something, and sometimes not even literally turning their head to ignore it, but watching, giving suggestions, masturbating, or even filming and participating, helping their daughter only to the extent of temporarily occupying, with fingers, tongue, or dripping wet pussy one hole that might otherwise be used by another rapist's cock. I mean, that happened, although it was extremely rare. At first.

But, at first, this phenomenon was discrete enough that it was easy to pretend it wasn't happening, and at first not even to pretend. Kids wear stretchy silicone bracelets and chokers all the time, for all sorts of things, even just fashion, so I can totally understand, at first, parents not noticing what the pink one around their little girl's wrists was advertising. But outright obliviousness about what the various signifiers meant only held for so long, and especially when girls wore chokers saying 'Rape Bait Like Kait' you'd have to think mothers would try to stop it. Not Kait's mom, Georgia, obviously... she was the one who had the chokers made and got a cut from every one sold, also deciding to make the best she could of things after being initially disappointed in how circumstances limited Kait to black rapists. From what I know of her, Georgia didn't just support her daughter trying to become the face of rape, she jumped on the initial seed of Kaitlyn's jealousy, nurtured it, made pointed comments to lead her daughter into coming up with the idea of stealing Kayla's spotlight, strategized with her on how, coached her through the video, provided the hammer and then pointedly left her unsupervised for the next few days to let nature take its course, although I bet she was picturing a more diverse set of rapists. Georgia was probably a sick perverted fuck in her own right, getting off on risking her own daughter (I knew her when she was younger, and it would not surprise me), but I think a bigger part of her motivation was simply to enhance her daughter's modeling and acting career... casting directors knowing they could rape little Kait had to give her more work, even in just the low-visibility but highly-paid field of private fuck videos that could lead to more legitimate opportunities like TV or movie roles. That plan might even have been successful if not for Grace declaring herself and Kait as black-owned... there aren't a lot of black casting directors in our area, and the white ones didn't want to risk a beating. But like her daughter, Georgia rolled with the punches, embraced the niche, even started wearing the choker herself. They go out for a lot of rap videos now, weekend long shoots that pay well even if most of Kait's scenes (and Grace's, and a few other girls that Georgia is now the agent/manager for) end up on the cutting room floor. But Georgia's not the best example of parenthood... she was always a little off, probably because she had her so young... it's normal, everyday parents I'm talking about here, the kind who have family dinners and go to the PTA, the good salt-of-the-earth type that makes us such a good town, all things considered.

So how could normal parents, teachers, bystanders let this go on?

I think that all goes back to Kayla. See, as I said, most of the town wrote her off, before the wristband nonsense started, decided to ignore what happened to her because "she asked for it," even root for it to happen. Problem is, once you've made that leap, to allow an eleven-year-old to get raped because she clearly wants it... well, it's like eating that first bacon cheeseburger. You're sure as hell no vegan anymore, and maybe you felt a little guilty because you loved it so much, so what do you do when another comes along, or a burger joint opens up near you? You make the same moral compromises. So when other girls started advertising "I'm with Kayla" most people put them in the same category they consigned that little girl to, now that the category existed. For other people's kids, at least.

For the kids you genuinely care about, you wanted to protect them... but let's think about how you do that, for something like this? Once you know the wristbands sure, forbid your daughter from wearing one. So maybe the little rapebait you raised slips it on her wrist when she leaves for school and off again before she comes home, makes sure to wash away any semen stains and makes up excuses about competitive soccer games if she's walking funny or comes home late with unexplained bruises. You accept this because, obviously, your daughter's not one of those sluts asking for a rape like other girls, you raised her right, didn't you? Maybe you have doubts, but you push them down.

As long as you have faith your little girl isn't one of Them, you can even think of the growing perverted trend as a good thing... beyond the obvious advantages if you choose to partake yourself. In either direction, since plenty of adults started using the wristbands or chokers or other signs, on their own terms to get the experiences they crave but tell themselves they shouldn't want. Men aren't the only ones who like a little illegal fun with kids so young the law would call it a felony, but who's felony is it if you're just going about your business enjoying a simple fashion trend, or showing your support for a local celebrity who's been unfairly isolated, and a young teen boy, brimming with hormones, that you happen to find yourself alone with, pushes you down and rapes you? Certainly not yours. Maybe it cancels out, nobody's felony. And if you're a female teacher who wears the band, what are you going to do, not give detention to the handsome fourteen-year-old troublemakers (and members of the Huntsmen club) that you have in your class? That would be forsaking your duty to mold these minds and provide discipline and even with some of the younger kids, if it's a particularly rowdy day and you've got four or five boys in detention to supervise, just enough they could totally overpower you if they get the wrong idea about what you mean by wearing the wristband, well, that's just the risk you take teaching. Better you than some girl, though sometimes you have to bring one of them along to detention, too, you can't show favoritism. These are all hypothetical examples, and I'm not pointing any fingers, especially not at your neighbor, Mrs. Culpepper (who by the way, if you see her, tell her that her class would like to wish their best on her maternity leave). Not to mention, the tips probably help out a lot... we just don't pay our teachers enough. Or maybe you aren't a teacher, maybe not even interested in younger stuff, but wear the wristband in public to attract a certain type of grown man, you still might appreciate that it was the young girls who started this trend and don't want to move too much to stifle them.

But say you don't crave rape for yourself, either giving or getting, and trust your kid to be like you, you still might convince yourself the trend of girls wanting to be rape bait's a good thing to have going on. Even the bands themselves even make a sick kind of sense... sure, it's advertising, but once people know that plenty of these girls are out there, letting them advertise that fact is kind of important, so nobody mistakes your girls for one of Them. Clamp down on the wristbands, the chokers, the obvious signs of who's on what side, and what do you get? Word of mouth, or anonymous Internet posts revealing that so-and-so wants to raped, and who knows if they actually do or if somebody just had a grudge against them? But if there's a visible signal, and you trust in your kid not to wear one, then you know they're safe... mostly safe anyway (mistakes, as I said, happen). After all, any monster who would rape a nine-year-old girl is obviously going to go for one of the little baby sluts wearing a wristband that implies she wants it and wouldn't tell on him, rather than your perfect nine-year-old who you never see wearing a pink bracelet. Knowing that, you don't have to watch your good kids obsessively and feel safer letting them run around alone, like kids used to in better days.

And for many in town, they're absolutely right about their own kids. It's a trend, but only a minority go for it (not counting those who just wear the wristbands around specific people they trust, at least, which I have no way to measure). It's certainly not most of the town girls, though sometimes it seems like it, it's just a solid chunk, fewer the younger you get (though there's a weird statistical bump right around 12-13 where girls not wearing something advertising their availability almost get to be the minority... the numbers also starts rising again for adults starting in their late twenties but it's not as consistent a trend and by this time parental reaction is irrelevant), so many parents are fully justified in their faith and trust in their own kids. But not all of them, and some are absolutely wrong about which kid they need to watch out for. And kids may want to, but they're not the best at hiding the evidence of repeated rapes (smells are a giveaway that kids neglect most, I find... so's a pregnancy, but that takes a few months after starting the bad behavior, some kids tip off attentive parents by smell the first day, or a little later by regularly laying out cum-soaked ten dollar bills to buy something they shouldn't be able to afford on their allowance). Nor are rapists always so careful when they've gotten used to getting away with it and they see their favorite rape meat out and they don't notice that she's not wearing a bracelet because it's not a good time with parents nearby (or because they're someone else entirely who looks close enough, as Lorelei discovered). Then of course, there's also tattling from other kids, siblings, fellow parents, even rapists with pangs of conscience. So, inevitably, some parents come to the shocking realization that their little girl is Like Kayla. Significantly more parents come to what should be an equally shocking realization that their boy has become a rapist, but a lot of time the attitude there is, as long as it's with a pink-wristband-girl... hey, boys will be boys.

So what does one do when they discover their child's been wearing the band, maybe already getting cocks thrust in every underage hole anytime someone can pin her down, maybe just endangering herself with the possibility to look cool (especially in the early stages of this whole phenomenon before the Huntsmen, when rapists were more shy and focused on the impossible dream of getting Kayla). And assuming some parental disappointment and a firm talking-to doesn't stop the behavior, of course. Sometimes it does, although sometimes a less ideal compromise is reached, for example, like Tina Crichton, who agreed to swear off the wristband, and get on The Pill, only if her parents allowed her big brother to sexually enslave her at home and rape her there all he wanted, and never interfere, even if it was at the kitchen table during dinner... or if he brought friends over. That boy got popular real quick, although he's a bit selfish with her. But back to my point... if all that other stuff fails, then, pretty much your only options are to lock your daughter down, take her out of school and isolate her like Kayla was (which few wanted to do, seeing how hard it was on Nicole), try to move your family or daughter out of town (which some did, though many couldn't, and that is no guarantee the behavior will stop in the new town, it might just spread like a virus), or find some way to live with it. That doesn't mean giving up, surrendering your daughter to rapes, but like a lot of parenting, accepting that there is going to be trouble and just doing your best to minimize it and the negative consequences, punish bad behavior when you catch it, prevent what rapes you can and trusting the school and police other organizations to do their best the rest of the time.

And they do their best, they really do. Sure, a lot of rapes happen at school, but that's just because it's difficult for a limited staff to monitor everywhere a rape might happen, especially if nobody reports it until after. But when they catch a rape in the act the protocol is to report it and issue detentions or suspensions or parental advisories (sometimes that's the best thing, to impress a young rapist on the dangers, send him home and let his mom know so she can fuck with his mind by putting a bracelet on herself. Of course, sometimes that backfires, too). It's reasonably safe during school hours... by about ten minutes after the school day ends the most vigilant of staff goes home and so, then, something might happen in detention and the protocol let slide, and the Huntsmen tend to be free to drag a girl to one of their meetings... but during the school day, itself, rapists are taking a risk and it's pretty rare outside of bathrooms and isolated corners during recess and lunch. Which I guess isn't that rare, all in all, but at least it doesn't interfere much with education, the school's just making the best of a bad situation. Some people disagree, considering the dress codes, and, sure, those have gradually significantly relaxed for girls wearing bands or chokers, but there's a good reason for that, and they still insist on some standards. For example, for those in wristbands or chokers (hats too, before it was decided that it was a hate symbol), skirts must extend to, when standing up straight, at least half an inch below the ass if no underwear is worn, and at least mid-ass if you're wearing underwear (and, for all this liberality, thongs are strictly forbidden except in the last year of middle school and in the high school). And shirts can show belly or cleavage but must in all cases cover the nipples (though mesh, which is presently only allowed in middle and high school girls, is typically considered 'covering' the nipples, even if they're visible and blatantly poking through fishnets... it's the principle of the thing, you can't allow underage girls to be topless in school, after all... for a similar reason, the top has to wrap around the body, so just tape-on-the-nipples isn't allowed, although I understand that's up for reconsideration at the next board meeting). More importantly, they do make sure everyone else, the kids who haven't chosen to wear a sign inviting rapes, wears a wardrobe conservative enough you'd think we weren't a town with a rape problem at all. Girls have to wear pants or skirts that have built-in shorts, shirts tucked in, and can't even show a bra-strap much less a bra, and no makeup allowed at all. Boys likewise must keep covered, though there's not a lot they need to keep covered, and they can unzip pretty quickly if a good opportunity presents itself... the main rule is not to have your cock out where somebody in authority can see it.

There's a lot of good reasons for these different rules for the school's rape-bait population. Firstly, the theory is, the rapes are impossible to prevent, they're going to happen either way, so they might as well allow them to happen with as little disruption to the educational process as they can manage. Cum wipes easily off skin but sinks into clothes, so why not let them minimize the amount of clothes they can stain? Not to mention the time for the rape itself, if it's going to happen, it's agreed it's best to happen as quickly as possible. During a switch between classes, if a rapist does get a chance to pin a girl down alone somewhere unobserved, he can just secure her, bend her over, pull a thong to the side if she's wearing one, ram his cock in her pussy, fill her with cum, then both can be back to class, before anybody saw them and had to file a report, whereas a normal, conservative girl, it's an effort and probably not worth the risk. Slipping a wristband on the hands of someone against their will is also much less likely to work, or be believed, if the girl doesn't dress the part of her own choice (not that it isn't tried a couple times a month). The school's overworked and it has to prioritize the town's good girls.

Police are overworked too, and they too, do their best. Do you know how much paperwork a rape accusation brings with it? That's probably why, as long as it isn't happening blatantly in public and is at least in an alley or behind a few bushes (I believe the unofficial technical standard passed down by the Sheriff is 'as long as it's not visible from sidewalk or street at a distance of more than 60 feet', which allows it to go on in cars or if there's a big enough crowd of observing onlookers), if a cop encounters a grown man, or several men, stuffing a little girl full of cock, even if she's clearly several years below the age of legal consent or even a few shy of puberty, he's liable to just clear his throat (or tap on a window if it's a car) and wait for them to reposition and show off her neck or arm for a choker or pink band. Maybe if they're especially by-the-book the officer might ask that the rapists take their hand off her mouth or clear her throat of the cock halfway down it, so she has a chance, if that is the case, to say they put the bracelet on her, she's not REALLY With Kayla or Like Kait. If she doesn't, and everything looks in order, the cop might supervise to make sure nobody gets actually hurt, but more often than not, let everyone get off with a warning rather than filing charges. That might seem to some people like a horrible abdication of their responsibility, but all police everywhere have to manage their resources in the fight on crime. It's just like how if a town had a drug problem. Lots of good towns these days have opioid problems, or meth problems, but they're still good towns, most people behaving well most of the time. If cops went and arrested every drug user, they'd never get anything else done, so instead they focus on where they can do the most good, tackle the worst offenders and the people who can't keep it under control. Our town has a bit of a rape problem or maybe an underage slut problem, but the same principles all apply (I mean, there's also a slight drug problem, and I suspect those first rapists to cross the line were in the grips of it, but we're better off than most towns). It doesn't mean we're not mostly a good town, and it certainly doesn't mean the cops are doing nothing to combat the problem, they just pick their battles. And like with drugs, sometimes the cops get a little dirty... I know a few who won't just supervise but join in, maybe not with outright rape, they're still officers of the law, but getting the little fucktoy's permission, under the theory that if a girl is too little to handle one more cock (or eat a little pussy if it's Officer Travis), she's obviously also too young to be doing this sort of thing without her parents knowing. Of course, if it's an adult woman getting raped with a wristband they probably won't even bother asking permission. Still, even though sometimes they fall to temptation, I assure you, if a girl or her parents choose to file a formal complaint they absolutely do make arrests for rape, and sometimes people are even convicted. One of the black guys in the video with Grace is in jail now... not for her, mind you, but because he mistook the choker on another girl for being a Like Kait choker (depending on your viewpoint that's either evidence that the system works occasionally, or that blacks are more likely to be punished than whites for the same crimes). However, for some reason, more and more these days, even good parents who know their daughter has been raped, and know who did it, often make the decision not to put their daughter through the prospect of a trial, feeling it would only victimize their child again to no benefit. I can't imagine why, but I believe in the justice system... sure, we have to make sure the defendant gets a fair trial rather than convicting without reasonable doubt, but that's how justice works. So maybe you count that as giving up, but it's one reason out of many why exhausted parents just look the other way (metaphorically and sometimes literally).

Sometimes giving up's probably even the best call, every parent or teacher knows that kids can be stubborn as hell and sometimes when you forbid something things backfire and they'll do it to spite you. Like with Bailey Collins. Sweet little thing, came late to the wristbands but fell hard into it with the enthusiasm of a convert. Thirteen, tomboyish, previously only seen in jeans and fun t-shirts, and with her undeveloped chest and short dark hair could have been mistaken for a slightly-shaggy boy if not for her girly face with luscious lips and green doe-eyes, and of course her tight ass and puffy pussy when she finally started showing them off. Her BFF Suzanne Thomas took the band first, and after a couple weeks watching her friend enjoy rapes from the sidelines (both literally and metaphorically) Bailey got curious enough to try it... or maybe she just wanted to connect with a friend she was losing touch with. She knew her mother wouldn't approve, but Suzanne convinced Bailey to just try her wristband on while spending time for a sleepover, which of course got Bailey raped by Suzanne's stepfather (I mean, I assume, I wasn't there and Dave never bragged, so maybe it wasn't him and the two girls snuck out and got her raped by a neighbor or something). After her first taste of rape, Bailey started wearing the wristband on her own on a regular basis. Always slipping it on outside of her mother's sight and off again before she got home, and likewise did what a lot of girls did, changed clothes in the bathroom to take advantage of the better dress code policies for With Kaylas, seeming to revel in looking girly for once, loving short skirts, no underwear, even makeup which made her look like a little whore, especially when it started running from a particularly aggressive rape. Everyone at school knew what she was (especially because she like sitting in class with her legs spread) but her mom had no clue, until Bailey got caught getting ass-fucked by the dumpsters during the lunch hour. That was usually a relatively safe place for an unobserved rape but one of the female teachers needed a smoke, saw the two high school Huntsmen on the wrong campus, one holding Bailey's upper body pinned against the dumpster while the other shot a thick load in her colon. The boys were out of the teacher's jurisdiction, so she couldn't punish them (some say she didn't want to, and punishing Bailey was only because the little girl got the rape she was hoping for herself), but she followed protocol and reported the incident to Bailey's mom, Ruth, and held her after school until she could be picked up, still wearing the short skirt, no underwear, sports-bra top, and forbidden pink bracelet, and that was that, secret blown. What followed was a mother-daughter tug of war over her increasingly outrageous behavior and what was to be done about it. A single mother with no close relatives can't go the full Nicole route, so isolating Bailey 24-7 wasn't an option, but Ruth did what she could, what she thought best, taking Bailey out of school, grounding her, and forbidding the wristband with the promise that Bailey would be sent to an out-of-state boot camp for troubled kids if she ever wore it again. That was a bad move for two reasons, it was a bluff (those places are expensive and not all parents can afford it) and sensing that, Bailey pushed back hard. One afternoon Ruth was out, and Bailey was grounded, but snuck out and over to the home of a local high school dropout (or rather flunkout, since it was because of grades, not choice... since this started, fewer and fewer boys willingly drop out of school, so you see, there's is some benefit to our town's problem). In addition to selling drugs, this young man had started making a little extra cash doing stick-and-poke tattoos for friends. Bailey got "I'm With Kayla" and "Rape Me" tattooed permanently on her wrist, paying for it with the virgin pussy of her ten-year-old sister Brooke, who she was supposed to be home babysitting, a responsibility her mother thought would keep her out of trouble. Ruth was wrong on that call. Brooke's identical tattoo, Bailey paid with her own pussy (it was a discount since Brooke was younger and it needed less ink). That permanent branding of both her daughters in one afternoon broke Bailey's mom's heart, and worst of all, it happened just before the two were due to spend their monthly weekend with their father. After that weekend, their dad successfully sued for full custody (even though he's only the biological father of Bailey, he's on the birth certificate for both), using the incident as an example of her parental negligence. Now both girls are back in school and proudly wearing the slutty outfits and wristbands (for long distance visibility more than anything else, since tattoos are forever). As for Ruth? She's a lonely drunk, at the bar night after night, constantly bitching about how her ex is now pimping out of her darling daughters to his poker buddies. I don't know if that's true or not, but there's now a waiting list to get into his regular Tuesday night game, and the girls are noticeably sleepy-looking in class on Wednesday mornings. I do know at least three guys who got on that waiting list after a one-night stand with Ruth that included listening to her complaints, which sometimes seemed less like complaints and more like suggestions.

So you can see how sometimes parents might have trouble making the decision of how hard to fight this trend when their own children are caught up in it, like some even think if they see their daughter going this way it might be better to just nudge her into being Like Kait because then at least the pool of potential rapists is much smaller (indeed, she'll be actively protected from some of them). Another particularly hard choice arises when only one of your kids is going down this path, and you might be able to save the other, but you have to decide if the right call is punish it heavily so the other one isn't tempted, or let it slide and focus on protecting the 'good' ones who are still inclined to follow their parents instructions. Equally hard to figure out in advance is if your good ones are the type who are more likely to stray if you give the bad ones any extra attention at all, or if ignoring the bad ones entirely might give them cause to outright corrupt their siblings. That happens too, not every time, but at least in almost every permutation, not just sisters being tempted by the fun their sisters seem to be having, but boys in the Huntsmen raping their little sisters until they like it enough to start wearing a wristband, and at least one sixteen-year-old With Kayla who decided she needed to train her geeky little brother to be a good rapist and build his confidence. Andy is more confident now, but still a geek, and he corrupted Jess too, a little... she's is now a regular at his middle school D&D club (one of the few places where a girl can be raped without even a wristband as long as her character is being raped by another player or a monster played by the Dungeon Master at the same time... they can leave the game at any time, so I suppose it's not really rape, just good roleplaying). So maybe that one didn't work out so bad... at least, it could have gone far worse. Every family's a little different and you don't always know what works for yours until you take one path and risk the consequences.

That's our town in general now, full of tough choices, ones not everyone makes correctly, but it's still a good town, mostly. I think so anyway... got its problems, but I can take it. The ones who couldn't, moved away, or go so deep into denial it's almost sad. I know one woman who swears the town changed overnight a few weeks ago due to some magical curse after she put a suggestion in the church suggestion box that the town should offer moral support to girls like Kayla. Ridiculous, her daughters had both been blatantly wearing the wristbands for months, and I've never seen a suggestion box in our church, but she's got this idea if she can find it again she can undo it all. I guess madness makes a good escape for some. The rest of us just try and get by. Church helps, no magical box and not just things like confession, but lately the sermons have been particularly guilt-assuaging for those who finally decide to make a difficult choice and just let their daughter be raped on a regular basis if that's what she seems to want, or are on the precipice of such a decision.

Which brings us back to Kayla. Now, for the longest time, that little girl that started all this had no idea what an icon she'd become, or that all her dreams were coming true for other girls her age. If she did, she might have pried up the nails on her windows, slipped out, gotten raped by the first guy that recognized her, or maybe a crowd, or maybe she'd escape them all and find that little delinquent doing the stick-and-poke tattoos and gotten a poke and a tattoo as well and maybe some drugs to boot to make it a really memorable experience. She wouldn't need an "I'm With Kayla" tattoo of course, but maybe just "I Am Kayla, Rape Me." But she didn't know enough to want it. She was kept isolated, from the Internet, from her friends who could not be trusted, and though she may have seen the wristbands and chokers on rare excursions she didn't know what they meant. And despite having many other perverted options available, everyone I talked to still wanted to crack that nut, or nut that crack. But for the longest time we had no luck at all, subsisting on the dream and the occasional masturbation video from undiscovered hidden cameras (which, let's be honest, are like any celebrity porn, far more interesting because of just who's involved than on its own merits... she didn't know she was being filmed, so she doesn't make any cool poses or elaborate dirty talk... often you couldn't even see what we all wanted to drown in cum, just her rubbing a spot under her panties).

Her mother Nicole knew about the growing rape epidemic, but probably not the full extent of it since she had lost touch with most of her friends, either because she could not longer trust them not to be trying to use her to get to Kayla, or because she simply didn't have time to keep up the relationships while watching her. But because of what she did know, Nicole shielded her daughter even more carefully when they went out from that than actual rapists, steered her away from anyone wearing a wristband or who might mention them, which was growing to be more and more people, and leaned more and more heavily on Grandma Martha to watch Kayla while Nicole did necessary errands. She still had some hope of moving, eventually, getting some money from relatives to make a start in another city (some of those offers came with kinky strings attached and even some of those were getting considered for the sake of her daughter), but all of those ideas would come to nothing if Kayla herself hadn't changed. Cursing the sex-obsessed media for luring her daughter into this lifestyle, Nicole started on a last-ditch effort to deprogram Kayla through withdrawal, giving her nothing but wholesome entertainment, which mostly meant Disney movies.

That stopped when they started to be the focus of Kayla's disturbing comments. Ever since her interests were revealed in front of them and the whole town, she felt a little more free to say whatever dirty thought came into her head. Not to shock, I think, but it wasn't like they didn't know what she was into, or that they could punish her much more than they already were so she was free to be herself, more. Sometimes it might get her sent to her room instead of being able to watch TV, but most of these interjections her parents tried to ignore, even early on when she might say, for example, that someone on TV looked like he'd be a particularly fun rapist and punishing her by not letting her watch made sense. Grandma Martha would punish something like that with a spanking, but Walter either sent her to her room or pretended he didn't hear depending on his mood and the severity, and Nicole mostly just ignored it regardless. Maybe she thought her daughter would become less interested in saying such things it if she didn't react, but by the time they went on the all-Disney diet, her random voiced thoughts started getting significantly weirder. Like when she asked if Nicole thought Robin Hood, the fox from the 70s Disney version, had a bigger cock than the lion, Prince John, or the wolf Sheriff of Nottingham, because otherwise why would Marian want to be with him rather than one of the others who were more likely to rape her rather than treat her with respect? Or when she asked if the TV producers ever let Bolt rape Penny, because he thought he was the hero and even heroes need to rape a girl now and then, and every dog needs a good bitch. Both of those were ignored without comment, and probably shouldn't have been, but Nicole just didn't know what to say and with no one else in the room letting it slide seemed the best course. The final straw was after Zootopia, when her father asked at dinner what she thought of it, and she said she wished she could be Judy Hopps because then when animals went savage they would just rape her, and it might be fun to be raped while someone's pulling on your bunny ears or lifting your butt up by your poofy tail, going on excitedly on that theme while she ate her food, seemingly oblivious to the inappropriateness of fantasizing about being raped by anthropomorphic animals while at dinner with your parents, and finally Walter slammed his fist on the table and told her to go to her room without finishing dinner.

After sending her away, her parents stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, before having the conversation that would finally let the town get what it wanted... at least if they had it significantly earlier. It started as a joke from Walter, or a remark carefully given in a tone of voice that he could claim it was a joke, to break the intolerable tension. "Look, it may be too late to keep her from winding up as Rape Bait Like Kait," he said, for like all fathers he wasn't entirely hip to trends and didn't realize the more specific implications of that particular brand, "but I'll be damned if my daughter winds up as a goddamn furry. I'll rape her myself if I have to."

He expected a reaction from his wife, a look of disgust at best, screaming at him at worst, but sometimes married couples need a screaming match just to let out the demons. "You're not raping our daughter," she said, but with a curious lack of passion, that made Walter even warier of a trap. "It would be totally counterproductive to have her first time being with your mediocre cock."

"What's wrong with my cock?"

"It's fine, Walter. That's the problem, it's pure middle of the road. She's already had a bigger and better cock inside her, even if it was made out of rubber. If you rape her, it's not going to quench her thirst, it won't even make her think the reality can't live up to the fantasy, because she'll know there's better out there. And let's face it, you'd probably be too gentle with her, you can't even bear to spank her butt." And with that, Walter relaxed a little, figuring he got off light for his comment, a little insult about his manhood, but a gentle one. Until Nicole went on, "If we're going to let her get raped, we need to choose people who'll do it effectively. And that means we need to get on the same page about whether we want to fulfill her dreams with the most satisfying possible rape, or attempt to scare her straight, so to speak, with a rape so bad she won't want to be near men ever again afterwards. Either way, I have ideas, but we need to decide what we want for her to narrow down exactly who gets to fuck her."

Walter's fork hung suspended between plate and gaping mouth for a full ten seconds, before he managed, "Wha...?"

"Personally, I think we should go with option A. In order to scare her enough it might have to be really violent and painful, and I don't think I have the heart to do that to her, even if it might save her later. It could wind up scarring her for life, or worse, she might like it. Either way, I'm not sure we can trust the kind of person who could do it that way not to hurt her too badly or to stop at just one rape. And even if the plan works perfectly, and does turn her away from wanting sex, who knows how long that might last? Potentially forever, Walter. Then she might not ever want to have kids so, if we ever want grandchildren we better be sure to choose someone who can knock her up the first time, and schedule around that. On the other hand, if it's a rape she enjoys, sure, it might get her to tempt a lot more people to violate her little body, but we can monitor the situation, keep her on the pill, and hope she eventually just gets tired of provoking rape and finds a good boyfriend and a normal life."

"Wait, are we really talking about this?" Walter asked, and I don't entirely blame him for suspecting it was some kind of trick.

Nicole just shrugged, and even sounded like someone who was just tired of fighting. "I guess so," she said. "I've been thinking, a lot, lately, about what Reverend Chapman said."

"That we should let him safely convert Kayla to normative heterosexuality before she goes down the path of lesbian debauchery?"

"No, more recently than that."

"That the best thing for everyone might be that a group of godly men should really rape the devil out of our little girl and save the town's soul in the process?"

"No, more recently than that. The stuff about Lot."

"That Lot's daughters really didn't do so bad by having sex with their father, they founded two whole dynasties out of it and more girls should follow their example?"

"No, just before that. The part about Lot being the only righteous man in Sodom, despite him offering up his virgin daughters to be gang-raped." It was a common theme in sermons lately, a new look at a classical Biblical story as a parable for what was going on in the town. You'll hear it soon enough if you go to church, and, of course, so will your kids, but to give the short version, the biblical canon is that, Lot offered up his daughters to a rape gang to protect two angels... and they were his virgin daughters, too. Given the time period's beliefs about marriageable age, and how lustful the town was, that likely meant they weren't much older than the age of puberty, yet he offered them up to the mob, though they didn't take it, all fired up about angel booty and accepting no substitutes. Clearly he was willing to go through with it though, and this still rendered him worthy enough to be saved from the destruction of the city. So, clearly, the theory went, God's divine judgment is that allowing your children to be raped, to protect angels at least, is morally good, and aren't innocent children something like angels themselves? If you let people rape your children to protect other, more innocent, children, you're probably doing what God wants. I've talked online with other Biblical scholars who've claimed that's bullshit, heresy even, and even moreso is his theory that God wanted Lot's daughters to get incestuously pregnant because otherwise He would have prevented it and wouldn't have gotten Lot's salty wife out of the picture. Most also disagree with his speculation that the Lot family incest almost certainly happened more times than mentioned in the Bible and with daddy's full consent after the first two nights and God's implicit sanction, or his reasoning that the incestuous children of Lot had to be smart, righteous, mighty and charismatic to each found a whole people named after them, even if those people later went astray. I'm no expert, so I don't know who to believe... I just know Chapman's interpretation is remarkably persuasive to people who want to believe in the general theory that it's possible for our town to still be holy, sanctified, righteous, even if all of us were like Lot and even if we enjoyed a rape now and then or had sex with our daughters or fathers... as long as we worshipped Jesus while we did it, repented afterwards, and took care to leave the innocent angels among us alone. Chapman's favorite line is that if Sodom was full of people as righteous as Lot, it wouldn't have been destroyed but instead would have been a second Jerusalem. He's even suggested changing the name of the town to Lot's Jerusalem, or Lot's 'Salem for short, but I think that was a joke... you'd never expect it, but he's also a big Stephen King geek.

"Okay," Walter said, after Nicole gave her justification for opening the rape talks, "But let's not forget that Lot's daughters had sex with him."

I can understand Walter focusing on the regular good-daughters-bring-your-fathers-beers-until-you-can-talk-them-into-fucking-you-by-the-way-condoms-are-still-wrong part of the sermon, even though it was a more recent addition (and, I believe, influenced by the church administration, who are laymen, no pun intended), but it sure looked like Nicole was ready to give up on protecting Kayla, which, to me, was a far more exciting development. "Maybe we can discuss that later, if her appetite for rapes is more than we expect, but we're not starting there, Walter. But you still haven't answered, do you agree with me that we should make her first rape a good experience rather than a bad one?"

Well, the man had just been teased with the possibility that if Kayla still liked rape, her daddy might be allowed to do it, so what do you expect, he said, "Yes, absolutely. I still think I could provide a good first experience though."

"No, you're not thinking. What if it winds up not living up to her fantasies at all? If you do it, and she regrets getting raped, don't you think she's going to hate you? No, we can't be directly involved. Not in the first one, anyway. We just need to choose who's going to do the job, and find an excuse to leave her alone with them, and let nature take its course, and we can pretend we just had no idea what she was up to. If she's still happy afterwards, we can tell her we set it up and see what happens."

"Her birthday's only a few weeks away, we could claim it was an early birthday present and save some money."

Nicole's eyes rolled, but she said, "Sure, Walter. Anyway, I'm thinking five is a good number of men. We'll start with men and if we need to experiment with women and family afterwards, we'll consider that, but five strangers, or passing acquaintances, that seems like a good first rape experience. That way she get every hole filled at once, and can be stroking a hard cock with each hand at the same time. Any less might leave her wondering if she missed out on part of the full gang rape experience, any more and we can't trust her rapists not to get out of hand. Any suggestions on who?"

Seeing an opportunity to fulfill a promise made under blackmail, Walter suggested, "What about that girl Lauren's father? You know, the one who was the model for the dildo?"

"Yes, Frank, good call. I was thinking of him too. We know Kayla can handle his size, he knows how to be rough but not too rough, and he's got enough stamina to make the rape last long enough that Kayla might cum."

"Wait... how do you know what Frank's 'stamina' is like?"

"Don't act all offended, Walter. Yes, I've been fucking Frank. But you've been fucking his underage daughter for long before that. At least in my case, it was an honest rape, every time I've visited him. Which, if I understand, you promised not to stand in the way of, if he got the chance. Well, he got the chance when he told me that. By the way, don't get your hopes up about little Lauren's child actually being yours, either, I get raped by another guy who swears it's his, but Frank did get your promise, so let's put him on the list. Now, I think we're also going to want someone with a really, almost absurdly big cock, just so Kayla doesn't feel like she's missing out on anything. And we should include some diversity. Luckily, I know a guy who fits both categories, and who I think can be trusted not to hurt her with his big black cock. I could barely fit half of it in my mouth the first few times and..."

"The first few times? Jesus, Nicole, how many men have you been fucking around with? And how often?"

"Look, I spend all fucking day watching that girl, I need some 'me time' too. Sometimes I just need to leave her with Grandma Martha and spend some time in the company of adults... it just turns out that a number of my adult friends like to rape. It's only a few times a week, and at least everything I do is perfectly legal. I don't sneak over to Frank's place while I'm supposed to be working to fuck a pregnant twelve year old, like you do, I just go to visit him or someone like him, and happen to get raped... sometimes while a pregnant twelve-year-old watches. Or sometimes I need a walk in the park after dark, and what happens, happens."

"Bullshit, you've been wearing one of those wristbands, haven't you?"

"I never said I didn't. What, do you expect me to not wear a wristband in support of my own daughter? It's only been very recently though. I got curious, what can I say? But if it'll set your mind at ease, I've only been raped by a dozen guys at most, maybe a few times each. And back to the issue at hand, Mike is the biggest, but he never pushed more than he had to in order to get the head in. Any part of his black horse cock that I couldn't fit in during the rape without wincing he was happy to let me just use my hands on to get him off. I think we can trust him with Kayla, as much as we can trust any child-rapist. If he even is one, I've never seen him actually raping a child, so, another point in his favor."

Walter obviously didn't like it, but a lot of the fight had gone out of him when he realized that some of the biggest secrets he'd been keeping from his wife weren't really secrets after all, that she could go to the police with them just as easily as Frank could, and to top it all off, the conversation they were having looked like it might lead to a better status quo than the one they'd been living since the fateful day of Kayla's speech. So, he agreed, and they discussed who would make up the rest of Kayla's first rape.

No, sadly, I was not on the list. Even with everything that happened after, that still disappoints me. But I was hardly the only one disappointed. The remaining three rapists-to-be were a father and son team (Nicole wanted someone closer to Kayla's own age, so they chose a high school freshman in the Huntsmen with a father she knew from the park), and they decided, fuck it, why not make some money off of it. They'd hardly be the first family to do so... not only is there Georgia and Kait, and probably a few I don't know about, there's the Cockburn Bed and Breakfast which is so expensive but mostly because Tom and Lucy Cockburn make a point of leaving their guests alone the first night, with only their wristband-wearing daughters to serve any needs required, both for the men and women, and return only to serve a hearty breakfast in the morning... even if it's desired in bed with one of girls. In that same spirit, knowing firsts are rare and valuable, Walter and Nicole made the last choice one of the town's wealthier citizens who would be willing to pay well for the privilege. That settled, they went on to discuss the best way to go about that rape, but by that point I was already wallowing in sorrow and pouring myself a sad glass of whiskey over not being picked, not even being considered.

I was hardly the only one disappointed, once word got out that this was finally happening, Kayla was finally getting what was coming to her after turning our town upside down. Which meant I was wanted for another reason. I've always been a little bit of a techie nerd. Lots of people tried to put hidden cameras in Kayla's house, during the open houses, but mine were the only ones that didn't get discovered pretty quickly (I have a secret, and I'd tell you, but then it wouldn't be a secret). I didn't just limit myself to Kayla's bedroom like most people, but also a couple other key rooms in the house, just to be thorough. What, how do you think I knew those private conversations?

Now I tried to keep my success there relatively quiet, I didn't want people pestering me for up-to-the-minute updates so they could plan their perfect rape... if anyone was going to do that, I would. I might have even warned the family about somebody hiding in the house, pretending I was watching from outside and never noticed them leave. It was one reason I was disappointed that I was never considered, after all I'd done to help them... you might call me a hero. Or maybe you think I'm just a pervert obsessing over watching a little girl. But I wasn't obsessing that much... mostly, I just kept it as a little hobby, fast-forwarding through footage for anything that looked juicy, sometimes watching the live feed with dinner (which was how I caught this particular conversation). Still, I couldn't resist sharing with a few people, especially when I got some particularly hot footage, and so once the people chosen for the big debut rape were informed and began talking to their friends, sooner or later somebody I told and somebody they told got together and they came to me with a plan... wire up the designated rape den with cameras in advance, capture Kayla's first rape on tape (I still claim Lauren was the first, but 'Kayla's First Rape On Tape' does have a better ring to it). What's more, go one better... so many people wanted to be part of the event, but Nicole and Walter were pretty set on limiting it to six people (counting Kayla), and so the idea came about, and snowballed as ideas sometimes do, first of having a party to watch the proceedings live, and then quickly jumped to doing a semi-private live screening in the town's movie theater. The theater's owner wanted to witness the big debut just like everybody, and rented it for free in exchange for some of the ticket sales.

>>25830
Was...was this whole story a fucking Stephen King joke? Oh, you magnificent bastard.

I thought it was just going to be a handful of perverts wanking in a dark room, but demand was high enough that we actually had to discriminate. That happened almost naturally, because the people we planned to leave out were the people who were least likely to hear the gossip anyway... but the plan quickly became to restrict the event to locals only, no out-of-towners, even near-neighbors to the town who frequently visit to enjoy our town's rapebait girls, like kids from the college or residents of that pedophiles-on-parole trailer park a few miles away. And of course, we didn't want any of the small percentage of local killjoys who had a problem with the town watching a young girl's first rape. We just wanted the real hardcore Kayla fans who were here since the beginning. And kids, of course, some brought by their own parents, some just brought. There was no cover charge for underage girls, but they were only allowed in if they wore a pink wristband (which also meant that anyone who wore the Like Kait chokers had to be open to all that night if they wanted to watch the show... sadly Kait herself, as well as Grace, refused to come and they were the only ones I was interested in, and besides, I had to be up in the booth making sure everything was set up so the show could run smoothly, so I couldn't get distracted with a fun little pre-show rape like others did. To keep undesirables out, we had the theater's marquee list Great Expectations, since that's what everybody had for the event, and movies based on classic books tend to bomb in our town. From what I hear a few passing tourists wandered in accidentally, thinking it was the real movie, got admitted, and had an eye-opening experience, but they turned out to enjoy the feature without any complaints. The rest of us, having hyped it a lot longer, it was a much more mixed experience.

It's not my fault. Though I'll confess, from a cinematographical perspective, the movie was not the greatest. I mean, it was basically like editing a live multi-camera shoot and I was not a professional. I had to flip between cameras on the fly and sometimes chose the wrong one to go live, sound dropped out, and sometimes there were just no good shots. Out of courtesy to our performers, except Kayla, I tried to position the camera at her-eye level, so heads wouldn't be in the shot (I planned, if I eventually released the full video, to edit it more thoroughly so none appeared, but live, it happened from time to time and it was a good thing nobody there cared). Not the best viewing experience, but that wasn't what everyone was complaining about by the end of the night.

Here's how it went down. I waited patiently for a signal from my man inside, which he only gave when Nicole rang the doorbell, and then, boom, showtime, the lights went down, the digital projector flared to life, and we went live, interrupting who knows how many rapes as people settled down to enjoy what they came there to see.

They'd talked about setting this up so Nicole didn't have to leave at all, starting the scene by giving her a drink, and then pretending the drink was drugged, but they ditched that plan, apparently worried Nicole couldn't fake drugged slumber well enough, or maybe they just felt inhibited raping a little girl with the mother right there watching through the barest slit in her eyelids. Instead, the pretext was the same--that they were there to pick up some new homeschooling resources from Lauren's dad, who happened to be running a poker game at the same time--but with a plan for a quick exit that leaves Kayla under untrustworthy supervision. Some of us in the theater snickered a bit at Nicole's bad acting (she didn't know the camera was there, to be fair, but we wanted one on her face in the doorway so there was no doubt she was in on it) as she faked an emergency phone call from an old friend who had fallen off the wagon and was taking drugs in a bar and needed Nicole's help, and then asked Frank if he could watch Kayla for a couple hours while she sorted it out, since obviously it was no place for a young girl. Kayla's eyes widened when she made the request, and by the time he promised to take care of her and her mom was swiftly instructing her little girl to do everything these men said and not cause trouble for them, those adorable eyes were practically bugged out of her head. I never did figure out if she caught on to what her Mom was lying about and why, or just realized what could happen for a few hours along with men (and one teen), finally without any supervision from Mom. But Nicole got out of there and sped off, possibly really to a bar to drown any remaining second thoughts about leaving her daughter to get ravished in every hole.

Frank invited Kayla from the foyer into the main living room where all the men watched her eagerly, silent at first, and finally, Frank took a second to go back and close the door behind her, deadbolted it, returned, and knelt down beside the girl, put one arm around her to pin her to his side, and said, "Well, looks like we're left alone with a sweet little girl here. Her mother has entrusted us with a lot of responsibility, and obviously it would be wrong to continue playing poker with her here, so let's find something most of us can enjoy."

"Maybe it's just me," said the only man there who paid to be there, "But I think we'd all enjoy raping the little girl until her Mom comes back."

"Hmm, there's an idea. Let's put it to a vote. All in favor?" All the hands went up, except Kayla's which were held tight against her body. "Sorry kid, looks like you got outvoted," Frank said, and shrugged and let go of her. The group of men who'd all voted they were going to rape got out of their chairs and advanced, pulling off their clothes, as she nervously backed away towards the door behind her, but found no escape, unable to reach the deadbolt before the first of them grabbed her.

The group had a moment of uneasiness as the rape actually began in earnest, since Kayla actually did fight a little, which made her rapists seem hesitant, and many of us watching uncomfortable. She was a far better actor than her mother, at least, her "No, you can't," was believable with a nervous tremor in her voice, her arms flailing at anyone getting close (and yet failing to hit anywhere they could do any damage), and her attempts to slip past people and find another exit before they grabbed her did look convincingly like distress. I was briefly tempted to just cut the feed, and I think if I did, only a few people would have complained. We're a good town, and seeing a little girl getting sexually assaulted without even a pink wristband on her wrist still makes many of us instinctually uneasy, maybe even more uneasy than when the trend started. In some ways we've been conditioned that a girl without one of the signals is truly innocent and untouchable.

But then one of the cameras caught an excited smile when she thought nobody was looking and the theater seemed to let out one collective held breath, relieved that this was okay after all. Someone even yelled, "Look at that little bitch, she's loving this," which caused a ripple of laughter. As for her rapists, I don't know if they saw it, or just decided that at this point, they were committed, and soon pinned got each of her arms and legs locked down and under complete control.

They pulled off her clothes one by one, ripping off her underwear for dramatic effect (sadly, the shot was spoiled, but we got a good view, a few seconds later, of a finger being forced inside of her). After getting her warmed up for a minute or two, they pushed her head to Frank's cock first, popping it inside her mouth, and a black cock moved in, slapped along her face until Frank made room, and she got just the head of it inside before they pulled away. The young Huntsman, Todd, fifteen, was chosen for the first anal penetration, but only a few seconds after the wealthy patron, who had already paid for rights for the first vaginal rape (and had been watching the oral initiation with a sour look, like he felt entitled to that too) inserted himself. One she was settled on the root, Todd, who'd been holding her from behind got inside her ass. The thrust together while the other three held her legs apart and covered her mouth. Neither of the first two lasted long, which might have been another reason they were allowed to go first, but the next cocks inside of her were there a lot longer, although they took a minute or two break first, to force Kayla to watch the cum leak out of her pussy ("It's so thick and gooey" she said with wonder and surprise), then one of them scooped it up to wipe it on her face to show it was slimey, too, before taking another turn. Sweet little Kayla was tossed around like a ragdoll at times, but always with surprising gentleness.

They got even more gentle after everyone had at least one good cum, including Mike, who didn't get to fully insert his monster cock fully anywhere, but did jack off the head in her pussy just after Kayla experienced the sex position Nicole wanted and requested, every hole filled at once and both hands jacking off cocks. I don't know it's got an official name, but I like to call that position the Lovecraftian Starfish. But shortly after that, they stopped doing the 'pin her arms and legs down' type of rape, and moved into the 'just order the girl to do degrading stuff and she will' kind of rape, the kind of rape a lot of wristband-wearers and Huntsmen were used to. They still play it as rape because they can tell themselves the girls were afraid, but really, at a certain point, they just like serving sexually for anybody who demands it. So the lucky five had Kayla orally clean their cocks in turn, then masturbate herself to orgasm with a beer bottle, mostly as a show to get them excited enough to rape her another round, then had that other round, usually one on one, with the others sometimes contributing a finger or a grope or a slap on bare ass, and a lot of dirty talk, calling her a little rape slut, baby fuckmeat, or other such endearments, extracting promises to not be so hard to rape in the future (well, she promised to try), and so on.

In the theater, things had calmed down some by that point, most people who brought company got a good rape in watching the Lovecraftian Starfish, if not earlier, and blew their load in whatever girl was convenient... a few girls were raping each other, just for something to do, and some people were starting to leave. But even those who did soon heard about what happened when Nicole gave a familiar and yet at the same time very unconventional motherly check-up call. I suppose it's only natural for a mother to get nervous with her nearly twelve-year-old little girl left alone with five men, even if she did send her there to get raped by all of them, and so Mike noticed his phone buzzing on the table, briefly left the room, and then came back a minute or two later, phone in hand, still on. At the time, Kayla was getting a father-son double-team and her fingers working her clit to nearly another orgasm. Mike let whoever was on the other line listen to one, and the groans of the two emptying their loads inside the little girl, then, after they pulled out and Kayla was catching her breath, face down in the carpet, he said, "Hey, Kayla. You're a little rape whore, right?" She only answered with a nod, so Mike asked her, "Say it, say you're being a good little rape whore for us tonight."

"I'm your little rape whore tonight. You''ll have to tell me if I've been a good rape whore."

"I think you're a real good rape whore. This is all your fault you know... you really were asking for it."

"Uh-huh."

"But honestly, did you like us raping you tonight?"

What followed next were not the words anyone wanted to hear. "It was okay. I mean, I had fun, I guess."

She didn't sound traumatized, or uncertainly trying to please, she looked like someone who'd been waiting ten years for a new Star Wars movie and while it was good, it wasn't as mind-blowing as they expected (I know that look from the mirror). But you know, some girls take a while to warm up to rape, they get tricked or peer pressured into trying the wristband or do it just for the perks, and it takes getting a few mind-shattering rape orgasms and the excitement of never knowing for sure when the next one is coming, to really start to love it. Kayla loved it before actually trying it, but a lot of people right then, myself included, were thinking maybe it worked the same way.

Frank must have been thinking along similar lines, and he was a parent himself, albeit not a very good one, so he tried to reassure her. "It's okay, my daughter didn't like the taste of cock at first, and in fact the first few times having sex were a bit of a chore for her, until she started to really get into it. Believe me, a few more orgasms on a real live cock..."

That's when Kayla interrupted and surprised everyone, but perhaps no one as much as her mother on the other side of the phone. Her face visibly brightened as she said in the most chipper voice you can imagine, "Oh, I've cum plenty of times from a real live cock. Just not human ones. They're a little disappointing. I mean, dog cock is much more fun! The bottom swells up into a knot and I can even get stuck on it if I've been a really good bitch."

That got the whole theater's attention. Men sleepy in their seats, sat up straight and some even took their fingers out of the girls on their lap. We all also heard Nicole's tinny "WHAT?" from the phone, but it was closer to the mic than Kayla, and she didn't, because she went on, "I think animals are much better at raping a girl than humans are. I mean, I've only tried one animal so far, but I like it way better already. It's just so much more exciting and degrading, you know? I think it's their natural instincts taking over, but when an animal mounts you really feel owned, you know?"

I thought this town was unshockable, but you should have seen that crowd, parents frantically covering their children's ears like an F-Bomb being dropped at a Baptist event. But this was the girl who turned on a huge chunk of the town's young girls to being willing free-use rapebait. She was, for us, the face of rape, and now she was excitedly promoting the virtues of bestiality as even better. It's like if the one-and-only Ronald McDonald went on a live McDonald event and announced they really like Burger King more... no, wait, Burger King doesn't really capture the degrading depravity of bestiality. More like Arby's. Can you imagine? It'd be worse than if the clown was caught fucking children. Speaking of, I should tell you some time my theory Ronald McDonald finally did lose control and rape a kid, until the corporate Gods cursed him by transforming the kid into the shapeless, genderless, Grimace, named after the face he or she made when Ronald came inside, and forced Ronald to take care of the monster as punishment. I know that seems unfair to the kid, but that's the kind of thing Gods do, it's like the Greek Gods punishing Medusa for her rape. I guess it's more of a fanfic than a theory. Shit, sorry, I went off on a tangent again, didn't I? Bad habit. That's why the schools mostly call me in to substitute for Math classes... I can do the others, but I wind up going off on tangents. Nothing? Okay, never mind, I'm too used to joking with the kids in Mrs. Culpepper's class.

What wasn't a joke was the anger, not just Nicole's, but the theater's, and most of that was directed at me. A lot of people thought I was holding out on them, that I knew about Kayla's bestiality experiments, must have gotten them on tape, and either were pissed that I hadn't warned anyone that Kayla might announce something like that, or that I was hoarding some outrageously kinky video, or both. The town might not have liked their daughters to hear about those kinds of activities, but plenty wanted to see them for themselves. But I swear, I didn't have any of her dog sex experiences. The only tapes I kept absolutely to myself were some bathroom tapes, because I'm old-fashioned enough to believe a little girl should have some privacy while on the can instead of having the whole town watching videos of it. People didn't believe me at first, though, and I was having a hard time believing it myself, wondering if maybe Kayla made everything up, to shock the guys raping her, maybe to shock her mother who she might have guessed was listening. When I got home I went back over old footage and noticed something I never noticed before and realized that I missed out on the video of Kayla's doggy rapes because I didn't think to put any cameras in the garage. I mean, who'd expect I'd need to?

I didn't pay too close attention to those hours of footage where Grandma Martha was in charge, because she was a boring old prude... I thought. But every so often, either because Kayla said something outrageous or sometimes just dressed inappropriately, or sat the wrong way, or sometimes for no visible reason at all, Grandma Martha said she needed to teach her a lesson, and marched her into the garage to "get some screws sorted out." I'd seen the march to the garage happen, once, but I paid it no mind. I'd had punishments like that, too... I mean, not the forced bestiality that Kayla went through, but when I got in trouble, one of the things my parents did was send me into the garage with a pointless chore, like, yes, sorting a huge jarful of mixed screws by size or color or head-type. That's what I imagined went on under Grandma Martha's supervision, but apparently my imagination was sorely lacking. The woman was training a little girl, her own great-grandchild, to be a doggy bitch right under everyone's noses! Kayla hung her head on the way to the garage like it was a punishment, but I never noticed, until I looked for it, the slight bounce in her step or the way the dog's tail wagged on their way into the garage, or the way Kayla's hair was always messy coming out. I guess Martha chose there to do it in, because it was easier to wash away any evidence of dog cum than in the house, on carpet. Or maybe she just thought it was more degrading for a preteen to be mounted by a mutt on a dusty concrete garage floor. Nobody can ask her, anymore.

She did confirm what she did, though, just before her death.

I saw that happen, too. It was the very next day... shortly after this revelation the party ended, Nicole arrived to drag Kayla home, not even bothering to let her dress or even gather her clothes, just pulled her naked into the car. I have no idea what conversation happened there, but I imagine Kayla at least confirmed that it wasn't just fantasy and that Chekov was the dog who fucked her (and really who else could it have been, the way Nicole kept her isolated). So, the next day, Grandma Martha was called to account.

Kayla wasn't there at the time, thank goodness. Once a girl's been gang-raped twice (I count the girls, after all, though not everyone does) and expressed a preference for bestial rape, it seems little silly to keep her on such a short leash. No pun intended. I think at that point they'd given up even more than the first time they did... they were probably also hoping that if she got raped a few more times she might give up on this new fetish. Regardless, for the first time in forever, Kayla was out enjoying time with friends. I don't even know if she got raped that day, but it was a beautiful spring day, nearly summer, so I imagine she had some kind of fun.

Not having fun was Grandma Martha, who showed up with Chekov expecting a babysitting job, only to find Nicole and Walter waiting for her with grim expressions and a "We need to talk." I don't know if they were playing nice, or if Kayla followed through with her earlier promise never to snitch on a rapist, but they didn't come on all accusatory at first, but framed it more as a failure of supervision, that Kayla somehow had been having sex with Chekov, not that Martha had stripped the girl naked in the garage, forced her on her hands and knees, and manually guided the dog cock into her pussy.

But a guilty conscience is ready for an accusation, and hers assumed that's what it was no matter how gently and non-confrontationally it was phrased. "Yeah, well, so what, I was trying to teach her a lesson! You raised a demon child, not me, and then you called me to clean up your mess. You sure as hell weren't trying anything except the soft-hearted approach... at least I tried something! What did you expect me to do when she needed discipline? Spanking clearly wasn't getting through to her... the bitch liked a whupping too much. Liked being a bitch, too, but at least my way calmed her jets down for a while!"

"You had your dog rape our daughter!"

"She can't get pregnant from it, and it was a last resort! Don't act so sanctimonious, you never cared what I did as long as my methods were working. And they were, some! You even complimented me on how well behaved Kayla was after I took care of her. That's because when she talked about how she wished she could get raped, I didn't ignore her like you do, I washed her mouth out with dog cum so she knew she couldn't get away with saying inappropriate things. Or her cunt for driving her to sin. Sometimes her ass, just because it was hilarious when they knotted up."

"That's sick!"

"Sick, shmick, haven't you ever heard of tough love? A girl her age needs discipline, so I gave her some. It would probably have worked too if you two didn't baby her! Always has before! I only had to make your Mom gargle mutt jizz a couple times and it kept her mostly out of trouble."

"Oh my God, Mom? You made my mom fuck a dog too?"

"No, I never had to escalate to letting Scotty actually hump her." I guess Scotty was her dog in those days, and she was following a theme in names. "Because she learned her lesson and knew she couldn't act out, she was able to control herself and save herself for a guy who could support her. Maybe if she let me do it to you, too, you wouldn't have had your wild teenage years and married this fuckhead."

Walter said, "What did I do, you kinky old bitch?" and that's where the screaming match started, Martha blaming both of them for poor parenting leading to Kayla's speech, and not being aggressiveness in dealing with it after, accusations tossed around all over, including that Walter wanted to molest Kayla, which was true but still the kind of accusation you fight back against, and in the confusion both Walter's rape of Lauren and Nicole's cheating got brought up, not by Martha but she used it for ammunition, and, at some point, Nicole threatened to call the police on her grandmother. That's when Martha grabbed her chest and fell over.

Because she landed perfectly, comfortably even, on the couch, it took about a minute before they realized she wasn't just playing for sympathy, and it's possible if the two had called 911 right away she would have survived, but I think it was just her time. She may have been a tough old broad, but none of us last forever.

As stipulated in her will, Kayla got Chekov. Or maybe the dog got Kayla. Kayla never even heard about the fight, was told just that Grandma Martha passed (the girl's tears were heartbreaking, even though, or maybe because, the woman regularly raped her with a dog), but she seemed happy when she found out that Grandma Martha wanted her to take care of Chekov. I think Nicole agreed to that out of guilt more than anything else, blaming herself for the fatal heart attack because of the threat she made moments before her grandmother keeled over. It might not even count it as a threat... she just said she 'should' call the cops on her, not that she would, but she probably wouldn't, considering her own activities. It probably seemed pretty scary to Grandma Martha. I'm pretty sure the old lady, who had few living friends and spent most of her time not watching Kayla home alone watching cable news and court shows, had no idea how much the town had changed, or what the wristbands and chokers the young people were into signified, and might well have panicked herself to death at the suggestion that she'd be publicly accused of the things she'd actually done... but I don't think there's any sense in laying blame.

Still, Nicole's guilty conscience left a preteen girl, whose biggest goal in life is now to be sexually dominated by animals, alone with a dog and two parents who have given up expecting any more out of her. Sometimes just straight up alone, because Nicole chose to go back to work. So they let Kayla do what she considers her 'duty', being sexually available to Chekov 24/7 at home, not even bothering to hide it from her parents anymore. The most discipline they've imposed on her is to make sure he's not horny when she takes him outside somewhere, so he doesn't hop up on her and mount her in the park in front of everyone. It's not like they're fooling anybody even without an obscene performance like that. Everybody knows what she's into now, and whenever she takes Chekov out for a walk, Kayla always wears a matching collar to his, and a short skirt, usually with some kind of animal print. Dalmation or zebra, usually, which Chekov certainly is not, but they don't make Doberman print clothes. I guess she figures it's close enough... and if she does encounter a male zebra, she's ready to attract his cock. But while over the summer it's become a common sight to see her walking through the park dressed like that, collar, skirt, and nothing underneath the skirt (often topless too), like she's announcing to the world that she's Chekov's bitch and he can if use her if he chooses... it's been pretty rare for anyone to actually see public copulation between the two. She takes good care of him at home. Less rare is video of it, of course... by now most of the town's seen Snapchat videos of her getting stabbed from behind by Chekov's obscene veiny dick, the animal humping away, or of her sucking on it, usually while Kayla's got a "puppy face" filter running on her own face, and they've gotten around... she's sent dozens of them out to the people most likely to share. She's got a sense, now, of how influential she's been with others in the town, and she's got a yearning to evangelize her new passion. And since she's not isolated from the other kids anymore, that's tendency is freaking a lot of the town out.

So now you understand the problem with Kayla. What do you do when over a quarter of the young girls in town are wearing "I'm With Kayla" wristbands, but Kayla's mostly moved on from rape to being an all-around animal bitch? Does the brand transcend the one who started it and keep its original meaning? Or does wearing it mean anyone wearing the wristband has to act like Kayla, and if Kayla likes animals to rape her, the With-Kaylas have to as well? Is there any way we can find an exceptional human rapist that might be able to turn her around? We've struggled through that for the whole summer and so far we've had no luck on that, but, obviously we're going to need to take some kind of action, as some girls are making the jump to animals already. It'd probably be more, but there just aren't that many male animals who haven't been fixed. Yet. But the ones following in Kayla's footsteps and a lot of girls are asking for dogs as a birthday present, which makes it look like the start of a worrying trend. These things can snowball fast. I don't want the town to go this route. I mean, I was so looking forward to Halloween! Little girls coming door to door in skimpy costumes, begging for candy, and knowing that if one had a wristband and you liked them you could just throw her over your shoulder give candy to her friends, and take her in your house for a trick? Not to mention previously untouchable girls who decide to put on a wristband as their costume for the year. All of that's at risk and I'm scared we'll see nothing but mutt costumes. It probably doesn't help that for the new school year, 'I got raped' stopped being an ironclad excuse to get out of schoolwork or tests, except for a first timer (it still excuses lateness and absences, but the latter only if the girl's snatched and kept by a rapist the whole school day, and who has the time or energy for that... anymore). On the other hand, 'I got raped by a dog' has been counted as a separate first time for anyone really needing an exemption (though it has to be rape, either forced by someone else to do it or the girl happened to be bending over without underwear in front of a dog and getting mounted... just convincing a dog to fuck her gets a girl nothing, at least not in any of the classes I sub for).

At least not all's lost yet. Kayla still will take a rape from humans... Chekov discourages a lot of them, because he's very territorial, but now that summer's over the girl's back at regular school and he's not allowed there (yet), so people do get a chance and Kayla seems to like it (especially if you treat her like she's actually a dog), but you get the feeling she's humoring us and we need to do something drastic soon or we're in danger of losing a lot more of the girls, some to bestiality, some to clearer signals like the Like-Kaits (which is in some ways worse, to anyone not black), and some to just trying to go back to being a normal girl, having reached their limit of kinkiness. Parents, too... Reverend Chapman may be able to justify incest and child rape biblically, but bestiality is trickier. A minority, sure, people might look the other way or enjoy watching, but too many get into that and the parents'll pushback a lot harder on the wristbands as a whole, and we might lose the whole fragile setup, and some people might say that's a good thing, but if you ask me, we'll just be left with a lot of men who've grown used to being able to rape and no distinct group they know they can get away with raping, which puts all our town's innocent girls at more risk. You can see how that would be a bad thing... I mean, you don't want innocent children to suffer, right?

Good. Because there is one idea we've come up with, and that's why I'm telling you this. We thought, maybe we can start a secondary brand, for bestiality, that people can either wear along with the wristbands or independently. We haven't gotten all the details yet, maybe just a dog collar, but that's a little too blatant. Someone suggested something like a necklace with a queen of clubs symbol (because, if you squint a little, it resembles a stylized animal paw print), and maybe we'll go with that, but we have a bigger issue. If we go with this plan, we might be able to salvage the pink wristbands, but... Kayla can't be the face of wanting-to-be-raped anymore. She needs to pass the torch. I've already talked to her about it, and she's agreed, if we find somebody, she'll make some big public handover to her and take up her new animal-whore brand (I mean brand like brand name, not a literal brand, although Kayla is remarkably excited about that suggestion when we explained the distinction). Of course, I did have to sell her on my idea of the handover, order her this kinky dog fetish outfit, and also promise to abduct her for a weekend trip to a farm run by an old friend of mine, so she can have fun with pigs, ponies, and goats.

All that's left is to find somebody to publicly profess their desire to be raped, and update the name on the wristbands, which is why I'm here. I understand you have some very attractive daughters. Oh, don't look so offended at the idea. We know you stayed at Cockburn bed and breakfast when you were househunting here and enjoyed their full hospitality. I'm good with hidden cameras, remember? You left your own daughters at home that visit, and maybe you consider them off-limits, but you still moved here. Well, we're not asking YOU to rape them. And really, we only need one of them, you can leave the other as your little angel, if you want, and you know what this town gives up to protect little angels. Both of them would be better, if you're open to that. A pair of sweet sisters would make for good brand leaders, because we can do fun things like use slightly different shades of pink to market one side of the brand a little raunchier and another for classier rapists, or for promoting the younger one, say, as Family Fuckmeat, only ready to be raped by family members, at first... or to advertise the distinction of one girl needing to be tied up or restrained first and the other just doing whatever's ordered. There are lots of possibilities, if you're willing... but I'm a reasonable man, I understand it's probably too much to ask to let us use both your daughters. Surely you can meet me halfway and spare one, though? Every parent with more than one kid's got one they secretly know is going to be useless for much else anyway. We need somebody for this, and we really need it to be a fresh face. If we choose someone who already wears the wristbands, it's just going to cause resentment among the others, and whoever we pick, they need that certain star quality that your daughters have.

I realize it's a lot to ask, I do, but it's not even as big a sacrifice as you might be thinking. You can even keep your rapebait daughter isolated like Kayla was. Maybe that'd even work better, in fact. All we really need her for is a short speech and one, big, public gang rape. And a few smaller ones beforehand, just training, to get her accustomed to cocks and make sure she responds well, has some good orgasms, and makes it look appealing when the big moment comes. Maybe we could even try out both of them for a night and just go with whichever one takes to it best. You can't always guess that in advance, and that way you don't have to personally choose one over the other for the role, which I can understand might be difficult.

Whichever one it is, she might enjoy the spotlight, the spectacle of the whole thing. Our plan is, we're going to do it at a football game's halftime, just like when Kayla gave her speech that started all this. She'll give a new speech, introducing our new face-of-rape, one of your daughters, hopefully, as her hand-picked successor, maybe hint that they recruited her to come here specifically for this (a little white lie never hurt anyone), have a chance to talk a bit about moving on to her own brand because she likes being treated like an animal. Then the new girl will give a speech announce her love of rape by humans, then a few lucky raffle winners will get to gangbang her on stage, and Kayla will let her dog mount her while she wears her full fetish getup, furry ears, snout with a ring-gag, paws, and a buttplug tail, plus whatever we choose as her brand identifier, to try and win converts to her point of view. It won't even be a full rape, it's mostly just for show, fifteen minutes tops. They might not even cum in either girl and there'll be police supervision to make sure they're not really hurt, and in fact everyone will be doing their best to give your daughters an orgasm and make it look more appealing than Kayla's way. Everyone will have a good time, we'll make our point, and everyone can enjoy the rest of the game. After that, order a new load of wristbands with a new name, maybe we give your girl a 'Rape Me' tattoo where a wristband would go (since the face of rape doesn't wear one herself, that's just for the people declaring they're 'with' her), and then you can lock her up in her room till she's eighteen if that's what you think's best. Nobody's trying to tell you how to parent. Suggesting, maybe, but the ball's in your court.

So, what do you say, are you going to help our town out of our Kayla problem? We can try and find someone else, but this is a great way to make a good impression on your new neighbors and help protect the innocent girls left in our town. Please, won't you think of the children?

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
"ALSO CAUTION: Real rape is really, really bad. Sex with children, too. It may seem insensitive or in poor taste, to deal with those issues in anything less than a serious light, or indeed to use fantasies along those lines for sexual gratification, when real people suffer from them, but that's the thing with fantasy. I can decide for the purposes of the story that everyone raped enjoys it and nobody is seriously harmed. In reality, real people are involved and horrible things really do happen that never should happen. The only way I can imagine living with those horrors going on in the news every day is with fantasy, to safely play with the horrors, prepare for them, cope with them, laugh at them, fap to them, or tame them, if only in my mind. Sometimes even to deal with the all-too-human urges to join in with the horrors, to safely purge them so I can be, in reality, a better person. Fantasy's an incredible tool for all of that, and more, but you're better off not being around a tool if you can't use it properly. In this case, that means confusing it with the real thing. Especially don't confuse enjoyment of a fantasy for endorsement of the same acts or attitudes in reality. This is true whether you're dealing with a video game where mindless violence really is the answer, or a story where you're meant to enjoy children getting raped. And, though we all need our breaks from reality now and then, we have to go back to the real world eventually... be good to each other while you're there, that, too, makes it a little more bearable." - AnonyMPC

you’re the best there is

Another year, another year without any hint of MPC5. Oy vey.

I know you don’t usually do follow-ups on the PP tributes, but given the role that Tumblr porn played in inspiring The Problem With Kayla, I’m hoping the recent adult content ban has given you some ideas to play around with.

Is this one of the 3/5 chanboard stories mentioned on the asstr general update?

>>25903
he only recently came out with Could Be Worse, Gotta Support Your Team, InstaDad, and The Problem with Kayla. So those could be 4 of 5, or three of them could be 3 of 5, depending on when he wrote the update.

I'm alive.

So, been out of touch for a while, for a number of reasons, but the biggest is that I suffered the most sudden and complete HD crash I've ever had.

Thanks to spectacular luck, I only lost about 2 weeks worth of actual writing, since I recently backed all up that elsewhere (as tempting it might be to blame lack of progress on major series people are waiting for on that). Of course, it took more than two weeks to make up the work, and the crash slowed me down in a variety of ways, from having to get back access to my email and various other accounts (some I've still not gotten back but I've got the major ones that relate to my erotic writing), to clawing my way back from the losses the crash caused to other, non-writing work. Which means, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint people who think I'm back with a load of new work and continuations to long-dormant stories.

But I'm alive and it's time to post something, even if it's just something quick and not my best work just so I can post with a little more than just the bad news.

Sandra's Sitting Service (Mg, prost, best, oral, preg)

Hi there. I'm your neighbor. Well, from a couple floors up, anyway. My name's Sandra. Can I come in? Wait, I guess it's 'may' I come in. Since obviously I 'can.' See? I just did. But now that I am, I guess I don't need permission. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, that's what my Uncle always says.
What? What do I want? Oh, lots of things. A new iPhone, concert tickets to... oh, right now, right, sorry. But it's not about what I want, it's what I can offer you.
No, silly, I'm not selling cookies. But you are close. See, at school... I go to the middle school across the street? Anyway we've been doing a unit on the economy, and how it works and everything. They invited some business leaders in to talk to us what it takes to start businesses, to launch an idea, attract interest, keep it all going, because it's not just important to attract customers, you've got to keep them, too, and deal with competition, and so on. It was supposed to lead into our annual school fundraising drive, you've probably seen the school carnival and bake sale and all, but you know, not everyone likes those silly games or baking, so one of my friends put in an anonymous suggestion that maybe instead all of us could do whatever businesses we come up with and see if any of them is better for fundraising for the school. And I guess they really liked that idea, because that's what we're doing this month... we're all supposed to find something we can sell in large quantities or a service people will pay for and make as much as we can with it. Whichever class makes the most at the end of every week gets a pizza party, and the best businesses at the end of the month will get a permanent booth in the carnival.
Yes, exactly. I'm here to pitch you my business. I call it Sandra's Sitting Service. I'm Sandra by the way, I think I already said that. What's your name?
Oh, that's okay, it's not that kind of sitting. A couple girls are doing babysitting but I mean that's kind of last century you know? Not much money in that, and it's so slow.
I'm glad you asked. See, for a reasonable fee, I'll sit anywhere you want.
What's not to get? You tell me where to sit, and I sit there. On a couch, on a high stool, on the floor. But laps are the most popular option. Lots of people love to have a cute little girl sit on their lap. You do think I'm cute, don't you? You'd better say yes. Thank you, that's so sweet. You know, people say I remind them of a certain famous actress. Go on, guess. No. No. No, but I'll take that one too... my hair's too dark for people to remind me of her but I can see it. Mostly they say I look like Mila Kunis. I mean younger, obviously, like from even before she was a show in the 70s or something? You see it? Well, whoever you think I look more like, wouldn't it be worth something to have a cute young starlet lookalike sit on your lap?
Oh, how can you say that? You haven't even heard my prices yet. Now, for a basic sitting, it's very reasonable, five dollars for ten minutes of sitting. If it's on a lap or anywhere involving touching someone, it's twice as much. Ten minutes minimum charge. That's a steal, at a dollar a minute... though if you want me to get up partway through you still owe me for ten minutes.
Just like I said, I sit where you want, like, on your lap. Maybe I bounce a little, if something makes me feel antsy.
Okay maybe you don't think that's a good deal, but I assure you, I am a quality sitter. Here, let me show you a sample picture. There, take a look at this. It's what I use to sit with. Cute underwear, huh? With the little cherries? That's not what I'm wearing right now, mind you... these ones I used for the sample pictures got super popular, and sometimes in this business things get a little messed up, and, to make a long story short, I don't have any cherries anymore. But they'll still be cute... right now I think I've got cute corgies on. If you want to see them in person, you'll have to have me sit somewhere you can look at them I guess, but pictures aren't a big deal. Here, this next picture I pulled them up, made it more like a thong, so you can see the cheeks better and I can try to sell you on spending just a bit more money... just imagine these babies plopped down on your lap. Your lap if you want, anyway, if you pay ten bucks. I mean, I'll sit wherever you tell me to, so I could also sit on your face if you're into that. Still ten bucks, but I might let you go a little over ten minutes depending on what you do with your time.
That's your call. I'm just selling my sitting expertise. What you do while I'm sitting is none of my business. You could paint a picture for all I care, though taking photos and video would be an additional charge and touching's only allowed if you paid for that, but if you have, you might as well get your money's worth. Now, if you're doing something that really hurts, I might stop and refund your money, but a good business wants return customers, so I'll probably just sit through whatever, and just watch a video or something on my phone until your time's up. I don't judge and I don't talk, we're bound by sitter/sittee confidentiality. Yes, that's totally a thing.
Well, okay, there are a few rules. Like, you can't move any of my clothes out of the way. And, if you get a stain on any of them, there's an extra charge to replace whatever it is you messed up. Any kind of stain. Like I said, what you do while I'm sitting on you is your business, maybe you want to eat Cheeze-Its, or do, you know, something else that can mess up my outfit. But I told you, I've ruined a lot of good underwear on this job, not to mention some really cute skirts and some fun tops, so I need to charge extra when customers can't keep it clean. And I like to wear brand names, so those charges can really add up if you can't control yourself.
Of course, if you're worried about that risk, you can try one of my premium options. They're a little more expensive, but there's less clothes to worry about so you don't have to worry so much about being dirty.
No, I'm not a stripper! Sheesh. What do you take me for? Some of the kids in Mrs. Sayer's class are doing that to raise money, but that's a little low-class for me, dancing and taking off my clothes for a bunch of perverted guys... and besides, tips don't count for the contest and that's where strippers get most of their money. I'm pretty sure they're turning in their tips and just saying it was what they charged... the school's really not supervising this very well, and some people just have no self-respect, cheating like that. And, anyway, middle school stripping? Why offer a show you could get better at any strip club? I mean, I know I don't have much up here but even I've got more than most of the flat-chests in Mrs. Sayer's class. No, I'm offering something unique, the joy of a girl, maybe young celebrity lookalike, sitting in your lap. Just some of the premium options for that don't have clothes on the girl, that's all.
Let me show you your choices. See, look, this is what could be sitting on you with the Deluxe Sit. Still a cute little skirt and top, so you will have to be a little careful about staining, but no underwear, and if its just my legs that get messy, I can wipe them off. That's thirty dollars for ten minutes... at these higher price tiers it's going to be the same whether you have me sit on a chair or lap or anywhere else, so you might as well go for a lap or face sit, but that's up to you. Now, for fifty, you get the special All-Natural Sit. You don't have to worry about my clothes at all, because I just won't wear any. You could get me messy all over and it wouldn't be a big deal as long as you give me a place to clean up. Want a sample picture? See, here from the back... and from the front. Now, see how I don't have any hair down there? I want you to know, I CAN grow it, I mean, I'm practically a teenager already, I just shave it for customer convenience. Especially when I'm doing face sitting... I mean who wants a bunch of hair smushed up in his face? Or her face.
Sure, I sit for women too. In fact, it's mostly women who hire me for face sits. No, I won't tell you who. Sitter-sittee confidentiality, remember? But I guess women get more lap sitting naturally, so they go for the more exotic experience. And then there's the ones who hire me to face sit on their sons or husbands, to teach them about how things work down there for girls, you know, really get an up close look and smell and even taste. You'd be surprised at how many don't know, even grown men. Of course, plenty hire me to lap sit for their sons too, even paying for the Ultimate Package.
I'm glad you asked. The Ultimate Package is a hundred dollars for ten minutes, but it's the package where the customer truly comes first. I'm pretty much completely in your power. You can choose the clothes I wear, and you get insurance for any staining on any clothes you do choose to use... of course the all-natural way is always an option if that's what you like. The Ultimate Package gets you unlimited free selfies or video of your sitting experience, which you can get me to take and send you later or you can do it live on your own phone, like a director.
And like a director, you can tell me things to do... you can tell me to bounce more, or less, spread my legs more, lift them, whatever you like. And of course, you can still choose exactly where I sit, too, and you can be a little more daring there, too... in fact, if you're worried about something getting crushed, the Ultimate Package also includes a special Snug Storage Service where you can put something inside of me. For protection. I've got two spots that are great for holding onto stuff while I'm sitting.
Anything you want. A hair brush, a personal massager, a remote control. Or, yes, a particularly sensitive part of the body. Get it out of the way of my especially bouncy sitting. If it fits. I have to approve it first. It's called Snug Storage because there's not a lot of room.
Maybe I can fit that, yeah. But I'd have to see yours up close to say for sure.
Oh, wow. That's a little bigger than I was expecting. I'm sorry, my Snug Storage Spots can stretch quite a bit, but I'm still not sure if either of them can fit a monster that big. I'm not saying "No," but... I don't know. Even if I could, it's going to be especially snug, maybe too snug. You know, it might work, maybe if it was, like, all slicked up somehow before we try? Luckily, I can offer something.... Yes, of course for an additional fee. That's what they taught us in school, it's called upselling. Now, for two dollars I can rub some cream on it before you put it inside, for five I can put on a rubber covering that's covered with a slick goo, or if you'd prefer, for a little more, there's a special all-natural service that will probably make it slippery enough to jam it in, or try our best anyway.
Eww, no, I'm not putting that in my mouth. That's disgusting, and it's probably no good for my braces. However, I can call my little sister down here to do that, I call it the Slick, Spick and Span Service. She's only nine, but she's good at that, her tongue slobber will make sure to keep things slick and slippery whenever you get too dry, and it can get me wet too, right in my Snug Storage Spots, and she'll even clean up after, and make us look all spick and span again at the end of it, all for twenty dollars. She doesn't attend my school so I can't just make her do it as part of the charity fundraising... I have to actually pay her to do this, that's why it's so expensive. But you only pay for the Slick, Spick and Span Service once no matter how long I'm sitting for you, and you get it whenever needed, so it's really a good deal. Should I call her?
Great!
Hi, Suzy, it's me. Sandra. Yeah I have another customer who wants your help. You want that ten dollars don't you? That's right, you can buy more of those loot boxes for that game you like. I'm two floors down. Apartment 304. No, that was 314 that was your music teacher, this is three zero four. I'm sure this guy won't care what shape you put your lips in. Okay, don't dawdle.
Okay, she'll be down in a minute or two. Remember, this is for school fundraising and I need to make a profit, so... just so you know, if you are using my sister's mouth I'm going to have to charge you for ten minutes on the ultimate package, even if you wind up changing your mind and don't want me to actually sit on your lap after she's used her tongue for a while. Hey, it happens. My sister's Slick, Spick and Span Service is pretty effective... it's nice that there's at least one thing her mouth is good for.
No, Suzy doesn't do sitting herself. I mean, she can do basic no-contact sits, and lap sits or face sits if you have money to burn, but she's still in training, and until my uncle's finished with that she's not ready to handle any Ultimate Packages yet. And besides, she's in elementary school which isn't part of our whole student business program, so none of it would go to any kind of charity, she'd just spend it on dumb shit. Trust me, you want me to do the sitting, she's so tiny and tight you wouldn't get any pleasure out of the experience, I bet. She's not even old enough to get pregnant.
Of course I don't want to get pregnant. I mean could you imagine me, a little twelve-year-old with a big belly out to here? I'm just saying I could, potentially, get pregnant if a guy happened to make a mess in one of my Snug Storage Spots while he was making the most of his Ultimate Package... if I didn't take steps to make sure I wouldn't. I make sure Suzy cleans me out really good... I mean, I'm paying her out of my profits, so I'm going to make her earn that money. And I take pills just to be extra sure. I steal those from my mom and older sister, they don't notice... they just think they accidentally took one twice. If you didn't trust me, you 're welcome to wear one of the rubbers too, but you strike me as one of those perverts who'd want to knock a little girl up anyway. Well your odds are pretty low with all the precautions I take, but you can pretend that's what you're doing when I'm sitting on you, if you want. Who am I to judge?
So, while we're waiting, have you decided if you want me to wear clothes, or just a skirt, or nothing, or maybe a little costume? I have a couple options here in my bag, but they're very teeny. Look, I've got a bikini, a cheer outfit--not my actual one, but like, something that looks like one that I don't mind if it gets messy. And it doesn't have underwear in it. But I recommend the au naturale version... that's Spanish for all-natural. Nude.
Good choice. You got a bathroom or something I can change in? Or at least turn around? No, I won't give you a show! I mean, if you want to watch me take my clothes off, whatever, but I'm not going to make it fancy for you, I told you, I'm not a stripper. I'm a young business woman in the service industry. Much classier. Besides, we're going to be starting soon, so you should be focused on deciding what hole you want to shove your cock into while I sit on your lap.
Ta-da! See, it would have been more impressive if you'd turned away and bam--suddenly naked little girl, instead of staring like a creeper while I took off everything. But that's okay, lots of my customers are creepers. So, what do you think? I know these are still small but they make a good handhold if you grip them tight. Or you can use the hips or butt. Hair's okay if you're gentle, same with throat... just don't get carried away, because if I pass out I'm charging you for a full hour of Ultimate Package, and if you pull out any hair I will be getting my parents involved. I can't be going to school with bald patches and I don't think it'd make people want to hire me to sit for them any more either.
Oh, that's probably my sister. You want to get that? I mean, it is your place, and if it's not her and I answer the door like this I'm liable to get raped or something.
See? I told you it was her. You actually looked scared like it was a rapist or something. Anyway, Suzy, let me introduce you to my new sitting client... you know, I never got your name. Cool. Well, this is my little sister and cleaning girl, Suzy. Why don't you pull down your shirt, Suzy?
No, not like that. Pull it down straight so he can read it. Nobody wants to see your little mosquito bites.
Fine, but he's a pervert. Show him what it says ON the shirt, though.
See? It's a bit hard to make out with the stains, but it says "I'd clean my room but I'm overqualified." Isn't that cute? Since I'm paying her to clean up after whatever mess you make? And it's true, too, she almost never cleans her room. But she'll clean your cock real good with her Slick, Spick and Span Service. Maybe Mom should pay her more allowance.
Speaking of which, you should get started if you want to earn your money, Suzy. Yeah, that's right, take it all in your mouth. She's pretty good, don't you think? Wanna know the secret? I made her practice on the dog. Well, I didn't make-her make her, like, hold her down and force it in her mouth, but I paid her. Not much, because it wasn't a real job from a paying customer, just training. But really, once a girl's had a long dog dick shooting in her mouth as much as Suzy has, plain old human ones are practically a treat. You could go practically all the way down her throat and you're still not going to be as big as Rex when he's got his knot all swollen up like a fist. It's really something to see.
I couldn't do it. I mean, I wouldn't want to, either, but I guess she's got a special talent with mutts. I even think that maybe when she finishes her training, instead of doing normal sitting jobs, I should spin her off as a special dog sitting service. I get a lot of requests for that, but I won't do them. I mean, sure I'll sit still and let them lick me if that's what a customer wants, but that's the only place I'd let a dog slobber on me. I certainly wouldn't go as far as doing the Ultimate Package when it's a dog. But Suzy? She already has to do it sometimes when Rex gets too frisky and starts humping her as soon as she takes her underwear off so the rest of her clothes don't get messy. When that happens it's usually easier to just guide him into her ass or pussy rather than pull him off long enough for her to turn around and get her lips on it. I mean he is a pretty big dog. I mean, she can't even take his dick all the way yet but if you get the tip in at least it keeps some of the mess off the carpet. It's been happening more and more, and she denies it but I don't think they're all accidents, but, hey, if she's going to be a freak like that, why not make a profit on it, right? Maybe I could even get her a sponsorship at Petsmart or something, you know, she wears a t-shirt that says something like, "For all your pet's OTHER needs, choose Petsmart!" while she helps a dog cock to shoot its cum inside of her so it's not humping all your furniture. I mean I guess you probably couldn't see the shirt very well while it's humping her but, it still makes a good promotion before and after don't you think?
What? You're ready for me to sit for you? Are you sure you don't want to hear more about my sister with dogs? You know there was one time she sucked off a horse, and... let me tell you, making that Spick and Span at the end was a hell of a job, with the horse cum she couldn't swallow all over the stable floor....
Okay, you caught me. I was hoping to make you blow in her mouth on accident, then I could charge you for ten minutes Ultimate Package sitting without actually doing any. Hey, that's just how it works, the more clients I can take in a day, the more I make, and so if I can get you to pay without me having to do any work, that's just good business.
I'm not afraid of a little hard work, though. Which hole did you decide on again? Right. Okay, Suzy, give me a few slobbery licks so I'm wet enough that I can squeeze this fine gentleman's thing inside of me so I can sit for him. See? It took a while to get her trained to put her mouth anywhere without complaint, but that's what big sisters are for.
No, there was no horse, really. I wish I had a horse to make her suck off. And Rex has only actually humped Suzy the one time so far and didn't actually get inside. But yeah, I did make her practice her sucking on him, that part was true. A lot of people are hung up on that. Maybe I need to add another tier above Ultimate so people can watch that while I sit.
Okay, I think... yeah that's in about as far as it'll go. Now, do you want to get your phone out to take pictures, or should I get Suzy to take some on my phone? All right, your call. Just so you know, I've started your ten minutes so don't be afraid to direct me. You're paying for the ultimate sitting experience, and your satisfaction is my priority... until your time's up, at least. You want me to bounce a little more? Okay! Tell me if I'm going too fast.
Shit. Hold on a second. Suzy, hand me my phone. Sorry, it's one of my other franchisees. I need to take this. Look, I'll pause your time. Since I'm still technically sitting on you, that's like getting free time so no complaints to my teacher, okay?
Hey. You better have some good numbers for me. Problem? Oh my god, Savannah, there's gotta be like fifty guys there, I don't care if it is a family reunion if you can't find at least three who are willing to pay for you to bounce on their lap with their cocks up your ass you'll never make it in this... what? What's Gina doing there? Ohh, right, I forgot her mom married your cousin. Okay, so what, a little healthy competition is the cornerstone of capit... what?
She's offering WHAT? Do you know how much she's charging? Per person? Damn....
No. I don't care, you get out there and get customers any way you can. Match her, or offer to do more. And no more being precious about it, Savannah... both holes, you hear me? I don't care, Savannah! How do you think your boyfriend's going to react if he finds out we lost out on the pizza party this week because you would only give up your ass?
No, I know Kevin, trust me, he'd prefer the pizza party.
And I'm not picking on just you, with Gina going as hard as she is, we're all going to have to step up our game here and do things we don't want to so we can win... in fact, I've got another idea and I'm in a good position to do some market research, so I'll get back to you.
But you listen to me, there is no way we're letting her class win this week's pizza party, and I'll be damned before I let them win the spot at the fair. So I don't care if it's your dad, your grandpappy, or even your brothers, you whore yourself out to every one with a dick you can get alone... beg if you have to, but you bring in customers, understand? Good.
Sorry about that. It's tough being a natural business genius sometimes... a lot of the other girls in my class didn't have their own ideas so they joined mine, which means I gotta be a boss, which means a lot of yelling. But it's kind of fun, too, because I get to make all the important decisions, too. So... listen, how would you like to get in on the ground floor of a new offer for my sitting service? For a little extra, you'll get the chance to knock me up.
I mean, yeah, you can cum in me on the Ultimate Package already, but I'm probably going to have to take that feature away soon, or require a condom. But, pay a little extra and I'll stop taking birth control today. I'll even lie back for a while to let it all soak in and won't get Suzy to clean me up there.
Oh, don't whine Suzy, you'll still get your money from mouth-lubing, and you can help gather all the cum and stuff it inside. I'm sure plenty of guys who prefer to use my ass would still pay for a shot at putting a baby in me, and that can be your job, scooping it all where it needs to go. Sperm Scooper maybe we'll call it.
Silly, of course it wouldn't be exclusive. I'd have to charge you much more to guarantee you're the only one who can knock me up, mister... I'd be cutting off all my potential customers. You're paying for a chance, like one of those ball-tossing games at the carnival. If we win the fundraising contest that's probably what our business will have to turn into at the carnival, Sandra's Sperm Squirt Spot... okay, the name needs some workshopping, but, I figure guys will just line up for a shot at knocking up a middle school girl. Can you picture it? I think it'd make the school at a lot of money, don't you? We'd even guarantee they were off birth control that day.
Wait, really? I thought you could just take the pills on days you had sex. No, I must have missed that day in class. How long does it take? Wow. And it takes a while to start working too? Huh. I guess I've been playing with fire. I mean, I still made sure to wash really good.
Okay, you've convinced me, from now on, no sperm in my babymaker without a condom unless you pay extra. Good thing I'm not pregnant yet. So, what do you think? I'd charge an extra $30 as part of the Ultimate Sitting Service and maybe $75 by itself, if you don't want a full sit but just want to stick the head in and squirt and make me sit around with a load of baby-making goo in my baby-maker. Maybe make more that way since my employees will have to do less work.
Well, no, I can't promise I'm fertile now, like you said, but tell you what, pay an extra fifty today, and you can put all your cum in my pussy this session and I promise I won't take any more pills, AND, I'll give you a free pump-and-go sitting appointment sometime this week with one of my other employees, guaranteed not on the pill. Most of my employees have never been on it, they just use their ass so they don't have to, but I warned them the market might force them to make compromises... and this is a pretty tame compromise, I mean, the cock doesn't have to go in far to squirt. Choose the right girl and you might even be her first to try and make a baby, and you gotta like those odds. Here, let me bring up some pictures of them, maybe you can find one you'd like to breed with .
Let's see... where did I save that picture... no, those are just some of my other customers. No, I told you, I take customer privacy very seriously, we don't share your personal information but we do keep it for our own records so we can improve our service. Ah, here we go, this is a picture of me and my friends... you can choose any girl in this picture except the one way on the left... she's got some nice boobs but she's going her own way doing some dumb car wash idea if you want to see 'em. Choose any of the others, they're all my employees so they have do what I say. Just one though for the special deal, any more and you have to pay full price.
Sure you can think about it. But just so you know, I'm starting your sitting time again, and this special offer goes away after if you don't agree before you squirt. Now let's see, you liked me moving like this when we left off, right?
Yeah, it's called 'high pressure sales technique.' So what do you say? Wanna shot at knocking up a couple of middle school girls? Sure feels like you do, pervert. Well, it might be your last chance to get your first crack, and at a deep discount... Deal? Deal. Ahhh... ahhh.... mmmm.....
Pleasure doing business with you, mister. Suzy, help scoop in any of his goo that leaked out, so he gets his money worth, and then take his payment. Wash your hands, first. And you, did you decide on a girl yet?
Oh, that one? Wow, you really picked the toughest one. I wasn't going to rule her out, but she'll take some talking to, she's super Christian, doesn't even do anal, just basic sits and Deluxe packages. But, a deal's a deal, and, you know what, since you'd just be sticking the tip in and squirting your load, that's not actually sex, so... I mean I guess it would count as a virgin birth.... Yeah, I bet I can sell her on that. I'm very good at selling people... don't you think?

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

That you are back at all is good news enough! I thought we had lost you to the void forever.

>>26325
bumping to say thank you for this last story and come baaaaaaaaack. pretty please.

Sometimes people ask "where do you get your story ideas?" From all over, of course. But one way I sometimes use is take some random movie or story's title and then think of what a completely new story, using my favorite tropes, might look like if it had that title. Sometimes, for Phil Phantom ideas I try that tactic deliberately, changing the title slightly to avoid confusion. In this case, there was an old, cuckold-centric story called Reality Check, and I realized that that story was probably written before Reality TV became a thing, that using that title now would probably involved a perverted reality show... and that sparked an idea for this story.

It's one of my longer ones, and it jumps back and forth in time a lot as I was trying to emulate that sort of loose and sloppy wild feel of Phil. It's also a story that I wrote about the first 1/3 of years and years ago, then ran out of steam, and happened to look at recently while I was losing steam on a separate story, and then finished in a rush, just to give you an idea of how my writing sometimes goes. And, a final note, although it isn't the first story of mine that uses this particular story element, I think this'll be the first published story that makes explicit a concept I enjoy playing with a lot, both in my Phil stories and my normal ones, a particular conception of God. So I guess I should probably add blasphemy to the tags.

It's one of two stories I've got completed save for edits (the other one is also a Phil Phantom-style, although I'm making good process on one that's more conventional style but still makes use of that particular story element I mentioned earlier).

Reality Checks - A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (inc, best, M+F, M+f, M+g, prost, blackmail, anal, 1st, preg, ws, blasphemy, probably more)

Daniel Dowdy waited just shy of joining the line at his local bank with a stack of checks in his hand, and a hungry family waiting on chairs outside of the line, except one who waited outside entirely. He still wasn't ready to commit to joining, and it was already a long line because the ATMs were out of order, which only added to his humiliation, because he was going to have to hand these checks to a real person, probably a person he knew, maybe even his wife's father who sometimes worked there... and potentially suffer the consequences. There were two potential sources of consequences... one would happen if whoever handled the checks looked too closely at them, and another could well happen no matter what, if the checks were just plain no good, as he feared.

It could be Jeff Skinner's latest little joke. Probably was, one way or another, the question was... exactly how? Daniel was just starting to think he'd gotten a handle on the man's sense of humor, a little late and after losing two virgin daughters and getting, in exchange, three pregnant whores (one being his wife) to his first elaborate joke, which technically might not be a joke, depending on whether or not the biggest of the checks bounced. But by now, Daniel assumed it was, and assumed that big life-changing check would bounce, but still wondered if Jeff was being honest when he promised that some of the checks would clear.

He'd come to think that it might be Jeff's last game... the checks that would humiliate and expose his family for their actions would clear, and the big check that lured them into their new situation would bounce and humiliate him in another way. But the big check, the reality show check, was for a half-million dollars, and it would be a supreme joke if he didn't try to cash it and it turned out to be real. The other checks might put real money in their accounts, which was sorely needed right now, but were from companies like "Little Angels Child Erotica Productions" and in the memo section proclaimed to all the world that the check was payment for things like "First time blowjob scene", "Mother/Daughter Sex Scene", "Slutty wife gangbang movie", "Hardcore Bestiality Scene With Cumshot", not to mention the ones that were for his family's starring roles in movies with titles like "Teen Whore" "White Family Slaved by Black Cock'" "My Preteen Daughter Married a Dog." Then there were the checks labelled "Impregnation Bonus." There were only three of those, but each made out to him personally, with a different name in parenthesis, one for his wife, one for his fifteen-year-old daughter, and one for his twelve-year-old daughter, as though he allowed it for the money. Only for one of those was it true. Oh, sure, all had been impregnated, at Jeff's direction if not by his sperm, but for two of them Dan only found out after the fact.

That didn't matter, Skinner apparently was willing to pay Daniel for all three, if Daniel was willing to cash the check... and the checks didn't bounce. He thought there was still a good chance they all might, because that also seemed like Jeff's humor, the 'gotcha.' He promised them checks for what they went through, but... gotcha, didn't promise they wouldn't bounce. Much like some of his other jokes over the summer, crueler, but funny in a dark way, make him go through all this misery and shame only to get nothing at the end but three more mouths to feed.

He didn't want to believe the man would be quite that cruel, because not having enough money was what got them into this mess, not having money and having too much Faith. After Daniel lost his job, and despite his best efforts couldn't find another one for months, their savings got drained fast, and then he finally lost the house too. He prayed for some kind of miracle to help him out, and then, in the newspaper, saw it... an ad: "Wanted, photogenic family to compete in new reality show, potential to win big cash, room and board."

It seemed like a lifesaver, but turned out to be a lifechanger, for good or for ill that would depend on how many of the checks bounced. At this point, he'd be willing to call it a draw, not good or ill, just different, if just a few of the bigger checks turned out to be real, even if it was the ones that revealed to anyone who looked at the notes some of the depravity that went on. The impregnation bonuses could add up to a decent mortgage, maybe, in another town, one that didn't know him, what he'd done, what he'd allowed.

What Daniel'd done seemed innocent enough when it started, he dragged his whole family out to the casting, waited in line for hours as others took their turns, mostly nice families but not as telegenic as his. That was the one asset God hadn't taken away, he had a beautiful, healthy family... practically a model family, in his mind. Daniel himself wasn't much to look at, a weak chin, slightly receding hairline, thin and wiry, but he looked good enough to nab his wife, and even managed a few affairs over the years with women from his church, so he thought himself quite the catch.

His wife, Maureen, really was a catch... he caught her and married her, and even convinced her to take his name, despite not wanting to be known as Mrs. Dowdy. Stroker wasn't much of a better last name, but she was attached to it, but Daniel pressed and she relented just before the wedding. He thought the bachelorette party, the night before the wedding, would her last chance to be a Stroker, and a stroker, with the male stripper her friends hired, and he was comfortable with that as long as his nose wasn't rubbed in it, and as long as after that she became a Dowdy. That seemed to be what happened. After two pregnancies, she'd started to look the name, dressing dowdy in conservative dresses that barely showed cleavage, or frumpy jeans and overlarge shirts, but beneath she still had the body of a Stroker, the same kind her mother had... big, busty, small waist but a big ass and long silky legs. But Maureen rarely wore makeup and her hair was done up in bun when they went out. When she started this family journey, she was a perfect conservative wife, envy of the guys at work, while he still had a work, and Church, while he went.

Now she certainly didn't look like a Dowdy anymore, probably wouldn't be welcome in Church, and if Dan didn't come out of the bank with something that made these last few months worthwhile, she seemed fully prepared to go back to being a Stroker, in name and more. She'd already delivered a threat--or maybe an offer--that she would move her and the girls back in with her family, to share a house with her parents who were distant, and her brother who tried not to be, who still lived with his parents. The brother who was--previous to this summer--on the "under no circumstances do we move the girls into a house with him, even if we have to be homeless" red line list. The last couple months had changed that list, as that prospect didn't seem to bother her anymore. Maybe at this point it seemed like the lesser of several evils... behind jail and Jeff's last offer, maybe becoming a Stoker again at home looked positively appealing.

The girls, too, now looked more Stoker than Dowdy, and Dan--having gotten used to them showing skin inside the Dream House--hadn't been quite prepared for how they'd look to others in their generally conservative city. He'd already had to sweat out the walk from where they were dropped off, penniless but for the checks in his hand. Maureen was just as penniless and more of a sight, but instructed everybody to hold their heads up high, thinking it would draw less attention than seeming ashamed. So he led his family, parading about in leather skirts or tiny tight shorts, and tops that sometimes looked more like bras than shirts, or rewarded careful attention with a peek at what was underneath... and watched his kids look shameless about it, smiling at the lewd offers they used to hurry away from.

His oldest, Shirley, was briefly mistaken for a literal whore while they were waiting for a red light to change. The girl was almost unrecognizable both in dress and demeanor from before this summer. She used to be the girl who never showed cleavage but now had her plump round breasts proudly out, no longer bothered by people seeing the freckles that had once embarrassed her. These days visible freckles on her cleavage seemed modest by comparison, considering her nipples were now just one firm jiggle away from popping out of the lacy red halter that contained them. Her legs were mostly bare too, seemingly only wearing the smallest of short shorts in a soft and very elastic fabric that hugged every curve, right down to the camel toe between her legs. Had his eldest daughter at least tried to keep the black jacket closed around her body, she might have been less conspicuous and less people would have mistaken her for a teen whore looking for customers, but apparently holding your head up high went a long way. They didn't have very much choice in the outfits they were dropped off with, of course, and at least she'd gotten over her body shame, but Dan still didn't like how Shirley demonstrated how likely she believed the checks were to bounce by almost getting in the car with the man who made that mistake--that might not be such a mistake (for even if they cashed the checks she was Shirley, a whore, one way or another now)--before her mother yanked her back.

As for little Tulip, well, the whole walk over she was overshadowed by her sibling and mom, but now she was waiting outside alone, and Dan had to hope nobody looked too close at the twelve-year-old while they did their business at the bank. She still looked like an adorable moppet at first glance. Her skirt was too short, but cute if you didn't really inspect the design or a gust of wind didn't blow it up and reveal the tattoo a girl that young shouldn't have on her ass cheek. As for her top, that left her pierced belly-button, shoulders, and forearms bare, but still was probably acceptable for this September day, unless you wondered too much about the chain that dangled down one side, or if that drew your eye between the flowers in the design and noticed that you could see faintly through the gauzy material. Ironically, if she'd been wearing a bra, as was probably intended by the designer of the shirt, the translucency would have been more blatant. Similarly, if she yet had breasts that were more than the barest hint of a swelling--that would be unmistakable in a few weeks as they started to produce milk for the body growing inside of her--the distinctive curve would have shown through. But because she didn't have those, to a casual glance, or from afar, what showed of her body beneath the top mostly just looked like a complimentary shade of pink to her skirt, and nobody expects a girl that young to have elaborate nipple piercings so it was probably safe. Anyone on the walk over who'd looked must have assumed it was part of the shirt design, or been entirely distracted by her older sister's less subtle sexuality.

Still, it worried Dan leaving her out there alone, but hopefully the same reason she had to wait outside--their new dog--would also keep people from coming too close. Rocket was territorial, which, like the dog itself, could be a mixed blessing. That beast, who certainly wasn't named for his speed, was one of the few completely tangible prizes they've walked away with... a large dark-coated dog with soulful eyes and a distinctive ridge of hair on his back that apparently marked him out as a fancy, upper class breed. Unless that was another lie, which it might be, considering the uses they trained him for were decidedly not fancy or upper class. Either way, Rocket was a prize that now left him worrying that, whether the checks bounced or not, the dog could become their biggest problem. If Dan didn't hurry there was a chance his little Poodle might--just out of habit--pull her custom made miniskirt up, get down on all fours and let herself get knotted up with their big Ridgeback's red rocket right in public, forgetting that average people on the street aren't like the audiences she was now used to. No commotion could be heard from outside, so it probably hadn't happened yet, though it didn't prove anything. Stunned silence was his reaction the first time he watched that little twelve-year-old getting mounted by a dog. So it could be going on right now. If it was, Dan hoped whoever was watching a preteen girl get knotted in public at least had the moral decency to throw money at the show--the family might need it soon.

Yes, the Dowdy family had definitely changed since they signed up for a reality show. Especially his daughters.

Back at the start, in the casting call, his kids were normal American kids. Pretty, certainly, but somehow the kind of kids that faded into the background, like something in their DNA made most people miss their obvious potential. Jeff Skinner, the man at the head of the casting call--also the head of the show when it finally developed, which in retrospect might have been a clue that this wasn't a professional Hollywood production--didn't miss their potential. That also probably should have been a warning sign, looking back, but back then they were just doing whatever they could to look forward and not see a future of the Dowdy family on the streets.

Skinner's eyes lit up when the family entered the room, smiled, and asked for their names and ages. "I'm Daniel Dowdy, 34." He wore his job interview suit, only without a jacket and tie because this seemed a lot less formal. It was actually the exact same clothes they later left him to wear to walk to the bank, which might have been a kindness or a joke, or just a lack of any thought at all about him, he wasn't sure. "And this is my wife, Maureen Dowdy."

"Thirty," she said. Maureen routinely lied about her age, shedding four years, which for anyone who did the math would have made her pregnant at fifteen... but Skinner didn't seem to care very much about math. Nor did he particularly seem put off by her Mom-jeans and blouse, which Dan thought didn't flatter her figure or stand out... didn't hide that she had boobs, at least, but the dark red fabric didn't emphasize them either, just draped out over them and hung straight down from there, extending past her waist. Either he saw past that to her genuine beauty or politely pretended to.

Dan went on with the introductions. "These are our children, Shirley, who's almost sixteen." Almost a lot of other things, almost tops in her class, almost a cheerleader, almost certainly a virgin, at least in her dad's opinion. Could have been the first two and avoided the last, if she, too, was willing to stand out more, but back then she was almost as dowdy as her mother, struck by a shyness that maybe went along with her full name, if you believe names have power. His oldest girl started out shy but it certainly kicked up a few notches when she started growing boobs, boobs she usually hid--but not totally effectively--under sweaters. Her long black hair often ran in front of her freckle-speckled face, a convenient place to hide behind and not stand out, and Daniel thought she was doing that now, ashamed of the attention, so he did what he could and shifted it.

"And this is Tulip, who just turned twelve." Tulip, unlike her sister, loved attention, was always a ray of sunshine that won over everyone in the room, with a winning smile even with braces. Her shorter brown hair was full of curls that stayed out of her face, which had no freckles. Tulip often said she wished she had those, because she thought they were super cute, but that might have been just to make her sister feel better--Tulip was sweet like that, always wanting to make other people happy. As she came to do in the house. The littlest Dowdy, at this stage, still dressed like a Dowdy, but in her case with the sense that it was only by accident and upbringing rather than from any shyness. Some kids that young dress like sluts did in Dan's day, but they lived in a conservative city, a conservative neighborhood within it, and so outfits that fit in with that were normal to Tulip. For the interview, she had a skirt over leggings and several overlapping layers on top, starting with a pastel pink long sleeve button up top, where only the top was buttoned and the sides left to fall open revealing the layer underneath, a loose white knot hem t-shirt which was over yet another, longer t-shirt in a softer pink tight to her skin. As Skinner looked her over with a shrewd appraising eye, like he wasn't sure if they wanted a kid that young, Dan added, "Though sometimes we call her Poodle."

That was an old Dowdy family joke, from when their newest member tried to spell her name in alphabet blocks and rearranged them into Putil, which her older sister, who hadn't yet completely grasped spelling at that age, thought spelled Poodle, like the dog. It had since become a fun nickname around the house. "Da-ad," little Tulip complained, but not yet in the way kids do when their parents are horribly embarrassing them, but rather when they're old enough to know that being embarrassed was something teenagers did and they would pretend because they couldn't wait to grow up and do the fun things that went along with being one. Her smile when she said it was hard to miss though, and the twinkling in her eyes almost sent a secret message of "Call me Poodle if you like, I won't mind. I might even bark just to play along." Which she did, sometimes, when her name was used, and later.

That seemed to do the trick, as Skinner lit up with a grin. "That's just adorable," he said. "And more than that, it's marketable. Kids with cute nicknames, that can be gold in this business, you know? You've heard of Honey Boo-Boo, I'm sure, she wasn't the prettiest of the girls on that child pageant show, but she sure knew how to draw the attention. Do you think you know how to draw the attention, little Poodle?"

Tulip paused for a moment then gave a cute little high-pitched 'Arf arf," as she sometimes did at home.

Jeff's grin only widened. "Well, I'm pretty much sold. Technically, I was supposed to be looking for a family with a son, just for variety's sake, but, you know, when you've got a winner, you don't keep looking, and I see potential for something much better than a rose on my piano in my future." Dan thought that might be an industry term he wasn't familiar with, though he noticed his wife took on a sour look for a moment. "I exaggerate," Jeff said. "And obviously I can't make a commitment on the spot like this. But you're definitely the top contenders so far. I mean, look at you, you're like a perfect family right out of central casting." A sudden, concerned look. "You're not, though, right, none of you have done any professional acting or modelling or anything, have you?"

The thought that they might have was flattering in its way, even for Maureen, who said, "No."

"But you could, I see. I could definitely see you in pictures in the future. And maybe as a result of this, you will be. There could be a new direction in store for your family." At the time, Dan had stars in his eyes at the thought of them becoming famous, even reality-TV famous which wasn't as sure a thing as other types of fame. He might have thought twice if he knew some of the titles of the pictures Skinner had in mind, or if he considered that the man might have actually said 'there could be a nude erection in store for your family.' "You're pretty well perfect. You've got the trustworthy dad, maybe a little bumbling or oblivious at times, but good for watching." Dan was still trying to figure out whether to take offence at this, but Jeff continued before he got a chance. "I bet you even make Dad jokes."
"I have been known to make a groaner."

"Good. Man after my own heart. I love a man with a sense of humor. I like to make kids groan myself. I'm not actually a father though, yet, which might make it a faux-pa." He paused for the joke to set in. Dan gave him a grin and a 'I see what you did there nod,' while Shirley laughed more than she would at Dan's jokes, and Tulip smiled along eagerly, always a people pleaser, even though she probably didn't get it. They all wanted this, and Skinner could sense the desperation coming off them. "I'm sure we'll get along famously, and at the end of the show, we'll see who manages to make your little girls moan the most. I expect a lot of our audience will be fathers, so you teasing and tormenting them--playfully--will all play well." He turned his gaze to Maureen, looked her over again with an up-and-down openly appraising gaze that might have made her uncomfortable in other contexts. "Then we've got the perfect mom type, cinematic. If we were filming a movie, we'd have people complaining we cast too young." Flattery always got to Maureen. "Then there's the two daughters, little Poodle's got marketing opportunities written all over her. People would be lining up to get her adorable face plastered on their chest." Tulip flashed a smile that almost looked too rehearsed, like a celebrity who knew everyone was looking, or somebody already posing for a picture that would go on T-shirts. "And you, Shirley... the all-American cheerleader type."

"I'm not actually a cheerleader," she pointed out, but through a faint blush at the compliment.

"Doesn't matter, you're the type. Put you in a cheerleader outfit, nobody will know the difference. Maybe we will do just that if things get slow. This is reality television, but there's always a little showmanship at play. You've certainly got the assets we're looking for..." His eyes drifted to the lumps hidden under Shirley's sweater but only for a second before he explained, "...as a family, I mean... except as I said, a boy would have been nice. The big producer types might still want me to go another way because of that... but I think I can sell your family, if you're willing."

"We're willing," Dan said.

"When I say 'willing,' I mean a little more than most people. There's a lot of money at stake here, I'm not looking for people who're willing to walk right up to the edge of the pool and then change their mind after dipping a toe in. What I really need to know here is if you're the type of family willing to stick things out, even if they get awkward or uncomfortable. If I go to bat for you as my new reality family and you decide to quit the first day, that'll set back production quite a bit, might even cost me this gig. I need people who are willing to be all in. So are you all in?"

"We are all in," Dan affirmed.

Maureen Dowdy was a little more cautious. "Depending on what exactly is involved."

"That's fair, that's fair. Well, you already know it's a reality show. Tell you what, if you're willing to sign an NDA, I'll give you the premise." He pulled out a set of contracts, passed them out, and they all seemed legitimate, at least to someone who hadn't seen Non-Disclosure Agreements before but had only heard about them. By signing, they seemed to be agreeing that if they revealed anything about the production, premise, cast or crew of the project before it aired on television, they could be liable for huge fines they already couldn't afford. Since signing seemed the price of going further, of course the family signed, not realizing that technically speaking since this project was never going to air on television they were signing a lifetime silence pact. Assuming it was enforceable, of course. "Okay, basically we're going with a twist on a fairly standard premise. We have a few working titles, but we haven't settled on one. In production meetings, I've been calling it the Skinner Box myself, but that probably won't stick, that's a much later-in-production decision. Maybe we'll name it after your family, who knows. But regardless, it's sort of a take on Big Brother-meets-Fear Factor. Have you seen either of those shows?" Nods around the table, although most of them were familiar with the first show more than the second, which had been off the air for some time. "Except, there's no voting people out, no eliminations. You're stuck in the house, no contact with anybody else, for two months--we'll do it over summer break so the kids don't miss any school--and we'll provide all your needs in that time, although, for example, you might have to win challenges to get better food or more comfortable sleeping arrangements, that sort of thing. Like Big Brother with their slop. Stealing is the core of television, even reality television. We're not above it. Sometimes you see something somebody else has produced and know you can do much better things with them. So I can't promise you'll be comfortable, but you'll be taken care of, you might wind up having a lot of fun with the games we play, and, if you stick out the whole time, you have my word you will receive a check for half a million dollars. Sound good?"

It sounded like the answer to their prayers. Too good to be true, probably.

"We're going to push your boundaries, of course, try to get you to call it quits, but we all want a good show here. It does us no good if you quit early. The audience will know if you don't have a fair chance to win that check, and they're watching to see how the family dynamics shift over time, with stress. And, it's not all-or-nothing, obviously. Even if you duck out before the half-million prize, you can walk out with some very hefty checks, from performing certain challenges along the way, things that will be entertaining for the audience, even if they might be messy or embarrassing for you. Now, listening to all of this, do you think you're the family I want?"

Dan and Maureen exchanged a look, and he knew she was less certain than he was. Just as he knew Shirley was a lot less certain than Tulip, who was bouncing eagerly, excited for the challenge already, probably wanted to move into the house right now. And she didn't even know that if they didn't move in soon, they might not have a house to live in. But even the ones who weren't sure they could handle it seemed like they wanted the chance to try. So, Dan said, "I know we are, Mr. Skinner."

"Then let me take down your information. No promises, yet, but right now in my eyes, you're the frontrunners." And after that was done, they left, passing the next auditioners on the way in, appraising the black family they saw waiting, noted they had not just a daughter but a teenage son. They left having to hope against hope that they weren't just about to be replaced as the favorites... but still, the whole family was excited, deciding to give in to cautious optimism, enough to splurge and get McDonalds on the way home, which their budget really shouldn't have allowed for.
Maureen privately said there was something fishy about that man that auditioned them, but as Dan pointed out, she'd never auditioned for anything before, and this was their best shot for avoiding some kind of shelter situation... unless they wanted to try and move in with her family, which had always been a no-go idea before. "Even if we don't win, at least that's two more months we don't have to worry."

And if Dan himself had doubts, they started to fade when a week went by with no contact, starting to be replaced by the fear that the opportunity had passed them by, and then, just as he was starting to give up hope, they got a phone call from Jeff Skinner, telling them they were still in the running and he wanted to have a team come over and film what he called "background."

"Background?" he asked.

"Yeah, you know where they interview the people, confessional style, before the show, maybe get some stories from friends and family?"

A knot in his stomach loosened. "So that means we're still in a good position?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, the way these things work, these background interviews get done before the selection process is complete. It's easy enough to just not use the footage from the families we don't choose, you know? In fact, depending on how these interviews go, it might sway the final decision. I'm still fighting for you, but the more cooperative you can get your family to be, the better."

So, of course Dan cooperated, invited the 'background crew' into his home, which was actually just Jeff Skinner again, along with two men. One was a bald lanky black man who introduced himself as Randall Mark Ferr, or Randy for short, who seemed to be the cameraman. The other just called himself Jackson--but okay with Jack. He said he was Vietnamese, handsome, with long surfer-style hair and a neat goatee, and he seemed to be in charge of makeup, lighting, and so on, although Skinner seemed to consult with him in huddled conversation on various topics on a regular basis.

Before they arrived, Dan instructed his family to cooperate: don't give the men any trouble, show off their best sides, charm them as much as possible, because the Dowdy family needed this. He and Maureen kept from their kids exactly how much they needed it... that at the end of the month, they'd be out of their house and after that, it was cheap hotels for as long as they could last.

Telling his kids that they had to do everything possible to impress three strange men could have been a horrible decision, but the guys all seemed to be on the up-and-up to Dan. They took footage of the house, the family together, asked questions about their most hilarious or embarrassing moments, things they wanted to do with their lives... the kind of thing he'd expect from a production company. After that, they wanted to follow each person around for a day of their normal life and for more personal, private interviews, out of sight and earshot of the others in their family, where, Skinner insisted, everyone might be more free to be honest and themselves, and show off the sides of them that might be showcased on the show. That also seemed like a normal, reasonable request for a reality show, although for parents that also came with a lot of anxiety.

After each day, the family would gather and ask what sort of things were talked about, both to get themselves ready for what they might be in for and to assuage any lingering suspicion about the motives of Skinner and the camera crew. As it turned out, each one of them left a lot out about what their private day of filming entailed, and had they been more forthcoming the family might well have avoided two months of steadily increasing depravity, but then, on the other hand they would have been out of their house with no other options a lot earlier and so it might have been a wash.

Tulip was the first for the private interviews, the first that Maureen and Dan sweated as a concerned Mom and Dad. Maureen worried more than Dan, sure that they'd just let their little poodle go off with pedophiles with a camera, but her concern infected him a little, too, until he heard Tulip's report and decided his wife was just seeing sexual predators everywhere. As it turned out, Maureen's instincts were actually dead on, but these predators were smart enough to not jeopardize a coming pack hunt by making their move too openly and spooking their prey.

The team followed Tulip to her middle school, an area three men with a camera are traditionally not allowed, but if you ask politely for permission and say it's for a reality show, turns out a lot of them will bend the rules. In between a lot of conventional filming the crew got the Internet contact information for a lot of Tulip's friends, just in case they had roles for them in future projects, one of many facts Tulip didn't mention to her parents in her recap because it didn't involve her and thus, wasn't interesting. Beyond capturing her school routine, Skinner and his crew focused on grooming, wanting to watch Tulip tease her hair with a long handled brush (Randy thought a long handled one was more cinematic for some reason), had her lay out her outfits, Jack helped her apply some makeup to take pictures that her Mom probably would be upset about... but just because of the makeup.

Otherwise, it was mostly talking. They interviewed her about her favorite animals, and whether she had any boys at school--or teachers--she really liked, and she told them she loved dogs and she liked all her teachers, that she didn't think "teacher's pet" had to be a bad thing. Those answers seemed to entertain them. They asked about any special skills she had and since they already knew about her gymnastics from school she told them about how she was really good at quickly reducing fractions in math without a calculator, the video games she had collected all the achievements for, and about the tricks she could do with her tongue. The first two didn't impress them, but the last did, and they had her demonstrate making waves with her tongue, twisting it up into a four leaf clover cup shape, and a few others, which they filmed with avid interest.

Next, they asked her about things she wanted that she wasn't allowed and she told them about always wanting a dog of her own, but Mom complained they made too much of a mess. Tulip also decided to talk about wanting to get her belly pierced, that her dad thought she was too young even though she had friends with them already. To her surprise, Mr. Skinner mentioned that it was possible that one or more of the games might lead to her getting pierced. That news got her even more excited about joining the show, which she wasn't sure was possible. It was also another promise he kept, in multiple senses of the word piercing and in several different places that she wouldn't have considered at the time.

Finally, they capped off her day by taking her to enjoy a chocolate covered frozen banana, which wouldn't have been her first choice but they got it before asking what she wanted and she wasn't ungrateful enough to refuse, especially because they seemed to like filming her enjoying the treat, even playfully dared her special ways to eat it and later wanted her to demonstrate her tongue tricks again on it. This was another thing she didn't tell her parents about, because they might have been angry about her eating dessert before dinner, and Skinner promised not to tell with a conspiratorial wink and a pat on her leg.

In fact, Tulip probably left the most details out of her report of her day, but--aside from the banana and the comment about the piercings--it was mostly because she didn't think there was anything worth telling. Her mother was super worried about whether they tried to get her to remove her clothes or lift her shirt or touch them in any way or take any inappropriate pictures, and nothing like that happened. As far as she knew anyway... although arguably they did take some inappropriate pictures. Not only ones involving the banana... they also 'borrowed' her cell phone for long enough to clone it and copy every picture already saved on it, including some tasteful, artistic (in her opinion, if anyone were to ask) shots of her in a shower, or her bed, and squeezing the flesh around her nipples to make them look more like boobs, or blatantly spreading her pussy lips for the camera. These were pictures that Tulip had taken herself, just in case a boy she liked asked her for nudes... but so far Skinner and his crew were the only one to have access. They also gained access to all her text messages to mine for data later, as well as to all of her social media accounts. But Tulip was unaware of that, and what shady stuff they did do looked innocent to a girl who still mostly was.

What Tulip mostly couldn't shut up about was Skinner telling her about something called a 'Poodle Skirt' which apparently was popular in the 50s and they thought they might be able to do something with, on the show, down the line, and which they did, although contrary to Dowdy expectations the skirt turned out to be more of a micromini and the poodle design also had a big black dog humping the poodle.

Now, waiting in front of the bank, it was that girl's favorite piece of clothing, though she'd come to prefer nothing at all to most outfits. She wasn't, as it turned out, performing a public bestiality show for the spare change of passers by--or for free--while her father worried about whether to risk trying to cash a check. If Rocket started humping her, she might very well do that show, but not because she wanted to... or at least, not just because of that. The leash she held tight to her body split into two chains, one going to Rocket's collar, and the other slipping under her top to rings in her belly button and nipples, the whole assembly part of one of her last challenges before the show ended. And Rocket had learned by now that if he wanted his bitch, all he had to do was tug on the chain until she bent over just to avoid the pain. If Dad did come out of the bank with money, he said the first order of business was getting something at a hardware store that could snap that chain, but until then, the two of them were leashed to each other and her nipples were super sensitive lately which her mom had agreed was probably because she'd gotten pregnant.

Still, she took care of Rocket once today, before the ride home began, and he was usually good for a day. And if this was one of his extra-frisky days, well, it was nothing her Instagram followers hadn't seen before they stupidly banned the account for her wedding night video, so why not a live show? The audience didn't even need to throw money, it'd just be fun either way. Poodle (she now preferred to be called that, even thought it was legally her name) wasn't worried about money, even now. Sure, being rich would be neat, and she sensed her daddy was suspicious about the big prize being fake, but if the reality checks bounced, she knew they'd be okay, they could just bounce back and accept Skinner's other offer... which she kind of wanted to anyway. His plans for her sounded pretty fun, actually.

But back when she was still most often called Tulip, when she was finished her private interview day, her long rambling report to her mother contained no hint of those plans, or the larger plan that would get her to where those plans sounded good. The worst that Maureen had to mull over with concern was when her daughter mentioned they watched and filmed some gymnastic moves in school, but the rest of the family agreed that that wasn't anything untoward but her doing backbends or showing off how she could do the splits would just make good footage on the show.

That nothing particularly noteworthy happened with Tulip gave them all some confidence when it was Shirley's turn the next day, except perhaps Shirley herself. The teen was happy to go along with whatever the men wanted although her high school was less willing to allow strangers to film on school grounds, so most of the footage they got of her with friends was before school. Still, the administration wasn't entirely unsympathetic to her big shot of stardom that everybody was already talking about... having a star come from their school would give them some national attention, and so, since nothing important was happening in the afternoon, she got an excused absence. Mr. Skinner and his crew used that time to drive her to a nearby park, asking questions along the way. This was what she expected, and yet somehow, she was having trouble answering in more than one or two words. Not a promising sign, she knew that, but when all the focus was on her and it was supposed to be her time to shine, she couldn't seem to manage much more than direct, simple answers to questions.

Shirley's shyness had always been her big problem, worse since her teen years, and it was rearing up again now making her slow to open up to the interviews, even in private, but there came a moment that changed everything for her, when Skinner leveled with her and treated her honestly and like an adult... or at least that was how she saw it. If he was truly honest he probably would have also told her he and his team planned to get all the women in the family pregnant by the end of summer.

The partial honesty came after some time at the park where the questions began to turn even more personal, as Mr Skinner seemed to be trying and failing to get juicy details of her life, asking about whether she'd ever gotten drunk, used drugs, partied, and the like. The answer was always no. Shirley admitted to thinking she might be bisexual, which got a spark of interest, but it faded when she revealed that she hadn't actually ever dated a girl and so had no juicy stories of experimentation. Similarly, she had none about her boyfriend Paul, whose family went to the same church but were one of those families that were super ostentatious about their belief, Paul telling everyone he was saving himself for marriage. So, she and Paul had never done anything other than kissing, and, although she hadn't told Skinner this, she largely chose to date him because of that and the lack of pressure he represented rather than any specific interest in him personally.

Her dating decisions had worked out fine for her so far, but she could see the interest dying in the men's eyes, especially Mr. Skinner. "You're giving me a real problem here, Shirley," he said finally, confirming her worst fears. "Right now I'm getting the sense that you don't really want to do this, you don't really want to stand out."

"But I do! I really really want to do this!" she insisted.

"Do you? Because you seem very much the take-no-risks good girl type. And that's fine, good for you, you'll probably make a very good accountant some day, but it's not really what we want from you, and it's not what we need for our show, you know? We need people who are willing to be a little daring."

"I can be daring!" Knowing how close she was to blowing this, not just for herself but for the people she loved, that got her almost in tears. "I know I'm a little shy but once I get warmed up... please, Mr. Skinner, my family really really needs to do this show, we're almost out on the street. Just tell me what you need and I'll do my best, I swear."

This admission, and the conversation that followed, was left out of her report to her mom and dad, in large part because she didn't want them to know that she knew how close they were to losing everything. Tulip might have thought that times were just a little tough but Shirley was a little more aware. Then again, it was hard to miss Mom trying to casually probe whether her boyfriend's family--since they were Christians and all--might be willing to take her in 'if things got really bad.' Shirley didn't know, but cheekily told her mother, "They might, but aren't you afraid I'll wind up pregnant?" She left out that it wasn't her boyfriend she was worried about... she trusted Paul, but his father gave her the distinct impression that she shouldn't be alone with him if she wanted to remain a virgin, which lately she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be... but it was still probably a bad idea to let him be the one to change that.
Her mother had said that that might be preferable to moving in with her own family, then laughed like it was all a silly joke, nothing to worry about, but Shirley knew then, if Mom was considering going back to live in the Stroker house, that things were really bad and that she had to do everything she could to make this reality thing work.

Shirley even considered that she might have to do something immoral and illegal to win these producers over. Friends of hers at school at joked about the rules of the 'casting couch' and how she should be careful because they probably applied even to reality television, and she was likely to get Hashtag-Me-Too'd. Publicly, she disagreed with that take... publicly, privately she considered it plausible, got a little turned on as she rolled the idea around in her private headspace, or her head private space. Especially lately when the scenarios involved Jackson who she kind of had been lightly crushing on ever since he introduced himself, and wouldn't mind at all if he made her hashtag-worthy.

Shirley had even surprised herself with her own boldness because she'd been flirting with him a little, especially early in their recording day as he did her makeup before school. At least she thought it was flirting, but they were smiling and friendly and she asked him his last name and was amused that it turned out to be Dong. That led to what she thought was a cute moment, her repeating his name in disbelief, and him correcting her even though what she said sounded exactly the same, and after what felt like a solid minute of this, he had to explain, "It's like Dawn, but with just the faintest squirt of the G, Dong," then he smiled, and said, "I know, the Dong is a lot to get your mouth around, but I'm sure in time, you'll get it." A bold part of her that was always smothered by the shy part thought about making a joke about getting her mouth around his dong, but she didn't have it in her and she was worried the whole exchange they'd already had might be not so much playful flirting as lightly racist. Innocently, if so, since how could it be the bad kind of racist if she was crushing on him? If she wasn't too young for him, she'd even be fantasizing herself as Mrs. Jackson Dong. She'd prefer Dong to being a Dowdy her whole life, so she definitely wasn't bad-racist. Although, even if that dirty joke, in her head, didn't push it over the line into racist, she couldn't say it... it might be bad taste, a joke he'd heard a million times, and, worst of all, she wasn't sure what she'd do if he actually took it seriously and wanted to let her try to get her mouth around his dong. The idea certainly excited her, made her have to hide the reddening in her face, but Shirley wasn't sure she actually had that in her.

If she didn't have that in her for a guy she liked, she knew she probably wouldn't be able to do anything sexual they might ask of her to guarantee their casting, if they indeed planned that. She could tell herself she would, consider even her cherry a small price to pay, but was afraid that when they finally asked (and especially if it wasn't Jackson who asked but Mr. Skinner who seemed to be far more likely, being the one in charge), she would panic and run and tell Mom and in doing so ruin their family's only chance at not having to live in some homeless shelter (or Grandpa's house, depending on which Mom thought was safer). That was the worst part of being so shy, that she didn't know what she was capable of in some situations. Until they asked--if they were going to--she wasn't sure what her body would compel her to do.

But they didn't ask. Instead, Skinner gave her a different form of honesty, one that made Shirley feel worldly about secretly expecting all along. He even had Randy stop filming to do it. "I want to help you, Shirley, for your family's sake, but I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not a charity. Entertainment is a business, and a business runs on sex appeal... that's where a lot of people's entertainment comes from, anyway. Your dad certainly isn't going to be providing that. Your mom has a share, don't get me wrong, but she and your sister, we expect to have to push them. In terms of providing what our audience really wants, you're going to have to take quite a load. Most of the time, I think, unless things really don't go as I expect. Your Mom, your sister, they'll have their fans, but we're really depending on most of the viewers wanting to tune in for you, the hot not-quite-legal teenager. Forbidden fruit, you know? And that means we have to be sure you're willing to play ball, you know?" Here her heart started thumping in excitement, expecting again the lewd demand her mother also seemed to think was a good possibility. "If we put you on the show, we need to know you can be the star we need you to be. Someone who's willing to walk around in a skimpy swimsuit." Shirley had a vision of a skimpy swimsuit there that was far more conservative than what she would later wind up wearing. "Play to the cameras, flirt a little, basically make love to the camera, or at least make love to yourself while on camera." He was talking so fast she assumed he had no idea what that sounded like, that he obviously just meant that she had to have self-confidence, to love herself that way.
"Right now, I'm not feeling like you can do that. Something's holding you back. So if you want me to help you, help your family, help me to help you. Tell me what's really bothering you. You'd be surprised how flexible we can be with our star. Ways your parents don't even have to know about, if that's the way you want it. We have a little confessional room in the house where people go for private filming sessions, and that can be used to get away with a lot. Do you rely on a little of the weed to calm your nerves, and are worried that stuck with your parents, you won't have that? No worries, we can blaze up during your time. Alcohol, same deal, within reason, we can give you just enough to be comfortable. Happens all the time in these reality shows, you just never see it on air. Or, for that matter, and forgive me for being crass, if you have a favorite vibrator you're afraid of leaving behind because you're used to going away for an orgasm when things get tough, well, we're totally understanding of that common teenage need and can facilitate. Totally natural, nothing to be ashamed of." She knew it wasn't, no matter how much her face was red. "If you're afraid of being out of touch with your boyfriend and all your friends... well, can't do anything about that one, to be honest, part of the show's magic runs on isolation, but you can talk to us in your interviews, just say it's off the record and we won't tell a soul."

She took a few deep breaths, found that as much as what he said embarrassed her it also made her less shy, like somebody who could say those things to a teenage girl wouldn't judge her for anything she had to say, which was remarkably freeing. Still embarrassing, but it was like how sometimes when you get hurt you feel a little rush of pleasure after, like back when Dad still spanked her. "It's nothing like that, really," she said finally, when the 'oh-my-god-I'm-going-to-die-of-embarrassment' feeling faded and the peace came in its place. "I told you I don't really do weed or anything." Maybe she should take the opportunity and try, she considered, but would save that for later. "It's just... I've never really been comfortable with my body."

The men exchanged a look and a little laugh. "If that's the truth," Skinner said, "we can absolutely work with that. But you'll excuse me if I find that a little hard to believe. I'm a professional, and your family wouldn't have gotten this far if you didn't have a fantastic shape. I know that's inappropriate to say for a girl your age, but it's the truth, unless those are remarkably good fake breasts."

"They're not fakes, boss," Jackson insisted. "Not in my professional opinion."

"I'm not worried about the shape," she said, growing more comfortable under the compliments. Shirley had plenty of compliments about them before, from Paul, others in school, strangers. "I just..." she took one more pause, decided she was all-in, and told them what she'd never told anybody except for a few girlfriends, waving her hand up to her face. "It's just that I have so many freckles." And she lowered her hands to her chest area, hoping they'd get the point, then decided to make it explicit. "All over."

It wasn't that she'd never shown anybody her body before, the problem was that the first boys she did, at fourteen, all made fun of her over her abundance of freckles, and those comments were forever burned into her mind. From one boy joking that they better not fuck her or the 'ginger plague' might spread to them too, to another calling them 'poop-speckles' and saying you got them taking a cumshot after too much anal. Ridiculous, but words hurt. She'd always been self-conscious about them... Mom said she'd gotten them from her uncle, one of the few times she'd ever spoken of her brother except to warn them away from interacting, and maybe that's why she always had the sense that they were bad. But after that little show-and-mock incident, however bad she felt about them got a thousand times worse, because the boys were delighted by how upset she got and kept doing it to the point of tears... and after, the teasing quickly spread beyond those boys to what felt like the whole school. In the end, she had to beg her parents to let her change schools completely, where things got a little better. She'd almost laughed when Skinner suggested that being out of touch with her friends might be a hardship... that part was almost a blessing because at least she wouldn't have to worry that they'd turn on her over some perceived failing. There was always the chance that something they saw on the reality show would make her a target of more teasing, but on the other hand, at least she'd be famous... if she became so poor her family was on the street, that was even worse for her social reputation. Friends, real friends, would stick by her, but she could never be sure how many were real friends. The only thing she felt she might be risking was Paul, and even him, she could do with a two-month break from, and if he found somebody else and decided it was okay to do under-the-clothes stuff with them, that might just free her to enjoy the fruits of fame without guilt.

"I see," Skinner said, and he genuinely seemed sympathetic. "I saw the freckles on your face, thought they were a good thing then and still do now. Gives you character... and in my business I don't mean any bullshit like when people are trying to be polite about you being not as pretty. I mean that I know a large chunk of people find that a huge turn on. It adds to the whole girl-next-door effect we're looking for. Boys want to bang the girl-next-door, freckles or no freckles. Half their fathers do, too, if they could get away with it."

"The boys at my last school didn't," she said. "Even given the chance." Though Shirley was the one who decided to put her shirt back on and run out of the room when the teasing started, so she didn't know, maybe if she just took the abuse her last couple years would have turned out very differently.

"Nonsense. Boys your age, I'm sorry, they're idiots. They'll play along with any stupid idea. When I was in high school, all I could talk about when I was with my buddies was who was the most fuckable, and every one we named had large breasts, when really, the girl I wanted most was flat-chested. I still remember her, she was my literal girl-next-door that I was obsessed with. I was just scared my buddies would make fun of me, and I never made a move on Carlie." Mr. Skinner would later admit to Shirley that the fact that his neighbor Carlie was only twelve was more of a factor, but had clearly gotten over that embarrassment as well because that admission came as he played with her baby sister Tulip's newish nipple piercings while that flat chested twelve-year-old sawed slowly up and down on his cock. "School can be vicious, and it's often the ones people are most jealous of that they turn on when they see a weakness. I bet that's what happened to you. The freckles, they were just an excuse. People didn't care. Mostly. There's always going to be exceptions. Hell, for any body feature you can think of, I can show you people who are turned off by that and people who are looking for that exact thing, and plenty more who don't care because if you close your eyes it doesn't matter."

Shirley's parents had told her things like this before when things were at their worst, that plenty of guys liked freckles, that people at her old school were just jealous, but it never rang true from them like it had a hope of doing right then, because this guy didn't seem to have any motivation to lie to her. "Maybe..." she said. "I'm just still not sure your audience wants to see me in a swimsuit. Maybe if it was, like, tight but still covered everything."

"Our audience wants to see as much as possible. But like I said, I want to work with you. I like your family. I like your freckles. But if it would get you to loosen up, we could work around them. You know the Jenner sisters have freckles, but you hardly ever see them." Shirley did know, and she had tried to cover up or downplay her face freckles with makeup from time to time, but she had to do it when her mother wouldn't see or she'd tell her she shouldn't wear so much. "We'll probably want to keep your face freckles, but for everything else, if it meant getting you in a bikini after, Jackson could cover them up in the confessional... every day if we had to, couldn't you Jackson?"

"I mean, I'd have to see what I'm working with to say for sure," he said.
Shirley's head was still spinning from the prospect of getting to spend maybe an hour of Jackson Dong time every day that she didn't put together what was being suggested until Skinner said, "Here's your chance, if you'd like a professional opinion on whether your cleavage freckles really are something you need to hide."

"What, right now?" She looked around for anyone else in the area... nobody was, but there could be at any second. They were in a public park, a compromise, really, because they wanted privacy for the interviews, but Mom's instructions were not to go into any room alone with them, and so they were in an area of the park where nobody was actually watching but she could still scream if something started to go wrong. Unless they clamped a hand on her mouth first.

They showed no sign of that, though... in fact they were being utterly reasonable and professional. "It'd show you're capable of the kind of daring we're going to need from you eventually, right? Baby steps. Randy and I can look away, if it makes you uncomfortable."

And suddenly, Shirley did feel daring, fueled by the power of logic, because, really, showing a bra was nothing different than showing a bikini, and if she couldn't do that for three men in a park, how was she going to do it on a reality show? It would still be baby steps, but she could impress them with a bigger step than they offered. "You don't have to look away, it's just a bra."

So Shirley prepared to do what just that morning she rolled her eyes about and told her mother that of course she wouldn't. Part of it, anyway. "Don't pull up your shirt or lower her pants, under any circumstances, and don't do anything sexual no matter what they offer," Mom'd said, probably not realizing she was putting that idea in her daughter's mind again as a possibility. Because she didn't see it as likely, Shirley wasn't actually lying when she said she wouldn't, but now here she was making a liar of herself, pulling her shirt up, exposing her taut stomach, and already deciding that Mom didn't need to know--probably didn't want to know if it was going to cost them their chance at a lot of money they really needed.

As her shirt finally was about to slip free of the bottom curve of her breasts, in front of three adult men watching with clear interest, she held her breath and yanked, showing what she simultaneously thought of as her best feature and her worst feature, the best look yet at the shape of her boobs and the speckling pattern that, in her eyes, marred them.
The last time she showed them like this, it was also in a group of three, but those were boys, and doing it in front of men gave her more of a dirty thrill even though she was showing less, wearing a bra. Though the thought did cross her mind to pull that up too, only she wouldn't--unless maybe they asked.

There was no laughing, no 'eww, gross' reaction, despite the obvious cluster of dark spots that seemed to continue from her arms over her chest and down the breasts to about halfway. They disappeared around the nipple itself, possibly because even when she was in the comfort of their high-fenced backyard, getting some genuine sun on her body, that part was covered... but they hadn't asked to see her nipples yet so would have to wonder. Still, they could probably see that at the part just above where the bra began, the skin paled and the freckles just stopped. She was glad she wore one of her nicer bras to boost her confidence, even if she had no expectation anyone would see it.

She'd expected other people seeing it could only shatter her confidence, which made something of a paradox of feeling better wearing a stylish bra, but as it turned out, she was wrong, having three men stare at her cleavage, nodding approvingly, made her feel like she'd just climbed a mountain and even if she was still worried she might tumble right off it, it was still exhilarating. Even more when she heard the detailed reviews. Mr. Skinner said, "Well, those look pretty good to me. Sure there are freckles, but I like them, and the shape is phenomenal. I personally like them much smaller, my own personal taste, you understand, but in a job like mine I understand what the majority likes, and you're practically ideal for that. Of course, I don't think it's the shape you're worried about." He turned to his makeup man and said, "What do you think? Can you cover them up, if that's what she wants? Give them the old Jackson Dong treatment?" When he said it, the g wasn't soft at all, but he didn't get a correction from it.

Instead, Jackson just kept looking. "I could absolutely cover these every day, but shit, seems like a waste. It's like a Pollock painting, I'd rather add squirts than take any away." Shirley's heart fluttered at the compliment, even if she only half-understood it, then fluttered even more when he touched her breasts. That was a surprise, but it was prefaced with a "May I?" and she thought she nodded to give her consent or maybe he just assumed. She couldn't tell, the touch seemed to knock the last few thoughts out of her head. What she could tell, once she was able to evaluate, was that was a completely professional boob grab, just gently lifting them and pushing them together to make more of a cleavage shot, simulating them in some other kind of outfit and Shirley believed the only one with perverted feelings in the moment was probably her. He gently nudged her to face the last of the trio before finally letting go. "What do you think, Randy? Would you like to put these on film?"

"I would absolutely film those," he said. "Freckles or no freckles, they look good to me, and under the camera setup we've got, they'll look a lot lighter than in person anyway. I think the audience will appreciate them more with nothing covering them. The freckles I mean. Though, when I lived in London, they'd have a girl your age topless in the newspapers, Page 3. Not anymore, times have changed, but on television, they still tease young beauties like yourselves in swimsuits. They'd love a girl just like you even more for the freckles. Really, I'd say you'd be a prime candidate for the BBC."

"Maybe in time... but her big debut's already spoken for," Mr. Skinner said with a grin. "Looks like it's unanimous on our end. Nothing wrong with you. In fact, I bet whoever made you ashamed of those was probably just negging you."

"Negging?"

"Part of a classic seduction strategy, tear you down, hoping to get your self-esteem low enough to do what they want you to. It can be surprisingly effective, but it can also backfire." Shirley would later think back and realize that it had been regularly used during their two months on the show, but she didn't mind... the most powerful lesson she took out of that house, worth more than any check that might or might bounce, was that if she could get an orgasm as guys literally pissed on her or in her, or still get turned on while realizing that her old life was falling to pieces because the lewdest videos were circulating among everyone she knew... if she could do that, nothing could ever really stop her. The key to fulfillment could just run through her holes and whatever she got to fill them. But that was a wiser Shirley looking back, and even she had a sense that it all needed to be done in a special way, by an expert, knowing when to boost her confidence and when to degrade her.

Without that, you might just be left broken like she feared her daddy might be as she watched him standing in the bank, not yet in line, still too worried to even try to cash the checks. If the men she'd showed the parts she was most insecure about had laughed at her, or if they'd told her what they had planned for her and her family right then, she might have been broken too.

Instead, they acted like they cared about her and her opinion, building her up just enough to survive being torn down later. "I think we'd all like to show these au naturale, as they say. But what we think isn't what's important here. It's all about what makes our star Shirley comfortable. If you think you'd play to the camera better with these babies slathered with something, that's what we'll try."

Someone walked by the nearest path they were on, talking loudly on a cell phone, which reminded her how unnatural this all would seem to outsiders, and Shirley pulled her shirt down over her bra and covered herself again. "Then maybe I'll try and do my best without."

"Good girl," Skinner said. "But I don't like the sound of that maybe. A reality show like this is an opportunity few get, to completely reinvent yourself. I'm convinced that's going to be fun to watch, but there's a lot more than just my opinion involved here. I could tell the people with the money that you can be the kind of star we need, but..." he took a breath and gave one more shot of the honesty that had disarmed her so far. "I'm not going to lie, we're going to have to sell you," he told her. "There's a lot of potential here for us to help each other. We get a family that will appeal to our audience, and you get the fun chance to compete, to help your family, and maybe more, an opportunity for a whole new identity. But selling you is key. And that will go a lot easier if you're willing to help us. I know your mom laid down some rules, which is why we've been doing this in the park, but Jack's studio is nearby and we've got some new looks you can try on. Looks we can use to show off the people who make the decisions how versatile you can be. And maybe, along the way, we can even find one which makes you feel comfortable in your own skin. But for that, we need cooperation. Will you help us sell you, Shirley?"

After that, she couldn't help but agree, and she'd already broken one of Mom's rules, so why not another? So Shirley disregarded her mother's orders about going anywhere behind closed doors with the men (for the second time if you counted the car ride but it would be ridiculous to follow the instructions that far) and spent the rest of the afternoon in Jackson's studio. On her way she had a few doubts but decided that they'd been so nice to her so far, and if they were just using it as an excuse to try something perverted, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

It was tamer than she thought. The studio was spartan, a few lights and backdrops and cameras, and a room with a wardrobe already laid out as though they just rented the space recently but expected they might bring a teen girl here, which she didn't know was exactly the case. But they didn't touch her... or rather, they did, but only incidental touches, as Jackson or Randy gently guided her body into positions with the best lighting, or adjusted an outfit, grazing a nipple here or adjusting a thong bikini bottom there, or in one case Jackson squeezing her mound for a few minutes as he did some emergency landscaping while she held her breath as long as possible and tried not to twitch. Those touches were electrifying but, she decided, utterly professional.

The outfits, a few of those were a little on the sketchy side, but only just, and by comparison to what her mother had primed her to fear about a private photoshoot, not at all. And, like Skinner said, it was kind of fun to try out different clothing styles, different makeup, different looks... some she'd seen others at school rock but had resisted trying herself, even though all it would have taken was a friend's advice and encouragement. These men weren't friends, but she let them give her makeovers as a goth badass, e-girl with vibrant pink flare around her eyes, innocent Catholic Schoolgirl (her school didn't have a uniform, and if it did the skirt probably wouldn't be quite so short), and even some styles she'd never heard of or seen out in public. Some of those looked kind of weird. Like the one that looked almost like she was a human doll, with perfectly round circles of blush and lines that made it look like her mouth was on a hinge. Or the super tight vinyl short-shorts and crop-top combo with a full dog collar around her neck. Each 'look' was just for a few pictures and then it was off to change for another one--and change alone, because it turned out they were professional.

Despite the weirdness, Shirley quickly started to have fun with showing off, and each outfit--and the approval lavished on her that came along with them--gave her more confidence that she really could do this, step outside of the comfortable role she'd settled into. Jackson kept with him a small, pink-plastic hand mirror, like something you'd get out of a dollar store, but obviously with some kind of special sentimental value for him... he seemed to especially enjoy showing Shirley her own reflection, made up in one of these getups. Even if she was unsure about them before, actually seeing herself started to make her think she could pull these outfits off in front of a wide audience.

As the night went on, she grew more and more aroused... not just at having Jackson's attention on her while he reworked her makeup (and the few times she took a few extra minutes changing to rub her pussy in what she thought was the privacy of the changing room), but also at the growing conviction that she could look sexy, with the right lighting and effects, freckles and all. And confidence, a heady drugs which Shirley was discovering could be generated from outside as well as in. After all, if even looking at herself in a dollar-store mirror made her feel less like a fraud, wouldn't actually being recognized as a star be even better?

The last wardrobe changes involved a series of progressively skimpy swimsuits, as though they were daring her to call one of them 'too much' and prove that she couldn't be the star they wanted of her. Locked-in-one-place reality shows often involved a lot of lounging by a pool, she knew, and Shirley was determined not to balk. She wanted to make sure they knew that she could do that. But she'd expected she'd have to grit her teeth and fake her way through it... to her surprise, it was easy, even with the microkini which exposed not only far more skin than anyone had seen since three boys had made her hate her freckles, but also paler-than-her-normal-pale tan lines she worried might look ugly on camera. There was also some fear that it might expose everything if she bounced, but despite all that, she did it on request for the camera, even giggling at the possibility, and though the suit held, Shirley knew was ready for a reality show life now in a way she only pretended before. They'd baby-stepped her into showing off in a way that was almost inconceivable a few hours ago, and into allowing them to do whatever needed to be done, which, in the last swimsuit included Jackson doing a quick and dirty shave of some of her pubic hair while holding her mound to keep her steady. That had been the only thing that she'd balked at with the last outfit... she normally kept her area trim, but with that suit, some peeked out which she didn't think was allowed. Their solution made perfect sense at the time, and even though it would have been so easy for Jackson to pull the suit bottom completely down and look at her private lips, he only shaved just the parts which extended past the suit. That was what convinced her. Shirley, she told herself, these men are experts being utterly professional.

The biggest proof of that, in her eyes, was that they never once asked her to strip, something guys were always asking her to do, half-jokingly from classmates, online from anyone sliding into her DMs, and even on the street from leering strangers in a passing car who couldn't possibly have known if she agreed. A request for full nakedness by these men was an obvious step she'd been half-expecting through the last few costume changes, and now prepared to give them when they asked, but they never asked. Instead, after that last suit, they called time, then thought better of it and suggested they do one quick test of freckle-covering, just in case, while she had the skimpy bikini on. They had no interest in covering her face, either, where Jackson insisted he thought freckles were too cute to cover. That compliment in her mind, Shirley spent even more time with Jackson running his hands over her body... this time, her upper torso, and with a cream that loosely matched her skin tone.

This seemed the least professional part of the day, less applying a foundation than just slathering things on, not even using a makeup brush, almost made her doubt his credentials, but Jackson explained it was a special kind of industry term, a 'Wet and Messy' test, just to give people a sense of what they might like to do later. He did apologize off-handedly for the sloppiness, being rushed for time, and for not using his best supplies, but did not apologize for his hands dipping under the swimsuit fabric and rubbing there intensively. That was just to ensure a more even blend around difficult areas, he explained, so professional again, and, as it turned out, his professionalism with the application and the shave before ensured she was left in the changing room wet and messy even in places he didn't apply makeup. Shirley had to stay there an extra long time doing some intensive rubbing of her own, trying not to make a sound loud enough to be overheard, before putting her original clothes on.

By the time they returned to the home the Dowdys were about to lose, Shirley was back to looking like her old self, albeit with a warm glow, as well as better makeup on her face that she really loved, after seeing herself in Jackson's plastic mirror. Even the lipstick she wore was more dramatic a red than she usually liked, but for the moment, it felt natural. Shirley was also feeling pretty comfortable with the freckle-covering makeup, still smeared on her chest, and a much trimmer bush, but knew nobody in her family would see the last two anyway. So, she left out a lot of this story, but it was all contained in one big omission. As far as her mom knew, the men had filmed her out and about with her friends, and in the park, asked her some questions, and that nothing out of the ordinary happened. She was genuinely more excited than ever about joining the reality show, having been convinced that she could be very comfortable knowing other people were watching her.

In the end, as she waited in the bank for her father to get up the nerve to try and cash the checks, she would think back and decide that that kind of confidence was worth everything that had followed after it turned out those men weren't that professional after all, that they really were just out to sexually exploit her. And still worth it even if they were completely lying to the family about the money.

Maureen was the next member of the family to get her pre-show filming day, which started around the house capturing her doing various mom chores, laundry, cleaning, and so on. She was very conscious--in ways her children were not--at how sexualized some of the poses they asked of her were, even as Dowdy as she dressed, with Randy really liking to get shots of her bending over doing some mundane chore. By the time the time had come for her solo interviews, Dan and the kids were home so to ensure quiet and privacy they took her out to the same studio Shirley had been in the previous day, although with the costumes her daughter had to choose from removed and the place looking more like bare office space than anything else.

It was hard for Maureen not to notice the somewhat bored tone of the questions, as though they weren't really interested in what she had to say, but still tried to play along, be engaging... and then played along even more when the expected came. After she gave an answer to one last question--getting the distinct impression they weren't even listening--Skinner paused for a while, took a drink, then oh-so-casually mentioned that it was a very close decision between her family and the other contenders, and that it might come down to who wanted it more. Not who needed it more, because... well, she didn't know the other family, but she couldn't imagine they needed it more than hers. Even if they did, she definitely got the hint... they wanted her to volunteer to demonstrate just how much she wanted it.

In a way, that suggestion was a relief to Maureen, because it was her, and not her kids that this demand was being made of. Tulip wasn't that good a liar, and Shirley surely would have been traumatized instead of happy and excited, so the fact that they made their illegal sexual harassment attempt on the adult mother of the family was a good sign to her. Standard Hollywood casting couch shit, nothing that she had to be that outraged at. She could be, certainly, if she wanted to, but it was a choice, just like it was a choice to disregard the firm rules she'd given her daughters not to go with these strange men to a private location they controlled, or to bring a change of clothes just in case.

Maureen assumed that every mother thought about it at least once, no matter how conservative they might be: whether they might trade sex to help their family in some situation. Sometimes it was the dramatic 'trying desperately to get the family past the Nazi-guarded border' type situation she'd seen in movies, sometimes it was super-casual being willing to trade for a better deal to help balance the budget, or fuck a teacher for better grades for your child. Not that she'd done any of this, so far (she had fucked teachers to improve her brother's grades, but that was before she was married). She'd simply considered the possibility, like an academic exercise, on a surprisingly regular basis. Every time she thought about it, it always came down to the same thing... she wouldn't do it casually, but if the family really needed it, she was absolutely willing to make the sacrifice of her body, her dignity, and her fidelity. And in this case, she wasn't even sure the last one applied. The night before her background day started, her husband had advised her "do whatever you can to make them like you, remember how much we need this," as if she wasn't already going to deploy all of her charm. So if Dan didn't mean sexual stuff, didn't at least consider it as a possibility when he said those words, he was more of an idiot than she ever imagined. And if he had, then what she was doing was with his permission. She just wasn't sure about which was the case, because lately she'd started to feel like if he wasn't an idiot they wouldn't be in such a dire financial situation that this was necessary. She still loved him, but had lost a lot of respect for him lately.

And the family did really need this chance. If Maureen had taken this step before, took the initiative and offered herself to the man handling their loan to try and squeeze a few more months before the bank foreclosed, they might not be in this mess, and she wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. So, she closed her eyes, took a breath, pulled down on her blouse until her cleavage and a healthy amount of bra showed, and asked pointedly what she could do to prove that she wanted this more.

Unlike her husband, she knew how to negotiate. She rejected the first offer, but came prepared with a counter-offer: she would use her hands or mouth on all three of them, if they promised her that her family would be chosen. A bluff, really, since she was prepared to fold and give them more, but the only concession they demanded was that she be naked and they could cum anywhere they wanted. A better deal than she thought she was going to get, so Maureen agreed before they could add anything else.

"Good enough. But let's take this to the other room, so nothing gets captured on the security camera." He pointed to the corner, a little box she hadn't even noticed, and Maureen felt instantly better about her decision, then moved into the same room that her daughter used the other day to change between outfits, not considering that that room also had cameras that were just better hidden.
There, for the first time since her wedding day (the morning of, to be exact) she sucked on a cock not belonging to her husband, the first time she'd sucked more than one at a time since a birthday party for her brother when she was seventeen (which was the last time she let herself be persuaded that sucking off all of his friends could be her gift), and the first time since her bachelorette party she'd done it on a black guy.

First time ever to try one of the Asian persuasion, which was just a curiosity for her... the cock was like any other, longer than Randall's, or Skinner's, which was a bit of a surprise, but still within the range she was most comfortable with, although comfortable included them mouth fucking her into making gagging, gurgling noises and whipping up her own saliva into a froth that almost looked cumlike on its own.

Jeff Skinner was the boss of the group, and with that came first cumming rights. Her body worked on all of them simultaneously, sometimes all three competing for space in her mouth at once, trying to keep them all constantly stimulated with skills well honed from her teen years and gone rusty ever since, but Skinner showed he was a director by frequently directing when and where she should use what on whom. That meant it was mostly his cock in her throat and her hands jacking slowly on the others, except when he wanted a break so he wouldn't cum right away.

Maureen would have been happier to let them cum fast and get it over with, but she was hardly in a position to refuse, physically, ethically, or morally. Legally, maybe, but when you're on the wrong side of the other three you know you need to pick your battles, and she was saving hers to make sure they held up to their side of the deal. So she allowed breaks, allowed them to stretch the agreed-upon rules to include boob jobs and hot-dogging that threatened to poke into her asshole and violate all the rules, and was even prepared to allow more than one cum from each to count in the 'session' but only Jackson looked young enough that he might have more than one in him.

In all, it must have taken almost an hour of sucking and stroking before any of them got off, which Maureen almost took as an insult. Back when she was a Stroker, she could get a guy off in under a minute, three in almost the same time, but then she usually wasn't allowing breaks either. And Dan, well, he lasted a few minutes at his best, even with a half-hearted marital blowjob on his birthday. Still, Maureen wondered worriedly whether her skills had waned that much since she became a Dowdy, or if these guys simply had more stamina than the horny teenagers and middle-aged teachers she was used to.

Finally, though, Jeff Skinner fucked her mouth past his point of no return, holding her head and slamming deep enough that she was going to gag either from the rod going too deep or just from his pubic hair tickling her nose, but just before she was going to she realized he was shooting off in her mouth, the best case scenario, bypassing her tongue entirely, at least until he started to wilt and dribble. "Fuck, we should get you to train people how to do that." And she would--later in that reality house, when they had no way out or other options--train her daughters how to suck cock, although by that point they seemed remarkably experienced themselves and so the training must have been mostly for show. If she'd know that future, she might have gotten herself out of it, but since she didn't, she just swallowed, winked, and accepted the compliment while he pulled out. "Let's wrap this up though, I'm not paying for you to edge all night." Yup, definitely the group's boss, but she could appreciate he was a generous boss.

Jackson took possession of her mouth then, while she jacked on the dong of Randall to get him ready to go after. When Jackson was fully primed, he pulled out and aimed it directly at her tits, which she pushed together to better cup his sperm as it shot at her, although he did save one half-hearted squirt for her face and a rested the head of his cock on her tongue for the last few dribbles.

She pulled Randy's black rod to the same lips just seconds after, then inside, but he was almost ready and he, too, pulled out, told her to turn and bend over, and when she did, pushed his dick to the lips of her pussy. "You said we could cum where-ever we want, right?" he asked, and then answered before she could, "And I want to cum in your married pussy."

Maureen grunted like it was an unpleasant surprise, but honestly, it was nothing she hadn't expected... if anything, she was surprised all of them hadn't done that. It was a familiar trick, same trick her brother Richie used on the morning of her wedding--what she promised was going to be his last blowjob--and then he took advantage of a standing rule that he could cum anywhere to cum right in her pussy and leave her walking down the aisle with him still dripping out and into her white marital underwear.

So Randy sticking his cock right against her hole, even pushing the head in while he emptied his balls and potentially sent a wad of cum up her womb didn't faze her, especially since she was on the pill. If she wasn't, it would be a huge risk, even bigger than her wedding day tryst which technically wasn't adultery as it was still before she took her marriage vows. A baby who took after her uncle could be easily explained (indeed, she wasn't even sure Dan's sperm didn't win out on the wedding night to produce Shirley nine months later), but a black baby would raise questions she wasn't prepared to answer. This time, though, there'd be no answering necessary, so what was a little cum in her not-currently-fertile pussy to protect her family? Maybe there was some inherent risk considering he was a stranger, but he looked pretty clean and it was her understanding most sexually transmitted infections were curable.

The real risk that occupied her thoughts was them going back on their word. If she'd done all this for nothing she'd be pissed, at them, herself, at Dan, at the world, so she decided she needed to show them who was boss. When Randy finished cumming, she stood up, unashamed, like this was her idea, played with the cum on her tits with one finger and then drawing it away and watching the goo pull away in a viscous strand, and then said, "I trust our transaction is completed, gentlemen. I expect we'll be given a contract to appear on your reality show shortly."

She stared down Mr. Skinner, who seemed about to hedge. "You know, Mrs. Dowdy..."

Right now she didn't feel like a Dowdy, who would meekly accept things. Even when she was a Stroker, she did a lot of that, but she attempted to channel some of her brother's cock-sureness, and cut the man off. "We had a deal, and I held up my part of it. It may make me a whore, but whores get what they're due, or their customers regret it. In your case, I've got more than enough evidence to cry rape." In her mind, that was what it would have been, retroactive rape, just like a prostitute who got cheated, who didn't consent to an encounter where she didn't get paid, and Maureen Dowdy did not consent to three men violating her mouth and other areas except in that it would guarantee her family a spot on a life-changing reality show.

"Oh, no need for that," Mr. Skinner said. "Your family is absolutely in at this point, unless your husband spectacularly ruins the deal somehow. You have my personal guarantee. We'll get a contract to you in a couple of days. I was just going to say that you should probably act like you're still in doubt, worried, for your family. Unless you want your husband to know exactly what you did, in which case, hey, no skin off my back. Though just so you know we'd already pretty much convinced the backers to select your family, we were just trying to up the suspense so we could surprise you with a big announcement on camera. But then you asked us what you could do to prove you wanted it more, and, well, you can't really expect us to ignore an opportunity like that." He grinned then, and put Maureen more in doubt about what she'd done than if he'd just refused to pay up. The thought that she didn't even have to was harder to deal with than that they might try to cheat her. "So, all I was going to say was... try and act surprised when we tell your family."

He was probably lying, she decided as she put her clothes back on, without cleaning herself off just so she could preserve evidence, in the event she needed to make good on her threat. She stopped at a gas station on the way home and changed into a cleaner, much more Dowdy outfit, so that the rest of the family wouldn't know what she'd done.

When she waited in the bank, they all knew what she'd done, and her girls probably should hate her, but they didn't seem to yet. Maybe they would when the checks bounced. At least Maureen expected that to happen, realizing even before her husband that this whole expedition to try and cash them was probably one last humiliation they had to endure before they decided what to do with their lives next. It was so calculated she was half-looking for a hidden cameraman everywhere during their journey, somebody discretely tailing them and recording their current situation in their old town, maybe for one last part of the show, a montage comparing their lives and looks before and after.

She hadn't seen anyone filming--at least nobody who didn't seem like an ordinary passerby filming a family dressed as outrageously as hers was--but she could see the choreography since they were given the prize on the way out of the house, starting from the outfits they got to choose to return to the normal world in. Gone were the wide variety of choices they were allowed in the house--skimpy, provocative, but still choices--on their way out they were naked with just three outfits to choose from and had to decide which each member of the family would wear. Four outfits, technically, but there was no way Dan was going to wear any of the other three outfits and walk into the bank like a first time drag queen trying to cash a check for a half million dollars.

And two outfit choices, really, because there was no way her youngest was going to wear anything other than her Poodle Skirt, and of the tops, that gauzy pink top was also the obvious choice for her, because with the others there was no way to hide her nipple piercings and the chain connecting them to her leash. So, as long as she wore that specific outfit, people might mistake her for a normal twelve-year-old with a whorish family, not as somebody just as corrupted as them... at least as long as Rocket didn't start humping her.

With Dan and Poodle's wardrobe decisions made, it was just up to her and Shirley to argue over what the two of them would wear when they were dropped off on a city street with a bundle of checks and no cash to their name. And there was no argument to be had, really, Shirley liked showing off her chest now, and a teenager could get away with something that skimpy, even if it made people think she was a whore.
That left Maureen with the last outfit, a black leather miniskirt with a slit on each side and no underwear, and a very threadbare white t-shirt. That shirt technically covered more than her daughter but you could see the shape of her breasts straining against the fabric, her nipples threatening to poke through, and through the gaps in the fabric as they stretched, even the darker outline of her areola... and all that was before she started to sweat in the hot sun.

But the most provocative of all was the bold text in the front, hard to miss by anyone in the street, proclaiming, "INSERT BLACK COCK, ANY HOLE, ANY TIME." They might have to take a second, because Maureen did get one small victory over Skinner's plan by turning the shirt inside out just before they started their walk, but the words were visible from either side, just backwards, and for anyone who could do that simple mental reversal the shirt was quite an admission, and an invitation.

Sitting there in the chairs at the bank offered some protection from people who might try to take her up on the offer, but she'd noticed, among the eyes on her and her family as Dan tried to decide what to do, one black bank teller and a security guard who were giving her that "I might take her up on that," look. Or a "I'm probably going to have to escort them from the building," look.

Could easily be both, the second followed by the first, and maybe that was what her husband was waiting for, them getting kicked out so he could hold onto the dream that the checks were real a little longer.
That dream was one that Maureen had not taken with her from the house. There was an outside chance, she supposed, that Skinner might have thrown in a few real checks in with the fakes, just so they wouldn't be left having to whore for spare change, but she wasn't counting on it.

If they actually got a half million dollars out of this, as Dan still seemed to think was possible, she'd probably faint with surprise. After all, in the later days of the house, while she had Jackson Dong's dong in her hand, stroking it to assist one of their impregnation challenges, this one with her daughter Shirley, her ovulation measured to be at the peak baby-making time and Mom had to be the one who milked the load in, for the challenge to count. Maureen was going along with it, of course, had no choice to, but had decided to play it as though she wasn't there at all because Shirley still had a little infatuation with Jackson. He'd been the one who'd fucked her the most and spent many nights in her bed, so if this was going to be her chance to get knocked up by him, Maureen was going to just play the shadow. They'd been lowkey flirting while Maureen pumped the man's shaft, rubbed the head around the inner lips of her eldest daughter and assisted in an impregnation a mother had no business allowing, much less assisting... but at one point Shirley stopped mid-thought and, maybe inspired while watching as her mother jacked-on dong, asked, "Is your name really Jackson Dong?"

The rather handsome naked man gave a sheepish grin and said, "Nah. Dong's more of a last name in Chinese, Vietnamese circles. I can't tell you my real name, but I'm actually mostly Japanese, if you ever want the kid to get to know his heritage. But I liked the pun." And of course, once that was confirmed, she got the pun, and then she knew that Randy M. Ferr wasn't a real name either, he was just a Randy MFer. Jeff Skinner's name didn't make a groan-worthy pun, but considering everybody involved in that production was involved in the sexual exploitation of minors, the logical inference was that it was a fake name.

Which made perfect sense, considering what they'd been doing. She was under no illusions at that point that what she was doing was a real challenge for an extreme reality show... she just pretended, that, but still held onto some hope that they might get the money at the end. Before that discovery, there was a chance this started as a real show and they were just perverts taking advantage of a situation, relying on the family's shame about accepting money for all the immoral and illegal stuff the Dowdys had done--not to mention their own enjoyment of it--to protect themselves from retribution. If these instigators were all using fake names from the getgo, Maureen knew there was no way they'd be handing out real checks connected to an actual bank account, no matter what her dumb husband believed.

Maybe Skinner's name was a pun, of a sort, because he went one step beyond fleecing them. Being cheated out of money they could recover from, but they'd had their old lives forcibly peeled away. They were fucked as a family, the girls of the family had been very fucked in every hole for weeks straight, and once they got rid of this delusion that it they were going to be richly rewarded for starring in the first--what she'd hoped was the first--child porn reality series, they could move on in their new skins. Maybe Dan would let them go back and accept Skinner's offer for other projects, or maybe they'd go for their previous last resort option and move in with her family, the Strokers. She'd once sworn she'd never expose her children to her brother Richie, but at this point, it didn't seem like it'd do any more damage to them. No, in truth, she was looking forward to that possibility, and it was certainly better than the street. Possibly better than Skinner, although she wasn't sure about that. There was definitely some upsides to what he layed out for them, even with the body modifications he'd said they would require... but Dan rejected that deal without even asking what she thought, so they might have lost their chance. If she did have to go home, at least she wouldn't have to worry about her brother knocking them up with incest babies, not until they'd had their current interracial ones at least. All interracial except Tulip's, of course, which--unless interspecies pregnancies were a thing--had to be Skinner's, since he and Rocket were the only ones to dump a load inside Maureen's youngest daughter--in the pussy, at least--around her pregnancy.

Probably too difficult to get a discreet abortion for them all, at least in this state, and she'd always been somewhat opposed to that anyway, so Maureen figured they would eventually add a significant strain on their already strained finances, and she looked to her husband, still too nervous to approach the teller, and wondered if she should just cut out the dead weight, decide with the girls what offer to accept, maybe after a family whoring session to get money for a cab because she was tired of walking in fuck-me pumps.

She still loved her husband, in the way you might a dumb but beloved pet, but from her perspective, Dan had changed the least since the reality show started, outwardly and probably in his attitudes as well, and maybe that meant he didn't fit in with the rest of the family anymore. Especially if he thought they were going to meekly try and go back to their old lives, with or without whatever money was promised.

Maureen was wrong about her husband. Inside, he'd changed an awful lot... still not nearly as much as the rest of them, of course, and he still passed for normal outside. This was probably because he was never the focus, only an impediment to be worked around, and eventually an afterthought, a way to increase the kink and satisfy their viewers by watching a father tempted into fucking both of his daughters. Who knew the Dowdy patriarch had that in him?

When it was his turn for Skinner and his crew to film background material, Dan Dowdy stood out by not standing out at all. Of course, nothing particularly improper happened with him that day, no subtle manipulation or outright abuse that the female members of his family experienced. No evidence of the same either, and when Jackson had mentioned that his wife had one of the finest faces he'd ever cum across, he took it as a genuine compliment from a makeup expert.

Since Dan was now unemployed, they couldn't film him at work and he didn't do much around the house but sit around on his computer, so there wasn't a lot of filming needed. They focused a little on his relationship with his kids, got him to make a few dad jokes for the camera, and then moved into the boring interview portion.

Just like his wife and daughter, Dan did have his moment where he thought the whole deal depended solely on him--even though his decisions were least relevant--and it took the form of a heart-to-heart with Jeff Skinner. He correctly got the sense from the dull questions that they were going through the motions of the interview, wrongly guessed it meant that they'd lost interest, and worried that it signalled that they were out of the running entirely. Knowing the foreclosure was coming, he interrupted his own answering of a question, looked Skinner in the eye, confessed the same thing his daughter did, that the family really needed this, that it might be their last hope.

"I want to help you man, I do. You seem like the same kind of guy as me... I mean, obviously, more of a family guy, and I envy that of you. I want kids one day myself, if the right girl comes along. Listen, Dan, are you a religious man?"

Dan admitted that he was, said he'd been praying to God every day that they get selected, and then froze, spooked, worried he'd fallen into a trap, believing that Hollywood was full of godless liberals who mocked genuine religious faith.

Instead, Jeff moved from his spot in the chair pulled across from Dan and came up beside him on the couch. The Hollywood executive seemed to know exactly what was going through the family man's mind as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with it, man. I'm a God-fearing man myself."

Which might have been true, but the God Dan Dowdy had in mind and the God Jeff Skinner had in mind were very different Gods. Eventually, inside what Dan thought was a reality show that had gone a little over the line in terms of taste, he would attempt to stand up for his faith to protect his daughters, too late to do any good, and start to learn a little more. That day, he learned that Skinner believed in a Bored God.

The only reason--Skinner rationalized out loud that day--to create a universe of humans and watch them all the time was if it entertained Him. Skinner sounded a little like a voice of God himself at the time because he was just a voice in the house's Confessional Room where Dan sat when he first brought up those worries. Skinner continued his line of thought, explained that he thought the best clue as to what God found exciting was not the Bible, but rather our own impulses. Why create somebody with desires to do things, unless you want to watch them do it? Even if society called them bad, they were the things God wanted to watch... after all, we were made in His own image. What got us excited would get him excited, if done on a big enough scale. But it looked like God was having a problem in recent years. "Lately, it's become pretty clear that he's getting bored--fuck, just look at politics these last few years," he'd said, arguing that it showed that Humanity was failing or that God was needing to be entertained in more and more extreme ways.

In short, God was a classic porn addict. Not just porn, of course, but Hollywood's long known the best ways to grab someone's attention was sex or violence, and violence was much less fun to produce, much less fun to live through. "If God getting too bored, that's not good for humanity. He starts intervening, might start another world war, or worse... if he starts getting tired of humans, he might cancel the whole lot of us and start watching another species. Maybe destroy this whole universe. So I do my part to keep God happy."

In subsequent conversations, some enhanced by pot in a secret movie theater Dan would come to spend time in, Skinner, with the zeal of a true believer, would insist that this wasn't just a point of view to excuse his perversions, that he'd seen evidence, actual literal miracles, hidden out in the normal world, dollar store items imbued with magical effects and would inevitably be used in irresponsible ways. Like some of the twisted dreams he offered in his own reality show. An encounter with one of these objects had firmly convinced Jeff Skinner that what God wanted most out of humanity was to be more entertaining, and that's why he set out on a personal mission to produce kinky scenes for God to enjoy. But that was later in their stay, after Dan had already watched his wife break one of the Ten Commandments and both his daughters break the apparently less serious Biblical rule against sex with animals (it had, after all, never made the Top Ten).

"Maybe God just wants us to follow the Bible?" Dan had said upon first hearing this Bored God theory, when he hadn't seen as much and his biggest sin was a blowjob that he was starting to hope God was entertained by, because the alternative was that he was hellbound (despite 'Thou shalt not accept a blowjob from your own preteen daughter,' also not making the Top Ten, unless it also counted as adultery).

"Oh, I follow the Bible, but not in the way you think. After all, why make rules against incest, adultery, bestiality, and so on... except that it was so much hotter when people broke them." Skinner took Dan on a real spiritual journey after that, which started with an actual physical journey, when a side door to the Confessional Room opened up--for the first time in Dan's sight--and Skinner himself appeared, like the voice of God made manifest. He invited Dan Dowdy for a walk outside of the Confessional Room and through the house, using the backstage pathways behind the two-way mirrors that concealed cameras, to secretly see some things that were artfully hidden from him... some he'd suspected, like his wife cheating on him with some of the guests invited into the house, others surprising like his eldest daughter squealing while getting knotted by a dog. "Normally, it'd be Tulip," Skinner explained as they watched unobserved, "But I think God would love to watch your little girl get a face full of horse cum and... you know how much a pain it is to rent a horse for something like that, way out here? But finally we got one in and we're setting up that shot right now. You want to watch that too?"
Dan had to admit, after the stunned state wore off, that all of that was pretty hot to watch, and was praying God thought so too, because if He did, then maybe He wouldn't be so disappointed by that incestuous blowjob either. And allowing the scenes he watched happen made it easier for Dan to allow more. By the end of their time in the reality house, Dan Dowdy wasn't sure he was ready to fully convert to this Bored God worldview, but he was a lot closer, and every conversation with Skinner had been enlightening, particularly when they happened while watching his family get degraded in more and more creative ways.

But during his pre-show interview day, Dan was simply reassured, as a Christian, by Skinner's apparent faith in what he assumed was the same traditional Judeo-Christian God. Since Jesus' name hadn't actually come up, he wondered a bit if Skinner might be Jewish instead of Christian, but he respected someone of that faith much more than an atheist and so he listened respectfully to the advice given. "But you and I know, we're out in a world full of sinners, and compromises must be made. Just to make a good show. And that's my only concern, that you might not be willing to go along with things. So that's why I wanted to have this heart-to-heart with you, as one God-fearing man to another. I will try to be as honest with you as I can throughout this whole affair. Obviously I won't be able to tell you everything, and sometimes I'll have to creatively misdirect you, but I swear to you, before God, that providing happiness for your wife and daughters is one of my primary goals." Looking back Dan had cause to wonder if he'd actually said "providing a penis" and not "happiness," although they did seem happier, in a manner of speaking. But whatever he'd meant, he continued, "As much as I can give them, really. Now, a lot of people in Hollywood are in it for the money, and don't get me wrong, I want to make a lot of money off this, but in the end, I just want to entertain, and to make dreams come true."
He paused, then, picked up his phone and did something Dan had seen a few times, tapped a few buttons which turned it into a recording device for personal notes. "Here's a thought," he said. "We can call it something like the Dreams Cum True House, or maybe Twisted Dream House, something along those lines, make a whole theme around it." He turned off the recorder, smiled, and said, "Sorry, marketing and promotion, a necessary evil. Still, it's a theme I think we could have fun with. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. I'm in the business of making dreams come true. What I need from you is a promise to play along for a while, even if things look like they're going in a direction you wouldn't approve of, just remember we're putting on a show, and we need someone who can play it cool. A lot of fathers would be upset if, say, their wife or even their daughter pranced about in a bikini for the cameras, and I can totally understand that, but if that's going to be a breaking point for you, it isn't going to be your dreams we can make come true."

Dan had breathed out a sigh of relief, then, thinking that this was going somewhere bad, but he'd already considered that possibility, was okay with it. He wasn't a total prude, after all, and he knew that the real problem was that his daughter, Shirley, wouldn't want to wear a bikini herself. She only wore two-pieces occasionally in the backyard kiddie pool, and even then, they didn't show much. Maureen, she might choose a full bikini, and although he had, in preparing for family beach trips in the past, criticized her for swimsuit selections that were a little too revealing in his book, he could swallow his pride for the chance at a half million. "I promise," he told Skinner. "I can tone down the religious stuff. Heck, if people in oppressive countries can practice secret Christianity, I can." Indeed, he'd been starting to feel that his own country was starting to be oppressive that way and worried that this reality show would be just the same standard Hollywood crap.

It wasn't, of course... it was much worse. But in the process, it had changed his life, his family, and his understanding of his relationship with God. Whether or not he'd lied (or technically-not-lied-merely-mislead as he'd done about so many other vital things), whether or not the checks Dan held in his hand would be honored, Skinner had actually made dreams come true... just not the kind of dreams he'd ever admitted. They were the kind that he used to feel ashamed of and left him relieved that his Church never had a confessional, because as much as he might be able to convince himself that God forgave him for those impure impulses... sharing it with a priest was another matter.

Now he wasn't even sure he needed God's forgiveness for those dreams, or for acting them out. If Skinner was right about God needing some really good porn, he'd helped provide it. His family, mostly, although he did his part, breaking one of the big taboos by having sex with each of his daughters, and his first time ever trying sodomy. He hoped God found that as much of a hoot to watch as doing it turned out to be. Or maybe he'd damned himself.

Either way, he was pushed into it, at first, which might mean that he was neither the best nor the worst of the family. And either way, it wouldn't necessarily help him if the world found out, which was why he was lingering with the reality checks in hand, trying to decide whether it was worth trying to cash them.

After his interview, Dan was obscenely hopeful of their chances, hopeful of their future, a future which he thought might involve some compromises but was for the greater glory of God, in the end. And, when his prayers were answered and Skinner gathered the family a few days later and got them on camera to hear his announcement that the Dowdy family were officially chosen to enter what was now officially called the Twisted Dream House, he joined the spontaneous family hug and happy cheering with unrestrained enthusiasm. Off camera, they were given contracts (which involved a hefty non-disclosure agreement that covered even more than the earlier one) and a few days to wrap up their affairs, which they needed because their time in their own house was just about up anyway.

It was advised they leave their phones with trusted friends or family, since they couldn't take them into the house, but since the Dowdys were going to lose their house anyway they put them into a storage unit along with the rest of their precious family possessions, where they'd given an advance payment for six months. Surprisingly, the production company fronted some money to Dan Dowdy, to help with this, or maybe--because it was given in cash--it was just a personal act of kindness and mercy, that Jeff wanted to help out and claimed it was the company behind him to disguise it. In return he asked only that they be given a key so that if they needed to, they could bring out a precious family item as a reward... which did give Dan one of his few early doubts about the whole scenario as he nursed a seed of suspicion of the absolute wrong thing, that it might be a ruse to steal from them. It seemed like such an elaborate scheme to steal from a family who already was on the verge of losing everything, but possible In the end, he was a man of Faith and so chose to believe it was just generosity.

Now, as he stood in the bank, Dan remembered that earlier fear, no longer so trusting in Jeff's generosity, and now wondering if not only would they be left with no money but also no possessions, one last twist of the knife. That was another part of his hesitance to approach the bank tellers. If they actually got cash, everything would be fine, but one disappointment would make the other even more likely.

In those early days, Jeff had seemed probably trustworthy, generous, honest, and the best hope of their happiness, and so the entire Dowdy family all got in the windowless back of a white van to be transported to the secret location of the Twisted Dream House that would change all of their lives.

Dan half-expected the first twist would be the house itself, that it would turn out to be some kind of run-down shack that they had to fix up, providing an entertaining storyline and a hint of Survivor-like hardship. But when they emerged from the van and got their first look, the large wooden building looked more like a millionaire's getaway cabin than a shack, although given the location, out in the woods, it probably cost far less than a house that size would in a city.

The entire area, inside and out, was fenced, and they were already inside that fence. Just behind the van was a big gate leading to the route back to civilization. Another set of barred gates blocked off the front from the backyard, two layers of protection from prying eyes... or just locking them inside and isolated, like prisoners. But if they were prisoners, at least it was a hell of a cage, two stories and everything looking new and clean, like they'd just spent the spring building or at least remodelling the whole place, which, since the family thought this was a regular reality television show, made sense.

"This is the last time you'll see the front of the house," Skinner said, "For the next two months anyway. Or if it isn't, it's because you've given up, walked out, or been expelled for breaking one of the big rules, and so abandoned your shot at that half-million dollar check. Once you enter that door, this Twisted Dream House is your entire world, understand?" They nodded. "Okay, the cameras are all set up inside, for minimum interference from us, but assume you're being watched at all times. Follow all instructions given to you on the televisions or loudspeaker. On the count of ten, you can enter your new house and get started on your new lives."

And then Skinner counted down, and the collective excitement of the Dowdy family grew with each number spoken. By the time they were down to a three count, they all had big grins on their faces. By one, they were practically vibrating. And when Skinner said "Go," they ran for the door and explored the inside of the house, certain that they were, if not already stars, at least somewhere on that path.
Their first hour in the house did nothing to shatter their dreams. It was a bit smaller on the inside than the outside, dead areas which they all assumed must have included hidden pathways for producers and cameras behind ever-present two-way mirrors, but still much more spacious and generally cleaner and more stylish than their own cluttered home. The family started out together but split up quickly as they explored different areas, although there was enough time for them all to show each other some of the house's more unique features.

Certain areas in the house were blocked off for 'adults only' or 'kids only' but most of it was open enough that you could still mostly see people in these restricted areas from outside it. Though there were notable exceptions. The most obvious of those was the Confessional Area, which was a purple-walled block with a red light over the doors to signal when whoever inside was filming something private. But other than that, there were very few doors in the place. Even the bathrooms were open, although the shower was surrounded by frosted glass and there was a door for the toilet itself which made it look like they could get some privacy there. With all the obvious spaces for cameras the family didn't suspect even more hidden cameras there.

There were other things that stood out as different from any kind of house they lived in. Bedrooms all contained single-sized beds, which made sense to Dan and Maureen Dowdy as a way to discourage marital activities, and only became alarming when challenges began that involved sharing the tiny beds anyway. There were the unusual art pieces scattered throughout, including one wall that was covered in spike-like projections of different sizes and shapes, the one Shirley immediately called 'the wall of dicks' because that's what they looked closest to, and Maureen shushed her... though privately agreed. There were the stationary bicycles in the kids-only section, just barely visible from parts of the adults-only section. The divided areas themselves were just marked with signs, but signs warning that crossing into an unauthorized area--without being instructed to--counted as a minor rule violation. Minor rule violations, according to the pre-show instructions they read on the ride over, meant that earned privileges might be revoked or additional punishment challenges created. Repeated minor rule violations, or failing punishment challenges, were grounds for expulsion from the house. Major rule violations, for things like violent assault, meant immediate expulsion. Even though it was a minor rule, having areas the parents couldn't go did strike Maureen as a little strange, unless you wanted to be able to isolate somebody vulnerable.

But these oddities all fled from their mind in excitement when Tulip finally found the door to the big fenced backyard and yelled for everybody to look. It too was even bigger than their backyard at home, and the grass was green and luscious in a way theirs rarely was. Perhaps it wasn't even appropriate to call it a backyard at all, because the whole area was covered, making it technically 'indoors,' and there was a set of doors at the other end warning that leaving would be considered 'leaving the house' and forfeiting any chance at money. The ceiling was an array of windows that still let the sun in, albeit filtered and with a grid of shady spots. Skinner had mentioned this on the ride over, that it was designed to protect them from UV damage so the family could spend a lot of time by the pool without fears of burns, or, over longer term, prematurely aging the skin. Nobody wanted that, he insisted, although said that the ceiling windows would be opened for a small amount each day for real sun, and would be, if everybody had a liberal amount of sunscreen applied. But for the most part, the area looked like a backyard, with a wide grassy area, a swing set, a stand-up shower for some reason, and, of course, a pool.

After a long ride in a stuffy van, the pool looked like heaven, even if it was just a large rubber inflatable pool. They had a much smaller inflatable pool back at the house (now in storage), so this was less than they expected, but they quickly saw the thinking behind it. Big enough for all of them at once, but too shallow for a serious risk of drowning--so important when minors were involved--and easier to clean and maintain and, probably, fill with other stuff for challenges. That it wasn't a full, built-in pool was disappointing but it was still, undeniably, a pool, much bigger than any they'd ever owned and still theirs for the summer to use whenever they want and so, still exciting.

Tulip and Shirley still wanted to just jump in and get wet for a while, but Mom reminded them that they didn't actually have any swimsuits, or any clothes beyond the ones they currently wore, and there was no way either of the kids were allowed to just dive-in in underwear. That was another of the oddities Maureen had already clocked in their first frenzied survey, that there, so far, were no clothes in any of the closets.

And anyway, swimming was off the table for other reasons, because after a brief look they were told they had to go inside again so the backyard area could be prepared for their first competition.

Some more casual exploration followed, kids choosing which bed they wanted to be theirs, looking through the empty kitchen cupboards, starting to worry a bit, but then they heard a voice through the ceiling, a voice all of the Dowdys recognized as Jeff Skinner, inviting them to all gather in the shared living room, which, much like Big Brother had a large television and a bunch of couches. Once they were settled, he spoke again, a little more theatrically but still unmistakably him. "Welcome Dowdy family, to the Twisted Dream House. This is a house capable of granting many of your wildest dreams... but sometimes, those dreams come with a twist! Some are good twists. Some might be uncomfortable enough to turn your dream into nightmares." Here the lights flickered on-and-off in an attempt to provoke spookiness. Tulip was the only one who felt any of that, but they all played along, really hammed it up. "But the key to a lifetime of good dreams is learning to roll with the twists, have fun any way you can manage. If you can do that and last the whole two months without giving up, your family will walk out of here with a check for five hundred thousand dollars! Now that's a dream come true!"

This wasn't new information, but they all were familiar with reality shows and knew that at this point, everybody always acted like they were super excited, as though hearing this information for the first time, and so they did likewise, clapping and making exaggerated 'wow' faces. "Along the way, there'll be a variety of both mandatory challenges and voluntary tasks you can choose to perform. Most of these will only be worth Dream Bucks, our special in-house currency that you can use to buy certain perks like better food, fashionable clothing, or immunity from certain twists... but like most dreams, Dream Bucks and everything purchased with them will be gone when you return to reality. However the most difficult challenges will have a real dollar value attached... completing these tasks, or winning these challenges, will add to your Reality Check Stack... an actual stack of checks you can take with you when you leave, win or lose." Another pause for applause from the family. "Finally, this house itself is very special... there are hidden secrets scattered throughout the grounds... like, a secret milkshake dispenser you can use any time you want. Or a secret private movie theater. But the most special secrets are there are the Dream Tokens that we'll periodically hide in unlikely places. These will allow whoever finds one to request their own custom Dream reward... with a twist, of course. But be warned, you have to be careful what you wish for, because if you refuse to honor a Dream earned and requested by someone in the house with a Token--twist and all--that means an end to your time there." That was new, and a little scary. "You'll have to keep your eyes open for the clues. Your first clue is, there is a Dream Token in a place you go if you want to get wet. But speaking of getting wet... are you ready for your first challenge?"

They were, that first day.

Some of the later ones, not so much. But not being ready didn't really stop them.

Their first challenge was innocent, really, it was the aftermath that was a bit of a shock to them. The relative difficulty of the task might have raised a few suspicions as well, and Maureen at least started to think early on that the challenge was designed so that there was no way they could have won. The backyard game was mostly set in the pool, now filled with whipped cream, and hidden inside were marshmallows, and the goal was to collect enough marshmallows to build a tower to reach a line on the wall before the time ran out. Win, and the Dowdys would get their choice of dinners for the week, lose, and it was the ominous-sounding Dream Gruel.

Easy in concept, difficult in practice, finding marshmallows in a pool full of whipped cream was like finding needles in haystacks, only a lot messier, with the whole family groping frantically, often getting cream in their faces. Things got chaotic. With all that fumbling around--both inside the pool and navigating in and out of the rubber edge to the stacking area--often marshmallows in hand got squished or something other than marshmallows got grabbed, innocently of course, even when Dan Dowdy did the grabbing on his daughter Shirley, too big for a marshmallow but if he could hardly see, how could you blame him?

In all that chaos, they failed the challenge, which meant their first meal in the house would be Dream Gruel, a food they would come to loathe in those first few weeks, like a runny oatmeal mixed with creamed corn and a few special ingredients to add protein. For a little solid matter to sop it up with and provide at least the tiniest amount of variety, they also provided an unappetizing green bread, which, they were told, was made from ground up dried peas mixed into the dough. The pea-dough-made bread and runny gruel did not make for appetizing meal times. Nutritious enough, supposedly, but after a while, enough to make people crave anything in their mouth with a little meat to it and work as hard as necessary to get that. Or at least that was the idea.

The unpleasantness of Dream Gruel was their second discovery, though, for they hadn't yet had a mealtime and there was a more immediate concern after the competition. After washing away the whipped cream left on their bodies in the stand-up shower, in their clothes, which left them standing in uncomfortable wet fabric and seeking a change, the family went to their respective rooms, looked in the closets which were no longer empty, but conspicuously not full either, and that was when the voice in the ceiling told them all one of the rules of the house. "Like most things in the house, in order to have access to clothes that you want, you have to pay for them with Dream Bucks, and so far none of you have earned any. Now, of course, it would be unfair to force you to go naked, or walk around in wet clothes, so the house does provide a supply of underwear and swimwear which you can use for free. Everything else, you'll have to earn."

It didn't seem so bad, at first, all of them planning to spend time around the pool anyway, so changing into swimwear while their clothes dried seemed like not that big a deal, even if the backyard was closed because the pool needed some time to be cleaned first. That is, it didn't seem so bad until the second part of the twist revealed itself, that one of the Dreams the Dream House came baked in with was Maureen's dream of never having to do laundry, said offhandedly during her background day, made real in a particularly unfair way in that any clothing, once worn, would disappear if left unattended for more than the length of a shower.

Which meant until they won enough challenges to earn better clothes--which would also only last until they were used--the Dowdy family would be left wandering the house in swimsuits or underwear and some of them were not very Dowdy indeed. Enough were tame and unrevealing enough to not raise immediate alarm bells, but there were also selections that would likely get perverts tuning in if they saw some underage girls parading around in them. A few were positively indecent, unless you thought an underage girl could be decent in crotchless lacy panties, garter belts or a bra made of fishnets. They didn't have to wear those outrageous options, of course, and Maureen didn't even get to see what was in her daughters' closets as she was restricted from that area, but what she had in her own wardrobe was worrisome enough, along with the worry that, because of the No Laundry rule, the outfits they could accept would slowly dwindle and within a few weeks be left with only the other type, and whatever they could earn.

The contents of those closets and the rules that governed them should probably have been the first big sign to the family that there was something deeply wrong about this house, but about half of them had already made promises that they were willing to be 'cool' about things that might normally balk at, one was too young to really notice anything unusual, and Maureen, well, she was certainly nursing a sick feeling in her stomach, but didn't say anything, in the hopes she was just being overcautious.

Everyone in that family needed a reality check, in other words. And they'd all get them, over time. Indeed, over the course of the next few weeks, each of the Dowdys had their own moments where they started to think things were amiss, and reality check moments where they knew they were totally fucked, and finally a moment where they decided 'oh well' and decided to enjoy being fucked, either literally or figuratively but usually both at once.

Tulip--while she still mostly went by Tulip--was the last to know she was getting screwed up for life. In her mind, for the longest time, this was just a reality show. A fun, extreme reality show, but she was young enough to think that even being fucked by a dog might be just the weird sort of challenge a reality show might plausible do. That she'd never seen it happen on television before didn't prove anything, shows like this were always trying crazy new ideas, and what was more crazy then letting a dog hump you? It all made sense, kind of, as a dream twisted by the Twisted Dream House. Sure, she eventually clued in, and right around the time she figured out getting everybody pregnant--including her--really was a goal she did start to worry that her family might regret coming to the house.

And when they gave Tulip her Twisted Dream Wedding, the ceremony where they convinced first her, then her parents, to promise to God to give her pussy only to Rocket and whichever man is considered his owner (right now that probably meant Daddy since Mr. Skinner did make him a gift before they left), the reality check hit and she knew that there might not be a way back to return to normal. Sure, they could break the physical chain that attached her to her new canine husband, but even so, the little girl knew that a vow before God was a big deal, and that it and the tattoo that commemorated it (a hollow dog paw with the rules for her pussy written inside it) were supposed to last her whole life. That was when she knew her old dreams about growing up were probably no longer possible... but she quickly adjusted as those dreams didn't really take into account orgasms which were by this time much more important to Poodle than a good career and a cute husband. The realization about orgasms came pretty early, but her doubts and eventual acceptance--highlighted by her decision to swap her nickname and what she once considered her 'real' name--only came in the last week or so... for far too long she just played along with what she thought was a game.

Not just a game, but a fun game, and a game she was really really good at and the whole world was going to see just how good. Not much feels better than winning, though orgasms gave them a run for the money... and she started to associate them with a kind of winning too, and they were a sharp temporary rush of victory, whereas the satisfaction of being the best at the games in the Twisted Dream House was less intense but more long lasting.

Winning was great when it helped her family, but it was even better when she won compared to her family. She was the one who found the first hidden dreams... not just some of the hidden perks like the secret milkshake dispenser (and soon after, the one that provided warm apple cider), but she stumbled upon several of the Twisted Dream Tokens that she could take into the confessional and request something special.

The first of those she found after correctly guessing the clue "where you go if you want to get wet" might not mean the pool or the bathroom like everyone else was guessing, but something a little outside of the box. That was when she thought about the two exercise bikes in the kids rooms, the ones with the seats that started vibrating after you pedalled for a while. Those, Tulip thought, would get you wet with sweat if you kept pedalling for too long, and even if you didn't pedal at all and just sat still after the vibrations started, and so she checked under the seat.

That little deduction, and a discovery under the seat, gave her Rocket. That part was her idea, with only a little prompting from Skinner's voice in the confessional, because she couldn't make up her mind what sort of reward to ask for as her Dream. Like her whole family, she was already sick of the gruel they were stuck eating until they won a challenge or enough Dream Bucks, and was just about to waste her Dream Token on fast food every day, but the other major problem in the house, in those early days, was boredom. So, when Skinner mentioned a dog, she jumped on that idea instead. Knowing that they weren't allowed to refuse Dreams made it even better, since this was normally a request Mom said no to, but now she couldn't rain on her parade. "Yes, my dream is to have a dog for the family!" she said, and dropped the token in the slot.

The video screen in the confessional room spun then, cycling through various options for how the dream might be twisted. It was part of the game, she understood instantly, as she read things like, "Opposite Twist" or "Three-For-One Twist" or "Work For It Twist" or a few others, including the extra mysterious "Hidden Twist." That last was what it landed on, and she asked what it meant and was told, "That means you get your dream, but there's a twist that will be revealed later. It could be something you have to do to keep your dream, or that what you asked for might unlock other games. You'll find out later." She never was that great about thinking ahead before the house, still wasn't after it, and so it didn't really concern her. She was finally getting a dog!

Soon after that, Rocket entered the Twisted Dream House and their lives, and Tulip forgot about the mysterious hidden twist for a while in the pure joy of a dream long wished for finally fulfilled. She loved that dog at first sight... not a sexual love, that came later, but Poodle (still mostly Tulip in her head, but she tolerated her childhood nickname because she knew Mr. Skinner liked how marketable it was) had a new best friend, and her and Rocket were almost inseparable... later actually inseparable, and by that time some of the purer love had worn off, but not entirely. That little girl had no idea then how big an impact her dream would have on her family but she was so happy to have found that first Twisted Dream Token and proud that she'd helped the family's time in the house be a little more fun. Her mother might have been a sourpuss about it, but she was the one who always stood in the way of her dream of having a dog before, and hopefully she'd come around when she saw how fun having a dog could be.

Tulip also found the second Dream Token, a few days later, and by this time she'd helped her family a lot in other ways, earning out plenty of Dream Bucks (though her sister helped with the secret to that one). That let them buy some clothes off the catalog that one of the video walls turned into (although she was getting used to running around in a beginning bra and underwear, so she was a bit stingy and only bought outfits she thought she or her family looked super cute in) and get off the gruel diet for a few meals at a time, although the prices for that increased every time she used it (of course she could enjoy milkshakes whenever she wanted them). It was pretty funny to her that she was the biggest earner in the family for the first few days. She also considered herself responsible for winning at least one of the competitions when they were supposed to build a house of cards but a series of robotic hands on a little windmill kept trying to knock it down. The rules said they weren't allowed to touch it, but she was the one who figured out that there had to be some way to stop it and, if she straddled the track it ran on, the wheel-of-hands would just keep hitting her butt while the wheels tried and failed to run between her legs... and that was allowed. Could have hit her face, of course, but with the butt it hurt less, no worse than a spanking, which she could endure while her family completed the structure building. That little insight gave them a fifty dollar check to add to their Reality Check stack. So Tulip thought, with her second Token, she deserved a reward that wasn't also a prize for everybody, like Rocket was, but instead completely and totally for her.

Of course, even a Dream Token wasn't unlimited power. Skinner shot down a number of her ideas. Her favorite celebrity visiting was too hard to arrange, he said. Big money requests would defeat the whole purpose of the game show, but she could trade in a Dream Token for another hundred dollar check for the family. That seemed like a waste when they were clearly going to win the whole shebang. Getting a horse seemed like a possibility that Skinner was open to, but he said it would take a while to set up, and Tulip wanted a reward faster than that, so she began taking his suggestions again. Custom wardrobe was appealing, but a little boring. The Fame Dream sounded fun, since it would let her act out a scene from a movie that would be released on her social medias, but again she would have to wait to actually see the results of it. Finally he hit on one of the desires she mentioned in her pre-interview, to get a belly-button piercing.

"Mom would hate that," she pointed out, but with a smile on her face, a smile which grew with Skinner's response.

"It's your dream, though. She's not allowed to refuse it if she wants to stay in the house." Tulip was worried it might cause just that, Mom was already talking about leaving, something about the butt-slapping game really bothered her. Or maybe it was the big game of family Twister which was also fun even if it left her face in Shirley's crotch for a while because of the way the video board rolled. One more thing, like her belly ring, might push Mom over the edge. But then Skinner added, "We could also keep it secret for a while. She doesn't have to know about what you'll do for your dreams." So far all of Tulip's swimsuits were one pieces, and even when she was stuck in underwear she had plenty of tops that were just an undershirt, and so this prospect not only seemed possible but appealed to her, like getting away with something. Turns out, she got away with a lot more than she ever expected, because when she put her token into the slot, the Twist Wheel turned up "Three-For-One" which Skinner explained meant that she would get her piercing, but it would also get two other piercings that they would choose.

That was a little more than she bargained for, but they talked her into it, reminding her again that turning down a dream meant leaving the house, which she definitely didn't want to do, and besides, they'd honor the spirit of her request and give her piercings that Mom would never see. Even if she saw the one on her belly button, eventually, it would be much easier to hide a simple bar piercing on each of her nipples... at least until she ran out of tops entirely.

Tulip never really stopped to consider that this might be an inappropriate request for a TV show. Instead, all she could think about was that none of her friends had nipple piercings, at least as far as she knew, and they would be so jealous. And, of course, her worries that it would hurt.

Luckily, Skinner had a plan for that too, told her his team were experts and knew the best way to make it not hurt, that it involved using the exercise bikes she and her sister used to generate Dream Bucks, that the next day she should use it until she didn't think she could use it anymore, and then they would call her in to the Confessional and walk her through the rest.

That walkthrough involved Tulip pinning her pulled-up top beneath her chin while Jackson Dong held an ice cube against her bare nipple and she sat on Skinner's lap for comfort, comfort applied by his fingers applied directly to her most private area underneath her underwear, which, after sitting on a vibrating bicycle seat for so long they were screaming out for. This had to be an exception to the 'no one should touch you there' rules her mother laid down long ago, because this was just to help get through some pain.

And indeed, she was already screaming before the piercing and the sharp poke barely registered through the rush of definitely-not-pain that the rubbing fingers eventually provoked. Before Tulip knew it, there was a piercing in one of her nipples and Mr. Skinner lightly stroking the edge of her still trembling slit, and Jackson Dong standing in front of her. "There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She looked down at her pierced nipple, and the hand in her panties, and, exhaling sharply, shook her head no, as Skinner explained, "An orgasm is always the best way to ride through pain." It did hurt, but it didn't seem to matter as much right now.

"What do you think though," Jackson said, holding a plastic hand mirror, tiled it towards her. He said, "Looks good, don't you think? Give us a little poodle bark if you like it."

Tulip looked in the mirror, saw the piercing as it would look to somebody looking at it, and she realized then that it looked fantastic on her. It was so stylish that she thought she should have had one all along... and it didn't even really hurt anymore, the sting fading completely at that revelation. "Wow, I look so good," she said. Not just the nipple piercing, either, sitting on a guy's lap in her socks, and wet panties struck her as a really good look for her. "Arf! Arf!"

Skinner grinned, pulled his hand away and slapped her gently on the side of her butt, a signal to get off. "Tomorrow we'll do the other one the same way. Now get dressed." It was a good thing the skirt she'd brought in wasn't on the ground long enough to disappear. The man was totally right about her being more comfortable without it, too. "And remember, it might look good but your family would still probably be pissed to see it."

Too bad, but Tulip was now super looking forward to getting that second one... she'd been hesitant about it before, but was already thinking that the nipple piercings Twist might be better than the actual Dream she'd asked for. Jackson gave her some tips for caring for her new piercing, and Skinner reminded her about how she should use the bike tomorrow until she's almost ready to have an orgasm and then raise her hand and they'd call for her.

It went almost the same way, the second time, except she was a lot more eager to ditch her clothes, knowing she'd get them back, and when Skinner suggested she take the underwear off too, it seemed like a pretty good idea to her. This time when Mr. Skinner rubbed her pussy with steady circular motion Jackson held her free nipple in a little clamp, and pulled, but it was a good feeling, and the second time the orgasm was punctuated by two pains, one of the needle through her nipple, and the other of Mr. Skinner's fingers digging deep into her hole, pushing her up against the hard lump beneath his pants between her butt-cheeks. "Sorry, Poodle," he'd said. "Got a little carried away there." His fingers withdrew, a little bloody, leaving an open hole, and there Jackson was with the mirror again, showing off both the new piercing and her suddenly widened hole.

Upon seeing them, she was pretty happy with both of those changes, if she were honest, and there was no reason not to be. So she gave another bark of approval, smiling at herself in the mirror. Both of her nipples pierced together looked even better than just one, and though she'd always liked the tight little smile her pussy made, it looked much more adult and sophisticated when it was widened, and she wondered if maybe she could get that pierced too.

But her next piercing was already spoken for, the long-awaited belly-button piercing, the one she'd wanted first, although now somehow it seemed like it was going to be a disappointment by comparison... cool, sure, and worth doing no matter what, especially if she got another orgasm to ride through the pain, but not a big dramatic change to her look. At least she could show that one off in public.

Well, she could show all three off if she really wanted to, she knew, they'd told her that much and she believed it, let them take pictures on their phones of her naked, pierced chest, arguing that it would make a good teaser picture for her to post on Instagram when the show aired, that legally it was okay because she wasn't yet a teenager and her bare chest wasn't obscene, even with piercings. Made sense to her, she never felt her nipples were obscene, just knew her parents would be angry at her showing them to people. She covered them up when she left the confessional, but she'd rather have walked around topless. After all, her dad did all the time, and he had nipples, so what was the difference? Girls should absolutely be able to go around topless, she believed, especially her. She even thought that, maybe, after her belly-button ring set in, she might, since many of her clothes options wouldn't be able to hide that piercing... so why not show off all three at once to her family? If she got in trouble, one punishment was better than two separate ones.

The belly-button piercing wound up being a lot more extreme than she expected... the event, that is, not the piercing itself. Tulip was ready to ride the bikes, get herself close to that line where they wanted her, but she was only on for a minute when they called her to the Confessional, asked her to bring Rocket along, as sometimes she did, because it made for a good interview to have him as a prop she could hug or pet. Inside, Jackson and Skinner were waiting, Jackson cleaning off the little piercing tool, and she knew the ritual, stripped down her shirt and skirt and underwear, and waited for Skinner to sit down first so she could get on his lap.

Skinner looked apologetic, patted the seat. "Sorry, we had to move the schedule up, we've got a competition later today and we don't have time for the bike to warm you up, so we're going to use an old Hollywood trick."

The trick was letting her sit in the chair while Rocket licked at her pussy, which seemed very weird at first and then very soon not at all, as Poodle was educated on the Hollywood lifestyle, where dogs were often used to provide orgasms because they were easily available, easily trainable, and offered no risk of pregnancy, and, most importantly, cheap. "Technically," Skinner said as her new dog demonstrated a spectacular talent at lapping at her pussy, "Every time I give you an orgasm I have to take money out of the production budget to pay myself a salary as a performer and fill out insurance paperwork, since you're a minor, but if your dog does it, well, that's a different matter... so we'll be using Rocket from now on."

Tulip enjoyed the feel of Skinner's fingers, but Rocket was turning out to be a very good substitute. And it wasn't like she was missing the fingers entirely, they went inside a few times to help her get wet enough that Rocket smelled something he wanted to lick, and after, helped, prodded, pulled at her nipple piercings to add an intensity the tongue alone lacked, and finally helped hold her still when the orgasm was approaching and Jackson needed to duck in quick to finish the piercing. All made perfect sense to Tulip, nothing unusual at all, even when they wanted to continue this habit the next day, and the next, no piercings to be inserted on these times, but daily cleaning and maintenance of her existing ones, which were all good excuses for another orgasm from Rocket.

When they asked her to suck Jackson's cock during one of the cleanings, that didn't raise any suspicion for her either, because they explained it so well. See, apparently her big sister had found a Dream Token, and got a bad spin for the Twist. A Double Twist, in fact, two more spins of the wheel which turned into Opposite Twist, and a Stolen Twist. That last was the worst, although sometimes the Opposite Twist could get pretty bad too, the Stolen Twist meant that somebody else in the house got to steal your Dream. And, turned out her dream was for Jackson to lick her pussy, which, they explained, meant that somebody else got to steal the opposite, to suck on his cock. And, as everyone knew, if you didn't accept a Dream, you were out of the house, so, she spent one unexpected confessional sucking cock, which she had some experience with already, although this one didn't dispense milkshakes.

One thing led to another, challenges got progressively more nasty, but to a twelve-year-old, still seemed like they were just really daring challenges in a reality show that was meant to test her boundaries. If one challenge was Skinner sticking his dick all the way inside her ass, well, it might hurt, but it wasn't actual sex, and as long as Rocket was licking her pussy at the same time, it was the kind of hurt with a reward at the end, the kind of hurt she'd grown to crave. And made her feel a bit like a dog, on all fours, and a dick in the ass felt a little like a tail she could wag, all very doglike... although that impression might have started because Skinner wanted to bark while he pushed inside her. Often, challenges built on older challenges, and before long it was Rocket she was taking in her ass, then her mouth and finally her pussy, her first time, theoretically, but she guessed it didn't really count because it was a dog, not a person, and part of a challenge . It was the 'work for it' challenge that won her the Poodle Skirt that Skinner had regularly talked up.

All Tulip knew was she was really, really good at challenges, even won one against her sister involving making the other one have an orgasm first, but then her sister really wasn't trying as hard as she was.

When she allowed Mr. Skinner to be the first human lover to stick his bare cock head up her pussy, that was when she started to think, "Hey, this may not be an actual reality show, they might just be using this to get us to do all sorts of dirty stuff." They'd already done a bunch of dirty stuff, of course, but there was a subtle difference between dirty challenges and just doing dirty stuff. Pleasing a bunch of cocks had become a regular, fun, challenge in the house... they all had their own personalities, and different sizes and sometimes the challenge was just fitting them into her butthole, riding through the sometimes painful stretching feeling until the motion started to get her into orgasm territory. And those days they played slave for that other family, well, the challenge of being a good slave was naturally going to include some dirty stuff, but why would they make her drink pee if it wasn't to try and make her give up and leave the house? Tulip Dowdy was not a quitter, she was a competitor. Even when they asked her to sneak into her Daddy's bed and suck on his cock for a real money reward... that one seemed a little out there, even for a challenge. Her letting him fuck her ass later was also framed as a challenge, of course, but it turned out Daddy cum wasn't any different than anyone else's, and his dick was a little easier to take than most.
Losing her pussy virginity, with Mr. Skinner, though? That seemed like a pretty big step to a little girl who still considered herself a virgin despite having had a lot of experience with cocks, multiple men and multiple species. They other men had said it didn't count until it was done without a condom, because it needed a pregnancy risk to count, and she believed that, but watching Skinner's twitching dick pull out of her pussy and spew glistening white cum all over her mound, that definitely seemed like a pregnancy risk, and that, combined with him spending the whole ride talking about this little neighbor girl he wished he had a chance to fuck like this when he was a teenager made her question the reality show for the first time, question about whether he was just a pervert who liked fucking little girls and used the show as an excuse.

At the same time, she was having too much fun, she'd had her own orgasm from riding on the raw cock of a pervert who liked playing with a little girl's nipple rings while he fucked her, and so not much reason to complain or probe too deeply... if things weren't quite right, that was for her parents to worry about. And Mom and Shirley had watched the whole thing and didn't say a word against it except to warn him to pull out when it was time to cum because this was no impregnation challenge.

When they followed that up with her wedding to Rocket, and she was given the tattoo that followed, not to mention the new condition of being chained to the dog for the last few weeks of the show, Poodle went one step beyond suspicion and thought for the first time, "Hey, I think our family might be really fucked up after this." That certainly was a big escalation of the kind of fun they'd been having up till then, felt real permanent. After all, Poodle had just married a dog, as far as she knew, legally (and she was trying really hard not to answer to Tulip anymore, since the wedding decreed Poodle as her official name). And the tattoo sure felt permanent, still stung, especially when getting fucked hard.

To be more specific, it was the night right after the wedding that she got this little reality check, and was provided by her sister, also her maid of honor, while they lounged around in bed before finally drifting off to bed, Poodle still trying to figure out how she was going to sleep without getting tangled up in the chain that connected her to Rocket, and despite how worn out her body was, her heart was still pumping too much from what they'd done. So to calm herself down, she talked to her sister, who was silly and tipsy and trying to sleep herself but had to listen to her little sister brag about how her friends were going to be so jealous of her wedding when they saw the show. Finally Shirley snapped at her, told her that the people in her class weren't going to see that, nobody they knew was ever going to see any of the stuff they were doing... "It's not like blowjobs where it's okay for a movie with all the right permits," she said, then going on to point out that bestiality and sex with a girl her age was extremely illegal for anybody to do, much less film. "And good thing nobody we know will ever see it, too, I don't think we could show our faces in town again. Now go to sleep."

Turned out she, Shirley, was wrong... not about it being illegal, but about the people they know never seeing any of the footage... however it did make Poodle's sleepless night even more sleepless as she wondered about how their family might be changed if they'd done all this stuff and didn't even get famous out of it. But she moved swiftly to the "Oh well, might as well enjoy it," phase without even much angst in between. She remembered looking at herself in the piercing guy's mirror during the wedding ceremony, while her bars were replaced with rings that were physically closed and liked to a chain that connected her to her new canine husband. Her reflection was naked and glowing with pleasure and looked happy... and all that just felt right to her. If Skinner wanted to use his new authority granted by the tattoo to knock her up, and he hadn't already succeeded at his first try, she'd probably enjoy that too. After all, Mom and Shirley were trying to get pregnant. Shirley said she was pretty sure she was, and that Jackson the piercing guy was the daddy because Daddy and everyone else only fucked her ass or mouth without a condom.

Shirley, for her part, also took quite a while to catch on to the full implications of what was going on in the house, despite being old enough to know better. But then she was a teenager. Teenagers often think the world revolves around them, and that they're so much more perceptive than anyone around them, and that they're getting away with more than they think they are. She missed the forest for the trees, because she really liked the piece of wood she was focusing on, until her reality check came upon her--along with a few others.
You could say that Shirley knew something extremely inappropriate and probably even illegal was going on very early, she just thought it was focused on her and that she was in control. In short, Shirley thought that she was being seduced, or seducing (her conviction on which was happening went back and forth) a handsome older man, and that everything else going on in the house was just normal showbiz, maybe trading a little on her teen sexuality... but that was a part of normal showbiz.
Shirley's affection for Jackson Dong had started the first day they met, got kicked into high gear the day of their interview when he professionally had his hands on her breasts and pussy, and was what she thought her own dirty little secret once they entered the Twisted Dream House. In fact she thought she was getting one over on the producers, her family, and the whole audience, inching towards a very taboo relationship right under their noses. So exciting it made her clueless.
Oh, she knew that she was the intended sex appeal portion of the show, ever since Skinner had explained it, was comfortable, in theory, with that role and trying to become more comfortable in practice, but there was a big difference, in her mind, between showing off a little skin and teasing for an audience and actually carrying on an affair with her makeup guy... something she thought was going on in private.
At first it was a crush, flirtation, enabled by daily makeup sessions in the confessional. He called her cute, she blushed, he told her she had nothing to be ashamed of about her body, and she wanted to bare it all for him right then and there, but didn't, expecting the sessions were video recorded like everything else, at least until one day early on when he said they weren't. "No worries," he told her, after she panicked about getting him in trouble on camera, when she referred to him shaving her bush before they went into the house. Shirley was smart enough to have a sense that wasn't the kind of thing spoken about--the kind of thing guys his age maybe went to jail for--so she apologized profusely and stressed, again, looking into the camera, that it was totally professional. But he wasn't concerned, "Nobody's watching. It's part of my contract. Whenever I'm doing makeup in here, that camera is off." She later came to wonder if he was deceptively honest and only referring to one particular camera, but that was after some of the shine had come off the relationship. "So I can say anything to you, and you can say anything to me."
She thought about making a play there, telling him about her crush, asking if he wanted to make the house less boring for her, and he must have mistaken her working up her courage for disbelief, for he said, "I'll prove it. I'll tell you a secret. You know those exercise bikes?" She nodded. "You actually only have to pedal to get them started. Legally the show can't make you do intensive work like that, child labor laws and all that. So once you start pedalling, you keep earning Dream Bucks until you get off the seat or you show signs of distress. The vibrating is there to keep you from just using it endlessly."
Shirley had already noticed the vibrating seat, of course, it was hard not to when it dug right into a place that liked being vibrated, but it did get uncomfortable doing it for too long... less because it was unpleasant as because she worried about embarrassing herself with a wet spot. "Go ahead and 'discover' it. Just don't say I told you." And he winked, which made her smile, and then he went back to her makeup. "As for the shaving, that WAS totally professional. Remember, you're the show's eye-candy, and believe me, you're adorable, but if we don't want to get cancelled we still need you in the skimpiest swimsuits you can manage. If you need another shave to get you to get a little more daring, just ask. It'd be a pleasure."
She didn't ask, that day, but thought about it, thought about it more while riding the exercise bike for Dream Bucks, after making a 'discovery' that she did indeed share with her sister. That certainly did make earning money more fun, where instead of pedalling themselves to exhaustion the two sisters could just sit and have a pleasant conversation while the sensations built up and she thought about Jackson more and more. Thought about her swimsuit choices more and more, too.
That was the thing about the house, there wasn't a lot to do aside from play in the pool and swim and talk to her family--at least before they got the dog, which provided a different distraction. They could explore the house, like her sister often did, and Shirley probably should have clued in that something wasn't right she caught her little sister deep-throating one of the phallic projections on what she called the 'Wall of Dicks.' Looked an awful lot like her little sis'd gotten stir crazy enough to practice blow jobs, although it turned out she had just found the secret milkshake dispenser, and she showed Shirley the trick to get it to work... which required you to get your mouth pretty far on the vaguely dick-shaped nozzle. That seemed suspicious... but it tasted better than Dream Gruel and water they were still restricted to. So was the warm apple cider another 'dick' dispensed. Their mother would have insisted this was lewd and inappropriate, but their mother also slapped bananas out of her hand if she tried to eat them in public, so Shirley thought she was being a little paranoid... and assumed they were put there for the same reason the pool was, to give viewers a little thrill about something that, really, was not dirty at all. So what if they wanted to watch her parade around in a swimsuit, or suck on a nozzle to get a milkshake? It wasn't like it was sex, and it wasn't like they wanted to watch Tulip--Shirley, she was the star here--so she let it slide and just warned her little sister that she shouldn't use it when Mom could see or they might never be allowed to again. Tulip gave her sister a thumb's up while trying one of the other dispensers, then pulled off to explain, "I've only found two so far, but that doesn't mean the others don't do something too, if you learn the trick."
That was her little sister's chosen distraction, searching the house and finding any secrets it held. Shirley did her share of that too, but for her, killing time was more about the pool. The whole family used the pool now and then, but Shirley made more of a habit of it, aware of her supposed role in the whole show and trying to grow more comfortable with it. Her swimsuits started as simple one pieces, or two-pieces that were tankinis or close to it, barely showing belly and not much cleavage either. Since everything other than underwear and swimwear they had to buy from the on-screen menu--and would only last for one wearing--it seemed like the smart play to keep the suit on. She wanted to save those valuable Dream Bucks to get real food or decent music playing in the downtime, all of which were more important to her than clothes... or at least that was the excuse she gave to stay in a swimsuit almost the whole day. Her parents didn't really mind, considering how conservative the swimsuits were, but this was just for starters... she wanted to push herself, gradually, into sexier and sexier material. And push her mom, too, who would have thrown a fit if she showed up in some of her options the first day, even though, hypocrite that she was, she had started out in a bikini. But Mom might not notice if Shirley gradually showed more and more skin.
"Gradual is good," Jackson said when she told him her plan, half-proudly, half- by way of apology for not already being sexier. "Just not too gradually. All eyes are on you, and we don't want them getting bored." She thought about those eyes a lot, lazing in an inflated inner tube in the pool, looking up at the cameras. Seemed like their eyes would be on her mom more, might stay that way if she was too gradual, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted them on her. Not just for the good of the show and the promise she made to Mr. Skinner, but just because the idea excited her.
What really excited her was Jackson, though. Being under his makeup brush was like a combination of flirting and being at a spa. She wanted to look sexy for herself, but also for him, and decided the next day to try out a new 'swimsuit choice for the day' on him before wearing it out at the pool. This one was still one piece, but had gaps at the side and showed more cleavage, which Jackson liked though he said, "A two-piece that showed your whole stomach would be better. This one needs something to pop."
She asked what it was, and he asked if she trusted her, and she bit her lip and nodded, and then bit her lip harder when he pulled the swimsuit edges around one breast, baring it nude, and then lay his lips on her nipple, gently suckling it, licking, until it was a firm bead. Then he went to the other one, kissed it, fondled the breast as he did, while she just stood there, breathless, trembling, as it looked like her romantic dreams were at least starting to be more than dreams. Especially when he admitted, "I've been wanting to do that since I first met you." A rare break in his professionalism, but then he pulled the suit back in place and showed her in his little hand mirror. Now the stretchy fabric didn't cover so much as clearly outline excited proud nipples that would excite an audience while still being legal for television.
"But what happens when they go down again?" she asked.
He grinned, shrugged, "I'll be happy to do it again any time you see me, but we've only got a short time together each day, so the rest of the time... find a way to excite yourself. But think of me while you're doing it, if it helps. I'll sure be thinking of you." And then it was back to professionalism, but she knew there was something more, something secret, and she clung to that belief that Jackson might be in love with her like she was starting to feel like she might be with him.
Shirley's affair, as she saw it, with Jackson was an exciting, dirty little secret, even while it had barely gotten past the kissing stage, and some touching of parts of her body that she knew her parents would not be okay with, but most of those touches were only done to enhance her sex appeal. Shaves of her pussy became a daily affair with massage, as did nipple stimulation... the latter didn't last long but any time there was a reminder of Jackson she felt like her nipples were auto-stiffening. Even, sometimes when her father gave her suntan oil applications. Those were required if they were going to open the windows that let actual UV rays into the backyard enough to make a good tan, or a healthy amount of Vitamin D, but that also made for a risk of potential sun burn the producers didn't want to be liable for, so extensive application was required. The more skin she showed the more her father would have to rub, and that was a stumbling block to Shirley's gradual plan, until she decided to just try to imagine it was Jackson doing the rubbing.
Her time with Jackson was intoxicating, in part because he really did make her feel better about her body. After he played with her nipples and showed her what it looked like in his hand mirror, she was totally comfortable with her nipples peeking through her tops. She no longer felt ashamed of a shaved pussy, it seemed only natural. And every swimsuit she wore, she started to think looked great on her, even that one-piece that she thought was safe but turned almost translucent when it got wet. She spent a few hours in the pool in that one--knowing what people at home were seeing but pretending she didn't--before her Mom caught her and made her change.
Shirley attributed this new brazen attitude to the magic of true love, although she'd yet to voice this to Jackson, wasn't even sure whatever they had counted as a relationship enough to use the 'L-word' openly yet, but knew it had to at least count as an affair. Of two types, because Jackson was almost certainly not allowed to be with a teenager like her, but also because she technically hadn't broken things off with Paul, even though she'd given him permission not to wait for her. He said he would anyway, and that left her with a little extra naughty thrill every time she did something with Jackson, who excited her in ways Paul never had. But the best part of the thrill was that it was a total secret. The one hour a day Jackson was allowed to do her makeup--and, she thought, neither of them would be filmed and they could do anything--were a big, dangerous secret in a very public reality show competition, something that struck her as extra hot.
The only time she worried that somebody knew about her affair was one time when her little sister Tulip, out of nowhere, gave her a hug and said, "I'm sorry you couldn't get your dream of having Jackson lick your pussy," but knew it had to be coincidence, rather than special knowledge, since Shirley hadn't told that fantasy to anyone, not even Jackson.
Did, though, the next morning during her shave and makeup session, just as a "isn't it funny what ideas kids have," and to see if he was worried about being found out. His tongue up her pussy showed how not worried he was by that, and how much better that felt in reality than her imagination. And though she'd called what she had in the days before an affair, she'd still been aware of the possibility that all of it was in her head. This was the first thing she considered absolutely sexual, since she knew, her own feelings aside, the shaving and nipple stuff could be dismissed as business, and the flirting just flirting, but making her cum on his tongue was definitely a sign he liked her as more than just somebody he had to make hot for the cameras.
After that orgasm she changed into her first bikini at the house, skimpier than any swimsuit she'd worn at the beach, either, but felt totally comfortable in it once she saw herself in Jackson's hand mirror.
"Why do you always use that mirror?" she'd finally decided to ask him. "It looks like you got it in a dollar store." The handle was plastic and the colors bright enough to be a little girl's toy mirror for playing dress-up.
"I did, actually. But it has sentimental value. And it's magic, everyone who looks into it feels better about how they look." As if to prove it, he showed off the handle. In golden lettering, words on the handle read, "New U Mirror!" and then in smaller text, "Embrace A New Look! More natural reflection the closer to pleasure!" Clearly something made in another country for super cheap, and Shirley didn't believe in actual fairy-tale type magic but she did really like how she looked in it, so maybe there was something in the lighting or glass.
In fact, all doubts about wearing the swimsuit vanished once she saw how it looked on her, in that mirror. It just seemed so natural. She could totally pull off that look, would enjoy showing off in it. And she did show off, out by the pool, all day, feeling no shame whatsoever, even when her mother glared at her for the choice. Mom looked like she'd just swallowed something unpleasant, but never told her to take it off like she did with the one that became see-thru. But then, maybe she'd realized that if Shirley did take it off, the next outfit would be even worse. Not because Shirley was rebelling, but just because of the No Laundry rule, that her mother probably thought she running out of one-pieces, and the ones that were left might be even more transparent.
Shirley still had a few of the suits she thought as safe for 'the old Shirley,' in reserve just in case she backslid, but right now she was really liking how she looked in a two piece... and the next outfit the bottom was a lot closer to a thong. She wasn't sure about it yet but after Jackson ate her out, the swimsuit looked fantastic on her, something she could easily add to her repertoire and shock Mom with.
Her dad was cooler about the daily shrinking swimsuits, which surprised her, since, like Mom, he usually vetoed if he caught her trying to leave their old house in anything considered too sexy... not that that had happened too often, but there were school dances and the like where his old fashioned values contradicted the current styles. And at the beach, Dad was in favor of more coverage... but here, he didn't seem to care much, and it wasn't like he didn't notice since he usually had the job of rubbing suntan lotion on her body, on all exposed areas, which had to be done before they opened the windows that let unfiltered sunlight in. Shirley assumed it was because the Dream House had started to feel like home, rather than out in public, and at home Dad never really raised a fuss if she walked around in just a bra and shorts unless company was expected.
When Daddy was rubbing lotion into her skin, especially on her now practically-bare ass-cheeks, she just closed her eyes and imagined it was Jackson doing it, so it wasn't weird. Sometimes she'd go straight from the pool to ride the bike for a while and earn some money while enjoying some good vibrations. For a while, she thought she was pulling one over on everybody, being sexy and sneaking an orgasm while nobody watching had any idea, but of course she wasn't nearly as subtle as she thought, she just assumed they would have said something.
Just as Shirley assumed that her slow seduction of Jackson was her own initiative, and that she was doing a really good job at making him fall in love with her... even though they hadn't kissed on the lips, also hadn't felt his penis as more than pressing against her through her clothes. She rightly suspected that all she'd need to do for the second one is ask, and wrongly suspected that that might be too big a risk with so little time, and whether her suspicion that the kiss should really come before any handling of his cock was right or wrong depends on your own perception.

Shirley, for her part, also took quite a while to catch on to the full implications of what was going on in the house, despite being old enough to know better. But then she was a teenager. Teenagers often think the world revolves around them, and that they're so much more perceptive than anyone around them, and that they're getting away with more than they think they are. She missed the forest for the trees, because she really liked the piece of wood she was focusing on, until her reality check came upon her--along with a few others.

You could say that Shirley knew something extremely inappropriate and probably even illegal was going on very early, she just thought it was focused on her and that she was in control. In short, Shirley thought that she was being seduced, or seducing (her conviction on which was happening went back and forth) a handsome older man, and that everything else going on in the house was just normal showbiz, maybe trading a little on her teen sexuality... but that was a part of normal showbiz.

Shirley's affection for Jackson Dong had started the first day they met, got kicked into high gear the day of their interview when he professionally had his hands on her breasts and pussy, and was what she thought her own dirty little secret once they entered the Twisted Dream House. In fact she thought she was getting one over on the producers, her family, and the whole audience, inching towards a very taboo relationship right under their noses. So exciting it made her clueless.

Oh, she knew that she was the intended sex appeal portion of the show, ever since Skinner had explained it, was comfortable, in theory, with that role and trying to become more comfortable in practice, but there was a big difference, in her mind, between showing off a little skin and teasing for an audience and actually carrying on an affair with her makeup guy... something she thought was going on in private.

At first it was a crush, flirtation, enabled by daily makeup sessions in the confessional. He called her cute, she blushed, he told her she had nothing to be ashamed of about her body, and she wanted to bare it all for him right then and there, but didn't, expecting the sessions were video recorded like everything else, at least until one day early on when he said they weren't. "No worries," he told her, after she panicked about getting him in trouble on camera, when she referred to him shaving her bush before they went into the house. Shirley was smart enough to have a sense that wasn't the kind of thing spoken about--the kind of thing guys his age maybe went to jail for--so she apologized profusely and stressed, again, looking into the camera, that it was totally professional. But he wasn't concerned, "Nobody's watching. It's part of my contract. Whenever I'm doing makeup in here, that camera is off." She later came to wonder if he was deceptively honest and only referring to one particular camera, but that was after some of the shine had come off the relationship. "So I can say anything to you, and you can say anything to me."

She thought about making a play there, telling him about her crush, asking if he wanted to make the house less boring for her, and he must have mistaken her working up her courage for disbelief, for he said, "I'll prove it. I'll tell you a secret. You know those exercise bikes?" She nodded. "You actually only have to pedal to get them started. Legally the show can't make you do intensive work like that, child labor laws and all that. So once you start pedalling, you keep earning Dream Bucks until you get off the seat or you show signs of distress. The vibrating is there to keep you from just using it endlessly."

Shirley had already noticed the vibrating seat, of course, it was hard not to when it dug right into a place that liked being vibrated, but it did get uncomfortable doing it for too long... less because it was unpleasant as because she worried about embarrassing herself with a wet spot. "Go ahead and 'discover' it. Just don't say I told you." And he winked, which made her smile, and then he went back to her makeup. "As for the shaving, that WAS totally professional. Remember, you're the show's eye-candy, and believe me, you're adorable, but if we don't want to get cancelled we still need you in the skimpiest swimsuits you can manage. If you need another shave to get you to get a little more daring, just ask. It'd be a pleasure."

She didn't ask, that day, but thought about it, thought about it more while riding the exercise bike for Dream Bucks, after making a 'discovery' that she did indeed share with her sister. That certainly did make earning money more fun, where instead of pedalling themselves to exhaustion the two sisters could just sit and have a pleasant conversation while the sensations built up and she thought about Jackson more and more. Thought about her swimsuit choices more and more, too.

That was the thing about the house, there wasn't a lot to do aside from play in the pool and swim and talk to her family--at least before they got the dog, which provided a different distraction. They could explore the house, like her sister often did, and Shirley probably should have clued in that something wasn't right she caught her little sister deep-throating one of the phallic projections on what she called the 'Wall of Dicks.' Looked an awful lot like her little sis'd gotten stir crazy enough to practice blow jobs, although it turned out she had just found the secret milkshake dispenser, and she showed Shirley the trick to get it to work... which required you to get your mouth pretty far on the vaguely dick-shaped nozzle. That seemed suspicious... but it tasted better than Dream Gruel and water they were still restricted to. So was the warm apple cider another 'dick' dispensed. Their mother would have insisted this was lewd and inappropriate, but their mother also slapped bananas out of her hand if she tried to eat them in public, so Shirley thought she was being a little paranoid... and assumed they were put there for the same reason the pool was, to give viewers a little thrill about something that, really, was not dirty at all. So what if they wanted to watch her parade around in a swimsuit, or suck on a nozzle to get a milkshake? It wasn't like it was sex, and it wasn't like they wanted to watch Tulip--Shirley, she was the star here--so she let it slide and just warned her little sister that she shouldn't use it when Mom could see or they might never be allowed to again. Tulip gave her sister a thumb's up while trying one of the other dispensers, then pulled off to explain, "I've only found two so far, but that doesn't mean the others don't do something too, if you learn the trick."

That was her little sister's chosen distraction, searching the house and finding any secrets it held. Shirley did her share of that too, but for her, killing time was more about the pool. The whole family used the pool now and then, but Shirley made more of a habit of it, aware of her supposed role in the whole show and trying to grow more comfortable with it. Her swimsuits started as simple one pieces, or two-pieces that were tankinis or close to it, barely showing belly and not much cleavage either. Since everything other than underwear and swimwear they had to buy from the on-screen menu--and would only last for one wearing--it seemed like the smart play to keep the suit on. She wanted to save those valuable Dream Bucks to get real food or decent music playing in the downtime, all of which were more important to her than clothes... or at least that was the excuse she gave to stay in a swimsuit almost the whole day. Her parents didn't really mind, considering how conservative the swimsuits were, but this was just for starters... she wanted to push herself, gradually, into sexier and sexier material. And push her mom, too, who would have thrown a fit if she showed up in some of her options the first day, even though, hypocrite that she was, she had started out in a bikini. But Mom might not notice if Shirley gradually showed more and more skin.

"Gradual is good," Jackson said when she told him her plan, half-proudly, half- by way of apology for not already being sexier. "Just not too gradually. All eyes are on you, and we don't want them getting bored." She thought about those eyes a lot, lazing in an inflated inner tube in the pool, looking up at the cameras. Seemed like their eyes would be on her mom more, might stay that way if she was too gradual, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted them on her. Not just for the good of the show and the promise she made to Mr. Skinner, but just because the idea excited her.

What really excited her was Jackson, though. Being under his makeup brush was like a combination of flirting and being at a spa. She wanted to look sexy for herself, but also for him, and decided the next day to try out a new 'swimsuit choice for the day' on him before wearing it out at the pool. This one was still one piece, but had gaps at the side and showed more cleavage, which Jackson liked though he said, "A two-piece that showed your whole stomach would be better. This one needs something to pop."

She asked what it was, and he asked if she trusted her, and she bit her lip and nodded, and then bit her lip harder when he pulled the swimsuit edges around one breast, baring it nude, and then lay his lips on her nipple, gently suckling it, licking, until it was a firm bead. Then he went to the other one, kissed it, fondled the breast as he did, while she just stood there, breathless, trembling, as it looked like her romantic dreams were at least starting to be more than dreams. Especially when he admitted, "I've been wanting to do that since I first met you." A rare break in his professionalism, but then he pulled the suit back in place and showed her in his little hand mirror. Now the stretchy fabric didn't cover so much as clearly outline excited proud nipples that would excite an audience while still being legal for television.

"But what happens when they go down again?" she asked.

He grinned, shrugged, "I'll be happy to do it again any time you see me, but we've only got a short time together each day, so the rest of the time... find a way to excite yourself. But think of me while you're doing it, if it helps. I'll sure be thinking of you." And then it was back to professionalism, but she knew there was something more, something secret, and she clung to that belief that Jackson might be in love with her like she was starting to feel like she might be with him.

Shirley's affair, as she saw it, with Jackson was an exciting, dirty little secret, even while it had barely gotten past the kissing stage, and some touching of parts of her body that she knew her parents would not be okay with, but most of those touches were only done to enhance her sex appeal. Shaves of her pussy became a daily affair with massage, as did nipple stimulation... the latter didn't last long but any time there was a reminder of Jackson she felt like her nipples were auto-stiffening. Even, sometimes when her father gave her suntan oil applications. Those were required if they were going to open the windows that let actual UV rays into the backyard enough to make a good tan, or a healthy amount of Vitamin D, but that also made for a risk of potential sun burn the producers didn't want to be liable for, so extensive application was required. The more skin she showed the more her father would have to rub, and that was a stumbling block to Shirley's gradual plan, until she decided to just try to imagine it was Jackson doing the rubbing.

Her time with Jackson was intoxicating, in part because he really did make her feel better about her body. After he played with her nipples and showed her what it looked like in his hand mirror, she was totally comfortable with her nipples peeking through her tops. She no longer felt ashamed of a shaved pussy, it seemed only natural. And every swimsuit she wore, she started to think looked great on her, even that one-piece that she thought was safe but turned almost translucent when it got wet. She spent a few hours in the pool in that one--knowing what people at home were seeing but pretending she didn't--before her Mom caught her and made her change.

Shirley attributed this new brazen attitude to the magic of true love, although she'd yet to voice this to Jackson, wasn't even sure whatever they had counted as a relationship enough to use the 'L-word' openly yet, but knew it had to at least count as an affair. Of two types, because Jackson was almost certainly not allowed to be with a teenager like her, but also because she technically hadn't broken things off with Paul, even though she'd given him permission not to wait for her. He said he would anyway, and that left her with a little extra naughty thrill every time she did something with Jackson, who excited her in ways Paul never had. But the best part of the thrill was that it was a total secret. The one hour a day Jackson was allowed to do her makeup--and, she thought, neither of them would be filmed and they could do anything--were a big, dangerous secret in a very public reality show competition, something that struck her as extra hot.

The only time she worried that somebody knew about her affair was one time when her little sister Tulip, out of nowhere, gave her a hug and said, "I'm sorry you couldn't get your dream of having Jackson lick your pussy," but knew it had to be coincidence, rather than special knowledge, since Shirley hadn't told that fantasy to anyone, not even Jackson.

Did, though, the next morning during her shave and makeup session, just as a "isn't it funny what ideas kids have," and to see if he was worried about being found out. His tongue up her pussy showed how not worried he was by that, and how much better that felt in reality than her imagination. And though she'd called what she had in the days before an affair, she'd still been aware of the possibility that all of it was in her head. This was the first thing she considered absolutely sexual, since she knew, her own feelings aside, the shaving and nipple stuff could be dismissed as business, and the flirting just flirting, but making her cum on his tongue was definitely a sign he liked her as more than just somebody he had to make hot for the cameras.

After that orgasm she changed into her first bikini at the house, skimpier than any swimsuit she'd worn at the beach, either, but felt totally comfortable in it once she saw herself in Jackson's hand mirror.

"Why do you always use that mirror?" she'd finally decided to ask him. "It looks like you got it in a dollar store." The handle was plastic and the colors bright enough to be a little girl's toy mirror for playing dress-up.

"I did, actually. But it has sentimental value. And it's magic, everyone who looks into it feels better about how they look." As if to prove it, he showed off the handle. In golden lettering, words on the handle read, "New U Mirror!" and then in smaller text, "Embrace A New Look! More natural reflection the closer to pleasure!" Clearly something made in another country for super cheap, and Shirley didn't believe in actual fairy-tale type magic but she did really like how she looked in it, so maybe there was something in the lighting or glass.

In fact, all doubts about wearing the swimsuit vanished once she saw how it looked on her, in that mirror. It just seemed so natural. She could totally pull off that look, would enjoy showing off in it. And she did show off, out by the pool, all day, feeling no shame whatsoever, even when her mother glared at her for the choice. Mom looked like she'd just swallowed something unpleasant, but never told her to take it off like she did with the one that became see-thru. But then, maybe she'd realized that if Shirley did take it off, the next outfit would be even worse. Not because Shirley was rebelling, but just because of the No Laundry rule, that her mother probably thought she running out of one-pieces, and the ones that were left might be even more transparent.

Shirley still had a few of the suits she thought as safe for 'the old Shirley,' in reserve just in case she backslid, but right now she was really liking how she looked in a two piece... and the next outfit the bottom was a lot closer to a thong. She wasn't sure about it yet but after Jackson ate her out, the swimsuit looked fantastic on her, something she could easily add to her repertoire and shock Mom with.

Her dad was cooler about the daily shrinking swimsuits, which surprised her, since, like Mom, he usually vetoed if he caught her trying to leave their old house in anything considered too sexy... not that that had happened too often, but there were school dances and the like where his old fashioned values contradicted the current styles. And at the beach, Dad was in favor of more coverage... but here, he didn't seem to care much, and it wasn't like he didn't notice since he usually had the job of rubbing suntan lotion on her body, on all exposed areas, which had to be done before they opened the windows that let unfiltered sunlight in. Shirley assumed it was because the Dream House had started to feel like home, rather than out in public, and at home Dad never really raised a fuss if she walked around in just a bra and shorts unless company was expected.

When Daddy was rubbing lotion into her skin, especially on her now practically-bare ass-cheeks, she just closed her eyes and imagined it was Jackson doing it, so it wasn't weird. Sometimes she'd go straight from the pool to ride the bike for a while and earn some money while enjoying some good vibrations. For a while, she thought she was pulling one over on everybody, being sexy and sneaking an orgasm while nobody watching had any idea, but of course she wasn't nearly as subtle as she thought, she just assumed they would have said something.

Just as Shirley assumed that her slow seduction of Jackson was her own initiative, and that she was doing a really good job at making him fall in love with her... even though they hadn't kissed on the lips, also hadn't felt his penis as more than pressing against her through her clothes. She rightly suspected that all she'd need to do for the second one is ask, and wrongly suspected that that might be too big a risk with so little time, and whether her suspicion that the kiss should really come before any handling of his cock was right or wrong depends on your own perception.

The hour-long time frame was starting to get to her after a few days... once you included the time of actual makeup, shaving, and conversation, outfit consultation, time for what she thought of as the 'naughty stuff' that might advance their relationship was running out, and most of that used to give her an orgasm. Sometimes not even finishing that before telling her he had to leave her.

A week into what she thought of as 'their relationship' (starting with the first sucking on her nipples, which counted as a form of a kiss even if it wasn't officially labelled as such), she whined when it was time to go, and said, "I wish we could have more time together."

That's when he dangled an idea, "You know, you could. If you found one of the Dream Tokens, you could request, as your dream..."

"More time with you?"

"That might look a little weird, wouldn't it?" He grinned. "No, it's called the Fame Dream... you say your dream is to be in an actual movie. I do those on the side, and I could absolutely make some connections... and makeup for a movie is a lot more than a daily reality show."

Wouldn't you know it, Shirley found a Dream Token that very day, following a clue Jackson gave her, and made the request, which was granted, with the 'Secret Twist,' which meant she wasn't allowed to tell her family, just that she would be locked off in a private part of the house for almost a whole day.

There was another Twist, to be sure, which was quite a surprise to Shirley, who got all excited both about her time with Jackson and the chance to be in a real Hollywood movie, and who got a bigger surprise when it turned out the movie Jackson had connections with was of a decidedly pornographic variety.

You'd think that would have given Shirley her reality check, that she was being groomed for more and more erotic entertainment, but she was already in love and Jackson was persuasive. She sat in the chair in the confessional, getting into 'character', which was much more extensive this time around. "Because of the Secret Twist, the goal here is to make it so you're almost unrecognizable," he told her, laying on eyeshadow. "When I'm done with you, you'd probably have to tell people you played this role." That was an exaggeration, although Jackson did cover her freckles in makeup, and that, combined with the blonde wig he gave her did change her look a lot, as did the mini-skirt and tube-top, and the high heels she awkwardly walked in, but fundamentally it wasn't that much different than the outfits she was told to try out in her pre-show interview.

One difference though, she now thought she looked fabulous in these types of clothes. "What am I playing?"

He confirmed her immediate guess as he led her down a secret hallway to the part of the house that had already been blocked off... the bedroom that she and Tulip slept in, although with her little sister out of the way playing with her dog for the day, the bedding had been changed to look like something more out of a cheap hotel. "You're playing a teen prostitute. It's going to be a small but pivotal role."

"I'm going to be an extra aren't I?"

Jackson smiled at her, making her feel like she was melting. "I promise you, you're not going to be an extra. We wouldn't bring the cast all the way over here just so you can be an extra."

"But you didn't make me practice any lines, so..."

"Not all parts are speaking. All you have to do is smile at the men who come in... and then suck their cocks." That stopped her, mouth dropping open, as Jackson continued, as though this were a perfectly ordinary thing. "One of them is playing an undercover cop, and he has to prove that he's willing to do something illegal by trying out one of the boss's whores. It shows his gradual corruption."

That explanation, that casualness of the delivery, put Shirley into a weird space, mentally, where she wasn't sure if she was being unreasonable. "But... I can't actually do that! I'm only fifteen! It's illegal!"

"No it isn't," he lied. "It's just hardly ever done. A lot of rules govern underage actresses. And obviously, sex would be another thing entirely. But blowjobs are totally allowed for a girl your age if we follow strict protocols. You don't appear nude on film at any point... I mean, we can show you nude, too, but it's really a one-or-the-other thing for the rating we're going for." That actually didn't seem that bizarre considering other stuff she'd heard about the rating system only allowing the use of the word 'fuck' once, or how you could show a woman nude but you almost never saw a guy's dick. "And of course, we'd need parental supervision to show you nude. We can't do that here because your parents aren't allowed to know, thanks to the Twist, so blowjobs will have to do."

"But... but... I've never actually given a blowjob."

"Even better. It'll lend authenticity to the scene. You're a new whore." And then, before she could object further, Jackson showed her how they would protect her innocence, the supposedly legally required steps to absolutely ensure that no one had sex with anything but her mouth, which turned out to be a harness with two large dildos, once inserted into her pussy, and the other in her ass, then locked tight so it could not be removed and was hidden under her miniskirt. Shirley had to admit, after Jackson talked her into insertion, that nobody would be able to fuck her until the whole getup was removed, but it sure felt a lot like being stuffed in both her holes at once, and that after all that, it didn't seem to be that big a deal to let a couple cocks in her mouth. Three, as it turned out, Jackson offering to write himself in as a third customer sealed the deal. Or, rather, the knowledge that refusing one of the Dreams was grounds for expulsion from the house sealed the deal, but getting to legally suck Jackson's cock did make the whole idea a little more palatable.

Turned out, it wasn't so bad, on her knees with both lower holes stuffed and her own movements providing friction and motion of the rubber dicks inside of her. With her slurping on the cock of a stranger sitting down in front of her, Shirley had to bob up and down a lot and when she did, the movement of her chastity-protection-device felt pretty fucking good, as did Jackson's approving smile. Under his gaze, it felt like she wasn't doing anything wrong, or dirty. In the end, she decided it was probably best to take the experience for what it provided, some dirty harmless fun from the rubber cocks of the chastity-preserving device and a chance to get an up close lesson in real ones that were all part of a movie debut that could lead to much bigger things. Did, in fact, although not the way she anticipated.

She also didn't anticipate really liking how she looked with cum on her face. Swallowing it, that would take some getting used to, something she did for Jackson happily but the second guy was a bit more of a challenge, even though she was close to cumming both from the insertions and the sheer breathlessness that being facefucked gave her. Swallowing his cum put the breaks on that orgasm, but she managed it with her third, the one in the chair, who also thankfully pulled out after his first squirt and rubbed his spewing cock all over his face. Shirley first felt a rush of shame as the goo slid around her reddening face, and more as a few real-looking ten dollar bills were shoved in her hands and moments later the men left, talking about what a good little whore she'd been, telling Jackson they needed to fuck her next time, and she did start to think that they didn't really behave very much like actors... but then Jackson came by, told her she had done great, that he was surprised that they managed it all in one take, then showed her cum-splattered, makeup-smeared face in his mirror, and Shirley saw something beautiful there. "And," he said, "You can keep the money, too.."

He stayed with her some time after that, first helping her gently scrub the cum from her face and neck and then removing the device under her skirt that was supposed to protect her innocence but felt like it had done the complete opposite. The one in her ass pulled out slowly, like she was forcing it, but the one in her pussy was slicker than it had gone in, and left a void, Jackson pulled her lips apart, commented about what a juicy pussy it looked like now and how he'd like to fuck it.

"Why not now?" Shirley suggested, surprising herself. "I mean I got so used to that thing in there it almost feels weird without it."

That day became Shirley's first time with a man, or any living cock, a special moment in any girl's life and romantic in comparison to her first blowjob, but not as romantic as she'd hoped for, since Jackson did insist on calling her a "good little whore" while she rode on his cock, sitting on his lap in the same chair the last man she'd sucked off had done. But if it wasn't as romantic as she'd pictured it might be, it at least made her cum, which Shirley decided was probably better than the other way around and at least he'd said she was HIS good little whore which was at least a kind of romantic.

That shred of romance she clung to, despite Jackson also giving her cash after the sex, money she tucked into her top after changing into her normal clothes to join her family for a dinner that they didn't know was the first where one of their daughters wasn't a virgin, and Shirley didn't know was the first where both of them weren't. She still thought she was special, a seduction expert who had seduced herself a way into a paying gig that wasn't just a promise for the end of the show. Shirley still had that cash hidden away... the family may have thought they were penniless but she'd kept that squirrelled away as a just-in-case fund, hidden in her bra at the bank... she didn't want to waste it on cab fare there when a walk would do them all good.

It took about the fourth or fifth time she sexually serviced strange men before she started to think, "Wait a minute, am I just actually a whore?" and then soon after that, "You know I'm starting to think this whole reality show might be fake." Shirley was always more book smart than street smart, although that would change by the end of the Dream House.

Her next whore duties were prompted by Jackson suggesting that everybody at the studio loved her scene and wanted to audition her for more intense roles. Said suggestion came while she was getting an unprofessional fuck after a professional shave and before a professional makeup application, and she came soon after and finally Jackson, before Shirley tried on, and decided she looked fabulous in, her skimpiest swimsuit yet. That one was a drawstring bikini that showed mostly underboob and sometimes felt like only her erect nipples were keeping her breasts from entirely slipping through the bottom. As for the bottoms, she definitely needed to be shaved for those, even a modest triangle of hair would peek out the edges of the strip of fabric that ran down her mound before disappearing nestling into her pussy lips and becoming the tiniest string that ran up her ass--invisible without spread cheeks--and appearing out the other side thicker once more. Unthinkable to wear before, but now her only concern was that what Jackson left inside her might leak out... and even that idea didn't bother her so much as worry about the consequences if Mom saw and recognized it for what it was, put her foot down, maybe dragged them away from the house just while things were getting good. So when Jackson asked again, post-fuck, about the auditions, she told them to set them up. After all, if Shirley was comfortable wearing that out to the pool, getting her dad to lotion up every inch of bare skin and risk her Mom freaking out--and she was--there was no sense in refusing a few auditions that she might not get a chance for anyway, or might wind up being her last chance to make an impression.

Mom didn't say anything though, aside from a raised eyebrow, and so she was able to go through with the auditions after all, all of which turned out to be held in the Confessional, safe from parental interference. Shirley found herself called there at random times, like everyone in the family was, only now she wasn't being called there to ask questions about her day or how she felt about the regular competitions. She almost wished they would start asking her questions again, so she could tell them about her observation of the growing trend of competitions that required motions that caused her breasts to frequently slip out of her swimsuit--which she was sure would have to be otherwise censored for television--but it seemed like she never got the chance. After she'd said yes to auditions her private time was always an excuse to introduce her to a new casting director who wanted to test out her blowjob skills and give her money after as an audition fee. No more cash, though... that was exclusively a first time tradition, but they still let her think her mouth was earning money and she'd get a personal check for the total at the end of the show. She had that with her in the bank too, but didn't think she was going to cash it. It was worth more as a momento.

The other big difference in these audition encounters was that the protective harness wasn't used. Shirley was told this was because the scene wasn't on camera, which also made it okay for them to check her ass out, up close and personal, spread the cheeks apart, talk about how fuckable it was, maybe stick a finger or two in, all of which might have scared her if Jackson--who seemed to have a lot of clout in the industry--wasn't staying in the room as her protector, to remind them that she wasn't yet sixteen and so any scenes other than oral would need to be simulated, which a few tried by sticking their cock between her legs and pounding that way. That was okay, although most liked to finish in her mouth, and she wished she had the harness after all, because that made the whole thing a lot more fun. But Shirley wasn't a whore, she assumed for the first few times, despite getting money for blowjobs, because if she was a whore she didn't think Jackson would advise them to simulate scenes instead of actually just raping her, or that he'd point out that for certain advanced scenes she'd require a parent's permission.

When that permission came, she was as surprised as anybody and got what she thought was her first on-screen ass-fuck by a stranger, a scene Jackson prepared her for with an in-person ass-fuck in the makeup chair to get her used to it and settle her nerves and practice the right look on her face for the scene--tongue out and drooling, and eyes rolled back in her head. Shirley would have believed that was a scam to do something very inappropriate with a minor if not for the meticulous way Jackson had her work on that expression, as well as fact that her mother watched the whole audition. Mom's expression was much more jaded than Shirley's was supposed to be, but then she wasn't on camera. Might have been heard on the video, but then she didn't have much to say except the advice to 'fuck that whore ass' to the man who was, indeed, fucking her ass. That direction--not in any script she'd seen--seemed hurtful for a mom to a daughter, but Shirley assumed the words--and in fact the whole reason Mom allowed the scene at all, was her mom's time of the month. Mom could often be an extra bitch to them on those weeks, and Shirley thought her mother probably thought she was teaching a lesson about the consequences of slutty dress and behavior. That was so like her.

Shirley's own time of the month came soon after, which, temporarily, put an end to the slutty swimwear and posing in front of the pool and the auditions and most of her sexual escapades with Jackson or anyone else. In fact, Jackson barely saw her at all, after she refused an audition because she "wasn't in the mood" he stopped making her daily appointments... which made that time even worse, because even on her period she still got horny, she just wasn't sure how to deal with it without getting messy. Mom told her he'd be back when she was more 'cooperative,' and she must known why she wasn't and must have told everyone else which is why she spent some very depressed days and which gave her the clarity to come to her own reality check, that the sex going on around her was pretty fucking weird.

When Jackson finally came back, he said it more or less outright, asking her if she was prepared to be a good little whore again and, to her surprise, she was. She liked how being a whore looked... which was usually slutty, although sometimes whoever she was with had a special request and she found herself in some kind of costume, often a cheerleader or a girl scout, that only looked slutty when she was kneeling and sucking on a large cock in them. Or when a guy pulled some of the clothes out of the way to slam his cock into her, while she was doing that ahegao-face Jackson liked so much. That face was was starting to come naturally to her. So were other things. It was fun dressing up in elaborate outfits, but lately being naked made her feel ultra-feminine, as was wearing something that was the next thing to it. And actually embracing her sexuality felt powerful, not to mention the orgasms. But most of all she was starting to just like the concept of 'acting like a whore,' which gave her a thrill even when she wasn't ready to accept that was what was going on, and even more now... at least after Jackson gave her some hope that he could fall in love with a whore. Which he did by with a heart-to-heart, sitting beside her and telling her that that was one thing movies got wrong, that an owned whore was like the star of the show, the vital part of the business, respected, appreciated, as long as she performed. Owning a whore was every man's dream, and at the Dream House, he was hoping she'd make his dream come true. When he put it like that, agreeing to be a good little whore again seemed like an act of romance.

Then Jackson suggested a dream for her, suggested that if her periods soured her mood enough to not want to do the job, they could ensure she doesn't have one in the house again. All they'd have to do is have her earn a Dream Token, and arranged a chance for one in a private kids-only challenge that involved she and her sister competing over who could make the other cum first. Unfortunately, she unexpectedly lost that challenge because her little sister was somehow really good at eating pussy, deployed some unfair tongue tricks while going at it with the eagerness of a dog, but Jackson gave Shirley another chance to win one by sucking the dog's cock while getting fucked in the ass. Shirley used that Token, as instructed, hoping that her Dream would grant her a special kind of birth control device and was only a little flummoxed when it turned out they would be preventing her periods the natural way by doing their best to get her pregnant, by making sure Jackson dumped loads of cum in her when it was most likely to work. Since it was only Jackson, who had won some kind of right to be the only one who would knock her up this time around, and that kind of sounded romantic, she went along with it.

By the time they got around to making that Dream come true, she'd come around the whole way, accepted that their entire time in the house, and before, was a calculated, perverted scam to sexually exploit her and her family, had some talks with Mom about it, both of them agreed that they might as well play along and enjoy the good parts of it. When she asked Jackson if that was his real name, while Mom stroked his cock off in her optimally-fertile pussy, it was only in the hopes that, now that she had performed as a good little whore, that she was letting him fuck up her life, he might volunteer it to show her trust. That he didn't... hurt, but there were better things than hurt going on, and maybe he would change his mind when she was carrying his baby and had officially submitted herself as his whore, something she was totally planning to do especially since Mom seemed to give the okay.

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.