Door in the Closet
Chapter 1

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, Ma/ft, ft/ft, Mult, Consensual, Reluctant, Science Fiction, Incest, Father, Daughter, DomSub, Light Bond, Gang Bang, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Sex Toys,

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - After discovering that her closet is a doorway leading to an alternative universe, Jilly uses it to find sanctuary from her abusive father and sympathetic, but weak-willed mother. As the teenager's life takes one bad turn after another, she begins to wonder if she couldn't stay on the other side forever.

The accident messed everything up and our lives weren't the same afterwards. It had taken some of the life out of my dad and my mom wasn't strong enough to keep the balance. I don't suppose I helped things very much either, being a sixteen year old girl and not very brave or even particularly smart sometimes. Whatever the reasons, whoever's to blame, all that matters is that we weren't very happy anymore.

"Jilly!" my father's voice echoed through the house. "Jilly! Get your ass in here!"

I bit my bottom lip and looked up from the kitchen table at my mother as she wiped the stove. When I'd been younger we used to eat our dinners together as a family. Now we ate alone, the way we did everything else.

"Finish your supper," Mom said, her tone weary and resigned. "I'll go."

She left the kitchen and I picked at my plate, waiting for the inevitable. I wasn't very hungry anymore.

"Not you, bitch!" Daddy shouted. "I want Jilly to do it! Get her in here! Jilly!"

I didn't wait for my mom to come back. I got up from the table and went to the den where my dad waited impatiently. He'd been drinking. He was always drinking and always angry. In the beginning Mom had tried to talk to him, me too, but that only made it worse, so now we didn't say anything at all.

Mom passed me in the hallway and offered me a naked smile. She meant to be reassuring, I suppose, but it was only sad. I blamed her then for my dad's depression and for her own inability to fix it. I blamed her for what was happening to us and every other thing wrong with the world. A woman was supposed to be stronger than that, especially a mom.


"I'm here, Daddy," I said, hesitating in the doorway for just a second. I looked at him without looking at him because he was always on the lookout for any reluctance on my part, any hint of fear or pity.

"About fuckin' time," he breathed, looking over his shoulder at me. "I've been calling you for half an hour. Where you been?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy." I walked towards him as he sat facing the bay windows and the empty street outside.

"My leg hurts," he told me. "I don't want your bitch of a mother touching me anymore."

"I know, Daddy," I said. "I'll get the ointment."

"Where'd you go last night?" he asked, watching as found the lotion for his leg. "I couldn't sleep. Bad dreams."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." I knelt in front of his chair and lifted away the blanket. Not all of it though, just enough to uncover what remained of his right leg.

"Take it off," he told me and I hid my frown beneath a veil of long auburn hair as I pulled the blanket away completely.

He wore a pair of old pants that Mom had tailored. The right leg hemmed high and loose enough that we could expose the withered stump of his thigh. Of course, his penis was exposed now too, deliberately released some time before so he could play with it, and that's what he really wanted me to see. It jutted upright through the open fly of his trousers, thick and ruddy, already moist with his clear precum leaking from the tip. He wasn't wearing his rings and I blamed Mom for that too.

I swallowed hard and tried to ignore his erection, knowing that my dad was staring down at me, enjoying this casual abuse. I understood he did it only because he hated himself, not because he disliked me, but it felt the same. I rolled up his right pant leg carefully, wishing not to touch the man's flesh until I had no choice. His once muscular leg was now a stump and what remained seemed hopelessly shrunken, the sinews choked and ruined by self-loathing and neglect as much as by the accident itself.

"Rub it, girl," he demanded. "Fuckin' hurts so bad. You're the only one can make it better."

"I know, Daddy." I nodded slowly, focusing my attention on the stump in front of me.

The flesh was white like a corpse, and wrinkled with flaps of skin that the surgeons had sewn together over the raw meat inside like a sausage. It disgusted me and I tasted the bile rising in the back of my throat. I could taste fear down there as well, not of my father or even of his deformity, but from knowing that such a thing existed at all. The very possibility frightened me terribly. I had no greater dread than that it could happen to me by nothing more than mere chance. Touching that injury was like touching something worse than death.

"That's it. Better, Jilly," my dad sighed as I worked my hands over his stump. "Better now."

My fingers were slippery with an ointment that was little more than a placebo. The physicians had assured my mom that the pain was all in her husband's head. The nerves were dead and anything my father might have felt, the distress of his condition or the pleasure of my gentle hands, was all imagined.

"The other too," he grunted. "You know what I need, Jilly."

"Daddy..." I cleared my throat softly.

"I said in your mouth, slut!" he yelled, making me jerk back on my heels. "You spend all night sucking off your boyfriends? You can spend all day sucking off your daddy too!"

There was nothing I could do as his hands were already on my head, his fingers digging into my hair and pulling my face towards his cock. I should have sensed his mood better, that was my only fleeting thought before my barely parted lips were battered aside by the head of his penis. My teeth scratched his flesh, but that didn't matter to him. Daddy filled my mouth with his cock, pushing me down until the glans hit the back of my mouth and I choked on it painfully, coughing and retching against that rude sensation.

"Fuckin' whore." He let me go then, satisfied that I was impaled on his prick and would do as he desired.

I blinked back the tears filling my hazel eyes and moved my tongue cautiously, licking weakly at the underside of his cock and lifting my head just enough so that I would stop gagging. I had to massage his stump blindly while I nursed on his erection, struggling at times without the benefit of being able to hold it with anything but my tightly stretched lips. This was what my dad wanted me for and why he rejected his wife. She'd have done it dutifully, even willingly as she should, but the fire of my father's self-destruction required depravity to feed it.

"Oughta make you ride, cunt," he breathed. "Fuck that little hole of yours. Slut. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Whore. How many boys you fuck when you sneak out at night?"

I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I slid my lips up and down the shaft, washing his cock with my tongue and somehow finding the determination to make it good for him. The sooner I could make him cum, the sooner he'd be finished with me. I worked his cock the best I knew how, letting him feel my mouth warm and wet and soft all around. I swallowed my dad's precum and never let his penis slip from my sucking grasp. I moved my fingers around his stump all the while, knowing he couldn't even feel it. I could though and the revulsion was nearly overwhelming.

"All of it!" he demanded finally, growing closer to his orgasm. "Open your fuckin' throat, Jilly."

It took a few heartbeats to prepare myself and even that proved too long for my dad's growing urgency. He pushed down on my head with both hands, jamming his cock into my throat as I tried to swallow beneath him. It hurt and I felt a moment of panic, but then he was in and holding my face against his trousers. His wiry pubic hair at the base of his cock tickled my lips and I couldn't breathe or move. I'd frozen with my father's penis wrapped in the confines of my delicate throat.

"Gahhh! Fuck! Eat it, whore!" He started cumming and I felt his cock pulsing rapidly as his ejaculate spilled into my stomach.

I couldn't taste it or even feel his semen as anything but an indistinct warmth, but I felt his cock and my throat was clasped so tightly around it that I couldn't tell his spasms from my own. My body was trying to expel him, or swallow him completely. My lungs burned and labored uselessly as my racing heart demanded fresh air. It was a painful and humiliating experience and I'd begun to sob even before he let me go.

I pulled my mouth from his penis with a wash of saliva and the thin remains of my father's orgasm. I tasted him then, bitter and salty, and I felt bruised. My lips and throat throbbed; my tongue seemed thick and swollen. I pushed myself away, shaking and standing on rubbery legs. I was flushed embarrassment, nauseated with his incestuous sperm churning in my belly, and the man said nothing at all, but only laughed drunkenly as I stumbled from the room.

Leaning against the wall beneath family portraits, strangers framed in happier times, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I hawked up phlegm and semen into my mouth and frowned, blinking my wet eyes and forcing myself to swallow it rather than spit the slime onto the floor and have to clean the memory up later. I caught my breath slowly and wiped at my eyes, shaking my head and reminding myself that it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry you have to do that," Mom said, leaning into the hallway mirror. She wore a silk pantsuit, salmon pink and clinging to her body. I watched as my mom tilted her head, fitting an earring into her left ear.

"I know." I looked down.

"He's your father, Jilly," she said and that meant so little coming from her. "He just needs..."

"Needs me?" I snorted. "Yeah."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm, uh ... I have to go out for a little bit and..."

"And what, Mom?" I lifted my eyes and she didn't turn away from me. "Visit a sick friend again? Another Rubberware party? What's the point?"

"Jilly," she said. "This isn't easy for me either. I have needs too."

"Just..." I waved at her. "Just let me know when you're not coming back, okay? I don't need the surprise."

"Jilly..." Mom frowned as I slipped past her, going upstairs to my room.

Dad would fall asleep in his chair and he could get around by himself anyway. He wasn't so crippled as he liked to pretend. He had one good leg and when nobody was there to play fetch for him, he used it. When he needed a new bottle. When he needed the bathroom or something to eat. When he needed to find me in the middle of the night, balancing over my bed in the dark and jerking off onto my face while I pretended to sleep, just so I wouldn't have to take him in my mouth. Oh yeah, Daddy wasn't a cripple at all, except in his soul.

" ... your hands off me!"

"Bitch! Where do you think you're going?"

"You're drunk! Stop it!"

"Get your ass in here!"

"Owww! Bastard! Ah!"

The dull sound of my mother being slapped around floated through the floor and it had become a familiar tune. I barely heard it anymore. She should have snuck out, the way I often did, and Dad wouldn't have known she was gone until it was too late. I put my earphones on and turned on my Opid, just glad that it wasn't me again. I'd made him happy; now Mom would be making him mad and the world kept turning.

I'd have to lock my door later, even though that would just make it worse probably, because when my dad woke up he'd be horny. If that's really the word for what he felt. Mom would be gone all night and that would piss him off too, so he'd be looking for someone to blame. Locking the door wouldn't keep him out, but at least the pounding would wake me up, instead of some of the other ways he liked to do it. I'd be a little more ready for him then, except I never was.

That's when I found the door in my closet. There didn't seem to be anything else special about it. I never found a specific reason, so I don't know why the door appeared that night. I guess if it had to happen anyway, one particular time instead of another didn't really have much to do with it. That's about all the explanation I can think of and looking for more is a lot like asking why I'd been born me instead of someone else - It's just the way it is and if it wasn't, how would I ever tell the difference?

I'd been looking for an old purse, remembering some pink fingernail polish I thought I had, and when I opened my closet door I saw my bedroom. Not exactly mine though, it looked different, but still the same size and everything. The carpet was the same dull beige, but the walls were a pleasant shade of blue instead of a dingy off-white like mine were. I didn't know what to think and I just walked in. The air felt warmer, I noticed that, and it smelled better too. Not like anything really, it just smelled fresh and clean. A few feet into the room I looked over my shoulder, and through the open closet door I could see my bedroom on the other side.

It looked ugly compared to this new one.

Yeah. This room was better. The bed looked about the same size, but made up with clean sheets and the pillows had pillow cases on them. There were curtains on the windows, simple white ones, but they were nice. I saw some posters on the wall of bands I'd never heard of. The Rolling Stones? What kind of name is that? I figured it had to be some stupid boy band and the tongue thing looked seriously pornographic! It made me blush just standing there and I looked away from it quickly. Another poster said New York Yankees on it and I didn't even know what that meant. I guess it must have been the name of the album because Derek Jeter seemed to be the singer's name. He looked cute anyway, except the guy held a club over his shoulder.

There was other stuff, boy stuff it looked like to me, but I didn't know what all of it meant. I looked at a model of a cloudcar half assembled on a desk, but I'd never seen one with wings before and it looked kinda cool. The box said it was a Spitfire and one of the greatest airplanes of World War Two, which must have been a movie or a book or something. Probably a comic book, I figured, because that cloudcar didn't look like it would get ten feet off the ground without crashing. Those wings would have to flap pretty fast and I had no idea what the spinner thing might be for. I didn't like comic books really, but my boyfriend did and he was always trying to get me to look at weird stuff like that.

At least I recognized the aquarium, the most normal thing in the room, and I smiled when I saw it. I'd had a little fishbowl once, like every kid does probably, but of course my little goldfish hadn't lasted long. This was a real fish tank though, with blue-green gravel and a little treasure box that made bubbles when the lid opened. The fish were cool and I'd never seen anything like them, sort of flat with disk-shaped bodies and long flowing fins. They were pretty too, all black and white and yellow, and I tapped the glass for a moment just enjoying the way they seemed to hover in the water.

I walked around slowly without touching anything else, but only looking, and I saw there were a lot of pictures stuck in the frame of the dresser mirror. They were mostly girls, a few boys, but a lot of girls and they looked like school pictures mostly. I pulled one out, a picture of a girl who looked a lot like my boyfriend Mahk. I mean, they were different obviously, cause Mahk is a total guy, but they were both blonde with the same color hair, and the same blue eyes too. I'd know Mahk's eyes anywhere and this girl had them. It seemed very strange and I turned the photo over.

"For Jimmie! I'll always love you! Forever yours, Mandy," I read out loud. Those were sort of weird names, I thought, but not completely weird. I'd just never heard them before.

I had a sense of déjà vu almost, finding some of the other pictures reminded me of people I knew as well. They weren't identical, nothing like that, but just the same...

"Who are you?" a voice asked and I jumped, dropping Mandy's picture and looking over my shoulder to see a boy.

He stood in the open bedroom doorway staring at me and I ran. I didn't think about it. I just ran back to the closet, into my own bedroom, and slammed the closet door shut behind me. I jumped on my bed, kicking myself into the corner and hugging my knees to my chest. I watched the door with my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for it to open and that guy to chase me. He didn't though and it took about ten minutes before my tummy stopped hurting and I could breathe normally again.

I kind of wanted to open that closet door and take a little peek, but I felt too frightened. I thought maybe I should push my dresser in front of it instead, just in case that boy tried to come into my room. That seemed sort of dumb though, so I just sat there wondering what it meant and if I should tell someone.

Chapter 2 »