Chapter 4: Wife’s Incestuous Game

Dean Michaels

I pulled my SUV into the garage a changed man.

It worked!

My mind-control device worked. I had used it at the park, controlling hundreds of people. Most I just made disinterested. They didn’t care what was going on while I had my perverted fun. Receiving a blowjob from a beautiful woman while watching a pair of twins stripping, then fucking said twins and taking both their cherries, before ending up with a threesome with the blowjob woman and her teenage daughter.

It was incredible to enjoy girls the ages of my daughters. I craved to fuck both of my daughters. To share their flesh with my wife. It wasn’t a fantasy I could ever reveal to Kimmie. My wife was a bit of a kink in the bed, a playful and flirty woman, but she wasn’t that naughty.

If she ever thought I really wanted to fuck our daughters...

I grabbed the gallon of milk off the floor before the passenger seat and threw open my door, glancing at the device. The laptop was closed, disconnected from the nearly dead device. It was a modified pair of speakers, the kind you could dock your phone to. It put out a broadcast signal that controlled people’s mind. Ultrahigh frequency sounds that you couldn’t hear but that still affected your brain. It was quite versatile. I was a tinker. An engineer. I built it over the last year.

It worked. Twice.

I left it in the car. I’d have to sneak it out. I didn’t want my wife wondering why I’d brought my laptop with me given my cover story. I swallowed and then I headed out of the garage and into the house.

My wife was in the kitchen working on dinner. She glanced up from the stove where she was frying breaded chicken. It sizzled on the oil. Kimmie flashed me a smile. She was a petite woman, easily mistaken for someone younger than thirty-nine. When we first met, she was often mistaken for a schoolgirl. Her green eyes sparkled while freckles danced around her cheeks. She wore her red hair held back by a kerchief tied around her head.

“Fish biting?” she asked me.

“Naw,” I said and held up the milk. “Just some relaxing.”

“Perfect timing,” she said. “Thank you, honey.”

I smiled at her, feeling a twinge of guilt. I’d never cheated on her until today. I’d had sex with several teenagers and that sexy woman. I opened the fridge and threw it in before heading over to her and giving her a quick kiss on the lips, my hand sliding down her back to rest on her jeans-clad ass.

“Miss me?” she asked, giving me a glance. “If your daughter sees you grabbing my ass, she—”

“Daddy!” squealed said daughter.

June darted in. My baby girl, fourteen and even smaller than her mother, darted up. Her brown hair, gathered in a pair of adorable pigtails, flew behind her as she rushed at me. I pulled my hand from her mother’s ass moments before my youngest threw her arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I felt June’s nubile body pressed tight against me. The soft swell of tits that made my dick harden. Especially now that I’d enjoyed those two fourteen-year-old twins, not to mention that virgin at the grocery store while I was milk shopping.

“Did you catch any big fish?” she asked, bouncing up and down.”

“You’re not getting out of fried chicken for dinner,” Kimmie said.

“Sorry, Junebug, you’re old man struck out,” I lied, my cock swelling towards its full girth. She sighed and gave me an annoyed look. “I was counting on you, Daddy! Now we have to

eat chicken!”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I promised her. Tonight, once I had the mind-control device smuggled out of the garage and back in my basement workshop, I’d love her. It would be beautiful. I just needed to plug the device into the house’s power. Then the battery wouldn’t run out.

Of course, there was the problem of the house’s power. I wanted to have a permanent device in the house, one that was always broadcasting. Always making sure that my family was modified to my perverted delights.

They’d be happy. I’d see to it.

“And where is our eldest?” I asked my wife as June still clung to me.

Kimmie glanced at me then her eyes flicked to our daughter. “Honey, let your father breathe. You have no idea what you’re doing to him.”

“He’s breathing fine,” June muttered and broke away, her cheeks scarlet.

“Mmm, he is, but...” Kimmie’s eyes darted down to my crotch then back up. My cheeks warmed as her smile turned naughty. “He’s an old man. You have to be delicate.”

“Daddy’s not old,” June said. “Well, not that old.”

“No, he’s not,” Kimmie said, amusement in her tone.

June leaned against the fridge while my wife went back to the chicken. She turned them over. It looked like we were having dinner soon. “Junebug, go set the table.”

“Sure, Daddy,” she said and darted for the shelf with the plates. She opened it and grabbed out a stack and darted for the next room.

“Did our daughter get you hard?” asked Kimmie. “When she hugged you tight.”

“No,” I said, not looking at her. “Squeezing your ass did that.”

Her smile grew pleased. “You’re a bad liar. Do I need to dress up like a schoolgirl again to keep you from sneaking down the halls.”

I stared at my wife with panic.

She burst into laughter. “Oh, god, Dean, you look like a deer in headlights. I know you wouldn’t do that. But you can’t help it that June’s growing up. She might develop a body, unlike your flat-chested wife.”

“You have nice boobs,” I said.

“Nice?”

“Amazing boobs,” I said, pressing in behind her and rubbing my cock into her ass. My hands went around her, sliding up to—

June burst back in and darted to the silverware drawer. I froze as she wrenched it opened and pulled out the cutlery. Then she darted back to the dining room without saying a word. My heart pounded as I broke away from my wife.

“Why did we have kids again?” my wife asked.

“Because you wanted bigger boobs?”

She shot me a pointed look, her spatula moving across the frying pan.

I just gave her an innocent smile. “Speaking of kids, where is Dusk.”

Dusk was our eldest. It wasn’t her real name, which was Eve. Eve became Evening became Dusk. She was seventeen and way past that “daddy’s little girl” phase in her life that June still miraculously possessed. Dusk had all the moodiness of a hormonal teenage girl.

“She’s having dinner at the neighbor’s house.”

“Oh?” I struggled to think who that might be. Her friend on the block had moved away two years ago. “Who?”

“The Reynolds. She’s sweet on their son.”

“That little punk,” I growled, my mood souring. “I don’t trust that boy.”

“Brett’s harmless,” my wife said.

“I know eighteen-year-old boys. That’s not a term to describe them.”

My wife shrugged. “She’s seventeen. She can’t stay your little girl forever.”

She absolutely could. I had to do something about this. The pressure on, my mind leaped into action. I marched out into the garage, saying, “I need to get something for my workshop.”

“Don’t start tinkering. Dinner’s five minutes away!”

I stepped into the garage. My gaze darted around and I spotted an old duffel bag atop a box. I ripped it out and opened the passenger door of my car. I pressed the laptop and mind-control device into there and zipped it up.

I hefted it with care, not wanting to shift them around and break them. I marched out of the garage. My wife hardly glanced at me. She was checking on something in the oven. I caught a whiff of cheese and potatoes. Potatoes au gratin to go with the chicken.

I swept past her. In the living room, my daughter was stretched across the couch watching one of those Disney channel teen shows. I frowned at the sight of a girl getting ketchup dumped on her feet while she squealed in disgust. Her bare toes flexed before the camera.

What the fuck was that?

I vanished down the stairs into the basement and headed for my workstation. My Dusk couldn’t be over that Reynolds boy. He was a punk. He once knocked off my mailbox, and half the streets, with his baseball bat when he was ten or so. He’d broken the Millers’ window while hitting baseballs with the same bat, set off fireworks that scared the Donaldsons’ cat so bad it never went outdoors again. And now my daughter was sweet on him?

I opened my laptop after plugging both devices into their power supplies. I ran the program on the computer that controlled the mind-control device. I waited for it to load. Once it did, it showed a Google map image once the GPS identified where we were. Then it started populating it with dots, each one with a unique, six-digit hexadecimal code. They were people, picked up by the electric rhythm of their hearts.

Three dots appeared at my house. Then they started appearing in the neighbors. Some were out in their lawns, others in their houses. One dot seemed to drift down the street and vanished out of range: two hundred yards.

The Reynolds house was in that sphere. One dot appeared.

Just one? I thought she was having dinner there and...

One dot, but there were two hexadecimal codes. G554ED and B30428. They were on top of each other. So close, the GPS couldn’t place them discreetly apart. My stomach sank as I tried not to imagine why they were so close together.

“Fuck,” I muttered. My forehead broke out in a sweat. My stomach curdled. I had to think. I had to act quickly. I had no idea which one of the tags was my daughter and which one was the bastard doing god knew what to my little girl.

Kissing her ... Groping her ... Doing...

“Fuck!” I snarled.

What sort of command could I give? I needed my daughter back here, but without knowing which dot was hers, how could I type that command into the device. I needed to do an experiment, a test to figure...

No, I didn’t. I just had to give them both a simple command.

I began typing: B30428, G554ED; head to your home’s kitchen, open the refrigerator, and pull out a beverage.

I hit enter.

Eve “Dusk” Michael

I kissed Brett with hunger, pinned down on his couch. His tongue danced through my mouth. I shuddered, the shaggy-hair boy so cute. I’d noticed him since we were kids, but I had never attracted his attention until a few days. My hands ran over his back, feeling his strength. He’d gotten buff the last few years, and rebellious.

I loved those ear expanders.

His hand slipped up beneath my blouse. My heart fluttered at his touch. He went higher and higher, caressing my skin. This was it. Tonight, I was going to lose my virginity. He cupped my breast through my bra. He squeezed and kneaded my tit. My nipple throbbed.

Delightful tingles raced down to my pussy. I groaned as his tongue danced through my mouth. He pinched my nipple through my bra. I whimpered and squirmed beneath him, loving his weight atop me. That was sexy. I didn’t know why, but it felt so right having a guy atop me and...

I needed to get a drink.

Brett ripped his lips off of me. “Damn, I’m thirsty. You thirsty?”

“Yeah,” I said. I had to get home and get a drink out of the fridge. “Real thirsty.”

He pulled his hand from beneath my blouse and rolled off of me. He stood up and headed for the kitchen. I shuddered then kicked off the couch. I really needed to get home and get that drink. It was only a few houses away. I looked around and spotted my jeans on the floor.

I couldn’t go out in my panties. I grabbed them and pulled them on. The fridge in his kitchen creaked open. “Want a beer. My old man won’t notice. He’s got so many in here.”

“No,” I said. “I have to get a diet coke. We got them at my house.”

“Your house?”

I had my jeans on and headed for the door where my shoes awaited. He appeared and cracked open a can of Miller Lite. It hissed and frothed. He sipped at it as he stared at me. I reached the door and slipped into my flats.

“Wait, are you really leaving to get a diet coke?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, shoes on. I opened the door.

He hurried across the living room and grabbed my arm as I stepped outside. “You can’t leave. Things were just getting good.”

“But I have to get home and get a drink,” I whimpered, feeling it in my mind. “Let go, Brett.”

“No, I got a diet coke in the fridge. Come on.”

He pulled me into the house. I couldn’t have that. A wild panic shot through me. My hand flew out and cracked into the side of his cheek. He flinched back in shock, his brown hair swaying. He let go of me, this look of hurt shock on his face.

“Sorry!” I shouted and then darted out the door at a full run.

I darted down the street, confused why I needed a drink from my house when there was a good diet coke back at his house. I could drink it. We could get down and have fun with each other. I was looking forward to losing my cherry to him and...

And...

Why did I want to lose my cherry to him? He was such a boring guy. No, not a guy, he was a boy. So young. I should have a man. That was who I should want. That thought rippled through me as I ran past the Millers house and then the Murphys. Then I was running up the driveway to my house. I swept to the front door, burst inside, and headed straight for the kitchen.

“Dusk?” Mom said as I entered. She was setting fried chicken onto a platter. “I thought you were having dinner with the Reynolds.”

“That got boring,” I said, panting from my run. “Made some extra for me?”

“I always make too much, honey,” she said, smiling.

“Good.” I opened the fridge and pulled out a diet coke. I cracked the can and took a sip. I sighed in relief. It felt good to satisfy that little itch in my mind. I closed it and then smiled when Dad emerged into the kitchen.

“Perfect timing,” Mom said. “I was afraid I would have to drag you from the basement. And look who came home.”

“Guess we know who the better cook is between you and Mrs. Reynolds,” Dad said.

“Yeah,” I said, flushing slightly. I didn’t precisely tell Mom that Brett’s parents wouldn’t be home, but I didn’t contradict her when she assumed that. “Definitely Mom. Smells great.”

On an impulse, I darted to Dad and kissed him on the cheek.

Dean Michaels

I smiled as my eldest daughter broke away, her strawberry-blonde hair swaying about her face. She wore a tight baby doll t-shirt that hugged the round curves of her body. She took after my side of the family, her face similar to my sister’s, but she had my wife’s green eyes. The glasses she wore gave her this naughty schoolgirl quality.

The type who could study all night and learn so much.

Of course, she wasn’t that great of a student, but she did look cute with her glasses on.

My wife shoved the casserole dish at me, the cheesy smell filling my mouth and making me hungry. Then I headed to the dining room. The TV in the living room turned off and June appeared in the dining room as I entered.

We sat down to eat, saying a quick grace, holding both my daughter’s hands. As I dug in, I thought about my home system. I wanted a permanent one in the house. It would be localized just to the property, the right commands to make the house perfect. I wanted to test things. To make sure that things were perfect before things got naughty.

I’d have to buy a universal power supply. A good one that could provide a few hours of backup power. And if there was a prolonged blackout, a generator. I’d been thinking of getting one. We had bad winter storms. Have a few days fuel stockpiled just in case. Then I thought about the routines I’d want to run. How I’d want everyone to behave while home. If they left the house, they’d need to forget about things. Not think about them.

That shouldn’t be hard.

What about visitors? A routine that would automatically run a script on people who came up to the house. Have them not care about certain things. Nudity. Sex. Any slips about incest. My cock throbbed all through dinner.

“That was great, honey,” I said when I finished.

“He’s going to vanish into his workshop, girls,” my wife said, amusement in her tone.

“Yep, Daddy’s got that ‘I’m going to invent thingies’ look in his eyes,” June said. “Still working on that study device so Dusk can get good grades.”

“I get fine grades,” Dusk muttered, her loose, strawberry-blonde hair falling down her head.

“They could be better,” my wife said. “You going to take this device to your school and help out your students?”

I taught high school science.

“I planned on installing one in my classroom if it works out the way I hope,” I said casually. I picked up my plate. “Girls, don’t leave a mess for your mother to clean up.”

“Okay, Daddy,” June said.

“Okay, Daddy,” mocked Dusk in a squeaky voice.

June glared at her and then stomped out carrying her plate and glasses. My wife rolled her eyes. I smiled and headed to the kitchen. June was already washing her plate. She glanced at me and offered to take my dishes. I gave her a kiss on the cheek as a reward while wanting to press up against her body and fuck her hard.

I practically fled to the basement.

Without the UPS installed, I didn’t want to trust running any heavy commands. The last thing I needed was for something to go wrong and the system to turn off in the middle of screwing my daughter and have her freak out on me. I sat down at the laptop and then something else occurred to me.

I had to disable windows updates. Those damned things would restart my laptop, and it controlled the machine. Those always came at the worst time. I took care of that, then pulled out a notepad and started working out the parameters for a new protocol.

The pigtail protocol.

Protocols were macros that set the machine to run a specific script so I didn’t have to type up all the commands. It was fairly simple: a girl would style her hair in pigtails until ready for bed, at which point they would undo them. They could also undo them to wash their hair and comb their hair. A lot of commands, but that was the point of the macro.

Female; pigtail protocol

I hit enter. Then I set about figuring out the permanent commands. This was just a test, to see how the system held up over the long term. Nothing major, but my perverted thoughts were working through my plans. How I wanted my women to dress. To act. To feel. I wanted them to enjoy this. I didn’t want to change my daughters, just shift those hormones towards their ol’ man while making sure my wife didn’t mind. She was a flirty woman.

She would make things interesting.

I had my list worked out and programmed a few more macros that I was excited to try out after the pigtail test. I smiled. After an hour of work, I stretched and headed upstairs. I heard giggles coming from the living room. I peeked in to see my daughters watching one of those teen girl dystopian films. Was it the Hunger Games or Divergent? No idea.

Both had their hair in pigtails. Dusk looked cute with her strawberry-blonde hair gathered in those twin falls of hair that splashed down on her shoulders. My dick twitched at how adorable she looked with them.

“Hey there,” said my wife as she walked by. She paused, letting me admire her red hair in pigtails. “Like?”

I grinned at her. Those made her appear even younger. Especially with that coquettish look in her eyes. She wiggled back and forth, the t-shirt she wore fitting tight to her torso, her small breasts looking nice and perky, her nipples hardening.

“Yes, I do,” I said.

She winked at me. “Don’t stay up late in your workshop.”

How could I say no to that?

I had all my work done. I tried to read a book for a bit while my daughters and wife watched the movie. I kept thinking such wicked thoughts. I wanted to just employ the device and control my daughters. To do some naughty things with them, but...

I was paranoid. Sure it worked with strangers, people who didn’t know who I was, but if anything went wrong here, I was risking my family. I didn’t want to hurt Kimmie, Dusk, or June. I wanted us to just be a loving family. I ached for it.

I could control my lusts.

My eyes kept flicking to June’s bare, coltish legs. She sat cross-legged on the couch watching the movie with delight, her brown pigtails swaying about her face. She looked so much like her mother did at that age. Cute. Precocious. Her innocence made me want to violate her.