Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven


In the week that followed their first rape of Morgan, Brea slowly helped to normalise Michael’s new life – one in which women were nothing but sextoys to be abused, degraded and raped. Even women Michael was related to.

Every morning, Brea would visit Michael’s room and bring him to orgasm using one of her holes, carefully collecting his cum once he was done. Then he would piss into her cunt, and she would collect that too, as it dribbled out of her into a bowl.

The cum and piss would form Michael’s mother’s breakfast. Veronica could barely think these days. Her mind was clouded and her cunt was constantly wet from Brea’s drugs, and she needed help to even get dressed. Brea assisted, choosing outfits that became more outrageously slutty with every passing day – and never including underwear, of course. She would docilely drink a glass of her son’s piss, and eat toast smeared with his cum, never questioning the strange flavours. Then Michael would “kiss her goodbye”, and send her off to work.

Each morning Brea gave Michael a new challenge as part of this “kissing their mother goodbye”. The kisses were always tongue kisses, of course, and Veronica was so constantly stupid and slutty that she couldn’t help but react to these sexually, eagerly kissing her son back, unaware of what she was doing, pressing her tits against his chest and moaning as her tongue intertwined with his.

On one day Brea had Michael cup his mother’s breast, and then squeeze it hard until she moaned. On another he made him tease her, leaning in for the kiss but then keeping his lips a fraction of an inch from hers, making her gasp, and chase her son’s lips, desperate for his kiss. Brea got Michael to reach beneath his mother’s skirt and cup her hairy pussy as he kissed her – and then on the next day to part her pussy lips with his fingers, and touch her clitoris.

That last made her jump, and try to pull away, and Michael had to hold her close with one arm, and whisper into her ears the words that Brea had taught him for this occasion. “Hold still, or else dad will see how you’re always cockteasing me.”

Veronica stiffened. Her confused mind would barely let her think – and yet she knew that tongue-kissing her own son was strange, and that she had been doing it for days, in front of her own husband. Had she been cockteasing him? It surely hadn’t been the other way around – her cunt had been wet long before her son touched her. She didn’t know what to do – so she held still, and let her own son kiss her and finger her pussy.

A few moments later, the humiliation, fear, and stimulation was too much, and she found herself orgasming against Michael, moaning into his mouth, shuddering in his arms. Her own son had made her cum – in public, in front of her family (even if her husband and daughter didn’t seem to have noticed). She could never go back from that. She felt like crying.

And after that it became normal for Michael to finger his mother’s pussy as he kissed her in the mornings – growing bolder each time. Not content with just stroking her clitoris, he would pinch it or pull on it. His fingers explored her fuckhole, teasing the entrance, and then pushing up inside her, fingerfucking her as he kissed her. 

And Veronica would moan, and cry, and cum from her own son’s fingers. And Michael would learn that his mother was nothing but a stupid sex-toy that he could molest for fun.

Michael’s father wasn’t objecting to all this because he had become Brea’s personal project. On the morning after Brea and Michael had first raped Morgan, Brea had waited until she heard her father Evan in shower, and then – completely naked – she had swiftly slipped into the shower with him.

Evan had opened his mouth to protest, but Brea had just tongue-kissed him, pushing her naked body up against her father, taking his cock in her hand and massaging it to erectness, and then whispering, “Sssh, or mom will hear us.”

To his credit, Evan had wanted to stop her, and tell Brea to get out of the shower. Being naked with his daughter was wrong. Kissing her and letting her stroke his cock was worse. But he didn’t know how he could explain this to his wife, and the longer he struggled to think of a course of action, the worse it got, as his daughter crushed her wet tits against his chest and coerced his cock to stiffen in her skilled hands.

And so he just let it happen. He kissed his daughter, and let her grind her wet, nubile body against him. She began to pump his erect cock, masturbating her father, and he just moaned into her mouth and enjoyed it.

And just as he was about to cum, she pulled away, flashing him a teasing smile, and fled the shower, pausing only to grab a towel.

By the time Evan had left the shower himself, and dressed, he wasn’t thinking clearly. His cock was still rock hard, and what he wanted to do was forget about going to work, and masturbate to a powerful orgasm while picturing his naked daughter. But he couldn’t – and it was wrong – and yet his mind was still clouded with a haze of lust.

When he discovered his daughter was still completely nude – right there in the kitchen, in front of her own mother – his cock twitched. He opened his mouth to say something – but Brea was skipping over to him, wrapping an arm around him in a hug, and using her other hand to discreetly reach below his waist and massage his erect cock through his work pants.

“Please don’t tell me to wear clothes,” she whispered in his ear. “Or else I’ll tell mom what we did in the shower.”

Evan looked across at his wife. Veronica was only barely dressed, and certainly not in a way that Evan would have called “work appropriate”. She was drinking a glass of yellow liquid, and eating toast with an unidentifiable spread scraped across it. Her eyes were glazed, and she didn’t even seem to realise that her daughter was naked.

This was becoming more and more normal for Evan’s wife these days. She seemed stupider and less aware with every passing day. He knew it should worry him – but there had been compensations. Veronica was so horny now – all the time. Each night she actively begged him for his cock, and didn’t seem to care which hole he put it in, as long as he let her masturbate herself to orgasm. 

He had been able to talk her into sex acts that she had never allowed him to do with her before. When he grabbed her tits and squeezed them – hard enough to hurt, in a way that she had previously always hated – now she just moaned and begged for more. Last night she had told him he could slap her across the face, if only he would just fuck her, and he had discovered that hitting his wife made his cock harder than he could have imagined. He had called her a slut and a whore and a bitch, and she had responded as if it were the name she was born with. Fucking his wife felt less and less like making love to a life partner, and more and more like raping a nymphomaniac, and he loved it.

But even so, surely Veronica would disapprove of him having a sexual encounter with his daughter. So he said nothing, and let Brea wander around the house naked, and after that he became used to seeing his daughter’s bare tits and pussy in family settings.

She returned to his shower the next day, kissing him, rubbing his cock. She was clear about what she wanted from him. 

“If you want to cum,” she whispered in his ear, “you have to rape me. I want you to rape me. If you want to cum, you have to force me.”

She brought him to the edge of orgasm again – and then took her hands away, stepping back and biting her lip in a flirty manner.

“Now slap me,” she said, “or else I’ll tell mom.”

He looked at her in disbelief. All he wanted was for her to put her hands back on his cock, and make him cum.

“I’m serious,” she said.

He remembered how good slapping Veronica had felt – and here was his naked, slutty daughter, asking for the same thing.

He reached out and slapped her across the face. “Slut,” he heard himself growl.

The look on her face was pure bliss and love. “Thank you, daddy,” she breathed – and left the shower, leaving him rock-hard and unsatisfied.

That evening, she surprised him when he went to the toilet. He had gone into the bathroom, to use the toilet located there, and Brea had slipped in behind him.

“The bathroom is occupied, Brea,” he said.

“That’s okay,” she said. He was standing in front of the toilet, with his cock aimed at the bowl, and Brea moved to kneel – naked – next to the toilet. “I’ll wait for my turn.”

“Brea, you can’t!” hissed Evan.

But Brea only gave her standard response. “Be quiet, or mom will hear.”

There was nothing for it. He couldn’t argue with her, for fear of being overheard. He couldn’t bodily throw her out of the room, for the same reason.

So he relaxed his bladder, and began to piss – and as soon as he did, his daughter rose up on her knees, leaned forward, and took the tip of his cock into her mouth. 

His cock was in his own daughter’s mouth. He was *pissing* into his own daughter’s mouth.

He reacted instinctively. He slapped Brea across the face, and pushed her away.

It only seemed to make her happy. She giggled. “It’s okay, dad,” she said. “It’s what woman are for. I learned this in college. Just let it happen.” She rose to her knees, and moved back towards his cock. 

He slapped her again – but he feared further blows would draw attention to something strange happening in the bathroom. And when she leaned forward again, he let it happen. His daughter’s lips slipped over the tip of his cock, and she looked up at him, expectant.

He felt his cock stiffening in his daughter’s mouth. It made it hard to piss. But he couldn’t stay in here forever – someone would wonder where he and Brea had vanished to. So he relaxed his mind, relaxed his bladder, tried to pretend his cock wasn’t in his daughter’s mouth, and let himself piss.

Brea swallowed every drop – eagerly, submissively. She was the perfect toilet. And he couldn’t deny that pissing into a woman’s mouth was a far superior experience to every way he had ever pissed in the past. He looked down into his daughter’s loving eyes, and tried to deal with the guilt he felt.

As it turned out, dealing with the guilt was as easy as pushing it onto Brea. After all, this was her fault. She was being a cockteasing whore who seduced her own father. The only guilt was hers. Really, he should slap her more often.

And then she began to actually *suck* his cock, and it stiffened more, and soon he was moaning as his daughter gave him an expert blowjoob. And as his orgasm approached, he realised what was going to happen – Brea would pull away, and leave him once again with blue balls.

So he grabbed her hair with both hands, just as a precaution.

As soon as he grabbed her, she started to struggle, trying to pull away from his cock. But it felt so good, having her there. He tightened his grip, and held her tight against his groin, and then began to buck his hips against his daughter’s face.

She went wild, slapping at his legs with her hands, using her whole body to try and pull away. But he held on tight. If anything, this was hotter than when she had been willingly sucking on him. It felt amazing. 

And just like that, he was cumming, ejaculating into his daughter’s unwilling mouth.

He had raped his daughter.

The guilt came back, and as soon as Brea’s face was off his cock, he slapped her, hard, three times. “You little slut,” he spat. “What have you done?”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed – but she didn’t look sorry. She looked slutty and aroused. “I’ll never tell anyone. I deserved this. Thank you.”

He didn’t know what to say. So he just left her there, sprawled beside the toilet.

But after that, Brea would follow him to the toilet every time he went, and there was only one way to satisfy her. He became used to pissing in his daughter’s mouth. And afterwards, she would give him a blowjob. If he had self-restraint, he would let her stop before he orgasmed, and leave the toilet with an achingly hard cock. If he didn’t, he would grab her head, and force her down on his cock as she struggled, and cum down his daughter’s throat.

Likewise, he lasted two more mornings of teasing in the shower before he couldn’t help himself. On the fifth morning of being visited by Brea in the shower, at the point where she let go of his cock and stepped away, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and turned her and pushed her up against the shower wall, hard. Then he stepped forward, spread his daughter’s legs using one knee, and pushed his cock inside her wet, hairless twat.

She gasped. Her eyes widened, in a look of pure delight. And then she began to struggle, kicking and writhing, as he pumped his cock in and out of her. He wondered whether it was all an act, like her objection to being facefucked, or whether she had really thought her own father would never stick his cock in her. He didn’t care. In a mere five days, his daughter had replaced all of his fatherly affection for her with feelings of lust, guilt, disgust, and contempt. This was a little slut who drank her own father’s piss. Of course it was right for him to stick his cock into her. That was all she was good for. 

As he felt his orgasm drawing near, he began to repeatedly slap Brea across the face, not caring if he hurt her or bruised her, just knowing that this was what she deserved for cockteasing her own father this way – and loving the erotic feel of abusing her as he raped her. And when he finally reached that orgasm, and fired his semen deep into his daughter’s womb, it was the best orgasm of his life.

This time it was Evan who left the shower first, leaving his daughter to sink to the tiled floor, her father’s cum leaking from her twat.

But if he had looked down, he would have seen the look of victory on Brea’s face – the delight in knowing that she had convinced her father to treat her the way that all women deserved to be treated – and the excitement at the new possibilities for her family that this development opened up.


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