Chapter 3: Daddy’s Slutty Daughter

“Alex, please, your sister is fine,” Deidre Icke said into the PA system, staring at the security feed. Her sixteen-year-old son rammed his shoulder into the metal door of the locked storage room, the makeshift jail they put him in.

Everything was going wrong. Deidre Icke was entrusted with fulfilling Dr. Blavatsky’s desire to awaken mankind to a new level of enlightenment via the creation of artificial gods with the Halo. Individuals who would be chosen by sending the devices to the right persons, selected by channeling the spirit of their departed Guru. Only one of their members broke the rules. He sent a second Halo to the god Henry Archer for his girlfriend.

And once one person broke a rule, it wasn’t long before another did.

Her son succumbed to temptation. He used the Gemini Halo, designed for a set of twins to use. He triggered it with his twin sister Alexis. Deidre wasn’t sure why her children passed out, but they had to lock them up until they could complete destroying the technology to build the Halo.

“You’ll hurt yourself, Alex,” she said, shifting. She was furious with her son for his betrayal of the Institute’s purpose, but she didn’t want to see him hurt himself.

He ignored her. He slammed into the door again. Again.

“You can’t get out,” she said. “We’ll free you as soon as the facility is evacuated.” She knew she would fall under her children’s powers. They were Gods now. Not the right ones, and they might keep mankind from ever evolving, but they were still her children. She still would love them.

Alex ignored her. He crashed into the door again. She winced each time. On the other monitor, Alexis huddled in the corner, looking so frightened. Her poor daughter tried to stop her brother, rebelling against him, only to inadvertently trigger the Halo in the process.

Deidre looked at her husband. “Can you talk to our son? Get him to stop, Master?”

Robert shook his head. “He’s not going to stop. His woman is in danger.”

“He’ll injure himself.”

“No, the Halo will sustain him.”

Deidre’s eyes widened. The Halo healed. It gave the God more strength and stamina. She glanced at the monitor, noticed the door shaking more. He was damaging it. It wasn’t designed to trap people. The Institute didn’t have jails. They were first and foremost a Technology company, manufacturing their own products and shipping them around the world, the day-to-day activities that supported their true purpose.

She grabbed the mouse, adjusting the PA system to broadcast through the entire building. “This is Deidre Icke,” she said, her body trembling in nervous, “anyone who doesn’t want to fall under the rogue Gods influences, evacuate the Institute right now.”

As she spoke these words, something died inside of her. It was over. They wouldn’t get to see what new lessons the four true Gods were giving right now. They would just have to go out into the world, attracted to the God who they felt closest to.

The Institute had failed.

Willis Chevrolet – Capricorn

I stood in my kitchen, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Take control of my life. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I wouldn’t have a wife who cheated on me then threatened to destroy my life if I tried to leave her. She never said what she would do, but she impaled making claims about me...

My son was disappointed in me, ashamed that I was so weak. He knew his mother wasn’t going to her pilates class to exercise. She was showing off those fake tits I paid for last year, dressed like a whore. My teenage daughter wasn’t much better. She was following her mother’s example, treating me like a living ATM.

Just a cash machine, nothing less.

If I was stronger, if I had a spine, this wouldn’t happen. If I was just a man, my wife wouldn’t cuckold me, and my children would respect me. But I wasn’t. I leaned against the kitchen, contemplating the bleak future before me. Working at my office job so my wife could waste my money with...

I stood there, my thoughts sinking lower and lower, a bleak shadow pressing down on me and—

My daughter burst back into the house. Garnet, seventeen, dressed like a whore, following her mother’s example. A pair of tight jeans that looked like she was poured into them and a low-cut top that showed off her teenage tits. Her blonde hair, a natural hue unlike her mother, spilled about her face. She clutched a package in her arms.

“Some dumb robot just dropped this off on the porch,” she said, marching to me. She shook it. I could hear the shifting of packing peanuts. “Feels expensive. Is it for me?”

I shook my head. Was this what the text message referred to? What would let me take control of my life? It sounded like utter nonsense, but ... Wouldn’t it be wonderful to take control of things. To wrangle in my whore-wife and my slut-daughter. The way Garnet dressed, it was clear she was sexually active. Fucking guys, probably finding some dumb guy to trap and be her living ATM.

Poor bastard.

“Open it!” my daughter said, thrusting it at me. “I want my gift.”

She was worse than her mother. Dianne wasn’t this selfish. I’d always given Garnet what she wanted, spoiling her. Clearly, that was a mistake. She was an utter monster, a bitch who saw how her mother walked over me and joined in the fun.

The ceiling creaked, my son shifting around. Jason was fifteen, a good kid. He hated how my wife and daughter treated me. I could feel it. He wanted me to be strong. He wanted me to be a real man and was disappointed in me. That hurt almost as much as my wife’s adultery.

I set the package on the counter, my daughter bouncing beside me, eager for it. My name was on the package. There was no return address. I didn’t care. I picked at a corner of the packing tape, finally getting a hold of it, and ripped.

I opened the package. A set of instructions were on top. My daughter tossed those aside as I snagged what was beneath it, a gold ring, some sort of circlet. It hummed in my hand. I could feel something ... like power in it.

The power to change my life.

“Ooh, that’s so pretty!” my daughter said, grabbing it and trying to pull it out of my hand. “I want to wear it!”

“No,” I found myself saying.

My daughter blinked at me. “What?” She stared at me and tugged. “Let go of it, Dad! This is mine.”

I growled, a surge of frustrated anger rippling through me. I wrenched it out of her hand with ease. She gasped, her manicured fingernails flashing, catching the kitchen light. The circlet buzzed in my grip, eager for me. I placed it on my head.

“No, that’s should be mine, Dad!” she hissed, her hands shooting at my head.

A tingle raced through my mind the moment I settled the circlet on it. I shuddered as this prickling heat rippled through my mind. My daughter’s fingers seized my hair, sliding through it. Her breasts jiggled in her low-cut top as she hissed in frustration.

“Stop being a bitch right now!” I growled.

Needle-like pain stabbed into my eyes. My daughter gasped, her brown eyes—the same hue as her mother’s—widened. Her hands lowered, her cheeks paling. She swallowed, fidgeting before me, her entire demeaning shifting from demanding to...

Contrite?

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she muttered, looking away from me. “I just ... It was pretty. It’s a circlet. That’s something girls wear. I shouldn’t have tried to pull it off from you.”

My jaw dropped. An apology? She was really ... not acting like a bitch. My entire body tingled.

Then she looked up and licked her lips. “Where did it go, Dad?”

“What?” I asked.

“It’s ... it’s gone. It’s not on your head.”

My fingers ran up my sideburns, sweeping past my ears to slide through my short, blond hair, searching for it. I felt nothing. I frowned, my thoughts tumbling. My daughter’s eyes grew wider. She clutched her hands together, her mouth opened.

Normally, that mouth just spewed abuse at me. Her lips were plump. “I am so tired of your mouth.”

“Dad?” she asked, her voice so strangled.

“I’m so tired of how you speak to me. How you act. Like a bitch. Like a whore.” This fury rose in me, the rage I had forced me down again and again. I had to swallow it day after day, fearing what my wife would do to me, too weak to stop my daughter and wife from trampling over my dignity.

No longer.

“That’s all you are,” I said, staring down at Garnet’s perky, round tits on display in her low-cut top. “Just a whore.”

My thoughts prickled. Burned.

“And there’s only one thing a whore’s mouth is good for,” I growled. “Sucking cock.”

The pain burned. Darkness fuzzed the edges of my thoughts. Little lights burst across my vision. I didn’t care. I was finally letting out my feelings. I didn’t have to swallow them any longer. I didn’t have to devour them. I could finally be myself.

“My cock!” I growled, my eyes boring into her. Lusts I had kept chained up had burst free, too. My daughter had teased me for a year with her body, flaunting her beauty. I had felt so guilty for those feelings, beating them down with my manhood. “Now!”

She squeaked and fell to her knees before me, her blonde hair bouncing about her shoulders. As my vision cleared, her hands fumbled at my slacks. She unzipped my khakis, staring up at me, her brown eyes wide in shock.

“Why am I doing this, Dad?” she asked as she unzipped my hands. “I don’t want to suck your cock. You’re my dad! This is wrong.” Her hands wrenched down my pants. My cock grew hard in my boxers.

This was really happening.

“Why can’t I stop?” she moaned. “I ... I...” Her face contorted. It was like she wanted to say something, and couldn’t.

“Your sucking my cock because you’re a whore. My whore.” I shuddered. “Now suck my cock and swallow my cum!”

She hooked her fingers into my boxers and wrenched them down. I shuddered as my cock sprang out, bouncing hard. My dick bobbed before her, thrusting hard. She licked her lips, her eyes wild. She let out a keening moan as she leaned forward. Her mouth opened.

She sucked my dick into it. I groaned as her lips slid over the tip of my cock. My daughter’s warm, wet mouth engulfed me. Her tongue caressed my cock’s crown. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. Her fingers gripped my hips, clutching to me as she bobbed her head.

“That’s it,” I groaned, my hand stroking through her blonde hair. “That’s how you treat your father. You don’t insult him, you respect him and suck his cock. That’s what whores do. If you were a good girl, you wouldn’t have to do this.”

She whimpered, sucking hard, her eyes growing moist.

Pleasure rippled down my shaft. It had been so long since I had a blowjob. Dianne hadn’t done it since we were dating. The moment I had that wedding ring on her, they dried up. Sex grew less and less infrequent, almost stopping after Jason was conceived.

I shuddered, the pleasure spilling through me. It was amazing. My daughter sucked so hard. Her mouth slid up and down it. her eyes squeezed shut. Her tongue fluttered along my cock. Pleasure shivered through me. Her tongue caressed my dick.

I groaned, my hands gripping her hair. She was such a whore. She was so good at sucking my dick. My daughter’s mouth was hot around my cock. It was incredible. I let out a might growl, my hips thrusting forward, slamming my shaft into the depths of her mouth, brushing the back of her throat.

“This is what a whore’s mouth is for,” I groaned. “And you’re a whore like that cunt-mother of yours.”

She whimpered about my cock, but she sucked with such hunger. Like a slut would. My balls tensed as I loved the feel of my daughter’s mouth working on me. The suction reached down into my nuts. My toes curled. She hummed, adding another delight to it.

She did this a lot. My daughter had skills at blowing a man. My balls tightened. They boiled with cum. It had been a year since I had more than my hand touching me. My hands tightened in her hair, gripping her as the pleasure built and built.

“You’re going to swallow all of my cum, slut!” I growled. “You love my cum. You want it. Crave it.”

She moaned louder. She sucked harder. My daughter made such slurping sounds. It was such a wicked sound. My balls tensed. Pleasure rippled through my body. Her cheeks hollowed, her head twisting and bobbing, caressing me with her tongue.

Stairs creaked. My son descended. I straightened. I wanted him to see this. I wanted him to witness me finally being a man. That I was finally taking charge of his sister. No longer would anyone walk over me. I would be a man he could be proud of.

The pleasure increased as my son came down the stairs. I groaned, my hips thrusting forward. I plowed my cock into her mouth, reveling in my incestuous pleasure. I shuddered. My balls tightened. It was incredible.

My whore-daughter was pleasing me.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my pleasure building and building. My hands gripped her hair.

My son appeared. He froze at the sight of me getting blown. His blue eyes widened, his face, a younger mirror of my own, burst with shock. I groaned, my pleasure surging through me. My dick throbbed as she sucked with such passion.

My cock erupted.

My jizz spurted into her mouth. My jizz fired into her. It splashed into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged then she swallowed. Her brown eyes fluttered as she swallowed it. Pleasure rammed into my mind. It was incredible. The rapture burned across my thoughts. Spots of light burst across my vision, stars celebrating my pleasure.

I growled through my ecstasy. My mind boiled in bliss. I groaned, my hand gripping her hair. She gulped down my cum. It was such a wondrous pleasure. I was dominating my whore-daughter. I was treating her the way she deserved.

“Dad!” Jason gasped as his sister swallowed the last blast of my cum. “What ... I ... Garnet’s ... That’s...”

“Just finally treating your sister the way she acts,” I said. I stared at my son, seeing the confusion. “It’s okay, Jason. Relax.” My thoughts prickled as my son’s shock melted away. I shook my head, these mind-control powers so amazing. Garnet kept nursing on my cock. “I haven’t been a good man. A strong man, but that’s changing. I’m going to show your sister and your mother their true place.”

“True ... place?”

“They’re whores, son,” I said and barely felt a prickle. “And whores need to be on their knees, don’t they?”

“I ... I guess they do,” he said, his expression brightening. “What is this? I mean ... How’d you get her to suck your cock? I mean, she’s still doing it.”

My dick throbbed in her mouth. It felt incredible n her mouth. I wanted to keep letting her do it. I was still hard. It was amazing. I was forty-five. I didn’t stay hard after cumming, but this was so hot. It was a delicious treat to experience. My dick twitched. I could cum in her, but...

“Come on,” I said, ripping my cock out of my daughter’s mouth.

She coughed, drool and cum running down her chin. “Where are we going, Dad?”

“Call me daddy,” I said. “You’re a whore. Make it sexy.”

She shivered, my thoughts buzzing. “Yes, Daddy,” she said, her voice throaty, a sultry purr. She shivered. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to make your mother into the whore she is,” I growled, shoving my cock into my boxers then yanking up my pants. “It’s time for your daddy to be a man.”

“You’re going to go where mom is? I mean, she’s with...” My son swallowed.

“With the cocksucker she’s fucking?” I growled. I was free. No more muzzling myself. No more swallowing my pride. My words. My emotions. “Yeah, that’s where we’re heading. Let’s go.”

I marched forward, my children following. I could feel my son’s eagerness while my daughter ... she brimmed with lust. She was such whore. I would use her. I couldn’t wait to enjoy a tight pussy again.

We piled into my car. It was old. My wife wouldn’t let me buy a new one. She deserved her new trendy Prius while I was stuck with a mid-nineties Honda. I climbed into the faded seat, the yellow-foam padding peeking through in place. My son took the passenger seat, an eager look in his eyes. He hated his mother, too. Despised her for what she was.

My daughter went into the backseat. In the rearview mirror, I watched her fingers scoop my cum off her chin and popping it into her mouth. She whimpered, such a whore. She made it look sexy, her eyes flicking up to meet mine through her reflection.

I grinned and drove. Fast.

It didn’t take us long to get to the Pilates studio. My wife’s car was parked out front by a bronze Camaro from the late seventies. The closed sign was on, the studio lights off, proving that she wasn’t here exercising. Or, well, she was doing a different form of exercise.

My dick ached. I was eager for this. So ready to punish my wife and the asshole cuckolding me. I would take back my manhood. I was seizing my life by the hand. No more getting walked over. No more being a living wallet for my whore-wife.

I smiled. She would be a whore for real.

I stepped out of my car. Traffic was light, crossing the road between us and the studio. I marched across it, my son and daughter following me. Then my son darted ahead. He grabbed the door of the studio, jerking on it.

A bell jingled as it rattled. My son groaned. “It’s locked, Dad. Is there a back way in?”

I locked around, assessing the situation. Garnet posed nearby, her hips wiggling in her tight jeans. She was acting sexy, fluttering her eyes at me, being my whore. She cocked her hips, letting me get a look at that red thong peeking out the back of her jeans. That stretchy denim molded to her underage ass.

I marched back to my car. I didn’t have to be stopped by a locked door. I had powers. I didn’t know what this crazy text and strange device was all about, but I was going to use it. I didn’t have to hold back my desires.

My fury brimmed in me.

I ripped my keys out of my pocket. I jammed into my trunk. I twisted the lock, ripped it open. I shifted around the things inside and uncovered the spare tire. And the tire iron beside it. I gripped the cold metal, smiling.

“Damn, Dad,” Jason said as I marched back. “You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can,” I said. “Your dad can do anything now.”

There was something in his blue eyes, something shining, that made me smile. My son was proud of me. He respected me for once. My back straightened even more. I felt invisible. I could march into the sun and survive.

I slammed the tire iron into the door.

Glass shattered.

It fell in a sheet of sparkling shards that spilled around my feet. Garnet gasped, stepping back in her open-toed shoes. Her toenails were painted a whorish shade of red. Her breasts jiggled in her blouse, her eyes so wide.

I reached through the door, unlocked it.

“Yes, yes, yes!” my wife moaned, her voice drifting through the studio. “That’s it! Oh, fuck, Mitch! Pound me!”

“Mmm, work that pussy, Dianne!” a man growled. The voice of the asshole fucking my wife.

I gripped the tire iron. The impulse to go in there and beat him to death seized me. This moment of wild rage. I could utterly destroy him but ... Then he couldn’t suffer. Then he couldn’t live in a world of despair with no hope.

I threw my tire iron down.

“Oh, my fucking god, I’m getting there!” Dianne moaned. My slut-wife’s voice tight. “Just a little more! I’m going to cum so hard on your dick!”

“That fucking whore,” growled my son.

“She’s just getting what dad can’t give her,” Garnet said.

“She’s being a whore,” I snarled. “She’s worse than you, Garnet. She’s the reason you’re a slut and not a good girl. Luckily, you’ll just be my slut, and won’t fuck every asshole you meet.”

My thoughts prickled.

Flesh slapped flesh. Hard and fast. It came from an open door that spilled light into the dark studio. Figures moved in there, shifting shadows. My wife gasped and panted. Her moans echoed through the studio, coming closer and closer to her orgasm.

I marched across the room, stamping on the padded mat covering the floor, my children following.

I reached the door. My wife was bent over a desk, her fake tits out, bouncing as the younger man fucked her. He was in his mid-twenties, fit and tan, blond like me, his body muscular. His arms flexed as he gripped her flesh. He grunted, thrusting hard and fast into her, his chiseled face twisted in pleasure as he plowed into my wife.

My rage boiled through me.

Then my wife noticed me. “Willis!” she screeched, her back straightening, her hands darting to cover those large, firm breasts I bought her. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

“Holy shit!” gasped Mitch, jumping back, his cock ripping out of my wife’s pussy, drenched in her cream. “Listen, dude, this isn’t ... I mean...”

“Oh, don’t freak out,” my wife said, straightening, her brown eyes flaring as she covered her tits. “He’s a spineless—”

“Shut up, Dianne!” I growled. “Kneel, uncover your tits, and wait until I’m ready for you, whore!” My thoughts blazed with pain. My wife shuddered as though my words struck her while darkness washed across my thoughts. She ripped her hands away from her tits and fell to the ground. They bounced and jiggled, round from her silicone implants.

Her eyes widened. Her flushed cheeks went pale. Her lips twitched like she wanted to speak. Which only made her squirm. She struggled, her body twitching. She rocked from side to side, a whimpering moan rising in her throat, a fearful growl. Panic crossed her eyes as she realized her body betrayed her.

“Now listen, man,” the guy said. He held up his hands before him. A band of gold encircled his left hand.

Rage flashed through me.

“You are a fucking piece of shit!” I snarled at him. “A fucking pathetic, loser of a man! You’re fucking my wife when you have one at home?” I caught a glimpse of a picture, his arm around a pretty, black-haired woman, young like him, her face round, her body looking fit in a bikini, breasts round and firm, stomach flat.