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(Also on AO3)
The title of this chapter is based on the song 'Pretty Pictures in My Mind' by The Lumineers", "writing": " Over four years had come and gone. Although it still took some time for the family to fully adjust to a life without a maternal figure, the Cattles’ lives were slowly but surely improving one day at a time. Mort fully recovered from his alcoholism, and he spent more time with his daughters - as much as he possibly could. They slowly learned to smile again. To laugh again. There were still some days that hurt more than others, but they always had each other to rely on when their sadness temporarily crept back into their thoughts. But thankfully, those days were steadily becoming few and far between. \n Then, the day finally came when the family decided to clean out Mum’s crafting room. \n She was known to be a very artsy dog, always trying new projects of all different kinds of crafts. Some days she would focus on sewing and hemming, others she would try her hand at painting, and sometimes she would be more motivated to make little clay sculptures. If it involved creating something, [i]anything[/i], she wanted to do it. Mort always admired that about her. \n But she was gone now, and [i]had[/i] been gone for over five whole years. It was time to put her things away, and time to look toward the future rather than dwelling on the past. It was time to move on. \n As the door opened to the sunroom full of virtually-untouched crafting tables littered with Mrs. Cattle’s unfinished projects, there was a somber stillness that permeated the air like a cold wind. Mort let out an audible shuddered sigh as his eyes scanned the room while fond memories of his wife sitting at her usual table came rushing back, and his daughters held each of his hands as they stood by his side. He gave each of their hands a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement before nodding, and the three entered the room to start cleaning up. \n Minutes soon became hours, and as the day went on the room began to look noticeably different. There were some tears shed here and there with every unfinished craft project each of them picked up, thinking about how beautiful it surely would have looked if she would have been able to finish it. Some unfinished clay sculptures without a limb or a head, a painting that was only half-completed, a hat that was missing a brim. Each unfinished piece of her art reminded them that life was finite, and it could end at any moment. How unfair it was that a life well-lived like hers - one full of kindness and love - should be cut short and taken away early, while there were other dogs in this world who took life for granted, who never once created anything of value, or who were simply unkind and cruel, that got to live longer lives than hers. A few politicians came to Mort’s mind in particular. \n Chilli made her way to the bookcase on the far right wall, glancing over each of the titles on the shelves. There were a lot of DIY books on crafting all kinds of different things, seemingly everything from embroidery to cross-stitching and even origami. However, there was one book in particular that had no label. Chilli pulled it out and looked at the cover, seeing only the words ‘journal’ in scribbled writing as though a child had written it. It was obviously quite old, probably from the fifties at least. She opened the book to the first page. \n\n ‘Darling Halls’\n\n This was Mum’s diary, dating all the way back to her early childhood. \n\n Chilli felt it was wrong to snoop through her late mother’s personal journal like this, but at the same time… was it [i]really[/i]? Her mother was long-gone now, and this diary could give her some valuable insight as to who she was as a person. After all, Chilli only had a few faint memories left of her after so much time had passed and her early childhood faded away more and more each year. \n She made up her mind - Chilli would take the liberty of reading it first in privacy, and then she’d let Brandy and her dad read it afterwards. That is, [i]after[/i] taking out anything particularly embarrassing she might find within the pages that her mum wouldn’t want anyone else to know. It seemed like the right thing to do. \nChilli hid the journal between two crafting books, discreetly taking them back to her bedroom and placing the journal underneath her mattress for safekeeping to read later in privacy.\n\n Once night had arrived and Brandy fell asleep, Chilli took the journal out - as well as the flashlight she’d kept under her bed - hid under her blanket, and began to read. Some of the text on the first pages were a bit difficult to see, since they were written by a young girl and the pages were very old, but she was still able to make out most of the words.\n\n [i]Oct 1 - deer diary, I got you for my birthday! mama said I shud tri to rite in you evry day to practis riting. And if i get veri good, i coud even be a auther someday! this is my first entry. I wonder what kinds of things i will rite in you.[/i]\n\n [i]Oct 2 - It would be swell if you were a majic diary, and if I rote my wishes in you they woud come true! I wish I had my very own pet. like a possem or a kangaroo. I like possems. I think they are very cute.[/i]\n\n [i]Oct 3 - today I saw a snake. dad shot it though. I wish he didn’t have to. it didnt do anything bad. but he said snakes are very dangerus. I just hope its happy in snake heven. [/i]\n\n Chilli kept reading page by page of almost every day of her mother’s childhood. She quietly chuckled at the funny entries, teared up a little at the sadder entries, and was thoroughly invested all the way through. It felt rather surreal to be reading this window into her late mum’s past, at moments it felt like she was actually there with her. \nBut then, after around two years’ worth of entries, she read an entry that made her cover her mouth in shock. \n\n [i]July 19 - I know it’s been a while since I’ve written in you, but I just felt I had to write this down. I had a very strange dream last night. My dad was there, and we did… something. I don’t really know what. I’m still not sure how to feel about it. But it felt kind of good. It all felt so real. At first I thought it was really happening. I hope I have that dream again. [/i]\n\n[i] July 20 - I had the dream again. But it was different. The things Dad and I did were different. But they still felt really good. He showed me ways to make myself feel really good. Why do I feel this way? It was just a dream. But it was unlike any dream I’ve ever had before. What does it all mean?[/i]\n\n[i] July 26 - Dad’s been acting really strange lately. I feel like he’s avoiding me. He looks so nervous ever since I started having those dreams about him. Did I do something wrong? Do my dreams have anything to do with it? I’m sure I never told him about these dreams I’ve been having. But does he know somehow?[/i]\n\n Chilli’s brows furrowed more and more with each entry, going into increasingly graphic detail about these vivid dreams as they went on. It was becoming clear that young Darling’s childlike naivety and innocent curiosity was quickly turning into lustful debauchery and degeneracy for her own father.\n She tore out each sensitive page as she went so that her dad nor Brandy would ever be able to find them. Discovering something like this would definitely change their perception of Darling. Once she was sure she had carefully removed every last page that even hinted at her mum’s dreams, she folded them all neatly together before wedging them down deeply between her bed and the wall. Once she had the time and privacy, she would find a way to dispose of them tomorrow. This felt like the right thing to do, for her mother’s sake. She knew if [i]she[/i] were in her mum’s position, she would want someone she trusted to get rid of her most embarrassing or secretive memorabilia if she should ever pass away so that no one could stumble upon them and posthumously ruin her reputation. \n Then, she finally came to the entry on the very last page of the diary that confirmed her suspicions.\n\n [i]Dec 1, 1982 - For my daughters[/i]\n\n Chilli gasped audibly.\n\n [i]I’m not long for this world now. I know that. The cancer is spreading faster than before. Should one of you find this book, please know that this was a me from a different time. I’m a much different dog now, and you and your father Mort are the whole world to me. I keep this diary for one of you to find, so that if you one day find yourself in a situation like mine, you have the answers that I won’t be able to give to you in person. I inherited dream-telepathy from my mother, and you may have likely inherited it from me as well. Or perhaps you didn’t, I can’t know for certain. And if you inherited my… “interests”… well, just know that you have my blessing. Your father is a good dog, and even though he might make mistakes from time to time, I know he’ll do his very best to take good care of you girls. As long as you’re all happy, that’s the most important thing to me. But no matter what happens after I’m gone, please always stay close with one another. In the end, when our health is gone and our life is over and done, our loved ones are all we have left. [/i]\n [i]I love you all. You’ll be okay. I promise. [/i]\n\n Chilli tore out the page, sniffling as her tear fell on the paper. \n Once that was taken care of and she slid the journal back under her mattress, Chilli laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. The more she thought about it, the more disturbed she felt at the life-changing revelation. She wasn’t [i]just[/i] having sexual dreams about her dad; she was somehow, some way, actually making some kind of psychic connection with him and truly experiencing these things together in their minds. They never once did anything of the sort for real-life, but did it even really matter in the end? Those thoughts, those [i]feelings[/i], were still there. \n Chilli thought about how she felt about her dad. He had truly changed for the better over the last few years, keeping his word on minimizing his drinking as well as spending more time and being more affectionate with his daughters again. Her intimate dreams involving him had been ongoing ever since their intervention at the bonfire, usually around once a week or so. They never really had any lengthy conversations during these dreams, and she made sure to never even hint that she was having these dreams about him. \n Chilli wasn’t sure if these dreams of hers were simply of out some kind of electra complex induced by the trauma of losing her mother at a young age, or if she genuinely loved her dad as more than just the father he was, but to now know with certainty that he was experiencing her dreams along with her sent a chill down her spine. Her stomach churned and sunk deep into her gut as she remembered moments from her dreams. All the ways in which they had experienced each other. The tastes, the smells, the sounds of his voice in her ear. It was all actually [i]him[/i], not just a figment of her depraved imagination. \n Her heart began to pound the more her imagination ran wild. The more the reality set in that she had this extraordinary ability. Mort knew. Mort knew about her dreams. He’d done so much with her. And he’d hidden the truth so well.\n As if her body were moving on its own, Chilli quietly stood from her bed and placed her feet on the floor, walking across the room and exiting into the hallway. From there, she went to the end of the short hall and opened the door. Her father’s room. \n It was pitch-dark, save for the very faint moonlight coming in through Mort’s window and illuminating the wall opposite of his bed. Even so, she could barely see much of anything. But she could hear very well with her sensitive dog ears in the silence of the night. The closer she got to her dad’s bedside, the more she could hear him softly snoring as his nose just barely peeked out from under the blanket draped over him. \n Chilli approached her sleeping father, simply standing still for a while as she looked down at him. Her nerves shook the more her eyes adjusted, just barely able to make out his facial features as he slept soundly. She felt a cold shiver through her entire body, even though it was a hot February night. She swallowed the saliva building up in her mouth, goosebumps running up her arms and spine as the fur on the back of her neck began to stand up slightly. She got closer, and closer, and before she even realized it her face was inches away from his. Chilli could feel his hot breath gently brushing against her nose. The natural smell of his breath was identical to that which she experienced in her dreams. She stared at his mouth for more than several moments, just barely open. She licked her own lips, inching closer. \n Closer. \n Closer. \n Chilli’s nose was nearly touching Mort’s now as he slept, her mind racing with so many tempting thoughts. Even if he woke up, she knew he’d be into it. He’d done so much more than this with her in their shared dreams together. [i]So[/i] much. She debated taking the plunge. Why shouldn’t she? Her mother apparently approved. She loved her dad. The way he made her feel. It felt wrong. It felt right. It was exciting. She wanted to. Desperately. \n Without even realizing it, Chilli was quietly moaning with each exhale she took as she tried to internally justify what she was about to do. She was salivating, and [i]heavily.[/i] Any second now. She would do it. Just a taste. And if he woke up, well…\n But before she could do anything, Mort suddenly grumbled in his sleep, smacking his lips as he turned around to re-adjust himself under the covers. \n And just like that, Chilli let out a sigh as her goosebumps receded - partially in disappointment, but mostly in relief. What on earth was she [i]thinking[/i]? Why was she about to do that? She stood up again, quietly backing out of her father’s bedroom and leaving the door open a crack behind her before returning down the hall to her room and back into her own bed.\n\n Her heart was still pounding, as was her virgin mound. She was glad she didn’t get the chance to do something she might end up regretting, but she still couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Now that she knew the truth, she knew that her dreams with her father would never feel quite the same. \n Once her heart had eventually settled, Chilli yawned and finally fell asleep. \n She opened her eyes again. She was standing in front of an unfamiliar house somewhere in the suburbs of a large city. She opened the door in front of her, walking in to find it was surprisingly spacious on the inside for how modest it seemed from the outside. Suddenly, her head turned to the sound of a laughing little girl. No, [i]two[/i] laughing little girls. One was a blue heeler, and one was a slightly smaller red heeler like herself. Or at least, that’s what they [i]appeared[/i] to be. They were very blurry to Chilli, so much so that she couldn't discern their faces, and their voices were heavily muffled. The two quickly ran past her as they were being chased by an equally-blurry adult blue heeler, who was holding a colorful xylophone and hitting the little keys on it with the small mallet as if he were trying to cast some kind of magic spell on them with it. \n “Now this definitely has to be one of the [i]weirder[/i] dreams I’ve ever had…” Chilli mumbled to herself, to which the three heelers immediately stopped in their tracks and looked straight at her. Feeling a bit creeped out at their silent acknowledgement of her existence, she stepped back a little. Chilli jolted in place as she suddenly felt someone behind her, spinning around to find her sister Brandy, who immediately spoke to her clear as day.\n “What are [i]you[/i] doing here?” \n\t\n Chilli blinked, and found herself back in the woods just outside of her house. She looked around, noticing the movement of a familiar figure just down the hill. As she began to approach her dad, she remembered the reality of these dreams - that this was [i]really[/i] her dad, the one sleeping just down the hall from her. What would she say to him? Should she tell him the truth, or keep it a secret? Would she even be able to bring herself to continue this, knowing that these were no longer just her own personal fantasies?\n “Hey, Chilli-Dog!” Mort turned to face her with a smile as he heard her footsteps through the fallen twigs and leaves. \n At that moment, Chilli knew she could [i]never[/i] let him know. Telling him could be disastrous. It could destroy their family dynamic in reality entirely if he learned the truth. She had already nearly lost him once, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to lose him again. She didn’t want to ruin this good thing they had going. It would only be in their dreams. Only a fantasy. Chilli would make sure of it.\n Without a word to her father, Chilli rushed to him and held him in an embrace, leaning up to kiss him. He kissed her back affectionately, wrapping his arms around his daughter as well before slowly running his hand down her soft back and stopping just above her tail. Chilli eagerly slid her tongue into his mouth just like so many times she had done before over the past several years, tasting him in an entirely new way now that she knew it was really him and not just an illusion created by her mind. She rested her hands on her dad’s shoulders, fantasizing about what it would be like if she really [i]had[/i] done what she was planning while Mort was sleeping in bed. \n But the more the father and daughter continued their intimate moment together, the more Chilli felt… off. She wanted to do more, to go further, and yet at the same time there was something holding her back. This was not how a father and daughter should be. She couldn’t keep indulging in this make-believe relationship as she was. Last night [i]proved[/i] to her that now that she knew the truth about her inherited ability, she likely wouldn’t be able to keep herself contained if she continued this. At least, as often as she had been. At some point, sooner or later, she might slip up and make a mistake that couldn’t be fixed. Maybe once in a great while might be fine. But this wasn’t healthy. And it wasn’t right. She would just have to keep these incestuous feelings for her father suppressed, and she would only revisit his dreams to stop herself if she should ever feel a strong urge to do something rash with him for real-life. \n\tHer train of thought was derailed as Mort’s hand found its way to her behind, his fingers inviting themselves into her holes as his palm cupped her rear end. Chilli gently pulled herself away.\n \t“Dad…” She said shyly, looking up at him.\n \t“Yeah, Chilli?” Mort replied, his eyebrow raised. Never once in his dreams could he remember a time when Chilli refused his affections. \n “Would it be okay if we just… go for a walk together?” Chilli continued, hoping this dream wouldn’t turn into a nightmare. \n “...Oh, uh… of course, Chilli-Dog. That’d be just lovely.” Mort gave her a genuine and understanding smile, to which Chilli sighed a breath of relief. Even in his dreams, he really was a good father. She grabbed his hand, and together they walked as father and daughter down the beautiful trail in the serene forest towards a better tomorrow. \n\n\n “...And that’s pretty much it.” Chilli said as she wrapped up her story, lying next to her husband Bandit in their bed. “From that point on, I mostly stopped dream-sharing with my dad. Well, except for a few times here and there, but they were pretty rare.” \n \t“Well, that sure was… something.” Bandit replied as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, still finding the image of his wife and her dad together a bit strange. “Well now that our family is, y’know… the way it is, do you think you’ll ever…?”\n “For real-life? Hmm…” Chilli thought for a moment, remembering how she felt that night so many years ago when she almost pushed things too far with her Mort. But then again, as things were, Chilli was happy with her life the way it was. No point in overcomplicating it. \n “...Nah.”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "            Over four years had come and gone. Although it still took some time for the family to fully adjust to a life without a maternal figure, the Cattles’ lives were slowly but surely improving one day at a time. Mort fully recovered from his alcoholism, and he spent more time with his daughters - as much as he possibly could. They slowly learned to smile again. To laugh again. There were still some days that hurt more than others, but they always had each other to rely on when their sadness temporarily crept back into their thoughts. But thankfully, those days were steadily becoming few and far between.
            Then, the day finally came when the family decided to clean out Mum’s crafting room.
            She was known to be a very artsy dog, always trying new projects of all different kinds of crafts. Some days she would focus on sewing and hemming, others she would try her hand at painting, and sometimes she would be more motivated to make little clay sculptures. If it involved creating something, anything, she wanted to do it. Mort always admired that about her.
            But she was gone now, and had been gone for over five whole years. It was time to put her things away, and time to look toward the future rather than dwelling on the past. It was time to move on.
            As the door opened to the sunroom full of virtually-untouched crafting tables littered with Mrs. Cattle’s unfinished projects, there was a somber stillness that permeated the air like a cold wind. Mort let out an audible shuddered sigh as his eyes scanned the room while fond memories of his wife sitting at her usual table came rushing back, and his daughters held each of his hands as they stood by his side. He gave each of their hands a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement before nodding, and the three entered the room to start cleaning up.
            Minutes soon became hours, and as the day went on the room began to look noticeably different. There were some tears shed here and there with every unfinished craft project each of them picked up, thinking about how beautiful it surely would have looked if she would have been able to finish it. Some unfinished clay sculptures without a limb or a head, a painting that was only half-completed, a hat that was missing a brim. Each unfinished piece of her art reminded them that life was finite, and it could end at any moment. How unfair it was that a life well-lived like hers - one full of kindness and love - should be cut short and taken away early, while there were other dogs in this world who took life for granted, who never once created anything of value, or who were simply unkind and cruel, that got to live longer lives than hers. A few politicians came to Mort’s mind in particular.
            Chilli made her way to the bookcase on the far right wall, glancing over each of the titles on the shelves. There were a lot of DIY books on crafting all kinds of different things, seemingly everything from embroidery to cross-stitching and even origami. However, there was one book in particular that had no label. Chilli pulled it out and looked at the cover, seeing only the words ‘journal’ in scribbled writing as though a child had written it. It was obviously quite old, probably from the fifties at least. She opened the book to the first page.

            ‘Darling Halls’

            This was Mum’s diary, dating all the way back to her early childhood.

            Chilli felt it was wrong to snoop through her late mother’s personal journal like this, but at the same time… was it really? Her mother was long-gone now, and this diary could give her some valuable insight as to who she was as a person. After all, Chilli only had a few faint memories left of her after so much time had passed and her early childhood faded away more and more each year.
            She made up her mind - Chilli would take the liberty of reading it first in privacy, and then she’d let Brandy and her dad read it afterwards. That is, after taking out anything particularly embarrassing she might find within the pages that her mum wouldn’t want anyone else to know. It seemed like the right thing to do.
Chilli hid the journal between two crafting books, discreetly taking them back to her bedroom and placing the journal underneath her mattress for safekeeping to read later in privacy.

            Once night had arrived and Brandy fell asleep, Chilli took the journal out - as well as the flashlight she’d kept under her bed - hid under her blanket, and began to read. Some of the text on the first pages were a bit difficult to see, since they were written by a young girl and the pages were very old, but she was still able to make out most of the words.

            Oct 1 - deer diary, I got you for my birthday! mama said I shud tri to rite in you evry day to practis riting. And if i get veri good, i coud even be a auther someday! this is my first entry. I wonder what kinds of things i will rite in you.

            Oct 2 - It would be swell if you were a majic diary, and if I rote my wishes in you they woud come true! I wish I had my very own pet. like a possem or a kangaroo. I like possems. I think they are very cute.

            Oct 3 - today I saw a snake. dad shot it though. I wish he didn’t have to. it didnt do anything bad. but he said snakes are very dangerus. I just hope its happy in snake heven.

            Chilli kept reading page by page of almost every day of her mother’s childhood. She quietly chuckled at the funny entries, teared up a little at the sadder entries, and was thoroughly invested all the way through. It felt rather surreal to be reading this window into her late mum’s past, at moments it felt like she was actually there with her.
But then, after around two years’ worth of entries, she read an entry that made her cover her mouth in shock.

            July 19 - I know it’s been a while since I’ve written in you, but I just felt I had to write this down. I had a very strange dream last night. My dad was there, and we did… something. I don’t really know what. I’m still not sure how to feel about it. But it felt kind of good. It all felt so real. At first I thought it was really happening. I hope I have that dream again.

            July 20 - I had the dream again. But it was different. The things Dad and I did were different. But they still felt really good. He showed me ways to make myself feel really good. Why do I feel this way? It was just a dream. But it was unlike any dream I’ve ever had before. What does it all mean?

            July 26 - Dad’s been acting really strange lately. I feel like he’s avoiding me. He looks so nervous ever since I started having those dreams about him. Did I do something wrong? Do my dreams have anything to do with it? I’m sure I never told him about these dreams I’ve been having. But does he know somehow?

            Chilli’s brows furrowed more and more with each entry, going into increasingly graphic detail about these vivid dreams as they went on. It was becoming clear that young Darling’s childlike naivety and innocent curiosity was quickly turning into lustful debauchery and degeneracy for her own father.
            She tore out each sensitive page as she went so that her dad nor Brandy would ever be able to find them. Discovering something like this would definitely change their perception of Darling. Once she was sure she had carefully removed every last page that even hinted at her mum’s dreams, she folded them all neatly together before wedging them down deeply between her bed and the wall. Once she had the time and privacy, she would find a way to dispose of them tomorrow. This felt like the right thing to do, for her mother’s sake. She knew if she were in her mum’s position, she would want someone she trusted to get rid of her most embarrassing or secretive memorabilia if she should ever pass away so that no one could stumble upon them and posthumously ruin her reputation.
            Then, she finally came to the entry on the very last page of the diary that confirmed her suspicions.

            Dec 1, 1982 - For my daughters

            Chilli gasped audibly.

            I’m not long for this world now. I know that. The cancer is spreading faster than before. Should one of you find this book, please know that this was a me from a different time. I’m a much different dog now, and you and your father Mort are the whole world to me. I keep this diary for one of you to find, so that if you one day find yourself in a situation like mine, you have the answers that I won’t be able to give to you in person. I inherited dream-telepathy from my mother, and you may have likely inherited it from me as well. Or perhaps you didn’t, I can’t know for certain. And if you inherited my… “interests”… well, just know that you have my blessing. Your father is a good dog, and even though he might make mistakes from time to time, I know he’ll do his very best to take good care of you girls. As long as you’re all happy, that’s the most important thing to me. But no matter what happens after I’m gone, please always stay close with one another. In the end, when our health is gone and our life is over and done, our loved ones are all we have left.
            I love you all. You’ll be okay. I promise.

            Chilli tore out the page, sniffling as her tear fell on the paper.
            Once that was taken care of and she slid the journal back under her mattress, Chilli laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. The more she thought about it, the more disturbed she felt at the life-changing revelation. She wasn’t just having sexual dreams about her dad; she was somehow, some way, actually making some kind of psychic connection with him and truly experiencing these things together in their minds. They never once did anything of the sort for real-life, but did it even really matter in the end? Those thoughts, those feelings, were still there.
            Chilli thought about how she felt about her dad. He had truly changed for the better over the last few years, keeping his word on minimizing his drinking as well as spending more time and being more affectionate with his daughters again. Her intimate dreams involving him had been ongoing ever since their intervention at the bonfire, usually around once a week or so. They never really had any lengthy conversations during these dreams, and she made sure to never even hint that she was having these dreams about him.
            Chilli wasn’t sure if these dreams of hers were simply of out some kind of electra complex induced by the trauma of losing her mother at a young age, or if she genuinely loved her dad as more than just the father he was, but to now know with certainty that he was experiencing her dreams along with her sent a chill down her spine. Her stomach churned and sunk deep into her gut as she remembered moments from her dreams. All the ways in which they had experienced each other. The tastes, the smells, the sounds of his voice in her ear. It was all actually him, not just a figment of her depraved imagination.
            Her heart began to pound the more her imagination ran wild. The more the reality set in that she had this extraordinary ability. Mort knew. Mort knew about her dreams. He’d done so much with her. And he’d hidden the truth so well.
            As if her body were moving on its own, Chilli quietly stood from her bed and placed her feet on the floor, walking across the room and exiting into the hallway. From there, she went to the end of the short hall and opened the door. Her father’s room.
            It was pitch-dark, save for the very faint moonlight coming in through Mort’s window and illuminating the wall opposite of his bed. Even so, she could barely see much of anything. But she could hear very well with her sensitive dog ears in the silence of the night. The closer she got to her dad’s bedside, the more she could hear him softly snoring as his nose just barely peeked out from under the blanket draped over him.
            Chilli approached her sleeping father, simply standing still for a while as she looked down at him. Her nerves shook the more her eyes adjusted, just barely able to make out his facial features as he slept soundly. She felt a cold shiver through her entire body, even though it was a hot February night. She swallowed the saliva building up in her mouth, goosebumps running up her arms and spine as the fur on the back of her neck began to stand up slightly. She got closer, and closer, and before she even realized it her face was inches away from his. Chilli could feel his hot breath gently brushing against her nose. The natural smell of his breath was identical to that which she experienced in her dreams. She stared at his mouth for more than several moments, just barely open. She licked her own lips, inching closer.
            Closer.
            Closer.
            Chilli’s nose was nearly touching Mort’s now as he slept, her mind racing with so many tempting thoughts. Even if he woke up, she knew he’d be into it. He’d done so much more than this with her in their shared dreams together. So much. She debated taking the plunge. Why shouldn’t she? Her mother apparently approved. She loved her dad. The way he made her feel. It felt wrong. It felt right. It was exciting. She wanted to. Desperately.
            Without even realizing it, Chilli was quietly moaning with each exhale she took as she tried to internally justify what she was about to do. She was salivating, and heavily. Any second now. She would do it. Just a taste. And if he woke up, well…
            But before she could do anything, Mort suddenly grumbled in his sleep, smacking his lips as he turned around to re-adjust himself under the covers.
            And just like that, Chilli let out a sigh as her goosebumps receded - partially in disappointment, but mostly in relief. What on earth was she thinking? Why was she about to do that? She stood up again, quietly backing out of her father’s bedroom and leaving the door open a crack behind her before returning down the hall to her room and back into her own bed.

            Her heart was still pounding, as was her virgin mound. She was glad she didn’t get the chance to do something she might end up regretting, but she still couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Now that she knew the truth, she knew that her dreams with her father would never feel quite the same.
            Once her heart had eventually settled, Chilli yawned and finally fell asleep.
            She opened her eyes again. She was standing in front of an unfamiliar house somewhere in the suburbs of a large city. She opened the door in front of her, walking in to find it was surprisingly spacious on the inside for how modest it seemed from the outside. Suddenly, her head turned to the sound of a laughing little girl. No, two laughing little girls. One was a blue heeler, and one was a slightly smaller red heeler like herself. Or at least, that’s what they appeared to be. They were very blurry to Chilli, so much so that she couldn't discern their faces, and their voices were heavily muffled. The two quickly ran past her as they were being chased by an equally-blurry adult blue heeler, who was holding a colorful xylophone and hitting the little keys on it with the small mallet as if he were trying to cast some kind of magic spell on them with it.
            “Now this definitely has to be one of the weirder dreams I’ve ever had…” Chilli mumbled to herself, to which the three heelers immediately stopped in their tracks and looked straight at her. Feeling a bit creeped out at their silent acknowledgement of her existence, she stepped back a little. Chilli jolted in place as she suddenly felt someone behind her, spinning around to find her sister Brandy, who immediately spoke to her clear as day.
            “What are you doing here?”
\t
            Chilli blinked, and found herself back in the woods just outside of her house. She looked around, noticing the movement of a familiar figure just down the hill. As she began to approach her dad, she remembered the reality of these dreams - that this was really her dad, the one sleeping just down the hall from her. What would she say to him? Should she tell him the truth, or keep it a secret? Would she even be able to bring herself to continue this, knowing that these were no longer just her own personal fantasies?
            “Hey, Chilli-Dog!” Mort turned to face her with a smile as he heard her footsteps through the fallen twigs and leaves.
            At that moment, Chilli knew she could never let him know. Telling him could be disastrous. It could destroy their family dynamic in reality entirely if he learned the truth. She had already nearly lost him once, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to lose him again. She didn’t want to ruin this good thing they had going. It would only be in their dreams. Only a fantasy. Chilli would make sure of it.
            Without a word to her father, Chilli rushed to him and held him in an embrace, leaning up to kiss him. He kissed her back affectionately, wrapping his arms around his daughter as well before slowly running his hand down her soft back and stopping just above her tail. Chilli eagerly slid her tongue into his mouth just like so many times she had done before over the past several years, tasting him in an entirely new way now that she knew it was really him and not just an illusion created by her mind. She rested her hands on her dad’s shoulders, fantasizing about what it would be like if she really had done what she was planning while Mort was sleeping in bed.
            But the more the father and daughter continued their intimate moment together, the more Chilli felt… off. She wanted to do more, to go further, and yet at the same time there was something holding her back. This was not how a father and daughter should be. She couldn’t keep indulging in this make-believe relationship as she was. Last night proved to her that now that she knew the truth about her inherited ability, she likely wouldn’t be able to keep herself contained if she continued this. At least, as often as she had been. At some point, sooner or later, she might slip up and make a mistake that couldn’t be fixed. Maybe once in a great while might be fine. But this wasn’t healthy. And it wasn’t right. She would just have to keep these incestuous feelings for her father suppressed, and she would only revisit his dreams to stop herself if she should ever feel a strong urge to do something rash with him for real-life.
\tHer train of thought was derailed as Mort’s hand found its way to her behind, his fingers inviting themselves into her holes as his palm cupped her rear end. Chilli gently pulled herself away.
            \t“Dad…” She said shyly, looking up at him.
            \t“Yeah, Chilli?” Mort replied, his eyebrow raised. Never once in his dreams could he remember a time when Chilli refused his affections.
            “Would it be okay if we just… go for a walk together?” Chilli continued, hoping this dream wouldn’t turn into a nightmare.
            “...Oh, uh… of course, Chilli-Dog. That’d be just lovely.” Mort gave her a genuine and understanding smile, to which Chilli sighed a breath of relief. Even in his dreams, he really was a good father. She grabbed his hand, and together they walked as father and daughter down the beautiful trail in the serene forest towards a better tomorrow.


            “...And that’s pretty much it.” Chilli said as she wrapped up her story, lying next to her husband Bandit in their bed. “From that point on, I mostly stopped dream-sharing with my dad. Well, except for a few times here and there, but they were pretty rare.”
            \t“Well, that sure was… something.” Bandit replied as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, still finding the image of his wife and her dad together a bit strange. “Well now that our family is, y’know… the way it is, do you think you’ll ever…?”
            “For real-life? Hmm…” Chilli thought for a moment, remembering how she felt that night so many years ago when she almost pushed things too far with her Mort. But then again, as things were, Chilli was happy with her life the way it was. No point in overcomplicating it.
            “...Nah.”", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Dreams of a Mournful Orange - Chapter 3 - Pretty Pictures in My Mind", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "4", "views": "750" }