The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Monkey’s Penis

(Chapter 9)

Summary: mind control, Mf, incest, some ff

David Moreno finds things becoming surreal as a relic of antiquity collides with his everyday life. He finally figures out what is going on and tries to turn the tables. But watch out ...

See No Evil: Contains sexually explicit and politically incorrect material. If you shouldn’t be reading this, or if it might offend you, simply stop now.

Legalese: All actors and actresses are over the age of consent. Proof of age is on file. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This is all fantasy, and the actors are all professionals—do not try any of this at home.

Archiving: You are welcome to discreetly repost or archive this, just do not change it, steal from it or claim credit for it.

Author’s Rambling: This story comes in two parts, a yin swing and a yang swing—the acolyte at the beginning of the tale will tell you that this is the way of the universe.

Live well!

9. Nesting In(di)stinct

(Author’s Note: This chapter IS a little strange, crossing time and space without the usual referents or respect due. If we seem to be popping more levels than we push or mixing stories or levels, it’s because we are. What can I say? Faster-than-reality travel is indeed disconcerting and unnerving.

Also, there are two daughters involved in this chapter. Note that they are over the age of eighteen. Note that this is fantasy and not reality. If you have trouble understanding either of these points or their implications, do not read this chapter.)

“What?” Katie shook her head. A moment ago, she had been tonguing heavenly pecker nectar off Ms Moreno’s chest. Now she was in a tall glass cubicle slowly filling with water. Paul was piled naked against the side of the cubicle, pressing his face and hands against the glass, repeating, “But my love! My love!” David stood beside his mother, sporting a four foot erection, looking at Katie. “What? What did you do, David?”

David shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wished to find out the truth about you and Paul and this object. And suddenly you were in that glass box, with juices gushing out your pussy.”

Katie looked down and, sure enough, the liquid filling the container was pouring out her vagina. “I don’t understand, David.”

“I don’t either. Just tell me the truth, Katie. About you and this object.”

“Well ....”

* * *

I was doing my math homework, getting frustrated because the damn sines and cosines wouldn’t behave, when I realized I was standing on Paul’s front porch. Most bizarre. So I knocked on his door, intending to ask him how I’d gotten there.

Paul answered the door carrying that item you have in your hand there, David. He raised his brows and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I have no idea, Paul.”

“You’ve come to steal my penis, haven’t you?!” Which was a really odd thing to say.

“No, I was just doing my math homework when suddenly your front porch appeared under my feet and your door was in front of me.”

“Liar,” Paul shook the object—it later turned out to be a mummified penis—at me. “I was planning on using this later tonight on Ms Moreno, but since you’ve so kindly volunteered, I think I’ll just try it out on you first.”

He gripped the object in his fist, held it out and shut his eyes.

Suddenly, I found myself dressed like a harem girl, a thin purple veil draped in front of my mouth. And I felt like dancing. I HAD to dance. I wanted to dance to engorge hard-ons from all those that looked upon me. I gyrated into his house, and he shut the door behind me.

* * *

“I just wished for my very own harem girl, my love,” Paul pressed his sad cheek up against the glass prison that held the most important person in the world to him now.

* * *

I had no idea that I could undulate like that. Then I backed my backside up to him and jiggled my butt cheeks like jackhammered jello. Then I turned around and swayed my torso with the hypnotic curves of an inquisitive snake.

“Wh-why ... why am I doing this?” I asked him.

“Because I wish you to, you little whore. I was going to wish Ms Moreno huge extra-sensitive gazongas, but you showed up first, so now you’re my lusty little sex-wench.”

“But, Paul ...,” I whined as I undulated to the side and swayed my bosom for him.

“You oughtn’t to go where you’re not supposed to,” he said, wagging that penis at me.

So I snatched it from him.

* * *

“He wished for a harem girl when he should have wished for a slave girl,” Lydia pronounced wisely.

* * *

“Hey!” Paul complained.

“I wish Paul was MY slave. Instead of ME dancing for HIM,” I uttered brightly, and suddenly he was kneeling before me, kissing my feet, trying not to swallow any of the harem girl bells on my toes.

“Oh, this is NEAT!” I giggled.

“Please, my love, let me serve you.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Anything but that, my love. For I have sworn to another that—”

“Paul! Tell me!”

“I cannot.” I held up the mummified penis, though I still did not know that was what it was. “I wish that you had no choice but to tell me.”

Suddenly, Paul was hunched over on the floor in front of me, naked, sporting a long erection that reached up to and just inside his mouth.

“Phleath! Ghathie! Thonth!”

How bizarre!

“Take your cock out of your mouth when you talk, Paul.”

Holding onto it with both hands, Paul took his head of of his mouth. “Please,” his voice trembled, “... please ... if this thing goes off in my mouth, it will blow my brains out the back of my head!” Then he stuck the tip back in his mouth and looked up at me pathetically.

Okay. “Just tell me what’s going on, Paul.”

He took the cockhead out of his mouth again and swallowed hard. “Well ....”

* * *

It’s a penis. A marvelous, magical, mummified penis, my love.

I first learned of the artifact the day after my eighteenth birthday. My grandfather had come to visit my parents and me to celebrate my coming of age.

My mother had prepared a sumptuous feast that the four of us partook of. Afterward she brought out my birthday cake, with nine candles across top and nine candles across the bottom.

“Paulie,” my grandfather told me before we cut the first slice, “Tomorrow, I have a rare and wonderful thing to show you, a true treasure of the ages. But you’ll need to forgive me if I delay your gift until tomorrow. Tonight I need to get reacquainted with your mother.”

Mom frowned, puzzled. Then she and my father exchanged a look: perhaps the old guy is starting to lose it.

My father made a joke about her being a wife now, and no longer a daughter, and grandpa had better stop flirting with his wife. Everyone laughed and we cut into the cake.

It was delicious. My mom has always been a good cook.

“Carol,” Grandpa told my mom, “You have simply outdone yourself. But you always have been an overachiever. How can I ever thank you for such a wonderful meal?” He stood, unzipped and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles, then began removing his shirt. “Perhaps a nice juicy suck on my cock?”

Mom and Dad exchanged a wide-eyed look, aghast. The old man HAD lost his mind! HOW were they going to come up with the money to keep him in a home?!

Grandpa fished in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a stick.

“Ohmigod!” Mom gasped.

“Remember this, baby cheeks?”

“Ohmigod! I had FORGOTTEN about that thing!”

“What? What IS it, Carol?” Dad asked, bewildered by her behavior.

“Get OUT! Get that thing OUT of my house NOW! And you too, you evil old man! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“Carol,” Dad soothed, “Calm down. Don’t get so—”

“Shut UP, James! I want that thing OUT of my house!” Mom was shrieking hysterically.

“She’ll be okay in a minute, James,” Grandpa told my Dad, holding the stick out. “By the way, James, have you ever considered what motivates a cross-dresser?”

“Hungh? I ... well ... hmmm. I guess that he needs to ... I ... I’ll ... be right back.

“You do that, James.”

“JAMES! Don’t LEAVE me!” Mom shrieked as Dad walked out of the kitchen.

Grandpa held the stick toward Mom. “Easy, punkin.”

Mom looked like she’d just been sedated.

“See?” Grandpa asked me. “She’s not REALLY so upset. She just forgot how good it feels, Didn’t you, punkin?”

“Daddy?”

Grandpa shut his eyes for a moment, concentrating, then sat down, naked. I hadn’t noticed it before, but his hard-on had to be at least eighteen inches long!

“C’m’here, sweetie-tits, and sit on Daddy’s lap.”

Slowly, shyly, Mom walked up to Grandpa and sat on his knee.

“There we go, little pussy-twat. Remember all the good times we used to have together?”

Mom smiled then and reached for Grandpa’s erection, moving it around like a stickshift while she giggled. “Yeeeaaahhhh ....”

“Hand me a piece of that cake, son,” Grandpa told me as he loosened the waist of Mom’s blouse.

I cut another slice, set it on a saucer, then turned to Grandpa. He had his hand up the front of Mom’s shirt, squeezing a boob while she sighed deeply.

“Braless,” he cackled. “You remembered how I like you!”

“Yes, Daddy,” she gave a shy smile. “I did.”

Grandpa grabbed the knob of his own rod. “Well, I remembered that you like to ride the big ones.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Mom hugged him, then started kissing his neck.

Grandpa unbuttoned Mom’s blouse and pulled it back to reveal that she really had been walking around braless tonight! I never would have imagined that of my mother!

“Thanks, Paulie,” Grandpa told me as he pinched the icing off he top of her cake slice I was holding out to him, then spread it all over Mom’s boob.

God, her nipples were poking out as she moaned and giggled!

“I’m gonna want to lick you clean later, honey cunt.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Mom giggled, laying a hand tenderly on her father’s chest.

“Sweetie, do you have any high heels for larger shoe sizes?” Dad asked as he re-entered the kitchen.

I looked up at him, and ...

Good God!

... he had on a garter belt and black hose, runs all through them where he had stretched them too wide over his thick thighs. Crimson lipstick glowed from his lips and from his ... egads! ... nipples. A purple ribbon was used to choke off the base of his penis, and clothespins angrily lined its length.

“Jack! You whoring slut! You look positively hideous,” Mom giggled.

“No,” Dad stuck his lip out to pout, then tossed his head to accent the lovely mane that he simply did not have. “I am ... beautiful. And you are ... simply jealous!”

“D’ya ever wonder,” Grandpa asked him, “How any self-respecting male could ever cum from having a high heel wriggled around inside his anus?”

Dad frowned, then wagged a finger at Grandpa. “That ... that sounds absolutely delightful!” He exited the kitchen again to Grandpa’s chuckle and Mom’s giggles.

“I’m sure this all looks strange to you right now, Paulie. But it will all make sense after I explain it to you in the morning. Tonight, though, I need to make deposits into several of your mother’s orifices.”

Giggling and smiling, Mom followed Grandpa back to the bedroom.

I walked into the den, stunned, and sat in a chair. Wow!

A few minutes later, Dad wandered out, got on his hands and knees—he had drawn red circles in lipstick around his ass to form a bullseye!—and reached behind to pump a high heel in and out of his rectum.

“Good God, Dad! Do that in PRIVATE!”

“You’re right, son.” Dad stood, walked to the closet and stepped inside. Soon there were gasping moans coming from the closet.

I walked back to listen at the bedroom door instead. I couldn’t believe that Mom was in there ... snuggling? ... french kissing? ... petting? ... fucking? ... gasping as she blew her brains out with sex? ... with Grandpa.

I could hear her screams through the door. “Ohgod, Daddy! No! Not there! ... not—... oh YES! YES! Oh FUCK!”

Wow! Mom was being SUCH a slut! I walked back to my bedroom to masturbate.

* * *

BLAM!

I had seen Paul’s pecker start to twitch, but the sheer volume of that massive cannon firing startled me. “Paul?” I looked, and there was a hole in the ceiling in the kitchen corner, cum starting to ooze down from it.

“That ... that could have been my head, Katie!”

His erection was already nearly re-inflated and nearly ready to fire again—a semiautomatic, I guessed. “Put the end back in your mouth while I think,” I told him.”

“But, Katie! I—mmphmmth! Wthiph th rroth oph arrmm?!”

“Hush, Paul.”

“Mmmph!”

Was he being defiant? Dare he?! I bent over and yanked up my tiny dancer’s top to flash him.

His eyes widened in fear as his cock swelled. But it didn’t go off again, to his relief.

“Now be quiet,” I warned him.

* * *

“She’s quite the little bitch, isn’t she, David,” Mom commented.

“Release my love!” Paul whined from the floor. “Please!”

The liquid had filled the cubicle up to Katie’s waist.

“Let her drown,” Mom made her opinion known, “In her own juices.”

“Just continue the story, Katie.”

* * *

“Okay, Paul. This thing seems to be some type of wish-granter. And your grandfather used it on your mother.”

Paul nodded, eyes wide, as his mouth was filled with a fearful weapon that could go off again at any time.

“And you were going to use this thing on me! You DID use this thing on me!”

“Phlth rrrthie!”

“Okay. Take your cock out of your mouth and finish your story. But you better not piss me off, or I’ll have you put it back in your mouth and stroke.”

* * *

I woke when the bedroom door opened at 2:00. Mom stepped out and walked quickly up the hall. I got up and followed her to the kitchen.

“Mom?”

“Go back to your bedroom, Paul. Momma’s busy.” She lit a burner on the stove.

“What are you doing, Mom?”

“This thing has GOT to be destroyed!” She had grandpa’s stick!

I snatched it from her hand. “Mom! No!”

“Paul! Give me that!”

“It’s Grandpa’s!”

“It’s evil!”

“You can’t take it. It’s Grandpa’s!”

She snatched at it, but I held her back.

“I wish you’d calm down and tell me what it is about this thing.”

“I ... uhm ....” Mom walked over and sat down in a chair. “I ... can’t, Paul. It’s too embarrassing.”

“C’mon, Mom. What could make you steal something of Grandpa’s and try to destroy it?” I turned off the burner she had lit.

“Paul, I just can’t tell those things to you.”

“You have always done this, Mom. You clam up and then won’t tell me stuff. I wish you HAD to tell me!”

Suddenly, she stood, cast off her robe, stepped away from the table, spread her arms and legs, and stood there, naked, a slow drip coming from between her legs, wetting the floor.

“OhGOD, Paul! What have you done now?!”

The tone in her voice scared me. “What?! What have I done?!”

“You’ve loosened my brain! That’s not lubricant leaking out onto the floor, Paul, that’s spinal fluid! And I need to tell you about the penis before my brain slides down my spine, then squips out on the floor, leaving me just a brainless, sex-starved whore!”

“Mom?! What?!”

“Hush, Paul. I need to tell you about the penis.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well ....”

* * *

I was eighteen. Your aunt Elizabeth was twenty. Daddy had gotten hyped up about one of those yoga fads in the mid ‘70s and had spent two weeks away at a retreat.

Lizzie and I made a big dinner to celebrate his return home. Since Mom had passed away ten years before, the three of us had been a close-knit family and my sister and I, even though we were adults, had missed Daddy while he was gone.

When he got home, Lizzie and I were still preparing the meal. I remember that while he told us about the retreat,. he would keep reaching into his pocket and shutting his eyes for a few seconds, then he would continue talking. Lizzie complained that it was hot in the kitchen with all that food cooking.

Daddy started to tell her about how hot it had been at the retreat, then reached in his pocket and shut his eyes while he paused. Then he started talking about how humid it had been there too.

Lizzie fanned herself and declared that she was still hot. Then she just ... slid her skirt right off and stood there, smiling, in her panties and blouse. “Much better!” she smiled.

“Lizzie!” I gasped. “You can’t stand around like that! You’re half naked!” I looked to Daddy, waiting for him to order her to pull her skirt back on to preserve her modesty.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and shut his eyes. I assumed he was composing the words to chastise her.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “It’s not so bad for your sister to run around in her panties, now is it, Carol?”

“No ...,” came out of my dry mouth, “No, I guess not, Daddy.” I smiled. “I’m just being an old prude, aren’t I?”

“In fact, it IS rather hot in here. Why don’t you take your skirt off too?”

“NO, I don’t THINK so, Daddy!” What a weird thing for him to ask!

I stepped to the stove to stir the beans and make sure the potatoes weren’t boiling over, then took my seat again.

Daddy talked a little about how meager the meals were, reached in his pocket and shut his eyes, then started talking about all the flavors of teas they had.

“Well,” I stood, “I gotta go piss before I make a puddle on the floor!”

“Carol?!” Lizzie gasped. “Your language!”

“Oops!” I held my fingers to my lips and giggled. “Sorry!” Then I trotted back to the toilet.

I removed my skirt, slid my panties down and released my bladder. Pulling my panties back up, I headed back to the kitchen to hear more of Daddy’s adventures.

When I entered the room, Daddy and Lizzie jumped, startled, and it looked like Daddy was removing his hand from inside the back of Lizzie’s panties.

My brow furrowed. That was impossible to even think of! Daddy would NEVER do something so improper as to touch Lizzie’s behind!

“He, he,” Lizzie twittered, her face dark red and hot. “We ... uhm ... you see ... well, YOU look a lot cooler!”

I shook my head, not understanding what she meant.

She pointed at my lower half. “Looks like you got hot. You took off your skirt too.”

I looked down, and, sure enough, I just had on my panties below my waist. “Well, I guess I did.” I apparently had forgotten to put them back on after peeing.

“No matter,” Daddy said. “It looks much more comfortable.”

“It is,” I smiled, then stepped over to stir the beans.

Daddy went on about the postures and stretches they demonstrated at the retreat.

“I’m still hot,” Lizzie complained.

“Well, you’re NOT taking off your blouse,” I informed her.

“Why not? It’s just the three of us here.”

“Lizzie! That wouldn’t be PROPER! DADDY’s here!”

“Yes? And?”

“And it wouldn’t be proper.”

Daddy reached into his pocket again before talking about some of the breathing exercises. Listening to his exciting stories of how to collect prana, I walked over and stirred the beans. Scooping out a half spoonful, I walked over to Daddy. “What do you think?” I asked. “Are the spices okay? Too hot? Too sweet? I—oops!” I spilled some of the bean gravy on the thigh of Daddy’s pants. “Oh! I am SO sorry, Daddy!” I set the spoon of beans on the table.

Unbuttoning my blouse, I sank to my knees, then removed the garment and began blotting Daddy’s thigh with it, trying to mop up the gravy before it stained his pants.

I looked up to see Daddy’s eyes staring at my bra-covered chest. That was unusual—Daddy didn’t normally ogle my bra-covered boobs. But, then, Daddy wasn’t normally shown my bra-covered boobs. But I didn’t have time to address that. “This stain isn’t coming out, Daddy. Take off your pants. I need to go get them soaking in detergent.”

Daddy stood and removed his pants, which I took. Both Lizzie and I stood there in awe, our jaws hanging open. Daddy had a BULGE in his undershorts! A HUGE bulge. My brain wouldn’t even work out what it MEANT, that he was standing here with his two daughters in ... THAT condition!

“If you two ladies stare any harder, you’re going to have to kiss it.”

Both Lizzie and I immediately cast our eyes away. “I ... uhm ... ehr ... I need to get these pants soaking.”

“Hold on,” Daddy said, taking the pants back from me. He pulled what looked like a stick with a knob at one end out of the pocket, then handed them back to me.

I walked the pants back to the washing machine, unable to get Daddy’s ... erection out of my mind! That ... bulge! That BIG ... bulge! I poured some detergent on the spot, accidentally spilling too much on it. Rubbing the soap into the stain, I realized I was close to panting! That ... protrusion!

Could we be getting daddy ... hard? No! I couldn’t even think of that!

I walked back to the kitchen and saw that Lizzie had removed her blouse and was in just her panties and bra now. “Lizzie!” I frowned.

“Well, I’m hot,” she stuck her lip out. “Reeeeeaaally hot! Sizzling, even. Steaming. And if you can do it, so can I.”

She was right, I guessed. I was in my bra and panties too. Still ... it just didn’t seem right. Especially with Daddy so ... bulged like that!

I checked the potatoes, then sat and listened to Daddy talk about ethical virtues that they taught at the retreat. While he did, I studied his crotch. That bulge was ... enormous! It was just so ....

Daddy was staring at me, and I realized I had been licking my lips..

“Having trouble paying attention, Carol?” he smirked.

“N-no. I was just ... you were saying something about ethics.”

“Well,” he yawned before continuing. “I’m finally home. I’m going to get comfortable.” He stood and removed his shirt.

Lizzie and I both sat there, mesmerized, slack-jawed, unable to tear our eyes away from that flagpole poking out in front of him.

“Well,” Daddy said, shifting his hips from side to side, and smiling as our eyes automatically followed his crotch, “That feels a lot better. How about you, Lizzie? Wouldn’t you feel better ... unfettered ... by that bra?”

Lizzie shook her head and focused on what he had just said to her. “Oh, no, I ... couldn’t.”

“Oh, come on. You would feel so much freer.”

“No, Daddy. Certainly not! Stripping to just my panties and bra is one thing, but to just let my boobs hang out like so much meat—that just wouldn’t be appropriate, Daddy!”

Daddy reached for the stick he had taken from his pants pocket and set on the table. “Hmmm ... I said, Lizzie, wouldn’t you feel better unfettered by that tight, constricting bra?” He opened his eyes and smiled.

The relief that showed on Lizzie’s face was like that of a patient whose “six months left to live” turns out to be a misdiagnosis. It was okay! What Daddy was saying was okay! She reached behind, smiling softly, unsnapped her bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Lizzie?” I shrieked. “What are you DOING?!”

“What bout you?” Daddy smiled at me. “Wouldn’t you feel better without that tight ... binding ... bra?”

“No! Certainly NOT! And Lizzie has to put hers back on NOW!”

“It’s okay, Carol,” Lizzie smiled sweetly. “It DOES feel MUCH better.” She looked to Daddy and made eyes. “Much better!”

“NO!!”

Daddy was holding that stick out again. “Think about it again, Carol. Wouldn’t it feel much nicer without that binding chest strap?”

Was he CRAZY?! I opened my mouth and ....

... and ....

... and it really wasn’t all THAT bad to walk around bare-breasted. Especially if Daddy was running around without a shirt. And with that magnificent bulge. “O ... kay.” I reached behind and unsnapped my bra, then let it fall to the floor.

Wow! It really DID feel freer! My boobs could BREATHE now!

“Better?” Daddy asked.

“Better!” I agreed, smiling. The freedom was a relief.

Daddy held his stick and shut his eyes again. He was DOING something with that stick, I realized. He had held it and made it okay for my tits to hang out, even though it hadn’t been okay before. It was like he was using the stick to reach in and CHANGE Lizzie and me, to FIX us! Like we had no choice, that he could just MAKE us—

Daddy opened his eyes and smiled.

“Carol!” Lizzie pointed. “Your panties are stained all WET in front!” she smirked. “You’re EXCITED! You NASTY girl!”

I looked down, and she was right. The crotch of my panties was soaked. And she was right about me being excited, too. Thinking about ... daddy ... MAKING us ... LIKE things ... just ... shit! I just juiced myself again!

“Well,” Daddy clapped his hands. “I think it’s time for dinner. And Carol?”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“During dinner, you need to keep your mind on the meal and not on Daddy’s pecker. Understood?”

I swallowed hard. “Y-Yes, sir.”

We set the food on the table, and Lizzie and I both had the experience of having our boobs bare-naked at the dinner table for the first time in our lives. I was worried that my nipples were so perked up that it was obvious to the other two how sexually excited I was, but then I noticed that Lizzie’s were even more perked up than mine! They were SO perked up that I was surprised her eyes weren’t glazed over with lust.

While I was busy ... musing ... about ... places ... that I could put the carrots if I were only alone, Daddy reached for the stick and concentrated.

The table rose on his end.

“Sorry, girls,” he smiled, then wriggled his hips, and the table slipped back down. “There doesn’t seem to be enough room under the table for Daddy’s hard-on.” He stood then to carry his plate to the sink, and the head of his erection was in front of his knee, held there where it had burst out of the leg hole of his underwear.

Lizzie looked ready to crawl over the table after it, voraciously.

When he came back and sat, it had repositioned and stood up straight now, six inches above the table top, like some flesh-colored periscope, eyeballing Lizzie and me.

“Daddy ...,” I breathed. “You’re ... doing ... things, aren’t you?”

“Why, what do you mean, snookums?”

“Daddy ... you’re doing things ... TO us ... Lizzie and I ... we’re sitting here, having dinner with you ... with our boobs exposed ... and the crotches of our panties soaked ... and these things didn’t used to be okay ... but now they ARE okay. Every time you hold that stick and shut your eyes, more things become ... okay.”

“Don’t they though?” he grinned. “Why don’t you wash the dishes, Carol, while Lizzie and I go make a few more things okay.”

“Daddy, we can’t DO these things! You can’t make us ... okay ... with things like this!”

Her father, though, was holding the stick out again.

“Let me ... just ... get the dishes for you ....”

“That’s my sweetie. C’mon, Lizzie.” She giggled as he led her by the hand to the other room.

I finished the dishes, then swallowed hard. Should I ... join them ... in the other room? I shuddered to think what my father might make me do next ... but then what was he making Lizzie do right now ... ?

I had to see ....

Stepping quietly into the other room, I gazed upon ....

Lizzie was hunched over, on her knees, face pressed to the floor, ass bouncing high in the air while Daddy grunted behind her, thrusting into her pelvis to the same rhythm as her grunts and moans.

“Ohgod!” I gasped.

“Hi, candy twat,” Daddy grinned between grunts.

Lizzie was too lost in ecstasy to respond. I felt ... something ... but refused to believe that it was envy.

“Daddy ... you can’t DO these things! They’re not right! Here I am, standing here in just my panties, my boobs exposed for you,” a shiver ran through me, “For your PLEASURE! Daddy! I can’t even think straight enough to CHASTISE you! What have you DONE to us?!”

“Oh, angel, you’re Daddy’s two little fuck-toys now.”

“Noooooo ....” I fled from the room.

Daddy finished riding Lizzie, then left her on the floor in an orgasmic coma, twitching occasionally with an ecstatic ripple. He stepped into the kitchen.

I had stripped out of my soaked panties and was laying, spread, on the table, fingers moving in my cunt.

“Ogod, Daddy ... I NEED you!” I moaned.

“You need me to what?” he taunted me.

I pulled my two fingers out of my pussy. “I need you in here, Daddy,” I whined.

“Sugar pie, all of Daddy won’t fit in there.”

“Your COCK, Daddy!” I snapped, the yearning unbearable. “I need your COCK in here!”

“Sweetie, I don’t know. That just wouldn’t be right.”

“FUCK right, Daddy! I NEED you! Now!”

“Are you sure?”

“DADDY!”

My thighs spasmed, and I gasped as I felt him part my pussy lips with his cock. As he began stroking in and out, lust hammered at my brain, and I made little nonsense mewling sounds. Well before he came, I lost consciousness in an orgasmic abyss.

When I awoke, I was still spread out upon the table, Daddy’s cum leaking out my pussy.

What had he done ... ?!

Standing, not giving a second thought to my nakedness, I went looking for Daddy.

He was in the den, leaning back in a chair while Lizzie’s head bobbed on his erection.

“Daddy ... you’ve sprayed seed ... all inside my womb.”

“It’s okay, sugar boobs,” Daddy sighed. “You forgot about the penis.”

“The penis?” I frowned, not understanding.

Daddy waved toward the stick he had been using earlier to make Lizzie and me more ... compliant. “It’ll fix any of your pregnancy problems.”

I picked the stick—the penis, I guessed—up off the coffee table and pointed it at Daddy. “How does this thing work, Daddy?”

Daddy quickly pulled Lizzie’s head from his crotch and stood. “Hand that thing to Daddy, sweetie.”

Lizzie whined and tried to impale her face on his rod again, but Daddy pushed her away.

“You use this to ... change ... things, don’t you, Daddy?”

“Sweetie, give the penis to Daddy. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

I pointed the penis at him. “I wish you’d tell me how this thing works.”

“I ... I can’t, honey.”

I pointed it again. “I wish you HAD to tell me how it works!”

“Grrrkh!” Daddy clenched his fists as his erection shrank down to nothing, then a small hole appeared at his crotch.

“Please ... Carol ....” Daddy gasped through clenched teeth. He was in obvious agony.

“What?! What IS it, Daddy?! What happened?!”

“Oooooowww-ow-ooww! ... my erection ... you’ve turned it ... inside out ...!”

“Inside out?”

“Ooh! Ow! Yeah! Instead of sticking out ... it’s sticking in .. and it hurts ... a LOT!”

“Oooh, poor Daddy. So you mean, if I do this and turn you on,” I stuck two fingers up my pussy, “That will ....”

“OOWW! Oh! Ow! OW!”

“... get a little harder and get a little longer ... on the inside ... and hurt a little more?”

“Ohgod, yes! DON’T! Don’t excite me! Please!”

“Oh,” I smiled like a cat that no longer hungers for a canary. “Then I guess I really shouldn’t do ...” I turned around and cocked out my ass, “this.” Smiling, I let the tip of my index finger slip inside my sphincter.

“Oh! OW! Please! It hurts! You’re tearing me up inside! I just felt a kidney move out of the way!”

I turned around, puzzled. I left the tip of my index finger in my ass, as it really didn’t feel too bad there. “A kidney move?”

“Ohgod, yes! It really is poking up inside me now! If it hits my diaphragm or my heart, it may kill me!”

“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry. What c—”

“Ow! Oh! Ow!”

“Daddy?!”

“Hush! I need to tell you about the penis! You made that wish!”

I was quiet and Daddy spoke of monkeys and penises and yogis and temples ....

* * *

“Whoa! Cool!” I told my mother. “Is this for real?!”

* * *

“Wow! Amazing!” I told Paul. “What possibilities!”

* * *

“Awesome!” David told Katie. “What power! No wonder you turned into such a bitch about it!”

* * *

“Daddy, this is incredible!”

“It’s all true, Carol. That’s the story of the mummified monkey’s penis.” Having told me the truth and completed the wish, the hole in Daddy’s crotch filled in, then his inverted penis reverted and started inflating like those balloons magicians shape into dachshunds until he was normal again. Or oversized normal again.

“But there are ... so many ....”

“Give the penis back to Daddy, honey.”

“But you’ll just use it to make Lizzie and me loose and horny. And soft in the head.”

“You can trust me, honey,” Daddy put on a sincere smile.

“But you’ll just ... make us walk around ... naked! And let you put ... things ... places!” I gasped. My mind was just filled with things too unbelievable to speak of.

“Are those really such bad things, honey? Trust Daddy.”

I swallowed hard, finding my mouth very dry. “If you ... if you promise to be a good boy, Daddy.”

“Of course I do, Carol.” A flash glinted off his front tooth.

“And to behave yourself, Daddy.”

“I ALWAYS behave myself, sugar dumpling.”

“O...” I handed Daddy the penis, “...kay.”

“Thanks, dollbaby.” Daddy pointed the penis at me and shut his eyes.

I soon had my face pressed to the floor, my ass high in the air as Daddy pumped me.

“DO her, Daddy! DO the little bitch!” Lizzie said from the sidelines.

“Enjoying yourself, punkin?” Daddy asked me.

“Ohgod, yeah!” I gasped in between pumps.

“Daddy LOVES his two little girls.”

* * *

“Oh, SHIT, Paul!” a sudden glob of juice fell from Mom’s pussy and splashed on the floor. Her leg twitched, and she brought her fingers to her cunt. “Ohgod! I am sooooo hooo-oo-orny!”

“Mom?!”

Her eyes opened, and she leered at me, eyes filled with lust. “Yes ... baby?” she breathed.

“What just happened, Mom?”

“My brain just slipped partway down my spine, honey. And now my body’s free to juice up, thinking about Daddy ... thinking about you ... do you want to come touch Mommy’s fur, sweetie? Her wet fur? Come pet me ... please ....”

“Maybe you’d better let her finish her story, Paul.” This was Grandpa, who had just stepped into the kitchen. “If her brain leaks all the way out, her spine, she’ll be nothing more than an empty-headed lusty sex doll forever. And you’d probably prefer for her to cook and clean occasionally for you.”

I was staring at Mom opening frigging herself. “Wh-whatever you say, Grandpa.”

“Finish your story, snookums,” he told her.

* * *

O ... kay.

Well, things were heavenly for a while. With the help of the penis, the three of us coupled with each other one or two dozen times a day. We were in a horny little paradise.

After a year, though, Daddy decided that it wasn’t good for us to continue as we had been. He thought that Lizzie and I should continue with our own lives and just use the penis occasionally. He said that the penis should be a brief detour for our lives and not a derailment. He started sending Lizzie and I out each day, looking for suitable husbands. It took me a month to find James. Lizzie took six weeks to choose Stanley.

Daddy used the penis and both our men fell head over heels in love with us. Soon we were married.

I ... I ... ohgod! I am SO horny! What? Yes, you’re right, Daddy. I need to finish my story before my brain slips out and I’m permanently horny.

Well, then Daddy wants us to NOT FUCK HIM! Can you believe THAT?! We’d all three pleasured each other for over a year, and then he actually wanted us to stop and only fuck our husbands! Let me tell you, Lizzie and I had a row with him over that!

So he uses the penis to make us forget about the penis. That worked for about six months. But then I’m sitting there, running through some memories, and I recall that Daddy used to make things ... okay. I don’t remember how he did it, but he used to make all kinds of things okay. I called Lizzie and she started remembering too. We both drove to Daddy’s house to confront him about it and he just sighed.

Well—Oh, SHIT! Ohgod! Oh! YEAH! Yeah, there’s more water on the floor. Yeah, you’re right, Daddy. I think more of my brain did just slip out. OhGOD, I’m hooo-oo-oorny! No, I don’t know if I CAN continue.

Okay. So then Daddy makes us afraid of the penis. Horribly afraid so that if we started getting memories near it, we’d be too afraid to finish remembering. And then I had you, Paul, and I never remembered that wonderful penis. And even if I started to, I was too afraid to finish remembering.

* * *

When she got to that point in her story, Mom kept fingering herself, but she stopped leaking—or at least she slowed down leaking enough that you could tell it was normal sex juices and not spinal fluid.

I asked Grandpa, to be sure that Mom wouldn’t be just a lust-crazed sex whore for the rest of her life, and he said he was sure, that the penis didn’t work like that.

He told me some more about the penis—ways to use it, things to watch out for, wishes to avoid because they wind up going wrong and being more trouble than they’re worth. Then he told me that he wasn’t leaving the penis with me yet. He was going to keep it a while longer, but I would inherit it when he passed away, and he wanted to make sure that I would and could use it wisely.

I asked why he didn’t’ just wish to not die, and he said that was another of those wishes that can’t help but to go wrong. He’d had a full life, he said, and I’d be getting the penis in the next couple years.

We went to bed then, though it was hard to sleep that night.

The next morning we got up and got dressed. What happened last night didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of reality—it seemed more like a dream than like something that had really happened last night.

I hugged Grandpa and thanked him for everything.

Mom hugged him and told him she was going to miss him.

Grandpa opened the closet door, and Dad stopped pumping that nasty-smelling shoe in and out his ass long enough to wish Grandpa well.

“One last thing you might want to pay attention to, lad,” Grandpa told me, then unzipped and whipped out his schlong.

Mom whimpered, dropped to her knees and sucked him off vigorously for a couple minutes until he squirted her in the face.

Then Mom used her fingers to wipe and eat all the cream.

“You always were the best suck I ever had, Carol,” he said, zipping. “Live well, you two.”

Then he was gone. Mom fixed a cup of coffee, then she and I sat at the kitchen table in silence a couple minutes. Finally she spoke, “Paul, some ... things ... happened last night and this morning.”

“I know,” I sighed. I had known this would be coming. “These were special circumstances. And nothing like this can ever happen again. I understand.”

“It certainly can NOT, young man! Not ever again.” After a moment, she swallowed hard. “And ... and you had BETTER not MAKE me, young man.”

I looked at her. She licked her lips. As she reached for her coffee cup, I saw that her hand was trembling slightly. After her sip, she set the cup down and breathed in deeply. “I said ... you had BETTER not MAKE me, young man.”

“Make you?” What was she talking about?

“Mm-hmm. You had just BETTER not. Don’t even THINK about doing that!”

My brow furrowed. How ... how would I make her?

Mom sighed. “You’d BETTER not whip out your penis and expect to command me to suck it like I did for your grandfather.”

“Whip ... out ... ?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Paul! You’re a bright boy. It’s a hunger he left in me! If you whip out your cock, I’ll do ANYTHING for you! ANYTHING! Now you had just BETTER not think you can pull that on me, young man!” She wagged her index finger at me, warning.

I raised my brows. Then I stood and unzipped.

“Oh ... baby ... noooo ...,” Mom sighed sweetly. “Don’t ... MAKE ... me ... DO ... things ....”

I pulled out my pecker, and Mom was on her knees, sucking my cock down her throat before I could even get my hands back out of the way.

* * *

So that’s the story according to Paul. Last week his grandfather passed away and he cried some, but then today the penis came certified mail.

* * *

“Wait a second,” Mom whispered to me. “Something weird just happened. Paul was talking, telling us about his grandfather and mother, but then Katie suddenly starts wrapping up the story. What’s with that?”

“Actually, Katie’s been talking the whole time, Mom. She was just telling us what he said to her during her introduction to the penis.”

“Oh. Still ....”

* * *

So I had fun, having Paul fuck his mom, then comparing her to what he imagined I’d be like. She was feeling pretty awful by the time we left.”

“Cunt,” Mom growled.

* * *

Oops: need to shift out one more level.

“Cunt,” Mom growled.

Somewhere ... someWHEN ... the cackle of a monkey echoed.

* * *

“Okay, let me get this straight, then,” David said. “Katie, you wished for Paul to be your slave.”

Katie swallowed. Her juices had filled the cubicle to the top of her breasts, six inches from her mouth. If it didn’t stop soon, she’d drown in her own lubricant. “Y-yes.”

“But you didn’t fuck him.”

“No.”

“But you made his mother feel like shit.”

“Yes.”

“Cunt,” Mom repeated.

“What did you wish on me?”

“I wished for you to have a huge pleasure tool, then Paul and I rushed right over. I had no idea, though, that I would NEED the juice so badly. Curses! I’d have succeeded in my foul plan if it weren’t for that. That and that little doggie of yours too!”

“Hey!” Mom shot back. “I am NOT!”

“Hush, both of you,” David snapped. “Now, how did you change my mom?”

“He, he. I made her nipples into ‘yes’ buttons, so Paul could press them and she’d say, ‘Oh, okay. Yes.’ And I made her pussy into a ‘hell, yes!’ button. Or, actually, sort of an anti-button since a pussy is more of a hole than a projection you can push.”

“Yeah, yeah,” David cut her short.

“That’s about it. I’ve only had so much time to—”

“A good thing, too, David!” Lydia put in, stepping between David and the glass cubicle. “Do you HEAR what insidious plans she HAD for us?!”

“What ... uhm ... plans were those, Mom?”

“Why, you just HEARD her! She made Paul’s mother feel really bad about herself. And she had the same twisted fate in mind for ME!”

“Uhm, yeah. Terrible fate, Mom. Paul!” David turned to him.

“Please! Release my love!”

David looked at Katie, and, actually, the liquid WAS high enough that she was starting to blow nose bubbles. Sighing, David held forth the penis. “I wish that Katie was free of the cubicle. And that she craves the taste of my jism and Mom’s cunt above all else.”

Suddenly, Katie was sitting on the carpet, legs spread wide, her whole body well-lubricated, but not drowning. “Let me ... let me suck you, David ... please!”

“Later, Katie. Paul.”

“Yes, freer of my love?”

“You were going to wish huge, extra-sensitive gazongas on my mom?”

“That’s what I said earlier.”

“And if that hadn’t broken her will, if she had still resisted becoming a slut, what would you have wished next?”

“Why, that she craved sex so bad that she couldn’t resist. And then, if she’d have gone to the bathroom, I think I’d’ve thought to make her rectum so extra-sensitive that she would crave anal sex.”

“Interesting.”

“And if you’d have gotten pissed about that, I think I would’ve wished for you to become a girl! Yeah! and I would have wished for our English professor, Mrs Mulholland, to be unable to stop saying corny, lewd things! AND be unable to stop peeing herself! And THEN, I would’ve wished for a special hat to turn your girlfriend into a dumb sex bunny!”

“Why? Why would you do all of these things?”

“Because SHE!—my eternal true love, of course—made my mom feel bad!”

“Twisted,” Lydia muttered.

“But ...,” David finished thinking this through as he spoke. “You would have done all these horrible things because she made your mom feel bad, but ... but if you had done them, she would be a dumb sex slut and never have the chance to make your mom feel bad.”

“But she would have made her feel bad the OTHER time through here!” Paul nodded.

“The other time?”

“Yeah! The OTHER time! THIS time! The time when Katie DOES show up at my house.”

“I don’t—”

* * *

The monkey chuckled.

* * *

Before you sits a physical god of a man, radiating sheer megalithic sexual prowess, hunched over, scribbling on a pad of paper.

He becomes aware of your presence and looks up. “Hey! You’re not supposed to be here! I’m writing about you!”

“About me?” you ask.

“No! About him!” He points to someone beside you that looks like what you imagined David to look like. Then he points at you. “YOU’RE supposed to be reading this. Well, not this part. This part is supposed to be behind the scenes where you never see it.”

“But I just—" you begin.

“No, no. I don’t care. You’re not supposed to be here, either. Out! Out! Get out!”

As he walks toward you, flicking his hands to shoo you, you read the Arabic script on his shirt pocket (for some reason you can now read Arabic): Jafar.

“Hey! Aren’t you—" you begin.

“What if I am?”

“But aren’t you supposed to—”

* * *

The monkey finished writing his name on the wall with his urine stream and then put the little monkey away back in his trousers. Well, that is, if he HAD trousers ....

* * *

“Jesus!” David gasped. “ENOUGH of THAT! My head is spinning.”

* * *

(To Be Continued)