Chapter 01

“I haven’t got all day,” she said, inspecting one perfectly manicured nail instead of looking down at me. “This is as close to sex with me as you’re going to get, so be thankful I used lube and get thrusting.”

Donna was dressed in a black bolero jacket over a black leather corset, black pencil skirt, seamed stockings, and stilettos which were just tall enough that they emphasized her perfect calves but not so high that she tottered when she walked. The black on black outfit went perfectly with her shimmering black hair and genetically perfect tan skin.

The only light in the room was the television, showing a news bit about another spandex clad hero saving a busload of kids. But the dim light couldn’t hide that I was naked, pale, wrinkled, and bent at the waist in front of her. The dildo behind me wasn’t even attached to a strap on, just a suction cup on the wall with a little lube on it. My stiffie was rock hard.

I spread my butt cheeks and scooted backwards. “When I suggested we have sex-”

“Suggested?” Her nail forgotten as she glared at me. “You approached this whole thing like a business transaction. Like I was some kind of prostitute.”

“Would you have said yes otherwise?”

I was inching backwards when she pushed my shoulders, slamming the foreign invader all the way into me. I felt like a piece of firewood, split apart by an axe. I tried to push off of it, but she grabbed my hair on both sides of my head and yanked it up, inches from her cleavage.

“Pathetic. If you weren’t my father-”

“Creator,” I corrected. “We’re related by superpower, not blood.”

“Listen, Daddy,” she snarled. “Be grateful I acknowledge you at all. If your pathetic excuse for a penis is any indication, some sick twisted part of your brain is getting off on the idea of fucking your daughter.”

She pulled me forward by my hair into her deliciously presented cleavage and slammed me back on the dildo as she spoke. I started to point out that we weren’t actually fucking, but kept my mouth shut. I still hadn’t found where she had hidden that whippy rattan cane.

My face burned with embarrassment, my ass hurt, but she was right. I was harder than I’d ever been in my life.

I’d never been a teenager, never been young, never been anything. Born an old man with the power to create, I immediately used my power to try and make something good. Ace, my first, was focused, fit, young and already on his way to becoming a millionaire. He also — if I was being honest — had all the personality of a piece of cardboard.

It was Ace who referred to my second creation — the bubbly young lady I had made specifically to love him — as his sister. Doomed to love a man who would never love her back, Bailey hated my guts, as much as the perky little ray of sunshine was capable of hating anyone.

Like all of my “children,” Charlie was fairly handsome. Other than that, he was nothing special. My failed attempt to create a normal person. Charlie took care of me, mediated disputes between the rest of the family, and got us all legal identities. But even Ace’s wealth couldn’t save Charlie when he was arrested as a serial killer.

With Donna, I gave up on normal. She was classy, sexy, and went through men like water. No one was good enough for more than an evening’s amusement.

Donna slammed me down on the dildo so hard that the wall rattled. “How dare you zone out on me while I’m fucking you.”