Chapter 1 - The Revelation

The key turned in the lock with a soft click, Steve had managed to leave college a day early. He grinned, dropping his duffel bag silently in the foyer. Home a day early. They’re gonna freak. The house was quiet, save for a low, rhythmic thumping bass coming from the family room. Weird music for a Tuesday night.

He padded down the hall, the plush carpet muffling his steps. Stopping short at the arch that leads to the family room. The scene that unfolded in the wide doorway was a tableau so bizarre, so utterly wrong, that his brain simply refused to process it at first.

His father, Robert, was sprawled in his favorite recliner, his pants around his ankles. Mia, his younger sister, was straddling his lap, her blonde hair whipping back and forth, her impressive 36DD breasts sloshing and jiggling wildly with every frantic bounce. Her head was thrown back, a silent scream of pleasure on her luscious lips. “Fuck, Daddy, yes! Right there!”

Zoé the eldest child of the household, her red hair a fiery contrast to the dark leather, was on her knees between their dad’s legs, her mouth working furiously his testicle with a wet, rhythmic slurping and glrk that made Steve’s stomach clench.

And his mother ... Susan stood over them, naked, her pale skin glowing in the lamplight. Her truly immense 38JJ breasts swayed heavily as she used one hand on Zoé’s slit, slowly rubbing her clit while the other played with her own taut, pink nipple. Her voice was a low, commanding purr. “That’s it, baby girl, ride his big cock. Make your daddy fucking cum.”

Steve’s world tilted on its axis. A cold, nauseating wave crashed over him. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. He took a stumbling step backward, his shoe scuffing the floorboard.

Susan’s head snapped up, her green eyes locking onto his. Her expression shifted from carnal bliss to wide-eyed shock in a heartbeat. “Steve?”

That one word, the sound of his name in that room, in that context, shattered the last of his resolve. He spun on his heel and ran to his car. He didn’t stop until he was three towns over, paying cash for a dingy motel room that smelled of mildew and regret. He ignored the persistent buzzing of his phone, a chorus of calls from ‘Mom’, ‘Dad’, ‘Mia’, ‘Zoé’. He turned it off, plunging the room into a silence that was filled with the grotesque, wet sounds still echoing in his skull.

Lying on the lumpy mattress, his mind replayed the last few years in vivid, gut-wrenching detail. The locked doors of his sisters’ rooms, always accompanied by soft, muffled moans that he had dismissed as teenage masturbation or late-night phone calls. Now, those sounds took on a much more sinister meaning. They weren’t alone, he realized with a sickening lurch in his stomach. They were ... God, they were with each other. His sisters, Mia and Zoé, coupling in ways he could barely comprehend.

Then there were the nights his parents would announce it was “adult time,” sending him to a friend’s house with vague excuses about needing privacy. He’d thought it was just code for marital intimacy, something he’d always tried not to think too hard about. But now, the images of his mother, Susan, fingering her daughter, Zoé, her massive breasts bouncing wildly as she played with them in abandon, burned into his brain. He’d been so oblivious, so naive.