Chapter 10: Part I: Into a Routine

The next morning, Candice and I showered together again, which allowed us to rinse away that sex smell. Kelly joined us to wash and dry Candice's luxurious hair -- and to ask me to anally penetrate her. Not fuck her, not come -- just fill her back door and let her get used to the feeling.

And what a feeling. I started tweaking her soapy nipples and she came anyway -- as always.

The girls all ate breakfast topless or in their school bras, now, doing whatever was convenient. Mom, who had dutifully blown me even as a sleepy Candice watched, was now following a workout routine set up by Mary Ann, and was looking and feeling great. Dad, of course, was getting even more than me between home and the Hill twins at work.

"How you holding up, Dad?" I asked.

"Viagra is a great thing," he replied. "If it's good enough for Hef, it's good enough for me."

The twins had opted for their tightest jeans with no panties, having learned that, until their boobs reached maturity, having a world-class ass was something to flaunt. We were just getting ready to leave together when Mom said, "Kelly is taking you girls to school today. You, too, Candice. Michael, sit tight. Your dad and I need to talk to you."

I sat and read the paper as mom sent everyone on their way with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that has become our family's standard sign of affection. Kelly and Marie, who were wearing some lip gloss, settled for a porno-style tongue kiss. Yeah, I was horny.

Mom came up behind me and ran a fingernail along my neck. Her fingers moved down my shirt to my zipper, and she slowly lowered my fly and tugged open my belt. In the moment, I had my nose stuck in the paper.

Wearing perfume and high heels, she locked her eyes with mine as she lowered herself onto me. I even after withholding any real action with Marie, I was already pretty much spent for the morning. I was able to become just erect enough to fit comfortably in mom's pink, shaved pussy. It felt good. It felt ... right.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, we need to talk," she said.

"Where's dad?" I asked.

"No dad. Just me," she replied, staring right through me.

"Okay. Talk," I said, trying to raise my mast again. But it wasn't happening. Oh, well, that meant I had to listen.

"Michael, I realize that you've turned me into some kind of sex-crazed woman who enjoys incest, and I don't know why," she said as her eyes bore in on me. "A sane person would hate you for disrupting their life, but all I can say is, 'Thank you.'"

Mom planted a very un-motherly kiss on me, which I returned.

"You've the reason why I did this," I told her. "Since I was old enough to have an erection, I fantasized about you like this."

"And you have me like this," she said. "A blowjob every morning -- and you know that means every morning, right? I have no choice."

"I'm sorry," I said, almost meaning it.

"Bullshit, son," she snapped, doing something with her pelvic muscles to emphasize it. "I mean, I love it. But what about a year from now? Five years? Twenty years, for God's sake? I'm going to have to fellate you or go crazy. What if we're separated, even for a weekend?"

"Gee, Mom, I didn't think..." I sputtered.

"No, you did think," she said. "You made me your sex slave, so that means that you have very specific feelings about me, and it means you don't care how I feel or what I think."

"But I do," I said, tensing up. "I wanted you to be willing and able to run this house, to be in charge of all the stuff mothers do normally. But if you're worried about your programming, I promise to stay at home, live at home, until we resolve this."

"There is a way," she said.

"What?" I asked, hopefully.

"You can give me the last vial, reprogram me," she said with the slightest pussy clinch.

"Ahg. Uh, no, not gonna do that," I said. "I love you, but I'd rather keep you in my harem. Nice try, but get off my dick and clean off the breakfast dishes, bitch."

"Yes, master," she said, settling the issue. As she dutifully loaded the dishwasher, I happened to notice my dad standing in the doorway, arms folded. We made eye contact and he nodded very slightly.

"Can you take me to school? This little meeting has me running late," I said.

"Get dressed," he said, as he watched mom's firm ass while she continued the cleanup.

Nothing much was said as we made the short drive to school. But dad broke the ice.

"How long have you known I was cheating on your mom with Morgan?" Mitchell asked, looking straight ahead.

"I didn't – until the other Saturday," I said truthfully.

"Really? But you acted as if it were nothing special," he said, now making sidelong eye contact. "I mean, I know it doesn't matter now, but..."

"Dad, I assume that everybody cheats," I sighed. "Even you, even mom."

"Mom's cheated on me?" he seemed surprised. "With who?"

"Maybe I've said too much," I said, ending the conversation as we pulled up in front of the school. "Like you said, it doesn't matter now."

"You're right," he nodded. "Hey Mike – I love you, son. Know that."

"Yeah," I smiled as I closed the door. But as he drove off, I considered what other repercussions I might have caused. Candice as my life partner -- fine, cool. Mickey as a lifetime bud with no inhibitions and benefits -- perfect. Sex with my sisters? Whenever? Yeah, especially bringing Kelly back to life. And Ms. G -- a perfect addition. And that leaves -- what?

One more vial.

As I started up the steps of the schoolhouse, I saw my new-yet-devoted girl friend, Candice, waiting for me with a smile that could cure all ills. She did a quick sideways turn to show, indeed, she was not wearing a bra under her snug sweater. I cupped a boob as she kissed me on the cheek, drawing a gasp and a smile from the most beautiful girl in the school.

"Have a good day, sweetheart," I said, surprising myself.

"I might have some news later. See you at lunch?" she asked hopefully.

"Count on it," I said. Ah, the small talk of the normal, everyday relationship...

But, I have to admit, I was walking the halls like a predator, looking for my last subject. So many choices -- tall, short, skinny, busty, virgins, teachers, even MILFs.

I was about to commit to diluting the compound to acquire every girl in second period p.e. when Candice rushed up to me, waving a flier.

"Your next target -- the Miss Sunny Tropic contest!" she exclaimed. "I just got an entry form and just about every choice piece and hot body in Daytown will be there. The finals will be more than 40 girls!"

Oh, shit. She must be seeing things through my eyes like I can see through hers.

"Don't you have to win a preliminary pageant first?" I asked.

Candice actually became angry for the first time since we met.

"Did you forget who you're talking to?" Miss Teen Daytown asked, eyebrow cocked. "Preliminaries? Are you kidding?"

"No, but I was being stupid," I said, taking her by the arm and kissing her cheek.

"I will have avoid any more of your parties," she said. "They drug test the finalists."

"What? To make sure you're using something?" I joked. She smacked my arm, but then kissed me right there in the hallway. By the end of the week, our relationship would be universally known. Not understood – but known.

While my science teacher droned on about zygotes, I discretely looked at the flier Candice gave me. While Sunny Tropic generally encouraged adult contestants, the bottom end of eligibility was 16. There would be bikini and evening wear competition; the usual stuff – except for a two-week cruise for the winner "and a friend." Plus, the 12 finalists would all be featured in next year's calendar. So Candice (and Mickey) joined a group of around five cheerleaders taking aim at the $5,000 cash prize.

I wanted Mickey to enter; it would be her first contest, and the bikini competition alone meant that Candice would have a real rival -- that, and the dozen or so size queens whose implants went against nature.

"Wonder how far we can spread the last vial?" I wondered aloud at lunch. Candice shook her head, understanding the problem but offering no opinion. My mind was still on the same subject at the dinner table as I was thinking how my harem stacked up against those leathery, tattooed bikini queens.

"How much pussy do you need?" my father asked as he passed the chicken parm. As a man getting more than any three men, it was odd he bring that up. But it was a valid question. Could I make this into something more than a teenage fixation?

So I e-mailed Mr. Smith. Surprisingly, he called me the following evening.

"Great shit. Thanks," he said by means of introduction. "Has really helped my nausea."

I doubted that he was anywhere close to sick, but whatever.

"To answer your question," he continued. "One vial can affect a larger number, but only for a very short time. The good news is that I can get you more. The price, unfortunately, would be double. Double to me, double to you."

This time, money was not a problem. Dad cashed a check, I met my connection and I had four one-pound loaves of Mexican Finest in hand. Instead of an alley, I invited Mr. Smith over to my house, where Mom offered to blow him. Mr. Smith declined, but asked if Dad might be game.

So Mitchell Wright boldly went where he'd never gone before, while Mom went crazy watching and fucked me in her and Dad's bed for the first time. Still irritated at her ploy from earlier in the week, I topped our our session with an anal coupling. Dad was too large to have tried it, but I lubed up and fit it in nicely. While I had her in that position, I thought it might be a good time to clear the air.

"I told Dad you've cheated on him," I said with a thrust for punctuation.

"Michael! How did you know? What did he say?" she asked from below.

"I said it didn't matter and it doesn't matter now," I replied with two more thrusts for emphasis. "He didn't say much of anything."

"I can explain," she insisted. "He was an old friend from my college days. But how could you have known? He never came here."

"Mom, I didn't know," I said reaching under her to insert three fingers into her accommodating pussy "I was bullshitting."

"Oh," she almost sounded disappointed. "But it doesn't matter now."

Right.

The next morning, Dad was in an odd frame of mind. As I would be, frankly.

"How'd it taste, sweetheart?" Mom asked as he frowned over his toast and coffee.

"Not as bad as I would have thought," Mitchell replied. "I'd tasted my own, plenty, when I kissed Morgan after oral sex."

No secrets in this house, I thought.

"I used to swallow it by the quart in college," Mom explained. "I would sleep with it in my hair. I love cum."

Thus motivated, Dad and I looked at each other, and immediately unzipped. We both jerked off on Mom, who promised to wear our cream pie all day – but Mary Ann spoiled our fun by arriving shortly thereafter and licking her clean.

PART TWO: THE CONTEST

All the sex at my age and largely giving up dope had served to make my body a virtual cum producing machine. I now had more stamina, I came back quicker and my production was way up. I enjoyed going through the day with an obvious erection, because the whole school now knew I was being serviced like a porn star by the new, improved Candice. Still, I walked the halls looking for someone I did not yet own.

And the day after Candice told me about the Sunny Tropic contest, I found her.

At first, I thought Lauren Townsend was a classmate of the twins -- a freshman, since she was so tiny (under five feet tall, cute as a button). But Candice informed me that the diminutive cheerleader was in fact a junior who'd just turned 17.

Sure! I recognized her at that point. She looked very different cheering that just walking around school. In regular clothes, she wore her hair down and often wore a cute set of granny glasses. When in uniform, her was either pinned down or pulled back into a ponytail and her makeup was quite colorful.

But there was no mistaking her little, lithe body. That day, to amuse myself I stayed after school to watch the cheerleaders practice and I was shown the light.

Lauren was, like Mickey, one of the girls who was thrown and flipped like a rag doll, fearless as she pulled off aerial moves with seeming ease. She was also the tiniest, so she was often front and center for the most flashy moves. A gymnast and ballet dancer her entire life. she had sculpted legs, an ass and abs that were firm as steel. She was another who relied on sports bras to hold down her assets, as they were too large for most gymnasts her size and would be problematic for playing any child parts in ballet productions. So Lauren's problem was she was pretty much all grown up but in a child's body.

I had an answer.

"Hey, you're Lauren Townsend, right?" I asked as we had a "chance encounter" in the hallway the following day.

"Who the fuck is asking?" she fired back, stopping me cold. "Stoner boy?"

"Do you always talk like a sailor on shore leave?" I replied, aroused to be sure.

"Fuck off. And I mean now," the tiny girl said, turning away.

So she had issues. Good.

I persisted, catching up to her in the hallway.

"Didn't mean to intrude, but my girlfriend Candice and I were talking and we both thought it would be great to see you in the Miss Sunny Tropic contest," I said hurriedly as she walked away.

She stopped.

"First, you and Candice together is a fucking joke. There's no way Miss Priss settles for you," she said, pointing for emphasis. "Most of cheerleaders figure she's into dope and you're either her connection or you're pimping her out.

"As for that stupid contest, there's no way in hell my parents would let me," she said, looking up at me with a glare. "I'm their 'little girl', don't you know? That's a big girl contest."

"Fuck your parents. You're fucking awesome. Do it for yourself," I said. The look on her face told me I had a winner. She likely wasn't used to having someone -- some guy, at least -- talk to her as an adult. "If you enter, I promise I'll root for you."

"And not Candice?" she asked, astutely.

"Candice doesn't need me rooting for her; she's a God damn force of nature in these things. But you do. You would," I corrected myself.

Lauren smiled for the first time, but said nothing and walked away. Oh my God, what an ass. And perfectly sculpted hips. And legs, short but just the right proportion. Watching Lauren get thrown around like a rag doll, graceful yet spectacular, I could imagine her in bed. Candice was a thrower, Marie a catcher like Kelly before her. And Marie, Mickey and Candice, along with Mary Meyer, Holly Young and (now) Lauren were going to compete in this contest.

Thanks to my deal with Smith, I now had six vials. He estimated that four of them, strategically mixed into, say a punch bowl, would subject any number of people under 100 or so into permanent influence for (maybe) 10 minutes.

First, the others (not Candice!) had to get past one of the preliminary contests. But many of those women were the leathery, tattooed types I joked about at first -- women who would have been contenders 10, 15 years ago. One of the cheerleaders I barely knew failed to advance because of some inappropriate modesty, but her obvious weight problem wound up being an obvious pregnancy. But among those in the finals were Candice, Mickey, Lauren, Mary, Holly, Kelly (in her comeback!) and, in a real kick, Mary Ann (her comeback).

None of them (except Mary, Holly and Lauren) would be drinking the punch -- literally -- during the big pre-pageant party and banquet. In fact, four of my ladies each each dumped a vial into the brew just as the ceremony began. Each rushed around the room, exclaiming, "Have you tried the punch? Ohmigod!"

In less than 15 minutes, we had 100 percent coverage; the room fell silent shortly thereafter -- an eerie thing, but damned arousing. First, my parents quickly ushered all the men and older women (no kids here) out of the room and into a quiet, unused, banquet room to sit quietly in the dark while I did my thing.

Dressed in my dad's tux, I took the mike. No one was left in the room but the candidates themselves. The floor was mine.

"My name is Michael Wright. You will know my voice as that of your master, and anything I say to you will be absolute," I began, reading from a carefully prepared script. I quickly read the roll call of contestants (minus my harem) to open their programming.

"If you heard your name, you will willingly have sex with Michael Wright at any time he requests and consider it the most normal thing in the world. You will enjoy going braless in public, topless when requested and will sleep and pose willingly in the nude. You love being seen naked by men. You enjoy having your braless breasts fondled and you enjoy it when a man or woman grabs or rubs your crotch -- but you cannot ever express that, just enjoy it passively. You also love the taste of pussy, and you especially love other Sunny Tropic girls' pussies, almost more than you love giving head and swallowing cum. Over the next two days, you will have sex with as many of your fellow contestants as possible. But you will still treat the contest as a competition and will try to win even though you will be horny beyond words."

Then I had an afterthought.

"You will work to maintain your body and you will work hard to achieve your dream goals in life. You will be a success on your own terms."

And then I set down the mike and sought out Lauren Townsend, who was sitting among other Carson cheerleaders. I leaned in close to the tiny beauty's ear. What I said next was just for her.

"Lauren Townsend, you will become a sex slave for the Wright family and our close friends and be overjoyed to be one of us. Your anger at your size will be set aside, knowing that it is the reason you were chosen. You love your body and show it off any way you can."