Chapter 2

At the Correctional Home for Boys, I shared a room with five other young men. None of them understood how I could be in love with my mother and sister. I wasn’t allowed to contact Molly or Mom, which really hurt. The only thing they would tell me about our kids was that they were ‘being well cared for’, whatever that meant. I missed them all terribly.

I had counselling three times a week, but it was a big waste of time. The therapist started by telling me she understood how I would be confused and upset, because of the terrible abuse from my mother. I told her Mommy was one of the best people in the world, and she had been great to me. Mommy and Molly had only ever made me feel good. Other than tripping and hurting my knee once, the first bad thing in my life was losing my family.

The next session, the therapist gave me a long lecture about why incest was wrong and a terrible thing. To me it seemed like she had said ‘two plus three equals potato salad’ over and over. It didn’t make any sense to me, none at all.

I did some research at the library and learned incest increases the chance of offspring having genetic defects, but not as much as you might think. A child produced by a brother and sister or parent and child has a 4 percent chance of inheriting a genetically caused disease or deformity, instead of 1.5 percent for unrelated parents. I didn’t see what the big deal was.

The only time I confided in a friend enough to tell him what we had done with our kids, he was horrified and didn’t want to talk to me anymore. That evening after supper, he and a gang of five others called me terrible names as they beat me up.

After a few stitches and bandages, I spent the night in the infirmary and got new roommates the next day. I learned my lesson and mostly kept to myself. I focused on my studies, especially math and science. After I graduated high school, I started taking college classes online.

When I was released on my 21st birthday, I moved to a college dormitory to finish my degree and get my Civil Engineer’s License. I’d grown to six foot four and two hundred muscular pounds, and the ladies seemed to like my looks. In the three semesters I had left, I dated five girls. Everything went great with each for a few months. They were willing to have sex with me on our second or third date, and we had some wonderful times.

I wasn’t deeply in love with them, like I had been with Molly and Mommy, but sex was still a great thing. A cute blonde Christine wouldn’t actually fuck me, but loved doing 69. Brunettes Samantha and Kelly liked missionary sex and loved doggy style. My favorite college girlfriend was probably redheaded Jan, who enjoyed giving me blowjobs and fucking me in front of her sorority sisters. The problems happened when I started sleeping with them. I don’t mean sex, but actual sleep. In my sleep or partially awake I’d call them ‘Mommy’ or ‘Molly’ by mistake, and they’d freak out and break up with me.

A month before graduation I started dating a pretty blonde named Melissa. I called her ‘Melly’ as a nickname. She liked to call me ‘Daddy’ during sex, so it didn’t bother her if I said ‘Mommy’. ‘Melly’ and ‘Molly’ sounded close enough alike that she didn’t notice the few times I called her by my twin sister’s name. I got a good job and we were planning to marry.

One afternoon I got a very disturbing phone call. “Hello, this is DJ Jack Rock at K-slam radio. You’re on the air. What do you think of the book that just came out about your family?”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “What book?”

“The new book ‘LA Incest Cult’. Did you really start having sex with your babies the week they were born?”

I hung up on him and started to panic. I went to a bookstore and discovered our former wet nurse Maria had written a book about us! I bought a copy and started reading it in my car in the parking lot. Almost none of it was true. In addition to the small bit of facts, it said I fucked all of my kids! It explained I was able to screw them since I had a tiny cock only two inches long. It was doubly offensive, since I would never hurt them and my penis was nearly the length of my foot. Another chapter claimed Mom sacrificed animals to Satan and made us drink the blood! The book made my mother sound worse than Charlie Manson!

My girlfriend Melissa found out about it the next day and broke up with me. I got fired for ‘poor performance’, though I had only been with the company a month and was never late or made a mistake. I thought about suing Maria or the book publisher, but realized I didn’t have the money for a lawsuit and it would draw a lot of unwanted attention.

I scraped together the little money I had, changed my name legally, then got a new job when I moved from LA to Arizona.